The caravan rolled up onto the town in the dead of night… Of course, being the dead of night, they were not permitted into the town. Not that there was room for them, anyway. The little city inside the stone walls was tightly packed in as it was. And so, under the suspicious eyes of the guards on the wall, the Romani drew their wagons into a circle and settled in to rest before the sun rose.

And rise it did. The morning shift of guards watched as the gypsy clan emerged in their brightly colored clothes, and began to make camp. The young children headed for the river with buckets, the older children for the forest with hatchets to get firewood. A pit was dug up in the middle of camp and lined with stones, a large frame constructed over it and a rather generously sized kettle was hung from this. Firewood was dumped into the pit, the buckets of water went into the kettle, and the fire was started. Now that the center of camp was done, the gypsies moved to work on their own personal camps by their wagons.

As they did, a handful of them prepared to head into town. They had to find work, and earn money to replenish their supplies… and of course, there was a festival coming up soon… They always followed the festivals as they traveled, for that was where they made their money. They had a southern camp in the winter, where they stayed until the spring thaw. Then they moved out and headed northeast, visiting towns for their spring festivals. Then in the summer they headed west for summer festivals. And then, as autumn approached, they headed southeast, to attend to the Harvest festivals on their way back to their winter grounds. This town was one of their last stops… the harvest was in, it had been bountiful, and the gypsies would be able to barter for a good supply to last them through the winter.

The Rom Baro, the tribal leader, led the way into the town on a spirited golden dappled red bay Gypsy Vanner stallion, his mane, tail and feathering thick and wavy… the tail itself was so long that it nearly dragged on the ground. Just as he did everywhere he went with the horse, the Rom Baro heard women express envy for the horse's glossy black hair. The magnificent horse drew the gaze of most everyone… and then their eyes moved to the rider.

The horse and rider pair garnered many stares from the locals… curiosity, suspicion, admiration… He was a handsome man who carried himself with authority, tall and strong, with deep brown hair, graying at the temples, that he kept tied back to fall down to his mid back. He had a dark moustache and goatee and sharp eyes. He had a scarf across his brow, a deep green in color, wore a simple white linen shirt that was only loosely tied closed; it hung open halfway down his chest, showing off his defined pectorals that were partially obscured by dark hair and the several chains, beads and medallions that hung from his thick neck. He wore a deep green sash trimmed in gold around his waist, and dark brown trousers that disappeared where he tucked them into his worn boots just below his knee. A long, brown coat hugged his shoulders and fell to his upper calves.

Five others followed him, making their way through the town and heading to the manor of the Lord, all mounted on their impressive Gypsy Vanner steeds of varied color. Upon arrival, they were directed towards the town square, where the Lord of the lands was overseeing the preparations for the festival. The town square was a hive of activity, which the gypsies found comforting and familiar; the activity, the excitement, it was all so much like their own lives, every time they arrived at a new town and set up camp.

"There." The Rom Baro declared, and guided his mount over towards a man astride his own sorrel mare, overlooking the activity. He was draped in a rich cloak, his long black hair cascading down his back in thick waves. When the gypsies approached, he turned his head and narrowed his eyes. He was not fond of gypsies for the most part. Everyone knew that. But he allowed their presence, for they stimulated the economy, and raise the spirits of his people… And he and the Rom Baro of this particular troupe had, interestingly enough, managed to forge something almost like friendship, as it was this troupe that had been visiting the town every year for far longer than any other. He tolerated things from this troupe that he would from no other, and even extended them some levels of hospitality that he would never consider for others.

With a sigh the man dismounted, and so did the gypsies. The Rom Baro approached, and offered his hand.

"Lord Nikolas." The gypsy greeted.

"Jean Luc." The Lord nodded back.

"T'ings be lookin' well." Jean Luc observed, casting his eyes around the square.

"It was a good harvest." Nikolas confirmed. "Good weather. Good trade."

"Magnifique…" Jean Luc nodded. A prosperous year for the town meant the people would be more willing to spend their money and barter for the more luxury goods that the Romani had brought from their path east. "Shall I have some o' my people assist in settin' up fo' de festival?"

"The help would be appreciated." Nikolas nodded, and Jean Luc waved a hand to the men with him. Two remounted their hoses and headed out. "De rest o' you," Jean Luc commanded, "see 'bout arranging some trade bargains. You know what we be short on." And the others also left, leaving Jean Luc with the Lord Nikolas. For the next couple of hours, the pair wandered the town, Nikolas pointing things out here and there, and discussing business. What did the gypsies need, and what luxury goods did they have to trade in return? Nikolas quite liked the exotic fabrics that they often had… in fact, Jean Luc always made sure to keep some for Nikolas in the emerald greens and sapphire blues that the lord enjoyed.

