3:30 PM 07/30/2004
Ms. Perry
The Willows were... the best possible option she had for him, in the short term. She didn't have enough time to find a more well-adjusted couple, so this would have to do. She couldn't be sure they wouldn't resent him for being a parahuman, but she had hoped that his Thinker powers could be looked over.
As far as she wanted them to be concerned, he was just a little more intelligent than most ten-year-olds. He was quite mentally sharp for one already, as she'd found out with how he spoke.
Whether it truly that way because of his powers, or his ironic premature maturity, she couldn't tell.
Regardless, she didn't believe kids should ever have that level of maturity, especially at 10, but it was the world she lived in.
However given her profession, it was hardly rare. Unfortunately though, this was the furthest that she could go for him.
In fact, it'd been the furthest she'd gone for any others, her cold professional apathy having left her when he'd begged for help, his desperation rolling off of him in waves, his fear and guilt nearly suffocating her.
She didn't know exactly what he'd gone through, but it was a pattern she'd witnessed, and sensed, in many, many recently diagnosed parahumans.
She'd managed to come to understand that it was intrinsically tied with trauma, and he'd triggered as a result, so she knew it must've been horrific. Not that the EMTs or his file explained much past his injuries- as far as the EMTs knew, they'd gotten a call to go to the edge of the Docks, where they'd found "the boy in a sorry, mangled state."
The same week though, there had been reports on the T.V about a runaway gang near the Docks that had been caught- had he been one of those runaways?
She wouldn't find out until she had time to call the foster home she'd found listed on his emergency contacts, but if it was true, what had driven the agents to hurt him so terribly?
It was one of the rare moments she'd given in the urge to get involved, and not spectate. There was a reason she wasn't a pediatrician, or a psychiatrist.
So here she was, trying her best to probe his potential adoptive parents' emotions to see how they felt about him, despite a tiny voice telling her how ridiculous it was that she was risking so much for this kid.
Regardless, It would be very obvious to her if they held ill intentions, the sensation of something foul, and oily being quite the tell.
From what she could tell, the Wife, Agatha Willow, was the happier of the two, her emotional level fluctuating as she was told more and more about Lincoln, only ever rising sharply, before settling down.
The Husband, Henry, seemed to be the less enthusiastic of the pair, with his emotions being either discomfort, or slight repulsion as she explained the situation.
Agatha had murmured something about the scars that were forming where he'd been struck, as well as the slight bruising left around his right eye.
She had tried to find a parahuman who could help with the wounds, but many of them would've either told the PRT about him, or simply had thought it to be below them, given how sought after Healer parahumans were.
So, his scars remained.
Henry, on the other hand, seemed to recoil at the sight of Lincoln, guilt pouring off him even stronger than Lincoln's.
It stopped after he seemed to mentally compose himself, though his outward face never changed.
She internally winced, hoping this truly was the best idea. But it was better than the
alternative. She sighed, as she began to lead them to the hospital room Lincoln was in.
As she neared though, her heart began to pick up speed. The sound of her heels clicking on the off-white marble floors of the hall echoed as she rushed to the room, the panic surrounding the room sounding alarm bells throughout her power.
She excused herself, and slipped into the room, closing the door behind her, ignoring the confused responses from the pair.
The air in the room seemed to be infused with a sort of... stale panic? Her power never gave her a perfectly concise description, but she noted it wasn't the explosive kind of panic she was used to.
She scanned the room, and her brain went blank as she saw splotches of blood on the bed, starkly contrasting the white of the blanket.
"Fuck."
The pitter-patter of the I.V dripping became white noise as she tried to focus.
There had to be only one place he could be, hoping he hadn't jumped out the god-damned window. He was skinny enough to fit through the bars, she'd bet.
The bathroom.
She turned, trying to probe with her powers, trying to feel any concentration of the panic he had to be feeling, but her breath immediately hitched as she didn't feel much. Shit.
She hurried to the bathroom, hoping against hope that he was there. The panic in the air began to take it's toll, as she began to feel lightheaded as she opened the door, as she leaned dow-
The world went black for a second, as her mind was overloaded with what was an emotional equivalent of a flashbang, as she felt her head slam into the door.
She instinctively rose her hands in defense as she slumped onto the floor, and pain blooming in her forearms as Lincoln slammed something into them.
She let out a shuddering breath, freezing in terror, before opening her eyes, and looking up, witnessing a moment that seared into her mind.
