Chapter Text

Douxie

Eternal youth sounded like a much better deal nine centuries ago.

People used to simply ignore street rat kids. They didn’t even bat an eye at it! And as fucked as that was, it made being an immortal much easier, because no one cared enough to ask Douxie where his parents were.

And then social services became a thing, and suddenly people cared about kids. Out of the blue, they started trying to be all upright and moral about protecting children! Which was great! 

For the mortal ones.

Not so great for a 900-year-old immortal wizard who looked maybe seventeen at the oldest. 

The change was gradual. More adults were taking note of him. More people were asking where he lived, where his parents were, and why a kid like him was working two jobs to make ends meet instead of going to school.

Then that turned into people calling cops, and social workers. 

And that turned into something much worse; cops regularly picking him up off the street and handing him over to social services. 

Sure, he could have thrown a magic fireball in their faces and made a break for it, but that would only draw more unwanted attention, and by now Douxie had this down to a science. It was a routine. 

He let the cops pass him off to some poor, in-over-their-head social worker, who would spend their entire fucking day trying to find out who he was and slowing realizing there was no record of him anywhere… and while they did that, Douxie would bust out of wherever they stuck him to wait.

It didn’t matter where.

Sometimes it was one door over from the social worker’s office. Sometimes it was an emergency foster home placement. Sometimes it was a group home. Once or twice, it was a holding cell.

No where they put him was up to the task of holding a wizard, and Douxie was always gone by the next morning.

He’d meet back up with Archie, skip town, and then they’d bide their time until CPS was inevitably called again. 

Because they were always called. That’s how it ended every single time, no matter what tiny midwestern town or massive city they found themselves in, it did not matter. Someone always took note of the kid and his cat, all alone, and called CPS.

Every. 

Single.

Time.

Douxie hadn’t stayed in the same town for more than a year in decades… and to an immortal as old as him? A year was such a tiny blip in his existence, that honestly? It felt more like he was moving every week .

It was exhausting. He hadn’t had a moment to catch his breath in decades. Douxie was running himself ragged just trying to get CPS to leave him the fuck alone! 

He understood they were just doing their jobs, just trying to help a ‘poor child in need!’ But Douxie was over nine fucking hundred years old. He did not need some mortals poking into his business, treating him like a child , and talking in that condescending tone. 

It was infuriating. 

And worst of all, the cops and CPS never let Douxie take Archie with him. Every time this happened, they got separated. 

So, Douxie sat alone in the back of a cop car, arms crossed and glaring at the back of the cop’s head as they drove to meet the hundredth social worker Douxie’s been dumped on. 

“You know, the people at social services are really nice, son, they just want to help you,” The cop said as they pulled up to a government building, concrete and screaming ‘we don’t get enough funding to make this look like anything other than a prison.’ 

“Don’t call me son.” 

“Then give me something to call you.” He parked, then twisted in the driver’s seat to look Douxie in the eye. “What’s your name?”

That made Douxie scoff, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards.

His favorite way to make this experience as hellish for cops and social workers as it was for him was to cooperate . To give complete and total honesty, and watch them bend over backwards to call it a lie. 

“Hisirdoux Casperan, of Camelot, successor to Merlin.”

The cop gave an unimpressed sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Cute. Real cute kid. What’s your actual name?”

“Well, my friends call me Douxie.”

“Okay, Douxie—”

“But you’re not my friend, so,” Douxie shrugged, a smug grin sliding across his face, “Guess you’ll have to call me Hisirdoux Casperan, of Camelot, successor to Merlin. I know it’s a long title, but—”

“Jesus Christ, kid.” The cop dug his phone out of his pocket and started swiping through it for something, presumably the social worker’s number. “Is giving out your real name that much a challenge for you? Look, I’ll go first. I’m Detective Scott.” 

Douxie pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, letting the silence drag for a moment before saying, “...I think my titles are more impressive, but Detective’s good too. It’s nice, it’s quaint. I like it for you.”

Detective Scott hit the call button on his phone and held it to his ear as it rang. “Has anyone ever told you you’re an asshole?” 