At one point, the two men stumbled to a halt as children scampered across their paths, nearly tripping them up. Snarling, Nikolas' fists shot out and snagged two of the boys by their arms, and glared down.

"What do you think you're doing?!" He growled. The two boys, with long wavy black hair, looked up and gave him sheepish looks.

"Th'orry dad!" the young boy chirped, grinning. Jean Luc felt a smile tug at his lips as he observed the boy with his missing front teeth. Nikolas eyed the child, and then looked at the older one.

"You know better, Adrian." He scolded.

"Sorry, dad." The other boy murmured, his tone soft.

"Away with you… watch Michael." Nikolas instructed and released his two sons, watching them streak away with a sigh. Jean Luc chuckled.

"How old are dey now?"

"Michael is six. Adrian is nine." Nikolas answered.

"Good lookin' boys."

"They'll send me to my grave…" Nikolas grumbled, and Jean Luc chuckled. Nikolas coddled the boys, especially the younger one, who had barely survived his own birth; his mother had not…

"Makes me miss de days when my Henri was dat young…" Jean Luc sighed, smiling. "Dey grow so fast, Lord Nikolas… know dey try yo' patience… but treasure it…"

Nikolas nodded silently, a small, sad smile gracing his handsome features. They had returned to the square by then, and watched the children playing.

Then, one broke out of the crowd and stumbled, crashing into Jean Luc.

"Oof! Sorry!" The child called as he ran off. But in the blink of an eye, Jean Luc whirled, his hand darting out, much as Nikolas had done earlier, and his fingers closed. There was a yelp of shock and pain, and the boy stumbled as he was jerked back by the firm hand fisted in his hair. He twisted and fought, but let out a cry as he was roughly shaken, and Jean Luc commanded, "Give it back, boy."

With a cry, the child hurled the stolen purse away and into the crowd, and then tried to run, only be jerked back by the hand in his hair again. He heard a low chuckle. "You be a clever one, non?" Came the voice, now sounding amused. "T'row it away in hopes dat I let yo' go an' go after it? Ain't gonna work, boy…" The child let out a choked sob as he was forced to turn around, and then he was staring up at the two men…

Nikolas and Jean Luc stared down at the small child; Jean Luc's eyes widened, even as Nikolas' narrowed. The boy, a filthy little urchin in tattered clothes that he was obviously outgrowing, stared back, fear in his vivid eyes, which were unlike anything either man had ever seen before… there were no whites in his eyes… instead, they were an inky black, and set in the darkness were bright, glowing irises of the purest ruby red…

"You…" The Lord growled.

"You know dis boy?" Jean Luc asked.

"Never met him. But I've heard of him…" Nikolas spat, turning and waving his guards over. "Filthy little street thief has been evading my guards for years…"

The guards were there then, and rough hands seized the child's arms in bruising grips. The boy struggled, his terrified gasps tugging at the heartstrings of the Rom Baro.

"Excellent work, m'lord…" One of the guardsmen chuckled, nodding to Jean Luc who slowly uncurled his fingers and let go of the child's hair. "You must have some good reflexes to have caught this lil' shit…"

The other guard had a dark grin on his face as he wrapped an arm around the child's waist and heaved him up off of the ground, saying "Looks like this festival will get to kick off with a hanging tomorrow morning!" The child writhed in his grasp, desperately fighting to get away, tears running down his face as more guards joined the little spectacle, laughing and cheering the apprehension of the child.

Jean Luc felt a feeling of foreboding fall upon him… he slowly took in the faces of the guards… and the way they were staring at the little thief… or to be more accurate, the way they were eying the boy's body… Jean Luc felt his gut twist when he watched the guard holding the child in one arm, move to grab his leg with the other hand, his fingers gripping the child's inner thigh in a disturbing manner… and he was forced to realized what would befall the child that night, before his execution…

"Non." He declared firmly, and everyone turned to stare at him. Nikolas looked slightly surprised. "You can't mean t' kill a child."

"He's a thief." Nikolas pointed out.

"Oui… But t'ieves can be reformed. 'Specially when dey be dis young… Let me take de boy." Now everyone was looking surprised, the child included. "See if dere be somet'in' wort' salvagin'."

