Archive of Our Own ^beta

Frank Fontaine was not a babysitter. There were many good reasons why he wasn’t, would never be, and likely shouldn’t ever be entrusted with the life of even a baby doll. And yet, here he was, leading his genetically modified supersoldier that looked and acted like a 12 year old. Those stupid scientists, deciding on renovating their lab, and then saying that Frank needed to take the stupid kid because of how suspicious they’d look with a kid they couldn’t hide, but Frank had an apartment big enough to hide it with ease. Sure, yeah, but he also didn’t like kids.

Jack stopped a moment to yawn in the middle of the main hallway of Olympus Heights, about halfway to the elevator that led up to Frank’s tranquility garden, and then to the apartment. Of course he’d yawn, it was 3 in the morning, but that didn’t stop the businessman from yanking the kid’s wrist.

“C’mon, brat. We ain’t got time to stop an’ dilly dally.” Frank growled.

“Mr. Fontaine, I’m tired.” Jack whined, rather softly. “When will I go back to bed?”

“When we get to where we’re supposed to be.” The man snarled a little, tired and cranky. “Which means, we keep moving.” Jack yawned again, but started to follow again with a tired sigh.

When they entered the elevator and it began to move, Frank let go of Jack’s wrist, and the kid sat down.

“You better not be goin’ to sleep on me.” The kid looked up to the man with tired eyes that were still just as expressive and contagious as the last time they met.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Fontaine, but it’s hard to keep my eyes open.” He said, innocently as could be. Frank just rolled his eyes and waited for the elevator to reach the top.

“Alright, kid, get up.” Frank nudged Jack’s side with his foot when the doors opened, but he didn’t move. With a huff and eye roll, the businessman knelt down to the sleeping kid’s level. “Hey, get up.” He repeated, shaking Jack’s shoulder, but Jack didn’t wake. With a groan, Frank grabbed the kid’s arm and tried to drag him along. To his surprise, the supersoldier didn’t wake, just fell over a little. But dragging the kid wouldn’t work, because he was tall for his artificial age. So, he picked the kid up, and walked on to his apartment in a tired manner.

“You’re a heavy kid.” Frank huffed out as he walked by the garden of sand and rocks in front of his front door. Jack’s head rested on his shoulder, sleeping quite soundly. It almost awoke a long forgotten emotion in Frank, but he shoved it further down than it ever had been before it could even dare surface.

Instead, he focused on struggling to figure out how to open his door, as he had been using both his arms to hold the tall, and somewhat muscular, kid. It had to have taken him about fifteen minutes (or more like just a minute, Frank was a rather impatient man) to figure it out. Once inside, he beelined for his bedroom, because he didn’t have a spare. Halfway there, though, the telephone began to ring.

Frank turned around and went to his phone, setting Jack on his floor to answer. He already knew who it would be, even if he couldn’t bother to remember the name.

“Hey, you kept the cameras off like I asked you to?” He said when he brought the phone up to his face.

“Yeah,” The voice on the other side said, “So about this payment?”

“Fontaine Fisheries, midnight tomorrow. Keep your mouth shut. Cash only, don’t deposit it all at once.” Frank lied through his teeth. He had no plans on paying this schmuck, he knew too much. And too much wasn’t a lot, but it was still enough to raise suspicions.

“10,000 dollars, right?”

“I didn’t say 10,000. I said 5,000 bucks. Don’t be puttin’ prices in my mouth, you ain’t gonna fool me.”

“You said 10,000.” The schmuck protested. “This ain’t a cheap job, Fontaine. Ryan catches me, I’m dead.” The businessman almost laughed, because he didn’t need to worry about Ryan catching him. Death was already guaranteed.

“Fine, I’ll meet you halfway, I need to get to bed.” No use in arguing over money that wouldn’t change hands, Frank decided. “Thanks for the work, you’ll find the briefcase of cash in the basement, by the freezers.” He didn’t give the guy a chance to respond before he hung up and breathed out a long breath, looking back down to Jack, who was still asleep. Again, he picked the kid up, and got back to walking to his room.

