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jumabelljingolas · 4 years

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Batman's Little Sister.

Series: DC Universe: Wonder Woman

Pairing: Diana Prince x Reader

Summary: Y/N Wayne, well-known in the industry for holding numerous fundraisers dedicated to charities and art preservation, caught the attention of Diana Prince. After a mission, Bruce receives news from Alfred that an invitation had been mailed to the princess of Themyscira from his very own sister.

"I'd like to express my deepest gratitude to all of you who share the same passion as I, thank you for continuing to trust this campaign and I hope everyone in this room tonight will have—or continue having—a wonderful evening. Thank you again."

The room erupted in applause, smiles directed to the woman whom raised her glass of champagne with a grin plastered on her lips. She then descended from the stage and was instantly approached by a few men in suits, congratulating her and exchanging shy laughter with; completely unaware of a woman in the sparkling white long and fitted gown who observed her from afar, a little smile on her lips as she watched the girl talk animatedly with the men about how the passion came to when she was at the ripe age of nine.

Ofcourse, Diana can clearly hear you (because unbeknownst to you, and to the many she's Wonder Woman) she revelled in the pitch of your voice and how easy it was for you to communicate what you felt about helping these certain causes. On paper, there were some nasty articles about how you've taken the charity/fundraiser routes as to somehow outwit you older brother, it was nothing but a game between the two Wayne siblings on who's better in the eyes of Gotham; sadly enough because you were younger, and a woman, the articles picked on these traits as a form of inferiority between you and Bruce.

Diana couldn't understand it, here you were standing yet only a few feet away from her and you were so radiant, so undeniably pure as if there would never be anything that can knock you off of your feet because your love is endless; she couldn't understand why these people underestimate your capabilities, and paint you as some sort of villain whilst you stand next to Bruce who loved you to the very ends of the world as well.

She couldn't understand why anyone would ever want to bring shame upon your name when all you ever did was live such a normal, mundane life without trampling over anyone; she knows this because she feels it. You weren't like the many, corrupted by greed and undeniably high ideals.

But instead, you are Y/N Wayne; the youngest of the two remaining children of Martha and Thomas Wayne. The woman who calls Bruce in the middle of a Justice League meeting to ask him when he'd finally be home so that you can cook dinner for him and Alfred because you miss them, the woman who never understood why her brother was never home but doesn't pry about it because she trusts him like she trusts herself.

Batman's little sister, even if she never really knew about it.

Diana could see how much at peace you were living compared to Bruce whom set out his entire life into fighting crime to somehow avenge your parents, she could see how Bruce was doing it for the both of you, and you lived a life the way your parents would've wanted for you two. She couldn't help but be drawn to these thoughts of your decision, how this was the first time she saw you in person yet she already feels as if she'd known you since you were children.

And then your eyes connected.

You were frozen on your spot, it was as if your eyes set on the most beautiful piece of art in the museum but this one particular piece was breathing, it was alive and it offered you a warm smile. You probably looked stupid, with your mouth slightly agape as you inhaled sharply at the sight of her but before you could even return a small smile, a man blocked you from being able to further connect with the woman. You'd know the back of that head like the back of your own palm, that was your brother whom was having a word with her.

Diana Prince, she actually showed.

"Miss Wayne? Would you like more champagne?" the voice of one of the men snapped you back into your little circle of business transactions, you smiled at him and nodded before he ushered one of the waiters to pour you another glass.

If you were about to be introduced with the woman of your dreams, you'd need more than just a glass of champagne to keep you from becoming a stuttering mess.

"I see you did get the invitation." Diana's smile faltered as Bruce blocked her vision of you. Staring each other down for a few seconds, Diana shrugged before finally smiling up at Bruce.

"I don't see why I shouldn't attend."

"She doesn't know anything about us, Diana. What we do, she knows completely nothing—" Bruce furrowed his brows as Diana let out a short laugh.

"I know, and I have no intention of bringing her into it. Always so uptight Bruce, you should learn to relax, live a little," Diana straightened the shoulder pads of Bruce's tuxedo with a grin playing on her lips, contrasting to Bruce's worried look, "your sister merely wants me as an investor, nothing more. And if she insists on more.." the Amazon's grin stretched up into a bashful smile which made Bruce grab ahold of her wrist, eyeing her down as she looked up at him in amusement.

"Don't play coy with me princess, if she even gets the slightest hint of what we are and what we do I swear to your gods—"

"You know, flirting with my potential investor is one thing, but convincing her to invest in your own side of the business should've been held under your own gala, brother." Bruce withdrawn his hand from Diana's wrist, you happened to not have heard nor seen any of the rising tension between the two as they bantered about you. Diana grinned at Bruce as he gritted his teeth before stepping to the side and facing you with a soft smile.

No matter how angry Bruce gets, you always were in touch with his soft side.

"Haven't considered that maybe I was convincing her to invest to yours?" you titled your head at his statement, which Diana found completely adorable.

"Sounds to me that you've already been acquainted?" Bruce noticed the slight change in your tone, he knew you well enough to know what was running through your head and it pained him to see how you subconsciously took a slight step back as if doubting the situation at hand. And by situation, the possibility that Diana was one of Bruce's many hookups and the only reason as to why she's here is to get back at him.

"He visited The Lourve for quite some time, not our favorite guest in full honesty." Diana intervened, feeling how your radiant aura slightly dimmed. You looked at her with a small smile, nodding before inhaling sharply and composing yourself to handle the potential investor professionally.

Even if it pained you to think that yes, yet another woman who wants to be in the arms of your own brother.

"Well then Bruce, if you don't mind?" Bruce looked at the two of you before shrugging and sipping on his champagne, standing there waiting for you two to start talking. Diana could only contain her annoyance to his protective presence but looking at you made her feel less annoyed.

