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It’s in the middle of the day when Mylo comes storming up the stairs from the basement. Vander, who’d been in the process of stocking the shelves behind the bar pauses and glances over his shoulder.
“Everything alright?”
“Yes!” Mylo huffs, throwing his arms out. “Splendid! I’m just going outside to take a piss since her royal majesty Vi is barrackading the bathroom.”
With that the young boy shoves the door to The Last Drop open and disappears outside.
Immediately after, Claggor appears at the top of the stairs, a pouting Powder perched on top of his wide shoulders.
“He’s right, for once.” Powder mutters, her nose scrunched up as if she’s just smelt something particularly nasty. “She’s been in there for ages.”
Vander chuckles and turns to face the children. “I’m sure she just had too much of Jericho’s food. Nothing to worry about.”
“It’s been two hours.” Claggor rubs at his scalp sheepishly. “She even snapped at Powder.”
Now that is unusual. While Vi certainly doesn’t possess an abundance of calm and patience, she rarely lashes out at her younger sister.
Vander sighs deeply. “Right. I’ll talk to her.”
Claggor nods and pats Powder’s knee. “Let’s go after Mylo. Or do you want to go to the junk-keep and find Little Man?”
“Little Man!” Powder cheers and then they’re on their way.
Which leaves Vander with the duty to try to sort out his oldest protege. The bar is mostly empty, with just a few trustworthy regulars around, so he abandons his post behind the bar desk and climbs down the stairs.
Finding the door to the small bathroom locked he gives it a firm knock. “Vi? You alright, kiddo?”
“Leave me alone.”
“You’re worrying the others, what’s going…”
“Fuck off!”
Scoffing, he slams his palm against the door. “Oi. I’m having none of that attitude.”
“Just… go away.”
He hears it then. The faintest tremble to her voice. Immediately he’s on full alert, body tense as he tries the handle again. “Vi. Open the door.”
She’s scared.
“I said to leave me alone!”
“Now, Violet.”
Vi doesn’t respond and Vander feels the chill of anxiety spreading through his body like wildfire. Something is obviously wrong.
“If you don’t open the damn door in the next five seconds I’m breaking it down.”
There’s a muffled swear from inside and the next moment the door is unlocked and pushed wide open.
Vi crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the doorframe, not meeting Vander’s eyes.
Some of the fear settles as he takes her in and confirms that she looks fine, no visible injuries anywhere. Or, well, mostly fine, he realizes with a frown. She wears her default surly expression, brows furrowed, but something feels off.
His adoptive daughter seems unusually pale and still refuses to meet his gaze.
“Vi? Talk to me, sweetheart. What’s wrong?”
Her carefully fixed expression crumbles and she takes a shuddering inhale. Wide, pale eyes finally look up at Vander and the fear in them feels like a knife to the gut.
“I’m…” She starts, voice shaking. “I… I don’t know. I think I’m sick.”
She hunches in on herself and Vander reaches out to put a steadying hand on her shoulder. Before he can touch her, Vi flinches. “Don’t,” She says, but it comes out more plea than demand.
Vander lets his hand drop back down, fingers curling towards his palm. “Sick how?”
“It’s weird.” She ducks her head, lowering her gaze to the floor. “My stomach hurts, badly. And I’m nauseous and off and tired and…” Her voice thins out into a barely audible whisper. “I’m bleeding. From inside.”
Oh. Oh.
Of course.
Vi’s 13. His girl is 13. She’s no longer a little kid.
Time is running away from him, leaving him stranded, helpless. Trapped.
It feels like it was yesterday he brought his people to that cursed bridge, hoping for change, for the future, for revolution. It feels like it was yesterday he left his gauntlets behind in the dirt, exchanging them for two lost and broken children.
Now his oldest girl is growing up, becoming a woman, and there is no maternal figure around to support her. To calm her and guide her.
The face of Vi and Powder’s mother flashes in front of his eyes and he feels his eyes become misty.
