Mess
Series: The Anchor's Chain
Summary: Family are a nuisance. Sometimes. Most of the time. But a change raises concern and the cousins aren’t sure how to deal with this new development.

Warnings: Kiddie conversation and some necessary seemingly gap filler-like scenes. I hope you like this. Things speedball a bit after this chapter. Thanks to _profiterole_ for the beta reading.

“Good morning, dear,” Anelle greeted her son the next morning when he stumbled into the east kitchen for breakfast, voice rising above the din of its many occupants.

Nicholas covered his mouth with both hands, trying and failing to suppress a head-splitting yawn even as he expertly avoided a trio of his littlest cousins dashing by. He muttered, “G’ mornin’ mum.” Dropping into the empty seat beside her he dropped his head on the table and let his arms hang down loosely at his sides.

The gigantic kitchen personified chaos with so many people home for the weekend. Situated in the eastern rear corner of the main house, the dual-kitchen work area, shaped like a large E of counters and machinery, had people bustling about the ovens and toasters or stoves. On the long island table parallel to the kitchen counters, eggs, toast, beans, tomatoes and hash browns liberally decorated various plates waiting to be picked up. Children and parents bargained over quantities and shares before picking up their plates and heading into the nearby spacious hall area by the floor to ceiling windows, filled with eight long tables and their benches. Conversations completely independent of each other filled the air with such noise that one could not tell if most of the din came from the children or the adults.

Four year old Lisa, one of the youngest of the cousins, pulled gently on one of Nicholas’ fingers to get his attention. “Hi Nicky,” she said cheerfully, smiling brightly, chin streaked a little with ketchup and her hands a bit sticky.

Nicholas smiled back and sat up, reaching for the nearest of the many boxes of wet wipes scattered over the tables. He patted the space beside him on the bench and Lisa obediently hopped up, lifting her chin for the clean-up.

“I’m going to get dirty again,” she reminded him, eyes sliding sideways to where two more cousins, six year old boys, were chasing each other around one of the tables, looking like no one could catch and stop them. But then someone cast a spell and the two suddenly floated up into the air, groaning in protest, and that was the end of that.

Gently wiping up her face Nicholas chuckled and told her, “Maybe. But even young knights had to clean up after battle.”

Her eyes sparkled when they looked up at him, “I like you, Nick. You’re the only one who doesn’t call me a princess.”

Rolling his eyes, Nicholas joked, “They just haven’t seen you punch out the boys, dear.”

“I’d get in trouble if they did,” she solemnly agreed with a sage nod. Looking worried, “Nick?”

“Yes, Liz?”

“Are you going away?” she plaintively asked, eyes big.

Nicholas blinked down at her. “I’m just going to school. Liz, you know I go to school like Marcus and—”

“No.” She curled a hand in the hem of his shirt as though to hold him in place. “I mean, away and not coming back?”

“No.” Nicholas shoved the used wipes into one of the table bins. “I’m just going to school.” He paused then said, “Well, maybe eventually I’ll have to go away, though. I forgot about that.” He rumpled her hair a little, “I think… I’ll have to leave in a few years. But not for a few looong years.”

She blinked up at him, eyes a little moist. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Pause, curiosity overcoming him, “Why do you ask?”

“Because momma was telling daddy she was sorry you might have to go to the collection.” She frowned a little, “Why are you going to the collection?”

Nicholas sighed, aware his mother’s attention had returned to him. “I think your mum meant the Collective, Liz.” She nodded. “It’s a place where some people need to go. People like me.” He briefly tickled her stomach, smiling when she laughed then asked, “Remember Marcus can tell what people are feeling?”

She nodded, eyes going wide again. “Uh-huh. He always knows when things hurt, too. Like when Rex fell down by the river and couldn’t come home because he hurt his foot.” Her eyes darted over to one of her little cousins. “And then Peter got locked up once but the house is so big that no one could hear him. Marcus knew right away.”

“That’s right,” Nicholas smiled, her attention coming back to him when he spoke. “You’re a clever girl.” She grinned blissfully at the praise. “Well, do you remember what I can do?”

Nodding again, Liz looked up at the ceiling as though reciting the words from memory, “You can tell when things are going to happen.” Scrunching up her nose she told him, “But I think you need to practice because you didn’t tell Rex he was going to hurt his foot, or Peter that he was going to get lost.”

Nicholas grinned and noticed his mother did the same. “That’s true. I’m really not very good at it.”

“So that’s what the collection is for?”

“Collective, darling.”

She carefully pronounced, “Col-lec-tive.”

