Archive of Our Own

Considering the warehouse was supposed to have been abandoned for the last six or so years, Donald had expected to find thick layers of dust and a fair amount of rats. Instead, a fully operational lab occupied the space, cluttered but noticeably dust-free. On one side, deafening power generators chugged behind three large glass tubes. On the other, a tiny kitchen sat shoved in the corner, complete with a mini fridge, and a collection of large desks, barely visible under the scattered blueprints and haphazard notes.

What kind of rich ass squatters-  

His hand hovered over the radio. He had promised to call in if he found anything strange, and this definitely fit those parameters, but.…

He moved towards the nearest desk, leaning closer to read the topmost layer. The handwriting was rough, smudged from the author's hand dragging across the ink. A familiar diagram in the upper left corner of the paper caught his eye: an old design of a bionic implant that Douglas had proposed shortly before his termination.

His hand jumped to the radio on his hip at the sneeze behind him.

A young boy stood in the middle of the warehouse, not much older than seven or eight, with dark hair and large, brown eyes. His clothes were dirty and unkempt, as if he’d worn the same outfit for several days without a chance for a shower. 

Donald blinked, stepping backward into the table. “Um.”

The boy looked around before looking back at Donald. He tilted his head. “Got juice?”

Donald stared for a moment, staring at the boy. He moved closer, toddling with a lopsidedness usually attributed only to much younger children. “Juice,” he repeated, now only a few feet from Donald.

He blinked again before he crouched down to the kid’s height. “Uh… hey, kid. You’re really not supposed to be in here.”

“Ay!” A shout came from around the corner. “We’re still playing! Just ‘cus you’re losing doesn’t mean you get to quit!” Despite the increased volume and use of proper vocabulary, this voice sounded much younger.

The boy glanced back, and then took another few steps toward Donald, holding his hand out. Donald hesitated before he finally took his hand off the radio. The kid didn’t seem particularly threatening, and he just slowly led Donald around the tables and behind the power generators. Two younger girls sat around a Monopoly board in a secluded corner. The taller of the two jumped up, shoving the other behind her. They wore similar clothes to the boy, though their hair was significantly longer and different shades. While his was black, the older girl’s was brown, and the younger girl’s was a dark blonde.

“Who are you?” the older girl asked, snatching the boy’s hand and pulling him to her.

“Um. I’m Donald?” he said, unsure of what exactly was going on. 

“Why did you bring him back here?” the girl in front snapped, squinting up at Donald’s face.

“Wanted juice, Dad gone,” he replied. “Did not get juice.” The two dissolved into bickering, smacking each other in the shoulder.

The youngest stepped forward, waving for Donald to get closer. Donald hesitated, before he knelt on the floor, leaning towards the child. “Are you Mr. Dad’s brother, Donald? Or just Donald?” she asked, voice soft and syllables precise.  

“Who is ‘Dad’?” Donald asked, slowly putting together a story that was hardly believable.

She wrinkled her nose, before carefully pronouncing, “Douglas.”

“Fucking-” Donald said, before snapping his mouth shut. “You didn’t hear that.” He stood up, grabbing the radio on his hip. “Davenport to security.” He waited a moment before repeating the call. The girl in front of him started pulling on his arm, trying to grab the radio. “No! No, you can’t-”

The other two stopped arguing, watching Donald grapple with the child.

“Security, is there a problem?” The radio crackled.

“I need a transport out here as fast as possible. Enough seats for four passengers. Building twelve.”

“Copy. Is there an emergency?”

“Not quite.”

He slipped the radio back in his pocket. “I gotta get you kids out of here,” he muttered, leaning closer to the youngest. Shiny, eerily familiar hazel eyes looked back.

Holy shit Douglas kidnapped children Mother Mary above what am I supposed to do-

“The implants…” Donald muttered before he ran back over to the desk. “Hey, you,” He pointed to the older girl. “Did your Dad put something in you? Something that makes you do things you shouldn’t be able to do?”

The two girls looked at each other, having a silent conversation. “Are you taking us away?” the taller one finally asked.

“You can’t stay here, kid. Children are supposed to… go outside and be at school, not in a warehouse.”

The smallest started forward. “Are you going to take us to school?” she asked, excitement gleaming in her eyes.

Donald paused, planning. Whatever it takes… “Yeah, kid, sure.”

She grinned, rushing forward, just as a security guard pushed open the front door. “Bee, come on!” The other two followed, watching Donald as he gathered stacks of papers from Douglas’ workstations, especially anything that seemed useful or had the word “bionic” on it.

Oh Douglas, what have you done?

