Title: The Roads we walk...
Beta: Thanks to The Other, all mistakes are mine
Disclaimer: Glee is not mine
The parts in bold is French.
Chapter 3: The Weekend
Vivian and Sebastian was finally let into the boy's room again. The Doctor's had taken tests and talked to him for two hours, while Vivian had filled in her son on her plans. Sebastian had cringed and felt his chest tighten when he thought about the boy being bruised and broken and even more did he wish he could protect him. Then his mother suggested that they take him in, and Sebastian felt bad for it, but he almost wished that the boy wouldn't remember who he was, just so he wouldn't be taken away from him. Then, after two hours of agonizing about what was going to happen, they were told that the boy wanted to see them.
When they came into the hospital room, his mother smiled at the boy before taking one of the doctor's and the lady Sebastian figured was from Social services outside the room to talk. Sebastian stepped into the room and smiled when he saw the the boy was looking awake and sitting halfway up, leaning against the headboard. He got a smile back, somewhat shy, but still beautiful. Him and his mother had agreed that Sebastian would be the one to approach the boy about coming with them.
“Hi. How are you doing?” Sebastian dragged the chair from the wall next to the bed and sat down, looking at the boy in the bed.
“I'm good, all things considering. I'm a little lost, and I have a headache, but I just had someone cut into my brain, so that's probably normal.” The pale boy looked at him wryly.
“Heh, yeah probably.” Sebastian smiled at him again; he couldn't seem to keep it at bay with this boy.
“Look, I don't know what the doctors have told you, about what happened if you don't get your memory back?”
The boy tilted his head slightly, and gave Sebastian a look he didn't recognize. “Well, the social lady told me that I have to go into a foster family, as I'm not 18 yet.”
“Good, the reason I ask, is that our family is an approved foster family, and we would like to give you the offer to come with us.”
The boy smiled a little, and his eyes started tearing up. Sebastian didn't know what to do, but took his hand. A few minutes went by where the boy tried to gather himself, and in the end he nodded his head. “I would like that.”
Just then his mother came back in with the social lady and the doctor, the first looked pleased, and the other a little disgruntled. Behind them followed Officer Serento, and he nodded at Sebastian and the boy before leaning on the wall next to the door. Sebastian gave his mother a small nod and a smile, and he got one back before his mother walked over to the bed.
“Mon petit enfant, I am Vivian Smythe, Sebastian's mother. It is good to finally meet you properly.”
The boy smiled shyly at her. “You too. Thank you for taking me here, for saving me. Both of you.” He looked over at Sebastian as he said it, and both Smythe's gave him a big smile.
The doctor cleared his throat and began talking. “Now, young man, as we talked about, in a few days you will need a place to stay. The Smythe's have offered their home, if you wish?” The boy nodded and the doctor kept on talking. “All right then. As you will be taking care of him, you will both need to know what is going on, so I'm going to go through what I have just told the patient.” Sebastian frowned at the way he talked to the boy, but he didn't exactly have a name they could use.
“From what we can see, you have post-traumatic amnesia, heavy with retrograde amnesia. It's different for every person, and if there had only been the head injury you came in with, you probably wouldn't have forgotten more than a few seconds. The problem was the tumor, as we have no idea how long you've had it, or how long it was pressing on your nerves. This makes it very hard to say if the memories will come back or not. For now, it seems like your memories are gone, but that you remember three different kind of things. First is things you learned early on, and you remember that like muscle memory in a way. Like, you have no problem speaking English, or using the eating utensils, because you have done so for most of your life. Second is general information. You knew at once what amnesia was, or a tumor, or a doctor. Third is things you have not necessary learned early in life, but done so much that in the same way it's muscle memory. You knew how to work the iPhone and the laptop, for example.