“No, never. Why?” 

The detective opened his mouth to respond, but then seemed to switch course as whoever he was calling picked up the phone. “Hey, yeah, it’s Detective Louis Scott. I’m outside with the kid now. He’s a bit of a handful.” 

Douxie kicked the back of the driver’s seat. 

“And very mature too,” Detective Scott added, giving him a pointed glare. “Could you come grab him?” A pause as he listened to the person talk, then, “Great, see you in a minute.” Then he hung up and shoved the phone back into his jacket pocket. 

“Hey, have you ever been to Florida?” Douxie asked, crossing one leg over the other. “I’m trying to decide where I’ll move to next. Well, I mean, after I’ve run off again obviously, but I’ve never been to Florida, and I’ve heard its shit—”

“You don’t have to run away, kid.” The detective’s expression softened into something sympathetic. “These people will take care of you if you let them.”

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “See, that’s where you’ve got it all wrong… you think that’s a selling point, but it’s exactly why I want nothing to do with them.” 

The only person Douxie needed looking after him was Archie, and visa versa. All they had and all they needed was each other. Some mortal family trying to adopt him was just unwelcomed and unnecessary. 

A knock on the car window stopped Detective Scott from trying to convince him further. Instead, he just unlocked the door, and let Douxie get out to greet the social worker.

She was a middle-aged woman, Asian, with a polite smile plastered on as she offered a handshake. “Nice to meet you—”

Douxie brushed right past her, headed for the building. “Let’s get this over with. I might have eternity, but I don’t want to spend it here, so.” 

“Uh…” The social worker hesitated before hurrying to catch up with him. “My name is Carol Wang, and I know this whole thing is probably stressful for you—”

“I’ve heard the whole spiel, like a hundred times.” Douxie, despite his irritation, still held the door for her. “I beg of you, skip it.”

“Okay then. Follow me.”

She led him to her office, sat him down across from her desk, and into the questions they went. 

Who are you? How old are you? Where are your parents? Do they have custody? Did you run away? Were you kicked out? Where are you from? The UK? Do you have American citizenship? Etcetera and so forth…

For hours.

He answered every question honestly, just like he always did.

I’m Hisirdoux Casperan, of Camelot, successor to Merlin. I’m 915 years old. My parents are dead, I watched them burn alive on the pyre when I was six in the Middle Ages. I’m from Camelot. Etcetera and so forth…

And Ms. Wang asked a coworker to contact the UK Child Protective services, just like they always did.

Eventually Ms. Wang did what they always did… just stopped asking questions and gave him an irritated look. “I can’t help you if you don’t give me something here, okay? Something. Anything to go off of. Just a name.” 

Douxie gave a heavy sigh and reveled in the way she perked up a bit, like she thought she’d finally defeated him, and now he was going to tell her the honest to god truth! So, he did. “My name is Hisirdoux Casperan, of Camelot, successor to Mer—”

Ms. Wang groaned loudly and dropped her head into her hands. 

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards again. “You doing alright there, Ms. Wang?” He didn’t actually care, Douxie just wanted to rub it in.

She took a deep breath, composed herself, and lifted her head again. “Fine. You want to goof off and not take anything seriously? Fine.” Ms. Wang turned back to her computer, typing away. “I’m going to put that stupid, ridiculous name in your file.” 

“Make sure you spell it right, no one ever spells it right.” Douxie craned his neck to get a look at her screen, just making sure. “It’s Hisirdoux, H-I-S-I-R-D-O-U-X, then Casperan, C-A-S-P-E-R-A-N.”

She typed it in, then gave him this smug smile like she thought she won by putting that name in.

Douxie just smiled right back, equally smug.

Her computer made a noise, some notification, and alarm shot across her face as she whipped around to check it. “File found— Wait . You already have an existing file under that name?” 

“Yep.”

“So, that’s your—”

“Real name, yeah.” 

Her face reddened several shades. “I’m so sorry I called your name ridiculous. I honestly thought you were making that up.”

“You are not the first to believe that, and you definitely will not be the last.” 