~*~

Taking care of three children was difficult enough, but three bionic children? Donald already ached from watching after them, and could only sigh as he watched Bree whip around the corner, chasing after Adam. Chloe sat next to him on the bench, trying to figure out how soldering worked. Her tiny hands kept slipping on the instrument, and a mess of hot metal pooled onto the table.

“Try holding it a little tighter,” Donald said.

His attention was drawn away again as Adam shrieked. Bree had latched onto his arm. He shook his arm desperately, trying to swat her off as tears welled up in his eyes. 

“ Bree !”

She looked up, before pouting and dropping back to the floor. “Sorry.”

Donald sighed, turning back as Chloe managed to get the last wire attached. “This is hard ,” she whined, looking up at Donald for some sort of comfort.

He looked at her, feeling a pang of something familiar. He leaned towards her, taking the soldering iron from her hand and placing it in the stand. “You’ll get better,” he tried, but it came out sounding a little lackluster. She looked down at her hands, lip shaking. “I wasn’t great at this at first either.” He turned his hand over to show Chloe the shiny burn scar on his palm. “I did that when I was twelve. I was doing the same exercises you were, and I leaned the iron back against my palm and burned myself. Boy, my mom was so mad she didn’t let me touch any tech for a week.” He smiled, leaning forward to look at Chloe. She looked less like she was going to cry now, so he must have been going in the right direction.

Donald opened his mouth to tell another story when she asked, “Did Dad ever do anything like that?”

Donald leaned back, rubbing a hand on his face. He thought for a moment, debating on whether or not he wanted to continue this specific path of conversation. “Douglas was more accident-prone than anyone I’ve ever met- even Adam.”

“Really?” Chloe smiled, scooting back on the bench to get a better view of Donald. 

“Oh, definitely. He tripped over the air and his own feet more than actual objects. Even had to get stitches once because of it.”

“What happened that time?” Chloe swung her legs, leaning against the table.

Donald looked away, remembering the huge slice in Douglas’ arm from a stray screw, his little brother's cries and the blood dripping all over the garage. The easy smile on Donald’s face slipped. “Never mind.”

Chloe wrinkled her brows, pouting. “What do you mean-”

“Mister Father Davenport!” Adam yelled, dragging out the words. Donald took the chance, standing up. “The clock says it’s story time! Well, it says seven and dot and zero and zero but you said that means you have to read to us,” Adam said, and he pulled Donald by the arm towards the reading chair. Bree zipped over, flopping onto the floor next to Adam. 

“Well then, Adam, what am I reading?”

Adam stood back up, shoving Chloe towards Bree and out of the way of the bookshelf. Chloe huffed, sitting against the wall. The boy sorted through rows of books before pulling one out and running over to Donald.

“Atoms and Creation?” Donald asked, eyebrows raising. The edition had been written for kids, but Chloe was the one who usually requested it.

“It's got my name in it,” Adam stated before he dragged over a chair to sit in.

Donald shook his head, huffing a laugh as he began to read. Towards the end of the book, he could tell that Bree and Adam were getting tired. Chloe was already asleep, leaning against Adam’s chair.

“Capsules, you three. It's bedtime,” he said, moving to scoop up Chloe. He walked them to the capsules on the other side of the lab, tapping Chloe’s with his foot to open the door.

She blearily looked up at him, blinking slowly.

“Do you want to sleep standing up or sitting tonight?” he asked.

She wrinkled her nose before she slipped to stand on the floor of the capsule, pulling the door closed and pressing the button to give her the noise-canceling headphones and eye mask she slept with. Donald sighed, pressing his hand to the glass before moving on to Bree’s.

“Standing or sitting?”

“Can I sit tonight? I don’t wanna stand,” she said, dramatically pouting.

He laughed under his breath before he leaned forward to brush her hair back. “Just tonight. You’re going to have to stand eventually, you won’t be small forever.” 

“I know.”

He smiled and moved to Adam’s, before seeing that he was already passed out on the floor of his capsule, curled up in a blanket and a pillow snatched from the couch. Donald shook his head before he moved towards the desk, intent on finalizing the chip extractor. After nearly two years of having the children and not being able to safely remove the chips, he needed to figure it out before there were repercussions.

~*~

Chloe was the first to wake every morning, her capsule door hissing open promptly at six. Bree usually followed an hour later, and then Adam, who would be up anytime between eight and ten, depending on the day.