“Vander?” Vi’s voice is faint, but it’s enough to pull him from the dark depths of his mind and back to the present.
Her gray eyes take in whatever lost expression is etched on his face and her jaw clenches. “It’s serious, isn’t it?”
Damn it all. By acting like a sentimental fool he’s frightened her worse. He’s not sure why he’s being all emotional anyway. Compared to what he was worrying about, Vi’s ailments are nothing. Nothing is wrong.
“No.” He smiles at her, finally allowing himself to feel relief. “Or well, I guess you could say it’s serious, but it’s natural. It’s supposed to happen.”
Vi stares at him as if he’s lost his head, her arms still wrapped tightly around her stomach. “What?”
Then, it hits him. He really is about to have to explain the wonders of the female body to Vi. Oh, god. Oh, someone help him.
“Um,” he starts, far from confident. “The bleeding. It happens to girls, as they get older.”
“Why?” Vi is starting to look less scared and more angry, and Vander would love to sink through the floor right about now.
He’s an ex rebel! A bar owner! He is not equipped to handle this situation.
“Ah, well. You see. It’s a sign, uh, that is, your body is telling you it’s ready to have children.”
Vi’s eyes widen to the size of platters and she stares at him, accusingly, as if this somehow is his fault.
“I’m not ready to have children!” She spits, now turning her glare on her own stomach instead. “It’s supposed to be this way? My body is supposed to do this? That’s bullshit!”
She’s so angry, so betrayed by her own body, so offended, that Vander can’t help but let out a huff of amusement.
Vi hears it, because of course she does, and her expression darkens. “You think this is funny?”
“No, no I…”
“You think it’s funny my gut is wrestling itself and I just used up my last bandages?”
“No, of course not. It’s not…” Vander pauses, realizing what she just said. “Your… But Vi, you can’t use your bandages for… that.”
“Well what the fuck am I supposed to use then?!”
Vander opens his mouth to answer. It hangs open. What does one use? Some kind of pad, right? Where the hell is he going to get pads?
The answer comes to him like a saving angel from above.
“Let’s go to Babette’s. They can explain all of this better than I can. And they’ll have eh, the right supplies.” He reaches for her but she ducks under his arm, scoffing.
“I’ll go by myself.”
Vander frowns, not liking the thought of letting her out of his sight until she’s calmed down. “Vi…”
“Nope, no way.” She shakes her head violently. “This is embarrassing enough, already.”
Knowing it’s a losing battle, he sighs and reaches for his pipe. “Just be careful, alright?”
“I’m always careful.” She rolls her eyes but gives his arm a comforting pat.
Then she’s off, leaving Vander outside the bathroom, pipe in hand, feeling twenty years older.
-
Barely an hour passes before Vi returns. Vander is back behind the bar, wiping down the desk and chit chatting with one of the regulars when she appears at the door.
“Hey,” he greets her, taking in the shell shocked look on her face and the tight clutch of her fingers around an unfamiliar dainty, satin bag. “How did it go?”
Her head snaps up and she glares at him, eyes full of rage. “You!” She snarls. “You’re really fucking lucky, you know that?”
“Eh,” Vander starts, but Vi has already turned to the regular, pointing a furious finger at him. “You too! All of you,” she fumes, addressing the few men loitering about the bar, “are so bloody fortunate, and you don’t even know it!”
She stomps down the stairs in a fury, leaving confused patrons in her wake.
“Teenage girls.” The regular in front of Vander shudders. “There’s nothing quite as terrifying.”
“Shut your mouth.” Vander warns, but then Vi slams the door to the bathroom shut so hard the glasses on the shelves tremble and dust falls from the ceiling, and, begrudgingly, he agrees.
- - -
Vi getting her monthly bleeding kicks off some of the more demanding parenting days Vander’s had since the very beginning.
(Of course, it has nothing on the start of it, when Mylo wouldn’t speak for weeks, Claggor couldn’t eat without throwing up, Powder would have mental breakdowns if she had to let go of her sister and Vi’s eyes were full of darkness.)
