Reading Time: 129 Minutes

Title: My Body is a Temple (It Doesn’t Belong to Me)
Author: Eff_Dragonkiller
Fandom: 9-1-1
Genre: Angst, Contemporary, Crime Drama, Drama, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Kid!fic
Relationship(s): Gen, Margaret Buckley/Philip Buckley
Content Rating: R
Warnings: Hate Speech, Major Character Death, Violence-Domestic, Violence-Against Children, Issues of Medical Consent, Lack of Body Autonomy, Emotional Child Abuse, Physical Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Non-consensual Medical Procedures, Cancer, Graphic depictions of illness
Alpha: Meduseld
Word Count: 70.708
Summary: The best thing that ever happened to Daniel Buckley was the birth of his brother Evan. The worst thing that ever happened to Evan Buckley was the survival of his brother Daniel. Sixteen years after Daniel’s first transplant, someone notices that the Buckleys might be willing to do anything for Daniel, but it shouldn’t include the death of their younger son.
Artist: Kirlika

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Part One: Sunday, February 15, 2009

It ached where the bumper on the hospital bed dug into his shoulder. Not as much as the ache in his gut or the burn in the back of his throat as he vomited, but bad enough to notice once he leaned back.

“Think you’re done?”

“Yeah,” Daniel offered the nurse a weak smile. “There’s nothing left in me, anyway.”

The nurse frowned and considered the mess in the bedpan. “I’ll talk to Dr. Rorry about an anti-nausea medication. You need to get nutrients back into your body.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure, Daniel. I’ll let your parents know they can come back in.”

He laughed weakly. It wasn’t very funny. Not when taken into consideration how much of his life had been spent vomiting in hospitals. But his dad was one of the worst when it came to sympathy illness. His mom had never really cared except that he was sick, had in fact, yelled at doctors more than once covered in vomit. His dad couldn’t even talk about it without gagging.

“Really, Philip, you shouldn’t have been standing at the door!” Mom rolled her eyes as she approached the bed. “You knew what was happening. It’s not like this is the first time.”

“I didn’t think about it.”

Daniel grimaced, taking in his dad’s greenish complexion. “Did you at least make it to a trash can?”

“I didn’t get sick,” Dad protested. “It was just really close.”

He laughed a little. It hurt, but it felt good too. Besides, his parents already had one gloomy child. Evan was about one walk on a foggy marsh away from taking the main character’s role in Jane Eyre. It was better that Daniel could laugh.

There was enough horror in his situation. They didn’t need more of it.

“How do you feel?” Mom pressed a hand against his forehead and Daniel pressed forward just a moment.

“Exhausted,” he admitted. “But there wasn’t any blood. If there’s a choice, could you tell the nurse something cold would be great?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Dr. Rorry walked in just as Daniel settled down to try to sleep. She grimaced as he moved the bed back to a seated position. “Nora tells me you’ve been having more nausea.”

“Yeah.” Daniel ignored the icy touch as the Doctor did a quick exam. “Maybe like a 7 or 8 if 0 is no nausea and 10 is choking on vomit.”

“Daniel!” Mom huffed. “You couldn’t be a little less graphic?”

“It’s actually a great frame of reference.” She considered his vitals and the treatment chart at the end of the bed. “Well, Nora was right. You definitely need an anti-nausea medication and some additional nutrients.”

“Even with the medication, Daniel can’t really keep much down Dr. Rorry.” His mom frowned. “What will you do?”

“We’ll start with some intravenous nutrients, add it to the solution you’ve already got going. Liquid diet, but the cafeteria has a great chilled smoothie if you can’t handle the bone broth.”

“Definitely not the bone broth.” Margaret Buckley looked as though she’d been told polar bears danced the hula. “Unless the hospital cafeteria can vouch for the organic quality of all their ingredients, Daniel needs nothing else polluting his system. The radiation treatment is bad enough as is.”

“I can understand your concern. Just remember to tell Nora when she comes in for your order.” Dr. Rorry turned back to Daniel. “If you can’t keep down the smoothie with the help of the anti-nausea medication, then we’ll need to have a serious discussion. The only other option would be to a nasogastric tube.”

Daniel shuddered. He’d had more than one of those over the years and it was never an experience he wanted to remember.

“I know it’s a disgusting and overwhelming prospect,” Dr. Rorry said as Daniel’s nurse re-entered with the prescribed medication, “but hopefully it won’t come to that.”

“What about his tests?” Philip Buckley asked with a frown. “Have you gotten the results yet?”

“I have,” Dr. Rorry admitted. “It’s not great. The treatment is working, however, the damage being done to Daniel’s body is worse. At the rate we’re seeing, the treatment will kill him faster than the cancer will.”

Daniel could barely breathe. His chest tightened, and the room darkened. It was only his mother’s hand clutched in his that grounded him at all.

“That’s completely unacceptable,” Margaret grit out. “This is supposed to be the foremost cancer research center in Pennsylvania. You should do something.”

Dr. Rorry raised a brow and stared his mother down like she was a bug on the bottom of her shoe. “I understand your frustration, Mrs. Buckley. But we can only go as hard with treatment as Daniel’s body can stand, and we can only use the medical procedures we know.”

“Money’s not an object,” Philip reminded the Doctor. “If there’s a method or an option that would save Daniel but is only offered in Brazil, we expect to hear about it, Dr. Rorry. Daniel’s survival is all we care about. Everything else is details.”

Dr. Rorry frowned like she’d heard something in that Daniel hadn’t. Which made no sense. Wouldn’t any parent put all their resources toward helping their child? Wouldn’t anyone put everything into helping their loved ones survive? Because it didn’t look like Dr. Rorry agreed.

Monday, April 1st, 1991

Margaret Buckley nee Cartwright had never really wanted children. As a child and teenager herself, they had been noisy, messy, and annoying. Her perspective hadn’t really changed as she’d gotten older. Marriage had required compromise, though, and Philip’s family had made it clear that children would be a requirement.

Margaret had thanked God that Maddie had been a quiet and calm child, and that Philip’s trust fund had been released upon her birth. There had been more than enough money to hire a nanny. Margaret had never even considered that she would change her mind; perhaps if Maddie had remained an only child, it would have stayed that way.

But Daniel had been conceived only a little less than a year after Maddie’s birth and he was everything Margaret hadn’t known she was missing.

When the nurse had placed him in her arms, Margaret had looked down, not into the disgusting misshapen face of a newborn, but into the beautiful blue eyes of her precious Daniel. Her entire world had tilted on its axis. Suddenly, the parenting advice and poetic sagas she’d been forced to listen to practically her whole life clicked like she’d never had any other opinion.

Daniel was perfect.

Watching him laying in the hospital bed, his small body struggling to breathe, was a heartache like no other.

“You’ll be okay, baby.” She kissed his feverish forehead and ran a gentle hand through his blond curls. “You’ll be just fine. In only a week or so, you’ll be back in Mrs. Jefferson’s class talking about how exciting the hospital was.”

Daniel was asleep, of course, and couldn’t hear her. The course of antibiotics and steroids they’d given her angel had practically knocked him out. The doctors had been concerned about how virulent the case of pneumonia her baby had developed was. They’d been alarmed by how his body had failed to rally against the infection without help.

Nerves sat like a stone in her stomach. Alarmed doctors had requested extra tests. Concerned doctors had told them Daniel needed to stay.

His breath stuttered. Wheezed. Stopped.

Margaret Buckley stared at her baby, waiting for the next breath.

The vitals monitor blared.

“Daniel- “

Philip pulled her from the bed as nurses and doctors hurried toward his bed. “He’ll be okay.”

“He’s not breathing.”

“He’ll be okay.”

Maddie, distracted from her coloring book, tugged on Margaret’s jacket. “Mommy.”

“Not now, Maddie.”

“Mommy, I’m scared.”

“I said not now, Maddie!”

“Shhh, Pumpkin,” Philip said, distracted. Most of his attention was on the yelling and almost violent efforts of the medical team surrounding their baby. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Margaret wanted to scream at her husband. She wanted to shout and throw things. Nothing was okay. Her heart was lying on that hospital bed and she felt like she couldn’t breathe until he did again.

Finally, the activity seemed to calm and the vitals monitors stopped screaming as the alarming red numbers climbed out of the danger zone.

“Good. Good.” The pediatric doctor said as he turned to the nurse in charge of Daniel’s care. “Let’s move him to a mask with albuterol and oxygen. If we can’t get his number to rise with the medication and the IV steroid, we’ll see about switching out the combination. He might be better on an inhaled medication.”

“It’s not recommended for children,” the nurse pointed out.

“For long-term use, no,” the doctor agreed. “But we’ve exhausted many of the alternatives. We’ll start with a moderate dose and see how the infection responds.”

“What’s going on?” Margaret said as soon as she got her breath back, pulling away harshly from her husband’s restraint and the irritating whining of her first child. “Daniel- Daniel almost died from pneumonia. No one dies from pneumonia anymore! Not healthy children with access to modern medical care!”

“You’re right. Healthy children under the care of doctors don’t die from pneumonia.” He sighed and directed them towards the small seating area off to the side. Maddie’s crayons and Disney princess coloring pages covering the surface.

Margaret went against her will. “Healthy children. You don’t think Daniel is healthy.”

“We’ve done our best,” Philip frowned. “He gets fresh air and exercise for an hour every day. The family chef puts just as much attention to his meals and Maddie’s as ours. They’re not eating arugula and artichoke hearts, but our pediatrician never complained.”

“They wouldn’t have caught this until, well,”—the doctor gestured to the pale form on the hospital bed—“something like this happened. Infections are the red flag for this type of condition.”

“What type of condition?” The words shaped themselves slowly in Margaret’s mouth and the room spun lightly, darkening briefly as the doctor hesitated.

“There’s no easy way to tell you this. The tests came back positive. Your son has leukemia.”

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Margaret blinked the terrible memory away as Dr. Rorry, Daniel’s current oncologist, took a seat at the small table in the family lounge. Margaret had to admit, in her experience, nothing pleasant ever came out of a meeting in one of these private rooms. “What’s wrong?”

“Many things,” the doctor said bluntly. “First among them is that Daniel’s cancer isn’t responding as well to the aggressive treatment plan as it has in the past.”

“Is it time for another transplant?” Philip asked. “Even just a plasma donation could change the status quo in Daniel’s favor, correct?”

Dr. Rorry shook her head. “The leukemia is just too prevalent to make that a viable option. A bone marrow graft has the potential to work, but I’m concerned that Daniel’s body doesn’t have the resources to accept such a donation. I honestly believe that if he ended up on the operating table right now, Daniel would be at far greater risk of dying from an infection than the cancer. His body simply doesn’t have any resources left to fight anything.”

“So what do we do?” Margaret Buckley stared down the oncologist. “You certainly didn’t bring us in here just to ask us to let Daniel die. Daniel is not going to die.”

“I appreciate your stance, Mrs. Buckley.” Dr. Rorry replied—placated, really, because no one could appreciate what Margaret would do for her baby boy—“but we don’t have many other options. Continue the aggressive treatment plan and Daniel’s body will give up. Turn down the treatment and the cancer will metastasize. What else is there?”

“I’m not planning my son’s funeral, Dr. Rorry!”

Philip placed a gentle hand on her arm and Margaret resisted the urge to tear away from the table. Her heart was too full of feeling. If she shook Philip off, she might rattle apart. “You didn’t call us in here just to tell us the treatment wouldn’t work. Other doctors have tried to get us to give up. They never come alone. So you tell us. What other options are there?”

Dr. Rorry sighed and flipped open the folder she’d brought with her. “There’s a private clinic in LA working with researchers from the University of California on an experimental new cancer treatment. It’s extremely new and just at the beginning of human trials.”

“What’s so different?” The doctor had all of Margaret’s attention.

“They’re genetically engineering viruses to attack cancer cells.”

The room was quiet and Margaret reached toward the folder for the research as her husband gaped unattractively at the doctor. “Why haven’t we heard of this before?”

“It’s new,” the doctor repeated, sitting back in her seat. “And honestly, Daniel isn’t a good candidate. His resources are diminished, his organs are under heavy strain, and as we saw today, he struggles to keep most food down. Introducing a virus, even one that’s supposed to help, is a tremendous risk at this point. Not to mention that it’s not the type of treatment that can be done at a local hospital and just monitored by telephone.”

“How does it work?” Margaret had gotten good at skimming medical-speak for the words she knew and understood, but she’d never be a doctor and as much as she hated it, there was nothing easy to understand in the research Dr. Rorry had gotten them.

“The initial virus is chosen from a select number of inert options. The virus is then manipulated on a genetic level to target the cancerous cells in the body. That’s often accomplished through repeated blood draws and flagging the unique genetic marker of what makes one of Daniel’s cells cancerous. Then, like normal, the virus is released into the body to seek out those cells, attacking them and destroying them.

“This is not without risk,” Dr. Rorry emphasized again. “As with all cancer treatment options, the chance for killing healthy cells exists. Additionally, there is a non-zero chance that the virus could mutate and start attacking Daniel’s healthy cells. Viruses carry some of the worst diseases known to man, and that’s not even taking into consideration Daniel’s compromised immune system. If he gets sick, it’s over.”

“That’s not so different from now,” Philip pointed out sensibly. “The radiation and chemotherapy treatment are killing him just as surely as the cancer. You told us that.”

“This would at least be something different,” Margaret said. “It’s an option that gives his body a break from the radiation and the chemotherapy.”

Margaret and her husband share a glance, certain that this was their way forward. This was the option that would save her baby boy. “We’d like to explore this option.”

“I can’t guarantee Daniel’s acceptance in the project,” Dr. Rorry pointed out. “Daniel isn’t a good candidate for the program. I can reach out to the Director of the project and tell her to expect you. I can send you with a referral and Daniel’s medical file, but it’s entirely possible that you might get there and find out they’re not accepting any new patients.”

“They won’t turn us away,” Margaret said as she stood to say goodbye to Dr. Rorry for the last time. “Everyone has a price.”

***

The paper trembled in Evan’s hands. He was failing the tenth grade. Six classes marked out a row of Ds and Fs. The notes to the side included ‘failed to turn in assignments’, ‘missed too many classes’, and ‘failed to request additional tutoring’. A second page was attached to the report card. It was addressed to his parents, like they would even care.

‘Mr. & Mrs. Buckley,

‘This note is being sent home after repeated attempts have failed to contact you. Your son, Evan, is a wonderful student. He has such a passion for learning and several of his teachers have remarked on his unique perspective. We can tell that Evan gives his best effort whenever he is in class and for the assignments that he turns in. However, I regret to inform you that due to the number of absences on his record and the missing assignments for participation, that Evan is failing all of his tenth-grade classes.

‘His teachers report that they have tried to encourage Evan to inform them of absences beforehand so that they can get him the assignments ahead of time. His teachers also report that he has failed to make use of arranged tutoring sessions and after hours help sessions. Which leaves Evan with only two options. He may either, with parental permission, take a series of intensive summer school classes to make up the time and work. Or we will be required to make him repeat the tenth grade.

‘Evan is a good student, Mr. & Mrs. Buckley. Your son is clearly deeply invested in education for the sake of simply being educated. That your family situation has left him in these desperate circumstances is unfortunate. But we can work together to straighten this out.

‘Sincerely,

Principle Markus Amhurst.’

Letting the paper flutter to the floor, he flopped back on his bed and resisted the urge to cry.

The fragile hope Evan had tried desperately to nurture frayed apart like a rotten rope under too much stress. It didn’t snap so much as just give way. Evan had nothing left.

It was a vicious cycle. He was absent because of Daniel’s visits to the hospital, which meant he missed classes and assignments, which meant he needed tutoring, but with all the time in the hospital, he didn’t have time for tutoring. It meant he was failing his classes and his parents couldn’t be bothered to care.

His parents had never cared.

Evan didn’t know why he was so upset. It had been foolish to hope that graduation would change anything. His parents would never let him leave. He pressed a hand to his abdomen, resting it against the ache that never quite went away there. Daniel’s cancer was going to kill him long before it would kill his brother.

Evan let the tears roll from his eyes as he focused on his breathing.

The door banged against the wall as his mother stormed in. “What have I told you about leaving the door open?”

Evan startled from the bed but didn’t bother to say anything. He wasn’t winning against his mother. She frowned at the sight of his wet cheeks and the letter on the floor.

“What is that?” His mother gestured briskly for the letter, and Evan handed it over reluctantly.

“You’re failing?” She scoffed after reading over the report. “That’s why you’re hiding in this room, crying like an infant? It’s not like this is a surprise, Evan.”

He resisted the urge to hunch. His mother hated it when he hunched. She thought it was slovenly.

Philip stopped in the doorway on his way past with a suitcase. “Something wrong?”

“Evan is failing his classes.” Margaret handed off the letter. “Like he’s not already taking up too much of our time. We should already be at the airport.”

“We’re chartering a private jet, Margaret. It leaves whenever we get there.” His father frowned at the letter. “They’re claiming the absences are the reason Evan is failing.”

“It’s just an excuse, Philip.” She pulled out Evan’s suitcase and pointing at it emphatically. “Pack. We’re not coming back until Daniel is well.”

“Obviously it’s an excuse. But it’s not one we can argue with,” Philip muttered as he headed for the door. “We’re not going to leave Evan in school if Daniel needs him. We should just have him home schooled in California. That should take care of several problems, at least.”

“Something to think about, certainly.”

“Ten minutes, Evan.” His mother scowled at him as she left the room. “Or I’ll come up here and drag you down by the hair.”

Evan took a deep breath as the parental hurricane left, disaster settling into the ruins of what was left. He wiped his palms on his pants and reached for the tissue box. He didn’t have much time. Margaret’s threat was not idle. His breath hitched.

His toiletry kit was in the en suite and it gave Evan a moment to press his palms hard to his eyes as the moisture refused to settle back down. This wasn’t a surprise. It wasn’t a shock.

Evan would never escape this hell. He’d never be able to run far enough, or fast enough, that they wouldn’t be able to catch him. His worth was calculated by the volume of blood he could spare and the number of organs they could steal.

The day wasn’t far off when it would be better to lie down on the gurney and carve out his heart himself. Daniel’s cancer was killing him an inch or an once at a time. At least, if Evan did it himself the death would be faster.

Evan took a deep breath and then another. He dragged the sleeve of his t-shirt up to wipe at the tears and snot leaking down his face. He counted the number of outfits in his suitcase. It would have to do.

The backpack next to his desk was full of textbooks. He left them on the desk. The laptop cord was tucked in one pocket, wallet in another, phone in the third. The stuffed animal Maddie had given him years ago was tucked carefully in the big pocket, his copy of Call of the Wild laid on top.

There wasn’t much else Evan wanted to bring, even if they were permanently re-locating. Evan hadn’t ever had much to begin with. He’d never precisely wanted for things. The house staff had always stayed on top of that, but Maddie had gotten a pile of presents for her sixteenth birthday, Daniel had gotten a rare vacation out of the house, and Evan had been handed a credit card with a budget.

All he’d wanted with his parents’ love. No matter how unlikely that was to happen.

“Evan!” His mother shouted from the bottom of the stairs. “You’re holding everything up. Let’s go!”

Monday, May 27, 1991

“It’s simple,” Margaret Buckley said, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. “Daniel needs a matching HLA donor. If we wait for a match through donor association, he could die with an imperfect match.”

Philip sighed heavily as he let the research drop from his hands. “Creating a child, though, that’s a big deal, Margaret. That’s eighteen years of tears, blood, and dependencies. That’s forever at our dining table at holidays and being asked what they’re up to by our associates for the rest of our lives. You wouldn’t have even wanted one child if it hadn’t been a stipulation on the trust and Daniel requires a lot of attention and energy. He could still make a recovery with conventional treatment.”