Donald enjoyed these mornings, the quiet noise of Bree and Chloe doing puzzles together while he worked, with an undercurrent of the soft buzz of machinery. He looked over his desk, watching Chloe building sections of the outer ring, Bree kicking her feet as she built off of the sections that Chloe had finished. He had broken apart many arguments between the two about the situation. Bree insisted that her way was faster, and with her bionics it probably was, but Chloe adamantly refused to build it from the inside out. Donald had suggested several alternative ideas, before banning their morning puzzle sessions altogether, leaving the two to read or color.

Bree had complained to Adam, who, of all people, had come up with the solution currently in action: Chloe could build the outside edges, and then Bree would build off of them until they connected at the end. Neither of the girls had argued about this method, and so the puzzle-building continued. 

Donald moved back to the chip extractor, turning it to the back paneling. He was fairly certain it was finished, but if anything was marginally wrong with it ended up grievously injuring one of his kids…. 

He messed around with the wiring, going through two more cups of coffee throughout the hour. He leaned back, finally satisfied, setting down the chip extractor. The early morning quiet was nice. Adam wasn’t screaming, Bree wasn’t kicking up dust and making Chloe sneeze, and none of them were arguing. 

He paused. 

It was decidedly too quiet, especially with three children under the age of ten. He stood up, moving where the girls had been doing their puzzles. The puzzle sat half-finished and abandoned, Chloe’s neat piles scattered. Donald felt his heart kick, turning around to the capsules. Adam shouldn’t have been up for at least another half hour, and yet his capsule was empty, his blanket gone.

“Adam?” He yelled through the lab, moving around the corner towards the rock wall. “Bree? Chloe?” The exit by the elevator was still locked, and the log said that it hadn’t been opened since he had left yesterday.

From the other side of the lab, near the elevator upstairs, he heard Adam’s quiet giggling. Donald turned around slowly, looking towards the noise.

“ Shh ! You’re going to get us caught , Adam!”  He heard Bree attempt to whisper, but being seven, she hadn’t quite mastered it yet.

He approached the three children, watching as they tried to sneak their way to the elevator that led to the main sector of the house. Bree was tugging Adam along, who was still bundled up in his blanket. Bree’s other hand held Chloe’s ankle, dragging her along the floor. She had her arms crossed and a fierce pout on her face before she saw Donald. She grinned, waving.

Donald decided it was best to stop this now before Chloe got yanked into a doorframe or Adam tripped over her.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

Bree stopped, and with a turn almost comical, dropped the other two and sped back to Donald.

“They tried to get me to go upstairs!” she cried, standing behind him.

“Ah yes, your brother, who is still half asleep and hasn’t planned out anything in his life beyond hot dogs or chicken nuggets for dinner, and your sister, who was being dragged by her ankle, were kidnapping you ,” he said, turning to face her.

“Mhm. Yep. That’s correct Mr. Davenport. They were gonna go upstairs and eat all the food in the house and watch cartoons on the big TV.”

“Nuh uh! Mr. Davenport, I was an- uh- umwil–” Adam tried.

“Unwilling?”

“Uhuh,” he nodded. “I was an un– unwilling person in the upstairs!” 

Donald sighed before he moved to sit down in the storytime chair.

“Well now what, Bree? You got us in trouble!” Chloe said, dragging her feet over to Donald.

“You aren’t in trouble. There’s a reason you aren’t allowed upstairs, and I know for a fact I’ve told you that before,” Donald said. “There are bad people out there, and if they find out that you exist, they could come and take you away. You three don’t have good enough control of your bionics to protect yourselves yet. Which relates to what we’re doing today, actually.” Donald stood up to get the chip extractor, holding it where the children could see it. “This should let me take your chips out so that I can keep them updated and build better hardware for them.”

“Is it gonna hurt?” Bree asked, leaning away from the device.

Donald squinted for a second. “It… shouldn’t?”

“Said with so much confidence,” Chloe whispered, elbowing Adam.

“Hush you,” he said and rolled his eyes. “Who wants to go first?” He asked.

Adam puffed his chest out, squaring his shoulders. “I will! Gotta protect the ladies.” He nudged the girls out of the way.

“That’s why you’ll be the first to die in a zombie movie,” Bree stated.

“ Bree.”

Bree sighed, flopping onto the couch in the corner. Chloe stayed near Donald, leaning over the cyberdesk to watch. Donald pressed the chip extractor to the back of Adam’s neck, pressing the button. After a jolt, he pulled it back. Adam turned around and looked up at Donald.

“Alright?” He asked.

“I guess so,” he said. “But my head feels funny.”