"… fine." Nikloas snorted, waving a hand as he walked away. "As long as I never see him in my city again, I don't give a damn what happens to him. Drown the pup in the river for all I care."

"If he can't be fixed, den I will…" Jean Luc said in a cold tone, and slowly, the guard holding the child set him down, not letting go completely until Jean Luc had the boy's arm firmly in his grasp.

"Got a name, boy?" Jean Luc asked. The child said nothing. The guard who had been holding him backhanded the child immediately, and only Jean Luc's hand on his arm kept him from falling to the muddy ground.

"You answer him, boy!" The man snarled. "Maybe the finer details escaped your stupid brain, but he owns you!"

"Enough!" Jean Luc barked, glaring at the guard. "I'll handle dis pup…" And he turned and stalked away, dragging the child after him.

"Here." He turned and smirked, accepting his purse from one of his men, who had fetched it from the crowd when the boy had thrown it. The man was now looking over the boy. "Takin' in a stray, boss? Can we really afford anot'er mout' t' feed?"

"My soul couldn't have afforded not to." Jean Luc admitted. "Could see what dey was gonna do to de child… Couldn't let dat happen, me…" And he reached his horse, slipping his hands under the child's arms and lifting him up onto the stallion, before moving up to sit astride his mount. Then, clutching the child to his chest, he guided his horse out of the square, and headed to the gates of the town, glancing down at the boy sat before him. The child was very small and skinny… it was hard to see much of him under the filth that coated his skin and matted his hair. Jean Luc turned his head away in disgust when he got a whiff of the boy. But he could only hold him closer when he felt the trembling of the terrified child…

When they reached the gypsy camp, the boy's trembling only amplified, as all the Romani stopped and stared at they passed, wondering what on earth their Rom Baro was doing with the filthy child… He drew his horse to a halt near several women. The little boy's eyes widened when the strangest woman he had ever seen stood, her dark eyes fixed on him. Her hair was in thick ropes and were gathered on top of her head and held there wrapped up in a scarf, though a few hung down her face and onto her ample bosom, decorated with little beads. She was short and plump, but the child had never seen a woman like her… her skin was dark… He had seen some strange people with tan skin, but such a dark brown was unnerving. He never knew people like her existed.

"Jean Luc…" The woman said, putting her hands on her hips. "What on God's good eart' d'you have dere?" The man sighed and dismounted, then reached up and plucked the child off of the saddle and set him down. The child stood there, trembling in fear as he was stared at.

"De boy had de balls t' pick my pocket." Jean Luc drawled, and the woman let a broad grin cross her face.

"Didn't get away wit' it I see."

"Non." Jean Luc chuckled. "Seems he live on de streets."

"… What was dey gonna do t' dis child?" The woman asked, then narrowing her eyes.

"De gallows." Jean Luc said darkly, and the women around him looked equally displeased. "At firs' light. Afte' de city guards take deir pound o' flesh from his po' hide…" And he squeezed Remy's shoulders. "De way dey looked at him…"

"Mon Dieu…" The woman gasped. "He a child!"

"Didn't seem t' matter t' de connards…"

"Whatcha need from me?" The woman asked.

"Get de boy cleaned up. Not in de river… he be too thin, an' it be too cold… know it's hard to get a hot bath ready, but…" Jean Luc glanced at her, and she nodded her understanding. "Den bring 'im t' me… Gon' clear out Henri's bunk. Got 'is own wagon now… bout time he get 'is crap outta mine…"

"Hah! As y' say…" The woman nodded, then slowly offered a hand. "Come along now, petit. Tante Mattie take care o' you… Gitcha all washed up an' clean, oui?" The boy leaned away, back into Jean Luc. Mattie's face filled with sadness, and Jean Luc moved to kneel before the boy, staring up into his eyes.

"She ain't gonna hurt you, mon fils…" The man said softly, and several woman looked startled at what he had called the boy. "Just get y' a bath. Den we find some decent clothes fo' y' t' wear, get some food in your belly and get y' some rest… dat's all…" The child eyed him, obviously not trusting him in the slightest.

"Come on, now…" Mattie said, and grasped the boy's hand, tugging him away. Jean Luc gave him an encouraging smile and nod, and the boy chewed his lip as he was dragged away. Mattie tugged him into her wagon and sat him on a stool by the door as gathered some things into a sack and took his hand again, guiding him outside once more. She led him to the edge of camp, right at the edge of the forest. A large wooden tub had been set up, with several fires and kettles around it. The women who had been sitting with Mattie were there, heating water over the fires and dumping them into the wooden tub.