The Amazon felt as if no time would be wasted as long as it'd be spent drowning in the warmth of your eyes.

"Formally introducing myself this time, as if the bantering between my brother and I never happened," you offered a hand to Diana who instantly took it in hers in a firm grip, which took you aback for a second before you composed yourself with the award-winning smile on numerous magazine covers, "Y/N Wayne, pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Diana Prince, and trust me Miss Wayne—the pleasure is all mine." you hated how her voice almost sounded velvety against the chattering of the guests in the museum, and how soft her hands were, her grip still firm yet seemingly familiarizing the warmth you were currently offering.

This woman, if she were to get back at your brother by enchanting you—she's already doing one hell of a job.

"Would you like a tour around the museum, Miss Prince?"

Time had never flown by as quickly as it did spent with Diana Prince, she was everything a simple woman of an artistic eye like you could ever wish to become; two peas in a pod, you'd talk about a certain piece and Diana would indulge you in information you were sure you'd never even heard of about it. She was this enigma of surprises, it was as if you'd find something about her whilst she shared her personal experiences amongst the artistic world, then you'd find out something completely different about her that had you reeling for more.

You hated it, if ever this woman was actually here simply walking next to you and knocking you off your feet just to get back at your brother—

"I'd like to negotiate the investment." you tore your eyes off of the large painting in one of the many exclusive, executives only areas of the museum; your eyes set on the woman that stood rather closely next to you even though you were the only ones in the spacious room. She was staring rather intensely at you, as if she always had been even though just a few moments ago you were laughing at a certain piece that you had a slip of misinformation from that she corrected.

But all good things must come to an end, don't they? Whether it was being with practically the most beautiful woman on Earth that slightly towered over you, for a moment it felt as if she was there just to solely be with you but then it always had to be about Bruce.

"Okay." Diana raised her brow at the sudden change of tone, your eyes tore themselves away from hers and instead it casted on nothing in particular. The Amazon eyed you down, waiting for something else to come out of your precious mouth because you always seemed to have managed to keep a professional composure.

"Your current campaign, the preservation of this evenings pieces, the upcoming ones, and what you'll be deciding to do next.." your brows furrowed at her words, this wasn't how it usually went with Bruce's women; it usually ended up with them investing a certain amount to only the current campaign, followed by them trying to seduce you into bringing them to the Wayne manor—somewhat getting a reaction from Bruce once he sees them in his house the next morning—then that was it, it never went beyond that.

"..I think you have a great vision, Miss Wayne. I'd be honored if you'd let me support that."

Did I just.. caught the attention of Diana Prince?

"Vision..?" Diana eyed you in worry, you looked as if you were about to pass out right infront of her. She instantly reached over to grab your empty glass of champagne, a hand softly placed on your arm as she set your glass on top of the glass compartment.

"Yes? Are you alright, Miss Wayne?" you let out a short, breathless laugh.

"Jesus Christ, if you're going to stick around alot after this you'll have to get used to calling me 'Y/N'." Diana's lips pulled up into a grin that made your heart flutter.

And ofcourse, Diana could hear ever single beat.

"I'd like that, Y/N." you shook your head, trying to push away the thought of how angelic your name sounded from her lips. Finally composing yourself, you ran your fingers through your hair as you stared across the room, unaware of how Diana slowly eyed you down from head to toe after the action.

"If you're planning on doing more, then this talk alone won't suffice. We need documents, and lawyers, consultants—"

"Y/N," you looked at Diana and her eyes looked into yours softly, soft enough to almost make you die inside, "one step at a time."

"Okay." Diana reached over to place her hands on your cheeks, you were frozen on your spot as she smiled rather lovingly at you, which oddly enough even if the conversation was about her investing to your campaign—it felt more than that.

It was almost as if it was a marriage proposal.

A promise of something greater than a simple investment.

"But first, I'd like to hear you say my name; please say my name, Y/N." Diana's eyes scanned your entranced eyes, just as you looked deeply into hers.

A promise of forever.

"Diana."

This is my first ever Y/N published fic. Just recently, I got into reading comics and I chose to head first into the DC universe because I've always been curious about it. I had fun writing this and hopefully, those who'll read this would find it entertaining to say the least.

Anyways, I'll be making more of these once creativity pushes me again. God, I love Diana Prince so much right now it's insane.

Laters for now,

RANIMA.

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theonetheycallhannah · 4 years

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The Treatment of Capt. Syverson-Chapter Two: Therapeutic Procedure

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: Shane and Sy share some moments during their treatment sessions…and a phone call that could set the tone for the next few weeks.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: None, yet… ;)

Author’s Note: Sorry, I was so eager and excited to post the first chapter of this last night, I totally put some inaccurate info in my description notes. I will correct that in the original post and try to do better henceforth! Hope you enjoy Sy and Shane totally flirting some more and getting more friendly in this chapter. Feedback is appreciated! Even constructive criticism! :D

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags: @onlyhenrys @cavillryarchive @summersong69 @titty-teetee

Let me know if you wish to be added to the list! I’m happy to do it!

Shane woke up that morning with knots in her stomach. She dropped every product she picked up in the shower, she was shaking so much. She accidentally ordered the wrong coffee on her way to work and was now drinking something much less caffeinated and far too sweet for her taste. The barista had informed her it was a grande caramel macchiato with an extra pump of vanilla and extra caramel drizzle…with only two shots of espresso…she couldn't begin to describe how wrong that drink was for her. But it was better than nothing, she told herself, not fully convincingly.

She had chosen her clothes with extra care, even though, with the dress code, her options were limited. And she had made sure to put on a bit of mascara and just a touch of perfume, even though they weren't strictly supposed to wear it…she didn't know why she was bothering.