His oldest daughter practically disappears, doing god knows what during the day and only coming back home late at night.
Vi’s always been on the bottom, never having control over anything in her miserable life. She’s lived her whole life in the undercity, powerless to help either herself or her beloved sister out of it. She’s lost everything to those more fortunate. And now, the last thing she did have control over, her own body, is betraying her.
She is angry, so angry, at the unfairness of it all.
So Vander lets her go. He gives her space and time, knowing she’ll come back to take care of the rest of the group as soon as she’s made somewhat peace with herself.
He is worried, sure, but Vi can take care of herself. Besides, everyone in the undercity knows to not lay a hand on any of his kids. The last one who tried ended up with two broken arms.
Vi’s sudden absence, both physically and mentally rattles the rest of the kids badly. She’s their leader, their pillar and structure, and without her, even for very brief periods of time, the structure crumbles.
They are all so fragile, still. Hurt and lost and so very dependent on each other, the group and the order of command.
Vander knows it’s his fault. That he’s spent too little time with them, too little time building them up, making them feel safe. There just isn’t enough time. There never was enough time. Instead, he’s somehow ended up delegating half of the parenting duties to Vi, taking more care in raising her and hoping she would do the same to the others.
Which of course is neither right, sustainable or healthy.
To be honest, he wasn’t near ready to spontaneously adopt four children after the attack. It was a reckless, stupid decision.
But he had no other choice. Not at that point.
The morning after his and Vi’s talk, Vander finds Claggor lounging in the alley outside of the bar. He’s leant up towards the wall, a small book in hand, but his gaze is far away, lost in another place, another time.
Vander has to call his name three times before the boy snaps to attention, almost dropping his book in surprise.
“You’re up early.” Vander raises one eyebrow, taking in the boy’s rumpled appearance and wondering if he ever went to bed at all.
“Ah, yeah.” Claggor says, quickly shoving the book into his pocket. “I like the mornings. It’s quiet. Or,” he shrugs, a small smile on his face, “quieter.”
Vander nods, considering for a moment before dropping the bag of goods he was going to drop off to the ground, and joining Claggor, leaning up against the same wall. “That a new book?”
Claggor loves to read, that much Vander knows, but there isn’t a great deal of books in the undercity, and by the way the boy hid this one, it seems special.
“Yes.” A faint blush paints Claggor’s cheeks and he puts a hand over his pocket as if afraid Vander will try to take it from him. “It was a gift.”
“A gift, huh?” Vander hums, reaching for his pipe and lighting it. “From whom?”
Claggor is silent for a moment, quite obviously debating whether to tell Vander the truth or not. “From a girl. A topsider. Please don’t tell the others.”
“I won’t.” Vander takes a deep puff and exhales before glancing down at the boy, grinning. “Tell me more about this lass of yours.”
“Oh, she’s not… We’re not. Um.” Claggor stammers, face reddening. “It’s just, I’ve spent some time outside the library lately, the less fancy one, by the docks. And I met her there. She’s topside but very kind.” A shy smile spreads over his face. “She’s not super rich you know? Well, uh, compared to us… But she’s sweet and empathic and…”
Vander listens to him as he rambles on, contently puffing on his pipe.
“She goes to this cool school too, and wants to go to the academy when she gets older. She…” He pauses briefly, the grin falling from his face. “She says I could try, too. To get into the academy, later. Says there are scholarships that I could apply for.”
Vander glances at him again, frowning when he sees the exhausted, hopeless look on the boy’s face. “You’re an intelligent kid, Claggor. There’s always a chance.”
“But there isn’t.” Claggor sighs. “I’m way too far behind on schooling. And, even if I somehow managed to get in, everyone would hate me, you know they would.”
“Maybe. Maybe in the beginning. But they’d come around.” Vander carefully chooses his next words. “You only get one life, boy. You shouldn’t let others decide what you do with it.”
Claggor peers at him through those ridiculous goggles, a wry smile on his lips. “Isn’t that what we always do, though? In the undercity? Let others decide what we can and can’t do with our lives?”