The boy looked beyond apprehensive. Mattie smiled at him, smoothing his hair out of his face and then froze. Her eyes widened as she stared into the boy's eyes. He immediately winced and tried to turn away.

"Non… Look at me, mon petit homme…" She commanded gently, and he did so. Slowly, a knowing smirk came to her lips. "Well now… Whaddya know?" And then she simply pat him on the head and turned her attention to his clothes with a look of disgust. "Absolutely criminal…" She huffed, trying to unlace his shirt; she ended up pulling a small knife and slicing through the ties. "Dese ain't fit fo' a dog t' sleep on, much less fo' a child t' live in…"

The boy drooped, ashamed.

"Shhh… ain't y' fault, child…" She said, finally pushing the worn and filthy folds off of thin shoulders, and bit back a cry of dismay at the emaciated body she found beneath, riddled with bruises. Pangs of sadness struck her heart as she unlaced his tattered trousers and pulled them away, bringing a fearful flinch from the boy as he moved his shaking hands to hide his genitals. The utter fear seemed to roll off of him in waves, and Mattie sighed and moved in, wrapping her arms around the child and hugging him close, stroking his dirty hair and humming as he began to cry.

"Shhhh… S'alright, child… everyt'ing gonna be fine…" And she lifted him into her arms and moved over to the tub, setting him into it. He gasped in surprise at the warm water, staring up at her with wide eyes and his mouth slightly agape. "Gonna get yo' clean, d'accord?" Mattie said with a warm smile, and dug in her sack for a soap and a scrub brush, even as the women continued to fill the tub a bit more.

The little boy held still, nervously watching their every move. Smiling, Mattie took a bucket from one of the women and upended it over the child's head, soaking his hair before she began to work the soap into a lather and scrub it into the boy's hair. He let out a little yip of shock and tried to pull away.

"Hold still now, child. An' close yo' eyes so de soap don't hurt. Dis be over quick, oui?" And the child quieted down and held still, only trembling slightly as she worked the lather in his hair, sudsing up every strand. Then she guided the boy to tilt his head back into the water to rinse it all away, and then she washed his hair a second time. After that, she grabbed the scrub brush and began to work on his thin body, scrubbing him clean. The boy, slightly in shock as he had the first proper bath of his young life, just allowed her to do what she did. Though he did tense and whimper in fear when she bathed his private areas. The water was cooling by the time she finally stopped, lifting him out of the tub and wrapping a large, thick cloth around his wet body, rubbing him dry. Then, with a smile and a hand stroking over his hair, she lifted him into her arms and carried him away from the treeline and back into camp.

Eyes followed them, taking in the child that was huddled down in the blanket in her arms, trying to hide from the world, it seemed. The door to Jean Luc's wagon opened, and a young man stepped out, his arms full of random odds and ends.

"See how it is, me!" He was calling back into the wagon. "Jus' toss me out!"

"Y' done had y' own wagon fo' two season, Henri! Get y' shit an' get out!" Jean Luc shouted back, and the young man laughed and walked away, smiling and nodding at Mattie, and trying to catch a curious glimpse at the child in her arms. He had left the door to the wagon open, and so she stepped right in. Jean Luc was at his desk, and looked up at her.

"Well?"

"Dis boy gon' need a lotta care," She said softly, setting the child down on the edge of the bunk built into the wall. "He be starved, hurt an' scared, Jean Luc." She told her Rom Baro quietly as she headed for the door. "Be careful wit' him… still ain't said a word…" And she left, closing the door behind her.

The child sat frozen in dread when he was left alone with the man. He was hardly educated. He knew very little about anything but that which related to his own day to day survival… but he knew what some men liked to do to young boys… he had seen it happen to other kids on the street… He had only been six the first time he had innocently walked into an alley, to come across a terrifying sight.