Well, actually, she did know why. She had been checking her schedule extra diligently lately to make sure she didn't look like a hobo when Sy was coming in. He'd been coming for three weeks now, and after the initial bellyaching about Jordan not being as pretty as her…her heart!...and his feeling extra sore after his visits with him, they were on a roll and had a great chemistry together as far as their treatments went…she tried not to think about…beyond the world of therapy.

She thought back to their first session after she got back from her trip. And the conversation they had.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I think the next time you can't see me, I'm just going to cancel." he had sulked as he wiggled his mass of muscle onto the mat.

"Sy, no. you need therapy. Don't be like that to Jordan. He's an excellent therapist."

"He ain't you though." he smirked, sending her heart racing with that smile that somehow managed to look both boyish and rakish under his full, dark beard. Fucking hell. He needed to stop.

"Well, we can't fault him for that, can we? Lay back, Mister." She demanded. Done with the niceties of the evaluation and onto the treatments where she was in charge. The boss.

"Yes, sir!" she laughed at his clear avoidance of calling her ma'am.

"So where'd you go last week? Vacation or stay-cation?" he asked, the term "stay-cation" sounding downright comical coming out of his country-boy mouth.

"I went to the beach. Gulf Shores."

"I thought you looked like you got some sun."

"Yeah," she pretended his noticing the detail of her awesome tan did not send her reeling. "My folks rented a condo right on the water for my siblings and I to come and stay with them. They're still there. It was tough to leave all that beauty." the beach, pretty much any beach, was her favorite place to be.

"I bet…" he looked at her, something dreamy in his eyes, but he looked away before she could process it. "I thought I had my fill of sand and sun when I was over in Iraq. But you make it sound…like paradise." he smiled softly up at her as she worked on his knee, trying to break apart some of the scar tissue from the injuries and surgeries he'd had…and focus on that, and not the warmth rising in her.

"That's the perfect way to describe any place on the Gulf of Mexico. I doubt it's anything like Iraq, since there's so much water around. It's my favorite vacation destination. Well, apart from London."

"Them British folks always seem so stuck up. Don't know if I'd get along with any of 'em."

"It felt like a second home for me. Everyone was very kind and polite, for the most part. At least it was no worse than it is here."

"Maybe it's just because you're so nice."

"Wait 'til about week eight or ten of your protocol. You won't think I'm nice then. You'll be cussing me out and ready to ring my neck."

"Promise?" he asked, a dark grin on his lips and in his eyes…she faltered for a moment, gulping.

"Cut it out, Syverson." she rolled her eyes, covering…without great effect the way he made her feel.

"Yes...ma'am." he smirked with satisfaction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And now, today, she'd be treating him again, fairly early in the day, and she had to prepare herself. She'd checked the policy, and although there wasn't anything strictly against dating a patient, it was clearly a conflict of interest, and would be frowned upon by her frigid tyrant of a boss. Best to let things remain platonic for now.

Her 9:30 was a no show, so she finished up some notes and was working on some continuing education credits when messenger popped up around 10:00.

Sergeant Sexypants is here. He's quite early and he knows it…*smirk emoji* he must like you, Shane!

Heather, come on, be respectful…he was discharged at the rank of Captain! *rofl emoji* and I think you might be right about him liking me…*nervous emoji*

Oooooooooh!!! You guys are gonna *couple kissing emoji* *eggplant emoji* *okay emoji* *explosion emoji* *baby emoji*

Omg…*three facepalm emojis* I am going to go ahead and start him early since my 9:30 was a NCNS.

Don't finish him too early. Make it last. *smirk emoji*

Jeez. She closed the chat and went to grab him from the waiting area.

"Hey Sy, you ready?"

"You bet, sunshine!" he flashed her a crooked smile. He was calling her sunshine now…ad that to the list of things she'd have to pretend didn't make her swoon.

"Great. Let's start on the bike. How's the knee feeling today?"

"Oh, it's…about the same. Stiff. Lil' sore."

"Well, it's a slow process, like I told you at your eval. You've got a lot going on in there."

"I know…just…it hasn't taken me four weeks to do anything in my life." he sulked. "So…thinking about this taking…twelve or more…" he grimaced as he sat down on the bike, and adjusted it for his longer than average legs, putting his feet in the pedal stirrups.

"You may not see it, Sy, because you're so close to it, but trust me, you're making progress. I can tell you're doing your exercises at home, and you're always willing to put in the work here. You have no idea how much that sets you apart from…some of these other people." she leaned in closer and spoke the last part more quietly to him. It was true. So many of her patients were either lazy or just in it to appease their MDs into writing them scripts for pain meds. That wasn't Sy.

"You really think so?" he gave her the side eye with his baby blues, crushing her with the color like the waves of the ocean she'd just returned from.

"In fact, I know so." she placed a reassuring hand on his broad and thick shoulder. She felt the tension between them hum, like electric current.

"Now, level one, and a steady pace. You're not trying to win any medals here. I'll take those crutches."

"When ya think I can 86 'em damn things?" he griped as he handed over the assistive devices.

"Well, you see Potter again tomorrow? I'll write an update today and send it to him. If he likes what he reads, or more likely pretends to read, regarding your progress, he may discharge them. Do you feel like you can be good to the knee and treat it nice without using crutches? I don't want you to regress and re-injure yourself. That's not gonna get you into your running shoes any sooner."

"I'll be nice. Real gentle." he winked at her…he wasn't just talking about the knee. And she knew it. But again, she pretended she didn't, ignoring once more those butterflies threatening to choke her they were multiplying so fast in her belly.

"Okay, I'll put that in my note. Patient compliant with instructions to be nice." she laughed.

