Green Day - Final Version - Pt 3
Header Post Here.
Parts 1 and 2 here.
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Part 3
The ride to Dr. Lowery’s the next morning was filled with JD’s typical high-speed chatter, which Buck responded to with his normal booming affection. Tentative questioning of his behavior the day before was met with confusion on the part of JD. Chris couldn't quite shake the feeling that JD's ignorance was faked, but if so, the performance was too well choreographed for him to pinpoint it.
Vin’s silence was not strained, simply distracted; the little boy gazed out the window at the passing scenery in fascination. Vin had been nodding over his cereal bowl, and the bags under his eyes indicated a restless night, but he, too, was projecting a false normality. Going by appearances, you’d never know anything had happened at all yesterday, except for the fact that they were going to an appointment with a child psychologist specializing in abused children.
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The family arrived at Dr. Lowery’s office promptly at 0740, and Chris signed them in while Buck got the kids settled in the play room one of the receptionists showed them too. The room doubled as a waiting area and observation room for Dr. Will’s patients. JD immediately took off for the box of Lincoln Logs, intent on building the world’s greatest log house out of the miniaturized construction materials. Vin more thoughtfully looked for a Batman coloring book and a box of crayons. Dr. Lowery spent some time assessing the family before he came out and smiled at his patients.
“Hello, Vin, JD. Hello Chris, Buck.”
Chris and Buck nodded politely at him while Vin and JD chorused, “Hi, Dr. Will!”
“Why don’t we get started? Chris, I know we discussed yesterday’s events over the phone, but I’d like to hear it again, and get everyone’s reactions this time,” Dr. Lowery began. He pulled out his notepad and began taking notes as Chris talked. By the end of the short narrative, he knew several things, things that worried him: One, Vin was both familiar with JD’s unusual behavior, and determined to minimize it. Two, JD himself was worried that he’d be somehow punished for something out of his control. And three, Chris and Buck had been truly disturbed to find out that their ‘normal’ JD had issues of his own. He knew he’d have to reassure them on that point. So much of their focus, his own included, had been on Vin, that they had all been guilty of minimizing any of the signs JD might have given off.
But as he watched JD throughout the narrative, he realized that the 5 year old was just as aware of his environment as Vin was. He was just better at passing as unaffected by events around him than his older ‘brother’. Better at passing. Dr. Will was very careful to show no expression, although the dismay he felt was momentarily overwhelming. JD was better at passing. Which meant he was better at hiding his problems than Vin. Which meant he had more experience than Vin with those problems, whatever they may be.
Feeling a little disconcerted at this revelation, and knowing now that he’d need to be at his best when it came to JD’s interview, he held out a hand to Vin as Chris wound down. “Thank you, Chris. Vin, will you come back to my office with me?”
Vin glanced over at Buck, JD, and Chris before rising slowly and nodding. He avoided taking Dr. Will’s hand, though, a sure sign he wasn’t too certain about trusting the man with what he knew just yet.
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“So, Vin,” Dr. Will said after they had both settled into their respective chairs in his office, “what happened yesterday sounded pretty scary.”
Vin shrugged. He looked down at his hands, reminding himself not to twist them in his lap.
“You weren’t scared?”
Vin stared at his shoes.
“At all?”
His shoes were quite fascinating, really. The chair was so deep he couldn’t hang his legs down unless he sat almost all the way forward - he didn’t like that. For one, he liked having his back supported when he was sitting. It also brought him too close to Dr. Will, who had a tendency to ask him questions he didn’t want to answer. So he sat against the back rest and his feet hung just off the edge of the chair. He wiggled his toes; the laces bounced.
“Vin?” Dr. Will’s voice was a little more forceful and Vin shot him a sideways look.
“I know I would have been scared, just watching JD like that.”
Vin looked at his hands again, and began to set each finger on his right hand behind it’s neighbor.
Dr. Will sighed. “Vin, did Mr. Chris or Mr. Buck tell you why you’re here today?”
Vin nodded, but waited for Dr. Will to prompt him before answering. “It’s ‘cos they want you to find out what’s wrong with JD. And they think mebbe I know somethin’ that’ll help.”
“What do you think about that?”
Still Vin hesitated.
Dr. Will narrowed his eyes at him, and Vin groaned internally - that expression meant Dr. Will had picked up on something Vin’d rather he not have known.
“What do you think will happen if we find something wrong, Vin?”
“I - “ Vin choked to a stop, unaware of the desperately pleading look he gave Dr. Will.
“Are you worried that Buck and Chris will send JD away, Vin?”
Vin curled up on the chair and nodded miserably. “They said they won’t, but they tried to say last night that mebbe the ranch is bad fer JD. That mebbe Chris ‘n’ Buck are bad fer JD. It’s not - they’re not. I don’t want JD to leave.” Vin sniffled and scrubbed at his nose furiously - JD was counting on him, even if he didn’t know it. He had to be brave.
“Vin, I promise, Chris and Buck won’t send JD away - you won’t lose your brother.”
“How d’ya know fer sure?” Vin hadn’t meant it to come out quite so accusingly, but Dr. Will smiled gently at him.
“Two reasons. One, Buck loves JD, and would fight any attempt to remove your brother from his custody tooth and nail. Two, Chris loves you, and he wants you to have everything you need to be happy. He knows how much you love your brother and need him to be around him. So even if we found out something very seriously wrong with JD - and I don’t think we will - both Chris and Buck will make every effort to keep him with you. OK?”
Vin nodded, sniffling again. He hadn’t been here very long, but already he was tired.
“So, you said Chris and Buck think you might know something about how JD behaved yesterday,” Dr. Will began again. “Do you?”
Vin still wasn’t sure he should say anything - what if JD was too different for these adults to handle? It had happened before. About a month before Chris and Buck had found them, he and JD had gone to a Hallowe’en store on the off chance they might be able to grub some candy. Vin especially liked Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, while JD really wanted some SweetTarts. But the nasty old woman at the counter saw through their ‘innocent lost child’ act, and had chased them through the store.
Vin had hurried to hide them in among the costumes - there was a whole section of vampire’s capes that hung all the way to the ground. But JD had begun to shake and cry, rocking and rocking, and Vin couldn’t get him to stop, and even touching him seemed to make JD cry harder. The counter-lady pushed aside the costumes a few minutes later, muttering about them being bad, trying to make her feel sympathy for two ‘filthy little thieves’. She reached for JD, and Vin had jumped into action, telling the woman he’d get JD out of there himself if she’d just leave him alone. But she touched JD anyway, and the younger boy reacted by trying to make himself smaller, reflexively kicking out, just a little, nowhere near the lady.
“Ugh! Little rat!” she’d exclaimed, and she had hauled JD up and pushed him down the aisle toward the door. But JD wasn’t able to walk or stand, and he had fallen, not even trying to catch himself. “Stupid little brat - what’s wrong with you?!” the lady cried, and kicked, pushed, and smacked the boy right on out the door. Vin, helpless and scared, had followed, only able to shield JD from the worst of the blows.
The episode had really worried him - how could he protect JD if the kid couldn’t even respond to him? And Chris had touched JD yesterday when Vin told him not to - what would the other adults do if JD had too many problems for them to handle? Panicked, he blurted, “I don’ think nothin’s wrong with JD - he’s just different, that’s all. Ever’one says it’s ok to be different.”