Once in his room, Frank finally realized that he lacked any furniture for the kid to sleep on, aside from his own bed. He wasn’t about to let him sleep on the floor, supersoldiers need to be kept healthy after all. But Frank wasn’t about to sleep on the floor, either, because he was pretentious and just didn’t want to. Well, he just laid Jack on one side of the bed, the kid barely moving when he was set down, and went to change into his fine silk pajamas. Frank settled into his side of the bed, putting a pillow to act as a barrier between himself and the kid, and tried to get some sleep.

~~~

Jack was the first to wake. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, sitting up from where he was laid just a few hours earlier. Looking around the room, he could just barely remember walking down strange hallways and corridors to reach an elevator in one of the biggest rooms Jack had ever seen. This must have been the place Mr. Fontaine was talking about when Jack had been becoming too tired to walk further. Did he carry Jack here? He must’ve, because he could just barely remember sitting down in the elevator.

The kid spotted the open bedroom door, and was put on edge. Someone must have come to take him for testing, and he wouldn’t wake up again. Jack swung his legs off the bed, hesitating a little before getting up and heading out of the room.

Poking his head out to look around, Jack saw a further alien environment. The walls were colorful and decorated, the ceiling was high, the floors were polished wood, and large glass windows looked out to... somewhere Jack had never seen before. He approached the glass, a soft “woah” escaping him as he looked out upon a landscape he’d never seen and couldn’t comprehend. Many curiosities brewed in his head as he saw bustling Rapture and casual oceanic animals. He wondered deeply what they all were, what they all did, how they felt, how they smelled, their purposes for existing.

The supersoldier must have been staring for a while, because he hadn’t heard Frank come up behind him.

“What are you doing?” Frank’s voice made Jack jump and whip around.

“I-I’m sorry.” Jack stuttered out. “I thought, uhm, someone came to get me, but I slept through it. I, uh, I came out to look for Mama Tenenbaum or Papa Suchong.”

“They ain’t here, kid.” Frank passed Jack, waving him off.

“What?”

“I said they ain’t here. This is my apartment, kid, not theirs. And I don’t share it with no one.”

“What’s an apartment?” Frank stopped, looking back to the kid like he was the dumbest thing he’d seen in a science museum.

“It’s a type of living quarters.” Frank responded, shaking his head and continuing. Jack hurried to follow.

“Like my room?”

“Yeah, but that kinda room is usually just part of it.” Jack continued to look around as they walked.

“Your room is very big.” He wandered up to the stuffed and mounted polar bear, while Frank continued down the stairs. “What is this?” The kid asked before the man got too far, though.

“That’s a polar bear. If it was still alive, it’d tear you in half before ya could blink.” The man smirked, hoping to scare Jack a little. But the kid just looked more interested and curious.

“Is that why it’s so big?” Jack asked softly, clearly very amazed.

Frank was a bit disappointed, but said, “Yeah. And ‘cause it lives in the arctic. You know what the arctic is?” Jack looked to Frank and shook his head. “You know what the globe is?” Again, Jack shook his head. “Looks like you’ve got a lot to learn.” The kid lit up, and ran over to Frank, eager to learn. “But that’s for after breakfast.”

“What are we having for breakfast?” Jack asked, moving in to hold Frank’s hand, who quickly pulled away.

“I dunno, cereal, oatmeal, cream of wheat. Get yourself a bowl, choose what you want.”

“That’s a lot... And I can just choose?”

“Kid, you’re supposed to be an optimized listener. Did I not just say that?”

“Oh, uhm... Yes, you did, Mr. Fontaine. I’m sorry.”

Frank nodded. "Thought so," he said, "don't make me repeat myself. I don't like it when people make me do that."

"Yes, sorry, Mr. Fontaine." Jack lowered his gaze, putting his hands behind his back.

"Just get in the kitchen, kid, I've got things to do today." The kid complied, passing the businessman on the way, who followed him in. Frank got down two bowls, and, as Jack watched, opened the pantry door.

"Choose one." Frank said, beckoning Jack over demandingly. The kid looked over everything from where he stood, but he had no idea what to choose. He never had such a choice before, it was normally up to the scientists.

"I ain't got all day, what do you want?" Frank groaned.

"Uh, I'm not sure, Mr. Fontaine."

"Just grab one, kid, I've got a schedule." Jack looked over the boxes again, but the kid just wasn't used to choices. He felt so nervous, far more than he'd normally feel. But Frank finally was fed up, though it hadn't been long at all, and yanked a box of cereal from the pantry, shoving it into Jack's arms.