“But it’s not likely,” Margaret pressed. “I love Daniel, and I never expected to love any of our children. If we do this, then Daniel doesn’t just have a good chance of surviving. He has the best chance of surviving.”

“That’s a lot of pressure to put on a child.” Philip pressed his lips tightly together. “An infant, really, the first time they… drive a needle larger than some of their bones into bone.”

“Philip, we’ll be careful. We’ll hire a nanny, like we did for Maddie,” Margaret begged. “But I really believe that this is the best choice for our son.”

“Alright. If you feel that strongly about it,” Philip said. “I’ll have some research done. Set up a meeting with the best. If this is the route we decide on, then I don’t want anyone other than the best working on it.”

Margaret came around the desk and pressed a kiss to her husband’s cheek. “Thank you, Philip.”

“I love you, and Daniel,” Philip said quietly. “I want the best for you.”

“Of course you do, sweetheart.”

Margaret didn’t regret her insistence, not even several months later as she wiped the clammy sweat from her face and neck and slowly regained her bearings. Almost a decade ago, she had been certain that the next time she got pregnant would result in an immediate appointment with a discrete doctor with no one to know the difference. Not even Philip.

It was tempting to curse the fetus in her womb for the illness, weight gain, and cravings. But Margaret was brutal with herself. She had decided that this was the path they would take to treating Daniel and she would suffer any burden for her son.

There had been a choice early in the process, when Margaret could have chosen a surrogate to carry the child. Perhaps she regretted it, but only because the burn of bile at the back of her throat made her choke on the thought that her son knew the feeling so well.

The truth was that Margaret knew no matter the amount on the check Philip wrote, no one was going to be as careful with the child as Margaret would be. Having carried and delivered two other children meant there was no reason she couldn’t do this part herself. And she wanted to.

Margaret wanted to press a hand to the tight skin of her abdomen and be reminded that she carried the hope of her son’s survival. It had been infuriating as a parent, to sit at the bedside of her son and be useless to helping him feel better. Instead, it was medication and doctors and a million runs to the hospital to sit uselessly in disposable plastic hazard gear while the best and the brightest money could buy injected her son with poison.

It was infuriating.

And that fury was what kept her from irrationally reaching for a knife to dig this parasite out of her flesh and blood before it could survive on its own. That and the likely expression of horror on her husband’s face when he found her covered in blood. Honestly, sometimes the man’s heart was just too soft not to stomp all over. But she loved him, so she tried to consider his delicate sensibilities. Which meant that though they had the money and the resources to do it again if she killed the child, she wasn’t cutting herself open. Partly because of Philip’s heart, but mostly because they didn’t have the time. Daniel didn’t have the time.

If he was going to survive this struggle to grow up and teach physics, run a business, or dominate a courtroom, then this disgusting leech was going to have to stay inside of her until it could survive on its own.

Unashamedly, Margaret had already started counting down until the day she was induced. Six months and three days to go.

And induced she was. Finally, the child was here. No longer leeching off of her like a parasite. Margaret shuddered at the very thought that she might have needed to create another one. Thankfully, science had come through where faith had failed and this infant had exactly the needed genetics that would save Daniel.

“Margaret, are you well?” Philip asked from the doorway. “Is the nanny needed?”

“No, the child sleeps.” Margaret sighed. “I was simply thinking about how horrible it is to wait. I’ve carried this child for nine months and now we must wait twelve more before he can do what he was created for. What if- what if Daniel doesn’t make it?”

“You can’t think that way, my love.” Philip said, encircling her in his arms. “Daniel is full of life and determination. His illness hasn’t taken that yet. We must live in hope.”

“But what if it doesn’t work? What if the child we made to save Daniel fails?”

“We can’t think that way.” Philip shook her gently. “Daniel is relying on us to be strong. We have to believe that he will make it.” He kissed her temple, and she breathed deeply her husband’s fortitude. “Come back to bed, Margaret. Daniel will need us in the morning.”

“Just a moment more.”

“Just a moment.”

Margaret waited until Philip had turned the corner back toward the Master suite before she leaned forward to watch the sleeping infant. “You have one job, Evan Buckley. If you fail to save Daniel, I’ll make you regret being born.”

Monday, February 16, 2009

The grounds of the Los Angeles Clinic for Experimental Cancer Research were beautiful, at least. The grounds were maintained in neat manicured gardens with clear level pathways that Daniel imagined were perfect for pushing a wheelchair on. A break from the monotony of institutional white concrete hallways, patient rooms, and offices. He couldn’t honestly remember the last place that had been so green. Perhaps the house they’d lived in when they stayed in Hershey. Daniel couldn’t remember it very well, though. He’d spent so much of his life sick.

“And the house is ready?”

“It’s smaller than I would like,” Dad admitted. “But it’s not located too far away, even with traffic to consider. Only two floors and six bedrooms, but there’s plenty of room to create a suite for Daniel downstairs and a side entrance for staff.”

“What’s the view like?” Because the view that Daniel could see as they pulled up to patient parking at the facility was gorgeous.

The building itself was a single level built in the southwestern style. A facade covered in beige stucco with elaborate painted borders and large pillars framing the front entrance. It was nothing like he’d ever seen in a medical facility.

“It’s a pleasant enough view of the ocean,” Philip Buckley shared. “The neighbors are very close, though. I’m not sure I’ll like that.”

“Hopefully, we won’t be here very long.” Margaret leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to Daniel’s face as the paramedic helped him out of the medical transport and into a wheelchair. “Then we can go anywhere we want to. Do anything our hearts’ desire!”

“Like eating too much pizza?” Daniel laughed as they entered the building.

“Exactly like that.” Margaret smiled warmly at the receptionist as she gave their name and business.

“Great.” The woman lead them around the corner. “If you’ll follow me, Dr. Bachman and Dr. Daine are expecting you.”

The office Dr. Bachman and Dr. Daine met them in was just as beautiful as the rest of the facility. Neutral colors offset by brilliant blues and yellows, a large window that faced the garden and the sea. Daniel could tell that this was a place of healing; he could practically feel the potential in his bones.

“Mr. and Mrs. Buckley,” a woman entered, shedding her lab coat and quickly fixing the decoration in her hair. “I’m Dr. Eir Daine. I’m in charge of the research portion of the project and Dr. Bachman is in charge of patient care. Now, I know you must be Margaret and Philip, and of course, Daniel. But what’s your name?”

And Evan, who had curled up on the floor out of sight and out of mind when there hadn’t been enough chairs, just blinked up at her like an idiot.

Daniel huffed. “It’s just Evan.”

“Your brother?”

“Yeah, my HLA match.”

“How fortunate.” An older gentleman with round glasses and a very precise beard said as he entered and closed the room. “You’re very blessed to have someone within your family that could match what you needed.”

“Blessings had nothing to do with it,” Margaret said sharply. “Science created Evan. We’ve never shirked from what was necessary to save Daniel, no matter how unpleasant.”

“Including the creation of a savior sibling?” Dr. Daine clarified, like they’d mentioned something unpleasant.

“Of course,” Philip said. “What type of parent wouldn’t do everything to save their child?”

“Moving across the country was a small thing in comparison,” Margaret promised.

“I can see how, in comparison, it was a simple decision indeed.” Dr. Bachman said, but he clasped his hands on the table and frowned at Daniel and his parents. “But I’m afraid that your time and money have been wasted. Daniel simply isn’t a good prospect for this treatment plan.”

“What.” Daniel’s heart was in his throat and he shot a glance at his parents. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. “What- what do you mean? You treat cancer, I have cancer.”

“We treat patients with a very narrow diagnosis of cancer. Most agree to take part in the research knowing fully well that they can leave for conventional treatment at any time. We do have two patients with leukemia in the project, but it’s a mild form for this type of cancer and they’ve seen a moderate amount of success.” Dr. Daine explained. “It’s simply not ethical to offer an experimental treatment to someone who won’t survive it. And Daniel, I’m deeply sorry to say, but by all assessments of your previous doctor and Dr. Bachman, we’re certain that you wouldn’t survive the treatment.”

“Surely a donation to the project will help you reconsider?” Philip’s hands fluttered uselessly in the space between the father and the doctor. “We understand that Daniel’s situation is precarious. We just want the best for our little boy.”

“I wouldn’t be comfortable accepting such a donation and I would make sure the Board of Directors knew it,” Dr. Bachman said firmly. “Even the rumors of an unethical donation to the clinic could call into question the validity of our research, it could stall our project, and detrimentally affect the medical care of all the patients participating in the trial.”

“I’m not sure that you understand your son’s situation.” Dr. Daine leaned forward, her expression earnest even as she delivered the most horrifying news Daniel had received since the first time his leukemia had come back.

“Because of the nausea, stomach distress, and diarrhea; Daniel is suffering a prolonged case of malnutrition. It’s affected all of his organs and bones, and it’s honestly the least of his problems.”

“He only has one functioning kidney,” Dr. Bachman continued. “A donation from his brother. It’s already failing due to the amount of poison it’s attempting to filter from his body. That poison, the stress of his health, and the lack of nutrients have crippled his heart. His pulse and blood pressure are likely only within the normal range by the grace of medication.”

“And if you disregard the damage done to the rest of Daniel’s body, including his brain, then we cannot disregard the current state of his lungs.”

“Dr. Rorry said that nothing could be done about my lungs until the rest of the cancer was managed.” Daniel said faintly, spots showing up across his vision and his heart felt like it might beat out of his chest. Clearly, whatever medication they thought was working on that had stopped.

“She’s correct,” Dr. Bachman laid out a series of images from his last chest x-ray. “The hazy white spots speckled through your lungs are cancer. Leukemia that metastasized into your lungs. Your medical record shows that this isn’t the first time this has happened, either. A previous surgeon was able to cut away at the cancerous spots and leave you in a better place. But you can see why that wouldn’t be an option now, correct?”

The spots were small and all throughout the organs. Even with his chest opened up, a surgeon might not even be able to see the spots they’d have to cut away at. And there were so many.

“What- what are the dark spots?” Philip point with a trembling hand.

“Clusters of dead cells,” Dr. Daine answered. “They’ve likely been killed by the toxins in Daniel’s body from treatment. I’m not surprised to see them. I’m more surprised that we don’t see many in your heart. It’s weak and clearly struggling, but it’s nowhere near as bad as your lungs.”

“If we can get your cancer to respond to conventional treatments, you would need new lungs before we could begin the treatment trial. Our most successful viral treatment is based on a strain of the common cold. Daniel, if you’re infected with something now, you’d never survive it.”

“Evan will donate a lung,” Margaret said into the horrified silence. “Evan will donate a lung, Daniel will recover, and you’ll begin treatment. If we wait until the cancer is under control, the cancer will win.”

The catch in Daniel’s chest released with his mother’s words. Sweet, clean air had flooded him and Daniel thought he could finally relax again. He’d forgotten for a moment that his parents would never let him face something like this on his own. They would never, ever abandon him. They’d given everything to his continued survival, but sometimes, when doctors and nurses asked him questions and wanted his input in his treatment plan, Daniel forgot he wasn’t alone.

“Does Evan want to give up one of his lungs?” Dr. Bachman frowned. “Limiting himself to a single lung at such a young age will greatly inhibit his quality of life. He’d be more susceptible to respiratory infections; he’d be prohibited from several occupations. I really can’t recommend such an action. Daniel has a great deal of health problems and the lungs, while concerning are honestly the least of it.”

“Evan doesn’t get a choice.” Margaret Buckley cut across the conversation.

“Evan, what do you think?” Dr. Daine asked.

And when the silence wasn’t broken, they turned to look at the corner of the office where his brother had settled on the floor showed a disturbing image. Evan had his head pressed to his knees as he trembled. He wasn’t making a noise and, as far as Daniel could tell, he wasn’t crying. Just rattling out of his skin.

How embarrassing. Daniel was trying to convince the doctors to provide him with the experimental treatment and Evan was sitting on their floor having some sort of fit. Typical. Evan was always getting in the way of Daniel’s treatment.

Dr. Daine frowned. “Regardless of any decisions, Daniel should be made comfortable. Perhaps after he’s seen to a suite, we can continue the discussion.”

***

Bless all the gods of health and healing for Bridger Charles, because the nurse had taken over getting the Buckley family situated in Ward 4 without a single sign of the disgust he had to be feeling. The Los Angeles Clinic for Experimental Cancer Research was one of the foremost cancer treatment centers in the country, so they were familiar was all sorts of powerful, egotistical, and arrogant people. But this was something else.

Frank gently closed the door and let out a heavy breath. “This will not go well.”

“No. I agree.” Eir let her head thump to the table. “I understand grief and shock and the fear of dying. Intellectually, I can even understand why a savior sibling would be appealing. The donor organizations are by volunteer and there’s never a guarantee that even the best possible match will be a good match.”

“With caring parents and perhaps a devoted medical team—“

“And someone outside the situation to advocate for the donor’s rights.”

“—I can see it being the best of terrible circumstances.” He shook his head. “But you were in that meeting same as me. That child was practically having a panic attack at the prospect of donating one of his organs and none of his family cared!”

“He’s the donor on record for Daniel’s kidney,” Eir said after a heavy pause. “He would have been very young to make such a decision.”

“Let’s be honest, Eir.” Frank collapsed into the chair across from her. “Evan didn’t have a choice, and if we don’t do anything, he won’t have a choice here either.”

“It’s child abuse,” she sighed.

“Of course it is. The way that boy panicked? The clear dismissal of his desires or concerns?” Frank ticked off the signs of abuse. “I’m deeply concerned about the relationships within that family. It’s not healthy.”

“I know.” Eir agreed. “But without the evidence of physical abuse, it will be hard to argue.” She thought for a moment. “The best chance we have is to get Evan to talk about it. Get him to admit to something that the Department of Children and Family Services can use to remove him from his parent’s custody.”

“Do you want me to try?”

“Yes. I’ll call DCFS and see if they can send someone over to at least review what we know.”

Opening the door, already thinking about how to bridge the concept with the younger Buckley son, Frank’s attention was caught on Bridger’s obvious worry. The man was a consummate professional, so his obvious emotional state was concerning.

Frank stopped at the nurses’ station instead of going right to the Buckley’s suite.

“What’s wrong?”

“Besides everything?” Bridger shook his head, “Mrs. Buckley was talking about a lung transplant, but I’ve seen the records. That’s not a smart move.”

“No. We agree,” Frank sighed. “Unfortunately, this looks like it’s going to be just the beginning of a long, drawn out fight over medical possibilities verses probabilities.”

Bridger took a deep breath. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Please do. And when she inevitably ends up threatening to get you fired, remember that if you left, half of the medical staff would leave as well.” Frank offered a genuine smile. “The Board would flail at that sort of manpower loss.”

“That is an excellent point.” The nurse made a face. “FYI—the mother has some sort of problem with nicknames. They were dismayed when I informed them that Bridger was, in fact, the name on my birth certificate. They’re refusing to call me anything but Nurse Charles.”

Frank made a face right back. “How arrogant.”

“Right? Like they have a right to dictate how people want to be addressed?”

The doctor offered his day nurse a wicked smile. “Eli comes back from vacation tomorrow. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind some help?”

Bridger, rightfully, burst into laughter. Eli’s given name was almost five syllables, and her last name was almost as bad. “Oh, that’s good, Doc. That’s very good. I wouldn’t mind the help at all.”

“Excellent. Now, two questions for you.”

“Shoot,” Bridger nodded, leaning over the desktop.

“Did the Buckleys give you their younger son’s medical record, as well as the elder?”

“No,” Bridger frowned. “That’s weird, right? Parents that run around with one set of records should definitely have the set for donor child as well, right?”

“That would make sense, but much about this situation is unusual.” Frank drilled his fingers against the counter. “See if you can get the parents to sign a medical record release form. For both their children. And try to get in contact with the previous oncologist as soon as possible.”

“Sure thing.” Bridger was already reaching for the paperwork. “I’ll tell them we have questions about Daniel’s previous care and donations that require a conversation.”

“Good. Now, can you tell me if Evan is still in the suite?”

“No, sorry, Doctor.”

Frank couldn’t complain, even if he’d have preferred not dealing with the Buckleys so soon. Each suite had two rooms, the hospital room with a wall of glass that faced the nurses’ station and could open easily during an emergency and the receiving room off to the side. Originally meant for family, in LA, it was often used for conducting business. A quick look as he passed showed that the receiving room was empty. Just the four suitcases the Buckley family had brought with them.

Frank found Daniel and his parents in the hospital room and cursed internally when he didn’t retreat fast enough.

“Dr. Bachman,” Margaret Buckley called out. “When can we expect to begin planning the surgery?”

“Not before the end of the week, Mrs. Buckley.” Frank frowned, barely resisting the urge to scowl. Thirty-five years of experience in oncology and the Buckleys were already at the top of his list for most unpleasant patients. “We need to do a thorough review of Daniel’s records to create a new treatment plan, there are some holes that we’ll be asking for elaboration from the Titus-Pittsburgh Oncology Clinic, so be prepared for Bridger to provide you with the appropriate forms.”

“Is that really necessary?” Philip frowned. “I’ve reviewed the medical records and there’s nothing major missing.”

“Ah, but while you are an incredibly successful businessman, Mr. Buckley, you are not a doctor. There are things I have concerns about and we really can’t start progressive treatment plans without the answers.”

“Fine. We’ll get the forms back to Nurse Charles as soon as possible.”

“Excellent,” Franks nodded. “I’m sure you’ve found it already, but the call button is attached to the bed by a cord and Bridger will be back in momentarily to make sure you’re settled well.”

Now, Frank left the suite with a frown. It was time to find the other Buckley.

***

Constance Jaeger slouched in the visitor’s chair across from Will Abram’s desk deep within the bowels of the Department of Children and Family Services for the City of Los Angeles, peeling an orange with nails long enough to be registered as weapons. “You know why I enjoy visiting you, Will?”

“What do you mean, Your Honor?” Will smirked as he shuffled folders off his desk and considered his digital calendar. “You don’t enjoy slumming it in the dungeon with the overworked, underpaid, and underappreciated?”

“We’re employed by the city, Will,” The judge said dryly. “It was practically in large print on the application.”

“Fine. I’ll bite.” Will turned his attention to the judge for the first time since she had commandeered his visitor’s chair. “Why do you come to me instead of the other way around?”

“There’s an asshole in the office across from mine in City Hall,” Judge Jaeger admitted blandly. “He’s been there thirty years and celebrated my fifty-fifth birthday last week. And he has the same damn conversation with his mother every Friday afternoon like clockwork.” She shuddered. “It gets on my last nerve.”

“Happy belated birthday,” Will said as he frowned. “Isn’t Judge Connington in the office across the hall from you?”

“Yes.”

“You married him.”

The judge waved it away. “I married Connington, not his mother. I can’t stand that woman.”

“I’ve never met her.” Will shook his head, uncertain if he should be pleased or dismayed that he’d never been party to what was likely a truly explosive combination. It was an interesting relationship. The working class had elected Jaeger for her stern stance on domestic violence and history of advocating for foster children. Connington was old money, his mother regularly lunched in Hollywood with the rich and famous. But no one could complain that either judge didn’t work hard and serve well.

“Be thankful.” The judge sighed, “Okay, Will. Tell me about Casey James.”

“The welfare report came from the hospital. Casey ended up in the ER four times in two weeks with allergic reactions.” He brought up his case notes to make sure he had the details right. “Her parents alternated attending each visit. Fortunately for Casey, the attending nurse was the same.”