Dr. Will nodded. “That’s right, Vin, it’s ok to be different.” He paused, glancing at the office door for a moment. Vin hoped he could leave then, but nope - Dr. Will wasn’t finished.
“So, how is JD different?” Again a pause, and then Dr. Will changed tactics on him. “Vin, I know you weren’t scared yesterday, you’re strong and brave and tried to protect JD, right?” Vin nodded, frowning. “Do you think JD was scared?”
“Yeah, he was scared,” Vin said softly.
Dr. Will nodded. “I think so, too. Do you think he deserves to be scared?”
Vin’s head shot up and he glared. “What? No! He should be safe an’ happy an’…”
“He shouldn’t have to be around scary stuff, should he?”
Vin agreed; no one deserved to be so scared they couldn’t do anything but cry. But he also knew that sometimes it just happened. He wasn’t sure anything could be done about it, and he said so.
“But if you could do something, could help JD not be scared anymore, would you do it?” Dr. Will asked.
“Yes!” Vin cried.
“Well, there is a way you can help him, Vin. You can tell me if you know what set him off. We’re all trying to help JD be not so scared, but we need to know what hurt him in order to help him. Will you tell me what you know so we can all help JD?”
Vin frowned. Could he really trust Dr. Will? It had scared Vin when he couldn’t get JD to stop crying, but he hadn’t been able to do anything about it then. But Dr. Will had helped Vin with scary feelings before. He had also helped Vin with his dyslexia, making it easier to handle and learn in school. Vin nodded to himself; this problem was pretty big, and he knew he needed someone’s help to handle it. Maybe Dr. Will could really do something to help JD.
“He…,” Vin stopped, trying to order his thoughts while Dr. Will waited patiently. “He doesn’t like some of the colors.”
“Oh?” Vin could tell by the surprise in Dr. Will’s voice that that was the last thing the therapist had expected him to say. But Vin forged on, a little desperate to make the man believe him.
“He tells me stories about them, sometimes.”
“Like what, Vin?”
“He says black feels bad to him - all slimey and gross. Dr. Will, I don’t understand - black is just…. black to me. It doesn’t feel like anything except crayon on paper!”
“What do you feel when you see black, Vin?”
Vin looked down, clutching his hands around his knees. “ ’Minds me of Mr.Chris,” he muttered.
“And that makes you feel…?”
“Safe.” Vin met Dr. Will’s eyes. “But JD, it’s like he don’t even see Mr. Chris - all he sees is the black clothes. And he’s scared of ‘em.”
Dr. Will was silent for a long time, then, thinking about what Vin had said. He was quiet for so long, in fact, that Vin began to get nervous. Had he done the right thing? It did seem kind of silly when he said it out loud like that. “Ah, hell, this is stupid!” he grumbled to himself.
“No, Vin, it’s not stupid,” Dr. Will said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you wondering. I was just thinking about what you said. It’s not so hard to avoid black - except for Mr. Chris’s clothes, of course. Can you tell me about another time when the color black gave him problems?”
So Vin haltingly told Dr. Will about Hallowe’en store, and the counter-lady, and the black vampire capes that would have hid them if JD hadn’t had a breakdown.
“Thank you for telling me that, Vin,” Dr. Will said gently. “That was very important for me to know.”
“Ca- Can I go back now?” asked Vin, feeling smaller than he had in a long while.
“Of course,” said Dr. Will, and opened the door for him. “And Vin? It wasn’t wrong to want some candy. She shouldn’t have hit you or JD.”
They walked back down the hallway to the play room, where Vin sidled to Chris’s side. He wanted so very much to feel Chris’s arms around him then, even though he wasn’t sure he deserved such comfort. He stared hard at the child-sized table and wished fervently for Chris to give him the comfort he couldn’t quite bring himself to ask for. He concentrated so fiercely that he was a little startled when Chris gently picked him up and settled Vin in his laps. Vin gasped in surprise but immediately snuggled back into the arms of the one man he was beginning to really trust with his heart.
“Well, then, JD, would you like to come talk to me?”
“Yeah! I can tell you about school and the pups and….” Vin listened to JD’s voice fade as he trotted down the hallway to Dr. Will’s office.
“Are you ok, Vin?” Chris asked softly, rubbing his arms.
Vin nodded, hugged himself and stifled a sniffle. Dr. Will had needed to know about JD so he could help his little brother. It wasn’t a betrayal, he reminded himself firmly. So why did he feel so bad?
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When Dr. Lowery came back with JD from the therapy room, he looked thoughtful, a look which Buck figured did not bode well for either JD or himself as JD’s guardian.
“Well, what do ya’ think, Doc?” he asked, deciding to take the bull by the horns.
“I have some ideas, but I’d like to talk to you and Chris alone, if I may,” Lowery replied. “Why don’t you two come on back to my office while Vin and JD have some free time here in the play room?”
“Sure - I guess the ladies can watch them for a while,” Buck said, with a smile and a wink at the receptionists. They grinned back; Chris rolled his eyes.
Dr. Lowery led the way and waited for them to get comfortable before closing the office door and taking his own seat.
“So?” Chris had waited as patiently as he could, but when it came down to it, he just wanted the problem to be fixed.
“This… may be difficult to explain, Chris, Buck, so please bear with me. My preliminary testing indicates that JD may have synesthesia.”
“Syne-what?” Buck asked. Chris had never heard of it before, either.
“Synesthesia,” Lowery repeated. “It’s what happens when the brain interprets stimulation in one sense as stimulation in another sense. One of the most common variants is seeing colors associated with numbers or letters. The letter ‘R’ might be seen as an orange color, or the number '2' might appear in red to a patient. JD appears to be experiencing this with his letters and numbers.”
“Appears to be?”
Lowery smiled slightly at Chris. “Yes, appears. We must all admit that JD has a vivid imagination and while that is to his credit, it can make diagnosing a sensory issue such as this a bit difficult. The only real way to be sure is to record today’s results and repeat the tests several times. Consistent answers are the key: If JD is consistent in his answers, it’s a good bet that he has grapheme-color synesthesia.”
“Ok, so he sees different-colored numbers,” Buck said with a puzzled frown. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Good question, Buck. People with one type of synesthesia often express other types of synesthesia. There isn’t an easy way to tell with what I’ve got available here, but that might be what's going on here. JD could well have another form of synesthesia that he doesn’t cope with quite as easily.”
“If that’s the case, how do we deal with it?”
“There are some sensory integration therapies we’d use, but I’m afraid that synesthesia might not be all of JD’s problems.” Lowery hesitated. “JD’s exhibiting some… developmental delays that I have to admit I just didn’t expect.”
“Development delays?” Buck’s voice rose incredulously. “Doc, that boy is the smartest kid I know! Heck, he’s smarter than me, and it’s just about all I can do to keep up with him sometimes!”
Lowery made a soothing gesture with his hands. “I’m not talking about his intelligence, Buck, not exactly. There are several developmental markers outside of intelligence that most children display by his age. There’s a chance that it’s something intrinsic to his brain structure.”
“Like what? You can’t tell me he’s brain damaged!”
“No, this would be an issue similar to Vin’s dyslexia, if what I suspect is correct. However, given the diagnostic complexities involved, we need to confirm my suspicions before we move ahead.”
