One Rainy Night (F.A.C.E)

In London

This is a story request from @NiKkIRoSeqwp  Shortly after taking the request some bad stuff happened and I couldn't write for around two years, but I finished the story (short though it is.) I don't believe that user is even on Wattpad anymore, but if they somehow see this, sorry it took so long.

It was getting dark, and no more people would be passing through their park. When another target slipped through their fingers, Matthew's eyes watered. The boys would go hungry tonight.

"Mommy's going to hit us again," the small boy cried.

Alfred's lip started to tremble as well, but then he remembered that he had to be a hero for his brother.

"It okay, Mattie. Don't cry," he said, pulling Matthew into a hug and patting his back in an attempt to comfort him.

In a groggy, hungry daze, the tots shuffled over to a nearby bench. They climbed up on it, and Matthew wiped his nose with his sleeve, letting out little sniffles. The night grew cold, and the sky darkened as clouds blocked the stars.

"I'm hungry," Alfred voiced, his eyes drooping.

"Me too," said Matthew, holding his stomach as they slumped against each other, "I don't like it here."

"Me too. I want to go home."

Matthew could no longer remember the home he meant but nodded. Their eyes drooped as raindrops began to fall around them. Before long, sheets of rain poured down upon the children, too tired to realize that they were being soaked through.

In the dim light of the streetlamps, two men shared an umbrella as they strolled through the park. One of them spotted the children on the bench ahead of them.

"What are they doing here?" he cried, but the other man had already abandoned the umbrella's cover to rush to the boys' side.

He checked for breathing and a pulse. At the same time, he threw off his raincoat. The policeman's uniform underneath quickly became saturated by rain as he wrapped the coat around the children.

"C' mon, lads! Get up! C' mon!" He said, giving them a shake as he knelt on the wet pavement, the other man endeavoring to hold the umbrella over all four of them.

Slowly, small hands moved, and faces twitched, but before anything else, the children started to whine.

"No! I don't want to go!" they cried.

"Shh! Shh! It's alright," said the man on the pavement, "I just need to know where your parents are."

"No, don't tell mommy!" Matthew cried, and the man pulled his raincoat tighter around their shoulders.

"Alright, alright. Steady now. No one is going to tell on you," the policeman calmed, "I'm Sergeant Kirkland, and this is my husband, Francis." He looked up at the other man who had worked his own coat off so that the boys each had a raincoat around them.

"Can you tell us where you live?" Francis asked, crouching beside Arthur. The boys sank back. "Can you tell us who your parents are?"

Alfred shook his head, and Francis pursed his lips. They were scared and insensible, and years of working with abused children told Francis not to test them. His first priority was to get them safe.

"How about we get out of the rain?" he asked, "Arthur and I have a delicious dinner waiting, and you can join us if you want. You can get warm and dry."

They stared up at the soft blue eyes, and Francis held a hand out. Alfred blinked, then slowly reached up to take it. He slid off the bench, and Matthew followed, reaching for Arthur's outstretched hand as he did. Small frames trembling, the boys felt like jelly as the men helped them to their feet.

"How about we carry you the rest of the way? Would that be alright?" said Arthur, holding Matthew up.

Barely maintaining their grasp on consciousness, Alfred and Matthew nodded. Francis and Arthur scooped them up, and the children fell heavily upon their shoulders. Sharing a look, the adults wrapped the warm coats a bit tighter around the little ones.

"Don't worry, lads. We'll be home soon."

Francis wasted no time getting the boys dry and fed. Revitalized with food, Alfred and Matthew were able to give their names and, with a little gentle coaching from Francis, some clues as to how they had been living. They stated that they were 5 years old and lived with their mother. She liked drinking from her "special" bottles and hadn't seen their father since coming to London. They explained that they were taught to take things from people's bags and that if they didn't take enough, mommy would be mad and wouldn't give them anything to eat. They had not eaten in a few days.

Unable to take any more of the boys' stories, Arthur excused himself to contact the police station for information on the children. Alfred and Matthew, however, were perfectly content. Snuggled on the sofa, the softest comforter in the house pillowed around them as Peppa Pig played on the television. They were happier than they could remember ever being. Warm, safe, bellies full, the children slipped into a sound sleep.

Francis tucked the blanket a little closer around them with a heavy sigh as Arthur entered from the other room.

"Chief said they are alright for the night," he said, "Honestly, if I didn't have a badge and you didn't do this for a living, those boys would be in a police waiting room now."

Arthur groaned as he dropped into a chair, still able to see the children from across the small flat. Francis stepped behind him to rub the stress from his shoulders.

"They are such sweet boys," Francis commented, observing Matthew tugging at his sleep clothes generously donated by the family across the hall.

Arthur looked up, his heart-melting as he watched them.

"Arthur," Francis prompted, squeezing Arthur's shoulder. "You know the court will never give their mother custody."

Arthur reached up to grasp the hand over his shoulder.

"They are so sweet, Artie."

"I know."

"I can't just let them get lost in the system."

Arthur nodded, rising to his feet.

"Let's go to bed. We will have to get the boys to the station first thing in the morning," he said, stretching out his muscles, "and our adoption application will have to be finished before then."