"There! Now was that so hard?" He snarled.

"Uhm. Yes, sir, it was." Frank blinked in surprise. Not only had he not expected an answer at all, but much less a truthful, not sarcastic one.

"Fine. That's your breakfast for as long as you're here. Now, watch how I make my bowl." He grabbed his own box, heading over to the bowls. Jack followed him like a puppy, mirroring as closely as he could how Frank made his bowl of cereal. Once done, he looked proud of himself, looking to the adult for some possible praise that he didn't really expect to receive. Instead, the man just glanced down at him, then left to go work. Jack happily followed like a puppy that Frank could equate to a golden retriever.

The Bronx man ate as he walked, heading back to his room. Jack tried his best to copy, but he caused the both of them to jump in concern when the boy's foot got caught on the lip of a step, causing him to trip. The supersoldier fell to the floor, his bowl crashing down, yet not shattering, spilling milk and cereal all over the grand staircase. Some splash hit the legs of Fontaine, who looked back in concern.

Jack tried desperately to grab each piece of cereal and every drop of milk, returning what he could to the bowl. Frank looked down to him, trying to decide what to do with the distressed child trying to right an accident caused by a nature that was centered around pleasing the adults around him.

"Stop, stop," Frank finally said, stepping around the mess and reaching down to grab the child's arm, while trying to keep his own bowl from spilling. Jack looked up to him, a pleading look, and Frank shook his head. "That ain't how you clean that up, kid. C'mon, I guess I'll show you."

Jack was hesitant, but followed Frank back downstairs and to the kitchen. He set the bowl on the counter, then turned to the kid.

"Step one, clean yourself up. It'll make you feel a bit better." He got a dish towel, and began to dab the milk and cereal off of Jack's shirt. Jack sniffled a little, looking up to Frank with wide, teary eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Fontaine." He barely muttered, sounding like he had a lump in his throat. Frank cursed himself mentally as the emotions he had previously shoved down and suppressed managed to bubble to the surface.

"Kid, hey, don't cry now. Just an accident, bowl ain't broken. Get you cleaned up, clean up that mess, we'll be on our way." Frank tried to assure him. "Look, there, you're, uh, sorta cleaned up. We'll get you a new shirt in a second." Frank stood up. Seeing the kid so close to tears, it made him nearly fall to tears, too. This wasn't a cathartic kind of pain that the Bronx normally took pleasure in, this was just… sad. Ugh, empathy…

Frank set the dish towel on the counter, and picked Jack up. He took him back to the bedroom. There, Frank set the kid down, and went over to a small suitcase that Tenenbaum snuck to him a few nights before.

"Take off that shirt." Frank said, unlatching the suitcase, still trying not to feel a thing as Jack sniffled and whimpered behind him.

"What?" Jack managed in confusion.

"Would you kindly?" Frank added. The supersoldier seemed to resist a bit, but his brain couldn't resist obeying. Frank turned around with a fresh shirt in hand, to a fearful looking Jack just getting the dirty one off over his head. The businessman took it when he could, and offered the clean one. Jack seemed far too confused.

"Put this on, kid, it's clean."

"You're supposed to-to put on a-a new shirt?" Why didn't Suchong listen to Frank when he had requested less expressive eyes.

"Just put it on please." Jack took the hint, picking up on the slightly pleading tone the man was trying to hide, and took the shirt, slipping it on over his head.

"There," Frank put his hands on his hips, "that's better now, ain't it? Run on downstairs, I'll be there in a moment- oh, but don't actually run." Jack nodded, and went out the bedroom door, which was shut behind him. He stopped a moment, before following the instructions and heading back downstairs.

Reaching the bottom of the staircase, Jack looked at the slowly drying mess he had made. He really didn't want to upset Frank, so he went back to the kitchen and grabbed the dish towel. Reaching the stairs once again, Jack stopped to evaluate the scene.

He wanted to start from the nearest current point, but that wouldn't be efficient. As Jack would go on, he'd just be pushing the mess back onto the lower steps, meaning he'd just be cleaning them again. That was inefficient. So, he started at the top step that the mess reached, attempting to wipe up each and every drop of milk. Jack just didn’t realize how quickly the dish towel he was using became too soaked to gather anything more, and thus was just pushing the spill around.

“Kid, what’re doing?” Frank came onto the top step, buttoning up his dress shirt.

“Oh, uhm... I’m cleaning up, sir.” Jack said, looking up.

“You’re just pushin’ it around now. You know what? Jus’- go get yourself a new bowl, I’ll handle the mess.”