“Probably just side effects. Tell me if it gets worse.” Donald turned back to the desk and grabbed one of three labeled chip cases, carefully transferring Adam’s to his. He wiped off the extractor with an antiseptic cloth and moved on, repeating the process with Bree and Chloe. Donald put Adam’s chip in the machine he had built to run diagnostics, before putting Bree’s in. Adam’s had only taken a few minutes, but Bree’s seemed to be taking much longer. He then cycled Chloe’s, before turning to the kids.

He looked at the three, all lined up on the couch. Adam kept leaning into Bree, before jolting back to where he had been and Bree looked exhausted. But Chloe looked the worst of all three. She had her hands over her eyes and was leaning against Bree, making odd noises with her mouth.

Donald frowned and moved towards her, kneeling in front of her. “Chloe? Are you okay?” 

She hummed, opening her mouth. “I- Mr. Davenport. It’s bright and- m- my head hu-hurts,” She said, moving her hands. “I can’t see- see anything. Anything from my eye. It’s bright, all bright .” Her head tilted forward. She collapsed into Donald.

“Chloe? Chloe!” Donald shook her, but she didn’t respond, starting to twitch, hands pulling towards her face. “Oh, shit .”

Donald looked up at Adam and Bree, but the other two seemed fine for now. Donald pulled Chloe back, laying her on her side on the floor. He stood up, panicking. He moved back to the diagnostics machine, quickly pulling Chloe’s chip out, praying it would work. When he turned around, he found Chloe slowly pushing herself back up. He abandoned the chip extractor and her chip, rushing over to her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, holding her face and looking her over.

“It’s bright,” she said again, sounding slightly more clear.

“Does your head still hurt? Do you feel dizzy?” he clarified, pressing his fingers against her pulse.

“Hurts less. Happened?” she asked, leaning into his arm. 

“I… don’t know, kid. I’m going to put your chips back in, and see if that helps.”

She nodded tiredly, letting him pick her up and set her against Bree.

“Mr. Davenport?” Bree called out. He turned to look at her. “My legs hurt. And I’m tired. Can I go back to bed?” 

“Let me put your chip in. I was just telling Chloe that I’m hoping it fixes… whatever is wrong with you three. Adam? How do you feel?”

Adam looked up, eyes wandering around a bit as he faced Donald. “My everything hurts and I’m dizzy. I feel funny.”

Donald nodded, carefully putting the three’s chips back in. Over a few minutes, Adam stopped swaying, and Bree perked up a bit more, looking much less tired. He moved in front of Chloe. 

“I feel better now. Everything was really bright and loud, and my head hurt. Why was I on the floor?” she asked, scooting forward on the couch.

“You don’t remember? You passed out, I think. I don’t really know. I’ll figure it out. Why don’t you three rest for now? Next time, I’ll make sure to do this one at a time.”

Chloe nodded, leaning back. Adam flopped onto Bree, pulling his blanket up from the floor. Bree squawked, crushing Chloe. Donald shook his head, moving back to the desk. He moved his stool to a different side, making sure he could still keep an eye on them.

~*~

Donald was on his third cup of coffee, already regretting his existence, by the time the youngest woke up. That regret only compiled once the younger two were fully awake, bickering over yet another puzzle. He rubbed his eyes, trying to get the blur to go away so he could see the computer screen, to no avail. Maybe he should start drinking decaf.

“What are you doing?”

Donald jumped. He hadn’t noticed Chloe appear at his side. He’d never been a big fan of tea, but maybe that would help with his general awareness.

“Updates,” he said, trying to sound alive. “For Adam’s chip. To try and help with his mobility.”

She nodded, sitting eerily still.

“...Do you… need something?”

Chloe glanced back at her siblings, seemingly steeling herself. “I don’t want to be a sister anymore.”

Donald blinked. “I— What? Kid, we can’t just get rid of them.”

“No, I—” She paused. “Wait, was that an option?”

“No!”

She huffed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. Can I be a brother, then? Instead of a sister?”

Again, it took a second to sink in. “Um.” Donald stopped his coding, spinning his stool towards her.

She blinked owlishly, holding awkward eye contact.

“I don’t see why not?” he replied. “You… want to be a boy?” he reiterated, trying to understand the situation.

“Yes, please.”

Donald nodded slowly, before he spun back around to his computer, opening a new tab in a search engine. “Go finish your puzzle, kid.” 

~*~

It’s nearly three days after the recent development in Chloe’s feelings when Donald thinks about a name change. He’d been stewing over the websites and testimonies he’d read, staying up until he physically couldn’t. Bree and Adam are absorbed in Blue’s Clues , Adam jumping to answer every question. On the other end of the small couch, Chloe is reading a heavy book. 

