Lavender Snow

Flashbacks

Tommy squinted at the cube of a building in front of him. Pediatric center. Phil and Kristin had said it was some sort of place to help with his injuries, similar to the healing stations in the Essempí.

Kristin put a hand on his shoulder and he flinched. She pulled her hand back immediately. "Sorry, forgot you didn't like that."

Tommy forced his muscles to relax and went back to staring at the reflection-less black street. "'S okay."

Phil and Kristin had given him permission to speak whenever he wanted after the interrogation last night. It was. . . nice.

They entered the building. Phil and Kristin led him to the—

The receptionist looked down her nose at him, sneering. "God, it's disgusting. You'll have to chip off layers of dust before you reach any skin underneath. What were you doing?"

The man snorted, gripping Tommy's arm tightly. "This one's a fighter. It managed to escape for an hour before we got it under control. How long does the branding take, again?"

"Thirteen hours," the receptionist drawled. "After that we'll ship it off to the laboratories to figure out its species before it's sent to the apartment."

Tommy struggled against the man, flailing his fists wildly and snapping his teeth at the hand on his arm. The man squeezed him harder, making him shriek in pain.

"Tell the labs to do an extra training session on it, I don't want it misbehaving when it's sold."

"LET ME GO!" Tommy screamed, tears running down his face. "LET ME GO, I'M NOT YOURS, LET ME GO, LET ME GO—"

"Tommy! Tommy!"

There was a hand on his arm, he wanted it off, it hurt, it hurt—

"Tommy!"

He gasped, opening his eyes, and was immediately met with Phil's startling blue irises. Tommy threw his hands up, covering his face. Not now, not here, with people staring at him, he had really fucked up this time, they hated him they were going to kill him in this— pedriatic's center, and the hand was on his back now but it didn't hurt, it didn't hurt, god why didn't it hurt?!

"Yyyyyep," an unfamiliar voice said. "That's definitely a trauma response."

Tommy peeked through his fingers. The man— man behind the desk was looking at him with scrunched-up eyebrows. The strange expression was mirrored on Phil and Kristin's faces.

"You alright, mate?" Phil said softly. "You're okay, you're safe, we're just going to get you into a room to have someone look at you. Is that okay, or do you want to go back to our house?"

Tommy nodded slowly, embarrassed. He shakily pushed himself to his feet, trying to think about anything but the hand on his arm touching touching but not hurting— no. Focus on the floor. It was polished and clean and just slightly reflective enough for him to see the shapes of people coming near him.

Phil and Kristin and the receptionist escorted him to a small, plain room. Tommy shut his eyes as they entered, as the floor changed to carpet and he couldn't tell if there was anyone there or not.

"Here we go, just sit here, okay?" Kristin said, guiding him to a chair. Tommy started to sit, then realized there were only two chairs and sat on the ground instead.

"Dr. Ponk will be here in a minute," the receptionist said, "in the meantime Sam will get you guys started with some basic questions."

"Thanks," Phil said warmly. Tommy kept his gaze on the ground as the receptionist left and was immediately replaced by another man.