Now, it's hard to say what would happen if you met someone who knows you, if you would recognize them even if you can't remember them now. If you don't get your memories back, you probably won't recognize them by sight, but you might recognize them by smell or sound. Our brain catalogs things in a different way then we think, and even though we don't think about it much, smell and sound can bring the brain back to certain memories much faster than sight. What I would recommend is to try new things every day, it's amazing what we remember in the subconscious, and you might find out things about your life, things you didn't know you could do. For example, you should try listening to or speaking different languages, or different hobbies, or subjects for school, like math and the like. Seeing as you remember general information, you might very well remember things like that as well. We have called in a specialist, a psychiatrist, that will come and talk to you while you're here at least, which you will be for another week or so, as long as there is no complications.
Also, you should try to pick a name for yourself, at least a first name.”
The doctor took a deep breath, and looked over at the police officer. Serento pushed away from the wall and walked to the end of the bed before he started talking.
“You were found just across the state line of New York, and where you came from is hard to say, and the area will be vastly different depending on if you drove or not. We have been searching the area for a car, but have been coming up empty so far. If you drove, you could have come from all over the place, but for now we are looking particularly at missing persons in the states of New York, Pennsylvania and Ohio. You might have driven down from Canada, but as you accent doesn't hold a grain of Canadian, we see that as the least likely. We will continue searching for the car for a few more days, and if we can't find it, we will look more closely at the closest towns. The main problem is that it's weekend, and you might have been headed somewhere, so your parents might not miss you until Sunday evening, but as I said, we're keeping out eyes open.”
“Thank you, officer.” The boy's tone was soft and the high tones was a big contrast to the gravely officer, and all the people in the room relaxed just an infinite more.
A few minutes later, the officer, doctor and social worker all filed out of the room. Sebastian took the boy's hand in his, squeezing it in an effort to comfort. “This is my mother, Vivian. We were on out way to some relatives in Buffalo when we found you, she was over there when I was in here earlier.
“Hi, ma'am. Thank you for... everything. ” The boy stretched out his hand, and his mother took his in both of her own.
“It was my pleasure, mon cher, we are just glad that we were able to help. How do you feel?”
“A little numb, but relieved that I have somewhere to go.” He smiled at them shyly.
“We are glad to have you. We” she was broken off by her cellphone ringing in her pocket, and she excused herself, closing the door after her. Sebastian wasn't sure, but it looked like the boy relaxed just a little more when the two of them were alone, and it brought a smile the normally so cocky lips.
“We really are glad to have you. Do you want me to tell you about the family?” The boy nodded, and Sebastian went on. “Well, there's my dad, Richard, who's a lawyer. My mum, Vivian,” he gestured to the door “runs a big fashion company from Paris mostly. I have two older siblings, both in college in New York; my sister Katherine is going to medical school and my brother Oliver is studying political science.”
“And you?” The boy looked at him in interest, and Sebastian gave him another smile.
“Oh, I just finished my freshman year in high school.” Sebastian decided against telling the boy anything about the choice between Paris and New York. He knew that all of this would greatly affect any plans they would make, and there was no reason for the boy to feel like they were changing their lives for him. Sebastian looked at the boy, who was smiling carefully at him, before he decided to jump in with a question that had been bugging him for some time.
“I have to ask, I was kinda expecting you to freak out, but you're so calm.”
The boy snorted and looked a little wry. “You weren't here early this morning. I had a complete melt down, cried and screamed and was generally a pain in the ass for the staff. I guess I got it out of my system, there's no use in freaking out, and the faster I get used to this life, the better for myself.”
“Wow, that is impressive. Wish I had seen the breakdown though.” He gave the boy a crooked smile, and got a wicked one back.
“Oh, it was epic. I threw things.” They laughed, and Sebastian could feel something lifting in him. He didn't meet many people who a) could keep up with him and b) could stand him for longer periods of time, but this boy seemed to get Sebastian, even without his memory.
“So, what do you say to making a list over all the things you want to try out to figure out if you know?” Sebastian drew out a notebook from his bag, and took the pen from the night table next to the bed.
“Yes, that's a great idea, let’s do that.” The boy sat up, and Sebastian found a blank page, writing on the top: What can I do?
“Well, if we take the good doctor’s advice, we should probably add every language in existence here, so let’s just write them down as we figure them out instead of trying to remember them all now.” Sebastian split the page in two with a simple line, and wrote languages on the right side. “We can check out one of them now, if you want, I speak French.”