“Weird in of itself, right?” Jaeger said with a frown. “If they were the usual allergy incidences, they should have happened randomly. Same nurse implies same time.”

Will checked, but he was pretty sure- “Yeah. All admission times happened within the 3 o’clock hour.”

“Casey James doesn’t attend school?”

“The parents filed for and have received permission to do at home schooling.” Will shrugged at the judge’s skeptical look. He understood. Both the Jameses worked day shifts. “All the paperwork is on file.”

“Finish with the report. What did the nurse say?”

“Just that the timing and frequency of the allergy attacks were suspicious. Though, he noted that what had caught his attention to begin with was that when giving the story to the attending doctor, both parents talked about using the EpiPen on their daughter the wrong way.”

Will sat back and let the judge finish her fruit as she thought.

“I don’t like it,” she said finally. “Whether the parents are simply neglectful assholes or are actually looking to murder their daughter — Casey does not deserve to have to endure these stressful medical crises at the age of nine. Forward me the file and I’ll make sure the police check up on it.”

His office phone rang as Will wrote himself a post-it note to stick to the edge of his screen—with the 4 million other brightly colored reminders he’d left himself in the last week. “Will Abram, Department of Children and Family Services.”

“Will, this is Dr. Eir Daine at the Los Angeles Clinic for Experimental Cancer Research. We met several months ago when you were researching options for Mitchel Gaines’s treatment.”

“Yes, I remember, Doctor.” He sighed. Michael Gaines was one of the many children that passed through his care that hadn’t made it. The challenge of being a social worker for children with special needs. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, we have a situation brewing at the clinic that we think could use your help.”

“Dr. Daine, I apologize for being blunt, but are you calling to place a welfare report?” Will blinked rapidly. Still trying to process the new information. Jaeger’s attention caught at that and gestured at the phone. “Ah, one moment, Doctor.”

He cued the speaker phone and rolled toward the door to shut it fully. Confidentiality was much more important than their comfort in a musty room. “Alright, Dr. Daine, if you could explain. Judge Jaeger is also listening in.”

“I’m uncertain where to begin,” Dr. Daine admitted. “Dr. Bachman and I are deeply concerned for the physical and emotional safety of a young man by the name of Evan Buckley, sixteen years old, born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.”

“Is he being refused treatment by his parents?” Will frowned. Things weren’t quite adding up.

“No, I apologize. I haven’t clearly described the situation. Evan isn’t sick, his brother Daniel is.”

That honestly made far more sense. Families could get very hung up on the concerns of ill children and sometimes forget that their well children needed just as much attention.

“You mentioned that you feared for his physical safety,” Judge Jaeger interrupted. “How?”

“Evan is his brother’s donor and clearly does not want to be. We don’t have any evidence, but given the situation, Dr. Bachman and I believe that several years ago, the Buckley parents forced Evan to donate his kidney. Additionally, the family’s reaction to finding out that Daniel would need a minimum of a new lung was to assume Evan would donate one. No question. No discussion. Just a surreal expectation that ‘Evan didn’t have a choice’.” The disgust and concern in Dr. Daine’s voice was overwhelming. “All the while Evan shook apart in what had to be the quietest panic attack I’ve seen.”

Jaeger tapped her fingers in the click-click-click pattern of lacquered nails hitting lacquered wood. “You think that there’s a significant threat to Evan’s body autonomy if he stays in his parent’s custody?”

Dr. Daine hesitated. “I think there’s a very strong chance that if the clinic refused to participate in this medical rape, and we would—it’s both illegal and unethical—then the Buckleys would take both their children and disappear; perhaps only to reappear once Daniel has successfully healed from a lung transplant.”

Jaeger arched a brow. “What do you think, Will?”

“It’s worth an investigation.” He tipped back in his chair to consider what he knows. “I’m not an optimistic person, you know that Judge. It’s not in my nature to give people the opportunity to hurt my charges. I think this situation is worth investigating. It’s worth a conversation with the Buckleys and I think it’s worth protecting Evan even if this turns out to not be as big and awful as it looks right not.”

“It’s usually worse.”

“Granted.” Will agreed, “but this is a bit of an unconventional use of the medical consent law. That is the basis for your disagreement with the Buckley parents, correct, Dr. Daine? The law that gives minors the right to request medical treatment without their parents’ permission.”

“I would advise against it, anyway. The fact of the matter is that Daniel Buckley is too sick for a lung transplant to do much good. It would just kill a healthy lung. But yes, the medical consent law was my first thought. If a minor doesn’t need permission for medical treatment, then it should be required for their parents to obtain consent from them.”

Jaeger was nodding. “It’ll set a precedent, but I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing.”

“Alright,” Will sighed. “Sounds like I’m headed your way, Dr. Daine. I’ll see you in about an hour.”

“We’ll be here.”

Jaeger stood as the call disconnected and considered Will with that eerie, penetrating stare. The one that had brought Will to her attention to begin with. He’d never been afraid of her.

“You should reach out to Athena and Michael Grant. If the situation is as dire as Dr. Daine suggested, Evan might find comfort in a foster mother with a badge and a gun willing to get between him and anything out to hurt him.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

***

Frank found the younger Buckley son on a bench in the garden facing the ocean. Not far at all from the facility, but far enough to be out of sight of his brother’s windows. He took a seat on the bench next to the boy and wondered exactly how he was supposed to get this child to talk about the abuse he had suffered.

“It’s a pleasant day.” Evan said nothing and Frank grimaced. “The weather, that is.”

The teen shot him a skeptical look. “It’s LA. Do you even get weather that isn’t pleasant?”

Frank laughed, relieved at the attitude lurking just under Evan’s calm facade. Perhaps, regardless of the damage the Buckleys had done, Evan was not so far beyond recovery. “We get bad weather. When it rains, it pours and neither the people nor the environment take it well. And, well, wildfires are a weather phenomenon all their own in California.”

“Right.” Evan sighed, and the sass disappeared and nearly took Frank’s hope with it. “I guess I just thought it was a good day to see the ocean. I’ve never been.”

“There’s a beach near here. Walking distance really, if you wanted to take a swim.”

“I don’t know how.” Evan said quietly, face turned up to the sun, eyes closed.

“Your parents never taught you?”

“You mean take time out of their day willingly when they could be with Daniel?”

When he put it like that, Frank admitted, it sounded silly. He wanted to promise that Evan would learn, but he didn’t know what might happen once the boy was in the foster system. Frank wanted to believe that once Evan was away from his parents that things would get better, but there was no guarantee. Sometimes the foster care system failed children. Frank thought Evan could survive even that, but the doctor wanted better for this child who had already suffered so much.

“I’d like to talk to you about something a little more upsetting than a day at the ocean.”

“This is about the lung transplant?” Evan asked, voice breaking and nearly soundless on the question.

Frank grimaced, “Yes.”

“Okay.”

“I want you to be honest with me, Evan. I can’t give you the best options if you aren’t honest with me.” Evan nodded reluctantly and Frank figured that would be the best he could get for now. “Your mother said that you would donate your lung to your brother, but do you want to?”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, you do.” Frank turned completely to face Evan, giving up the view of the ocean stretching beautifully into the horizon without a care. “Evan, donating a living organ is an extremely personal decision with medical consequences that will follow you for the rest of your life. It’s not a decision that should be made lightly, or by anyone other than you.”

“Daniel needs a lung.”

“Daniel needs a lot of things,” Frank said bluntly. “I don’t know how much you were listening in the office, but Daniel, frankly, is in the last months—if not weeks—of his life. His cancer is aggressive and metastasizing and no one would blame you for choosing not to give your lung to your brother.”

“No one except my family?” Evan bared his teeth in an expression more grimace than smile. “Mom will push for anything that is going to help Daniel survive. If I just try to say no, she might very well try to kill me.”

Frank wasn’t sure how to handle that, but it only reinforced the necessity of getting Evan away from his family. “It’s your body and in the state of California, your consent for a medical procedure is necessary. If you decide you don’t consent, the Clinic cannot do anything.”

“I tried saying no once,” Evan said, pressing his hand to his abdomen. Right—the doctor was horrified to realize—where the incision for his kidney donation would be. “I woke up in post-op with a hole in my body I didn’t want. What’s stopping my parents from doing it again? From taking Daniel and I somewhere the law is different and coming back after it’s done?”

“When I left the office to come find you, Dr. Daine was already on the phone calling the Department of Children and Family Services.” Frank said after a moment. He’d needed the moment to gather his composure. It just kept getting worse. “You and your brother are in a complicated situation. The ethics are muddled, and the law is unclear. It’s unlikely that your parents will ever face criminal charges for what they did to you. But if you’re willing, DCFS might be able to help. You don’t need your parents in jail, Evan. You just need to be out of their reach.”

He waited as the teenager thought, as the sun started setting on the horizon, and the breeze blew the smell of the surf up into the garden. Evan had been pushed enough during his life. Frank could give him this opportunity, even if nothing else worked out.

“Okay,” Evan said finally. “Do you think I could wait in the office instead of Daniel’s suite?”

“Of course,” Frank said, standing. “We’ll go straight there.”

The doctor didn’t think he’d ever seen a more brave act.

Sunday, December 10, 2006

The shouting was loud. Even with half the house between Evan’s bedroom and his parents’ office, he could easily make out the sound of Maddie, furious and maybe crying, and his mother, furious and shouting. It would be alarming if Evan had much energy for those types of emotions.

He was more curious about what could have gotten them yelling so loudly. Margaret Buckley ruled their family with an iron fist and none of her children would dare raise their voice to her. Even when Evan-… even Evan hadn’t raised his voice.

His sister was lovely, though, and so passionate about helping people. She’d shown up just a few days ago for one of the few breaks her nursing program gave her, and she’d been frowning and worried the entire time.

“Wow.” Daniel stood in the doorway, letting the wall hold him up as he stared at Evan and listened to the fight. “I didn’t know Maddie could get that loud. I heard her all the way in my room at the end of the hall!”

Daniel smiled and laughed, but Evan didn’t laugh with him. He didn’t even turn to do more than glance at his brother from the corner of his eye. Eventually, the older boy would get tired of being ignored or tired of standing and leave. Evan just wished it would happen faster.

“Come on, Evan! Help me to the stairs. We can listen and see what’s gotten Maddie’s panties in a twist. The book will be there after.”

Evan didn’t respond. He kind of hoped that Daniel got fed up, walked to the stairs on his own and took a header down them. Maybe if he fell, Daniel’s neck would snap. He tucked the dark, vicious satisfaction Evan felt at the thought deep down where he couldn’t feel it.

Who knows what his parents would do to him then?

“If you don’t help me, I’ll tell Mom and Dad you snuck candy from the housekeeper.”

Evan considered the threat. Daniel had a strict diet to support his organs and body as he went in and out of remission. Evan’s diet was stricter. There was no timing involved in when Daniel needed a donation, so Evan had to be in as perfect a physical condition as he could be at any time.

The doctors had even- he shied away from the thought of the surgeon’s wild grin and the memory of the nurse he woke up to ‘such a brave thing you did’ circling in his head tortuously.

He stood, and Daniel cheered from the doorway. Evan would say that there wasn’t much that their parents could do to make him more miserable, though their mother could be inventive in her displeasure. But Daniel’s lie could get Marsha fired and blacklisted at the cleaning service the Buckleys used. There was no reason for her to lose her job just because his brother was an asshole.

He settled Daniel on the top step of the stairs — resisting the urge to push his brother over the edge — and took a seat on the other end of the ridiculous center staircase. They were just in time to watch as their mother dragged Maddie from the study into the foyer, demanding that she get out.

“You are a wretched jealous bitch,” their mother spat, “and I am ashamed you carry my name. What kind of sister advocates for her brother’s death? You’re disgusting. Get out of my sight!”

“This isn’t about Daniel!” Maddie’s voice was shrill and the tone wavered in upset. “It’s about Evan! Mom, I love Daniel. He’s my little brother. I want him to survive. But his survival doesn’t have to come at the expense of Evan’s wellbeing!”

“You’re overreacting.” Margaret Buckley stood with her hands on her hips and stared down at her daughter like a bug. “Evan isn’t dying. And if he told you that, he’s lying.”

“He didn’t need to tell me anything.” Maddie said, frowning. “I can see it. Something or someone hurt Evan terribly. I’ve been here a week, Mom, and I barely see out of his room. He barely eats at meals, the only time he speaks is if you or Dad ask him a question, and he hasn’t smiled once. Something’s wrong!”

“Nothing is wrong.” Their mother shook her head. “Evan is just growing up. He’s going through puberty. He’s emotional because he’s hormonal. Don’t get caught up in trying to find problems where there are none.”

“Even if it is hormonal,” Maddie persisted, “it’s out of balance. He’s not himself. Have you taken him to see someone?”

“For his moods?” Margaret Buckley scoffed, “Daniel is genuinely ill. We don’t have time to waste on Evan’s made-up problems.”

“Okay.” Maddie squared her shoulders and stepped forward. “Let me take him. I have an apartment off campus. It’s small, but the couch is a pullout. I have classes, but they’re not as time consuming as next year. Maybe a change of scenery will help.”

“Absolutely not.” The woman bit out. “Evan doesn’t need to be rewarded for his profane and misplaced jealousy and neither do you. He’s fine, he’s staying.”

“He needs help!”

“I don’t care!” Margaret shouted, the words echoing in the foyer. “Evan has one purpose in life and one purpose only! He was born to save Daniel. If he can’t do that, then why is he even breathing?”

“Sweetheart, do you really—”

“I’m done talking about it. Evan is staying. And if you can’t let it go, Maddie, then you are not.”

“I’ll come back with the police!” Maddie swore. “There’s something wrong with Evan, and it doesn’t matter if you can ignore it! I won’t.”

“I don’t care if you try every cop between here and Baltimore. None of them will take Evan.” Their mother sneered. “That’s the benefit of the last name Buckley. They wouldn’t dare touch us.”

On the other end of the stair, clinging to the banister, Daniel was practically panicking. Twitching and shifting like he wanted to get up and run away from everything they’d heard, but knowing better than to try. The movement catches Margaret’s eye and she turned, suddenly soft and cuddly, abandoning the argument with Maddie as she hurried up the grand staircase to lead her invalid son away from the banister.

“Really, Daniel. You know better.”

She shuffled forward with Daniel in her arms, like Evan wasn’t even there. Invisible. Worthless.

Maddie catches Evan’s eye from the foyer. She burned with determination and fear. Even as their father directed her to the door, Maddie almost refused to turn away from the staircase and Evan. Once upon a time, in a life less fucked up than this one, he might have even fought to get to her. But he’d learned his lesson well the last time. He couldn’t escape hell.

He pressed a hand into his stomach, trying to ease a dull ache in his abdomen that never went away. He wouldn’t be able to handle it a second time. Running away would just make it hurt worse when they dragged him back.

He turned away as Philip Buckley told his daughter, “I think it’s time you left.”

Monday, February 16th, 2009/Thursday, August 10th, 2006

William Abram was young. That was Evan’s first thought when he met the social worker. He couldn’t have been much older than Evan, what with the jeans, the graphic t-shirt, and the red-top converse. His smile had just a hint of a bite, but Evan didn’t feel like he needed to worry. Kids his age could be mean, and Daniel had certainly never been his friend, but it had been adults in their suits and ties and occasional lab coat that had never done him much good.

He figured this adult that looked more like a kid might be just what he needed.

“Hi,” the social worker greeted Evan as he took the seat across the table from him. “I’m Will, can I call you Evan?”

Evan nodded. He wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans and took a deep breath, and when that didn’t work, he took another. “I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s okay. These things are kind of awkward, right?” Will set his notebook aside and propped his chin on his fist. “So, how about an introduction? Like the good doctors probably told you, my name is Will Abram and I’m a social worker with the city of Los Angeles that specializes in cases of minors with special medical concerns. Most of the time, that would be children with health issues. Severe asthma, epilepsy, developmental issues, or even cancer.”

“What- what about a donor like me?” Evan bit his lip. “I’m not- I’m not sick.”

“You’re not physically sick,” Will clarified gently. “But I’m guessing, Evan, that there has been more than one time in your life when you avoided telling your parents no because you knew it wouldn’t help.”

A hundred thousand memories flashed in his mind.

“I did tell them no, once.” Evan said into the waiting silence, gaze on his hands. “It didn’t help at all.”

“Okay.” Will pulled the notebook closer as he waved the doctors out of the office. “How about if we start there?”

It felt like a story engraved on his bones. Something so fundamental to his self that it would never dim or blur away. Trauma, Evan figured, was probably just like that. All sharp angles and cutting wounds that stretch and tear and re-open with every telling, every memory.

He flinched as he caught Will’s hand move on the table but said nothing as the social worker shifted his notebook. “When you’re ready, Evan. Whenever you’re ready.”

It would be two years in August. The dates blurred a little. The entire year had blurred out a lot in his memory. Like his mind had tried to blot it out, but had gotten everything else instead. He remembered it had been summer, though. Hot and humid.

Evan had packed a bag, money, and a map to his sister’s address. The Philadelphia Medical University wasn’t really that far away. One long bus ride and two trains and he’d finally be with Maddie. Maybe a couple of hours, he remembered thinking, until he was free. God, he’d been so stupid. ‘Anything for Daniel’ had been the slogan of the Buckley family his entire life, and his parents had certainly owned up to it.

He didn’t remember having any plans. No idea of what would happen after he got to Maddie’s. If she could keep him, or if he’d have to run again. But he’d been certain Maddie could help. She’d always helped him before.

The sun was just beginning to set. The evening was clear, and it was lucky that this had been the best day to go. There was no rain on the forecast tonight and none for the past week. If he had to run through the hiking trail, at least he wouldn’t get muddy. Evan had to go now. He’d make the eastbound bus barely in time to grab a ticket at this rate. There wasn’t any time to waste.

Quietly, he finished packing the bag and zipping it up. He edged the door of his bedroom open and waited, heart thundering in his chest. A minute goes by, then a second and a third. He didn’t hear anything. He didn’t have time to wait any longer.

Evan didn’t know what he could do if he escaped the house, but didn’t make it to the bus. He’d start walking, of course, but he knew how powerful his father was with the local community. Nightmares of being dragged back to his parents’ feet in cuffs probably weren’t an exaggeration.

He tiptoed down the stairs, skipping the one that squeaked and avoiding grabbing the banister as was his habit. It wobbled and would have been a clear sign that someone had been there.

The front door was only a couple yards away, but it was heavy, locked, and the front lawn had motion sensitive lights for security. The kitchen door was almost opposite where he was, but it only had the one lock and if the backyard had lights, then at least all the bedrooms currently in use faced the front.

The house was silent. Somewhere between the pantry tucked underneath the stairs and the kitchen, Evan had to take a moment and lean against the wall. He was so scared dark spots were creeping into his vision. But he couldn’t just go with the plan. He’d told them no. Evan had said he didn’t want to. He’d told them he would run away. They hadn’t listened.

He couldn’t go with his parents’ plan. He couldn’t give up.

Evan took a deep breath, straightened from his lean against the wall, and headed toward the kitchen again. All he needed to do was get to the door.

“Evan?” Philip Buckley’s voice came from the breakfast nook on the other side of the kitchen. “What are you doing? You should be in bed. You have surgery tomorrow.”

Evan took a deep breath, flipped up the security pad and started to enter the code he’d stolen from his dad’s office earlier in the week. “No. I don’t.”

“What?”

“I told you. I don’t want to give Daniel my kidney. I’m leaving.”

“He’s your brother.”

