Chapter Text
Aaron sat on the hard chairs, forcing himself to sit up straight. He had to be strong. He was the only one left. His brother was…gone and no one would tell him anything. One of the police officers – a woman, with short hair and a kind smile – had taken his brother from his place in the chair beside Aaron without a word to spare for Aaron himself. His mother was in the hospital, no word on how she was doing either.
The boy flinched as disjointed images assaulted his senses. The off-white tiles swam in his vision and were replaced by flashes of a fist swinging again and again and again. A blood stain on the floor. Bottles rolling drunkenly off a sickly green couch. A dull thud as a body hit the floor. The smell of alcohol. The feel of carpet on his face.
Panic. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. It hurt, his face, his arm, his side. He had to save them, had to protect them. He was going to kill them. It was going to be his fault and he had to call someone and warn them and get help –
A hand gripped his shoulder and he was jolted back into the present to see a face hovering in his vision. His body was numb, eyes unfocused, and ears buzzing with a high-pitched squeal. Aaron concentrated and focused until the face became clear and the strange buzzing noise in his ears gave way to an unfamiliar voice.
As he stared at the man’s face (he had blond hair, green eyes, straight nose, come on, Aaron, focus), he began to pinpoint words from the steady, unending voice.
“You’re – don’t – I’m – police station – You’re alright – safe,” at an agonizingly slow pace, the random words became sentences, “Aaron, Aaron you’re okay. Don’t worry, you’re safe here. Come on breath for me, in and out, in and out. That’s it, you’re doing well. Keep going, kiddo.”
Aaron suddenly noticed that he was hyperventilating and tried desperately to calm down. He focused carefully on the voice and its instructions. They, along with the grounding hand on his shoulder, were the only things keeping him from being violently thrown into another flashback.
As he got his breathing under control, he focused on the world around him. The cold, plastic chair beneath him. The warm hand on his shoulder. The yellow lights and the dirty walls around him. Aaron knew from experience that the more he focused on the things around him, the calmer he would become. He knew where he was, he had to focus on that.
As the boy came back to himself, he began to shut himself off, throwing up a well practiced poker face as a shield against the world. He locked all the panic and emotions behind a thick wall that he had built. It had taken years, but he had had years, and he had perfected this art.
The blond-haired man watched as the boy closed himself off. He could only guess as to what was happening within his mind. His face was shuttered, like a curtain pulled across a window, hiding the occupants from view. All vestiges of the panic and pain he had just witnessed vanished as if into thin air.
The man tucked those thoughts away and waited for a moment to make sure the boy in front of him wasn’t going to break down again. When it was clear the moment was over, the man cleared his throat and got straight to the point, “Aaron, my name is Simon Goodell, but you can call me Simon. I’m a social worker and I’m here to help you. I know you have a lot of questions and I’m going to do my best to answer them. Before that though, are you hungry? Thirsty?”
The now seemingly emotionless boy shook his head. Throughout Simon’s short speech, his expression had not changed nor had he looked away from the man’s face. It was slightly unnerving, but nothing the man couldn’t work with.
“Okay, if you’re sure. Now, it’s getting to be pretty early, almost morning in fact. So, what do you say we get out of here, huh?”
Aaron had quickly realized that, as usual, he had little say in the matter and asking was more of a formality than anything. A pretty common theme he had noticed throughout his life so far.
He simply nodded, being careful to show none of what he was feeling, especially not to this stranger. Simon seemed nice but Aaron wasn’t quite ready to trust the man yet, he had fallen for acts just like this one too many times before.
Before delving too deeply into his thoughts, the boy stood up, following the man through the police station and into the early morning light. The duo stayed silent as they walked to and entered Simon’s car, a silver Kia.
Once inside, the blond man turned to the boy in the seat next to him, “Alright, kiddo, now I realize things are moving really fast but I need you to stay with me for just a little while longer. Do you know about what’s going on?”
For the first time, the boy spoke, “Yes, sir.”
The social worker’s brow furrowed, but a small smile appeared on his face, “Well, at least we got that sorted huh?” He laughed quietly to himself and made sure to respond playfully so the boy would know he was kidding, “Maybe you could expand on that? Add a little more detail, maybe?”
Aaron noticed that, while more of a request than last time, it was still very much expected that he would answer.
“My father was drinking and he lashed out and hit my mother. I sent my brother to hide and I went to make sure my mother was okay. I got in between them, he hit me, the police came in, and here we are.”
Short and sweet was all Aaron felt capable of at the moment. Anything more and his mask would crack again, and once today had been more than enough. Of course, there was more to the story then he had said, but he had been up all night, had a panic attack or flashback or whatever that had been, and was stuck with a man he knew nothing about, sue him if he was a little bit tired.
“Fair enough,” Simon said after a moment, no longer smiling but looking sympathetic instead, “Do you have any questions then?”
“Where’s my brother?”