The boy he saw that day, Theodore, had been eleven, nearly twelve. Some men who liked to frequent the tavern had pinned him against the wall, and he was crying, begging them to stop. He had watched as one of the men had pulled Theodore's pants down and forced his legs apart before putting his… THING, inside of Theodore. The boy with the strange eyes could only stand and stare in confused horror as the eleven year old screamed and thrashed. But the men only laughed at him as the one kept… kept taking it out and putting it back in, over and over and over… he would never forget Theodore's screams, would never forget the blood… He had finally run, too frightened to watch anymore…

There was a small lean-to under the bridge by the edge of town, where many of the homeless children would gather. He himself didn't go often, as even with the other street kids, he was an outcast… But he went that night… The kids were all crowded around the fire that had been made. Theodore was there… he looked haunted… broken… he stared into the fire as he lay there, letting a couple of the older boys take care of him. And the red eyed child had approached the group, something he rarely did. He had asked why those men had hurt Theodore like they had…

The older boys laughed at him… at his ignorance… The orphan with the red eyes had his first and only sexual education by a pair of teenage boys, who had no love for him, and in fact, took pleasure in frightening him… They told him how some men liked to do that to boys… and since they had no families, no status, very few cared if they did it to them. And no one would care if it was done to the red eyed child… They cruelly told the child that when he was old enough, men would want him for that, and that would be the only thing he could do for the rest of his life… lie back, spread his legs, and take it… it was inevitable, they told him… it was the only thing anyone would ever want him for… And crying, the little boy ran from the camp… and he had believed them. And so he had taken so much care to avoid men… to never be trapped or cornered… to never let his guard down. So fearful was he, that he had become the wild little thief that no man had been able to catch… until the Rom Baro…

Now, the little boy sat on the bed of the strange Romani, with only a blanket to cover his body, and he felt the tears running down his face as he realized that his time had come… what he seen done to Theodore, would now be done to him…

He jerked when the man moved. "Shhhh…" Jean Luc said, kneeling before the child and wiping away his tears. "Don't cry, petit… S'all gonna be alrigh'…" He watched in dismay as the child's trembling became full quaking as he leaned away and clutched the blanket tighter around himself, fighting back sobs. Jean Luc was distressed by just how frightened the boy was.

"Shhh shhh shhh… Look at me, mon fils…." He said, placing a hand on the boy's face and turning it to make the boy do just that. The child stared into the man's eyes and whimpered, a fresh wave of tears flooding down his face when the man began to push the blanket off and away from his body. And then he was naked and exposed, and wanting to throw up. Jean Luc wiped the tears away and then turned, grasping a clean tunic of his own that he had set out and draping it around the boy's shoulders. The boy looked confused now, as the man guided his thin arms into the sleeves, and then tied the strings down the front of the tunic. And with a small chuckle, he rolled up the sleeves as best he could.

"Dere now… We get y' some clothes later, oui? Know we got some that'll fit y' round camp somewhere…" And then he asked, "what be your name, fils?" The boy didn't answer. Jean Luc sighed, then turned and grabbed a bowl off of his desk, that had a cloth draped over it. He was then kneeling before the child again, and the boy's eyes widened as he stared at the bowl of soup, steaming lightly. Jean Luc smiled and lifted the little wooden spoon. After a moment, the boy slowly opened his mouth, staring Jean Luc in the eye, as if afraid that he would throw the spoon aside and strike the boy, laughing cruelly. But he didn't… the boy gasped slightly when the spoon tipped out its savory contents onto his tongue. Immediately, his eyes fell closed as the incredible flavors drew a tiny whimper from him.

Smiling, Jean Luc continued to feed the boy, moving to sit beside him… after a bit, small hands rested on the side of the bowl, and Jean Luc slid his own hand away, allowing the child to hold the bowl. And then, with a bit if silent coaxing, he had the boy taking the spoon and he was feeding himself. Jean Luc moved his hand to the child's hair, gently stroking the damp locks and beginning to gently work out the tangles, every now and then gently saying "slow down… you make y'self sick…"

When the boy finished the soup, Jean Luc took the bowl and walked over to his desk, retuning with a comb, and a piece of bread. "Here… slowly now, fils…" The small hands seized the bread, but he did as told and ate it slowly, focusing on the feelings of the man combing through his hair.

"Mattie gon' love your hair, boy…" Jean Luc chuckled, his voice warm and soothing… It was long, falling to the child's shoulder blades, soft and silky, and as it dried, it crackled excitedly and clung to Jean Luc's hand, filled with static, making the man laugh slightly as he tried to tame it. It was a lovely rust color, looking dark brown in the shadows, but shone red in the light from the candles and window.

The bread was gone, and Jean Luc noticed that the child was listing to the side. Smiling and running his hand over the boy's hair once more, he rose and knelt before the child. The red and black eyes were glassy, and his lids were drooping heavily. Jean Luc smiled up at him, pushing his hair out of his face. "Time t' sleep, oui?" He said softly, and moved the child up into the middle of the bed, resting him down. The little boy, so tired and now clean with a full belly for the first time in who knows how long, soon slumped down into the soft bed, his eyes falling closed. Jean Luc chuckled at the burp, and drew the blankets up to the boy's chin before he turned and made his way out of his wagon, making sure to lock the boy in…

It was late afternoon, and the Romani were making their way back to camp for supper. Jean Luc joined the other elders around the main fire, accepting a bowl from Tante Mattie.