Evan rolled his eyes. “He can go on a waitlist. That’s what they exist for. And you could,”—he cringed—“buy him a kidney. That’s got to be less expensive in the long run than making a kid.”

“We did buy him a kidney,” Margaret Buckley’s voice slid over him in the dark like an oil slick. “We bought him yours.”

His fingers trembled on the numbers, screwing up for the second time as the pad flashed read and the display read ‘locked’. He shuddered. He wasn’t getting out this way now.

Evan considered the windows. There was the big bay window in the breakfast nook, but he didn’t think he could get past his dad without the man grabbing him. The window over the stove was smaller and higher. There’d be a bit of a drop, but it’d be less risky.

“And I said no.” Evan replied, marching over to the stove. “You can’t just steal someone’s organs. There’s got to be a law against that.”

“We’re not stealing anything.” Margaret moved in front of the stove and crossed her arms. “It’s your kidney. You’re our minor child. It’s all perfectly legal.”

“Except for how I don’t want to give Daniel my kidney!” Evan barely resisted the urge to stomp his foot. “Mom, move away from the stove. I’m leaving and you can’t stop me!”

“Like hell I’m letting you run away!” She sneered. “This is what you were born for. You keep saying that it’s your kidney, that you don’t want to give it to Daniel, but you’re not listening, Evan. The only reason you even exist is to save your brother. The only reason you’ve survived until now was because you could provide something for your brother no one else could.”

Evan’s heart would be broken if he’d grown up in any house but his parents’. He’d never doubted exactly how much they didn’t love him.

A shadow moved in the corner of his eye and Evan shifted to move, but it wasn’t enough. The syringe stabbing him in the shoulder was a sharp agony, the injection a burning sensation. Whatever was left of his heart tore at the inside of his chest like so much shattered glass.

“Your opinion has never mattered, Evan.” Margaret Buckley said as she watched her husband catch the boy. “If you can’t save Daniel, then what good are you? Why even bother existing?”

Evan had blinked awake to the institutional grey wall swimming into focus before his brain could process it. A beeping sounded rhythmically near his head and there was a dull ache in his belly. Something about this was wrong. But each time Evan reached for it, it slipped through his fingers.

He didn’t have the energy to try harder. Didn’t have the energy to do more than float.

The floaty feeling didn’t stay, though. The room came clearer into picture and the pain in his belly sharpened and panic rose thick in his throat. The beeping near his head – the vitals monitor – started screeching and quick footsteps entered his room.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. You’re okay.” The nurse repeated, carefully taking his hand and holding it tightly. “You need to be careful. The incision isn’t—“

“What.” Evan blinked past tears, the sob stuck in his throat. “What?”

“You’re okay, Evan.” The nurse repeated, grabbing the empty visitor’s chair and pulling it closer. “Your parents are just down the hall with your brother. He’s being monitored for graft rejection. You did such a brave and lovely thing, giving him your kidney.”

Evan didn’t even have the breath or energy to say anything. Could barely even figure out what to say that could begin to match the depths of horror he felt and the betrayal that cut him to the core.

He just watched as the nurse frowned and then scooted closer. Wiping away at the tears that dripped down his face.

“Evan, are you okay?” The nurse grabbed another tissue. “Are you in pain? Evan?”

Evan just closed his eyes and let the tears come. He didn’t have the strength for anything else.

In the office at the Los Angeles Clinic for Experimental Cancer Research, Evan shook and cried all over again. His heart was in his throat as he gasped as soundlessly as he could over the pain arching through his chest. His family had hurt him. Had betrayed him. Had cut him open and stolen something from him that he would never get back.

Evan blinked back the salt water from his eyes. Daniel needed a lung. Margaret and Philip Buckley would not hesitate to take it from him. To cut him open and just reach in and take it.

But there was a scalpel in the penholder on Dr. Daine’s desk. Scissors in the draw of the antechamber to Daniel’s room. An ocean within walking distance.

Suddenly, there were options.

“Evan, can you hear me?”

The sound felt kind of muffled, and when he turned to look at Will Abram, the colors looked washed out. Everything felt overexposed. The social worker nudged the box of tissues across the table. “Do you want a hug?”

Evan blinked. “A hug?”

“Yeah, Evan.” Will leaned forward. “I think you need a hug. But I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”

Evan stared. There was a part of Evan, the one that screamed in his nightmares, that planned the escape attempt two years ago. The part that made sure he attempted his school work, and reminded the rest of him every so often, that two years wasn’t so long. That there were places and jobs where a college diploma or a GED didn’t make a difference.

That part wanted to fling himself into Will’s arms and beg for a way out. The rest of him, the parts of his mind and soul that were fractured and burnt, that hurt at the thought that this stranger could offer comfort when his parents couldn’t be bothered, those parts flinched.

“No, thank you.”

“That’s okay. Just know- it doesn’t have an expiration date.” Will capped his pen and seemed to meditate for a moment on the notes he’d taken. Evan couldn’t even stand to see the page. “Here’s what’s going to happen next. I’m going to take you away from here, we’re going to get some food—probably Chinese because it’s my favorite—and then we’re going to spend the night at DCFS on sleeping bags and camp mats while I try to get a hold of a family court judge and a foster family that can take you in. What do you think?”

“You believe me?”

“Yeah, Evan. You’ve been through hell, and I hope this will be a good turning point for you. You deserve better.”

***

Will sat at the conference table near the door with his notebook and his files as Evan set up the narrow pallet and pile of blankets on the far side of the table. Judge Jaeger had suggested Athena and Michael Grant, who certainly looked like good candidates for Evan’s foster parents, but it had been almost five years since they’ve had a placement.

They’d requested time off. The birth of their daughter May had been a stressful time and while there had never been a single black mark against them, the Grants had been under stress and requested to step out of the role of foster family. Will grimaced a little at cold calling them with a request to reconsider.

He stepped out of the conference room as the call dialed. Evan didn’t need to hear him begging someone to take the boy in.

“Grant Household.” A woman’s voice answered, the sound of water running and the clink of dishes nearby while laughter echoed lightly from somewhere farther away.

“Sergeant Grant, I’m glad I caught you. This is Will Abram with the Department of Children and Family Services. I apologize for calling near dinner time.” Will resisted the urge to pace.

“We were just finishing,” Athena reassured. “I have a shift starting in just a few.” Will could hear her move farther away from the laughter as doors open and shut. “Is this about a placement?”

“It’s an unusual situation.” Will hedged a little. He peeked out the door, but the teen had flopped onto his pile of blankets and pulled out a tablet. “Judge Jaeger suggested you for the placement.”

“Color me surprised,” Athena sighed. “Is it a girl or a boy, school age or younger?”

“Boy, sixteen. But not currently enrolled in school.”

“I don’t know, Will. May is only seven. What kind of trouble is he in?”

“He’s not in trouble, Athena,” Will corrected gently. “Or not the kind you’re thinking of. I can’t share much without officially assigning him to your home, but it’s both the exact type of emotional abuse you’d expect and not at all the usual type of physical abuse.”

The pause sounded intrigued to Will, or at least he hoped it would be. “Do you expect it to be a long-term situation?”

“Long term at your house? Probably not. To be frank, Athena, you’re not a house we’d put a long term foster in without serious thought. Because of your job, your home situation is unstable and usually not good for foster kids.”

“But you think this kid could use some help from us?”

“I think he’d appreciate having a foster parent with a badge, a gun, and indelible integrity standing between him and his biological parents.” Will sighed. “My hope is that he has some relatives that check out and would take custody of him eventually. But that might be next week or next year or never. I haven’t even started the process of reaching out to anyone.”

“Alright, Will.” Athena sighed. “Tell me about this kid.”

Later, just as the alarm on Will’s phone went off and Athena was signing off to go talk to her husband, a knock sounded at the door. “Yeah?”

Evan stuck his head in the door. “Dinner’s at the door, Will.”

“Great timing.”

Dinner was from a local restaurant, Asian Eclectic, that was used to the quirks of serving DCFS, what with the likelihood of allergies and picky eaters. The bag had a good selection of mains and sides, dessert and silverware. Drinks were from the vending machine up the hall.

“This is a lot of food.” Evan laughed a little as Will laid out the options.

He shrugged. “Whatever we don’t eat will be leftovers for the crew on tomorrow. They won’t be sad about that at all. That’s if there are leftovers.” Will eyed the offering. “Teenagers like you are practically voids with how much you eat.”

“I don’t eat a lot.” Evan said quietly, just staring at the food. “Mom always kept me on a strict diet—almost more strict than Daniel’s—just in case something I ate could interfere with an emergency donation. Then after- after-,” Evan huffed and rubbed at his eyes. “A couple of years ago, it just got harder. Nothing was appetizing. Nothing was tasty. And I just never wanted to eat.”

Will frowned. A loss of appetite was not an uncommon result of trauma and God knows Evan’s life has been full of that, but years of struggling to eat because of emotional reasons could cause other problems. He made a mental note to email Evan’s therapist and then backtracked and made an actual note to talk to Evan about a going to a therapist.

No child in the foster system was going to have a great time. They were all bundles of trauma and neurosis wrapped up in vaguely fashionable looking coats. Evan’s might have a unique cause, but it didn’t change that he had them.

“Well, you can eat whatever you want from this. But try to take it slow. If your stomach isn’t used to heavily processed foods or spices, then it might get upset.”

Evan wrinkled his nose before grabbing one of the forks to dig into the Korean BBQ and stir-fried vegetables.

“Do you have any family outside of Daniel and your parents?” Will asked as he queued up the system again. The automatic log out function was both Will’s saving grace and pain in the foot.

“Why?”

“Because it’s always a better option to place kids with family that can take care of them, than into the system.” Will opened the soda with a hiss, crackle, and snap.

“I have an uncle, I think.” Evan shrugged. “I’m not sure about which side of the family he’s on. Mom and Dad haven’t gotten along with him in years.”

“Excellent first reference.” Will smirked, jotting down that note.

“And a sister.” Evan finally said after a minute of hesitant silence. “Maddie was at school for nursing when she got into a fight with our parents. They moved us while she was attending exams. Haven’t heard from her since.”

“If you had a choice, which would you pick?” Will asked, “Your uncle? Or your sister?”

“I don’t know.” Evan admitted quietly.

***

Part Two: Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Athena took a deep breath as the grey sedan pulled into her driveway. “This is it.”

“It’s going to be okay, Athena.” Michael’s grip on her shoulders was steady and familiar. She took a deep breath.

“What if we can’t help him?”

Michael grimaced; she could see it in the glass reflection. “Rome wasn’t built in a day. People don’t heal on a timeline. It’s not constant, it’s not perfect, and there will be bad days. But we agreed to be a safe place for kids who need to heal. Evan needs that.”

“I know.” Athena swallowed. “It’s just always so hard. I already love him.”

“That’s your heart, Athena,” Michael chuckled. “It’s what I first loved about you. It’s go big or go home with you, no matter what.”

Athena huffed, “I hope that’s what he needs.”

“We’re about to find out.” Michael pointed out as he opened the storm door. “And try to smile, Athena. Before you scare the poor boy.”

“Grants,” Will greeted with a smile. “This is Evan. Evan, this is Michael and Athena Grant.”

Athena had seen a lot of kids with the glazed shock and wild panic look in their eyes. Evan… Evan just looked tired. Like his soul carried a hundred years more than his body and he was just waiting time out.

It wasn’t the resignation that came with experience with the foster system or the streets. It was a genuine exhaustion that deadened his eyes and wore down his heart.

He looked like he could use a hug. A hundred of them, honestly.

“Come on in, Evan.” She held open the door. “Have you had breakfast yet? I made a quiche.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Evan admitted quietly as he entered the house with his bags. Behind them, Athena vaguely heard Michael chatting with Will.

“It’s a breakfast casserole.” Athena directed him to the dining table. “Mostly egg, bread, and vegetables. I like spinach. Michael likes mushrooms, and May usually picks it all out. Do you eat any of that?”

Evan shrugged. “My parents were really specific about my diet. Will promised I’d be trying lots of new things.”

“Like what?” May popped up from the couch and Evan must not have noticed her because he jerked in surprise and the chair screeched across the tile floor.

“Evan, this is our daughter, May.” Athena resisted the urge to frown at his behavior. It likely wouldn’t even be the worst she’d notice while he stayed with them. “May, this is Evan. He’s going to stay with us for a while.”

She frowned at the boy. “Do you like dolls?”

Evan offered a timid smile. “Do you like playing with dolls?”

May rolled her eyes—except for how she hadn’t quite figured it out, so her entire head rolled too—“Of course! Mama got me a new dolly. It came with makeup!”

The kind that only worked on the doll, thank God.

“That sounds neat.”

Athena watched Evan cautiously interact with May, Michael, and even the social worker. He was cautious, timid, but not broken. Uncertain, she figured, as she watched him nibble at the quiche. Not quite ready to believe he was safe. And tired. Tired was exactly right. Evan had been barely surviving for so long that Athena could see his exhaustion in the slump of his shoulders and the slow movement of his fork.

God, Athena hoped they could give this kid a break.

Michael showed Will to the door and Evan stood, maybe to run away, maybe to collect some dishes, probably not to pick a fight; though she’d seen all of it before. The foster care system was not kind.

“Stay a moment, Evan.” Athena considered the teen in the seat across from her. She didn’t know everything, but she knew enough that the whole situation- “Kind of sucks, doesn’t it?”

“What?” Evan jerked his head up with a wide-eyed look.

“The situation. Your brother’s illness, your parents losing their minds, that you’re not safe in your parents’ care. It all sucks.”

Evan huffed a quiet breath and gave a one shoulder shrug. “I don’t really know any different.”

And that was a crime of epic proportions.

“I know you don’t trust me, or Michael.” Athena took his hands in hers, lightly—in case he wanted to pull away. “I don’t see how you could with parents like them. But I hope you can give us a chance to earn it.”

Evan hesitated. “Mom always said I existed because Daniel needed me. That I owed my life to him, so I should- what? Be happy to give it up to him?”

“No one is born only to die.” Athena said sternly, perhaps a little too sternly, given how Evan flinched. “The only person born to be a sacrifice was the Christ. I don’t know about you, but I ain’t old enough to know him.”

Evan coughed on a laugh. “You’d look good for your age.”

“Psh.” Athena waved a hand. “I’d be turning into dust if I were that old!”

“I don’t know if I can believe it.” Evan said quietly, as he stood collecting the breakfast dishes. “That I won’t wake up and be right back where I came from. Or worse, on the operating table again.”

Athena took a deep breath. “I don’t think anything’s going to help with that but time. Or, you know, therapy.”

“Or both?” He asked with a cautious smile.

Athena nodded strongly, “Both is good.”

She didn’t know everything that Evan had survived so far, but she thought the boy was stronger than he thought he was. Evan was going to make it through this, even if she had to wake him up every day with the reminder that spite was a great motivation when you had nothing else to go on.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

“As you already know, my name is Will Abram.” The so-called social worker said, setting down his files and notebook. Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, Margaret didn’t care who he was. He couldn’t be someone serious. Not dressed like that. “I’m the social worker assigned to your son Evan’s case.”

“You just took him in the middle of the night.” Margaret glared at the overgrown teenager. “Not a word to us about the circumstances or a warning that there would be a visit from social services!”

“It was completely uncivilized,” Philip agreed, a dark frown creasing his face. “Don’t think you’ll get away with it. I’ve already been in contact with my lawyers.”

Will hummed noncommittally. “I specialize in special needs cases. Specifically minors with medical complications. Multiple life threatening allergies, birth defects, developmental problems, illness and disease. Evan is an unusual case in that it’s not him who has the special needs but his brother.”

“You can’t take Daniel!” Margaret stood with a shriek. “I won’t allow it!”

“You obstruct my ability to do my job, Mrs. Buckley, and you could end up in jail for months.” He considered her with an odd little tilt to his head and eyes as cold as ice. “I hear your eldest son is sick. It’d be a lot of time to miss from his side.”

Margaret Buckley shivered. Her heart thudded in her chest, and she clenched her hands to keep them from trembling. Slowly, she sat. Will Abram was cruel if he could so casually threaten her time with her precious boy. Hidden by the table, Philip took her hand and squeezed. He would always stand by her side.

“How do we get this cleared up?” Philip cleared his throat. “This didn’t get off on a great start. We’re sorry about that. The whole situation with Daniel is already stressful enough and now this mess Evan has made. What do we do, Mr. Abram? I don’t know what lies Evan has been telling, but really I can’t imagine this is anything more than procedure. It’s not like we’ve been abusing him or something.”

“Honestly.” Margaret huffed, heart still in her throat, hand clenching her husbands, as she tried to figure out how to fix this. “Between Daniel’s condition requiring frequent hospitalization and Evan’s habit of running away, we rarely spend much time with him to begin with.”

Abram noted something about that in his notebook. She couldn’t read it from this angle and Margaret had to bite her tongue to keep from complaining. That couldn’t help their case. “Are you aware that admitting you don’t spend much time with your son could be considered a sign of abuse?”

Philip sputtered, “he’s sixteen.”

“Certainly that’s old enough to be left alone for significant periods of time.” Margaret argued, horrified at the thought that she had to spend more time with the leech. Daniel needed her. “It’s not like he’s an infant.”

“I see.”

He couldn’t. It wasn’t possible, not with the way he stared at them. Not with the way he threatened them.

“So, when can we get him back?”

The fear that had paralyzed her was melting into fury. She would do anything for her son. Evan wasn’t even a blip on the dashboard. How dare this little boy dare threaten her Daniel.

“Every complaint has to be thoroughly documented and investigated so that if necessary, a pattern of behavior can be established.” Abram finally said, “Evan will be returned to your custody if it’s deemed the best choice for his emotional and physical wellbeing. But only after a thorough investigation and custody hearing can take place.”

“How long should that take?” Philip thought to ask.

“A few months—“

“Months?” Margaret blurted, shocked. “We don’t have—“

“Have what?” Abram asked, his manner rather rigid. As though what he already knew about the Buckleys had biased him against them.

Margaret swallowed the vitriol on her tongue. It tasted bitter. “A ‘few months’ is just quite a long time. Will it really take so long?”

“The investigation has to be thorough and Evan’s is not the only case I’m working on.” Abram said, “A few months is really the minimum it should be.”

“Why?” Margaret’s mouth was dry, and it felt like she had to shove the words out of her mouth. “Whatever Evan said, certainly it won’t be substantiated. It’s not like we’ve ever had a complaint against us!”

“That’s not actually true.” Abram pulled documents from his folder. “There were three complaints from teachers at Evan’s previous schools citing disengagement with his education and concerning lack of parental oversight in his daily activities. And of course there were four different members of the University of Pennsylvania’s Teaching Hospital that submitted complaints concerning how Evan’s kidney donation was handled.”

Margaret clenched her jaw. That was private confidential medical information. It was beyond the pale, the absolute limit that this ignorant cretin could be allowed their medical information. Daniel was their son. His care had to be exceptional. They would accept nothing else. But this social worker is disrupting everything they’ve been working toward.

“Just in case that wasn’t obvious,”—Abram said as he closed the folder—“Evan didn’t make the complaint to DCFS. And even if he did, the procedure would have been the same. DCFS, on my recommendation, has decided that Evan is at imminent emotional and physical threat under your custody.”

“I’ve never hit that child in my life!” Margaret objected strenuously.

“No, but there’s enough circumstantial evidence that you’ve drugged him, at least once, to get around the fact that he no longer wanted to be his brother’s donor.”

Margaret bit back the immediate response that Evan didn’t get a choice. She wasn’t surprised. The boy was a selfish wretch and most others in their life couldn’t comprehend the immense sacrifice they endured for their son. None of them had ever had the authority to do anything about it, though. Staring into the cold eyes of the social worker watching them, Margaret Buckley started making plans. “We’ll hire a lawyer.”