They talked as they biked, Shane sat on the one next to him and pedaled along with him for something to do other than be idle. She thought it made him feel better as well. Like he wasn't doing it alone. They covered the subject of her siblings, an older brother in IT and a younger sister who was an MA, and his German Shepherd, Aika, which he was allowed to bring home from Iraq after they were both honorably discharged. Music, both of them completely in agreeance about the superiority of classic rock.

"I noticed you've worn a Lynyrd Skynyrd shirt a few times and meant to say something before now."

"Yeah, they're one of my favorites. But there are a few newer groups that I like a lot, too. Kings of Leon got me through some tough times, honestly."

"Oh, they're great! I love their sound. And their lyrics…poetry."

"No shit. Sorry." she shook her head and raised up her hands to indicate that he didn't need to apologize to her for swearing. She'd been known to make sailors blush when she was off the clock. "Only by the Night…that whole album is…it's just in my blood, ya know? Ya ever have an album do that?"

"I have. Whole artists catalogs, actually."

"Which artist?" he prodded.

"The Beatles. Pretty much every song. Like you said, it just, like, I dunno, it's almost deeper than the veins. It's in the marrow. My soul." she stared off out the windows ahead of them, thinking about her favorite band in the world and how magical it was to experience Sir Paul McCartney playing some of her favorites live…twice…and the timer on the bike went off, pulling her from her daydream.

She looked over at him, startled by both the noise, and the dreamy look in his eyes that was becoming all too familiar.

"Sorry." she stood, grabbing his crutches for him and handing them back to him from where she had leaned them as they rode.

"Hey, don't be sorry for…ahem…for loving what you love. We should all…hold on to the things that make us feel like that." she nodded.

"Thanks…I don't think a lot of people…understand the way I…my tendency to take things like music, movies, and shows…books…so deeply to my heart." they walked to the treatment room from the gym, taking their time, since they had it. A rare occurrence for Shane, always needing to capitalize on every spare minute. To make productivity a priority.

"I think…that…well, seeing a pretty grim side of the world like I have…seems like there's enough darkness and bullshit making everyone miserable. If we find something…or…someone…that brings us some happiness or even just makes that misery bearable…we oughta hang onto 'em real tight. Cherish it like gold." the silence in the small room was loud with that electrical hum of their tension again. He'd said all the right things, as he always seemed to, but under the absolute wrong circumstances. She just nodded.

"They teach you philosophy in Basic?" she giggled. He laughed back in response.

"Oh, no, Basic was way easier than…whatever goes on inside of us."

"Speaking of which," she segued deftly, "lay back, and let my try to get some range out of that knee before I take new measurements for this update I'm gonna write."

"Yes, ma'am!" he chuckled.

"You get some sick thrill out of calling me that, don't you?" she scowled playfully at him.

"Oh, you have no idea…ma'am." he winked at her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Shane was wondering how Sy's appointment went as she ate her soup at lunch and caught up on her morning notes. She got a ping on messenger.

You have a gentleman caller…*eggplant emoji* hehe, he's on line three.

Geez…thanks Heather.

No need to ask for a name. She knew Heather meant Sy.

She picked up the phone at her desk in the treatment room.

"Hey Sy! How'd the appointment go?"

"Hey, sunshine…eh…he said I'm doin' good, but he wants me to stay on crutches another two weeks." she could hear grave disappointment in his voice. She felt for him.

"Aww, I'm sorry Sy. I know you wanted off those. And I know they're a pain. Literally and figuratively."

"Why wouldn't he want me off 'em?" he was so frustrated. He must have just left the office.

"Did you ask him that question?"

"You know doctors, Shane. Not like I would have got an answer in plain English. Figured you'd know."

"Well, I haven't seen your post-visit report, but it's my presumption that he wants to play it safe. You know he spent most of his day in the operating room with you, right? An eight hour surgery, you had. He probably doesn't want to undo all that by d/c'ing the crutches too soon."

"I was gonna be careful though, Shane!" he was worked up properly, and she could hear it over the roar of his pickup in the background.

"I know you were, Sy. I'm sure you were going to take all kinds of precautions. But what if you're walking into your kitchen, during a storm, and there's a loud clap of thunder, and Aika gets startled and busts past you? What if you're feeling good one day, and forget about it, and jog to catch up to someone holding the door open for you and miss a stick or something under foot? You can't prepare yourself for every pebble or patch of mud in your path, Sy. Accidents will happen. Some circumstances are beyond our control…we just have to do the best we can. The crutches are going to help you until we get you stronger. That's what we'll focus on until those two weeks are up."

"Why is it you can calm me down like this?" he asked, sincere and truly calmer than he had been.

"I'm just a good therapist, is all."

"Ya don't think that's really all, do ya?" the sound of his deep drawl in her ear from the receiver made her shiver. He was implying something that she just couldn't entertain. It wasn't possible for them right now. Maybe…down the road…in a few weeks…

"I'll see ya tomorrow, Sy. Come ready to work that knee."

"You didn't say no…" he was too hopeful. Damn it, he was cute when he was hopeful. She was glad she couldn't see his face light up like she knew it was doing.

"You may have noted I didn't say yes, either."

"Yet. See ya in the mornin', sunshine."

"Bye, Sy."

She put the receiver in the cradle and her face in her hands.

"Shit."

She had a feeling this particular patient was about to become much more complicated.

Up Next: Chapter Three-Therapeutic Activity

#netflix sand castle #sand castle #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x ofc #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson x ofc

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ficdirectory · 6 years

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Disuphere Universe miniseries: The Early Years: Frankie

Lena’s working at Anchor Beach Charter School as the assistant vice principal when she first meets Stefanie Foster and her son, Brandon.

She had then down in her calendar. September 3, 2001. She never expected them to be anything more than a prospective student, and a prospective parent of a student. But something was there between them. Lena could feel it.