“You do? Is that where your mother is from? France?” They boy seemed to perk up a little by this news.
“Yes, she was born and raised there, in a small city. She met my father when she came to the states to study fashion, and they married after two years together. We have lived in Paris the last year, and I learned to speak French when I was four years old. Do you understand what I just said?” Sebastian looked at the boy with raised eyebrows, waiting for any indignation that he had understood. He got a rather clear one.
“I understood perfectly. Do you have other family in France?”
The boy seemed just as shocked as Sebastian, and after a few seconds, Sebastian let out a little laugh.
“Well, seems like you speak fluent French then. I have no idea why or how, but either you've been a lot in France, or one or both of your parents are probably French.”
They continued to work on the list throughout the day. The specialist that was coming would show up Sunday morning, so Sebastian got to stay there most of Saturday. Vivian was in and out of the room, taking calls to make sure the boy got to come with them, and for the most part just looked at the two boys. Sebastian was a popular boy, but he had always had problems getting real friends, and yet he seemed to connect to this boy so easily. It was heartwarming for a mother to see, and to hear her son’s laugh more times in one day than she had over the last year was wonderful.
When Sebastian was chased out of the room Saturday evening, he left the notebook with the boy, and the list looked like this:
What do I know?
French - yes
They had been goofing around a lot, and half of the things on there were a joke, but they figured they could try it.
Sunday came, and Sebastian and Vivian were set for the hospital again. It was the first time Sebastian had slept in a little over 30 hours, so he had been out like a light when they had gone home the night before, but now he was up and full of energy. He was looking forward to see the boy again, though he knew he couldn't stay there all day; the specialist was coming in today.
When they showed up at the hospital door a little after ten, it was closed, and they knocked softly on the door. Before they could open it a women was standing in the door, looking at them with raised eyebrows.
“Oh, sorry, are you the specialist?”
“Yes, I am. And you are?”
“The people that found him, and we're going to be his foster family. We didn't know you were here, we will just come back in a few hours?” Vivian raised her eyebrows in question of the time, and the therapist nodded.
“We're taking a break at about 12, so you can come back then.”
When they came back, the door was open, and the boy was sitting in the bed, a piece of paper in his hands. He looked up when they walked in, and his face lit up in a smile.
“Hi, did you have a good night? And how was the therapist?”
The boy looked down at the paper in his hands again before he looked at Sebastian, who had claimed his usual seat. “Yeah, it was first proper sleep I've had, it was nice. And she was nice, she liked our list. ” His smile widened a little. “Told me that we should keep working on it, the two of us.” Sebastian nodded with a smile of his own. “She also told me to pick a name, and I finally have.”
He looked up at them both, before seemingly steeling himself. “Hi, my name is Alexander Clarkson. You can call me Alex.”
“How did you pick the name?” Sebastian looked at the boy, Alex, curiously.
“Well, it just popped into my head. I don't know why, but it just felt right, so I went with it.”
The rest of the day was a lot of sitting around for Sebastian, whilst Alex had the therapist with him, but he didn't mind all that much; the few hours he got in between was more than worth it.
It was night to Monday, and it was a quiet night at the police station in Buffalo. The night shift was for the main part sleeping on the couches in the break room, getting any sleep they could whilst it was calm. One of the newbies was finishing up some paperwork, and was waiting for the printer when a fax came through. He picked up the paper curiously, and looked at the missing child poster. It was a 17 year old boy, who had gone missing from Westerville. He had never seen the boy in the picture, but he went out to the pin board to hang it there. It should be faxed on to the local hospitals, but he had no idea where to even start looking for those fax numbers, and he didn't want to wake anyone up, so he put up a mental reminder to himself to fix it later.
Just as he tacked the fax on the board, the phone rang, and only seconds later the police house was in full chaos; there had been a shooting outside of the city, with shooters and victims in high numbers. In the chaos, the fax fell down on the floor and was trampled. In the morning, when the cleaning staff started working, the very important fax that would have changed more than one life was thrown out in the garbage, the face of Kurt Hummel balled up, wet and dirty.