#just wish i had my own chaos in the kitchen to project onto somebody :')

[handgiven]

i wish i could write more of my muses cooking meals for other people but the truth of the matter is the only one who can cook is antoine (he's great, he worked at various restaurants but prefers cafes as it is a little bit less stressful), all the rest of them are walking disasters in the kitchen, emmanuel included (he likes baking in theory but more often than not he gets distracted while things are In The Oven and the Consequences Are Not Lovely)

[ficdirectory]

Disuphere (An AU Fosters family fic) Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Sunday, March 31, 2019

Home: 7 years, 5 months and 17 days

In two days, Francesca’s turning nine years old, but the whole family is celebrating today.  Right now, it’s just Francesca and her two brothers, Jude and Jesus, who live at home  Her favorite is Jesus.  The rest of her brothers and sisters are in college or just moved out.  (Callie and Mariana are in college.  Brandon’s just moved out.)  Francesca wants to be a dancer and an artist when she grows up.

This is the first time in a long time all of them are together.  Francesca likes it when they are together, because they aren’t very much.  She has to stay in her room a lot today, because Jesus and Jude and moms are decorating and doing stuff, and she doesn’t get to help.

(She did help Jesus bake her birthday cake.  It’s confetti cake with green frosting like a monster and sprinkles on top.) Mama told them a story of when Jesus and Mariana tried to bake her a cake when they were Francesca’s age all by themselves and it was gross, but she ate it anyway.  Jesus laughs.  That’s how Francesca know it’s an okay story to laugh at, too.

At school, the kids tease her about how she walks and think they know a lot better than her what she should do.  She stopped being Frankie, because they said it like she was a baby.  (You can’t say Francesca in a baby voice, or you just sound silly.)

Francesca’s watching on the porch for Callie and Mariana to get here.  They’re bringing the ice cream, yum!  She really want a bike for her birthday, but she thinks she won’t be able to ride one without training wheels.  All the other kids were done with training wheels forever ago.  But Francesca still needs hers for balance.

She has another worry, too.

“Jesus,” Francesca whispers.

“Hey, buddy,” (He always calls her buddy.  She doesn’t know why.  But he claims she started it when she didn’t, she doesn’t think.)

Jesus is 20 like Mariana.  They’re twins, but that doesn’t mean they do everything the same.  Like Jesus lives at home with me, and Mariana doesn’t.  Both are okay.

“What’s up?” he asks, sitting on the porch swing next to her.

“I really don’t want to be nine…” Francesca tells him seriously.

“Why?” he asks.  He listens to her better than anyone else.  That’s because he’s her best friend.  Francesca doesn’t have kid best friends because they all treat her different.  Jesus treats her the same.

She bites her lip.  Sometimes, talking about this is okay, and sometimes it’s not.  She won’t know until she starts.  “You know the bad guy that took you to his house that one time?”

Jesus nods.  

“Will that happen to me when I’m nine?” she worries.

“Buddy, I didn’t get kidnapped because I was nine.  I got kidnapped because a guy did a stupid thing.”

His words don’t make sense.  She squints at him.  “Tell me in nine year old words,” she says.

“No.  You’re not going get kidnapped just because you’re nine.  You remember what we talk about?  Don’t walk places by yourself.  Don’t take rides from people you don’t know even if they seem nice, and even if they say they know Moms.”

“I know.  I just…” her voice hitches.

“Hey….  There’s no crying on your birthday!”

“Mariana!” Francesca screams, but Jesus is already up and hugging her like he hasn’t seen her in a million years.

--

Mariana can barely hang onto her balloon bouquet, Jesus is squeezing her so hard.  It’s been so hard being at school while he’s not.  It’s the longest they’ve been apart since 2007.  Luckily now they can FaceTime and call and Facebook chat, and they do.  Every day.

But it’s not the same.

She’s studying to become a legal advocate for kids, which means she needs a law degree.  That means tons of school.  She misses her family, though. Jesus, most of all.

After the epic hug from Jesus, Mariana scoops up Francesca.  She’s still super skinny, because she burns calories like crazy just from moving around.  Mariana holds onto her a little extra too.

“Why so sad?” Mari wonders.

Francesca exchanges a look with Jesus.  In unison both shrug and chorus, “No reason…”

She should have known.  (Obviously porch time equals private, Mariana.  Duh.)  Instead, she offers Francesca a smile and says, “You know if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were Jesus’s twin, not me.”

Francesca’s face splits into the widest grin.  She loves being told she and Jesus are close.  She often says he’s her best friend.  That makes sense.

He’s Mariana’s best friend, too.

“My dear!” a voice reprimands from behind Mariana.  “Get out of the doorway or this will melt!”

--

Callie hasn’t brought out Mrs. Georgina Feathersby Longbottom in years.  She thinks it’s time to break her back in.  Just like she hopes, she gets a smile from Jesus, and uproarious laughs from Francesca.  Callie’s boyfriend, AJ, doesn’t know what to make of the voice, but a smile from Jesus is pretty major.

