Closed Following leads

[Michael Beech]

Michael didn’t know much about his birth family with just scraps of information that he couldn't really trust. He had no photographs, no memories and no one who could really tell him anything of value. But he had a name. And one item that was a small locket with a family crest on it. That name and single possession had led him here to a shop. From what little he’d managed to piece together, this was where his mother might’ve worked and maybe still did for all he knew. Or maybe it was nothing at all. It was hard to let himself hope, and even harder to stay calm now that he was here.

Wrapped in a coat to protect from the cold afternoon, Michael hovered outside the door. His fingers reached for reassurance in his pocket, finding the locket as he decided what to do. He could go in. Just open the door and ask. But the nerves held him outside for at least a little longer.

 

[James Michaels]

James was pretty insistent on keeping up his weekly visits with his uncle Chal. He loved the tea, he worshipped the man, it was all around just a great time. He'd just finished one of his visits, humming to himself as he strolled back down the steps and out the front door- only to find a kid on the doorstep. James stopped himself just in time, keeping himself from running into the poor boy. "Oh!" He stepped back, an easy smile slipping onto his face. The kid looked mildly familiar, but he couldn't place it. "Sorry bout that," James apologized, his Irish accent thick. "You lookin' for uncle Chal? He's upstairs," He stepped back to let the kid in.

 

[Michael Beech]

Michael looked down sheepishly as a man opened the shop door and nearly ran into him. He seemed friendly enough and even stood letting him enter. He was holding the door open for him. Michael hesitated, still not entirely sure he was ready to go in yet. "Oh uh, no. I’m actually looking for Myra. Is she here?"

 

[James Michaels]

James froze, unable to help the dark scowl that crossed his face. "No," He cleared his throat, shaking his head to clear it. "My sister is not here, she will never be here, or anywhere near this family again." He offered a little harsher than he meant to. He cleared his throat. "Sorry, sorry, I'm just- sorry," He decided on, not wanting to push his hate of that vile woman onto some innocent kid. He cleared his throat again, took a breath, and looked a little closer at the kid. "Why... are you looking for my sister?" He asked, taking a small step closer. James' brow furrowed, warmth coming over his face and chasing away the cold of before. "Kid?" He asked softly.

 

[Michael Beech]

Michael flinched at the tone at first, he didn’t know what to say to this man who could be relative, an uncle if Myra was who he thought. He shrugged, unable to meet his eye at first and replied, “I think she might be my mother.” It came out quieter than he meant it to, maybe because the man clearly hated her, but it was a relief in some ways that he did know her and this visit was not a complete waste of time. He met the man's eye for a moment then managed to explain a little better. "I’ve got her name. That’s all I’ve ever had. And something she left behind.” He pulled his hand out of his coat pocket and offered him the locket he'd been gripping. “It’s not much. But it led me here."

 

[James Michaels]

-godmods approved-

James was silent for several long moments, shock clear on his face. Myra had... she'd what? She'd had a three year old and she'd still attacked the twins? James moved abruptly, taking several long strides forward. He grabbed the boy roughly, yanking him into a tight hug. One arm locked around the boys back and the other hand gripped the back of his head, holding him in tightly against James. "I'm so sorry," He whispered. "We didn't know. She didn't- I would have come for you," His voice was rough, thick with tears. "You're ours now, A leanbh*, and we're not letting you go," He promised fiercely, heart thundering in his chest.

*my child