“Are you sure, Mr. Fontaine?”

“Yeah, kid, I’m sure. Go on, go eat.” Frank took a few steps down, waving off Jack. The kid stood up and walked downstairs, but glaced back up at the businessman, who gave him an annoyed look. “Go on,” He repeated, “I’ve got the mess.” The Bronx picked up the soaked dish towel, and turned around, heading upstairs and to the other side of the hallway than his room. Jack continued to watch curiously, until the man disappeared, then retreated to the kitchen.

Frank came back down, a few real towels in his hands. He got on his hands and knees, the Bronx never was afraid of doing so, and began to properly clean up the mess. He laid down the towels, pressing them in place, and picking up what the kid had missed. Once done with that, Frank stood up, picking up the bowl that had been the cause of this mess, and went to greet Jack in the kitchen.

The kid had followed what he saw the first time well, and was waiting for the adult to enter. Frank raised an eyebrow, as it was clear Jack hadn’t touched his cereal- the spoon was still on top.

“What?” Frank scoffed. “You waitin’ for me to give you permission to eat?”

“Yes, sir.” The Bronx nearly choked on his breath.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m not supposed to eat without Momma Tenenbaum or Papa Suchong around to give me the ok.” Jack said, looking shy.

“Kid, this ain’t the lab. This is my apartment, go ahead and eat when you make yourself the food.” Frank looked the kid up and down, confused.

“I can?”

“Uh, yeah.” The business man said. “This look like that lab those eggheads work in?” Jack took a moment to look around.

“No, sir.” He said after a moment, “It’s a lot more colorful.”

“That was sarcasm, I know it ain’t.”

“What’s sarcasm?” Frank thought for a moment.

“I’m not sure how to explain it. Don’t worry about it, kid, you’ll pick it up, I’m sure.” Jack nodded, then took a bite of his cereal. Frank grabbed his own bowl, disappointed about how soggy it now was, but he wasn’t about to waste it. Then he looked back to the kid.

“You eat here in the kitchen.” Frank said, heading to the door. “I don’t want another spill on my staircase. When you’re finished, wash the bowl out at the sink, put it in there, then come up to my room, got it?”

“Yes, sir!” Jack nodded at the instructions, taking another spoonful of cereal.

“Good. From now on, you only eat down here, in the kitchen, understand?”

“Understood, sir.” Frank nodded at the kid’s compliance, turning and leaving him behind. Finally, he’d have a good break from Jack, and get some work done as he ate. At least it was a lighter load, the businessman made sure to have done all the important and large work throughout the week before, excusing it as him wanting to take a week for himself. It’d been a good while, after all, so everyone believed it. At least on the surface level. And that meant, hopefully, that no one would bother him.

Except the one person that had a key to his humble, expensive abode.

“Frank, why the hell is there a child in your kitchen?!” Reggie slammed open the bedroom door, causing the Bronx to jump. Jack had followed like a puppy, finished with his breakfast and now curious about this new stranger. “Since when did you have a kid?!”

“Hey, hey, Reggie, settle down, let me explain. It ain’t my kid, he’s Ryan’s. Got that hooker I was talking about to have him, and those eggheads at the labs have been working some real good magic. Guess how old he is.” Frank gave a sly smile that dripped with the confidence and smugness Reggie was pretty sure he was born with.

Reggie took a good look at the kid, then looked to his childhood friend. He knew that smile. He wanted to say 10, but that smile just screamed that no, that wasn’t right. It had to be something outrageous, surely.

“Is he five?” Reggie thought he was lowballing it. Which is why he was a bit concerned when Frank laughed.

“Try not even one!” The Bronx barked in glee. “That Chinaman sure knows what he’s doin’ with ADAM. He and Tenenbaum did that to a kid who ain’t even one year old!”

“Frank, I know this plan you’ve got, and I am willing to help you out, but... Ain’t this way too far?” Reggie looked down to the kid, who looked up to him curiously.

“Oh, what’s he gonna do? Hell, many people struggle with figuring out what their purpose is in this world. His is just already decided for him.” Frank rolled his eyes.

“What all is this Suchong guy doing to this kid? And does he have a name?”

“Jack, I think. And you know, just what I’m paying him to do to the kid.”

“Frank, you know that that ain’t what I meant. I said what all, that means be specific, baldy.”

“Fine,” Frank gave him a slight sneer. “I ordered a large age up with a side of extreme body modification to make him an optimal super soldier and a medium mental engineering to have specific commands he can’t go against.”

“And?” Reggie raised an eyebrow.

“Alright, I did ask the waiter to sprinkle some less expressive eyes in there.”