“You’re welcome to,” Abram said. “And your lawyer is welcome to reach out to DCFS. My supervisor is Elaine McGregor, and I’m Will Abram. Now, I need to head over and interview your son, Daniel.”

“Why?” Margaret snapped. “He’s not a minor. You can’t take him too.”

“Daniel is in a very interesting place, legally.” Abram said. “A case could be made that he’s not healthy enough to make his own decisions and that DCFS could step in temporarily.”

Philip gasped in horror and Margaret wasn’t too far off. She clenched her fists because she wanted to reach out and punch the smug little smirk right off his face and if she let go, Margaret didn’t know what she’d do. She might not even care, except that it really wouldn’t help her case against DCFS.

“Admittedly, I really don’t think that’s likely.” Abram frowned. “I think, given his health and his academic and medical records, you’re doing the best you can.”

“Wouldn’t that mean we were good parents, though?” Philip argued. “Why would you take Evan and not Daniel?”

“Because children don’t have the same relationship with their parents. Medical reasons are actually the best excuse I’ve seen. I removed a child from a home with four other children that I left because they weren’t receiving the same treatment as the rest.”

Abram sighed. “I know you think I’m the bad guy, and that’s fine. I don’t really care. But if you really, truly love your son Evan and want him back, I’m willing to work with you to do that.”

“Why?” Philip asked.

“Because some parents don’t know they’re doing anything wrong. Parenting classes, therapy, and a wake up call are sometimes all they need. If you’re willing to change, to work with the system for Evan’s best interests, then he could easily be back in your custody in a few months.”

Margaret clenched her jaw. That was far too long for Daniel to survive without a new lung. Fortunately, money provided a multitude of options. They would hire the best family court lawyer in the LA area. They would gather their evidence and make their arguments the legal way. But none of that meant they couldn’t look into… alternatives. For Daniel’s sake.

***

The man who took a seat in Daniel’s visiting chair couldn’t have been much older than him. Brown hair and brown eyes. He’d be attractive if Daniel’s mother hadn’t just spent the last half hour arguing with him. Though Daniel didn’t really understand what was going on.

Evan had vanished in the early afternoon, just after the meeting with Dr. Daine and Dr. Bachman, and hadn’t been seen since. It happened sometimes. Evan wasn’t big on hospitals, which Daniel always thought was ironic since at least his brother wasn’t a patient. But something else had happened in the evening.

Daniel had heard his mother yelling. Screaming really. She was always so controlled, but last night she’d practically lost her mind at whatever had happened. His dad had stayed in the room until it sounded like things had settled down and then left to find out what had happened.

Which Daniel still hadn’t been told about. All he knew was that this man had shown up an hour or so ago and had told his parents that they couldn’t be in the room while he spoke to Daniel. He didn’t even know why the man needed to speak with him.

“Good morning, Daniel.” The man said, settling into the guest chair. “My name is Will Abram and I’m a social worker with the city of Los Angeles.”

Well, that didn’t sound good. “I’m not a minor.”

“You actually reside in a very interesting sphere, legally.” Abram said, “You’ve abdicated the responsibilities of being an adult in favor of remaining dependent on your parents because of your extreme ill health. It means that a case could be made to remove you from your parents’ care if it was deemed necessary.” He flipped open his notebook to a blank page. “And while I would certainly step in if you were in trouble, I’m actually here on behalf of your brother, Evan.”

“What?” Daniel snorted. “Did he get caught trying to run away again?”

Abram stared for a moment and Daniel got the feel that there was more going on here than he understood. “I removed him from your parents’ custody.”

“Why?” Daniel’s breath hitched in his chest. “It’s not like he’s being abused. He’s got clothes and food, a place to sleep. Mom and Dad would never hurt him.”

“There are a lot of ways for a guardianship situation to become abusive.” Abram said. “Sometimes it’s obvious and sometimes it’s not. You said your brother tried running away once. Do you know what happened?”

“It was just some bullshit teenage drama.” Daniel tried waving it away, like his mother always did—Evan was so selfish to make everything about him—, but Abram appeared to want details. He sighed. “Evan tried running away right before the surgery for my kidney transplant. Thank God they caught him, though.” Daniel chuckled, “Surgery wouldn’t have gone well without a donor.”

“Tell me about your family.” Abram tapped his pen against his notebook. “What was it like growing up in the Buckley house? Did you play sports? Join Boy Scouts? Do well in school?”

“With my health?” Daniel scoffed. “Mom and Dad were way too protective for that. Because of the leukemia, even a minor injury or infection could have been deadly.”

“Being careful didn’t keep you out of the hospital.” Abram pointed out. “I’m sure that got frustrating.”

“My parents have always tried to do the best for me.” Daniel reassured. It would have been nice to join groups and make new friends, but Daniel was sure it would be exhausting to explain how restricted his lifestyle was. It had probably been better that it was just his family growing up. “I couldn’t do sports or clubs, but we had a lot of days when I was younger just laying in bed with movies and snacks. Always the best food too. Organic and local. Healthiest ingredients, highest level of nutrients. Sometimes I remember thinking it was gross, but the cook was always great about making it healthy and tasty.”

“I bet that was fun. Snuggling up with your siblings for some quiet fun.” Abram smiled. “What was your favorite?”

“Land Before Time.” Daniel laughed. He could practically hear the theme music now. “I swore I’d be a paleontologist when I grew up. Still sometimes dream about going out on a dig and finding some new type of dinosaur.”

“And your older sister? Maddie, right? What was her favorite movie?”

“The Little Mermaid.” He rolled his eyes, like Maddie would ever meet her prince. “I must have watched that a hundred times growing up.”

“Common, with little girls, I think.” Abram nodded, “And Evan?”

Daniel frowned, “What about Evan?”

Abram arched a brow, all attitude, like Daniel was playing dumb intentionally. “Surely Evan had a favorite movie? You’ve spent a lot of time in hospitals recently. That’d probably give you a lot of time to watch new things, too. What’s his favorite?”

“He was too young for a lot of those parties.” Daniel answered abruptly. His heart was pounding for no obvious reason, and the silent monitor recorded all of it. His nurse stood near the glass door, frowning as he watched the conversation. “Then I had too much homework and the movie days became time spent with my tutor. The state of Pennsylvania really didn’t have a lot of compassion for my health.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Abram frowned. “California is pretty strict with schooling as well.”

“Then I’m glad I’ve already graduated.” Daniel laughed and spitefully shared — “though from the sounds of it, Evan might not ever graduate.”

“Oh? He has trouble in school?”

“Mom said that he’s failing. Not paying attention in class, not turning in assignments, not taking advantage of tutors.” Daniel knew it wasn’t nice, but he really couldn’t understand why this man would take Evan from his family. Evan didn’t have anything going for him. He wasn’t special. “But I think Evan’s just dumb. He’s not even in any advanced classes. I spent most of my schooling in and out of the hospital and I still managed better grades in advanced classes than he does in basic ones.”

Abram pulled out a sheet of paper. “But you had tutors to help, right?”

“Yeah, of course. There were three of them.” Talia Smith was still his favorite. She had been beautiful. Mr. Gaines had been far less pleasant. “My parents are great at making sure I have what I need to succeed, even from a hospital bed. And since money is no object. It really wasn’t a big deal.”

“I see.”

That sounded far more ominous than Abram really had any right to be. He was just a bureaucrat. Will Abram wasn’t anyone special, either. His parents would make quick work of whatever his problem was.

“Great. So when can my parents pick up Evan?”

“Hopefully at the dawn of never.” Abram’s tone was dry, and Daniel’s heart lodged its way into his throat. The nurse was watching again.

Daniel scowled, “What do you mean ‘never’? Mom and Dad are great parents. Evan has to come back.”

“Why?” Abram tilted his head. If he was trying for curious, the social worker just looked dumb. “You haven’t seen your brother since yesterday afternoon and haven’t asked after him once. You clearly don’t miss him. So why do you want him back?”

“Where else is he going to go?” Daniel pointed out reasonably. “We’re his family.”

“There’s this system called foster care.” Abram said slowly, like Daniel was the idiot. “It’s where we help children in harmful situations find safe places to finish growing.”

“It would be better if he just came back,” Daniel frowned. “Mom and Dad might not pay for his hospital stay if Evan lives with someone else.”

They certainly hadn’t spent any time or attention on Maddie after she moved away to school. Daniel knew she’d received some kind of allowance, but he couldn’t imagine living off that was better than letting their parents take care of everything.

“Why would Evan end up in the hospital?” Abram sat at the edge of his chair, frowning.

Daniel canted his head this time. The social worker could not be this stupid. “Evan’s going to give me a new lung. The Clinic won’t start the experimental treatment unless my body is in better shape.”

“And Evan agreed to this?”

“He doesn’t have to,” Daniel shook his head, “helping me fight cancer is why Evan exists.”

“No. It’s not.” Abram said carefully. “In fact, I’m going to work extremely hard so that your brother never even has to look at your parents again.”

“What?” Daniel sputtered. How could this government peon think he could win against the Buckleys in any fight? His parents would be on the phone with his boss tonight and Evan would be back in the clinic by tomorrow.

“The very first thing I’m going to tell you is that siblings with the same parents, growing up in the same house, can have very different relationships with their parents.” Abram stared at him. “Your health prevented your involvement in school, sports, and clubs, according to your parents. So why didn’t they let your brother join them?

“You told me you thought Evan was dumb because he was failing classes when you passed advanced courses while in the hospital. Except you had tutors to catch you up on everything you missed. Money was no object in getting you the best care, right? So why doesn’t your brother have tutors if your parents insist on pulling him out of school whenever you end up in the hospital?”

He kept his mouth shut. Abram had clearly made up his mind already. And Daniel didn’t make a habit of arguing with fools.

Abram sighed, “What I’ll leave you with is this: no one should be born only to save someone else’s life. Children have intrinsic value just for existing regardless of who their parents are or where and when and how they were born. Your brother doesn’t want to donate his lung to you, Daniel. So I’m going to make sure he doesn’t have to.”

“I’ll die.” Daniel said, stunned. Abram would kill him—because, without Evan, his body would fail—just because his brother didn’t want to help. What fresh hell was this? “If Evan doesn’t give me a lung, the cancer will kill me.”

Abram stared at him, and Daniel scowled. “You haven’t seen your brother in nearly a day and you don’t care how he’s doing. You say that without Evan, the cancer will kill you; don’t you realize your treatment of your brother is killing him just as much? I wonder if the doctors considered cellular growth and organ transplant, combined with the number of times Evan donated bone marrow too. How much of your body is yours? And how much is actually your brother Evan’s?”

***

Dr. Bachman closed the door behind him on the way in. “Well? Is there a case?”

“Evan is so fucking lucky we’re in California.” Will sighed as he slouched against the table. “There’s really no case for child abuse. The law can’t require love, which at this point is really what’s missing from the Buckleys. They don’t love their youngest son. They really only see him as spare parts, so they don’t care about his opinion. And honestly, there’s nothing to say that if Evan had been treated well that he wouldn’t have laid down on the operating table and cut open his chest for his brother himself.”

“It’s to our benefit then, as ugly as it is, that the Buckleys were so inconsiderate with their youngest.” Dr. Daine said quietly, “There’s no reason to waste a good lung, halve a healthy life, for a dying patient.”

“So, it’s official?” Will asked, “Daniel Buckley is dying?”

“Daniel Buckley has been dying by inches his entire life,” Dr. Bachman cleaned his glasses with as he thought. “But yes, it’s clear from the tests that the leukemia is advancing aggressively and he doesn’t really have any more resources to fight it with.”

“The Buckleys won’t agree.”

“No,” Dr. Daine said, “but I’ve been in contact with the board of trustees and the director of the clinic about the issue and both have agreed to abide by our decision. We will not be performing the lung transplant.”

“We probably will end up capitulating on the demand for the project participation.” Dr. Bachman continued. “We’ll put them off a little longer by informing them we’ve started the process with our oversight board to start his participation as a life-saving effort.”

“But you’re certain that it won’t work?”

Dr. Daine shrugged. “I mean, I will not discount a miracle. Ever. But if there are higher powers watching over the Buckley family, I have to believe they’re doing their best by Evan.”

“All quantifiable measures of science and medicine tell us that Daniel Buckley is too weak and too sick to survive the preliminary infection.” Dr. Bachman shrugged, “but there could be a miracle.”

“I think you’re right.” Will said with a sigh. “I think if there was a miracle, then it was that Evan Buckley survived long enough to be saved from this wretched life.”

“It’s a deeply concerning topic.” Dr. Bachman admitted. “The depths that these parents went to save Daniel are horrific. I’m still very nervous about what they might do if their son takes a turn for the worse and their custody bid fails.”

Will frowned. “You think that they’re- what? Going to kidnap their younger son?”

“I don’t know.” Dr. Daine said, “but we should point out that men and women of the Buckleys’ financial status are rarely told no. They have the financial, and through that, legal, means of making lives very difficult, messy, and potentially dangerous.”

“I could see a situation where the Buckleys might hire someone to kidnap Evan,” Dr. Bachman admitted. “I doubt they’d know the details. People in power rarely do, but they likely have staff who would know how to arrange such a thing.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t do much to defend against that.” Will sighed. “But his foster mother is a police officer and their house is quite secure. But I’ll put a note in his file and inform Athena of your concerns. At least if Evan goes missing, we can start with the Buckleys.”

Dr. Daine snorted helplessly, “We have an ace in our pockets, you know. The only reason the Buckleys have to bother Evan is if Daniel takes a downturn. Which he will. But anyone capable of doing the transplant surgery would demand they be as close as possible for the health of the organs.”

“So even if Evan goes missing, we just need to keep an eye on Daniel.”

“More than that,” Dr. Bachman pointed out. “Daniel is not going anywhere quickly. He’s fast approaching the condition where transport in anything but an ambulance is simply not possible.”

“How long do you think?”

The doctors exchanged a look.

“Perhaps a week,” Dr. Daine finally suggested. “He’ll downturn hard once we get him started on the preliminary virus.”

Will paused and stared at the doctors. “Are you… setting up Daniel Buckley to die?”

Both doctors grimaced. “I’d call it more like triage.” Dr. Bachman said. “We’re trying to save Evan by distracting his parents with a different treatment for Daniel. It’s a grey area of ethics and normally we’d be uncomfortable doing so, but Daniel is dying. Bar an act of God, he won’t survive the month Will.”

“As doctors, we want to give every patient their best chance at survival, but not at the cost of someone else’s life. And it’s been at the cost of Evan’s life since his birth.” Dr. Diane took a deep breath. “We’ve given the Buckleys all the information we have about the status and progression of Daniel’s illness. We’ve given them our expert opinions. They have all the information they need to make an informed decision, and they’re pushing for Daniel to be involved in the trial program.”

“And if the Buckleys are going to make such a choice then there’s no reason we can’t use it to Evan’s advantage.”

“Right,” Will finally said. “It’s just so ugly.”

“The whole situation is,” Dr. Daine pointed out. “I’ve never come across such a twisted family dynamic in all my years of practicing medicine. And the clinic had a patient a couple of years ago with a young wife, an ex-wife he was still having sex with, and affairs with two different interns. And we were supposed to facilitate this patient keeping it all secret!”

“Sounds like a soap opera in the making.” Will couldn’t help but smile incredulously. “What happened?”

“Oh, it all blew up in the patient’s face.” Dr. Bachman admitted baldly. “And unfortunately, from the patient’s perspective, they survived to deal with the fallout.”

“That’s freaking hilarious.” Will ignored the case file of doom in his bag to lean back and be regaled with the ridiculousness of LA’s upper elite. “Tell me something else.”

“Well,” Dr. Daine drew out, “There was the one patient with the squirrels.”

Thursday, June 10, 1993

The water was cold; it did what it was supposed to, though. It wiped the cobwebs from her eyes and the stress from the corner of her mouth. Daniel had made it. The surgery was successful. The cancer was under control and it would stay that way.

It would stay that way.

Nothing was going to take her son away. Margaret would make sure of it.

She ignored the tremble in her hands as she grabbed for paper towels and left the bathroom. It was just exhaustion. Stress. Daniel’s health remained precarious, and it was beyond the pale that neither her family nor her husband’s could be trusted to support them.

Walking back to Daniel’s hospital room, Margaret was distracted by Maddie’s voice coming from a different room. Honestly, if Maddie was going to disrupt Daniel’s recovery by making a scene, then she was going to make the little girl regret it. They didn’t have time to deal with a tantrum.

Except, the sign on the door said Buckley. But it wasn’t Daniel’s room. Margaret blinked. It was the pediatric ward. There was literally no way any other Buckley-

She swallowed dryly. Right. One other Buckley would qualify for a room in pediatrics.

“Why was he crying?” Maddie’s childish voice asked. She was kneeling up on the visitor’s chair, leaning against the rails that kept a tiny body in a very large bed.

“Your brother’s very young.” The nurse said, “He doesn’t really know how to express himself. He can’t tell us he’s hurting or scared. So he just cries.”

“He’s scared?”

“I think he’s probably pretty scared. He woke up alone, in a strange place, with an ache that must feel like it hurts his whole body.”

“The doctor said that Evan wouldn’t be hurt,” Maddie protested.

“And he wasn’t, not really. If he were an adult, he’d be sore for a day or so and then he’d forget it happened! But Evan is a baby. It’s going to hurt him a lot longer.”

“But Daniel needed his help.”

“Yes.” The nurse hesitated, “even though the surgery is very safe for donors it was dangerous for Evan because he’s so small. Any younger and it might have been life threatening.”

“Then why didn’t they wait?”

“The doctors waited as long as they could. Your brother was just going to get sick again without Evan’s help.”

Margaret sniffed. The doctors would have been pleased to push off the surgery date six months or more. She hadn’t been willing to wait that long. Daniel was in the perfect position to receive a transplant. Evan’s ability to survive it hadn’t really been a consideration.

“I understand.”

“Do you?” The nurse frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Mommy loves Daniel more than us. That’s why they made Evan.”

“Oh, sweetheart, they might have made Evan to help Daniel, but they love you too.”

“They love us, but not as much as they love Daniel,” Maddie said calmly. “There’s more than enough room in Daniel’s room to fit Evan’s bed. But they told the doctor they needed separate rooms. And now they’ve left Evan crying for hours without even a hug.”

Margaret flushed as the nurse turned and pinned her in place, as though expecting Margaret to do something.

“Maddie.” The little girl didn’t turn. She stalked into the hospital room, furious that this brat was making a fool out of her. “Maddie, you’re done here!”

“Mom, stop!” She jerked, trying to get out of Margaret’s grip. “Someone has to stay with Evan!”

“Daniel needs you.”

“Evan needs me!”

Margaret spun on the ungrateful wretch, only to end up with a face full of pink polka-dotted scrubs. “What?”

Calmly, the nurse peeled Margaret’s fingers from Maddie’s arm. The skin is pink and irritated from her grip. “Maddie, can you go find your father?”

“Ms. Anna, I don’t know if Dad will follow me.” She rubbed her arm and stared at Margaret like she’d been the one doing something wrong when Maddie was the one wasting time and energy she should have been spending with her brother.

“That’s okay. Just try, alright?”

“Okay.” Maddie said slowly, leaving the room with multiple looks back.

Margaret straightened her back. “What right do you have interfering with how I treat my children?”

