Chapter Text
"'... Day 3, the kid didn't sleep at all last night. The guest bedroom is just down the hall from mine, and I could hear him tossing and turning. I didn't know if he'd take me checking on him all that well, so I left him alone. Tonight, if the same thing happens, I'm gonna ask him if he wants to go back down to the couch. It seemed easier on him there, but maybe that's because if he had to run, the front door was only two rooms away.
'He's still scared. I know he is.
'I wish I knew what to do to reassure him, but Ma says we'll just need to be patient. She and Pa have taken to leaving crackers out on the table. He ain't gonna take them. I already know that even if they don't. I'll just give 'em to him myself.'
"He always ate anything Goose put in front of him."
The flyboys look to Slider.
"I'm writing 'carry snacks' in here." Slider ducks his head, already scribbling away. "If he trusts us at all, he'll eat what we give him. I know he lost some weight before the Layton, so I want to make sure he's gaining it back."
Ice nods in agreement, looking back to the page. "'It's lunchtime now, and I got out the frosted flakes. I know, I know, I'm not supposed to have cereal after breakfast, but it's not like Ma will know. She's at work, and Pa's out with Moxxie checking on how the grazing is going.
'The kid's watching me from the couch. I don't think he knows he's allowed to be... well, anywhere else if he wants. I'm gonna tell him.'
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'He likes the porch, but only when he can't see Pa.'
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'Pa made more soup. I got hungry after I had cereal and ate a good chunk of what was left. He knelt down again when he offered it to our guest, and he said a soft 'Here you go, Skitters' that made the kid shiver. This time, Pa only made it to the kitchen before his offering started disappearing into an eager stomach. Pa asked me if I was sure I fed him lunch. We both know I did, but I think he's getting fond of the kid.
'I don't think the kid is fond of Pa yet, but he seems hungrier. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. I hope it's good, a sign he's adjusting to meals, maybe. I'd have to ask.
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'He's still moving like he's hurting. I had to wait until both Ma and Pa were upstairs getting ready for bed to get him to let me look at his ribs. He doesn't want them to know, probably because they'd take him to a doc and that could lead to the authorities of some kind. I doubt he even really wanted me to know, but I already saw it. What can he do? It looks worse now than before. All the bruises have blackened up. Looks like someone's boot.
'Just what happened to you, kiddo?'
Wolf's expression falters, now tinged with horror. "What kinda person kicks a kid hard enough to break ribs?"
"A sorry excuse for one," Slider grumbles.
Ice swallows. He thought Day 1 was bad, but it looks like things are going to get much worse before they get better. His own father wasn't exactly a model of human decency, but he'd never beat him for the hell of it. And, yes, Slider, he's well aware that just because it didn't end bloody didn't mean every conversation with his father wasn't a demoralizing defeat.
But still.
Exactly how much work did Goose put into turning Mav into the cheery soul he was before Top Gun, perpetually in a good mood and talkative if given the chance? It was no wonder he didn't take well to Ice's approach. It wasn't really fair of him to assume Mav was the reason Cougar quit, and it couldn't have painted a very pretty picture of Ice's opinion on Mav.
Just how far has Goose's death set him back without any of them knowing it?