She gave him an almost sympathetic look. “It’s not a great name.”

“Well, I got it in the 12th century, and… it didn’t age well.” The name only sounded more and more ridiculous as the centuries passed. “That’s why I go by Douxie.”

“Douxie. Got it. You could have just said that instead of making up a story about it.” Ms. Wang started scrolling through his file, muttering to herself. “...Indiana, Oregon, Idaho— You’ve been picked up in a lot of places, haven’t you?” 

The list was longer than that. He was pretty sure he was a few states shy of being picked up by CPS in all fifty states… but Douxie just shrugged and said, “Yeah.”

“...You’ve run away from five different foster homes?” 

Again, the list was longer than that, but Douxie didn’t expect this underfunded mess to be able to keep all those files straight. He laughed and pointed at her computer. “Does it tell you how I did it? I’m quite proud of that actually.”

The look of alarm on her face only got more and more exaggerated as she read further. “How did you fool a home alarm system?”

“Magic.”

“Har-har, very cute.” Ms. Wang huffed. “Do you have any idea how difficult it’s going to be to place you?”

He really didn’t care. Douxie was only still here, indulging Ms. Wang, because trial and error had taught him to wait until he was alone, then use magic to escape unnoticed and uncaught. If they saw him leaving, they’d try to stop him. It was just easier this way. 

The moment she left him alone, whether it be for a bathroom break, or dropping him off at an emergency foster placement home, he’d be gone.

Maybe he and Archie could hide out in Trollmarket for a few days, lay low, then skip town? Maybe take the gyre to Florida? Maybe aim to check another state off his list of places he still needed to get harassed by CPS?

“I need to make some calls.” Ms. Wang picked up her phone and set to work. She put it to her ear, and it rang a few times before someone picked up. “Hello, Mr. Jones, how are you?” She laughed at something he said. “Good, I’m glad! So, I've got a kid in need of a place to stay tonight. He’s a bit of an odd case. He’s got a history of running away from foster homes—” She cut herself off to listen, then said, “I’m sorry to hear that. I guess I’ll keep looking. Have a good night, Mr. Jones.” 

She hung up, then called another number. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Hanson—”

Same result, and onto the next number… then the next, and the next, and the next. 

Every number she called was the same. Ms. Wang would mention he was a teenager, and they’d say no. She’d tell them he has a history of running away, and they’d say no. She’d mention she’s not 100% sure he’s an American citizen, and they’d say no. 

She called seven numbers before sighing heavily and pinching the bridge of her nose, with a look of exhaustion on her face. “What am I gonna do with you, kid?” She groaned.

“You know,” Douxie shrugged and propped his feet up on her desk. “I get asked that question a lot.”

“I bet you do.” Ms. Wang shooed his boots off her desk, then turned her attention back to her phone, scowling. “I’ve got one last number to try before I have to stick you in a group home.”

“Doesn’t matter where you stick me. I’ll be gone tomorrow morning.” 

She pointedly ignored that comment, dialed the last number, and said, “Hello, I’m sorry to disturb you so late at night, Dr. Lake.”

Barbara

The call came when Barbara was just getting off work, sky already dark, and climbing into her car for the drive home. She was exhausted from her shift at the hospital, and eager to collapse in her bed the moment she got home, but her phone was ringing incessantly.

She sighed and dug it out of her purse, praying it wasn’t the hospital telling her to come right back inside because she was needed.

Carol . 

Barbara’s heart skipped over a beat, suddenly wide awake as she scrambled to hit accept and get the phone to her ear. “Hi, Carol!”

“Hello, I’m sorry to disturb you so late at night, Dr. Lake.”

“You’re not disturbing me, I actually just got off work. Are you calling about…?”

“Yes.”

Barbara had to take a second to curve her excitement and give a composed response. “Tell me about them.”

“I’ve got a maybe sixteen, seventeen-ish year old boy, it's a complicated situation, and normally I wouldn’t even offer it to a first-time foster parent, but I’ve already called seven other homes, and you’re the only foster family available willing to take teenagers, so my options are limited. It’s either you, or a group home.”

