Life, Death, and Time - A Books Of Beginning Collection

Oneshot: Cardboard Boxes

Background: Takes place two months after the canon ending of The Black Reckoning.

Content: Family, Healing, Mild Angst.

It seemed there was endless amounts of cardboard to unpack. The boring brown boxes filled the rental house Richard and Clare had acquired for their family. Packing peanuts and styrofoam littered the floor and one could not seem to move around without stepping on some of it. The items that had been unpacked, mostly donations and hand-me-down gifts, were stacked wherever there was space, mostly because the Wibberlys were still in the process of acquiring furniture for the house.

The house itself wasn't anything special, but it wasn't bad. Indeed, it was nicer than most of the orphanages the children had been stuck in, there was enough space for the five family members, and it was located in a calm neighborhood. The trees in the front yard were starting to lose the first leaves of September, and the hot water for the shower worked, which was a blessing after that wretched orphanage in Baltimore, where even in winter the water was cold.

Yes, there was nothing wrong with the house. But at the same time, there was everything wrong with the house.

For one thing, Richard and Clare were calling it "home". It was not home, not in the eyes of the Wibberly siblings. It was just another new place to stay in a long line of new places to stay. After ten years, they could not attach the word "home" to any place or building or city. Home was simply when Kate and Michael and Emma were all together. The setting didn't matter.

For another thing, the house was filled with cardboard and bubble wrap and cots to sleep on until they acquired proper beds. There was nothing personal or connecting about it, it was all unfeeling boxes and beige walls. And that made it even more impossible to pretend that everything was fine.

The truth of the matter was, three grieving children who had learned early on to only rely on each other were attempting to cope with the trauma of all that had happened. While the parents they barely knew were trying to forge a reconnection in their family.

So far, it had been awkward and painful and slow. But Richard and Clare hoped to get to know their children and get their family to open up. And they hoped that the first piece of furniture they were putting together - a table to eat their meals at - would help.

Of course, it could only help if they managed to build it, and as of right now, that wasn't going too well.

"This is stupid! We saved the whole world, why is putting together some furniture so hard?" Emma exclaimed.

Michael glared at her, though it wasn't very intimidating, partially because he was Michael and partially because his face was drenched with sweat and his glasses were millimeters away from slipping off his nose. "Why are you complaining when you aren't even helping?"

Clare sighed loudly, being pushed to her limit by their constant squabbling. She was thrilled to have her children back, but she had never expected this many petty arguments in her life. 

Fortunately, Richard noticed and cleared his throat, "calm down you two. I'm looking over the instructions to see where we went wrong. They're just a bit confusing."

Richard was indeed in charge of the instructions, being gifted with both patience and logic. Unfortunately, not even that solid combination was enough to confidently decipher the confusing bundle of papers in his hands.

Not that the others were having an easier time with their tasks. Clare was handling the tools, being a very hands-on and practical person, and the better parent for dealing with appliances. But without the right directions she found herself putting table legs in places table legs were not supposed to go. And Michael, who was in charge of fetching tools and materials, was trying his best to get what she needed, but didn't have quite the same knowledge of human tools that he did dwarfish.