Diagnostic complexities? Chris frowned. “What aren’t you telling us, Doctor?”
“I think JD may have Asperger’s syndrome. But I don’t have the expertise to diagnose something like this myself. The symptoms can be very subtle, and given the boys’ past, it’s best to be certain. JD’s current responses may all stem from some of his experiences on the street, and if we misdiagnose him now, that could be disastrous later. We need to be sure of what we’re dealing with. The only way to do that is some rather exhaustive testing.”
Chris hesitated, looking at Buck. Since Buck was JD’s legal guardian, it would be up to him to make the final decision. The big man looked troubled and worried.
“I don’t want to say ‘no’, but just how much is this all going to cost? Is it covered by insurance?” Buck asked.
“It’s rather fortunate that you are just legal guardians of the boys right now. As wards of the state, these tests will be paid for by Social Services,” Lowery said, much to Buck’s obvious relief.
“All right, Doc, what’s the first one?”
“I’ll make some calls, but I believe the first step is to have a complete assessment of his intelligence levels - both emotional and intellectual.”
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3 Months Later:
It had been grueling few months, filled with a bewildering array of specialists and their tests. One by one, the diagnoses came in. A slight case of dyspraxia. Mathematical and verbal intelligence through the roof. Emotional intelligence lower than usual. Difficulty in recognizing body language and facial expressions. Easily overloaded senses. Senses that were cross-wired. Finally, it was all over; today’s appointment with Dr. Lowery was just to hear his summary diagnosis: Asperger’s syndrome. Chris watched the boys play in the therapy room and listened to the child psychologist explain one of JD’s more urgent issues.
“Green?” Buck asked. "A color hurts him? How is that even possible?” Chris was sympathetic. The whole team had done a lot of research into the potential problems and issues of Asperger's syndrome and synesthesia after Buck and Chris had reported Dr. Lowery's suspicions three months before. As the evidence for the diagnosis piled up, Buck and Chris had had several long discussions with Josiah and Nathan, dissecting the potential problems and issues they would have to take into consideration. Even so, it was hard to understand all the factors involved.
“Remember when we discovered JD’s synesthesia?" the psychologist said quietly, as the three men continued to watch the boys play through the one way mirror. “Apparently JD has a color-touch variation. Such a perception is more difficult to diagnose than the more common cross-connections, but it’s important you understand that he’s not making this up. He’s having a consistent reaction to colors in the form of physical sensations, and it is as real to him as night and day is to you and me.”
“I have to admit it sounds crazy, doc.” Chris said, himself still uncertain of how such a thing might happen.
“I know. But listen to them a minute.” Dr. Lowery pressed a button on the intercom beside him.
JD and Vin sat at the bright yellow, plastic, child-sized table in the playroom, having both decided to color this morning. Dr. Lowery had several coloring books featuring various cartoon characters the children were familiar with, and often encouraged his young patients to pick out their favorites and talk to him about them. JD had chosen a coloring book with Spongebob Squarepants, while Vin contentedly filled in the outlined figures of Scooby Doo and Shaggy. They had, rather typically, dumped all the crayons out between them so each could grab what they wanted.
Vin’s tongue stuck out of his mouth, an endearing sign that he was concentrating hard on making sure he stayed inside the lines with the colors - colors he’d picked so that the resulting picture would look just like it came off the tv show. JD, in an unusual burst of creativity, was coloring everything in an original color, mostly bright shades. He seemed to be staying away from greens and dark shades, frowning once or twice as a crayon produced a different color than he expected. There was no black anywhere in the picture, and even the shoes, which were inked in black, were covered up in bright orange construction paper JD had torn to the proper size and tried to adhere with…something. Chris suspected spit or snot - he’d have to talk to JD about germs, he thought. But why would JD cover up the shoes?
JD grabbed a blue crayon, saying, “I like blue, I’m gonna make his floor blue.”
Vin cocked his head consideringly. “I thought his floor was s’posed to be green?”
“Yeah, but that’s silly - who wants to walk on a green floor all the time? It’d be like walking on a bunch of nails, with all the pointy ends up.” JD spent a little more time coloring, deeper here, lighter there - Chris realized with some bemusement that JD was deliberately shading his drawing, although he wasn’t getting shadows placed correctly.
“Hey,” JD asked suddenly, “Did you ever wonder why Shaggy wears green all the time? You think he’s got scars and stuff from his shirt? I bet that’s why he never takes it off…”
Buck’s eyebrows rose in astonishment. “So he connects colors to physical pain?” He looked beseechingly at Dr. Lowery - Buck loved all the glorious, riotous colors in the world. His love of colors probably explained the number of Parrot-head posters he owned. It undoubtedly explained his fashion sense.
“Not all colors,” Dr. Lowery assured him, “Just some. You’re not going to have to keep him in a white cube. With some therapy - the sensory integration therapy we discussed earlier - he’ll be just fine.”
Buck sighed, glancing over at Chris. “That’s good - hey, what’s wrong, Pard?”
Chris was still staring intently into the playroom. “Just watch,” he said, and Buck turned back to watch the boys more closely. He kept throwing little looks over at Chris, probably waiting for him to say something more, but Chris held his peace.
In the playroom, Vin looked up from his own drawing of Scooby Doo and Shaggy. “That’s wrong, JD - Gary is s’posed to be blue with a red shell, not black.”
JD shrugged. “I’m not drawing him wrong, Vin, the tv gets it wrong! ‘Member the snails at the pond?”
Vin nodded, a puzzled look on his face. “So?”
“So Gary’s gotta be black cause he’s a snail, and snails are all slimy and yucky and gross.” JD shivered. “Evil, too,” he muttered, sotto voice, unaware of Vin shaking his head perplexedly beside him.
Chris knew the moment it fell together for Buck - all the small things that they had thought were just Vin and JD being quirky suddenly had an explanation, a reason they'd never even suspected. The way Vin never modeled Chris's wardrobe - even though he modeled near everything else he did. Buck had wondered about it a few times, seeing how hard Vin tried to be just like Chris, and remembering that Adam had always tried to dress like his daddy. The way that even though Vin had lingered over a deep pine green comforter, he had chosen instead a bright red one to decorate their room. In fact, if Chris recalled the room correctly, there wasn't a swatch of green or black anywhere in the place. The way JD always choked on his vegetables, no matter how small they were cut up for him. The way that JD fastidiously avoided touching grass with bare skin.
Buck turned to him, groaning. Chris shrugged his shoulders, and watched as the second realization in as many minutes crossed his friend's face, quickly chased away by the look of understanding and sympathy. Chris nodded, a small, self-deprecating smile twisting his lips.
Finally, Buck motioned for Dr. Lowery to turn off the intercom. “Oh, Chris,” he said softly, “Chris, I’m so sorry. What are you going to do?”
Chris rocked back on his heels, thinking. One night soon after Sarah and their son, Adam, had died, he’d thrown his clothes out in a fit of drunken grief. Everything had reminded him of his loved ones: Sarah’s favorite shirt, the shirt Adam had barfed on when he’d gotten chicken pox. It had all been too painful to bear, and he’d been too heartsick to even try. Buck had come to the ranch to find him sobbing in a rather appropriate rainstorm, torn and muddied clothes around him. His friend had said nothing, simply put the man to bed, and the next day, Chris had found a pair of black jeans and a black t-shirt next to a set of black sweats in his closet, and a cleaned-up yard outside.