Barbara knew the answer was going to be yes already, but she stayed quiet and let the social worker finish.

“We aren’t clear on a lot of details about him. He’s such a smart ass and won’t give us a straight answer on any of our questions, so we don’t know where his parents are, or where he’s from, or his age, just that he goes by Douxie. Also, there’s question about whether he’s an American citizen or not—”

“Where do you think he’s from?”

“England. He’s got a very noticeable accent. We’re currently working on contacting the UK child services to find out who he is, because we can’t find any American documentation of him other than a file saying CPS has picked him up off the street a few times prior… and there’s one more thing.”

She could hear the cringe in Carol’s tone, and knew it was going to be a bad thing. “What?”

“He’s a bit of an escape artist. He’s already run away from five foster homes. Apparently, the second home he ran from had been informed that he ran from the first one…” Carol gave a deep sigh, then continued, “And they locked him in his room overnight. He managed to pick the lock, fool the home alarm system, sneak past everyone else in the house, and make it five miles on foot before the police picked him up.”

Barbara forced down her anger at hearing he’d been locked in his room to instead say, “Okay, you gotta admit, that’s impressive.”

“Yeah…” Carol sounded just as tired as Barbara felt. “But because of all that, no one is willing to take him. I know this would be your first foster placement, and it’s asking a lot of you for your first time, but will you take him? Just for tonight! I swear, I will find someone else after that, he just needs a bed for tonight.”

“I’ll take him,” She answered automatically.

“Excuse my language but thank fuck.” Carol said, with nothing but relief in her tone. “I’ll be over to drop him off soon. Bye.”

“See you soon!” She hung up and took a few minutes to compose herself.

Barbara had been eagerly awaiting this call since she went through the process of becoming an eligible foster parent. She’d always wanted to do this, but never could while with Jim’s father… with him gone, it was time to start living her life.

She had her heart set on it. Barbara was taking in that kid… even if it was just for a night.

Jim was already asleep when she got home, so she had to wake the boy up and hurriedly explain that they were getting their first foster placement tonight. He’d been so excited about the idea of getting a sibling when she first pitched the idea of fostering to him, and he was practically buzzing now.

So, little eleven-year-old Jim ended up sitting on the living room couch, staring out the window, into the dark, waiting for Carol to arrive with the kid.

Barbara was setting up the guest room as quickly as she could, and she had just finished making the bed when she heard Jim shout, “Moooooom! He’s here!”

Barbara practically ran down the stairs, then stopped at the bottom, took a second to straighten herself out, then opened the door before Carol could even ring the doorbell.

Standing beside the woman was a kid, white, with pitch black hair except the tips, which were dyed a dark blue. He was wearing a hoodie, hands shoved in the pockets, over a vintage rock band t-shirt, ripped jeans, and doc martens. All black.

He wasn’t carrying any bags, and there was a seemingly permanent scowl on his face.

“Hi!” She eagerly offered the kid her hand. He didn’t take it. “I’m Doctor Barbara Lake, and this is—”

Jim threw himself at the kid, wrapping his arms around his legs. “I’m Jim! Do you wanna play sword fight with me? I have these cool toy swords I got for Christmas last year. You can use the silver one, but the pirate one is mine.” 

The kid, Douxie, blinked down at Jim with a look of utter bafflement on his face, but made no attempt to pry Jim off of him. “Uh… actually, I’m not much of a sword guy. Can I play a wizard instead?” And there was that accent Carol mentioned. Definitely British. 

“Okay!” Jim nodded, beaming, then took Douxie by the hand and dragged him into the house, leaving Barbara with Carol.

“Thank you so much, Dr. Lake, if you need anything , just call. I’ll come pick him up tomorrow afternoon—” Carol pulled a manilla folder out of her purse and handed it over. “This is his file. It’s not much, like I said, we know very little about this kid.”

Barbara opened the folder to find half a page of information, and a photo of him. 

“Good luck, Dr. Lake.” 

And with that, Carol left, so Barbara went in search of the kids.