The question had slipped out without a thought but had been a large concern of his since his brother had been taken by the police officer.
“Good question,” the man didn’t seem fazed, “Your brother was taken by Cindy to a nice foster family who happened to have a spot open up on short notice. He’s fine, not to worry, but they only had one spot and there are no places available with two spots, I checked. That’s why I took so long to come and get you.”
Simon looked apologetically at the boy and saw the emotionless mask drop for a split second before slamming into place even harder than before. What had been done to make this child so cut off from the world, he wondered. Rather than follow that thought for the moment, the man turned his attention back to the boy beside him who had his own attention focused on his knees, though he was still sitting up rigidly straight.
The social worker prepared himself to speak but the boy in front of him beat him to it.
“What about my mother?”
Well, this was exactly where Simon did not want this conversation to go.
“I’m really sorry, kiddo, but she didn’t make it. She had lost too much blood by the time the paramedics got her to the hospital.”
The boy’s mask slipped completely this time. He was absolutely devastated. All Aaron could think was that now he was alone. This was his fault, it had to be. Aaron didn’t know what he had done, but there was sure to be something, his father had always said he was a screw up and it looked like he had finally proved him right. Aaron was sure the bastard was laughing at him from his cell and gloating about just how right he really was.
After a moment, Aaron noticed his mask, his protection from the world, had slipped and he hastily tried to put it back on. It was hard and it took a moment, one that was far longer than he would have liked, but then it was done. This he knew. He could hide his emotions like a professional spy and he could walk the walk until he was everything that a person ever wanted, and that defense made him feel safe. If there was no reason to hurt him, then no one would. If they hurt him anyway, then he would make sure they’d never know. His emotions were his, and at this point were the only thing that he had left. These he would protect and from this point forward, he would decide what the world got to see.
With that thought, he schooled his expression and turned back to Simon, who was watching him intently.
“Are you sure you’re alright? It’s okay if you aren’t,” the man assured.
“Yes, I’m fine,” the boy answered shortly, looking over at the man and staring him in the eyes.
Knowing that he wasn’t going to get more than that, the social worker let another small smile creep onto his face as he turned away from the boy and turned on the car.
“In that case,” he began, “Let’s go get some breakfast and then we have some people I think you might like to meet.”
With those words, Aaron was thrown into the foster care system for the first time. He had both short-term and longer-term placements. He met people, even cared for some, but inevitably they were all pulled away before he could really get settled.
It hurt sometimes, knowing that he was unwanted, but that simply strengthened his resolve to cut himself off from the world. If the world didn’t care about him, then it had no right to know how he was feeling or what he was thinking.
He made sure to be a well-behaved child, becoming whatever the family wanted and always being the model, the example others were set to. Parents would tell the other kids in the house to act more like Aaron and yet no one seemed to want him anyway.
They always said the same things.
“He’s just a little…odd.”
“We don’t have any room.”
“I don’t think this is the best place for him.”
It went on and on. He went from the Johnston’s (they were nice), to the Smith’s (they were…less nice), to Mrs. Matheson’s (she really didn’t like him), to the group home (there were so many people there), to Sam’s (Aaron really had liked him, had thought he had finally found someone who he wouldn’t have to leave), back to the group home (still as full as before), and the list just grew longer every time he moved.
Sam’s had been the longest he had stayed at a home. Almost a full year. It had seemed like a dream come true until Sam had sat him down and let him know that yet another move had come up.
After that, Aaron hadn’t even tried to get close to the families; it hurt far less that way. The boy built up his walls, higher and higher until even he couldn’t see where they ended. He hoped they didn’t.
The only constant he had during this process was Simon Goodell. The man was kind, but busy, and while he dropped in when he could, it wasn’t enough to form a lasting connection. Yet Aaron still found himself looking forward to seeing the only person he really knew in his life, the only person he could really count on to be there and even that was flimsy at best.
The last time he was moved, Simon had done his best to explain the situation.
“Alright Aaron, you know the drill by this point. Your new foster family is an older man. He was actually in the FBI – that’ll be neat huh, kiddo? – and his son is grown up. You’ll actually be his first foster, so be good. Well, you’re always good, aren’t you, kiddo? Good thing, because it looks like we’re here already, come on out. I’m really excited for you to meet him. I think you two will really click.”
Aaron had stepped out of the car the same way he had at every other foster home. He stood the same way, had on the same emotionless expression, and didn’t really expect to stay at the small two-story house they had pulled up to for any longer than the other homes.
Still, Aaron couldn’t quite crush the small spark of hope that rose in his chest. Something about this place was different, he didn’t know how or why, just that it was. He hoped it wasn’t simply because Simon had said something.
With that thought spinning in his head, he and his social worker stepped up and knocked on the door.
An older man with heavy lines engraved into his face opened it and was quickly greeted and introduced by Simon.
“Aaron, this is Jason Gideon, your new foster parent.”