“The Collective is for people like me and who can do stuff like I can, yes.” Nicholas chanced a look at his mother and found her expression had darkened. He summoned up a smile for Liz, “It’s not so great to be there though because I wouldn’t be allowed to leave any more.”

“Ever?” Liz asked with surprise.

“Nope.”

“What about to come home?” She began to look upset.

“Umm. No.”

Liz’s eyes had widened again, only now they also glistened with unhappy tears. “Never ever?”

“Never ever.”

“Well,” she pronounced with a That’s The End of That tone, “You don’t belong there even if anyone says you do.”

Nicholas blinked at her. “Why do you say that?”

“I love you, Nicky.” Liz reached over suddenly and hugged him tightly. “You’re part of my family and I don’t want you to go.”

Nicholas hugged her back. Was it really so simple?

Then she added, “Besides, if they don’t let you go anywhere then how can you practice and you show us when you get good at it?”

He shared an amused, long-suffering look with his mother… even through the little flashes of light behind his right eye, the sight of green denim coveralls he recognised as Liz’s favourite, a splash of water, a shout and laughing boys. “Little Knight?”

“Hm?”

“Be sure you stay in the back yard today, okay?” he rubbed her shoulder. “Something tells me you shouldn’t go near the lake today.”

“Why?” she innocently asked, leaning back to look up at him.

He smiled gently at her, “Some of the boys might go to the lake later but you should probably stick with the others here. You wouldn’t want to ruin your favourite coveralls, would you?”

Just then her mother called her attention to have her morning bath, coveralls in hand and realisation hit the little girl, making her excitedly crow, “You practiced!”

Nicholas popped a quick kiss on her forehead and off she dashed. He shook his head at his own mother when she opened her mouth to ask.

--

“Liz is right, you know,” Aunt Beth muttered darkly at him from the driver’s seat. “Sometimes it really can be so simple.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Nicholas replied vaguely, folding and refolding his hands in his lap, staring out the passenger window.

“Hm,” she returned, noncommittally. “Let’s see how this one goes, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He watched the scenery pass them by, whirls and dashes and the sound coming up behind them of an approaching motorbike. Instantly he thought of Vane, thought of the running wheels and wind blowing by, the feeling of freedom riding on a motorbike and—

A bit of pain blossomed suddenly and harshly in his head, half maybe what a full-blown Vision usually was, his sight flashed with red and black, he heard a muted roar and saw a colourful little ball bounce across a black road.

“Aunt Beth.”

“Hm?” she turned the steering wheel as they took a long, sweeping left hand turn on the country road, and ahead, the road appeared deserted.

Quietly but firmly he instructed, “Signal to turn right, please.”

“What?”

“Signal to turn right,” he insisted.

She obeyed; slowing the car a little, she signalled to the right as though to turn off the road and across oncoming traffic. Behind them, the motorcycle caught up.

“Brake harder. Go like you’re really turning.”

And when she moved to turn, blocking the middle of the thoroughfare and moving the car across the road, the motorbike behind them slowed to circle around them on the left to overtake.

Once he passed, Nicholas reached out and put a hand on her arm, “It’s okay. You can go back now.”

She tossed him a puzzled look but carefully rejoined the flow despite the emptiness of the road, moving back to the main highway. When they got going again and cleared a right hand turn, Nicholas saw the motorcycle had moved quite a ways ahead of them. Just as the rider approached the residential area, a colourful little ball bounced onto the road and the motorcyclist easily pulled down his speed to a full stop as a child dashed out onto the road after the toy.

It did not miss Aunt Beth’s notice. “Not bad.” He shrugged. “That’s the sort of thing I want to see you do,” Aunt Beth said quietly. “And it to not mean what the Council says it does.”

That his powers were sharpening to a point he would not be able to handle it. He wanted it to not mean that, too.

Quietly, Aunt Beth asked, “Are you able to choose what you see?”

“No.” Nicholas shrugged. “Nothing like that. They’re still forced on me. Someone out there decides I need to know it and the vision comes.” He shrugged, “That’s the best way to put it.”

After a thoughtful pause, she asked, “Did you get a chance to read the notes I printed out for you last night?”

“The translation from the Drakes’ document? Yes.” He sighed, “It’s all so vague, though. How does one really know when ‘the senses balance and the haze clears’ or whatever that means?”

Beth sighed, “I was hoping that if I wrote the literal translations that you would just know when it happened.”