“Hey, Chloe, come here,” he said, waving the kid over. She dog ears the page, against all moral code Donald has attempted to instill in her, and walks over. 

“Are we doing more soldering?” she asked, pouting. “I don’t like soldering.” 

“No- I…” He paused, pushing out a chair for her. “I wanted to know if you wanted to change your name.” 

“Oh,” she said, looking at the table. “I guess Chloe isn’t really a boy’s name, is it?”

“If you don’t want to change your name, you don’t have to. Chloe can be a boy's name if it's yours. I just figured I’d ask,” he responded.

She scrunched her nose. No- wait.

“Do you want to use different pronouns too?” Donald asked, recalling the information he’d read the other day. 

“Like what?” Chloe asked.

Donald hummed, spinning around in his chair. “Masculine pronouns? Like he and him. What Adam and I use.”

Chloe looked at Adam, watching him jump up and down in front of the TV. Chloe then swung around to look at Donald, large eyes inspecting Donald’s face. 

Chloe looked between the two several times, enough that it was becoming strange.

“Kid?”

“I’d like that, I think,” he said, blinking the same owlish blink.

Donald nodded, turning back to the table. “What about a name?”

“I hadn’t got that far,” he replied, “How did you pick last time?”

Donald waved him over. He opened another tab in the search bar. “Allow me to introduce you to baby names dot com.”

Chloe was not a fan of any names that ended in “y” or “n” which knocked a few off the list. He wrinkled his nose at Charlie, Casey, Chris, Carter, and Caleb.

“Does it have to be a ‘c’ name?” he asked Donald.

“You mean to tell me you want to break the cycle? You wound me, my child.”

Chloe huffed, looking back at the screen, and continued scrolling. 

“How about Cadwalader?” Donald suggested with a grin.

Chloe stopped scrolling, turning his head slowly to look at Donald. “Do you really want to introduce your children as Adam, Bree, and Cadwalader?” 

Donald laughed, shaking his head. The smile fell when he thought about it a bit further. Donald wouldn’t ever be able to introduce these children, his children, until the world was ready to accept them. 

Chloe groaned, thunking his head on the table. “I’m too indecisive for this.”

“What are you looking at?” Adam bounded up behind the two, crashing into Chloe’s back.

“Jeez, Adam, careful!” Donald scolded, grabbing his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Adam huffed, “What are you looking at?”

Bree finally notices the gathering and comes to stand in front of Donald’s stool.

“I’m picking a new name,” Chloe states.

“Oh. Why?” Bree asks, standing on her toes to look over the 

Chloe blinks, folding his arms on the table and resting his head on them. “Because I need a boy’s name.” 

After Adam and Bree’s moments of silence, he continues talking. 

“I’m a boy now.” Chloe sits back up, and wiggles until his stool faces his siblings. “Mr. Davenport said it was okay. Um- and that I get to pick a new name now because Chloe isn’t really a boy’s name.”

“Okay,” Bree said. She then turned to Mr. Davenport. “Can you make me another sister? I can not be the only girl in this house.”

Donald attempted to cover his laugh with a cough. “I think three kids is plenty, thank you.”

She huffed, leaving to sit on the couch. 

Chloe turned back to Adam.

“Adam?”

Adam had a faraway look on his face, staring at the wall. He looked at Chloe.

“I thought you were a boy?” The other two stare at him. Adam looked back at the wall. “You should change your name to Charles.”

“I am not living with your middle name as my first name.” 

“Lame.”

Adam pushes Chloe out of his chair, scrolling through the list of names. Adam spins around on the stool, pointing to a name on the list.

“What about Chase?”

~*~

“ What were you thinking?!” Chase stared at the floor, bottom lip wobbling. Adam was sitting on the couch behind him, holding a red-soaked tissue to his nose. Bree, sitting next to Adam, cradled her wrist. 

“You are the leader ! It is your job to make sure that your siblings don’t get hurt!” Mr. Davenport was digging through the drawers for a brace for Bree’s arm, slamming them shut before opening another in his hunt. He curled his fingers into his arm, digging his nails in.

“It is your fault that Bree has a sprained wrist.” Slam . “It is your fault that Adam had a bloody nose.” SLAM. “If you had been paying attention, this wouldn’t have happened! I don’t know how you can be so stupid sometimes, you’re not Adam! Did you lose your chip or something, goofing off instead of training?”

“I know it’s my fault. I- I’m sorry.”