She found Jim, holding Douxie’s hand, excitedly showing him his bedroom. “If you don’t like playing sword fight, we can play chef instead, I have this kitchen too—” Jim pulled him over to the playset, it was bright pink, and she bought it from the girls' section, but Jim really wanted it.

She watched from the doorway, impressed to find the kid not trying to pull away from Jim. In fact, she swore she saw him readjust his grip on Jim’s hand, to hold it more comfortably. 

So, he was good with kids… That brought a smile to her face.

“Douxie, right?” She asked, calling back the boys’ attention.

The kid stiffened at the sound of his name and that’s when he dropped Jim’s hand, shoving his hands back into his hoodie pockets. “What, Dr. Lake?” 

“You can just call me Barbara.”

Douxie narrowed his eyes at her, like she was a puzzle piece he was trying to make fit somewhere. “No thanks, Dr. Lake.”

She got the impression he’d already decided he disliked her. Fine. He didn’t seem to mind Jim, and Barbara could work with that. “Jim, kiddo, why don’t you show Douxie to his room?”

The smile that lit up Jim’s little face was priceless, and then he was pulling Douxie over to the guest room. She trailed behind them to supervise. 

The guest room was nothing special, just a twin bed against one wall, a desk, a dresser, a mirror, and a big comfy chair. Douxie’s gaze swept over the room, expression unchanging, completely neutral. 

“Thanks, Jim,” he said, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“Okay, kiddo,” Barbara caught Jim by the shoulder. “You can hang out with Douxie tomorrow, but it’s way past your bedtime, okay?”

Jim pouted, and he opened his mouth to start whining, but Douxie hurried to speak first, seemingly in an attempt to prevent it, “It’s alright, mate. Tomorrow, yeah?”

He gave a little nod, giving it. “Okay.” 

Barbara mouthed a ‘thank you,’ to Douxie, then shooed Jim off to bed. After she heard the door shut behind him, she turned back to the teenager. “I noticed you didn’t have a bag with you. Do you have something to sleep in?”

Douxie gave a non-committal shrug. “I can sleep in this.”

“You’re wearing jeans.”

“Yeah, well, no offense Dr. Lake, but what are you gonna do to solve that?” He gave her this look, like he knew exactly how this was going to turn out. “Run me to the store at near midnight to buy me PJs? I didn’t think so—”

“I can’t take you to the store right now, because I can’t leave Jim alone, but my ex left behind some of his clothes, and you might fit those.”

He narrowed her eyes at her, tension in his posture, like he didn’t trust the offer one bit. “Will I get my clothes back?”

Barbara blinked at him. “Why… why wouldn’t you?”

He snapped his mouth shut and didn’t answer.

“Okay, well…” Barbara gestured out into the hallway. “I’ll go get those clothes for you, and it’s totally up to you whether you change or not.”

She hurried towards her bedroom and found James’ old clothes. She selected a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt before coming back to find Douxie hadn’t moved from where she left him, but his gaze was flickering around the room, as if assessing it.

“They might be a bit big on you, but that’s better than small, right?” She held them out to Douxie with a smile, but he made no move to take them, hands not budging from his hoodie pockets. “Uh… right.” She set the clothes down on the desk for him. “I’m just down the hall if you need me, the bathroom is right at the top of the stairs, so… goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

The moment she was out of his room, Douxie shut the door behind her, and she hoped that meant he planned on changing, but wasn’t optimistic about it.

She wasn’t sure if she could categorize this as a success so far or not. The kid was definitely on guard, but he’d warmed up to Jim instantly. Maybe this would go well. Yeah, she just had to have a little faith in it.

It would work out.

Douxie

As soon as Dr. Lake stepped out of the room, he shut the door behind her, rolled his hoodie sleeve up to get at his bracer, and used magic to move the desk in front of the door. There was no way Douxie was staying here tonight.

The plan was the same every single time.

Wait until he had a minute alone, then escape, and get back to Archie. All that really mattered was getting back to his familiar.