Touche.
Vander doesn’t know how ro respond to that and takes another long puff on his pipe.
“Anyway,” Claggor continues, mercifully changing the subject, “one can always dream.”
“What would you like to study, if you had the chance?” Vander asks, genuinely curious.
“Psychology.” Claggor answers immediately before frowning, “or literature. One of those. I just think the human mind is fascinating.”
He dives into a passionate recital about brain functions, relationships and feedback loops. Vander listens to him as best he can, even if he doesn't recognize half of the fancy words. He smokes and listens to his kid as the undercity wakes up all around them.
And, he decides, that come what may, he’ll work his ass off to make sure Claggor gets a chance at one of those scholarships.
- - -
Powder has always been very light on her feet.
This is the reason Vander doesn’t notice her until she’s behind the bar desk with him, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt.
It’s late night, way past her bedtime, and the bar is full of rowdy patrons, playing pool, getting drunk and having a generally good time.
Vander’s very busy at the bar, filling cups of ale and glasses of stronger stuff continuously, but one look at his younger girl’s wet face makes him abandon the order he was making.
“Benzo,” he calls to his friend as he scoops Powder up and into his arms, “I need a hand at the bar.”
Benzo, who’d been winning the game of pool, rolls his eyes, mutters something to the other players who make them laugh but ultimately puts down his cue and walks over to the bar. “You owe me.” He points a chubby finger at Vander but his expression softens as he takes in the blue haired girl wrapped around his neck.
“I owe you.” Vander slaps a hand to his friend’s shoulder before hoisting Powder further up and carrying her down to the kids’ room in the basement.
“You should be asleep, love,” he grunts as he situates her back on her bed, “it’s almost midnight.”
Powder sniffles and pulls her knees up to her chest. “I know,” she says in that small voice of hers which makes Vander want to give her the world, “but I woke up. Mylo’s snoring,” she accuses, glaring towards the boys’ bunk bed further away. “And Vi’s not here.”
Vander glances at his other girl’s bed and yeah, it’s empty. He frowns. Midnight is way too late for her to be out on her own.
“I’m sure she’ll be back soon.” He soothes Powder, keeping his voice low as he ruffles her hair gently. “She just has a lot on her mind, that’s all.”
Powder wraps her arms tightly around her legs and sways. “I need her to be here with me.” She wipes at her wet cheeks. “I had a nightmare and woke up. And she’s not here!”
“Shh,” Vander hushes her, helping to dry her cheeks. “It’s alright. I’m here, right? And Mylo and Claggor, too.” He winks at her. “Even if they snore.”
“It’s not the same.” Powder pouts, but she looks a bit less disgruntled. “It was a scary dream.” She shudders and wraps her skinny arms around Vander’s when he pulls back. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep.”
Vander sighs inwardly. He needs to get back up to his business. Maybe he could wake one of the boys up to take care of Powder…
But then he meets her large, puppy eyed stare and he knows he’s lost.
“Alright.” He agrees, letting the young girl cuddle his arm. “You want me to tell you a story?”
“I want to draw!” Powder’s eyes light up and she’s already letting go of Vander to reach for her art supplies beneath the bed.
Vander spends the next hour kneeling on the floor, doing his best to draw rainbows and ponies per Powder’s request. She giggles at his drawings, a few times a bit too loud, causing Mylo to hiss at them from his side of the room.
When the young girl is drooping over her own drawing, yawning every other minute, Vander puts an end to their arts and crafts and tucks her back into bed.
-
When he returns to check on her after the bar’s closed, a good two hours later, he finds Powder curled up in Vi’s bed, tightly wrapped around her now present sister.
Vi must have gotten in without him noticing. Powder isn’t the only one who’s light on her feet.
- - -
Vander’s busy wiping down an especially stubborn blood stain on one of the bar tables when Mylo comes sneaking in. It’s obvious the boy tries to pass him without him noticing but unfortunately he has no such luck.