“You should be.” The bitterness in Mr. Davenport’s voice settled in Chase’s chest, twisting into a feeling much worse. Disappointment. Chase turned to look at Adam, oddly quiet as he leaned forward to get a new tissue. “Whatever. I’m not the one you need to be apologizing to.”

Chase sniffed.

Mr. Davenport turned around, holding the arm brace he had been searching for. After carefully helping Bree put it on, he turned around to look at Chase. There was some look in his eyes that Chase hadn’t seen before, and couldn’t quite place. It made him feel much smaller than he was.

Chase looked away.

Mr. Davenport sighed, before moving to kneel in front of Adam. He turned his head from side to side, before pulling back. “It’s not broken, at least. Pinch your nose and keep leaning forward. It’ll stop bleeding soon.”

He turned back to Chase, looking him over for a quick moment, before he went to the elevator, jamming the button. 

Chase rubbed at his eyes, feeling his heart start to pound. He turned around to face his siblings, “I’m sorry.” With every word he spoke, his chest got tighter and tighter. “I- I should have paid more att- attention and focused more and it’s– it’s all my fault and I know you don’t want to be friends anymore and that’s okay but I still want to be your brother because I love you-” He stopped talking when Adam stood up. He averted his eyes, looking at his feet. The shorter boy closed his eyes as the other got closer, not wanting to look at him.

Adam pulled him into a crushing hug, tight enough that Chase struggled to breathe. “Wasn’t your fault. I think. Mr. Davenport is just being a loser.” 

When Chase looked back up, Bree was staring at him. She huffed, rolling her eyes. “You didn’t do anything, dummy. I’m not hugging you though.”

Chase smiled awkwardly, wiggling out of Adam’s hold to chase Bree around the room.

Mr. Davenport came down a few hours later, seemingly calmer, except for the fact that he wouldn’t so much as look at Chase. He made sure they brushed their teeth, and then sent them to bed, no book for Adam or Bree, no careful hug for a still-clingy Chase. 

Chase stood in his capsule, absent-mindedly scratching at his arm out of pure nerves as he watched Mr. Davenport work for nearly half an hour before he pushed it open. He glanced towards the hissing noise before going back to his work at the desk with no acknowledgment.

“Mr. Davenport?” Chase asked, shuffling towards the desk. He had expected at the least a question as to why he was still up, and at most a scolding for being awake so late. When he got no answer, he continued. “I really am sorry. I’m sorry that I hadn’t really looked over the training file all that well. I should’ve been better. I will be better, next time. I swear.”

More silence, only broken by the keyboard clacking. Chase sniffed, feeling his eyes water again. As Chase stood, watching, Mr. Davenport’s clicks seemed to get sharper and sharper. 

“I’m going to sleep now. I love you.” He stopped, waiting for Mr. Davenport’s usual reply. After a moment of him not answering, he tried again. “I love you,” he repeated, louder.

Mr. Davenport just sighed. “Go to bed, Chase.”

Chase blinked, the heavy feeling from earlier back. He watched Mr. Davenport for a few more moments with scrunched eyebrows and a shaky bottom lip. Mr. Davenport aggressively closed his laptop, staying silent and unmoving, letting out a heavy breath. Chase turned away, stepping into his capsule.

~*~

“Line up, subjects of Davenportia! ‘Tis time for your measuring!” Mr. Davenport shouted through the lab, waiting for the children to gather. Bree, as always, was the first to arrive, using her speed to beat the other two. Not that beating Adam in a race was hard, considering he was built like a cargo container. Chase sniffed, climbing down from his chair and standing behind Bree. The two stared at each other for a long while, before Mr. Davenport sighed.

“Bree, can you go find Adam? He’s probably lost again.”

“Lost in what, a paper bag?” Chase muttered, huffing. Bree sped off, returning with a disgruntled Adam, still clinging to his board book. “Really, Adam? You’re putting us behind schedule for what, Chika Chika Boom Boom ?”

“Boys,” Mr. Davenport said sternly. Chase and Adam huffed.

Bree wiggled in excitement, standing with her back to the wall by the elevator.

“Well, look at that Bree! A whole inch taller! You are now four feet and one inch tall.” 

Bree stuck her bottom lip out, pouting. “Only? Why did you make me short?” Chase snickered, elbowing Adam in the ribs. She turned, hands on her hips. “If you think you’ve grown so much, why don’t you go next?” She folded her arms, looking proud.

Chase stood at the wall like they did every six months, tilting his chin up.

“He’s cheating!” Adam cried. “He turned his head up!”

“That’s how you’re supposed to do it!” Chase said, sticking his tongue out at him.

“ Boys. ” Mr. Davenport said again. Chase pouted.