“Ah, of course.”

Jack looked between the men as he was spoken about. It wasn’t something foreign to him, Papa Suchong did it with Momma Tenenbaum all the time. But it did make him feel a bit lonely. The kid looked around curiously, maybe there was a puzzle he was supposed to do or a workout to try. But he didn’t really see anything. Surely that wasn't it, there had to be something, there was always something. Momma Tenenbaum always was giving him new puzzles to do for the sake of “keeping his mind sharp.”

The supersoldier slipped away unnoticed, sneaking down the hall to the other side of the stairs. The first thing he saw was interesting, because it was some shelves of bottles. Perhaps those were what the puzzle was. They were all dark, their shapes and sizes never really matching each other, and their labels colorful or bland. It caught Jack’s eye well, and he approached, looking over every inch of it that he could see. There had to be a puzzle there.

Jack stepped back to get an even better look at the whole picture. Perhaps it was sorting related, that wasn’t something that he hadn’t done before. He’d done plenty of sorting puzzles, and those were his favorite! Once everything was all neatly sorted, it looked so satisfying! He loved it!

He took a few bottles from the shelf he was eye level with, placing them on the weird counter table parallel with it. To be efficient, he started his sorted there. The kid thought for a moment, wondering if it would be color related, size related, or related to weight. So, Jack looked back again, taking count of all the labels of similar colors, then size. Weight would be difficult to determine, but of the bottles he had now, it seemed weight would be related to size and shape. That was alright. Alright, Jack decided he’d sort by both size and color. Then, he’d be covering two birds with one stone, and he’d complete the puzzle! ... Hey, was two birds with one stone a kind of sarcasm, like Mr. Fontaine said? Hm, that’s a question the kid would save for later.

So Jack got to sorting, placing each bottle on the counter with others that had labels of similar colors, until he emptied each shelf that he could reach. He looked to the ones that towered above him, and huffed. A challenge? In his sorting puzzle? It’s more likely than you think, and Jack wasn’t fond. He wanted to sort, not climb! Oh well, it was part of the puzzle.

Jack put his foot on a shelf, testing how it’d take his weight a little before grabbing ahold of the tallest shelf he could reach and heaving himself up. The kid reached up further, grabbing a bottle the best he could, but in his attempt to safely get down, he fell, the bottle shattering to the floor just as he hit it with a yell and thud.

Jack tried to blink the tears away, but he still sobbed a little as he sat up. He could hear the two men running towards him, and he felt ashamed that his near perfect puzzle score took a blunder. But the kid also felt sharp pain along the side of his body that faced the now broken bottle that accompanied him on the floor.

“Jesus Christ, what the hell are you doing?!” Frank shouted, and Jack sobbed some more, drawing some groans from the man. He and Reggie pulled him up and out of the wine mess, with the businessman grumbling about how the kid was an accident magnet.

“Frank, shut up, the kid’s hurt.” His right hand man shook his head.

“Argh, god, he is. C’mon, kid, to the bathroom.” Frank tried to urge Jack on, eyeing a large cut on his arm from the glass. But the kid just cried and stood there, his arm limp in the man’s grip. So Frank had to pick him up, trying to be careful of any glass that may be stuck.

Once out of the ear shot of his childhood friend, Frank began to hush the child in his arms, trying to calm him down.

“We’re gonna make it not hurt anymore,” He said, trying to be a calm and grounding voice, “It’s ok, alright? I ain’t mad, but you gotta calm down.” It was a lie, he was very, very angry. But that anger was swallowed by his feeling of wanting to cry, and dangit, he didn’t want to cry. So, calm it was, swallow the anger. Yeah, it was hard, but Frank just did not want to cry even more.

He set the sobbing kid on the sink, fetching a first aid kit from the cabinet.

“You really got quite a lotta tears, huh?” Frank tried to joke, but it didn’t land. “C’mon, lemme see here. Oh, this ain’t so bad. Nah, I got so many cuts like these when I was your age.” He wiped the blood and wine off Jack’s arm, keeping an eye out for any glass. The kid’s sobs didn’t calm down. “One time, I fell out of a tree. You ever seen a tree, kid? In, like, a story book or something? Hit my face on the way down, knocked a loose tooth right out, had a scar for a few years after that. ‘S gone now, but childhood’s just like that, y’know?”

Frank never considered himself good with kids, but he was starting to think himself better, now that Jack looked at him and began to stop sobbing so much. Perhaps talking was something better to focus on rather than pain, or it helped Jack to feel like he was safe. The kid still sniffled as his arm was wrapped in bandages, but it was better than sobbing.