“Mylo!” Vander calls. “Perfect timing, come help me, the tables’ need a wipe down.”
“Oh, but I…”
“There’s a decently clean rag on the bar, grab that one.”
The boy sighs, but goes to grab it. He starts cleaning the tables on the other side of the room, unusually quiet.
“Everything good?” Vander asks, finally getting rid of the stain.
“Sure.”
Leaving the dirty rag on the table Vander stretches his aching shoulders, wincing, before walking over to the boy.
“Oi.” He says, stopping in front of Mylo and crossing his arms. “What’s this?” He nods towards Mylo’s face. He’s got a busted lip and is sporting a black eye.
“Nothing.” Mylo mutters, continuing to aggressively wipe down tables. “Got in a fight, that’s all.”
“You won?”
“Obviously.” Mylo says, too quickly, not meeting Vander’s eyes.
He lost.
Vander sighs deeply, sitting down heavily on one of the tables. The poor piece of wood groans beneath his weight but he pays it no mind. “What have I said about running around picking fights, hmm?”
“I didn’t start it!” Mylo protests, throwing the rag to the floor in a sudden rage. “He… he made fun of me, okay?”
“Mylo…”
“He laughed at me for getting bossed around by a girl. Said it wasn’t natural. And that I’m weak.”
Vander studies him closely. “You know that’s a load of crap, right?”
“Is it?” Mylo throws his arms out, the green of his eye bright against the bruised skin surrounding it. “Wouldn’t it make more sense if I lead the group? It would. Vi’s just barely older than me. But I’m not strong enough. I’m not strong enough and no one ever listens to me.”
The boy starts pacing back and forth and Vander keeps quiet, letting him vent.
“I’m so tired of being weak. Claggor hates fighting but he’s good at it. Vi’s better at kicking ass than I am, and she’s a girl! It’s only Powder who’s worse, and she’s just a kid and never gets any shit anyway!” He stops, bruised fists clenched. “No one ever takes me seriously.”
“Hey,” Vander says gently. “That’s not true. You don’t have to be good at fighting to be important to the group. They all need you, kiddo. You’re funny and optimistic, you make Claggor and Powder laugh and you calm Vi. You’re a quick thinker and smart, when you’re not running your mouth.”
Mylo’s shoulders, which had been hunched by his ears, relax minutely. “I guess.” He mutters. “But I’m still weak in fights.”
“You’re not.” Vander gets up and puts a firm hand on his shoulder. “Just inexperienced. To get good at fighting, you need to keep at it. Of course,” he smiles, fingers tightening on Mylo’s shoulder, “that does not make it okay to go around picking fights. But I could show you some moves, if you’d like.”
Mylo’s expression brightens. “Really? You’d do that?”
“Of course.” Vander gives him a final squeeze and a grin, wondering inwardly how he’ll manage to fit in fighting lessons in his schedule. Well, if Mylo and the others would help out more around the bar, maybe some hours would open up…
- - -
Almost exactly three days after Vander had threatened to break down the bathroom door to get to Vi, the girl comes walking into the bar.
Mylo and Claggor, who’d been fighting over who’d have to do the dishes, stop their argument and turn to her.
“Look what the cat dragged in!” Mylo grins, leaning on Claggor, their argument forgotten. “Haven’t seen you properly in days.”
Vi shrugs. “I can’t hang out with you losers all the time, can I?”
“Vi!”
Powder, who’d been by the bar desk, playing some kind of deranged board game with Ekko, rushes over the floor and throws herself at her sister.
Vi chuckles and spins the young girl in a circle before putting her back on her feet, stroking her head tenderly. “Hi, Powpow.”
She looks tired, Vander notices, tired, dirty and ruffled. But the tension in her body has decreased, the look in her eyes calmer now.
She’s accepted the situation and moved on. As he knew she would.
“Welcome home, kiddo.” He smiles, reaching for her personal cup to make her a drink.
Vi sighs, one arm still wrapped around Powder, and sends him a small smile in return.
“It’s good to be back.”