Douxie went straight for the window, already pulling together an unlock spell from his bracer, only to find it unlocked. The last three foster homes he’d been thrust upon had locks on all the windows and doors… Well, at least this would make things simpler. He shook off the spell and pulled the window open. 

There was a small slant to the roof outside the window, easy to climb on. He slipped out the window, carefully shutting it behind him, then creeping along to the ledge of the roof.  It was a further fall than he would have liked, but Douxie wasn’t a fucking quitter, so he grabbed a porch beam and shimmied down to the ground.

Once his boots hit grass, he took off running.

All he had to do was get back to Archie, get to Trollmarket, get on that gyre, and he was home free! 

Once he was a few blocks from the house, he slowed down to allow himself a moment to catch his breath. There was no telling how quickly Dr. Lake would realize he was gone, so resting, even for a moment, wasn’t wise. He needed to keep moving, to make it back to Archie—

Douxie forced in one last deep breath, then picked up the pace again, speed-walking down the sidewalk, out of the neighborhood, and into town. 

This wasn’t the first time he and Archie had separated, they had it down to a system now. If they ever got split up, they met at the closest park, on the bench nearest the entrance… so Douxie found Arcadia Park and sat down in the pitch black to wait. 

He didn’t have to wait more than half an hour.

“Douxie?” 

His head shot up at his name, just as Archie came slinking out of the darkness, his big yellow eyes were the only visible part of him. 

“There you are!” Douxie stood up and reached for his familiar. 

Archie leapt into Douxie’s arms, purring loudly as he cuddled up to the wizard. 

“Did you run into any trouble getting out?” Archie asked as he climbed up to his usual perch on Douxie’s shoulder.

“No, they didn’t even try locking the door.” Douxie toyed with his hoodie drawstring as he headed out of the park, needing something to fidget with. “What about you? Have you eaten?”

He shrugged. “I begged outside a cafe until they gave me fish, so I’m fine.” 

“That’s good, now I was thinking we could go down to Trollmarket and stay there tonight—” Douxie cut himself off when he noticed a familiar shape standing in the streetlight, by the park entrance. 

The kid, Jim, with a bike. 

Shit.

His instincts said he should just go, not risk being caught again, but that tiny eleven-year-old was all alone, in the middle of the night, and dragging his bike straight towards Douxie. As Jim got closer, he could see tear tracks streaming down his face, and his shoulders shaking.

Douxie couldn’t leave the kid like this…

“Jim… what are you doing here?” He asked. 

The crying child sniffled and wiped at his eyes. “Mom said—” He hiccupped “—you ran away, and she told me to stay home while she went to—” another hiccup, “—to look for you, but I wanted to help, so—” 

“Okay.” Douxie sighed and took Jim by the shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you home.” 

Jim latched onto Douxie’s hand, and allowed the wizard to take the bike, pushing it himself. 

Douxie exchanged glances with Archie as they exited the park, both knowing at best, Douxie could drop Jim off at his house, and leave. With any luck, they wouldn’t get caught, but it was a gamble… and one he’d have to take, thanks to the kid.

“Where’d you get the cat?” Jim asked, still wiping his wet cheeks as he blinked up at Archie. 

“He’s my cat.”

“What’s his name?”

“Archie.” Douxie was doing his best to remember where the kid’s house was, but it’s not like he ever intended to go back, he didn’t write down the address or anything.

“Can I pet him?”

Archie answered for him by leaning his head down to allow Jim easier access, purring as encouragement. Jim lit up as he stroked the cat. 

“He’s purring…”

“Yeah, he does that…” Was it a right or left turn here? He glanced in both directions, trying to puzzle it out.

“Why’d you run away?”

“Uh…” Douxie settled on going right, too focused on scanning the neighborhood for anything vaguely familiar to even look at the kid. “I had to go get Archie.”

“Why didn’t he just come with you…?” 

“Because CPS doesn't let you take your pets with you.” Next was a left turn, he was sure of it. He remembered passing the house with the swingset in the front yard.

“So… you ran away because they won’t let you bring your kitty with you?”

Was it this cul-de-sac or the one over…? 

When Douxie didn’t answer fast enough, Jim tugged on his hand. “Douxie?”