He’d replaced the rest of his wardrobe with black clothes, also. It had been so hard for him to enter into the malls and department stores without remembering trips with Sarah and Adam. It had been quicker, at least, to buy only black - it minimized the time he had to spend in the store, and maximized the time he could spend locked in grief. Even after living hadn’t hurt so much, buying black had been a habit he’d kept. Sarah had bought most of his shirts and sweaters after they’d married, since he hated buying clothes. They’d both grinned over the traditional arrangement, and Sarah claimed that he’d wear his things to bare threads if he’d had to do buy his own stuff. She was just about right, too. Buying black clothes minimized the choices he had to make, and minimized his aggravation with the whole process, however necessary it was.
Nor was Chris so unaware of his social environment as to be ignorant of the contribution his wardrobe made to his reputation. ‘The Man in Black’ was well aware that his reputation as a grief-stricken, hard-drinking widower had brought him the sympathy of his colleagues, the opportunity to enforce his own policies towards his team at the ATF, and the fear and respect of his enemies. His legendary temper might lose its power if he tempered it with less aggressive dress.
All that paled in comparison to the needs of one little boy, wrestling with something he could barely comprehend, but was no less real for all that. It really wasn’t that much to do at all.
“Well, I guess I’m going shopping for new clothes,” he said, obviously startling his best friend. Chris raised his eyebrows. How had Buck missed his transition from the bitter, broken man he’d been? Especially since the big lug had had such a hand in keeping him together? Maybe, Chris thought, Buck had been too wrapped up in keeping everything together to see the difference he’d made. He reminded himself to thank his friend later. Later, but soon.
“Don’t get any ideas about practical jokes, Buck,” he warned, as Buck’s eyes began to take on his trademark twinkle. “I’m still wearing black at the office. It’s… professional. Sophisticated.”
“And you have a reputation to maintain.”
“And I have a reputation to maintain,” Chris agreed, his own mouth twitching into a smile.
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Epilogue
JD hated black. It felt thick and oily, and he always got a picture of himself choking in liquid crud when he saw it. He had nightmares about it sometimes - surrounded by nothing but black, unable to escape the darkness churning around him. The first time he trotted downstairs to find Mr. Chris in blue sweats and a NAVY tee prepping breakfast, he stopped in surprise, completely taken aback by the fact that the third presence in the house was, in fact, another human. People were interesting to JD, always so different from each and yet so alike. He found it fascinating, these patterns of differences and similarities, and the joy he felt at realizing he had a new person to learn about had him running to Mr. Chris overflowing with questions he didn’t bother to repress.
“Whoa, there, Tiger,” Mr. Chris laughed, swinging him around in a circle like his Buck sometimes did before settling him deftly on one hip. Mr. Chris grinned at him like a demented angel.
“So, what are we going to do today?” Mr. Chris asked, and JD obligingly launched into an explanation of the very full and busy day he had planned. Mr. Chris, he found out in the next few weeks, generally wore some kind of sweats or shorts and a tee in the mornings. When JD had asked why, Mr. Chris said he had decided to start working out at the Federal Building, which had an entire gym inside. JD wanted to know how big a jungle gym had to be before an adult could play on it, and if he could play on the gym, too. Mr. Chris had laughed, but he wasn’t sure why. Adults were funny that way sometimes.
Mr. Chris often came home in his ‘work clothes’ - which were still the dreaded, oily black - but he changed as soon as he came inside into ‘barn gear’, the stained blue jeans and checked shirts he cleaned out the horses’ stalls in. JD was always amazed at how approachable Mr. Chris was after he changed clothes.
JD wasn’t fond of green, either - it was all hard and spiky. This texture was fun to play with and feel sometimes, but eating green things wasn’t something he was all that comfortable with. Despite repeated exposure, he could never stop imagining his green vegetables tearing great strips out of his throat as they went down. For his Buck, though, he would choke them down, firmly reminding himself that nothing had happened the last time he’d eaten broccoli or peas or green beans, and so it was probable nothing would happen this time, either. That didn’t change the fact that they tasted bad in addition to the unappetizing green color.
A few nights after he first saw Mr. Chris in his morning workout clothes, JD wandered into his Buck’s bedroom as the man changed from his own work clothes into something more suitable for doing chores. He climbed onto the bed, sitting on the edge and swinging his legs happily. It had been a good day, and even the cafeteria with its icky green color couldn’t make him sad.
“Hey, there, Little Bit,” his Buck greeted as he came out of his private bathroom, wearing only a pair of jeans. He ruffled JD’s hair affectionately as he crossed the room to his closet, and studied the hanging clothes before him.
“Hmm,” he said, snagging a green t-shirt with a local Irish pub’s logo on it, “can’t wear that one.” He tossed it into a box in the bottom of the closet that JD hadn’t seen before. JD’s brow wrinkled in confusion as his Buck ran through the closet, tossing various items into the box.
“Mr. Buck, what are you doing?” he finally asked.
“Well, Little Bit, I decided to give some clothes to the Good Will. They take gently used things and sell ‘em at a price poor people can afford. I got some things here I can’t use anymore, and I thought I’d help out some people who aren’t as well off as we are.”
JD hopped off the bed and trotted over to the box. “They’re all green!” He reared back in surprise.
“Yep. Remember the other day when I wore this,” his Buck pointed to the hunter green polo shirt, “and you were afraid of me?” JD shuddered and nodded. His Buck reached out and hugged him tightly to his chest. “I don’t ever want to hurt you like that again, so I’m getting rid of all the green things I own.”
JD considered this seriously. No one had ever gone to this much effort to protect him from bad things before, except Vin. And it occurred to him that as seemingly simple as it was for his Buck to remove green shirts and ties from his wardrobe, it must have been much harder for Mr. Chris to part with his habitual black garments. JD and Vin had gone into Mr. Chris’s room before to get a forgotten wallet or cell phone, and JD clearly remembered a closet full of black clothes, and thinking how alien Mr. Chris had to be to thrive with that oily sludge covering him. Not just the work clothes that were the only black things he saw lately, but also sweats, t-shirts, black denim jeans, black leather jackets, black nylon windbreakers… Mr. Chris must have gone shopping for a whole new set of clothes, just so he wouldn’t make JD afraid anymore. The thought was… bigger than he was; even with his advanced vocabulary, he just didn’t have the words to describe it. Maybe he could ask Dr. Will about it.
“JD?”
JD re-focused on his Buck. “I love you, Mr. Buck,” he said, wrapping his arm around Buck’s neck and hugging as tight as could.
“I love you, too, Little Bit… but I’d like to breathe now!”
JD broke off, giggling. Then another, very important thought crossed his mind. “Hey, does this mean I don’t have to eat broccoli anymore?” That would be very cool.
His Buck grinned down at him. “Sorry, Little Bit, you still have to eat your green vegetables. But Chris and I agreed that we’d drown ‘em in cheese sauce for you. Is that okay?”
JD nodded, thinking that was very much okay. Everything was better with cheese sauce on it, after all.
Finis
-bs
Parts 1 and 2 here.
