Chapter Text
Sanford watched as the three tumbled beautifully onto the desert, their lovely scuffle leaving them covered in fine, itchy layers of sand. Both adults seeming possessed by strings tuned to Hank's favor, Christoff and Hofnarr both moved their hands under little Wimbleton's head to brace them from the fall. Now that they all laid almost completely still on the ground, Sanford sat faithfully next to them all, waiting for them to stir.
In a soft bed of fine sand laid an exhausted Christoff, panting tiredly underneath the two smaller grunts. Their day of play had finally gotten to him (mind you, it was high time for him to be asleep), and he was too tired to move. "Ooof."
"Ouchie," Hank agreed, rubbing their head as they sat up. They reached over to hold one of Mr. Jeb's hands in both of their own, patting the back of his hand to get him to move. Complying, Christoff sat up next to Hank, giving him a pat on the head as wordless thanks.
"Gotcha," Hofnarr repeated obstinately when all three regained footing.
By his side, Jebediah nodded. "You got us," he relented, sounding annoyed. He began dusting himself off to the best of his abilities. "Now, Doctor, that wasn't very fair."
"Lol."
An exasperated Jeb trudged forwards and shook the doctor by his smock. The grin that threatened to break his stony gaze at the scientist gave his true emotion away. "Tee, in what world do you tag your own teammate?!" He demanded.
"My world," replied sly Dr. Hofnarr, who took to grinning shyly at Mr. Christoff. "That's where. Are you alright, Hank? Can I pick you up? I want to look at your head."
"Are you guys okay?" Sanford also asked, only now taking the chance to pipe up. Deimos approached just in time to watch Hank be plucked up like a puppy.
"I'm fine," Hank pouted, who let themselves be picked up nonetheless. "Y'all protected me."
"And did that hurt?" The scientist asked. He turned them around in his hands fretfully, lifting their head covering with a finger. The linen underneath stood out to him a dirty white. The bandages needed changing, but otherwise, Hank was as fine as they claimed.
"No. It felt nice." Hank felt Hofnarr's hand slip out from under their bandana.
"Good. You two head back now, yeah? Now, Jeb, hold Hank for me."
With Jebediah holding Hank under an invisible arm, Dr. Hofnarr turned to the pair. "Now, to answer your question, Sanford, I am perfectly fine…."
Something told Sanford to take a few steps back. Perhaps it was how Hofnarr reared up, his hands moving from his sides to in front of his chest.
"In fact, so fine…." Hofnarr pronounced slowly, stepping forward.
"Deimos, run," Sanford hissed, taking more steps backward. The other only giggled in response, jutting his head as if to challenge the doctor. "Deimos!"
"Wait!" Deimos giggled, staring at Dr. Hofnarr. "I wanna see…."
"...as to end this game once and for all!" Hofnarr declared, causing the two boys to giggle and scamper away, Sanford making it farther than Deimos. The adult ran after the two, targeting them now that their little "two-man unit" arrangement was left forgotten. Alas, Deimos ran fast, but he was not wont to take extreme measures to win as Hofnarr was. Hofnarr leaped forward and let his hand brush Deimos' back, once again barrelling face-first into the desert. The small grunt gasped aloud, and his footsteps slowed, prompting Sanford to turn.
"D-Deimos…?" Sanford whispered. Whipping around to watch the scene, Sanford looked on in horror as Deimos dropped to his knees. He reached out a desperate hand, yelling, "Noooo! Deimos!"
"Go on without me, Sanfoooord!" Deimos despaired, flopping onto his stomach and rolling all over the sand. "Waaaah!"
"Oh, no, Deimos, please don't do that!" Hofnarr wailed helplessly, crawling forwards on his belly.
Sanford panted hard through his mouth, watching as Deimos began burying himself in the sand for some reason. "I'll win for you, Dee," he whispered, realizing what his friend was doing.
Using Deimos' theatrics as a distraction, Sanford took to sprinting faster away from the mad scientist. Noticing, Hofnarr gasped and turned away from Deimos' little self-burial to chase after the older boy. For a moment, the doctor even ran on all fours before eventually picking himself up and sprinting as well.
"Don't you dare tag Sanford!" Deimos warned as if that would do anything, shaking off the remains of his funeral and running closely behind Hofnarr.
"Oh, I'm gonna!" Hofnarr hollered back. He turned to watch where Sanford ran; the smile on his face wiped well clean. "Ah, wh— Hay! Wait! Sanford, go back to everyone else!"
The boy stared ahead at the vast expanse of desert before him, realizing his mistake. "I'm going back," Sanford shouted, "but don't tag me!"
"I won't," the doctor vowed, "but then I will! Haha!"
Unlike Hank, Sanford could not make a sharp turn back to the rest of the orphanage body. He made a huge curve towards the main fray and soon found himself bolting past the other orphans, Mr. Abram, the trailer, and the truck next to it. He ran from the scientist…
~
... only to be caught by different hands, smaller but equally rough.
"....Huh?"