"How'd it go?" She asked, settling next to him, and his son, Henri, plopped down on his other side.

"Quiet as a mouse…" Jean Luc sighed.

"Still ain't said a word?" Mattie asked.

"Non."

"Maybe he be a mute, Papa?" Henri asked.

"Non… He 'pologized when he bumped into me… in town." Jean Luc told him. "Dat boy scared t' death, dat's all. Neve' seen a child shakin' like dat, cryin' so hard… never seen a child dat… frightened." He sighed. "Jus' wish I knew de boy's name…"

"We ask aroun' in town tomorrow, boss." Called one of the other men.

"I would appreciate dat." Jean Luc nodded.

When he returned to his wagon after dinner, with a little jar in his hand from Mattie, he found that the little boy hadn't stirred. He sighed, staring at the pale face in the candlelight. Soft, young, innocent… the boy was incredibly beautiful. Jean Luc moved to sit on the edge of the bed and pushed the child's hair out of his face. He tried to imagine what name the boy would have, but nothing seemed to fit. After a while, he drew the blankets down and reached out, carefully untying the strings of the shirt, and then brushing each piece out to the side. Then he stared down at the boy's naked body.

He drew in a deep breath as anger burned in his gut… His eyes traced every line of the child's painfully thin body, and the way that his skin was stretched over a distended belly, that was full for possibly the first time in years… he took in every cut, bruise and scrape, feeling a particularly vicious rage at the bruise forming on the child's inner thigh, in the shape of a cruel hand. He wanted to scream out in fury as his mind flashed to knowledge of what would be befalling the boy in that very moment, had Jean Luc not intervened that afternoon. He fought to shove those thoughts aside, even as the image of the boy's face appeared in his mind's eye, streaked with tears as he screamed in pain, begging for mercy as his innocence was violently ripped away…

But no… that didn't happen. And it wouldn't. The child was here, in his wagon, in his bed, safe and sound. Jean Luc turned and picked up the little pot that Mattie had given him and dipped his fingers in, scooping up some of the cream and then turning and humming softly under his breath, he began to dab it on each and every cut and scrape that he could find on the little boy.

The child slept on as he made his way down his torso, but he noticed immediately when the body tensed, and the peaceful breathing suddenly stopped. Jean Luc paused and raised his eyes. The child was awake and staring at him, eyes wide and filled with fear. But Jean Luc only gave him a gentle smile, and resumed his humming. He also looked back at his work, smearing the salve on the boy's scraped knees.

"Dis will make dem all heal faster." He finally said in a soft voice, now turning his attention to the battered shins. "Dis all come from livin on de streets? O' did someone hurt you, petit?" He asked, glancing up at the boy. "… Maybe both?" Still no answer. He sighed and turned his gaze back to the boy's legs, moving down to his ankles. When he got to his feet, he hissed in displeasure. The boy had gone without shoes for a long time. They were littered with little cuts and scars from years past…

"Firs' t'ings firs'… Gonna find some boots fo' you t' wear… You be lucky dese ain't infected…" The child gasped softly when the man lifted his feet and smeared the salve over them, rubbing them, massaging them… it was relaxing, and felt wonderful. Jean Luc smiled up at him.

"I know you had a rough time, petit…" He said. "But dat be all over, now. When we leave dis town, you be comin' wit' us. An' I ain't never lettin' anyone hurt you again, y' hear?" He gently lowered the boy's feet to the bed and covered them with the blanket before moving up, closing the shirt and tying the laces once more, covering his slim body. Then, staring down into the apprehensive face, he said "Y' never gonna go hungry again. Y' always gonna have a roof ove' your head, clothes on y' back, an' y' never gonna be alone…" He reached out and stroked the boy's hair. "Dis be your home now. An' I'm gonna take care o' you. Always. You be mine now… my child. My son… An' I will always love you, and protect you… won't let anyone hurt you again… je promets… Now sleep, mon fils… my son…" And he leaned down, and gently kissed the boy's forehead, before he moved over to his desk and sat down, with his back to the child.

The little boy watched the strange man for a bit, but the soft scratching of his quill on the parchment soon lulled him back to sleep once more…