A spark, upon that introduction.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Hi, I’m Lena Adams, the assistant vice principal.”

“Hi, I’m Stef Foster,”

Their handshake lasted a little too long. Neither one could look away from the other. In the end, professionalism won out, and Lena focused on what she was here to do.

Next, she introduced herself to Brandon. A quiet boy with brown hair and serious green eyes. He offered a shy, “hi,” at Stef’s prompting but not much more than that.

He passed the kindergarten proficiency exam with flying colors.

“Welcome to Anchor Beach,” she told them both at the end of the visit.

Over the next few months, when Stef arrived to pick up Brandon from school, she hung around. They’d had a few conversations, but as Brandon was an exceptionally good student and a sweet boy, there had no need for conferences or meetings about academic or conduct issues.

Still, Lena sensed that Stef was coming up with questions specifically so she would have an excuse to speak to Lena. She’s twenty-six, and has been around the block a few times - knows what it looks like when she’s being flirted with.

But Lena also knows that Stef hesitated when Lena asked if her husband would be joining them. She has a ring line, but no ring. And Brandon talks about his “Mom and Dad” all the time. In the same sentence.

So when Stef drops by again in December, leaning on the car in the parking lot, Lena has got to set her straight:

“I’m not doing this. I’m not. I’m not getting involved with a married woman. Women like you, you are just passing through, but this is where I live, Stef.”

Stef, though, surprises her. Admitting she’s told her ex-husband, her father and most of her friends that she’s a lesbian. She called Lena “a woman that I can’t live without.”

And Lena made room in her house. Converted her office to a bedroom for Brandon in a hurry.

They moved in just in time for Christmas.

On Christmas night, Stef gets a call.

“It’s work, I knew it…” Brandon sighs, knowing.

“It’s work. You’re right. Be back soon, B. Be a good boy for Lena.” Stef urges.

“I will,” Brandon nods.

That night at home isn’t much different than any other. Brandon doesn’t want to take a shower, because he wants to keep playing with his Christmas toys, but Lena convinced him with the promise of watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas again.

“You’re not my real mom, you know?” Brandon said, looking at her quizzically after Lena draped an arm around him on the couch. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t have to…” Lena had ventured, feeling stung but determined. “But can I?”

“You are right now,” Brandon points out. “I’m trying to watch this,” he says, scooting to the end of the couch.

When the movie ends, Lena tucks Brandon into bed. “You know... before my dad got married to my mom? He was married to someone else. They had a son.”

Brandon listens.

“His name is Nate, and he’s my older brother, but he never treated me like family. He was mean to me. Mean to my mom.”

“Probably, ‘cause he just wanted his life to go back to how it was before. When it was him and his dad and his own mom. Having another mom or dad? It just makes you miss yours more.”

“Is that why you don’t want me to cuddle you?” Lena asks.

“No… ‘Cause, what if my dad finds out and he gets really sad? We used to sit together and watch TV.”

“Does it bother you that I put my arm around you?” Lena wonders.

Brandon shrugs. He wipes his eyes. “It just makes me miss Daddy,” he says, lying down to face the wall. “Night, Lena.”

“Good night, Brandon. Merry Christmas.”

Lena passes the time picking up the house and waiting for Stef. She’s in bed by the time Lena hears the key in the lock. Hears the keys set down, feels the bed give as Stef crawls in and whispers:

“I had to help take a kid from their family on Christmas night…”

Lena rolls over. “Oh, God. Honey, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“I am. I just...couldn’t stop thinking the whole night, you know, we’ve gotta do something about this…”

“Like what?” Lena wonders, lost.

“Well...what if we went through the process? Became licensed foster parents?” Stef asks.

Lena smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She’s been hoping they’ll talk about options. Options that will lead to pregnancy. So that Lena can know the joy Stef experienced with Brandon. Carrying a baby. Birthing a baby. If anything, her conversation and interaction with Brandon tonight just made the thoughts grow stronger:

Lena wants - has always wanted - to be a biological mother to someone. To have those family ties that Stef already has.

But she keeps quiet. Shelves the dream for the time being.

And they move forward.

Nine months later, after a conversation with now 6 year old Brandon, they start the process. Take the classes.

Lena Adams is about to venture into foster parenting.

February 1, 2004, Lena’s entire world tilts. Everything spills off it’s surface, including her, and she is left clinging to its edge.

Because that’s the day Stef goes to work in the morning, as usual, and comes back in the evening with twins: Mariana and Jesus Gutierrez. They’re five years old and nothing like the lost four-year-old they fostered for 24 hours. Nothing like the sweet newborn baby they loved and gave a home to for 8 months.

They go from silent and watchful to wild in five seconds flat. Mariana tells Lena, “You have black hair like our real mom,” and her heart breaks a little.

At this rate, it feels like Lena will not be anybody’s ‘real mom.’

Four years later, and Lena is reeling. They somehow had managed to adopt Jesus and Mariana after a tumultuous two and a half years, where they were bounced back and forth to their bio mom’s custody and came back to them more hurt each time.

They’d had 8 months of relative peace, living in their new home on Villa Mariposa, when Jesus disappeared the first week of fourth grade.

It’s like a nightmare that won’t end.

The last thing she ever expects is for another sibling pair to show up in November of 2008. Eleven year old Callie and seven year old Jude, of course, deserve a home, and safety and permanency, but every time Lena lets herself think of talking about insemination? About possibly getting pregnant? There are more foster kids.

And Lena can’t think about foster kids without thinking about Jesus, out there somewhere. Or not out there anywhere. Both possibilities devastate Lena because of her own guilt over not knowing he was missing.

That, combined with the feeling that her dream is about to wither and die has Lena lashing out at Stef one night, when all the kids are at Mom and Dad’s for the night.