“Yeah, the kids were all jealous of the scars I got. I was the cool kid when I was younger, always had fun stories to tell. Like the time I snuck onto the catwalk at the local theatre.” Frank continued, giving a bit of a chuckle, moving onto another cut. “Yep, ruined that show for fun. Turned off all the lights I could, then made a break for it. Didn’t even get caught, heh, but I got a few cool scars on my hands from that. Only one left is one right between my ring and pinky finger on my right hand. You wanna see?” Jack looked at him, then nodded a little. Frank held out his hand, his pinky and ring finger spread apart the best he could. The kid looked at the space, trying to spot a small, pale, raised line. It took him a moment before he could, and the kid looked up at the man with curiosity and, seemingly, pity. What were those eggheads teaching this kid?

“Mhm, right there. Tiny now, but still there.” The Bronx said, pulling his hand away and bandaging up the cut he had been cleaning. “What do you think about it?”

Jack seemed to stiffen a little, nervously. The kid shuffled a little, then shrugged.

“Ain’t feelin’ talkative right now?”

The kid shook his head.

“Alright,” Frank said, looking for another cut, but not finding one, “but you will have to tell me what you were doin’ with my alcohol at some point.”

Jack looked at the man, then looked away, seemingly trying to figure out the precise words to use. But he also looked confused, which made Frank sigh a little. He picked the kid up, then went back to the scene of the crime.

“Thanks for cleaning up for me, Reggie.” He said, setting Jack on the bar.

“Wow, you of all people got him to stop crying? Congrats, you’re not as bad with children as we thought.” Frank rolled his eyes, flicking his friend on the very large bicep.

“I’m just as surprised.”

“He say what he was doing?” Reggie looked to the kid quite curiously, but more softly than any look Frank had given him.

“No, but... I think I can gather what happened. Ugh, I should’ve listened to the list of things Tenenbaum told me about.” The Bronx sighed, looking to the kid as well. Nervously, Jack began to fiddle with his hands, looking down to his lap, before holding his hands to stop.

“Can he read?” The right hand man asked, turning his gaze down to Frank.

“I would think so. What, you think I should give him a book? ... Why the hell didn’t I think of that.”

Reggie chuckled, picking Jack up. “Probably,” he said, “because you’ve never even talked to a real kid since you an’ I were small. I’ll help you out in picking one he can read, I know the smut you like to engage in.”

“I may not be good with children, but I at least know he can’t have that.” Frank chuckled a little. “Try the library, I think I have a bookcase of books he could check out. I’ll put these back.” Reggie complied, carrying the kiddo off.

Once there, he didn’t let Jack down. The apartment of Frank Fontaine was no place for a child to snoop. Or a sex-repulsed asexual. So he held the child close, Reggie trying to keep the curious green eyes from looking over the titles of adult novels Frank seemed to hoard.

“Ah, here, you wanna read the dictionary?” Reggie joked when he found the section of non-fiction. It was mostly for when Frank wanted to change his identity for a bit, however it would still be some good reading for a curious child.

“I’ve already read the dictionary in my room.” Jack muttered.

“Oh, uh... Well, alright. How about... Ooohh, how about this? Irish mythos, does that sound interesting?” The man pulled the old leather bound book off the shelf, noting the bookmark a little more than halfway through. “Ah, it’s a big thing, ain’t it? Looks like Frank’s reading it, too, then you two could talk about it.” He put Jack down, and offered the book. It was taken, but the kid just looked at it, then looked up at Reggie.

“Do I have to write a paper about this?” The poor kid looked nervous, like an untrusting highschooler that knows when a teacher utters ‘there are only four questions for homework’ is a complete and utter lie.

“No, no, not at all!” Reggie assured him, yet again caught off guard. “It’s just for fun. You allowed to have fun?” Jack looked at him, unsure.

“I’m usually supposed to be testing all day. Puzzles, running, lifting, tests, learning... I guess that’s what’s fun for me.”

“Wow, that’s hella depressing. Ok, consider this a free day. You can be a kid! A proper kid! Read this for fun, skip over the boring parts, come in and find another book if you want. But! It has to be from this section, ok? The rest, those ain’t for children.”

Jack still looked at Reggie, very unsure. He seemed nervous, shifting his weight between his feet.

“I’m... not supposed to do any testing?” He asked, the kid’s voice tiny.

“Nah, no, not right now.”

“Those... bottles weren’t a test?” Jack sunk a little.