********************************MAG 7: ATF LB AU**********************************
Part 3
The ride to Dr. Lowery’s the next morning was filled with JD’s typical high-speed chatter, which Buck responded to with his normal booming affection. Tentative questioning of his behavior the day before was met with confusion on the part of JD. Chris couldn't quite shake the feeling that JD's ignorance was faked, but if so, the performance was too well choreographed for him to pinpoint it.
Vin’s silence was not strained, simply distracted; the little boy gazed out the window at the passing scenery in fascination. Vin had been nodding over his cereal bowl, and the bags under his eyes indicated a restless night, but he, too, was projecting a false normality. Going by appearances, you’d never know anything had happened at all yesterday, except for the fact that they were going to an appointment with a child psychologist specializing in abused children.
*************MAG7: ATF LB AU*****************************
The family arrived at Dr. Lowery’s office promptly at 0740, and Chris signed them in while Buck got the kids settled in the play room one of the receptionists showed them too. The room doubled as a waiting area and observation room for Dr. Will’s patients. JD immediately took off for the box of Lincoln Logs, intent on building the world’s greatest log house out of the miniaturized construction materials. Vin more thoughtfully looked for a Batman coloring book and a box of crayons. Dr. Lowery spent some time assessing the family before he came out and smiled at his patients.
“Hello, Vin, JD. Hello Chris, Buck.”
Chris and Buck nodded politely at him while Vin and JD chorused, “Hi, Dr. Will!”
“Why don’t we get started? Chris, I know we discussed yesterday’s events over the phone, but I’d like to hear it again, and get everyone’s reactions this time,” Dr. Lowery began. He pulled out his notepad and began taking notes as Chris talked. By the end of the short narrative, he knew several things, things that worried him: One, Vin was both familiar with JD’s unusual behavior, and determined to minimize it. Two, JD himself was worried that he’d be somehow punished for something out of his control. And three, Chris and Buck had been truly disturbed to find out that their ‘normal’ JD had issues of his own. He knew he’d have to reassure them on that point. So much of their focus, his own included, had been on Vin, that they had all been guilty of minimizing any of the signs JD might have given off.
But as he watched JD throughout the narrative, he realized that the 5 year old was just as aware of his environment as Vin was. He was just better at passing as unaffected by events around him than his older ‘brother’. Better at passing. Dr. Will was very careful to show no expression, although the dismay he felt was momentarily overwhelming. JD was better at passing. Which meant he was better at hiding his problems than Vin. Which meant he had more experience than Vin with those problems, whatever they may be.
Feeling a little disconcerted at this revelation, and knowing now that he’d need to be at his best when it came to JD’s interview, he held out a hand to Vin as Chris wound down. “Thank you, Chris. Vin, will you come back to my office with me?”
Vin glanced over at Buck, JD, and Chris before rising slowly and nodding. He avoided taking Dr. Will’s hand, though, a sure sign he wasn’t too certain about trusting the man with what he knew just yet.
*****************MAG7: ATF LB AU**********************************
“So, Vin,” Dr. Will said after they had both settled into their respective chairs in his office, “what happened yesterday sounded pretty scary.”
Vin shrugged. He looked down at his hands, reminding himself not to twist them in his lap.
“You weren’t scared?”
Vin stared at his shoes.
“At all?”
His shoes were quite fascinating, really. The chair was so deep he couldn’t hang his legs down unless he sat almost all the way forward - he didn’t like that. For one, he liked having his back supported when he was sitting. It also brought him too close to Dr. Will, who had a tendency to ask him questions he didn’t want to answer. So he sat against the back rest and his feet hung just off the edge of the chair. He wiggled his toes; the laces bounced.
“Vin?” Dr. Will’s voice was a little more forceful and Vin shot him a sideways look.
“I know I would have been scared, just watching JD like that.”
Vin looked at his hands again, and began to set each finger on his right hand behind it’s neighbor.
Dr. Will sighed. “Vin, did Mr. Chris or Mr. Buck tell you why you’re here today?”
Vin nodded, but waited for Dr. Will to prompt him before answering. “It’s ‘cos they want you to find out what’s wrong with JD. And they think mebbe I know somethin’ that’ll help.”
“What do you think about that?”
Still Vin hesitated.
Dr. Will narrowed his eyes at him, and Vin groaned internally - that expression meant Dr. Will had picked up on something Vin’d rather he not have known.
“What do you think will happen if we find something wrong, Vin?”
“I - “ Vin choked to a stop, unaware of the desperately pleading look he gave Dr. Will.
“Are you worried that Buck and Chris will send JD away, Vin?”
Vin curled up on the chair and nodded miserably. “They said they won’t, but they tried to say last night that mebbe the ranch is bad fer JD. That mebbe Chris ‘n’ Buck are bad fer JD. It’s not - they’re not. I don’t want JD to leave.” Vin sniffled and scrubbed at his nose furiously - JD was counting on him, even if he didn’t know it. He had to be brave.
“Vin, I promise, Chris and Buck won’t send JD away - you won’t lose your brother.”
“How d’ya know fer sure?” Vin hadn’t meant it to come out quite so accusingly, but Dr. Will smiled gently at him.
“Two reasons. One, Buck loves JD, and would fight any attempt to remove your brother from his custody tooth and nail. Two, Chris loves you, and he wants you to have everything you need to be happy. He knows how much you love your brother and need him to be around him. So even if we found out something very seriously wrong with JD - and I don’t think we will - both Chris and Buck will make every effort to keep him with you. OK?”
Vin nodded, sniffling again. He hadn’t been here very long, but already he was tired.
“So, you said Chris and Buck think you might know something about how JD behaved yesterday,” Dr. Will began again. “Do you?”
Vin still wasn’t sure he should say anything - what if JD was too different for these adults to handle? It had happened before. About a month before Chris and Buck had found them, he and JD had gone to a Hallowe’en store on the off chance they might be able to grub some candy. Vin especially liked Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, while JD really wanted some SweetTarts. But the nasty old woman at the counter saw through their ‘innocent lost child’ act, and had chased them through the store.
Vin had hurried to hide them in among the costumes - there was a whole section of vampire’s capes that hung all the way to the ground. But JD had begun to shake and cry, rocking and rocking, and Vin couldn’t get him to stop, and even touching him seemed to make JD cry harder. The counter-lady pushed aside the costumes a few minutes later, muttering about them being bad, trying to make her feel sympathy for two ‘filthy little thieves’. She reached for JD, and Vin had jumped into action, telling the woman he’d get JD out of there himself if she’d just leave him alone. But she touched JD anyway, and the younger boy reacted by trying to make himself smaller, reflexively kicking out, just a little, nowhere near the lady.
“Ugh! Little rat!” she’d exclaimed, and she had hauled JD up and pushed him down the aisle toward the door. But JD wasn’t able to walk or stand, and he had fallen, not even trying to catch himself. “Stupid little brat - what’s wrong with you?!” the lady cried, and kicked, pushed, and smacked the boy right on out the door. Vin, helpless and scared, had followed, only able to shield JD from the worst of the blows.
The episode had really worried him - how could he protect JD if the kid couldn’t even respond to him? And Chris had touched JD yesterday when Vin told him not to - what would the other adults do if JD had too many problems for them to handle? Panicked, he blurted, “I don’ think nothin’s wrong with JD - he’s just different, that’s all. Ever’one says it’s ok to be different.”