He felt Mr. Davenport draw a line at the top of his head and moved away. “Oh. I got way taller.”

“Jeez, kid. What have I been feeding you down here? You’re up two and a half inches. That makes four feet, five inches.”

“Yes! Take that, Bree!” He poked her in the side, dodging her counterattack.

Mr. Davenport was still staring at the large gap between Chase’s green lines from today’s measuring and last July’s measuring, before he blinked and turned to Adam.

“You’re up, squirt.”

“I’m gonna be seven feet tall, one day.” He declared, wiggling against the wall. Bree scoffed.

“I don’t know about that, kid. You’re up about an inch. Four feet, seven inches. Chase is catching up to you.”

Adam looked at Chase with an oddly pensive look.

“What?” Chase asked.

“Is this because I don’t eat my peas?”

Mr. Davenport opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “Absolutely. Peas are known to make you reach seven feet tall by age twelve. Milk is good for you too, makes you grow even taller.”

Chase grinned, watching as Adam ran off to find some peas and milk. 

~*~

Donald jumped when the lab elevator doors opened, Bree peeking around the corner into the kitchen.

“Breanna!” 

“I know! I know I’m not allowed up here but we were playing and now something is wrong with Chase and he’s panicking and he’s not breathing right and I don’t know what to do-” She was talking so fast that he could barely understand her, and she was starting to glitch. 

“Bree! Bree, it’s fine. Let’s go.” They stood in the elevator, Bree’s arms pinging against the wall. 

The elevator slid open to a mess, machines scattered in pieces and the control wall screen cracked with a heavy wrench lodged in the center of it.

Adam was hiding behind the half-open steel blast doors, watching the carnage beyond. 

“What did you two do?” he exclaimed, rushing to the other computer, overriding the door lock. As the doors slid open, a heavy metal machine flew past them, banging into the wall.

“Nothing! I told you! We were playing and Chase tripped into the water tank and got soaked and started crying and now he won’t stop !” Bree cried, ducking as another object sailed over them. 

Donald dragged a hand down his face, leaning around the edge of the doors. “Go stand in the elevator,” he said, looking for Chase in the large lab. He flicked the lights on, stepping into the room.

Bree grabbed Adam’s hand and dragged him to the elevator, hiding around the corner.

“Chase?” Donald called out, watching as the objects slamming around the room crashed through glass partitions and into screens, occasionally hovering or dropping to the floor altogether. He noticed most of the swirling was centered around the cyberdesk, and he could see the small footsteps leading there from the broken water tank.

“Chase?” Donald avoided another flying wrench, barely clipping him in the shoulder. He ducked around the corner, seeing Chase rocking and eyes closed tight, hands over his ears. “What’s wrong, kid?” he asked, setting a hand on his arm. 

Chase jerked away, moving to sit on the other side of the desk. Donald leaned around, looking at the boy. His clothes were slightly wet, most likely from the water, and there was a bit of blood on his face dripping from his nose. 

“Kid, I need you to use your words.”

Chase shook his head rapidly, sobbing harder as Donald spoke. “I- I can- no no no .” Chase hunched forward, pressing his forehead to the floor.

Donald sat back on his knees, bewildered and slightly frustrated. “Chase. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” 

Chase doesn’t reply, gasping for air and leaning further forward. The things in the room are flying around faster now, and Donald can’t quite figure out why. He’s hoping it’s one of Chase’s other abilities, one that they haven’t worked out yet.

The only things left standing in the rooms are the capsules, having been constructed to withstand an explosive magnitude he was sure even his brother couldn’t muster. Over approximately three seconds, Donald made a decision. He stood up, bending low enough he wouldn’t be decapitated by flying debris, and scooped Chase up. Chase immediately started wailing, banging his small fists against Donald’s arms and chest and they moved towards the capsules. He nudged Chase’s open, setting him inside, before closing it. 

Once Chase was insulated behind the capsule walls, the debris stopped flying as fast, and Donald could hear several thousand dollars crashing to the ground.

“When you’ve calmed down and are ready to talk, press the upstairs button,” Donald told Chase, watching as the boy curled up tighter on the floor of his capsule. He sighed, before turning around and going upstairs. 

“Did you fix Chase?” Adam asked, holding onto Donald’s sleeve. 

Donald dragged his eyes away from the screen, some indiscernible children’s show playing on the upstairs TV.

“He’s… having some issues right now,” Donald decided, pulling Adam into his side. “He’s a big kid, I’m sure he’ll figure it out.” 

Bree, on the other side, was antsy, presumably from being upstairs. 