“Really? Did you really think putting our names back on the board at the agency was the way to go, Stef?” Lena seethes.

“I’m sorry. I thought we made that decision together,” Stef snaps.

“After we adopted one of the kids from that system and lost him.” Lena insists.

“We didn’t lose him, Lena. He… Something happened. It’s not our fault.” Stef tries.

“I never thought we’d be here again. With more foster kids, after all this…” Lena manages, holding back tears.

“Lena, what’s wrong, love?” Stef asks, coming to her in the kitchen.

“Do you know...how long...I’ve wanted a baby?’ Lena sniffs.

Stef’s mouth opens. She glances around confused. “We have babies, love. We have...so many babies…”

(Lena doesn’t miss how Stef skirts around having to assign a number to just how many children they have. Because what do they say? Five? Four? 1 biological, 1 adopted, 2 fostered and 1 lost?)

“I mean...I want to carry a baby, Stef. I want to have a baby. Myself. Our baby. You got to have Brandon, and I just...ever since I moved in with you...I thought..we’d have the conversation, and I just…” Lena breaks down.

Stef holds her as she cries.

“I love our family. I love our kids. But it’s not the family I imagined. It’s not complete yet. I want to have a baby…”

“We can’t replace Jesus, Lena,” Stef warns gentle.

“No. This is...I’ve wanted this baby since before Jesus. I’ve wanted this baby my entire life, Stef.”

“Our life is so complicated already, honey. Are you sure you want this? What if...what if Jesus comes back someday? What will he think if he sees we’ve moved on? With a baby, no less…”

“You didn’t have any of these concerns bringing Callie and Jude into the house…” Lena points out.

“Because they came the way he and Mariana did,” Stef explains, impatient. “He’d understand.”

“Is it Jesus you’re worried about in this scenario, or is it you? Do you not want me to have a baby?”

“I want you to have everything you want. I don’t want to be the reason you don’t have a baby,” Stef remarks, sighing. “So, what do we do next?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Lena says, drying her tears.

It’s harder than Lena expects, looking at potential donors on a screen and trying to discern who would be best based on the most basic facts. Not only that, she’s been hoping that with time, Stef will come around to the idea. Be a bit more enthusiastic about expanding the family. But even looking at potential donors online, Stef has reservations. Wants a donor who shares more of her own “characteristics.”

“You mean white,” Lena points out, disappointed.

“And smart, and charming,” Stef starts to list.

“The thing is, Stef, I’m half-white. So if we look for a donor who is also white, the baby won’t end up looking like me at all. Not that it has to look like me, it’s just…”

“No, no… African-American, it is,” Stef says, less than thrilled.

“You have Brandon,” Lena tells Stef quietly. “Honey, you see yourself every day in him. Callie and Jude are white. And I’m the only one who...who’s biracial.”

“The twins are biracial,” Stef points out, before she can stop herself.

“Stef, that’s not the point. This is important to me. To have someone in the family who’s like me. Can’t you see that?” (But maybe she can’t. Maybe Stef has never been the only one in her family.)

“I can see that. I told you, it’s fine. You’re having the baby, Lena. You choose the donor. I’m just along for the ride.”

“No, you’re not. You’re not just along for the ride. You’re going to be this baby’s mom. And I want you involved. I want you on board. Can you do that, please? Can you be happy for me?” Lena all but begs.

“That you wanna have a baby that looks nothing like me? Sure. I’m thrilled, Lena.” Stef snaps, quiet.

Before she can say anymore, Stef stands up and leaves her office. So much for having lunch together.

It doesn’t take long for Lena to decide the anonymous donor site is just too impersonal. Wants to know the kind of person the father is.

That’s how Lena settles on Timothy. He’s an English teacher at Anchor Beach. Smart. Funny. Kind. All qualities she hopes for her own baby to possess. But getting Stef behind this development is harder still.

“You think I want you going to work every day and seeing our baby’s father?” Stef hisses.

“Kinda like you see Mike?” Lena pushes back.

“That’s different, and you know it. Our life has enough challenges in it right now. Do you really want to open the door to someone else in our lives? In our baby’s life?”

“If it means knowing our child’s history? Yes,” Lena says definitively. “You know how many questions Mariana and Callie and Jude have about their biological parents. About characteristics they can’t place. Wouldn’t it be nice to have answers for one child. This child?”

Stef wavers. “For medical reasons...yes. I’ll give you that. But, Lena, if Timothy thinks saying yes to this means he gets to be involved in parenting decisions? Gets to visit? Anything like that? No. I think we need to have him sign a contract. Keep things official.”

Lena blows out a breath. “We can’t lose another one. You’re right. This way, we’ll know the history, but be protected from potential attempts at involvement down the road.”

In August, 2009, Callie and Jude’s adoption is finalized.

Lena invites Timothy to the party. With all the other guests, he’ll blend in, and he’ll be able to slip away and do his thing undetected.

She smiles and hugs Callie and Jude, all the while feeling the odd mix of the ache at Jesus’s absence and the excitement at the possibility of their family growing again.

On October 16, 2009, two months after Callie and Jude are officially Adams Fosters, Lena talks to Stef, and they make the decision to tell the kids.

Lena’s just over two months along. Her belly’s swelling slightly already. She’s been to the doctor. Knows it measures an inch in length. It’s in there. Her baby is in there.

“Kids, we have something to tell you,” Stef says. She pauses once she has all of their attention. Nods at Lena.

“I’m going to have a baby…” Lena says, hesitating.

“How?” Callie blurts. “I mean, don’t you need a man for that?”

“She means adopting, right? That’s how all the kids come into this family,” Brandon remarks, dryly.

“Two girls can’t have a baby, right, Callie?” Jude asks.