Dr. Will nodded. “That’s right, Vin, it’s ok to be different.” He paused, glancing at the office door for a moment. Vin hoped he could leave then, but nope - Dr. Will wasn’t finished.
“So, how is JD different?” Again a pause, and then Dr. Will changed tactics on him. “Vin, I know you weren’t scared yesterday, you’re strong and brave and tried to protect JD, right?” Vin nodded, frowning. “Do you think JD was scared?”
“Yeah, he was scared,” Vin said softly.
Dr. Will nodded. “I think so, too. Do you think he deserves to be scared?”
Vin’s head shot up and he glared. “What? No! He should be safe an’ happy an’…”
“He shouldn’t have to be around scary stuff, should he?”
Vin agreed; no one deserved to be so scared they couldn’t do anything but cry. But he also knew that sometimes it just happened. He wasn’t sure anything could be done about it, and he said so.
“But if you could do something, could help JD not be scared anymore, would you do it?” Dr. Will asked.
“Yes!” Vin cried.
“Well, there is a way you can help him, Vin. You can tell me if you know what set him off. We’re all trying to help JD be not so scared, but we need to know what hurt him in order to help him. Will you tell me what you know so we can all help JD?”
Vin frowned. Could he really trust Dr. Will? It had scared Vin when he couldn’t get JD to stop crying, but he hadn’t been able to do anything about it then. But Dr. Will had helped Vin with scary feelings before. He had also helped Vin with his dyslexia, making it easier to handle and learn in school. Vin nodded to himself; this problem was pretty big, and he knew he needed someone’s help to handle it. Maybe Dr. Will could really do something to help JD.
“He…,” Vin stopped, trying to order his thoughts while Dr. Will waited patiently. “He doesn’t like some of the colors.”
“Oh?” Vin could tell by the surprise in Dr. Will’s voice that that was the last thing the therapist had expected him to say. But Vin forged on, a little desperate to make the man believe him.
“He tells me stories about them, sometimes.”
“Like what, Vin?”
“He says black feels bad to him - all slimey and gross. Dr. Will, I don’t understand - black is just…. black to me. It doesn’t feel like anything except crayon on paper!”
“What do you feel when you see black, Vin?”
Vin looked down, clutching his hands around his knees. “ ’Minds me of Mr.Chris,” he muttered.
“And that makes you feel…?”
“Safe.” Vin met Dr. Will’s eyes. “But JD, it’s like he don’t even see Mr. Chris - all he sees is the black clothes. And he’s scared of ‘em.”
Dr. Will was silent for a long time, then, thinking about what Vin had said. He was quiet for so long, in fact, that Vin began to get nervous. Had he done the right thing? It did seem kind of silly when he said it out loud like that. “Ah, hell, this is stupid!” he grumbled to himself.
“No, Vin, it’s not stupid,” Dr. Will said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you wondering. I was just thinking about what you said. It’s not so hard to avoid black - except for Mr. Chris’s clothes, of course. Can you tell me about another time when the color black gave him problems?”
So Vin haltingly told Dr. Will about Hallowe’en store, and the counter-lady, and the black vampire capes that would have hid them if JD hadn’t had a breakdown.
“Thank you for telling me that, Vin,” Dr. Will said gently. “That was very important for me to know.”
“Ca- Can I go back now?” asked Vin, feeling smaller than he had in a long while.
“Of course,” said Dr. Will, and opened the door for him. “And Vin? It wasn’t wrong to want some candy. She shouldn’t have hit you or JD.”
They walked back down the hallway to the play room, where Vin sidled to Chris’s side. He wanted so very much to feel Chris’s arms around him then, even though he wasn’t sure he deserved such comfort. He stared hard at the child-sized table and wished fervently for Chris to give him the comfort he couldn’t quite bring himself to ask for. He concentrated so fiercely that he was a little startled when Chris gently picked him up and settled Vin in his laps. Vin gasped in surprise but immediately snuggled back into the arms of the one man he was beginning to really trust with his heart.
“Well, then, JD, would you like to come talk to me?”
“Yeah! I can tell you about school and the pups and….” Vin listened to JD’s voice fade as he trotted down the hallway to Dr. Will’s office.
“Are you ok, Vin?” Chris asked softly, rubbing his arms.
Vin nodded, hugged himself and stifled a sniffle. Dr. Will had needed to know about JD so he could help his little brother. It wasn’t a betrayal, he reminded himself firmly. So why did he feel so bad?
*****************MAG7: ATF LB AU *********************************
When Dr. Lowery came back with JD from the therapy room, he looked thoughtful, a look which Buck figured did not bode well for either JD or himself as JD’s guardian.
“Well, what do ya’ think, Doc?” he asked, deciding to take the bull by the horns.
“I have some ideas, but I’d like to talk to you and Chris alone, if I may,” Lowery replied. “Why don’t you two come on back to my office while Vin and JD have some free time here in the play room?”
“Sure - I guess the ladies can watch them for a while,” Buck said, with a smile and a wink at the receptionists. They grinned back; Chris rolled his eyes.
Dr. Lowery led the way and waited for them to get comfortable before closing the office door and taking his own seat.
“So?” Chris had waited as patiently as he could, but when it came down to it, he just wanted the problem to be fixed.
“This… may be difficult to explain, Chris, Buck, so please bear with me. My preliminary testing indicates that JD may have synesthesia.”
“Syne-what?” Buck asked. Chris had never heard of it before, either.
“Synesthesia,” Lowery repeated. “It’s what happens when the brain interprets stimulation in one sense as stimulation in another sense. One of the most common variants is seeing colors associated with numbers or letters. The letter ‘R’ might be seen as an orange color, or the number '2' might appear in red to a patient. JD appears to be experiencing this with his letters and numbers.”
“Appears to be?”
Lowery smiled slightly at Chris. “Yes, appears. We must all admit that JD has a vivid imagination and while that is to his credit, it can make diagnosing a sensory issue such as this a bit difficult. The only real way to be sure is to record today’s results and repeat the tests several times. Consistent answers are the key: If JD is consistent in his answers, it’s a good bet that he has grapheme-color synesthesia.”
“Ok, so he sees different-colored numbers,” Buck said with a puzzled frown. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Good question, Buck. People with one type of synesthesia often express other types of synesthesia. There isn’t an easy way to tell with what I’ve got available here, but that might be what's going on here. JD could well have another form of synesthesia that he doesn’t cope with quite as easily.”
“If that’s the case, how do we deal with it?”
“There are some sensory integration therapies we’d use, but I’m afraid that synesthesia might not be all of JD’s problems.” Lowery hesitated. “JD’s exhibiting some… developmental delays that I have to admit I just didn’t expect.”
“Development delays?” Buck’s voice rose incredulously. “Doc, that boy is the smartest kid I know! Heck, he’s smarter than me, and it’s just about all I can do to keep up with him sometimes!”
Lowery made a soothing gesture with his hands. “I’m not talking about his intelligence, Buck, not exactly. There are several developmental markers outside of intelligence that most children display by his age. There’s a chance that it’s something intrinsic to his brain structure.”
“Like what? You can’t tell me he’s brain damaged!”
“No, this would be an issue similar to Vin’s dyslexia, if what I suspect is correct. However, given the diagnostic complexities involved, we need to confirm my suspicions before we move ahead.”
