//------------------------------// // Chapter 17: Terror // Story: Partial // by Halira //------------------------------// Jessica knocked on the front door of the house. It only took a moment for someone to answer, and Jessica found herself facing a man about her height. The man blinked as he noticed her size and blinked again when he saw her ears.  "You're Jessie?" the man asked uncertainly.   She was tempted to tell him she could be addressed as Doctor Middleton after he had looked at her ears and seemed put off balance by her. She needed to have access to Mark, and that meant she needed to be on good terms with these people.  "You can call me Jessica or Jess," she said with a smile, holding out a hand.  He smiled and shook her hand. "I'm Jack. Please, come in." She stepped inside and saw a foal, a boy, and another woman. Instinctively, she listened to the rest of the house. While there were a few other sets of heartbeats in the house, she could dismiss most of those as mice, not uncommon for older homes. There was one stronger heartbeat above her. This house was one story, but there was enough room for a storage area above, and the staircase in the corner of the room confirmed that.  "That lady's tall!" the colt exclaimed.  Usually, she wouldn't be happy about anything drawing attention to her height, but if that was what that colt found unusual about her, she'd gladly take it.  "Nice tail," the boy said. She pulled her tail closer. "Hello," she greeted the household. "Is Mark okay?" "He's hiding and scared, but he should be fine otherwise," the woman said. "He startled me, and then my reaction scared him, then we searched for him, and it ended up scaring him more. We know he's in the storage space, but the ceiling is low enough up there we can't even stand up straight, and there's too many hiding places. Plus, the floor can't hold that much weight in one spot. Jack fell through a few years ago when putting things away." "We're very sorry we had to call you, but we were unsure what to do, and your father had told us you were the only person he trusts," Jack said as he shut the front door.  The boy looked at her. "Can she even go up there? She has to weigh close to the same as Jack." Jessica was not liking this kid, but she kept smiling, even if it was forced.  "I don't need to. Mark can hear me, and he knows my voice," she replied. She then looked upward and projected her voice. "Mark? You need to come down here. It's safe. I will make sure nothing bad happens and that you don't get in trouble." She heard Mark practically sprint towards the stairs. Everyone else had to hear him, too, and were looking upward. Mark's pace slowed as he came down the stairs.  Jessica decided to sit down on the floor. "It's okay, Mark. Come over here. We need to talk." Mark leapt out of the shadows of the stairwell and ran straight to Jessica's lap. She gently rubbed his head.  "You've been waiting for me, haven't you?" she asked.  He flinched. "Yes." She sighed as Mark's foster family watched, and she looked the family over in turn. The colt seemed to be just a happy little colt. Ponies tended to have less prejudice against partials, and the ones that had it learned it from somewhere. The boy was making her uneasy, but she could be oversensitive. Hard to say anything about the parents. They weren't showing her any hostility, and her dad wouldn't have left Mark here if they felt that way about partials.  "You can't do that," she said to Mark. "That's going to get you in trouble. I know you got scared, but these people aren't here to hurt you." "Want you," Mark whined.  She gave him a gentle hug. "I know you do. I want to adopt you, too, but that will take time. You have to be good in the meantime." "Now," Mark protested.  How was she going to deal with this? She hadn't even started the application process. She had no idea how long the process would take. In the meantime, he needed to be able to live comfortably and safely here with no fear. That wouldn't work if he was hiding. It wouldn't work if he refused to come out for anybody but her. It wasn't just her who had work to do to make this adoption possible; it was also Mark.  "Mark, you remember the story I told you about the race?" she asked him.  "Yes." "That was about me, and do you know what happened when that race was over?" "What?" he asked with interest.  "I made my first real friend. A friend who has been my best friend for longer than you've been alive," she answered. She pointed at the colt. "Back when I was little, about the same age and size as that colt over there… um… what's your name?" "Wishing Well!" the colt said happily.  She nodded. "Back when I was around the same size as Wishing Well, my parents were worried about me. I didn't have any friends. I didn't think I needed any friends. All the other kids were so different from me. How could I be friends with them?" She rubbed his head again and scratched gently at his ears. "But I was wrong. I did need friends. When all the scary stuff happened later, I wouldn't have survived without my friends, and they might not have survived without me. We needed each other. People do better when they have friends." "You're my friend," Mark said.  "Yes, but I'm not enough. No single friend can be enough because no one, no matter how much they want to be, can be there to help you all the time. Do you think your grandma wanted you to be alone, scared, and hungry for so long?" "No!" he replied passionately.  "That's right. She cared about you, but things came up where she couldn't be there for you, and because she was your only friend and the only one who knew about you, what happened?" Mark whimpered a little. She rubbed his ears again.  "The more friends you have, the more chances there will be someone there to care for you when you need help," she told him. "I care about you. Your grandma cares about you, but something happened to your grandma, and you never know if something might happen to me. I have been in danger before. I could be in danger again." "No!" he cried.  "I'm sorry, but it's true," she said gently. "Even if I'm not in danger, I'm not always going to be around. Your grandma left you alone regularly to go get food and other things, right?" "Yeah." "There was always a chance something could happen while she was gone; that's why she taught you to hide, but hiding isn't going to be good enough anymore." It should never have been the go-to solution to begin with, but she wasn't going to criticize his grandmother to him like that.  "Everybody knows you exist. You can't hide anymore," she continued. "You need to start making friends. You need lots of people who care about you. They do care about you already; that's why they called me to help you, but you must also care about them. Friendship goes both ways. You care about me and your grandma, right?" "Yes." "You want to be around me because you care about me, right?" "Yes." She looked at Wishing Well. Her dad said he had high hopes that the colt could befriend Mark. "Do you want to be around Mark?" Wishing Well practically pranced in place. "That's all I've been saying!" Mark cringed at his voice, and she thought she understood one problem.  "Mark, I know he's a little loud, but that's because he's happy you're here. There's good and bad loud," she explained. "Wishing Well is good loud." "Good loud?" Mark asked as if it were a foreign concept to him. Maybe it was.  "Yes, he's being very loud about how he wants to be your friend," she confirmed. "Someone who wants to be your friend is a good place to start with making friends. Not everyone who says they want to be your friend is telling the truth, but I believe Wishing Well, and I believe your for-now parents. Maybe that boy, too. You should try being a friend back." "How?" Mark asked.  She nuzzled him briefly before answering. "You can talk to them. Play with them. Learn about them. Let them learn about you. Don't hide from them–unless you're playing hide-and-seek. Tell each other jokes." "Jokes?" She blinked. "Yes, jokes. You do know what jokes are, right?" "No." "Oh boy…" she said, letting off a long breath. "We've got some work to do."  How did he get to four years old and not know what a joke was? If his grandmother weren't in a coma, Jessica would strangle her. She knew the old woman cared about him, but many things were neglected. It was ironic. When she was Mark's age, her parents were deeply concerned that she wasn't socializing enough. Now, here she was, worried deeply about Mark's social development.  "I'm not the best with humor, so someone else will have to help you with that," she said. "That's one of the good things about friends. Different friends are better at different things." "Okay." "Now, can you try making friends with Wishing Well?" she asked.  "Okay." She looked at him. "That requires you to get out of my lap and introduce yourself to him. Say, I'm Mark. What's your name?" Mark slowly made his way out of her lap and, even then, stayed close to her after that. He did face Wishing Well, even if his face was down. "I'm Mark. What's your name?" Mark asked quietly.  Wishing Well practically jumped in place. "Hi, Mark! I'm Wishing Well! But you can call me Wishing!" Mark just silently sat there. This was going to take a lot of work.  She looked in the corner and saw the blocks sitting there. They didn't look like what the human boy would be playing with, so they must have been Wishing Well's. "I see some blocks in the corner. How about you ask if the two of you can play with the blocks together," she suggested. "Friends do things together." Mark looked at the blocks, then looked at Wishing Well. "Can we play with the blocks?" Wishing Well hurried over to the corner and gestured for Mark to follow. "Yeah! We can play with blocks! You can help me make a castle!" "Go on. You're doing good," Jessica said.  Mark practically crawled over to the corner with the blocks. He sat for a moment, and Wishing Well started stacking blocks. Mark looked at her again and then looked at the blocks before tentatively lifting a block and examining it. He continued to do this, block by block, before he finally started building anything.  The woman came over to her while she watched. "Thank you. I guess he just needed a little extra encouragement. Wishing is a loving little colt who I know can make friends with anyone if given the opportunity. He's got that now." Jack walked over to her as well. The human boy sat where he was and pulled out his phone. He was older than the other two, so he might not be interested in the same things.  "You seem to have a strong bond with him," Jack said. "Your dad said that Mark wants you to adopt him, and from what I heard, it sounds like you do too. Don't worry. We won't try to get in the way of that. These three aren't our first three that have come through here. We want every kid to end up with the right home, and we know we are just a pit stop on that. We've actually been thinking about taking the next step with Wishing Well. It's the first time we've seriously discussed it about one of our fosters. He's a good colt–a little overly excitable, but he's also only five, so that's to be expected." "Most the kids who come through here have relatives that they're just waiting to get their lives together, like Caleb over there. They just need a safe and stable home environment while waiting for that. Mark and Wishing are the first two actual orphans that have arrived," Jill explained.  "We've even had a few older kids who only needed adult supervision until they were old enough to get their own places," Jack said. "Everyone has their own circumstances, but I think Mark is the most unique kid that has come in here." He scratched his head. "Sorry if I gave you a funny look when you showed up. Mark was the first partial we'd seen since back during ETS. Your dad hadn't mentioned that, so we were caught off guard. We just tried matching your name to your dad's address to find your phone number. We weren't sure we'd find you without calling your dad." She'd gotten a little prickly when he started talking about her being partial, but she made herself relax. He didn't seem to be hostile or prejudiced against partials. She needed to be on good terms with these two, and she couldn't assume the worst of everyone. "You didn't look up anything but my phone number?" she asked. "Searching for me on the internet should pull up a lot of entries. I'm fairly famous. Doctor Jessica Middleton." "Really?" Jill asked. "We had no idea." "Found her!" Caleb said, holding up his hand. "She's like a hero or something and a famous scientist. There's a movie and a bunch of documentaries about her." "Documentaries? Really?" she asked. She had no clue there were documentaries about her.  