“Every right.” The nurse didn’t back down. “After all, I have an obligation to respond in situations where a child might get hurt.” She considered Margaret and the woman grit her teeth against the feeling of being judged. It wasn’t like this uppity nurse was the first. Even most of the oncologists they’d spoken to had been reserved in their manner after learning about Evan’s conception. “So you should keep in mind that abandoning a child in the hospital without a guardian is a great way to get all your children taken from you.”

The room chilled like the heat had broken, though the nurse didn’t seem uncomfortable at all. Margaret chafed her arms. The quick steps entering the room sounded like Philip’s.

“Margaret? Is something wrong?”

“I’ll let you discuss the issue with your husband.”

Margaret cleared her throat but waited to speak until the door had swung shut. “Would you mind sitting with Evan for the evening? Dr. Priori said that he’ll probably be discharged in the morning. We can have the nanny come and pick him and Maddie up then.”

Philip stared. “What on earth happened? Last we spoke, you wouldn’t even consider Evan leaving the hospital before Daniel. Just in case something went wrong.”

“Maddie made a scene,” was what Margaret finally settled on. “The nurse was polite, but really neither Maddie nor Evan should be left to their own devices in a hospital. It’ll be tough with you away for the evening, but better I think than trying to get Anita cleared for after-hours visitors.”

“If that’s what you want, I’ll support you.” Philip frowned at the bare setup of the hospital room Evan was staying in. Pleasant enough for the pediatric ward and their small patients, but nothing like the comfortable space they’d created for Daniel. “Perhaps you could send Maddie across the hall with my book?”

“Of course.” Margaret nodded, embracing her husband. The wonderful man just held her close. “Sorry. I guess I’m just more upset than I thought.”

“It’s fine, love.” Philip kissed her softly. “We’ll get through it. Together.”

“Together.”

Friday, February 20, 2009

Margaret Buckley straightened her back as she joined the group in the conference room off the lobby of the clinic. This was for Daniel. Failure was not an option. Surely she had overcome larger obstacles for him? She’d carried a parasite for nine months to make a perfect donor for her beloved son. Shaming a bunch of businessmen and researchers shouldn’t be hard in comparison.

“Mrs. Buckley,” Dr. Daine frowned as she introduced the board of directors and the specific members of the staff and volunteers of the clinic that served on the research leadership team. “We agreed to speak with you today because regardless of how it might seem, we do care about your son Daniel. We want him to get better. But our clinical trials right now are not structured for his degree of illness.”

“I understand that. I do,” Margaret protested, “but surely any option, any chance, should be made available to someone as sick as Daniel.”

“There’s a concern,” one of the other doctors spoke up, Smith, “that the particular kind of virus used in our study may stress your son’s health dangerously. The symptoms that our clinical study patients experience as a mild or moderate concern could be life threatening to your son.”

Margaret took a deep breath. “Everyone we’ve spoken to here has emphasized clearly and repeatedly that Daniel is dying. Dr. Daine and Dr. Bachman barely expect him to survive until the end of the month. Surely, if he is already dying, there is no harm in offering him the treatment?”

“When it could screw with all our data?” Dr. Smith had the audacity to complain.

“My son’s life is worth more than your data!”

“Your son’s life is not worth more than the thousands of lives our study could save,” he shot back, “if our data, methods, and standards are consistent and replicable!”

“Dr. Bachman,” the Hospital Director—a blond woman in a red dress—interrupted, “what are your thoughts?”

“Dr. Smith is not wrong,” he said after a long moment, “trying to explain the use of the treatment outside of our research parameters would be difficult after the fact. We would need to get some sort of waiver from both the Buckleys and the Institutional Review Board before giving him the treatment.”

“But do you think it will work?”

Dr. Bachman stared at Margaret. His dark brown eyes stared into her soul and seemed to scrape her raw from the inside out. Belatedly, Margaret realized that this was one of the doctors who had called DCFS for Evan. He was the one who had torn her son from his best chance of survival, and now he was doing it for the second time.

“No.” He finally said, turning back to his colleagues. “Daniel Buckley is suffering from cancer, but the real problem is the failure of his internal organs. Even if a miracle were to occur and he survives the treatment and the cancer, he needs a new lung, a new kidney… and a new heart. His body is shutting down.”

Hate stirred in her heart all over again for the doctors who couldn’t mind their own business and that selfish, cruel boy who took advantage of it.

“Don’t we have an obligation,” one of the administrators said quietly, “to help where we can, however we can? I understand that Daniel Buckley’s situation is not good, but can we really say that there’s no chance this treatment might help?”

The room was silent. Margaret resisted fidgeting as the tension heightened.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” the Hospital Director finally said. “We’re going to get an outside opinion. There’s a medical ethics professor we’ve consulted with before and we can ask him. If he agrees, we’ll take it before the IRB and see what their concerns are.” The woman frowned at Margaret and she didn’t understand why it suddenly felt like the world weighed down on her shoulders. This was a victory for Daniel. “It’s going to be a drawn-out process, Mrs. Buckley, but we’re going to try.”

Margaret nodded and swallowed around the lump in her throat. “I understand.”

The Director shook her head as the research team decamped from the conference room and filed out. “I really don’t think you do.”

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, a message from Philip on the screen: the lawyer is here.

Good. That was good. Hopefully, things were finally getting back on track.

Taking the garden path back to Daniel’s empty room—he was off for some testing in radiology—she entered just as Philip and the lawyer did.

“Margaret, this is Mark Higgins. He’s from the firm Fitzgerald’s office suggested.” Philip said as he directed the lawyer to the armchair across from the sofa in the antechamber. “Mr. Higgins, this is my wife Margaret.”

They exchanged the expected pleasantries, shook hands, and Margaret took her seat with a satisfied little sigh. Higgins looked like a good match for what they needed.

“Your office said that your son Evan was taken by DCFS?” Higgins leaned forward. “Have they given you any information about the removal? The usual procedure should result in several warnings before a child is taken. The State tries, but the foster care system isn’t always much better than the original situation.”

“Which clearly isn’t the situation with our home life,” Margaret objected as Philip handed over the paperwork they’d received from DCFS. “This whole situation has simply been blown out of proportion.”

Higgins hummed as he shuffled through the papers, reading one and then another, lifting one out of the stack before sifting to find another. “The removal cites ‘imminent danger’ to Evan. What can you tell me about that?”

“Evan is Daniel’s HLA match.” Philip said after a small hesitation. “He’s the only one in the family that matches Daniel.”

“We certainly wouldn’t have meant any harm to Evan, but Daniel is his brother.” She shook her head, fury turning her tongue to lead. “How can he just say ‘no’?”

“So Evan said ‘no’ to being his brother’s donor?” Higgins frowned. “Did you make any threatening comments? Gestures? Medical staff are obligatory reporters for anything concerning like that.”

Philip tightened his hand on hers. She didn’t want to say anything, had argued with him not to say anything, but he hadn’t been wrong. This was information that their lawyer needed to know. Better it be just between them instead of in the courtroom that he finds out.

“Evan is Daniel’s savior sibling,” Philip finally said. “He was planned, designed, and conceived to save Daniel. So, when Evan said no, there might have been some very emotional responses.”

“You were angry?”

“Of course we were,” Margaret huffed, standing from the couch to pace over to the window into Daniel’s hospital room. “Nine months of torture to bring that selfish brat into the world and he can’t even be bothered to do his job right.”

“Which would be what?”

“Daniel needs a lung.” Philip sighed heavily behind her, “Evan refused and the doctors sided with him.”

Higgins sighed this time, and Margaret turned to see him slump back into the armchair. “This is going to be complicated.”

“How complicated?”

“Moderately.” The lawyer rubbed at his temples. “There’s a law in California to protect the medical consent of minors over the age of twelve. It’s not designed for cases like Evan’s, but it’s the foundation that they’ll use to keep him away from you.”

“What do we do?” Philip asked as he wrapped his arms around her, a promise without words that they would do anything for Daniel. Just as they always had.

“We need to convince your case worker that you love Evan and that the entire situation really just got out of hand.” Higgins was packing away his paperwork. “It would be a good idea if you volunteered for a class on parenting. DCFS likes to see that. It may take a couple of months but-“

“Months!” Margaret spun, “Daniel doesn’t have months!”

Higgins stared at her and Margaret was reminded of the Hospital Director this afternoon convinced she didn’t know her own mind, the oncologist in Pittsburgh who’d stared at them like words didn’t work, the nurse in that hospital room after Daniel’s first transplant who’d looked at her like dirt.

She took a deep breath. “We need to get custody of Evan back as soon as possible. Without a lung transplant, the doctors don’t think Daniel will survive the new treatment.”

The skin between Higgins’ brows wrinkled, but he nodded slowly and promised, “I’ll get started right away.”

That was really all they could ask of him, Margaret figured.

***

“I know it’s not nice,” his mom was saying as she cleaned the scattered entertainment back into the bedside bag, “but the lawyer we hired said even at the earliest we wouldn’t get custody of Evan for almost a month. So when he comes in here, you need to do your best to convince him to apologize for whatever lies he told and request to be returned to us.”

“Is it even his decision?” Daniel frowned, thinking back to the interview he’d had with Abram. It had shocked him and the family that neither Abram, his boss, or the judge in charge of the case had buckled to the Buckley family. The idea that Evan might have enough influence over them to change the situation seemed… silly. “What if he likes the family he’s staying with more than us?”

“Higgins said that they often take minors’ opinions into account in cases like this. As the victim,” Margaret grimaced, “Evan has more power than we do. But he doesn’t have to stay.” She assured him. “If Evan likes this other family better, then once he’s recovered from the donation, he can return to them, if he’d like. It might even be better, but the state will not let him donate unless he’s in our custody.”

This didn’t seem as clear cut as his parents wanted it to be. It didn’t seem simple at all. “Why does he need to be in our custody?”

“The rules are just different, sweetheart.” Margaret kissed his forehead. “And here’s the case worker now!”

Will Abram entered the hospital room, frowning. “Daniel Buckley.”

“Yes, Mr. Abram.” Everything hinged on convincing this cold man that he needed his brother. Daniel certainly needed Evan, but out of affection? He wasn’t sure he could lie well enough for that.

“You requested to see your brother.”

“Everyone says I’m dying.” Daniel said, choking up a little. “I’d like to spend a little more time with the brother who’s given so much to me.”

The tears were real, so they couldn’t hurt the argument. Though a small part of Daniel could admit that they were much more from the pressure of getting this right than not seeing his brother.

“He’s agreed to come to the hospital.” Abram checked his phone. “He should be arriving soon. Which means you, Mr. And Mrs. Buckley, need to leave.”

“What?” Daniel swallowed dryly. “They can’t stay?”

“No.” Abram was firm on it. “Your parents have been deemed emotionally and physically abusive, and your brother does not need any of that in his life right now. Your parents leave, or Evan does.”

“Well,” Philip Buckley said, “We wouldn’t want to deprive Daniel of his brother. Margaret, how about we go get some food? Daniel’s already out of those organic fruit purees he loves. We can go get some. And perhaps lunch.”

“Right,” his mother finally agreed, with a kiss on Daniel’s cheek. “The cafeteria in this clinic wouldn’t know healthy and wholesome if it stood up and did a jig. We should stock up on supplies. For Daniel.”

Watching, Daniel saw both his parents leave, ignoring Evan on the way out, just as Evan ignored them on the way in. He stared at his brother. His brother stared back.

“Are you okay?” Daniel started the conversation. “They just kind of took you and vanished. Nobody said anything about how to contact you or where you were going. What if you’d been in trouble?”

“I was in trouble,” Evan said with a frown. “They saved me. And they didn’t tell you that stuff, Daniel, because you’re not supposed to know. It’s for my safety.”

“But we’re brothers!” Daniel objected, “I’d never hurt you!”

Evan frowned, “Are you- are you joking?”

“What?” Daniel couldn’t remember a single time he’d hurt his brother. Evan was his lifeline; he’d never intentionally put him in danger.

“How could you possibly know what I’ve been through and think you’ve never hurt me?” Evan took a deep breath. “You’re literally killing me, Daniel. And you don’t even care.”

“No. No, I’m not. I’m the one dying, Evan.” Daniel scowled, his temper rising. “I’m the one laying in bed needing treatment and still sick from chemo and radiation with my organs dying and your stupid selfish lies are going to get me killed. You need to go out there and tell the case worker that you lied! You need to return to Mom and Dad.”

Evan stared at Daniel, and it was the first time he noticed that his younger brother hadn’t bothered to sit down. Evan hadn’t even set down his backpack. He didn’t expect to be here long.

“I was a month shy of my fourteenth birthday when mom and dad cut me open on the operating table to steal my kidney. Mom and Dad sure as fuck didn’t care that I said no. Didn’t care that I didn’t want to donate.

“That’s not something you get over, Daniel. It’s not something I’m ever going to forget. It’s going to haunt me, whoever I live with, and the doctors I visit for the rest of my life.” Evan stared at Daniel like he was the freak complaining about a missing organ.

Daniel swallowed dryly. The kid had a second perfectly functioning one still in his body. Surely it didn’t matter much?

“The doctors here at the clinic made the complaint against Mom and Dad because they were concerned it could happen again. But this time with my lung. It wasn’t like anyone was asking me if I wanted to donate another organ.”

“But that’s what you do.” Daniel said, “It’s why they made you, Evan. To help me survive. I needed a kidney. You had two perfectly functional ones, so who cares if I got one?”

“And the same with my lung, right?” Evan asked, “I have two. Let’s not talk about how disabling only having one functioning lung is. I have a spare, so Daniel can have it.”

“Of course.” Daniel frowned. This was what family did for each other, wasn’t it?

“Right.” Evan nodded and then stared straight at him. The intensity of his still posture and bright eyes pinned Daniel in place. “What if you needed a heart, Daniel?”

“What?”

“You’re dying. The stress of chemo and radiation are killing cells all over your body. It makes sense that one day soon it might hit your heart.” Evan said it calmly, like he wasn’t talking about a nightmare worthy of a horror showing. “What are you going to do? What are Mom and Dad going to do if you need a heart and the donation registry denies you because of the state of your cancer? Just like they would deny you now for a new lung. Just like they probably would have denied you three years ago for a new kidney. What’s going to happen to me if you need a heart?”

Daniel stared at his brother.

Evan finally walked closer and leaned in so that they were barely inches apart.

“Are you going to ask for my heart, Daniel? Are you going to expect me to lie down and die so that you can live another three months? Another year?” Evan’s eyes were so bright. “Will Mom drug me again? Will Dad carry me into the operating room? Will they kill me first? Or will they cut me open and just let the cavity fill with blood?”

“Get out.” Daniel rasped, voice no louder than a breath. “Get out! Get out! get out!”

Tears blurred his vision, his breath hitched in his lungs, and the vitals monitor stuttered and blared an alarm that had nurses flooding the room as Evan stepped back. Just for a moment before the sedative kicked in, Daniel could hear his brother’s near supernaturally calm voice address the waiting social worker.

“I’m done here.”

***

“It’s bad news.” Dr. Bachman said, exiting the hospital room proper for Daniel’s suite. “We’ll need to do some testing, but my guess is that a combination of stress and advancing cancer in his lungs did something like short-circuited his system. Everything’s working fine now and he’s hooked up to some oxygen. I’ve scheduled a nebulizer treatment in a couple of hours. Give his system a chance to rest before we pump it full of steroids again. But we’re going to need to do some extensive testing in the morning.”

“Was it his heart or his lungs?” Philip asked with a frown. “I couldn’t tell from the monitor.”

“It was actually both. His heart first, and then his lungs,” Dr. Bachman said. “His emotional distress caused a heart flutter and while it did settle without aid, it caused his lungs to spasm and mimic an asthma attack. We’ve got him on a mild sedative, oxygen, and there will be a steroid breathing treatment in a couple of hours.”

“No one’s mentioned his heart before,” Margaret pointed out. “Is it a new development?”

Dr. Bachman frowned and considered Daniel’s digital file. “No, it’s in here. But the heart isn’t really the problem. There isn’t anything else wrong with Daniel’s heart that his whole body isn’t suffering. He’s simply been inundated with so much toxic material that his whole body is failing.”

Margaret gasped and Philip sat down abruptly.

“That’s probably how it was phrased previously,” Dr. Bachman frowned at the two parents. “Dr. Daine and I told you about this when you first arrived. Daniel is extremely ill. He’s unlikely to survive the end of the month.”

Philip trembled against her arm. “You said you were working to bring Daniel into your special project.”

“We are.” Dr. Bachman nodded, “But even regularly, these processes take time and Daniel’s case is not regular at all. He’s well outside the established parameters for our trial. The paperwork will most likely go through because the treatment is being used as a life-saving measure, but it still has to be approved or the entire project could be shut down. Daniel’s treatment included.”

Margaret pressed a hand to her husband’s shoulder to stay his objection and offer the Doctor a wobbly smile. “We understand, Doctor. Thank you for the explanation. We’d- we’d like to be alone now.”

“Of course,” Dr. Bachman agreed. “Eli takes over for Bridger in an hour, so she’ll be in with the nebulizer treatment later this evening.”

Margaret’s smile stiffened at the memory of the nurse with the unpronounceable name, but it held until the door closed and they were finally alone.

She slipped just to the door of Daniel’s room. But he was asleep and his vitals were back within normal ranges.

“Margaret, what are we going to do? That’s our baby boy.” Philip looked miserable, so she padded over to lay a kiss on his crown.

“And it’s Evan’s fault,” Margaret hissed after a moment of thought. “Daniel was perfectly fine when we left, but when we got back, he was in enough emotional distress he’d been sedated!”

“So we’ll keep them apart,” Philip shrugged. “It won’t be hard. The case worker didn’t even like bringing Evan by this time, anyway.”

“But keeping them apart won’t help us get Evan’s custody back.” Margaret frowned, “this whole situation won’t help that either.”

“Margaret,” Philip said quietly, “we’re not going to get Evan back in enough time. Not if the prognosis is as bad as Dr. Bachman said.”

“No. Not legally.”

Philip’s brows shot up. “You want to bribe the judge? Or the head of DCFS?”

Margaret shook her head, “you’re going to arrange for Evan’s kidnapping. Talk to Meyers. Have him arrange something. Once Evan is secure, we’ll move him out of the country. Some place that doesn’t ask too many questions.”

“We’ll have to stay at least a few days.” Philip pointed out, “Play the devastated parents. It’ll take that long at least to arrange for Daniel’s transport.”

“Hmm,” Margaret thought, “We should probably try suing the city too. For letting our son get kidnapped.”

“Plots within plots,” Philip said lightly, moving her gently from his knee to the sofa. “Alright then, love, I should get everything started.”

“Just so.” Margaret smiled as Philip walked to the patio Daniel’s suite opened to. She settled herself in a corner with her phone. The perfect place to watch over Daniel and hear Philip’s conversation.

“What?” was the answer to the phone call, but Meyers wasn’t hired for his manners.

“It’s Buckley.” Philip said, “I need you to arrange something for me.”

“Sure. Sure. Another bribe?”

“Something more delicate.” Philip stared out at the gardens, but Margaret could hear the stress in her husband’s voice. “Evan was taken from our custody earlier in the week. We don’t know where he’s staying, but we will not tolerate this any longer. We need Evan in your possession stashed away somewhere with a medical team capable of performing a lung transplant without asking any questions before the end of the month. Somewhere outside the United States would be preferred.”

“There’s a clinic in the Philippines.” Meyers said after a moment. “I’ve looked into them and they specialize in discrete procedures for private clients. They’d be the best option.”

“We’ll need appropriate transportation as well. Daniel’s condition is not getting any better.”

“The viral treatment isn’t working?”

Margaret didn’t bother wondering how the man knew that. It was better that they didn’t have to explain.