Sanford stilled in this person's grasp, his blood running cold. The grunt in front of them was tall, a grownup. Dr. Hofnarr was definitely behind him, unless he had crazy teleportation up his smock, too. Mr. Christoff hadn't really moved the last time he saw him and Hank. He had passed Mr. Abram earlier, he remembered. So who…?
His mind wandered to horrible places, to images of this stranger taking him there.
'Maybe it's Dr. Hofnarr,' he pleaded with his mind. 'I gotta check, I gotta… who, who…'
The sun had set moments ago, and he had to remove his sunglasses to tell. Sweat beading his brow fell into his vision, misting it, and the resulting fogginess in his internal eyes only prompted tears to well up and out of his facial cross. He breathed harder as his vision blurred further, his chest rising and falling per second.
'Who…? Who?!'
Sanford screamed, this time in pure terror, howling and wriggling from the strange hold. He took a turn tumbling back into the desert, sobbing and panting while sprawled onto the sand. The stranger followed suit, crawling forward on their knees.
"Sanford, Sanford! It's me! Oh, my God, I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… please, please be okay…."
Only then did he think to fully regard the stranger before him, lifting his vision to glare back at…
~
"Miss Eri!" Sanford wondered aloud, picking himself up. "H-How… How'd you get here?"
The staff member had been knelt down next to him and now stood as well, relieved little breaths fogging her glasses. She regarded the scared child carefully through her mismatched lenses, reaching out with a hand.
"Sanford... I'm sorry I scared you…."
Her rough hand gently brushed a lock of hair that had escaped his silk, tucking it back into his head covering. "Are you okay?"
His voice trembled still, recovering slowly from his little shock. "Yeah. I'm sorry... f-for yelling..."
"No need to apologize for that," she chirruped softly, still stroking his head. "Did you have fun? When… when I wasn't here?"
"Mmhmm," hummed Sanford, his voice still weak. He gratefully took in a sharp, shaky breath before he flung his hands around the engineer, sniffling.
"Oh, Sanford," she cooed, hugging him back. As she did, she dusted the wilderness from his smock, then held him tighter. "I'm so, so sorry for scaring you…."
"It's okay," the boy croaked, nuzzling into the embrace. "I'm so glad it's you… I thought you were a… I-I thought you were a bad gu-u-uy..."
He took comfort even in the layers of armor the woman wore, crying into the smock that surmounted them all. From behind them approached a fuming Deimos and an equally-concerned Dr. Hofnarr.
"What happened?!" Deimos demanded. "Why'd he shout? Did he fall?"
"Sanford," Dr. Hofnarr breathed, wondering if he himself had gone too far in their little game. "Miss? What happened?"
"Just a little scare, is all," chirped Erimentha sadly, bowing her head. "Sanford came running, and I spooked our dear badly. I'm sorry, Doctor… please..."
"Now, now, I'm sure you didn't mean it, Miss," Dr. Hofnarr reassured. He knelt down next to the shivering boy. "Are you feeling alright, 'Ford?"
"Miss Eri is here," was all Sanford could muster, his face still buried in the woman's smock.
"Oh," Deimos said softly. He reached out to pat the older boy on the back, sighing. "You got scared… it's dark... it's okay, San… C'moooon, 'Ford..."
Miss Eri lifted her gaze from the scared little fledgling to regard the other two. "I think it's best for all of you to get back. You can take the truck back home."
"You unload everything already, Miss?" Dr. Hofnarr questioned, laying a hand on Sanford's shoulder. "Also, tagged ya."
Giggling through his sniffles, Sanford couldn't help but lift his face and peer behind the teacher. Mystery bags of several sizes lay strewn about behind her, damp at their bases. The sand turned a rusty brown where the bags lay. His laughter turned hushed until it didn't make itself heard at all, his mouth hanging slightly ajar at the sight.
"Yes, Doctor. I'll come back home on the bike, no problem." The sound of Miss Erimentha's kindly voice snapped Sanford out of his reverie.
"Aww. C'mon, 'Ford," Deimos called, holding out his hand. "We're gonna go home. Wow, it's been a whole day…"
"Come on now, Sanford," coaxed a gentle-voiced Hofnarr before he raised it to call out to the engineer. "Take care, Miss!"
"Bye, Miss," Sanford called frailly, taking Deimos' extended hand and pulling away from the embrace.
As they moved to get ready for the trip home, the engineer whispered something to the doctor that Sanford didn't quite catch, something about a dumpster. The orphans were asked to line up double-file into the trailer and the newly arrived truck, and he could not eavesdrop anymore.
"What happened to you back there, 'Ford?" Hank asked dismissively as they piled into the truck.
"I just got scared," he replied numbly, too tired to speak. And so Hank left it at that, but Sanford swore Hank let him cuddle in a little more than usual.
Finally, everyone was ready to go home. Mr. Abram kept himself posted as a guard for the trailer while Dr. Hofnarr stood vigil for the truck that Mr. Christoff drove. As Sanford gazed upon Miss Erimentha, watching the truck pull away, he had to wonder how she kept that shovel strapped onto her back.