She carefully drank from her cup, before she set it down on the table and stood in front of the boys, hands on her hips.

“You shouldn’t have left him alone,” she proclaimed boldly. 

“Bree, honey, I didn’t have a choice. I can’t help him if he won’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“I told you what’s wrong, his clothes are wet, and he tripped! You didn’t want to listen to me!” She dramatically pointed at him, before flopping into the couch. Donald sighed, looking into the soulless eyes of the cartoons on the screen.

“Once he’s calmed down, I’ll go help him get changed and see if he’s got any scrapes,” he relented, hoping she would give it up. She was pushing this subject quite far, for not understanding what was even going on.

She rolled over, looking at him. “Do you pinky promise?”

Before he could respond, a ringing chime sounded. “Well, look at that. I’ll go see what’s going on now. Come along, offspring.” Donald laughed internally, hustling the two into the elevator, before he remembered the carnage that would be waiting.

As the blast doors slid open, he fully took in the mess. Chase was holding his arms to his chest, standing by the rock wall. His face was a little pale, and the blood from before had smudged a bit from his tears.

“Feeling better, kid?” Donald asked, crouching down to get a better look at his face. The blood had been coming from his nose, which was a bit swollen but not broken. He shrugged, dropping his arms to his sides, letting Donald catch a glimpse of what looked to be a bad case of carpet burn, “What happened to your arm?” Chase shrugged again.

Donald sighed, annoyed. He stood up, pulling him over to the first-aid drawer. He carefully picked Chase up and set him on the cyberdesk, wiping away the blood and wrapping the rough patch on his arm, 

Adam and Bree had moved to stand behind Donald, watching as he worked. Bree was the first to speak up. “Are you okay?”

Chase sniffed, then nodded. 

“All right, come along, children. Clean up time,” Donald said, turning away from Chase and towards the other two.

Adam groaned, dragging his feet to grab a bucket.

“I’m sorry,” Chase sniffed again, carefully sliding down from the cyberdesk. 

Donald sighed. “It happens. Let’s try not to let it happen again.”

Chase nodded, swerving out of Bree’s attempt to mess with his hair.

~*~

“Gather round, my children!” Davenport called, a smile wide on his face. Adam dropped his tablet, rushing to shove Chase out of the way as he scrambled over the back of the couch.  

“Hey!” Chase shouted, going unignored as Bree whipped past him, kicking up dust. The three lined up in front of Mr. Davenport, Adam elbowing Chase and Bree elbowing Adam.

“I have grand news to share with you all!” Davenport proclaimed. “My dashing looks have gone overlooked no longer!”

The three blinked at him, turning to look at each other before looking back towards him. “What?” Bree asked.

“I have found myself a wife! Well, and another son, but that’s neither here nor there.” He pulled out his phone, showing a photo of a woman in her mid-thirties with dark, warm skin and black straightened hair. She had her arm around a boy around Chase’s age with a similar face and skin tone to his presumed mother, his hair closely cropped and tightly coiled. “Tasha and Leo!”

Chase blinked. “We’re getting a mom?” He turned to Bree, then to Adam, grinning wide. “We get a mom!” 

Bree grinned, speeding around the room and cheering. “I get to be a flower girl! Oh, I’m going to have such a pretty dress!” Adam, on the other hand, didn’t seem excited at all. 

Chase looked at Davenport. He looked a little upset, not speaking. “What’s wrong, Adam? Don’t you want a mom?” Chase asked, Bree grabbing Adam’s arm to slide to a stop.

“We can’t meet her, you know. We can’t even leave the basement. She doesn't get to know about us.”

Bree’s grin fell.

“Mr. Davenport?” She turned to look at him.

He sighed. “Bree…”

She scoffed.

“So you’re getting rid of us?” Chase asked, feeling a tightness in his chest. 

“Just because I’m getting married doesn’t mean I’m getting rid of you.”

“But you’re replacing us,” Bree said, sitting in a chair at the cyberdesk.

“A new kid doesn’t mean replacing you. It just means that I have-” he paused, looking at the three scattered around the room, “...more in my life than just you three.” 

Chase huffed, shoving Bree over in the stool to sit with her.

“It’s okay Mr. Davenport. I don’t mind getting replaced,” Adam said, patting his shoulder. They were almost the same height, which Chase would have laughed about in any other situation.

“Maybe one day I’ll be able to introduce you all to the world, and you’ll get to meet them then.”

Bree shoved Chase out of the chair, turning away. Adam went back to his tablet. Chase sighed.

“Yeah. Maybe.”