“No,” Callie shakes her head. “I think Brandon’s right. I think they’re adopting.”

“Are you?” Mariana presses. “Adopting? Or what do you mean?”

“I mean… There are ways that two mommies can have a baby if they want to. There are nice men out there who want to help.”

Brandon coughs. “...Timothy…”

“Excuse me?” Stef asks.

“What? He was in your bathroom. Not exactly subtle, Moms…”

“I mean…” Lena repeats. “I’m...pregnant…”

“No way…” Mariana’s in awe, as Lena nods. “Seriously, you are? When is it coming?”

“The end of June,” Lena says, smiling. Mariana and Jude are thrilled. Callie and Brandon are more reserved.

“Where will it sleep?” Callie asks. “Not in Jesus’s room…”

All eyes turn toward her.

“No. Not in Jesus’s room. That stays as it is. We’re not replacing your brother. Understood, my babies?” Stef checks.

Four heads bob up and down.

“Okay. Now, let’s finish our dinner before it gets cold.” Stef says.

Starting in December, Lena develops some scary complications. Heavy bleeding. She’s terrified that at just 20 weeks, she’s losing the baby. But an ultrasound shows that its still there.

No, not it.

She.

The ultrasound tech accidentally gender-revealed on what almost was the worst night of Lena’s life. Right up there next to the first night Jesus was missing.

They think of names. Lena wants more than anything for Stef to feel a part of this process. A part of this baby’s life.

“Why don’t you name her?” Lena offers.

“Me? I’m awful at picking names. Back when Brandon was born? I’d made a foolish promise to my dad that if he was a boy, I’d name him Frank. He’s never forgiven me for not following through on that…”

“That could work…” Lena ventures.

“You wanna name our daughter Frank?” Stef laughs. It’s been forever since Lena’s heard her laugh.

“Francesca?” Lena asks. “Frankie, for short?”

“Well, that...is…” Stef manages, clearing her throat. “That is kinda cute. And my dad would be over the moon. Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Hey Frankie,” Stef calls softly into Lena’s belly. “It’s your mom. Do us a favor and stay inside a few more months. We really wanna meet you.”

As much as Lena tries to do absolutely everything the doctors recommend, the bleeding episodes continue. Finally, at the very end of February, Lena’s hospitalized with four months of the pregnancy to go.

It’s boring.

Agonizing to be away from the kids. From Stef.

But it’s also a break, from constant stress. She finds herself catching up with friends, and her mom. Getting rest she’s needed for the last two years.

Frankie is monitored closely. She’s growing. Her heart rate is strong. But she needs to make it to at least 28 weeks if she’s gonna have a chance at surviving.

So Lena prays.

And waits.

Frankie listens to Lena, but only just. On the morning of April 2nd, 2010, 28 weeks along, Lena bleeds again and Frankie goes into distress. They do an emergency C-section at 9:30 AM. Stef is at work.

(They’re expecting this in a bit less than three months, not now.)

Francesca Rose Adams Foster weighs 2 pounds, 4 ounces. She is 12 inches long.

By the time anyone can alert Stef about what’s happening, it’s been hours. Lena hasn’t been able to see Frankie.

And by the time she can? Lena is not sure she wants to. At least, not alone.

Stef comes, hours later, shocked at the turn of events, but glad that Lena and Frankie are okay for the time being.

“I kinda wanted to cut the cord,” Stef admits, quietly to Lena.

“I know.” Lena nods.

“I’ll bring the kids by soon. So they can see her.” Stef promises.

“Maybe you should wait. You know? Until Frankie is stronger?” Lena ventures.

Days turn to weeks.

The first time Lena can hold Frankie, she is terrified. The NICU is full of babies just as small as Frankie - even smaller sometimes. Even sicker. There are monitors beeping and Lena’s anxiety goes off the charts whenever a baby goes into distress because what if that was Frankie?

Lena’s terrified to hold her daughter because she’s so small. Because of the wires and tubes. Because they’ve made sure it’s dark and very quiet, and urged Lena not to speak, because babies this small can become overstimulated easily.

She spends the whole time praying Frankie will not break.

Lena is released but Frankie is not.

Weeks turn to months. They finally manage to get all four kids to the hospital to visit.

Mariana comes whenever she is allowed, hating that she has to have an adult with her. She’s constantly asking who is with Frankie. Insisting that she shouldn’t be left alone.

“You know, that happened to Jesus and me…” she ventures, quiet, upon learning that Frankie’s by herself with no parents around for the time being.

“Miss Thang, being neglected is not the same thing as what’s happening to Frankie now. She’s resting. She needs quiet. If she were home, she’d need to sleep a lot, too.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Mariana sighs cryptically. “Can I go be with her? Please? I’ll be quiet, I swear,” Mariana begs.

“Honey, kids aren’t allowed in the NICU unaccompanied.” Lena says apologetically.

“So, accompany me. I’m twelve now. Maybe if they knew that, they’d let me in alone.”

“No, honey, I don’t think so…” Lena tells her.

Mariana pouts.

“Come on. Let’s go together,” Lena encourages, taking Mariana’s hand.

“You know, Jesus and I were here,” Mariana says when they arrive at the window to the NICU.

“What do you mean?” Lena asks.

“When we were babies. We were early like Frankie. We were alone. In a place like this with a lot of beeping,” she shudders.

“Mariana, that was a long time ago. Just because this is Frankie’s story doesn’t mean it’s yours. You have your own story.” Lena says, trying to reassure her.

“But that is my story,” Mariana says, hurt. She turns to look at Lena. “Why do you think I keep asking to see Frankie? It’s because I know what it was like. We both do. It’s lonely.”