The trip back home was similar to the trip outside. Earmuffs and earplugs made it nigh impossible to hold conversations, but the orphans were content to wordlessly and tiredly snuggle up to each other. Friends wiped each other's heads with their towels and shared water between themselves when needed. Then one by one, the orphan's consciousnesses went out like lights in a village soon to sleep. Almost all of the children snoozed soundly in the truck and the trailer for the rest of the ride, Mr. Christoff making the careful drive home all the while.
All but one Sanford, who didn't think he could sleep after the ordeal earlier. He simply let Hank and Deimos rest on his shoulders. For the rest of the ride, he watched from behind his glasses as Dr. Hofnarr kept an eye outside. He thought he was watching a different man, then, with the way his glasses glinted as the truck passed under a streetlight.
The doctor's head perked up at the sight of something Sanford couldn't quite catch. He could just barely make out the faintest traces of a lively little "pop" sounding from the gun he held as it fired a brightly colored egg. It traveled a whole block before landing expertly behind one of the big dumpsters by one of the buildings. Just barely able to turn his head with Hank resting on his shoulder, Sanford made out the sight of grunts scattering in a hurry away from a dumpster and away from the truck's journey. His mouth fell open at the sight, how the doctor could cause such cacophony with such a little thing.
"Got it that time," Hofnarr hissed.
"Wow." This caught the scientist's attention, who whirled round to face him.
Hofnarr mouthed a careful "You saw that?"
Sanford nodded quickly, clamping his mouth shut. He waited for the adult to reprimand him, only to stare in awe at the wicked smile that now occupied their lips.
"Pretty cool, huh? Now lower your head"— and he motioned with his hands for Sanford to duck down — "juuuust in case..."
Tensing, Sanford ducked down, much to a grumbling Deimos' chagrin. Unbeknownst to Sanford, a handful of the frightened grunts returned to the supposed blast zone, wondering what had just happened. One of the braver ones picked up the projectile and examined it, then began yelling to their companions. The group proceeded to fall back, away from the truck. Meanwhile, the boy thought he would be hearing something akin to the destruction of metal and bodies by now and so regarded the scientist with a raised brow.
"I thought it was supposed to explode." Sanford looked as confused as the grunts Hofnarr had frightened.
"Oh, no! It's not real. Here, look."
The scientist produced another similar egg from his weapon case and held it up in front of the boy. Sanford took the capsule and examined it, twisting it around in his hands. Of course, he could not know that the grenade was not a grenade at all, or perhaps one not made not to explode. Wrapped around the cylinder were cheerfully written words of caution, cast in a bold print that stood out even in the evening:
KIDS XING!!
THIS IS A
WARNING
A grunt motif was between the two sentence fragments, right in the middle of its facial cross, a big red nose.
"They really won't come for us?" Sanford sounded doubtful, lifting his gaze from cylinder to scientist.
Hofnarr grinned, shaking his head. Then, he mouthed something to Sanford, something that made him want to feign falling asleep after all:
"They know who I am."
Sanford "woke" to the sound of a yell from the orphanage. So they had arrived home. He moved to rouse Hank first, resting a hand on their shoulder and shaking it gently.
"They're back! Kids are back! Rich, get a move on, boy!"
"Almost done, sir!" Another voice shouted back.
Hofnarr snickered lowly, hopping out of the slow-moving truck and running up to the driver's seat. "Drive slower, old friend."
A small plume of smoke from the back of the orphanage spoke of a campfire. Sanford's mind would dwell on this (as it did many other things) for the rest of the night, especially when he would catch sight of what fueled the inferno; meanwhile, Hofnarr recognized what it was for and trusted that his coworkers would control the flame well enough. Chalk it up to experience.
The scientist met with the sheriff at the gates, and the two ushered in the truck and trailer safely within the orphanage premises. The truck and trailer were closely examined in case of any unwanted stowaways, while Mr. Sheriff, Mr. Rich, Mr. Christoff, and Mr. Abram helped out each and every orphan head back inside.
"We're cooking dinner outside tonight," Rich informed Jeb, helping one yawning child hop out of the trailer. "Saves gas. Is that okay with you, sir?"
Christoff stiffened, staring at the smoke plume before speaking slowly. "Well, ah… Perhaps Abram can handle cooking dinner for tonight... "
As the children were herded back upstairs into their rooms, some of them noted how each and every room in the shelter smelled fresh, the sterile smell of a stronger cleaning agent only mildly irritating their senses. On each orphan's bed laid their sleeping smocks, ready for wear, to their delight. The children imagined that if they ever "booked a fancy hotel," this would be what it felt like.
The children were happy to sluice themselves with water at a temperature just right. Weary from a whole day of play, the orphans gladly savored their small taste of faux luxury. Hank and Deimos most of all appreciated the clothes ready at their disposal, having rolled in the dusty grounds of the Nevadan desert earlier.
Upstairs, the children leisurely got washed and dressed, blissfully unaware of what had happened that day in the very building that sheltered them. Outside, the sheriff's lackeys cooked dinner over a fire fueled by rust-colored cloth, under the spring moon.