Even five years later, their trust feels a little dented from her senior project debacle.  She ended up getting an A on her amended project, and she got her phone back on graduation day.  (Yes, Moms were serious about that one.)

Now 21, Callie’s majoring in child psych and minoring in photography.  Today, when she goes anywhere to photograph anyone, she always asks: “Hey can I take your picture?  I’m Callie and I’m studying to be a photographer.”

Not everyone says yes.  In fact, a lot don’t.  But it’s important that she gives them the choice.  (And if people don’t work out, Callie takes great pictures of rooms, of nature, and of anything she finds beauty in.  Or sadness.  Or truth.)

She hurries inside with the ice cream, finding Jude and greeting him with a kiss on the cheek and then leaving the cartons with him.

--

“Thanks,” Jude calls at Callie’s back, not knowing what to do with two cartons of ice cream.  

He walks into the kitchen.  “You know I have homework to do.  I don’t have time for this today.”  

“Well, maybe you should have thought about that before you went to Taylor’s Friday night and spent the whole of Saturday there,” Mom reprimands.

“Mom.  Nobody does their homework Friday night,”

“People who don’t want to be grounded with no social life to speak of most certainly do,” Mom cautions.

Crap.

“I’m sorry.  Lesson learned.  I’ll do better.”

“What?” Jesus asks, looking concerned.  (He has this way of showing up right when somebody in the family is getting in trouble.  It freaks Jesus out still.)  

Even though it’s been a long time, Jude still remembers Jesus back when he first came home and had that knife.  The talk on the porch a few years later had helped, but he still had to talk to Moms a few times because of not feeling safe around Jesus.  Mostly around October.  Luckily that’s a ways away.  Jude will be in college the next time October comes.  Studying creative writing or journalism.  He wishes the theater programs at colleges weren’t so competitive, or he’d totally do that.

“Nothing, I’m just gonna do my homework,” Jude says.

“Not right now you’re not, love.  I need your help bringing the food outside,” Mama interjects.

“I’ll help,” Jesus offers.

“I’ll help, too.  Hey, Mom.  Where’s Cranky Frankie?” Brandon asks, walking in with Talya.

“I heard that!” Francesca exclaims, pouting.

--

“B, don’t tease your sister, please,” Mom says, and just like that, Brandon’s back.

“Here, Stef, let me help,” Talya says.  (They’ve been dating since before Jesus came home.  She’s pretty much one of the family now.)  He’s thinking about marriage, but never about kids.  Just not his thing.

He’s got an office job that pays the bills, but his real passion is his YouTube channel where he takes requests for piano covers of different songs.  He’s got a lot of followers.  It’s nice to play again.

Brandon takes some paper plates and plastic silverware outside.  Through the window, he can see Moms kissing.  He would say it’s gross, but he’s glad they’re still together.

--

Sometimes it’s hard to believe that Stef and Lena have been together for sixteen years, and married for five.  They’d be lying if they said this hasn’t been a hard road for them.  Ironically, it was in the years after Jesus came home that their marriage became rocky, with Lena rehired at Anchor Beach as principal and Stef still a cop with the SDPD.

They hit a few rough patches and even thought of divorcing.  But Lena suggested counseling, and since Stef never wants it to be said that she’s a quitter, she gave it a shot.

Now, they are at the point where they can make their marriage more of a priority.  They do a couple’s retreat every year, and have date nights every week, where they talk about what’s going on with each other.  Not the house.  Not the kids.  Them.  As whole people.  As women.  (Jesus is comfortable watching Francesca while they go out, even overnight, as long as another sibling - usually Jude - is also home.)

So far, it’s working - prioritizing themselves and their marriage.

Communication is not always easy, but they’re working on it.  On showing each other they appreciate each other.  On being there when they need one another.

It’s hard work, but as they always say, it’s worth it.

--

Sometimes it still strikes Jesus just how grateful he is.  Seven years home and the feeling hasn’t gone away.  In fact, it’s gotten stronger.

He never got another letter from Allie Martin, but keeps the picture of Isaac tucked in that notebook, right next to the letter to his mom.  Sometimes he still looks at it.  Sometimes, it still hurts like hell, because he’s here and Isaac isn’t and there really is no rhyme or reason for it.

Even though he’s 20 and technically should be on his own, Jesus isn’t yet.  He kinda still feels like he should get a couple more years at home, to make up for the ones he lost.  Luckily, Moms have never pushed him to leave.

In a way it’s nice with less kids around the house.  It means less unpredictability.  Less chaos.  But it’s quieter, too, and Jesus learned pretty quick he needed to fill that quiet with something.  He doesn’t see Dr. H. anymore because she works with teenagers and Jesus is past that point now, but he still does therapy and support groups.  Sometimes he speaks at them.  Sometimes not. His biggest passion these days is tweeting for social justice type causes @ItsHeyZeus: Mainly, to missing kids.  To let them know they are not alone.  To stay strong.  That people will never stop looking for them.  He tells them don’t give up.