“Mariana. There is no way a baby can remember that far back, okay?” Lena sighs. “And I feel bad enough that we can’t get here as often as I’d like to, so let’s just enjoy the time we have with Frankie, okay? No more stories?”

Mariana sighs, and walks up to the incubator, in a yellow paper gown. Sticks her hand in the hole in the side of the plastic incubator, offering a gloved finger for Frankie to grasp.

“It’s Mari. I’m your big sister. It’s okay. You’re not alone. I’ll come as much as I can, okay? I promise.”

Lena watches, amazed as tiny, two month old Frankie squeezes Mariana’s finger.

Frankie comes home a month later. She’s small as a newborn at 3 months old.

It’s just before Callie’s thirteenth birthday, and she says she already got her birthday wish.

“Why? You never visited her,” Mariana accuses, cradling Frankie.

“Hey, hey, this is supposed to be a happy time. Mariana, share Francesca with the rest of the family please, love,” Stef advises.

Reluctantly, Mariana passes her to Callie.

Lena finds herself grieving hard on the day Francesca turns 1.

Jesus has been gone over three and a half years. And though none of them have any plans to touch his room, magical thinking that has led them to keep it like a time capsule seems to have done nothing. It doesn’t look like their sweet boy is ever coming back.

He’ll never meet his sister.

Never see her take a handful of cake with her bare hand and offer it to Mariana, saying “Ah-na-na!” sweetly as she offers it.

Mariana takes the cake crumbs from her baby sister, beaming. “Thank you so much, Frankie! Oh my gosh, did you guys hear that?” she asks, her brown eyes bright with tears. “Her first word was my name.” Mariana turns back to Frankie, who caresses Mariana’s cheek with a cakey fist. “Your brother’s first word was my name, too,” she tells Frankie softly. “Your brother, Jesus.”

Frankie grins.

Mariana grins back, cake in her hands. Tears on her face.

The following year, so much has changed.

Jesus has been home for five months. They’ve lived in the house successfully as a family of eight for just three.

Frankie is has a CP diagnosis that Lena still feels is probably her fault, more often than not.

On Frankie’s second birthday, Jesus hides in his room, headphones on. He’s still ridiculously small for nearly fourteen. Lena and Stef want to be able to have a nice family party but they know by now that holidays and birthdays are hard on Jesus. That it’s best for all of them to just leave him be.

Lena walks Frankie to Jesus’s doorway, holding her hands and peers inside the beads. Now the presents have been cleaned up, the cake’s been eaten and all the guests are gone, the house is notably quieter.

Still, Lena’s disappointed to find Jesus rocking himself back and forth hard against his bedroom wall.

She knows Stef would go inside and physically stop Jesus from doing this but she has Frankie. She can’t risk her baby’s safety. There’s so much they don’t yet know about Jesus and what he’s capable of.

“Jesus, can you come here, please?” Lena asks.

He doesn’t respond.

“Frankie, you wanna tell Jesus what you got for you birthday, love?” Lena asks her daughter.

“Toys!” Frankie cries happily. “Buddy, toys!”

Jesus blinks. Stops rocking slowly. “What kinda toys?” he asks, standing up and approaching them cautiously.

“See?” Frankie asks, showing off a new stuffed animal.

“Yeah, I see,” Jesus nods. “Happy birthday,” he offers. “Birthday hug?”

Lena’s about to object when Frankie thrusts out her arms and lunges for Jesus.

“Okay, buddy,” he says, taking her in his arms as gently as ever, and giving her a squeeze. “I’m glad I get to be home for your birthday,” he whispers.

Frankie slobbers on Jesus’s cheek, her approximation of a kiss.

Jesus smiles.

When Frankie turns three there is no party. Not one at home anyway. Mom decides to throw one at her house, to spare Jesus the trauma of party decorations and guests. It sounds over the top, and Lena hates how he removes himself from everything that might be remotely fun and family-oriented.

She gets that he can’t help it, but once in a while it would just be nice, to be able to be a regular family, not Stef and Jesus at home and the rest of them here watching Frankie open her new doctor kit and enjoying cake and pizza afterward.

Lena wonders if their family will ever be the same again?

On the day Frankie turns 4, she comes into Lena and Stef’s room early and tries to climb into their bed. Something hard smacks Lena in the face.

“Ouch. What is going on?” She blinks awake seeing Frankie’s leg brace lying beside her own head. The straps, previously white are now bright with color.

“Francesca Rose, why does your brace look like this?” Lena asks.

“It’s my birthday brace! Jesus made it for me! He’s my best buddy! See? It gots all my favorite colors! Purple and green, and orange and red, and yellow and pink and brown and---”

“Honey, I see that, but you need that to walk. It’s not a toy to color on. We’re gonna talk to Jesus about that. And I’m going to see what I can do about cleaning this off…”

“No, I like it,” she pouts. “Don’t clean it.”

Lena pauses. Scoops Frankie up on the bed with her. “You like it?” she asks, because better to keep her talking. Jesus did not have a tolerance for fits children threw. And Frankie doesn’t have the self-control yet to avoid them altogether.

“Yes,” Frankie says, touching one strap lovingly.

“Why do you like it?” Lena wonders.

“‘Cause it’s nice and fun. It’s like me. The other way makes me different.”

“It’s okay to be different,” Lena tells Frankie honestly.

“I know, but this way makes me better-different,” Frankie explains. “This is my best birthday present,” she says, clutching the brace. “I’m gonna go show Mariana!”

“Happy birthday, Frankie,” Lena calls after her.

“Happy birthday, Mama! Bye! See you later!” Frankie returns, her voice light.

“See you later,” Lena echoes, feeling something in her heart mend.

She’s finally someone’s Mama.

It’s not exactly the way Lena imagined, but it’s perfect, nonetheless.

#disuphere universe #disuphere things #fic: the early years

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