Lincoln stood over her, his small fists smeared with blood, as he looked down to her, his chest heaving, but his face frozen in a dead, wide-eyed stare.
It finally hit her.
His powers. Thinkers, particularly overwhelmed ones had a tendency to disassociate, and repress anything outside of Logic.
He was in survival mode.
She let out a shaky breath, lowering her arms slowly, wincing at the pain. When she spoke, she tried to make her shaking voice smooth, and reassuring.
"Lincoln. Listen to me. You're safe, okay? I just want to introduce you to the couple I mentioned earlier." She stated, understanding that he was on a hair trigger. He was most likely processing what she said, she could practically see the gears turning on his blank expression.
He began to blink rapidly, his eyes dilating, as he began to process things normally.
"I...I'm sorry. I just-" He gestured to his head, swirling his hands, looking thoroughly ashamed, but more relieved than anything, as his emotions betrayed.
"I understand." She said, before examining her forearms. Two needles poked out, leaving two thin trails of blood, now dripping off her elbows.
She pulled them out, setting a mental reminder to apply antibiotics, and double check what he'd been prescribed. She didn't like the thought of cross contamination, as she realized these came from the I.V.
She wanted to feel upset, but she knew she should've been more careful, especially with a recent trigger. She needed to stabilize him, before he ran off from the Willows, and inadvertently found himself in the PRT, in a gang, or outright fucking dead.
She needed to prove that she could be trusted, and maybe check up on him as he settled into life with the Willow family. But she couldn't be there long term. He needed an anchor, desperately.
Sighing, she got up, wincing at the stinging.
She herded Lincoln to the sink, helping him wash off the blood, before heading back to the bed, to look over his wounds, which he no doubt aggravated in this stunt.
He grunted as he lied down, and sucking a breath as her hand brushed his ribs as she pulled up his shirt. His torso was littered with splotches of yellow and purple, and his wrist was still streaming blood slowly, from where he'd recklessly pulled the needles out.
She sighed, but was clinically interested at the apparent aspects of his power that she suspected flooded his body with adrenaline, shutting out anything other than logic.
Looking at his wounds, and his groans that only just begun- it also allowed him to ignore pain. Were his Thinker powers more combat related?
His vocabulary suggested more of information retention, which was attributed to Thinkers more oriented towards traditional information processing.
Shaking her head, she did what she could do help patch up the wounds, and gently reminded Lincoln that he could always talk to her if he ever felt overwhelmed again.
He nodded, but his emotions didn't quite align. She suspected he was still under some of the effects of the previous repression.
Again, this aspect of his powers seemed to point towards of combat thinker classification, and usually he would be examined by a professional at determining what classification of Thinker he was, but given nobody could know of his powers before he was safe, and that the Willows were very much antagonistic towards the PRT, and by proxy, many of the official examiners, who had some connection to the PRT, it was unlikely he'd find out exactly what he was.
So, she would try her best to analyze it for him.
Anything she could do to help him.
With those thoughts echoing, she tried her best to get one last read on him, before patching herself up, and usher in the Willows.
Lincoln visibly tensed at the sound of the door creaking opened, paired with a sharp tick of fear emanating from him, before giving her a little look, his face scrunching in a little frown.
She gave him a wry, but reassuring smile, as she tried to move in a soft, nonthreatening manner as she led the Willows to the visitor chairs by the bed.
She subtly pulled the chairs back, as she felt a wave of unease as they entered his personal bubble of space, Agatha especially.
Henry had no issues with staying a bit further away, but frowned as his wife sent him a glare.
"Mr. and Mrs. Willow, this is Lincoln. Lincoln, this is Mr. and Mrs. Willow. You can ask them, or me any questions you have." She explained gently, more so to Lincoln. Agatha spoke up first, with a worried tone.
"Is that blood?" She asked, pointed out the freshly dried patch of blood.
Shit. She must've missed it.
"I, uh sort of moved a little in my sleep, and one of the needles got out. I freaked out a little, but Ms. Perry helped me out just now." Lincoln lied almost easily, but clumsily, as his eyes obviously focused on their expressions, like he was improvising as their expressions shifted.
His power; no doubt. This was a Social Thinker aspect, though. Given everything she was seeing, she began to suspect he was a Split Thinker; certainly, a Social Thinker, but the other half wasn't as clear. With his lack of hesitation to hide, then ambush, Combat thinker was on the table, but his vocabulary and intuitive grasp of powers hinted at a more traditional Thinker.