Diagnostic complexities? Chris frowned. “What aren’t you telling us, Doctor?”
“I think JD may have Asperger’s syndrome. But I don’t have the expertise to diagnose something like this myself. The symptoms can be very subtle, and given the boys’ past, it’s best to be certain. JD’s current responses may all stem from some of his experiences on the street, and if we misdiagnose him now, that could be disastrous later. We need to be sure of what we’re dealing with. The only way to do that is some rather exhaustive testing.”
Chris hesitated, looking at Buck. Since Buck was JD’s legal guardian, it would be up to him to make the final decision. The big man looked troubled and worried.
“I don’t want to say ‘no’, but just how much is this all going to cost? Is it covered by insurance?” Buck asked.
“It’s rather fortunate that you are just legal guardians of the boys right now. As wards of the state, these tests will be paid for by Social Services,” Lowery said, much to Buck’s obvious relief.
“All right, Doc, what’s the first one?”
“I’ll make some calls, but I believe the first step is to have a complete assessment of his intelligence levels - both emotional and intellectual.”
********************MAG 7:ATF LB AU***********************************************************
3 Months Later:
It had been grueling few months, filled with a bewildering array of specialists and their tests. One by one, the diagnoses came in. A slight case of dyspraxia. Mathematical and verbal intelligence through the roof. Emotional intelligence lower than usual. Difficulty in recognizing body language and facial expressions. Easily overloaded senses. Senses that were cross-wired. Finally, it was all over; today’s appointment with Dr. Lowery was just to hear his summary diagnosis: Asperger’s syndrome. Chris watched the boys play in the therapy room and listened to the child psychologist explain one of JD’s more urgent issues.
“Green?” Buck asked. "A color hurts him? How is that even possible?” Chris was sympathetic. The whole team had done a lot of research into the potential problems and issues of Asperger's syndrome and synesthesia after Buck and Chris had reported Dr. Lowery's suspicions three months before. As the evidence for the diagnosis piled up, Buck and Chris had had several long discussions with Josiah and Nathan, dissecting the potential problems and issues they would have to take into consideration. Even so, it was hard to understand all the factors involved.
“Remember when we discovered JD’s synesthesia?" the psychologist said quietly, as the three men continued to watch the boys play through the one way mirror. “Apparently JD has a color-touch variation. Such a perception is more difficult to diagnose than the more common cross-connections, but it’s important you understand that he’s not making this up. He’s having a consistent reaction to colors in the form of physical sensations, and it is as real to him as night and day is to you and me.”
“I have to admit it sounds crazy, doc.” Chris said, himself still uncertain of how such a thing might happen.
“I know. But listen to them a minute.” Dr. Lowery pressed a button on the intercom beside him.
JD and Vin sat at the bright yellow, plastic, child-sized table in the playroom, having both decided to color this morning. Dr. Lowery had several coloring books featuring various cartoon characters the children were familiar with, and often encouraged his young patients to pick out their favorites and talk to him about them. JD had chosen a coloring book with Spongebob Squarepants, while Vin contentedly filled in the outlined figures of Scooby Doo and Shaggy. They had, rather typically, dumped all the crayons out between them so each could grab what they wanted.
Vin’s tongue stuck out of his mouth, an endearing sign that he was concentrating hard on making sure he stayed inside the lines with the colors - colors he’d picked so that the resulting picture would look just like it came off the tv show. JD, in an unusual burst of creativity, was coloring everything in an original color, mostly bright shades. He seemed to be staying away from greens and dark shades, frowning once or twice as a crayon produced a different color than he expected. There was no black anywhere in the picture, and even the shoes, which were inked in black, were covered up in bright orange construction paper JD had torn to the proper size and tried to adhere with…something. Chris suspected spit or snot - he’d have to talk to JD about germs, he thought. But why would JD cover up the shoes?
JD grabbed a blue crayon, saying, “I like blue, I’m gonna make his floor blue.”
Vin cocked his head consideringly. “I thought his floor was s’posed to be green?”
“Yeah, but that’s silly - who wants to walk on a green floor all the time? It’d be like walking on a bunch of nails, with all the pointy ends up.” JD spent a little more time coloring, deeper here, lighter there - Chris realized with some bemusement that JD was deliberately shading his drawing, although he wasn’t getting shadows placed correctly.
“Hey,” JD asked suddenly, “Did you ever wonder why Shaggy wears green all the time? You think he’s got scars and stuff from his shirt? I bet that’s why he never takes it off…”
Buck’s eyebrows rose in astonishment. “So he connects colors to physical pain?” He looked beseechingly at Dr. Lowery - Buck loved all the glorious, riotous colors in the world. His love of colors probably explained the number of Parrot-head posters he owned. It undoubtedly explained his fashion sense.
“Not all colors,” Dr. Lowery assured him, “Just some. You’re not going to have to keep him in a white cube. With some therapy - the sensory integration therapy we discussed earlier - he’ll be just fine.”
Buck sighed, glancing over at Chris. “That’s good - hey, what’s wrong, Pard?”
Chris was still staring intently into the playroom. “Just watch,” he said, and Buck turned back to watch the boys more closely. He kept throwing little looks over at Chris, probably waiting for him to say something more, but Chris held his peace.
In the playroom, Vin looked up from his own drawing of Scooby Doo and Shaggy. “That’s wrong, JD - Gary is s’posed to be blue with a red shell, not black.”
JD shrugged. “I’m not drawing him wrong, Vin, the tv gets it wrong! ‘Member the snails at the pond?”
Vin nodded, a puzzled look on his face. “So?”
“So Gary’s gotta be black cause he’s a snail, and snails are all slimy and yucky and gross.” JD shivered. “Evil, too,” he muttered, sotto voice, unaware of Vin shaking his head perplexedly beside him.
Chris knew the moment it fell together for Buck - all the small things that they had thought were just Vin and JD being quirky suddenly had an explanation, a reason they'd never even suspected. The way Vin never modeled Chris's wardrobe - even though he modeled near everything else he did. Buck had wondered about it a few times, seeing how hard Vin tried to be just like Chris, and remembering that Adam had always tried to dress like his daddy. The way that even though Vin had lingered over a deep pine green comforter, he had chosen instead a bright red one to decorate their room. In fact, if Chris recalled the room correctly, there wasn't a swatch of green or black anywhere in the place. The way JD always choked on his vegetables, no matter how small they were cut up for him. The way that JD fastidiously avoided touching grass with bare skin.
Buck turned to him, groaning. Chris shrugged his shoulders, and watched as the second realization in as many minutes crossed his friend's face, quickly chased away by the look of understanding and sympathy. Chris nodded, a small, self-deprecating smile twisting his lips.
Finally, Buck motioned for Dr. Lowery to turn off the intercom. “Oh, Chris,” he said softly, “Chris, I’m so sorry. What are you going to do?”
Chris rocked back on his heels, thinking. One night soon after Sarah and their son, Adam, had died, he’d thrown his clothes out in a fit of drunken grief. Everything had reminded him of his loved ones: Sarah’s favorite shirt, the shirt Adam had barfed on when he’d gotten chicken pox. It had all been too painful to bear, and he’d been too heartsick to even try. Buck had come to the ranch to find him sobbing in a rather appropriate rainstorm, torn and muddied clothes around him. His friend had said nothing, simply put the man to bed, and the next day, Chris had found a pair of black jeans and a black t-shirt next to a set of black sweats in his closet, and a cleaned-up yard outside.
