Come For Me With Green Apples And Honey (MXM)

Chapter 1

Micah discreetly brushed stands of unruly hair out of his mouth. He looked down at the owner of the wild curls, gently using one hand to smooth them down. "Caleb," he whispered, checking if his nephew was finally sleeping. Caleb was sitting on his uncle's lap with his legs around Micah's waist. He was clinging to the back of his coat and resting his small head on Micah's chest. 'Just like a koala' Micah thought. He leaned against the wall, one hand on Caleb's head and the other between the boy's shoulder blades. It had been a rough day. Micah's had started with a life-altering call at 2 am.

***

Stumbling into his Brooklyn apartment, Micah had zombie-walked into his bedroom. He barely had energy to toe of his shoes and strip down to his boxer briefs before flopping onto the bed. He had finally wrapped up a case that had haunted him for weeks, but it had drained him almost completely, as expected from being detective with the NYPD.

Micah had quickly fallen into a coma, only to be startled out of his dreamless sleep barely an hour later. He had been too disoriented to make sense of the first few words of the call but quickly sobered up upon hearing a familiar jarring sentence.

"....Mr. LeRoux? I'm sorry to inform you that your brother and his wife died in a fire at a friend's dinner party last night," a woman on other end of the line was telling the him.

"What?", he managed after a beat of shocked silence, "What are you saying? How is that possible? Are you sure?"

he heard himself asking all the questions friends and relatives asked when he or his partner informed them of their loved ones' untimely demise. It felt like his brain was thinking through fudge. This woman was trying to tell him Julian was gone? And Natalie too? In a fire? So many questions swirled in his head as he struggled to process the news through a fog of exhaustion and shock. Then something else dawned on him.

"Where's Caleb? Is he ok? Was he hurt?" he asked, dread squeezing his throat and forcing his voice to come out as a squeaky desparate whisper.

"Mr. LeRoux, your nephew is fine. Caleb wasn't with his parents at the time of the incident. He's currently in the police station here in Calais county".

"Police station?!" Micah sputtered, indignant. "Why is he there at 3 in the morning?! He's just a baby!" he continued as he jumped out of bed and went to the closet for clothes. Somewhere in his cloudy mind he knew he was being irrational, but this wasn't the time to care.

The woman was still talking but he was only half listening, still reeling from everything coming his way. She was saying something about a 14 year old babysitter and social services calling earlier in the night to confirm Caleb's pick up time. That got Micah's attention.

Social services? The vision of his precious nephew spending even a second in a group home somewhere had Micah nearly doubling over with anger. No. Just no. He wouldn't let it happen. Still, that was not the time to lose it. He simply cut off whatsherface mid-explanation and asked for relevant information. A name to start, because he wasn't listening when she first introduced herself, an address and directions. Once he got down a few more details he hung up. He was now slightly more lucid and coming back to his normal efficient self. Micah had of course missed crucial information as he hurried about half listening and hopping mad. He'd have to ask later.

Practically working on muscle memory, he quickly pulled a black hoodie on over the white t-shirt and gray jeans he wore while the woman - Officer O'Keith - was still talking. He slipped into a pair of black converse and packed a backpack with a change of clothes and a few other essentials. Then he found his keys, cellphone and wallet, slipped on his coat. He started looking for car keys and then remembered it had been totaled earlier in the day. "Fuck my shitty life" he groaned, then made a beeline for his usual car rental place, completely forgetting about the ungodly hour.