“No, they weren’t. Frank doesn’t have any puzzles for you. Uhm... But I could go and get you a puzzle, if you’d want.”

They stared at each other, Reggie in confusion, Jack in confusion. Actually, Reggie was concerned about the amount of confusion that was in the poor kid’s face. He looked like he was about to combust into flames.

“Do you like puzzles?” Reggie tried.

“I like sorting.” Well, that was something.

“You like sorting, hm? Alright, I think I can find something.” The tall man gave the small child- well, he seemed a bit big for the age he’d been aged up to- a pat on the head, then offered his hand to hold while returning to Frank. Jack was wary, but held it anyway and followed Reggie back to the bar. The businessman was still sorting the bottles into their proper places. The kid looked disappointed.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Fontaine.” Jack hung his head. The man looked over and just shook his head. “I just wanted to sort it. It... looked like a puzzle that Momma Tenenbaum gives me sometimes.”

“Kid, it’s already sorted.” Frank rolled his eyes. “Least expensive is on the bottom shelf, then it’s kinda expensive, and most expensive at the top.” Jack’s eyes widened, and he looked the shelf of bottles up and down, before lowering them in shame.

“I’m-” He started, but Frank held up a hand.

“Just read that book. What’d Reggie and you find? The one on Irish mythology?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a good one. Pretty interesting. Just don’t move the bookmark, ok?”

“Ok, sir.” Jack looked down to the book, then back up to Frank. The man didn’t notice, instead approaching Reggie.

“So, what initially brought you here?” He asked as the kid’s eyes tracked him.

“Oh, you know. I got a parcel. Addressed to you. Opened it up. I told you to stop having those sent to my apartment.” The businessman’s face flushed.

“Oh, uh... Look, Reggie, I thought I changed the address.” He tried. “I just, uh, I guess I forgot.”

“Maybe go to those special shops in person instead of calling on the phone. Could you do that for me? Please?”

“Yeah, uh... Y’know, I just don’t go very often, because, like... That’s kinda awkward for the cashier, y’know?”

“Then stop breaking your fancy toys just so you get an excuse to buy new ones.” Reggie elbowed Frank a little, who was flushed with embarrassment.

“Can we stop talking about this around a kid? Please?”

“Sure, but I came to drop it off. It’s wrapped, don’t worry.”

“Thanks, Reggie. You gonna stay for dinner, maybe?”

“Well,” Reggie hummed, glancing back to the kid, “I guess playing family for a day would be nice.” Frank gave him a glare, but his friend only smiled. “I think it’d be fun. Especially watching you try to babysit.” The Bronx rolled his eyes, and returned to his bedroom, Reggie and Jack following behind.

He went over to the suitcase of Jack’s clothing, pulling out another clean shirt and offering it to the kid. Reggie raised an eyebrow, looking over the contents of the suitcase as Jack changed his shirt.

“He got pajamas in there?” The tall man asked, crossing his arms.

“No, not really. Just these white shirts and sweatpants.” Frank shrugged.

“You’re kidding.”

“That’s what the eggheads gave me, Reggie.”

“Then I’ll get him some new clothes.”

“What?” The Bronx gave a confused look. “He’ll only wear it for a week, maybe two, at best before he grows out of it.”

“Then I’ll get a few sizes. Frank, that can’t be all he wears. Those ‘eggheads’ of yours ever heard of ethics?”

“No, Reggie. You’re one to talk, and to me at that.”

“Frank, I know we ain’t got clean track records, but kids at least deserve some form of mercy.”

Frank looked between his best friend and the child currently in his care. But he shook his head.

“This world has no mercy. None. Just people who’re too kind, and that gets them killed. Kids never been spared before us, an’ they never will be before us. You know what hesitation gets, you’ve seen it- we both have.”

Reggie sighed.

“Don’t remind me.” He said softly, looking away. “But this is different. I know what you want with him, but... It’s just a small thing.” Frank looked at him, then sighed himself.

“Alright, go ahead. Get him something nice, too, alright? Some kinda toy, if you want. If you must. This is his break, too, I guess.” His friend nodded, then turned to Jack and kneeled.

“You want a specific toy, Jack?” He asked. The kid looked up to him, and tilted his head. “Like, uh, a teddy bear, or a train, maybe a jigsaw puzzle?”

“Is that a sorting puzzle type?” The kid asked. Reggie nodded, so Jack nodded. The man stood up, giving his friend’s bald head a good pat, drawing an annoyed huff, and headed off. Frank looked back to Jack.

“How do you like my friend?” He asked.

“He’s a very nice man.” Jack said. “I’m sorry for causing so much trouble today.”

“Don’t worry, kid, there’s still a lot of time in the day. Probably won’t cause much more. Especially now that you’ve got something to read.”