He’d replaced the rest of his wardrobe with black clothes, also. It had been so hard for him to enter into the malls and department stores without remembering trips with Sarah and Adam. It had been quicker, at least, to buy only black - it minimized the time he had to spend in the store, and maximized the time he could spend locked in grief. Even after living hadn’t hurt so much, buying black had been a habit he’d kept. Sarah had bought most of his shirts and sweaters after they’d married, since he hated buying clothes. They’d both grinned over the traditional arrangement, and Sarah claimed that he’d wear his things to bare threads if he’d had to do buy his own stuff. She was just about right, too. Buying black clothes minimized the choices he had to make, and minimized his aggravation with the whole process, however necessary it was.
Nor was Chris so unaware of his social environment as to be ignorant of the contribution his wardrobe made to his reputation. ‘The Man in Black’ was well aware that his reputation as a grief-stricken, hard-drinking widower had brought him the sympathy of his colleagues, the opportunity to enforce his own policies towards his team at the ATF, and the fear and respect of his enemies. His legendary temper might lose its power if he tempered it with less aggressive dress.
All that paled in comparison to the needs of one little boy, wrestling with something he could barely comprehend, but was no less real for all that. It really wasn’t that much to do at all.
“Well, I guess I’m going shopping for new clothes,” he said, obviously startling his best friend. Chris raised his eyebrows. How had Buck missed his transition from the bitter, broken man he’d been? Especially since the big lug had had such a hand in keeping him together? Maybe, Chris thought, Buck had been too wrapped up in keeping everything together to see the difference he’d made. He reminded himself to thank his friend later. Later, but soon.
“Don’t get any ideas about practical jokes, Buck,” he warned, as Buck’s eyes began to take on his trademark twinkle. “I’m still wearing black at the office. It’s… professional. Sophisticated.”
“And you have a reputation to maintain.”
“And I have a reputation to maintain,” Chris agreed, his own mouth twitching into a smile.
***********************MAG7: ATF LB AU********************
Epilogue
JD hated black. It felt thick and oily, and he always got a picture of himself choking in liquid crud when he saw it. He had nightmares about it sometimes - surrounded by nothing but black, unable to escape the darkness churning around him. The first time he trotted downstairs to find Mr. Chris in blue sweats and a NAVY tee prepping breakfast, he stopped in surprise, completely taken aback by the fact that the third presence in the house was, in fact, another human. People were interesting to JD, always so different from each and yet so alike. He found it fascinating, these patterns of differences and similarities, and the joy he felt at realizing he had a new person to learn about had him running to Mr. Chris overflowing with questions he didn’t bother to repress.
“Whoa, there, Tiger,” Mr. Chris laughed, swinging him around in a circle like his Buck sometimes did before settling him deftly on one hip. Mr. Chris grinned at him like a demented angel.
“So, what are we going to do today?” Mr. Chris asked, and JD obligingly launched into an explanation of the very full and busy day he had planned. Mr. Chris, he found out in the next few weeks, generally wore some kind of sweats or shorts and a tee in the mornings. When JD had asked why, Mr. Chris said he had decided to start working out at the Federal Building, which had an entire gym inside. JD wanted to know how big a jungle gym had to be before an adult could play on it, and if he could play on the gym, too. Mr. Chris had laughed, but he wasn’t sure why. Adults were funny that way sometimes.
Mr. Chris often came home in his ‘work clothes’ - which were still the dreaded, oily black - but he changed as soon as he came inside into ‘barn gear’, the stained blue jeans and checked shirts he cleaned out the horses’ stalls in. JD was always amazed at how approachable Mr. Chris was after he changed clothes.
JD wasn’t fond of green, either - it was all hard and spiky. This texture was fun to play with and feel sometimes, but eating green things wasn’t something he was all that comfortable with. Despite repeated exposure, he could never stop imagining his green vegetables tearing great strips out of his throat as they went down. For his Buck, though, he would choke them down, firmly reminding himself that nothing had happened the last time he’d eaten broccoli or peas or green beans, and so it was probable nothing would happen this time, either. That didn’t change the fact that they tasted bad in addition to the unappetizing green color.
A few nights after he first saw Mr. Chris in his morning workout clothes, JD wandered into his Buck’s bedroom as the man changed from his own work clothes into something more suitable for doing chores. He climbed onto the bed, sitting on the edge and swinging his legs happily. It had been a good day, and even the cafeteria with its icky green color couldn’t make him sad.
“Hey, there, Little Bit,” his Buck greeted as he came out of his private bathroom, wearing only a pair of jeans. He ruffled JD’s hair affectionately as he crossed the room to his closet, and studied the hanging clothes before him.
“Hmm,” he said, snagging a green t-shirt with a local Irish pub’s logo on it, “can’t wear that one.” He tossed it into a box in the bottom of the closet that JD hadn’t seen before. JD’s brow wrinkled in confusion as his Buck ran through the closet, tossing various items into the box.
“Mr. Buck, what are you doing?” he finally asked.
“Well, Little Bit, I decided to give some clothes to the Good Will. They take gently used things and sell ‘em at a price poor people can afford. I got some things here I can’t use anymore, and I thought I’d help out some people who aren’t as well off as we are.”
JD hopped off the bed and trotted over to the box. “They’re all green!” He reared back in surprise.
“Yep. Remember the other day when I wore this,” his Buck pointed to the hunter green polo shirt, “and you were afraid of me?” JD shuddered and nodded. His Buck reached out and hugged him tightly to his chest. “I don’t ever want to hurt you like that again, so I’m getting rid of all the green things I own.”
JD considered this seriously. No one had ever gone to this much effort to protect him from bad things before, except Vin. And it occurred to him that as seemingly simple as it was for his Buck to remove green shirts and ties from his wardrobe, it must have been much harder for Mr. Chris to part with his habitual black garments. JD and Vin had gone into Mr. Chris’s room before to get a forgotten wallet or cell phone, and JD clearly remembered a closet full of black clothes, and thinking how alien Mr. Chris had to be to thrive with that oily sludge covering him. Not just the work clothes that were the only black things he saw lately, but also sweats, t-shirts, black denim jeans, black leather jackets, black nylon windbreakers… Mr. Chris must have gone shopping for a whole new set of clothes, just so he wouldn’t make JD afraid anymore. The thought was… bigger than he was; even with his advanced vocabulary, he just didn’t have the words to describe it. Maybe he could ask Dr. Will about it.
“JD?”
JD re-focused on his Buck. “I love you, Mr. Buck,” he said, wrapping his arm around Buck’s neck and hugging as tight as could.
“I love you, too, Little Bit… but I’d like to breathe now!”
JD broke off, giggling. Then another, very important thought crossed his mind. “Hey, does this mean I don’t have to eat broccoli anymore?” That would be very cool.
His Buck grinned down at him. “Sorry, Little Bit, you still have to eat your green vegetables. But Chris and I agreed that we’d drown ‘em in cheese sauce for you. Is that okay?”
JD nodded, thinking that was very much okay. Everything was better with cheese sauce on it, after all.
Finis
-bs