Nicholas sighed, himself. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“We’ll see,” she returned, and they exchanged small smiles as she pulled up to their destination. “Here we are. Sarah Stamford’s house.” She eyed him, “You ready for this?”

Nicholas tried not to roll his eyes and settled for a suffering sigh, “Bring ‘em on.”

--

“Shaking hands?” Elliot asked. “That’s it? An afternoon spent… shaking magic-able people’s hands. Are you serious?”

“Yep,” Nicholas grumbled, letting himself fall back on his bed as Elliot plopped down into a chair. “It was pretty much like a mothers’ tea party and they dragged all their kids to it. My mother and the other mothers all fluttered about making noises and studying us, serving drinks and finger food. We stood around and I shook hands with them all, said hi, asked if anything happened. Nothing happened, of course.”

“Don’t say that,” Elliot muttered. “Something might happen one day.”

“Don’t tell me you actually agree with this hair-brained idea?” Nicholas groaned.

With a shrug, Elliot admitted, “It’s something.”

“That’s what they said,” Nicholas grumbled. Then he sighed, “Whatever. I promised. I’ll try. But I can’t do anything if nothing happens.” He reached blindly for the binder of printed sheets Aunt Beth had given him and squinted at it before holding it out to his best friend and hanging his head in dejection, “And what the hell does the ‘rising crescendo preceding the distant cacophony’ mean, anyway? The whole thing is wrapped up in contradictions or myth, I tell you. This isn’t very encouraging.”

No answer.

Nicholas lifted his head just enough to catch sight of Elliot deeply engrossed in the notes, reading with that tiny furrow between his brows that meant he was gone to the world for the next however long it was until he took a break.

“Come in,” he called at the knock on the door.

“Cool,” Marcus stepped into the room, “You’re both here. So how did it…?”

Nicholas held out a hand and Marcus shrugged before curling a leg under himself as he sat on the bed by Nicholas’ side and grasped it, his eyes refocusing to some place far away as he reviewed the memories.

“Hm,” he muttered. “Nice work there with the kid.”

“Thanks.” Nicholas yawned as he withdrew his hand, watching Marcus shift on the bed to his other side and lean over to read over Elliot’s shoulder. Nicholas settled in for a nap; these two could take a while. “But don’t ask me how I knew, I have no idea, I just did.”

“What kid?” Vane’s voice asked from the vicinity of the door.

“Kid a motorcyclist almost ran over,” Nicholas replied without opening his eyes, listening to the door shut.

“Nicky here,” Marcus picked up, “Got it to not happen.”

“Nice.” The bed shifted and Vane’s voice was closer. “So does that happen often now?” The thread of tension in it was exactly the same as that in Aunt Beth’s when she’d asked.

“Been happening a little more often in the past year,” Marcus answered for him, sensing his own irritation with this all. “Just… sometimes. He can’t control it.”

A gentle hand stroked over Nicholas’ head and he recognised it as Vane’s, large and warm. “You look tired, Nicky. Sorry about Nix.”

“Hm. Nap now, please.”

Vane gave him a gently playful shove. “Silly git.”

Nicky raised an arm to swat him, “You’re the silly—” he broke off in a gasp. His eyes were still closed but a dash of a deeper black from left to right, almost in toward his face, startled him terribly. There dropped a hammer of pain along with the scent of wet cold, a scent and not a sensation, clouded shouting in the background and the vision of— “Marcus!” he blinked as he shot bolt upright but had to squeeze his eyes shut at the strange thumping in his head. He reached blindly for Marcus, peeking through one slit eye, “Geez, are you okay?”

Marcus had scooted off the bed and jumped to his feet, hands pulled back to his chest, looking panicked as he stared at Nicholas. “Shit!”

“Close one,” Vane said grimly studying the distance between them.

“Marcus,” Nicholas moaned, wrinkling his brow and pressing his hand over his eyes, head throbbing distantly. He peeked through one eyes again, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“I know,” Marcus nodded then winced and rubbed his forehead, “Damn that hurt. If I’d been holding on to you…”

“Damn.” Nicholas drew a shaky hand over his hair, blinking as he looked up at his cousin. “Did you catch anything?”

Marcus nodded, closing his eyes a moment, “I got an echo of it in a half second like you did. That was some head-splitter. Are they all… like… that?” When he looked at Nicky, his voice trailed off, eyes widening in shock.

“What?” Nicholas asked, instantly nervous when Vane also leaned over for a better look at him, disbelief dawning on his face and Elliot looked just as anxious.

“Um, Nicky?” Elliot looked stricken as he slowly spoke, “Your eyes are blue.”

TBC.