“He hasn’t received it yet.” Philip sighed, “the doctors here didn’t even want to take his case. And they’ve made a large mess of things, involving DCFS the way they have.”

“I’ll look into progressive cancer centers outside the US as well.” Meyers finally said. “Non-radiation or chemotherapy options.”

“Good. Good. When can we expect to hear about Evan’s location?”

Margaret let out the breath that had stuck in his throat since Dr. Bachman had explained the problem with Daniel’s heart.

“By the end of the week.” Meyers said, “it shouldn’t take long to arrange at all.”

Monday, February 23, 2009

“Are you sure you can go by yourself?” Michael asked. He’d dropped Evan off at the bus stop just down the street from his office building. From here, it was only going to be a couple of stops before the library.

“Yeah. I’m okay.” Hershey hadn’t really had public transport, just a combined bus and train station in the middle of town they passed through from Philadelphia to the other end of the state. Pittsburgh had a pretty great one, though, and Evan had regularly used it to escape his family.

He’d thought on and off about using it to escape them permanently, but Evan had never known where he would go. Back to Maddie? There was no guarantee she’d still be there. No guarantee that she’d let him stay. And Evan was petrified, still, of being returned to his parents.

“If anything happens, you can always call Athena or I.” Michael bit his lip, “I’ll leave the ringer on.”

“It’s okay, Michael.” Evan smiled. “I’m just going to the library.”

A car honked behind them and Michael sighed, “LA traffic, never a peaceful moment. Okay. Okay. I’m going, but try to be home by five.”

“Sure.” Evan nodded, “Bye, Michael.

Thankfully, the mild anxiety that he’d miss the bus because of Michael’s fretting turned out to be for nothing. The bus was a couple minutes late; LA traffic.

An older teen in jeans and a ratty t-shirt jogged up to the stop, nudging in against the other commuters, and shot Evan a wicked sort of smile. “Guess I’m not as late as I thought.”

Evan flushed and averted his eyes. He was beautiful, and Evan didn’t really know what to do with that. “LA traffic. I heard one lady say that the bus is always late.”

“Makes sense. Just not what I’m used to.” The young man laughed. “What am I saying? El Paso isn’t large enough for anything but a school bus as far as public transport is concerned.” He offered Evan his hand. “I’m Eddie.”

“Evan.” He said after a pause, awkwardly taking Eddie’s larger hand in his, the calluses on his hand tugging just a bit on Evan’s skin. “I’m not from around here either.”

The bus arrived before Eddie could reply and in the crush of piling into the bus, Eddie and Evan ended up squished right next to each other. He worried that the man would attempt to continue the conversation. It’d be awkward to ignore him, but Evan was honestly struggling to keep his breathing even. He didn’t know that he’d ever been in the same space as so many people.

Touch hadn’t meant anything good since Maddie had left. Athena had tried to hug him earlier and Evan had flinched. And now, all these people were pressing in and Evan had forgotten how tight public buses could get. It was getting a little hard to breathe.

Evan clenched his hand tight around the strap of his backpack. His attention flickered between the passengers on the bus: a man wearing a clown nose with a frown, a teen his age with purple hair, a blonde woman with an obnoxiously large red purse; and the view of the city outside. The press of cars in traffic felt claustrophobic, the flashing lights of a theater were dizzying, the volume of sounds — A man yelling, a baby crying, a phone ringing, cars honking — it was all too much.

A nudge broke Evan from the spiral of his thoughts—Eddie was watching him with a frown. “You okay?”

“Regretting my life choices,” Evan offered a weak smile. “You know, just any day ending in ‘y’.”

“I get that,” Eddie laughed. The bus had stopped and in the shuffle he snagged them two seats. Evan took the one by the window. “I’m in town for a family reunion, and I kind of ran away.”

“My relationship with my family isn’t so good either.” Evan bit his lip. “My foster family seems great, though. Just really nice.”

“I’m glad you landed somewhere good,” the other offered. “Your stop coming up?”

“Yeah.” Evan peeked at the marquee at the front of the bus. “My stop is the next one.”

“Mine was the last one.” Eddie admitted.

Evan gaped, “you could’ve gotten off!”

“I’ll get off at the next one with you.” Eddie shrugged. “Jogging back a couple of blocks won’t kill me. You looked like you needed a friend.”

Evan ducked his head, blushing. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

They sat in a comfortable kind of quiet. The bus was noisy, and the city was loud, but between Evan and Eddie, as they waited for the next stop, things were quiet. Safe.

Evan couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt safe.

The marquee flashed, and Evan nudged his friend. “This is it.”

Getting free of the bus was a struggle, people were pressed in tightly trying to make it to their stop without waiting for the next bus and Evan didn’t know how he’d have made it off if Eddie hadn’t taken his hand and tugged him through.

He stumbled free of the crush and the last step off the bus with a helpless laugh. “That was nuts.”

“Not sure I want to try that getting home,” Eddie agreed. His wide smile lighting up his face. “Oh, God. I’ll have to call my dad. That’s almost worth trying the bus again.”

Evan laughed, “your parents that bad?”

“The lectures are insane.” Eddie shook his head. “They don’t like that I signed up for the Army. If they’d had their choice I’d live at home, get a degree in business, and work for my dad. Eventually, my mom would pick my wife and I’d have a kid, maybe two.”

“That…” Evan wrinkled his nose, “it doesn’t sound great.”

“I want anything but that.” Eddie blew a heavy sigh. “I love them, but I don’t want that life.”

“Then it’s good that you found a way out.” Evan bit his lip. “I’m still looking for mine.”

Eddie frowned. “You’re a foster, though? I mean, I’ve never heard anything great about foster care, but it got you out of your parents’ house, right?”

Evan shrugged. “I don’t trust it. My parents are powerful. If they want me back, they’ll find a way.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Eddie admitted.

“It just is what it is.” Evan jerked a thumb in the direction of the library. “That’s me. I’ve got some tests to study for. Where were you headed?”

“There’s supposed to be a decent theater a couple blocks back,” Eddie pointed in the opposite direction. “They’re putting on a production of Urinetown, and that’s always fun.”

“Well, good.” Evan shrugged his bag back on his shoulders. “I hope you enjoy it. Um, see you around?”

“Yeah,” Eddie frowned, “see you around.”

Then Evan turned, and reminding himself that he’d known Eddie for like a minute and there was no reason to start crying, he refused to turn and watch Eddie walk away.

With all his attention still tied up in his angst, Evan almost didn’t realize when he practically walked into a stranger. “Oh! Sorry.”

“No. No. My fault,” the man laughed. He gestured to the tourist map in his hand. “I was just going to ask you; can you tell me where we are? My friend and I,” he pointed to the incredibly unfriendly looking statue approaching at a fast walk. “We’re looking for the Bearded Lady’s Mystic Museum. Do you know where it is?”

“Not really.” Evan frowned. There was something weird about these two. “Sorry, but can’t you Google it?”

“Forgot to charge our cell phones.” The stranger leaned forward awkwardly, and Evan wobbled a bit as he stepped back. The curb was right behind him. “This big lug spent most of the morning filming on our whale watching cruise. His phone was dead before we reached shore!”

“That sucks, man.” Evan looked back and Eddie, thank God, hadn’t moved much further than he had. There was just something off about these two. Eddie was going to miss his show at this point, but Evan kind of wished he could read minds and come closer. “I’ve never heard of the Bearded Lady’s Mystic Museum, though.”

It was the wrong time of year for whale watching. Wrong fucking harbor, too.

“Yeah.” The guy sighed. His companion had moved in pretty close now. “We just thought—“

Tires squealed on the road, horns blared and the stranger shoved Evan off the side of the road as hands reached out from the vehicle that’d pulled illegally up to the curb.

Evan shouted. He could hear other people shout and someone screamed. Eddie’s voice could just be heard over the din as Evan thrashed, shouting his name.

“Evan!”

“Get in the fucking car, you freak!”

Evan wrestled off his backpack, which someone from inside the car was holding onto, and as one of his assailants picked up a foot to shove in the vehicle, he kicked out. Hitting something squishy.

“Oomph.” The attacker at the front curled over whatever important bits Evan had hit as the kidnapper in the sedan shouted to the driver.

“GO!”

The door wasn’t shut. Evan was still struggling. The man behind him was cursing and Evan’s legs were half out the door. He was going to be black and blue at the end of the day.

Evan had just wriggled out of the man’s grip. The shift and jolt of the car taking the turn too fast knocked Evan into the kidnapper and the man into the other door.

His feet were just getting traction as he adjusted his body, eying the still cracked passenger door. Wondering if he’d survive falling out of a speeding vehicle into LA traffic when the car came to a crashing stop in the middle of the road.

Evan slammed left side first into the front passenger seat, the kidnapper behind him hit the back window with a sickening crack, and the driver groaned.

He noticed the sirens first as he got his bearings about him. His jaw and teeth throbbed from hitting the edge of the seat. His entire left arm pulsed with pain where it had met the hard plastic coating of the front passenger seat and his hip ached from where it had slammed into the center console.

The lights flashed as his vision swam and the man in uniform that opened the side door had to repeat what he said several times before Evan would let him help him from the car.

Evan was dazed enough even outside that it took him a minute to realize that the kidnappers had driven straight into a police car blocking traffic for an entirely different accident. Karma.

He wobbled a little as he leaned against the police officer. He tugged on the uniform sleeve. The officer frowned at him.

“My foster mom is Officer Athena Grant.” Evan said carefully; he wasn’t feeling very well. “They tried to kidnap me.”

And around the corner, like the perfect witness to the fucked up nature of the day, Eddie sprinted. “Evan!”

***

Evan sat half in Eddie’s lap as he held the ice pack against Evan’s head. He wasn’t even ashamed. Just sick to his stomach and desperately trying not to cry.

“Apply 20-30 minutes and then off for half an hour. If you feel sick, vomit. Trying not to will just make you feel worse.” The paramedic—a lovely lady a little older than Eddie named Hen—said as she sat back on the curb. “And I know you said no, but we’d still like to get you to the hospital. Concussions are nasty things.”

“Brain injuries in general are sketchy as hell,” Eddie said as he tugged Evan closer. “Symptoms can appear mild at first and then worsen. And without an MRI to see how bad the damage is, Evan, you could easily fall asleep and not wake up.”

“Which would suck,” Hen said baldly, jerking a thumb at the would-be kidnappers handcuffed on the curb. “Wouldn’t want them to get the last word, would you?”

Evan squinted at Hen. His vision was swimming and his head was pounding. “That’s manipulative.”

Hen grinned. “I don’t mind if it keeps you alive.”

He considered the situation as well as his throbbing body would let him. “I don’t like hospitals.”

“Evan,” Eddie chuckled, “even the people who work in hospitals usually hate them.”

Hen’s brows rose. “You have a lot of experience with hospitals?”

Eddie shrugged. “Just finished the advanced coursework for medic certification at Fort Bliss. I’m pretty sure that the only people who hate hospitals more than patients are the nurses and doctors.”

Hen grinned, “so everyone then.”

“Sounds about right.”

“I want to wait for Athena,” Evan finally said. “Don’t want to end up on the table again.”

Hen frowned, “what do you mean ‘end up on the table, Evan?”

And he was going to answer. He was. But being woozy made him think about the drugs, and the pounding pain in most of his body reminded him of the ache in his abdomen that never really went away. And just the memory had him going green and leaning over to vomit without more than a low groan.

Which was just about the time Athena Grant’s cop car pulled up behind the secondary accident. Hen offered him some water to rinse with, and Eddie helped brace him high across his chest, where the bruises didn’t hurt quite as much.

“Evan,” Athena crouched next to him, ignoring the dirt, debris, and sick on the pavement. “Are you alright?”

“You won’t let them cut me open, right ‘thena?” Evan couldn’t fight back the tears anymore. “I don’t want to be cut open again. You promised, right? You can’t break a promise.”

“I did promise, baby.” Athena took him from Eddie’s arms, though they stayed close by. “And I’ll promise again. No one is going to cut you open unless you want them to.”

“They want to take me to the hospital,” Evan whined. “I don’t like hospitals.”

“I know, baby.” Athena smoothed a hand through his hair and left a gentle kiss on his forehead. “But it’s for the best. I’ll be right beside you, and I’ll make sure that no one cuts you open unless it’s for your best health.”

“Not Daniel’s?” Evan asked quietly after a moment.

“Just yours.”

“Okay. I guess.”

Hen helped Evan to the ambulance while Athena tossed her keys to Whittle.

“Diaz, right?” Athena said after a moment of watching the young man frown after her foster son. “Officer Whittle said you were pivotal in catching the kidnappers. That was brave.”

“Stupid.” Diaz snorted, turning his attention to her finally. “Right? That’s what bravery is. Just stupid by another name. But that’s what got me in the Army to begin with.”

He paused. “I met Evan on the bus; he was panicking. I helped him stay grounded until we could get off. Officer Whittle took my statement, but I don’t know how much you’ll hear of that.”

If she really wanted, Athena could hear a lot about it. But a statement directly from a witness is always better than someone else’s notes. “I can listen until my boy needs me.”

Eddie just nodded. “I think what bothers me most about the attack is how they narrowed right in on Evan. There was a little girl who almost walked into the street because her mother wasn’t paying attention. A wealthy businessman dead on his feet waiting for a taxi. A young woman, probably high on something and teetering on her heels. But they went straight for Evan.”

Well, hell. The kid was right. That didn’t sound good at all. “That sounds… arranged.”

“Yeah.” Eddie offered her a gas station receipt with a name and a phone number. “If you could tell Evan I’d appreciate hearing from him when he feels better, that would be great.”

“I’ll definitely give him the message.”

“Thanks,” Diaz hesitated, turned and looked back. “That thing Evan was worried about? Being cut open. You’re taking care of that too, right?”

Athena nodded firmly. “He’s not getting hurt on my watch.”

The young man nodded back, then grinned. It was a boyish smile with mischief in the corners and it reminded Athena sharply of little boys playing pranks.

“I’m sure your BAMF enough for an entire platoon of Army grunts, but I’d be happy to carry your bags if you ever need an accomplice with that mission.”

Athena threw back her head and cackled, “I’ve got alibis and accomplices all I need. But if it ever comes up, I’d probably need a babysitter.”

Eddie grinned, stuffed his hands in his jeans and walked backwards from the scene. “I can do that too.”

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

When Daniel felt up to it—and he wasn’t too lethargic to move, or losing everything he ate by vomiting or having diarrhea—he liked to enjoy the gardens at the clinic. He’d been to a lot of hospitals over the years and none of them had been as dedicated to green space as this one. Well, for a certain value of green.

There was a pair out ahead of him, mostly only splotches of color in the beige and brown and odd green-not-green of the garden. Daniel was careful not to roll too far from his hospital door, though. His parents were already under enough stress. So he didn’t think he’d be interrupting the discussion.

There were still a variety of plants to see and touch nearby. Cacti with sharp spines and beautiful flowers, shrubs both low growing and tall, and a lot of shallow fountains.

“You have to be careful. The water attracts a lot of creepy-crawlies.”

Beautiful, was Daniel’s first thought. The bright purple and blue he’d noticed from afar were a turban and wig his new companion wore. She was the same stick thin he was, dark bags under her eyes from the prolonged stay at the clinic. No hospital was conducive to good sleep.

Her dark eyes popped against the bright colors of her accessories, and all Daniel could think was that she was beautiful. He flushed.

“What- ah, what kinds of creepy-crawlies?” He nearly rolled his eyes. His mother would have an unholy fit if she heard him use those words. Too plebeian for her tastes.

The young woman shrugged, “the local kinds. Mice, rats, sometimes bats, but the Center doesn’t really have the right set up for them. Mostly birds from the coast, but Jeremy from Ward A said that one of the nurses had to save him from a snake once!”

Daniel smiled at her slightly crazy laugh. “All the more reason to stay inside, right?”

“Oh, no!” She shook her head. “I’ve got to soak up as many life experiences as I can get. I don’t have much time left.”

The smile on Daniel’s face got a little fixed. She was talking about death. Her death as opposed to Daniel’s, but it was still uncomfortably close to the line his parents had drawn when he was younger and never bothered changing.

Daniel wasn’t going to die, they weren’t going to let him.

“You’re not going to die,” Daniel said suddenly. “None of us are. The clinic has a special treatment. My parents told me. That’s why we moved to California.”

“The clinic’s good, but not that good.” She laughed again and this time Daniel found it a little grating. “Everyone dies eventually. Perhaps my time will come early, but who’s to say? Not me. If God wants to take me, then he certainly can.”

“I don’t believe in God.”

She laughed again, and seriously, did she ever stop? She wasn’t so pretty now that he knew she brayed like a donkey.

“That’s okay. God believes in you.”

He hesitated. Normally, Daniel avoided these conversations, but his parents weren’t here to get upset. “Was that who that man you were talking to was? A priest of some kind?”

The quirk of her lips seemed sad, and the light in her eyes dimmed. “You saw that, huh?”

“You’re ah, quite vibrant, against a backdrop like this.” Daniel said with a wave of his hand to the muted earth tones and desert colors of the garden surrounding them.

“He’s not a priest,” was her abrupt response. “He’s just a visitor. He comes, and he counsels people on their deaths. He’s like a consultant or something.” She frowned. “I don’t think he even gave me his name.”

Oh, his mother would have a fit if Daniel was on some sort of list for that.

“Did it help?” Daniel said, to his own surprise. “I just- I don’t know if talking about it would help.”

“I think it does.” She sighed, “death is scary. It’s the unknown. It’s leaving my family behind, not knowing if they’ll be happy after I’m gone. Talking to someone about that, someone who isn’t already mourning my loss, it helps.”

The crunch of gravel interrupted them as two nurses approached. “Alright, you two, time to head inside.”

Daniel frowned, “are we on some kind of time limit?”

“I have chemo.” His companion shrugged, “but if you want, we could meet up in the B lounge tomorrow? That’s the room with the monopoly board.” She brayed again and Daniel resisted the urge to grimace. “I love beating people at monopoly.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever played,” Daniel admitted. He had a vague recollection that it was something about money and property, and a little man in a top hat. But nothing else.

“Then we definitely have to do it! I promise I’ll even go easy on you!”

She was wheeled away, back towards her own hospital room as Bridger pushed him back down the path to his room.

“As for you,” the nurse said, “forecast is calling for rain.”

“In LA?” Daniel squinted up at the nurse. “Are you teasing me?”

“Nope,” Bridger grinned. “It’s expected to be a bad one.”

He was right about it, too. It started just moments after they made it inside, and what started as the plop-plop-plop of a handful of raindrops turned into a deluge of rain, heavy and nasty and, as Daniel watched fascinated, flooding.

The ground in the garden didn’t absorb the rain like it would in Pennsylvania. Instead, it pooled and flooded the walkways, the garden paths, and in between the gravel stones. It would have looked much more like a floating garden, if the water had stayed there instead of running downhill toward the sea.

It was still raining, lightly this time, when Daniel woke up the next morning. The light coming in the windows was gray and the sounds of the hospital were muted, but a warm and soft feeling had curled up in Daniel’s chest during the night and to him, it was a good day. Regardless of what the weather brought.

Eli was moving quietly around the machines, checking numbers, as Daniel woke up.

“Morning, Eli.”

“Good Morning, Daniel.” Eli’s smile was soft, like always, but there was a shadow in her eyes that Daniel couldn’t help but question. Had it been there before and he’d never noticed? Or was it more recent?

His smile faded, “did- did something happen?”

Eli sighed and settled in the uncomfortable plastic visitor’s chair next to his bed. “Bridger left a note for me this morning. He said you’d made plans with Victory to play monopoly in the B Lounge today?”

