Here's a little bit of The Pretender fic I wrote for
fan_flashworks. The prompt was "breakfast."
Title: Day One
Fandom: The Pretender
Rating: PG
Length: ~430 words
Content notes: While there's nothing graphic in this story, The Pretender canon does disturbing things to children, some of which are implied here.
Summary: Young Jarod's first breakfast at the Centre.
Day One
On the first full day of the project, Sydney brings the boy's breakfast himself. He's eager to get started, eager to spend as much time as possible with this extraordinary child, eager to begin building the future they'll make together.
He unlocks the door and enters to find Jarod huddled in the corner of his narrow bed, his small arms wrapped around his knees. He looks up at Sydney. "Where's my Mom and Dad?" he says, his voice high and plaintive.
Sydney sets the tray down on the small bedside table that is, for now, the only other item of furniture in the room and lowers himself to the bed beside him. He rests a hand gently on the child's shoulder, but only for a moment. Dr. Raines believes that overt displays of affection with subjects are counterproductive. "They... had to go away," he says. He assumes that the boy's parents are dead, or else they've given him up, but he hasn't bothered to inquire about the specifics. It's better for both of them not to dwell too much on the past. "You're going to be staying here now," he says. "I am going to take care of you."
The boy looks back at him, his wide eyes confused and innocent, but alive with intelligence. Sydney wonders what those eyes see, what they can be taught to see.
"I've brought you breakfast," he says, and slides the tray a little closer to the child.
Jarod peers into the bowl. "What is it?"
"It's wheatgrass blended with nutritional supplements," Sydney says.
Jarod gives the greenish slurry a dubious look. "Mommy gives me cornflakes," he says, a hint of childish indignation in his voice.
"This is better than cornflakes," says Sydney. "It's designed to be good for your brain. To help you be as smart as you can possibly be."
Jarod actually smiles at that. "Mommy says I'm very smart!"
"Yes, you are," Sydney says, smiling back. "You are very smart."
Jarod looks at him for a long moment, then back at the bowl. Tentatively, he lifts a spoonful to his mouth and samples it with a strange, thoughtful look on his face, as if he's analyzing the flavor carefully, trying to decide, perhaps, if it really qualifies as food. His tiny nose wrinkles up a little.
"Don't worry, Jarod," Sydney says. He represses a sudden urge to reach out and smooth the child's hair. There are cameras watching, after all. "You'll get used to it." He gives the boy a kindly, reassuring look. "After a while, you probably won't want anything else at all."