Hm. She resolved to test this out further.
"Ah! Yes, it caused a little bit of a mess, but he's all right." She agreed, before directing the conversation to safe territory.
"Weren't you mentioning how excited you are for school?" She asked, wondering if any nudging was needed for him to get the hint, or if his social aspects weren't active unless focused on. If not, then would they be, if he used them enough?
Hm.
Perhaps not, as Lincoln was caught off guard by the question, before flatly telling them of how he'd always wanted to go to school consistently, the "with the others" being unspoken, but easy for her to pick up on, given the sharp hitch of heavy guilt, and hot anger that flared off of him.
Mrs. Willow let off a sense of disappointment, while Mr. Willow, for the first time in the meeting, seemed to give off a little respect towards Lincoln.
"Are you sure? We were thinking maybe homeschooling, for a while-" She hesitated, Lincoln's disappointed, and slightly guarded look sending a clear sign of disapproval "- at least, until you get used to the neighborhood." She finished, taking a step back, figuratively.
He shook his head a little, no doubt recalling how some families had imprisoned him in all but name, as she read in his file.
Agatha's jaw ticked, but otherwise, she murmured something about looking into the schools around the area.
He smiled for once, the sight a stark, but remarkable contrast to the perpetual frown his little face had been scrunched in for as long as she'd known the kid.
It was something that made her feel guilty at not being able to do more, and given the way guilt oozed off the Willows, the feeling was mutual.
She sighed, and led the conversation a bit more, before finding out Lincoln's enchantment towards books, as he named off several books he'd managed to read after he'd "borrowed" them from a couple schools. They weren't complex books by her standards, but the vocabulary was certainly leagues above what normal children his age read. Had he developed that on his own?
If so, she hadn't given him enough credit- he must've been abnormally sharp, even before his Thinker powers.
He enthused about reading comics as well, especially the series of "Mr. Thornwood's Peculiar Life" a comic that followed a Brute type hero, who often found himself in the situation of choosing between protecting his cat, Penny, from danger, as she'd follow him everywhere, to his endless frustration, at the expense of some interesting gadget or trinket he'd picked up earlier in the comic, and without fail, he would always choose to save Penny.
As Lincoln explained, it was one of the first comics released back in 1986, a few years after the first parahumans had been triggered.
From what she put together, it was aimed towards teaching kids to be selfless, and protect those you love, at the expense of vapid, material things.
It was certainly a little too on the nose for her, but she was glad to see he admired a good example.
He went on about how he wondered why Mr. Thornwood hadn't just simply put Penny in a cage, or leash.
At this; all the adults could do was wryly smile at each other, and give vague agreements, all tip-toeing around the subject, treating it equally to a kid asking about the logistics of Santa.
They could all see this was one of the bubbles of childhood that had managed to survive all he'd been through, so they'd all seemingly telepathically come to the understanding of messing with it as little as possible.
He practically vibrated in excitement, much to her chagrin, as he immediately winced, when Mr. Willow spoke up, and mentioned having a collection of older comics from when he was younger that he would be happy to give to him. The guilt that seeped out of him hinted at something else, that she pretended not to notice.
She'd decided to end the meeting on a good note, hoping that with the happy energy buzzing around him, he'd get more comfortable with them, at least enough to prevent something like what had happened not even half an hour earlier.
She led the Willows out of the room, giving Lincoln one last glance, a sensation of tiredness washing over her as she somberly noted how his happy emotions seemed to already have begun to suffocate underneath a slow, but all-consuming blanket of heavy guilt, and anger.
His stare was slightly unfocused, as he turned his head to stare outside at the gray clouds rolling overhead outside the windows.
{A/N: Monday will be my weekly update day- two per week.
On that topic, I want to announce something important. If I get five comments (Only AO3 Comments count!) or reviews before the end of the week, I will release one extra chapter at the start of the next week instead of two, all at once.
Note, though- only the sites that have five comments or reviews, for example; FF . net- will have access to the extra chapter for a full day before all the other sites that I cross post this on, along with whatever sites hit five comments.
I know, I know- you could easily just check out Chrysalis on the other sites that do comment, but all of this is in good spirit, and the effort would probably be more than just typing out a review, or comment, lol.
With that lengthy announcement- R.M out! }