A stone sank to the pit of Daniel’s stomach, “blue wig, purple turban, brown eyes?”

Loni’s smile was sad, “that was Victory.”

“Was?” Daniel croaked, “she’s- she’s dead?”

“Yeah, she went in her sleep during the night.”

Daniel’s chest hurt like someone had caved it in. That soft warm glow he’d woken up with had turned chilled and clinging. “Hey Eli, can you tell my parents I’d like to have a quiet day?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart. I’ll let them know.”

Victory’s words rang through his head as he slipped back beneath the covers and pulled his pillow over his head. Everyone dies eventually.

***

Part Three: Wednesday, February 25, 2009

The laughter in the locker room had a hysterical edge to it, but the shift had been rough and the consequences included over-exhausted nurses trading gossip.

“Anyone have any plans?”

“I’ve got a hot date with my bed and a bottle of wine,” one woman joked, “but Maddie might.”

“What are you talking about, Natasha?” Maddie Buckley frowned, as she shrugged on her jacket.

“Don’t play. I heard Dr. Kendell asked you out, Maddie.”

She groaned, “he did. And I turned him down.”

“Good for you.” Another nurse cheered, “he’s a pig. I wouldn’t date him if someone paid me.”

“What are you talking about?” Natasha laughed, “Dr. Kendell is handsome and loaded. I bet he’d be the kind that takes his girl out to fancy restaurants. Wouldn’t ever leave you with the check.”

“Sure, but he’d never call you by your name, either.” Maddie scoffed, “I haven’t worked with him a single shift where he’s called me by my name.”

“Doll.” The other nurse rolled her eyes, “sweetheart, sweetcheeks, honey, darling, love. Like we’re interchangeable.”

“I think he likes the chase more than the relationship.” Maddie said after a moment. “And that’s honestly not the kind of partner I want in my life.”

“I agree.”

“Of course you do, Doris.” Natasha rolled her eyes.

“You don’t have to agree.” Doris said flatly, “But there’s something about that man that reminds me of the couples you see in the ER. ‘Oh, nurse, you don’t have to worry. My wife’s just so clumsy.’”

“You’re right.” Maddie grabbed her purse and spun the lock on her locker. “He’s very controlling and… jealous, maybe? Director Horton had to change Dr. Wallace’s shifts. Kendell kept getting into his business.”

Natasha frowned. “He doesn’t act like that with Dr. Morris.”

“Dr. Morris is a woman.” Maddie pointed out. “She’s also got about 30 years of emergency room experience on him. The one and only time he tried to second guess her, she stripped him down one side and up the other.”

“Director Horton made him take a sensitivity seminar,” Doris offered.

“Right. Regardless, he’s not a man I want to become involved with.” Maddie checked the time. She was running a little late for the bus. “Doris, you live past the train station, right? Do you mind dropping me off?”

“Not at all, Maddie.”

“How’s the work with the women’s shelter?” Doris asked as they walked out to the parking deck.

“It’s good. You were right to suggest it.” Maddie shifted the strap of her purse. “It’s not exactly what I was looking for, but the one time I spoke with the Department of Child and Family Services, they said the odds of getting approved for fostering with the wonky shifts I work and without a partner wasn’t great.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. But don’t give up on it. Just because they said no now, doesn’t mean that it won’t change in the future. Or,” Doris stopped to turn Maddie, “that your circumstances might not change.”

“Right.” Maddie nodded. Less certain than her friend. “Things change.”

Doris smiled, letting Maddie into the vehicle. “But it’s good work for now.”

“Yeah.” Maddie took a deep breath. “I can’t really complain about that. Volunteering with the shelter is never a bad thing. Sometimes it’s just as hard as a shift in the ER or Pediatrics, but it’s so fulfilling. Knowing that I’m helping these women get back on their feet. Sometimes literally.”

“I’m glad, Maddie.” Doris hesitated. “Any news from your brothers?”

“No.” Maddie whispered. “I got a note from my mom about a month ago. Just a page of fancy stationery talking about how optimistic they are about this round of treatments. Still no return address. I have nightmares that I’ll find them only for all the letters over the last couple of years to be lies. That Daniel and Evan are dead and they never told me.”

“You can’t think that way.” Doris grabbed Maddie by the shoulder and pulled her into an awkward hug over the center console. “You have to think positive.”

“How?”

“You just need to believe it.” Doris shook her head. “If you let that little voice of doubt convince you that your brothers are dead, then what’s keeping you from joining them?”

Maddie blinked back tears as the words stabbed her in the heart.

“I’m not saying you would,” Doris said as she pulled up to the train station, “but it’s easy to feel like the dark is caving in on you when you forget to flip on the light.”

It was late enough that the train was empty without being so late it was full of drunks. It gave her time to think. To consider what Doris said.

Flip on the light. Maddie had to keep the light on, not just for her brothers who were likely being smothered under their parents’ love, but for herself, too. It wasn’t healthy to live in the dark.

It’d been three years since she’d last seen her brothers. Plenty of time for circumstances to change. Daniel could have succumbed to cancer. Evan could have run away. Or maybe Daniel was healing, healthier than ever, and that desperate boy with a wounded spirit Maddie had seen on her last trip home had done something irrevocable.

You can’t save the dead. If Evan or Daniel, or both, were dead, then Maddie couldn’t change it, just honor their memory.

But could Maddie admit she’d given up before even starting?

She started as the announcement for her stop blared through the speakers. She blinked back tears and headed out of the empty train station. Though she didn’t know if she cried in sorrow for her brother, or in fury at herself.

She’d given up. The light had gone out, and she hadn’t even noticed.

Putting one step in front of the other. Maddie barely spared a thought for the walk up to her building, for the security code that granted her entry, for the key she slid into her lock. Not even to the mostly barren apartment she called home drew her out of her thoughts.

Maddie sat on her bed. She’d given up. She didn’t want to admit it, but it felt like she’d given up before she’d ever started.

She loved her brothers. Nothing said she couldn’t start again. It would be easy to hide from the guilt and shame of giving up, but Maddie decided even as she fell asleep that she wouldn’t hide from it. She was going to use it to make herself a better sister.

Maddie was going to find her brothers. Even if the dark was right and all that was left were their graves. She was going to find them, because she needed to know.

Friday, December 15, 2006

The house was dark when Maddie got to the house in Hershey. Her key didn’t fit in the lock. The code had been changed in the security system. The windows were dark.

The house was empty.

A breath hitched in her throat. They’d left. She’d only been gone three days. She’d been upset driving back to school, and had cried herself to sleep.

Trembling fingers flipped the screen up on her phone and dialed a number she knew by heart. “Please, please, please pick up.”

“This is Margaret Buckley-“

“Mom!”

“-I can’t come to the phone right now, but if you leave a message with your name and number, I promise to get back to you within three days.”

Maddie hung up. She’d heard enough of her mother’s voicemail message over the years. There were years when Daniel was sick and Maddie had been in school that leaving a message with her office had been the only way she communicated with her mother.

She dialed a second number and waited to see if this one would get an answer.

“Buckley Corporate Offices, this Diana speaking.”

“Diana,” Maddie’s voice broke, “it’s Maddie Buckley.”

“Oh.” The assistant’s voice audibly dropped. “Um, hi Maddie. How are you?”

“They’re gone.” Maddie choked, “the house is empty. What- what happened?”

There had to be a reason. There had to be some sort of explanation that wouldn’t tear out her heart.

“I’m- I’m sorry Maddie, but Mr. And Mrs. Buckley decided to move.” There was the sound of a door shutting and the hiss of the phone line cleared a little. So Maddie couldn’t blame a poor connection for missing what Diana said next. “Mrs. Buckley left strict directions that you- you weren’t to be told where they were going.”

Sitting at the stoop of the empty house, Maddie didn’t bother wiping away her tears. “Did they- did they say why?”

“Not directly,” Diana said, “but I overheard her complaining to Mr. Buckley yesterday that they couldn’t afford to let you interfere in Daniel’s treatment.”

“Daniel?” Maddie sniffled. “I just wanted them to send Evan to a councilor!”

“But Maddie, what if the councilor thought Evan’s problem was being on tap for Daniel’s health?”

And that was it, wasn’t it? It wasn’t that her parents hated her or wanted Evan to suffer; they just loved Daniel more. Even one day without Evan capable of donating for Daniel was too much of a risk.

Maddie wiped at her eyes, certain that her mascara was running horribly. “Did they say anything about keeping in touch?”

“Mrs. Buckley agreed to send you a letter,” Diana said, helplessly. “But I really don’t know much more, Maddie. I’m sorry.”

She breathed deeply, pulling herself together one breath at a time. “It’s okay, Diana. Sorry for bothering you.”

“I hope it works out, Maddie.”

She kept the phone in her hand even as the dial tone buzzed against her face. Maddie had basically grown up alone. There had been staff, the coworkers of her parents, and the bratty children of those coworkers. There had been Daniel, soaking up all of their parents’ attention, and Evan later, who needed attention no one else had the time to give him. But even then, Maddie had spent a lot of time on her own.

Even when she’d moved into an apartment closer to campus, the time alone in her small space had been a relief. A break from pretending to be someone she wasn’t, someone happier than she actually was.

Maddie had spent a lot of her life alone, but she’d never really felt lonely until this moment sitting on the front porch of her parent’s palatial property in Hershey. Her parents had left her behind, and Maddie had left Evan behind.

She sighed, considering the next number Maddie had to call. Hopefully, he would pick up. “Uncle Jasper? I need your help.”

The tea offered was sweet and Maddie didn’t think she’d ever had sweet tea before, but she sipped it idly, regardless as her uncle and his lawyer went over the situation.

“It’s complicated,” Hailey Winsome frowned. “If we wanted to go through the bank or the business, we’d have to prove Philip was a liability. If we try through the police, well, they probably won’t take the case, since they already have a restraining order against you.”

Maddie’s teacup clattered on the coffee table. “Mom and Dad have a restraining order against you?”

“It was several years ago,” Jasper grimaced. “Rose and I were seeking mediation through the court because we thought their treatment of Evan met the burden of child abuse.”

“Except since the abuse in question allowed the survival of another child, the court ruled against your uncle,” Hailey explained. “Your parents were granted a no contact restraining order. Except under certain circumstances relating to the Buckley business.”

Maddie shied away from it, the neglect Evan and she had endured. It was a vague thing in her mind. Something she understood from her coursework but couldn’t apply to her family. It hurt too much.

Jasper Buckley sighed. “There’s nothing you can do?”

“Moving isn’t illegal,” Hailey Winsome replied bluntly. “Even under suspicious circumstances.”

“They’re gone.” Jasper stood and paced, “and it’s okay that they just left Maddie without contact?”

“Well, no.” Winsome said, “child neglect is never okay. But since she’s over the age of eighteen, there’s nothing legal we can do.”

“But they’re gone,” Maddie repeated. “And there’s no way to contact them?”

“The cleaners showed up yesterday, said their remit was to clean the house thoroughly and arrange for it to be closed up. No one has seen Philip and Margaret, Daniel, or Evan since Thursday.”

“When I got into a huge fight with my parents.” Maddie choked back tears.

“Maddie,” Jasper knelt in front of her seat. “This isn’t your fault. You have to believe that.”

“How can I?” Her voice cracked and wobbled. The lawyer offered a box of tissues. “I came home and noticed how out of sorts Evan was. I pushed the issue with Mom and Dad.”

Jasper sighed. “There will be a paper trail, right? Margaret and Philip will need hospital medical records to be forwarded and Evan’s school records at least.”

“Nothing I can access without a court order.” The lawyer said, packing up her bag and shrugged. “I’ll see myself out, but Jasper, your brother is nowhere near restrained enough to just cut off communication. There will be ways. We just have to wait.”

“Waiting sucks,” Uncle Jasper said with a sigh. “When do your classes start up again?”

“A couple weeks.” Maddie choked on a mirthless laugh. “Not until after Christmas, at least.”

His lips pressed tightly together, “Philip and Margaret always had the most… interesting of timings.”

“I’ll miss it.” Maddie said, “Not the part where we watched Daniel open gifts for what always felt like hours, but Evan and I had our own traditions. Tea and Christmas movies in the den after everyone else had gone to bed. There were always presents under the tree for us. But I always made sure that I got what Evan really wanted.”

Maddie swallowed back the sorrow as she wondered if the movers had grabbed Evan’s present too, or if it was still sitting in the back of her closet in Hershey. Without her there, she worried that Evan wouldn’t celebrate at all.

He’d been so quiet when she’d visited. So quiet.

“Stay with us.” Jasper waved a hand to the whole wide, empty mansion. “Rose and I didn’t make any plans this holiday because of a work event, but she would adore having you here. Let us take care of you, Maddie.”

“Okay,” Maddie whispered. It wouldn’t be forever. Evan might be lonely this Christmas, but it wouldn’t be for always. She’d find him again. And Daniel. It wouldn’t matter what their parents wanted. They were family, too.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Maddie woke with the memory of that awful last night in Hershey fresh in her mind, her hand reaching for her phone. That first Christmas had been melancholy, but her aunt and uncle had held her as close as she’d let them and filled her holiday with warmth.

The last Christmas was bittersweet. Maddie hadn’t just been missing Evan and Daniel, but it had been less than six months since Aunt Rose’s sudden death in a car accident. They’d done their best to celebrate and remember her the way Aunt Rose would have wanted, but it had been hard. So many of Maddie’s precious people were missing from her life.

They’d been the family Maddie hadn’t really understood she’d needed when her parents had left her without a word in Hershey.

She blinked back tears. Grief was a process, she reminded herself. And she’d certainly been upset enough for the memory to feel fresh if she’d dreamt of the empty house last night. The sorrow clung like syrup to her eyes and her heart. It made her bed cling, and any movement seemed impossible.

There was nothing for it, though. Maddie just had to roll over and start again. First on her list was a shower, then a meal, then probably a call to her uncle. They’d both feel better for it, and well, if anyone knew how to look for Evan, it would be him.

Maddie rolled over and reached for her phone. The clock display said it was just after 1 in the afternoon and that she had one missed call from a California area code. She sat up in a rush. Bracing herself as her heart jumped in her throat and the room spun a little.

Maybe she wouldn’t have to call Uncle Jasper at all. She dialed the number.

“Will Abram, DCFS. Who is this?”

“Maddie Buckley.” She cleared her throat. “Someone from this number called me a couple of hours ago?”

“Right. Just a moment.”

She waited with her heart in her throat, seconds passing like hours, while the social worker cleared whatever he needed to, to speak with her.

“Alright, Ms. Buckley.” Mr. Abram said as he got back, “It’s my understanding through your brothers that you haven’t had contact with your parents in a little over three years. Is that accurate?”

“My mother sends letters, but the return address is always the corporate business office for Buckley Innovation in Philadelphia.” She swallowed. “Mr. Abram, do you- do you have contact with my brothers? Are they alright?”

“Will is fine, Ms. Buckley.” He said with a sigh, “And yes. The situation is complicated, but I am in contact with your brother Daniel, and your brother Evan is one of my cases.”

“But they’re okay? They’re- they’re not dead?” Maddie didn’t bother hiding the break in her voice or the tears. “It’s just no one could tell us if either of them were still alive. I had horrible visions of only finding their graves.”

“Oh, Ms. Buckley—Maddie, if I can call you that—I’m sorry you’ve had to live with that stress.” Will took a deep breath. “I can’t share a lot with you right now, but I can tell you that your brother Evan is alive. He needs some help, but I’m going to make sure he gets it.”

“And Daniel?”

Abram hesitated and blew out a rough breath. “Daniel is also alive, but I have to warn you that his prognosis is not good.”

“Thank you.” Maddie cleared her throat. “Why did you call Mr. Abram?”

“Your brother Evan is currently in the custody of the state of California.”

Maddie’s breath hitched. Evan had been removed from their parents’ custody. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to burst into tears out of grief that her parents had failed so badly or out of relief that someone else had finally saved her brother. Whatever had happened in the years since she’d last spoken to the family had obviously been hard.

“If you’re willing, we can begin the process of guardianship and see if you’re eligible to take custody of your brother.”

“Yes,” Maddie croaked. “Yes, of course. I’d love to take in Evan. What do I need to do?”

“It’d be easiest if you could come to LA. Are you in a position that such a leave would be allowed?”

“Yes.” Maddie started reconsidering her priorities for the day. “It might take me a day to make all the arrangements, but it won’t be a problem.”

“Good. Then here’s an overview of what the process could look like.”

When Maddie hung up the phone she continued to sit on her bed just breathing for a solid half an hour. Her world had shifted on its axis. It was good, but it was still overwhelming and she didn’t know who to call first. The hospital to arrange for emergency leave? Or Uncle Jasper to begin building her case for custody?

Should she shower? Eat? Pack? Should she already be looking for plane tickets? Maddie genuinely didn’t know what to do with herself, so she just sat and breathed.

Her phone rang. And the number on the screen belonged to Jasper Buckley. She huffed. The universe worked in mysterious ways. “Uncle Jasper, are you okay?”

“I just got a call from Maria Liefsson. She’d received a call from Philip Buckley about getting a family law advocate to represent them in California. LA specifically.” He sounded jubilant. “I’ve already contacted our firm, and I can be on a plane to LA in three hours to find out what’s going on. We’ll need a firm in the area, too, of course. I doubt Winsome & Loss have lawyers certified to practice in California.”

“Oh.” Maddie took a deep breath. “That’s excellent, of course. I’d really appreciate the support. I just finished a call with a man by the name of Will Abram. It turns out-” she struggled for a moment. She loved her parents. It was hard to see them the way everyone else did. But this wasn’t gossip. No one was looking in from outside her family and sneering. A social worker trained to handle cases of abuse and criminal neglect had made the determination that Evan couldn’t stay with the Buckleys. It was a hard thing to adjust to.

Maddie cleared her throat, “Evan was removed from Mom and Dad’s custody. I’ll send you the information I have in just a moment. It’s a big shock.”

“Is it?” Jasper asked carefully, “Maddie, this can’t be the first time you heard this. Threats of criminal neglect were the reason they abandoned you in Hershey.”

She wanted to say so many things, wanted to rail at how her uncle spoke about her parents, wanted to shout that they loved her. They loved Evan too.

Instead, Maddie took a deep breath and ignored the comment. “It’ll take me a bit longer to get out of town, but hopefully I’ll be in LA by tomorrow evening. In my absence, or if something awful happens, you’ll take over fighting for Evan, right?”

“Of course, Maddie.” Jasper sighed. “I’ve made extensive legal and financial provisions for both yourself and your brothers. I’ll call the head of my legal team and put him on watch. If something horrible happens, he’ll make sure Evan is taken care of. Right now, though, making sure your brothers are safe are the most important things.”

“Right.” Maddie froze as a thought occurred to her. “Wait. Uncle Jasper, if Mrs. Leifsson is on retainer for my parents, why would she forward that information?”

“Ah, but Maria isn’t on retainer. She’s taking a break from work to prepare for her first child.”

“Congratulations,” Maddie murmured. Considering less than idly that she might need to find a very nice gift for the baby Liefsson.

“While Maria would never share privileged client information from when she was employed, considering she is not currently employed by the firm or the Buckleys, she was happy to forward several area lawyers for the Buckleys’ consideration and then promptly call me to share the news.” He hesitated. “Almost everyone who works for the family knows how worried we were for Evan.”

“Thank you, Uncle.” She sighed, trying to ignore the tight lump in her chest over how easily he found it to forget Daniel. Like her brother was already dead. “I’ll call you later with my details.”

 

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