~~~

The kid was quite quiet for the rest of the day, busy with either reading or doing the jigsaw puzzle with Reggie, while Frank worked. Occasionally, the bald man looked over, and he couldn’t help but smile when saw them. He had to wonder why his friend never decided to settle down and have a family, he’d be a great family man.

Frank glanced up one more time to see Jack putting the last piece in the puzzle on the floor, and he, together with Reggie, quietly cheered on the completion of the puzzle.

“You know what that means?” The businessman said, glancing up at the clock on the wall. Jack whipped his head over to look, while Reggie raised an eyebrow. “I’d say it’s time for dinner.”

“Oh,” Reggie also looked to the clock, “6:34, guess it is. Got anything in mind, Jack?” The kid looked at the large man and shrugged. “You wanna help?” That got the kid more excited, and he nodded fast.

Frank got up, ushering his friend and the kid to get up and come along too. The group of men went down to the kitchen. The dinner they decided to make was, of course, quite expensive, and Jack was fascinated every step of the way. It broke Reggie’s heart a little, and made Frank’s pea-sized stone one ping a little, when Jack kept asking what each thing was, then expressed how he never had anything like the fancy steaks before. Not even a chemsedborgar (jeezums what did I just spell). But it did amuse both men when the kid tried to figure out how to eat it, and proceeded to stab the steak with his knife and eat it off of there. It made Jack smile and giggle to see the men chuckle.

After a bit of banter over dinner, even if Jack was too lost to participate sometimes, the kid yawned a bit, much to the men’s surprise.

“Hey, kid, what’re you doin’?” Frank asked in a playful manner. He didn’t expect Jack to immediately look guilty and nervous. “No, no, I don’t mean it like that.”

“Sorry, sir. I’m just getting tired.”

“Tired?” Reggie echoed. “It’s only almost 8. You wanna stay up with the adults?” Jack hummed in consideration, but yawned before he could answer. “Ah, guess not. Are you full yet?”

“A little.” The kid answered, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand.

“Ah, don’t worry about finishing.” Frank stood up. “You wanna go to bed?”

“Uhu.”

“You wanna wear those new pajamas ol’ Reggie got you today?”

“Yeah!”