(It’s everything he wished he had Then.  Somewhere to turn.  Someone to listen.)

Just like that, lunch is eaten and it’s time for cake and presents.  He scoots in next to Francesca as she gets ready to blow out her candles.

“Don’t be afraid to turn nine,” he whispers.  “At nine, you’re at the strongest you have ever been.  The smartest.  Okay?  Don’t ever be afraid of turning nine.”

“‘Cause you’ll always be here for me?”

“Absolutely.  I always have your back.” (He feels Mariana slip her hand into his.  Squeeze.)

“Okay…” Francesca says, and she blows out the candles.

After the cake and the presents, everyone would normally leave, but Francesca begs to play a game, all of them together.  (It won’t really be all of them together, since Callie and AJ and Brandon and Talya did have to jet early.  Brandon has work and Callie has school stuff.)

Just because she knows it bugs them, Mom wants to play Scrabble.  They pair off: Jesus and Mariana, Mom and Francesca, and Mama and Jude.

“Don’t you have school stuff?” Jesus asks softly as they all pick their letters.

“I mean, yeah.  But it doesn’t take priority over this,” Mariana shrugs.

It doesn’t take long to remember that Scrabble so isn’t Jesus’s game.  There’s too much going on.  It’s hard to focus.  And in the end Mariana just scores 60-point words by herself anyway.  In the middle of the game, he gets up and starts making sure she’ll have enough leftovers to take back to school with her.

“Vixen!  That’s 21 points!  I am so good!” Jude cheers.

“Excuse me?  Who thought of vixen?” Mama wonders, smiling.

“Fine.  We are so good!” Jude amends.

“Mariana, do you want potato salad?” Jesus asks.

“Hmm…  Cabbage!” Mariana exclaims.

“We don’t have cabbage, genius,” Jesus teases.

“No!  Cabbage!  Our word, Jesus.  With our letters.”

“Okay but cabbage is only 14 points,” Mom insists.  “Are you sure you don’t want to think of a better use for all those letters?” she asks.

“Yeah.  14 points is not a lot of points…” Francesca insists.

“No, because Jesus and I used all our letters and now we get to draw more and keep playing,” Mariana  says gleefully.

“So...no potato salad?” Jesus asks.

“Um, yes potato salad,” Mariana says like withholding it would be an insult.

“Okay.  Let’s just say I’ll give you some of everything…”

“Ooh, but no cheese, please...and no meat.  And oh...potato salad has eggs in it doesn’t it?”

“Cake?” Jesus tries.

“Yes!” Mariana cheers.  Jesus isn’t sure whether she got another word on the board and is beating the other teams or she’s saying yes to cake.  He decides to give her some anyway, and not tell her there’s eggs in that, too.  She needs to eat something.

“Honey, come and sit down,” Mama calls.

Jesus does and they finish the game.  Mariana beats everyone all by herself, and Jesus sends her off with a giant piece of monster cake and a hug.  “Miss you.  FaceTime me, okay?  I’ll help you study.”

“You will?” Mari squints.

“Well, I’ll distract you while you study so maybe just text when you’re done.  At least to say goodnight.”

“Yeah, of course.  Love you.”

“Love you,” he returns.

Mariana makes the rounds, hugging everyone and then stops by him one last time.  “Really, Jesus?  Cake?”

“You just ate a piece five minutes ago at Francesca’s party, like another one to help you study is really gonna be so bad.”

She frowns.  “Ooh.  You’re right.  I’ll probably need the sugar.”

“Okay bye, I miss you.  Text if you need me.”

“I miss you, and same.” Jesus says back, because even knowing they will be apart makes them start missing each other early.

Once she’s gone, the house seems so much quieter.  That could be because Moms are out watching Francesca ride her new bike, and Jude’s doing all his homework at the last possible second.

Jesus is on the couch, on his laptop, when a message pops up through the email he has attached to his Twitter account:

Jesus,

I follow you on Twitter, I have for a long time.  And I have wanted to talk to you for a while, but I didn’t know what to say except...I’m like you.  And how do I move on?  You are a role model to me and I saw your tweets when I was missing.  They gave me hope, but I’m not sure how to start moving on now that I am home.  It’s been months.  I’m so glad to be home but I’m scared all the time.  I just want to be normal.

Sincerely,

Ava

Jesus takes a deep breath and starts writing back:

Ava,

You are normal.  It’s normal to be scared after what we’ve been through.  So, it makes sense that you’ll move through your experience, too, not on with your life and away from it.  It’s okay to need help.  I’m not sure of your age, but let me give you the name and number of a great doctor I know who might be able to refer you to somebody, her name is Dr. Holly Hitchens…  Please take care, and believe that you did everything right, because you made it home.  And as long as you’re alive there’s hope.  So hang on.  And know that with the right support you’ll be okay.

Jesus