“Uh, yes, that’s why.” That was one of the reasons at least. He settled on a cul-de-sac and led Jim down the sidewalk. 

“I don’t think my mom would be upset if you brought him home. He can live with us too.”

And finally , there was the house. Douxie let out a sigh of relief at the sight and pulled Jim towards the door. “That’s nice, Jim, but I can’t stay.”

“You can stay,” Jim insisted. “That’s why the CPS lady brought you here, cause mom said you could stay.”

He leaned Jim’s bike against the wall and checked the door. Locked . With a sigh, Douxie picked Archie off his shoulder and handed him to Jim. “Could you pet Archie for a minute?”

Jim nodded eagerly and pulled Archie close to his chest. His familiar purred and cuddled up against the kid, knowing exactly what Douxie was asking of him; be a distraction. 

With Jim occupied, Douxie subtly pulled together an unlock spell from his bracer and got the door open. As soon as he had access to the house again, Douxie gently took Archie from Jim’s arms, helped the cat back onto his shoulder, and urged the kid inside. “Alright, come on.”

Jim didn’t budge, blinking up at him with big, sad blue eyes. “Are you gonna leave again?”

“Jim—” He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to find a way to explain this to the kid, but he was interrupted by a shout. 

“Oh my god!” Dr. Lake was pulling in the driveway, scrambling out of the car without even parking or shutting the door behind her. The sheer panic mixed with dawning relief on her face was startling. “You came back!” 

“Jim followed me, and I wasn’t going to leave an eleven-year-old alone, on the street, in the middle of the night, so I brought him back, that’s it.” He pried his hand from Jim’s, and gently pushed him towards his mother. “Goodbye.” 

He tried to walk past her, but she caught him arm. “You can’t run away like that, Douxie, I’m responsible for you! Where did you go—”

“To get his cat,” Jim said, pointing at Archie.

Douxie yanked his arm out of Dr. Lake’s grip and took a few steps back, putting space between them, and angling his body so that shoulder Archie perched on was further from her. Protected . He just reunited with his familiar, and he damn well wasn’t getting separated again.

“His cat?” Dr. Lake blinked at Archie, as if just noticing him. “You— hang on.” She shook her head in disbelief, “You ran away to get your cat? Is that why you ran from the other foster homes?”

Douxie considered just making a break for it, but he honestly suspected Jim would try to follow again… so instead, he just nodded. “They wouldn’t let me keep him, so—”

“Douxie,” She had this look of alarm on her face as she put a hand over her chest, “If you had told me about him—”

“You would have tried dropping him off at the pound, like the first home did.”

“No! I would have driven you to go pick him up! You can keep the cat, Douxie!”

He traded glances with Archie, silently trying to get his opinion. Archie subtly adjusted his paws, tapping his right one twice… a code they came up with centuries ago, so they could communicate more easily in public.

Two taps.

A yes.

Douxie sighed. Archie was right. They didn’t have anywhere else to sleep tonight, and if he tried to leave again, Jim was just going to follow, and if Dr. Lake was going to let Archie stay…? He had no reason not to accept.

“Okay…” He shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets. “I’ll stay. For now.”

“Oh, thank god.” Dr. Lake let out a huge sigh of relief, then went back to her car to park it properly. 

They went back inside, and Douxie followed them up the stairs. Dr. Lake tucked Jim into bed, then shut the door behind her, leaving Douxie, Archie, and her standing in the hallway. Quietly, so not to wake her son, she said, “Thank you so much for bringing him back. I didn’t even know he left the house.”

He shrugged, hands in his hoodie pockets. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t going to leave him out there all alone.”

“Still, thank you.” She led him back towards the guest room. “He could have been seriously hurt, or hit by a car, just— thank you. Now, let’s unbarricade the door.”

“I can do that by myself.” It would be easier by himself. Without her there, he could just move it with magic.

“No, no, I’ll help,” Dr. Lake insisted, already trying to shoulder the door open.

He sighed, and joined her, and together they managed to force it open, sliding the desk out of the way, while Archie sat on the stairs railing to watch.

Once it was open, Dr. Lake helped him move the heavy desk back into its place. 

“You must be stronger than you look, if you moved this all by yourself,” She laughed as she shoved it those last few inches against the wall.

He shrugged, unsure how to reply to that.

“Do you play sports?” She asked, blatantly trying to get more information about him.

Douxie leveled her with an unimpressed stare, raising one eyebrow as he gestured to himself. “Do I look like I play sports?”

“I guess not,” Dr. Lake laughed. “So, what do you like to do?”

He sat down in the chair in the corner of the room, making a lap for Archie to settle in. Douxie shrugged. “I play guitar.” 

In truth, he played many different instruments. More than he could count. Music was, after all, what he’d spent his eternity pursuing… but Douxie still considered himself more of a guitarist than anything else. 

“Oh!” Her eyebrows shot upwards. “Really? How long have you been playing?”

There were two honest ways to phrase that answer, and only one she’d believe. ‘Nine centuries,’ wouldn’t sound honest, even though it was, so instead, he said, “I started learning when I was twelve.” 

Granted, he started with a lute, not a guitar, but the skills transferred. 

“You must be pretty good by now then, huh?” And she gave him this smile, like she really believed that, and was almost… proud about it.

Douxie scratched behind Archie’s ear to avoid having to look at her. “I guess so.”

“What kind of guitar? Acoustic? Electric?”

“Both, but I prefer electric.”

“That’s really cool! Alright, well, I’ll leave you two be,” Dr. Lake headed for the door. “Goodnight, Douxie, Archie.”

“Goodnight.”

She shut the door behind her, and with a sigh and a wave of his hand, he immediately undid all her hard work moving the desk back. He set it in front of the door, then collapsed into the bed, not bothering to change out of his jeans. Instead, he just curled around Archie, and buried his nose in his fur. 

“Do you want me to stay awake? Keep watch?”

Douxie nodded mutely, and let Archie’s purring lull him to sleep… So long as Archie was with him, he was safe.

Barbara

She felt bad about calling Carol at 1AM, but her foster kid ran away and came back. It felt like the kind of thing she should inform the social worker about… so she shut herself in her bedroom and dialed the number.

The phone rang for a solid minute before Carol picked up, voice groggy with sleep. “Dr. Lake?” She gave a heavy sigh, “Did he run away?”

“Yes, but then he came back.”

There was a beat of silence, when she asked, “What…?”

“He came back.”

“So… he’s still with you?”

“He’s here, I’ve got him.” Barbara paced her bedroom floor. “And he told me why he ran away too.”

“What did he say?”

“He has a cat.”

There was another beat of silence, then Carol echoed, “A cat?”

“His name is Archie, and the moment I told him the cat could stay here too, he stopped trying to run away.”

Carol groaned, and Barbara could hear the utter exhaustion in her voice. “A cat… he was running away for a cat… god damnit, so basically what you’re telling me is not only do I need to find a home willing to take in such an already complicated case, but I also have to find someone willing to take in a cat too? Otherwise he runs?”

The words were out of Barbara’s mouth before she really thought them through, “I’ll keep him.”

“You will?”

Although her answer was impulsive, it made sense to her. Douxie, while guarded and distrusting, seemed like a nice kid… and if Barbara was being honest with herself, he’d already won her over by bringing Jim back.

So much could have happened to Jim, out there, alone on the street in the middle of the night… Barbara couldn’t leave Douxie to be thrown into another foster home after that. Not while knowing how difficult he would be to place, and that he’d undoubtedly run away again the moment anyone tried to take that cat from him.

Barbara damn well wasn’t giving up on him.

“I love cats, and my son is really fond of him, so— so if you need a foster family willing to take a teenager and a cat, that’s us.”

Carol was silent for a long moment, considering, then said, “Okay. I’ll get the paperwork started, and we’ll make you his official placement, at least until we find out if he’s an American citizen, or who his parents are, if they have custody, etc… Don’t be afraid to call me if anything else happens.”

“I will, but… I think we’re gonna be alright.”