Caleb nodded. "Lots of them. Um, there's also a bunch of stuff I can't see. It says it is mature content." She blushed. When anyone or anything got famous enough, people inevitably made certain types of content about it. Jordan had introduced her to the wide-wide world of Star Trek porn and told her about other fandoms. Jordan didn't even watch Star Trek; she only read the raunchy fanfiction.  "I don't want to know what's marked for mature," Jessica said. "Anyway, I have an uphill battle adopting Mark. I won't be twenty-one for another year and a half. My dad says that requirement can be waived, but I've got some work to do in order to accomplish it. I'm worried they'll block me till I'm twenty-one." "Mark will be here waiting if that happens," Jack assured her. "The longest we've had to foster a kid is five years, but we kept them safe and gave them a good home the whole time they were here. If Mark needs to wait a year and a half, we'll do the same, and you are always welcome to visit him." "Just call first," Jill said. "It isn't good for the kids if random people keep showing up at the house out of the blue all the time." Jessica watched Mark. He was now watching Wishing Well's construction and trying to imitate it. It was still Wishing who was doing all the talking, aside from some one-word responses from Mark. At least he was giving the colt some verbal response, and he did seem to be legitimately engrossed in playing with the blocks.  "I'll do that," she answered them.  She stood up, still looking at Mark, who immediately noticed she had stood.  "I need to head home, Mark. I have work to do," she informed him.  "Stay!" Mark protested, abandoning the blocks to run over to her. He grabbed onto her leg.  She looked down but didn't bend down. "I have to leave, but I'll return in a few days. This is your time to start making friends. I want to hear about all the games you played and the things you did. You need to tell me all about Wishing Well when I get back, and not just that he is a loud pony who likes blocks. Can you do that for me?" "Okay," Mark reluctantly said, releasing her.  She bent down and hugged him after that, careful not to squeeze too hard. "And if you feel like you have to hide because you're scared, hide in your room. You could get hurt in some of the other places, like upstairs." "Okay." She was going to get him speaking regularly in sentences. She knew he could speak in sentences; he'd done it. That was a problem for another day. Maybe playing with Wishing Well would help with that.  "Thank you again," Jill said as Jessica stood back up.  "Yes, thank you," Jack said.  "Anytime," she said with a smile.  "Thanks for letting me take care of that, Dad," Jessica said as she put some more of her shorts into a drawer.  Her dad was busy setting up her computer system on her desk. "They called you, not me. I didn't officially know about anything that was going on. I'm sure they'll tell me all about it tomorrow." She frowned. "Should they have called you? Are they breaking some rule?" "It's kind of a gray area," he replied. "If they have a problem with a child that they can't handle, they're supposed to call social services, but technically, they handled it by calling you. It can be argued either way. We would judge it by the severity of the problem.  If all is well now, and there weren't any medical issues, we won't fuss about it." "Oh," she replied, unsure what else to say but wanting to acknowledge she was listening. "Dad…if for some reason I get denied because of my age, what are the chances Mark would be adopted by someone else in the next year and a half." He sat down in her swivel chair. "You want the honest answer? If you don't adopt him, I doubt anyone will." She spun to look at her dad. "Why?! Is it because he's a partial?" He hung his head. "Yes and no. I know it's unfair, but he could be seen as having a severe disability. We don't know if he has any additional health issues we need to be concerned with due to his unique physiology. The fact he's a partial is just extra baggage and maintenance, and kids with too much baggage and maintenance involved in caring for them often never get adopted. It's younger, healthy, kids without a lot of trauma in their pasts that typically end up getting adopted. Lots of prospective parents say they are eager to adopt, but once they start hearing about needing doctors or psychologists or any number of things that come with these kids, they tend to shy away. They want to adopt, but they don't want to take responsibility to care for all the difficulties these kids bring with them." "So the ideal kids for getting adopted are the ones like Wishing Well?" Jessica asked.  Her dad nodded. "Wishing still needs some therapy, which he is getting. Both his parents died suddenly, and that's traumatic, but he's healthy and young, and young kids bounce back from things like that better than older ones. If you have a disability or are getting into the double digits of age, your chances of getting adopted are slim." She never knew that. Her dad had been a social worker for years, but she never asked him much about his job. The fact that these kids could lose everything and then have no one want them broke her heart.  "So, should I be prepared for lots of doctors and psychologists with Mark?"Jessica asked. "In terms of health, be ready for anything. The fact he is so small for his age is concerning. There's a possibility he may never get that big, and that could lead to having to do major renovations to anywhere you live. This apartment won't cut it if that's the case," her dad answered. "As for psychologists, I think it's fairly obvious he has some severe social development issues, worse than what you went through. I know you want to adopt him, but you must understand what you are getting into with him. A parent having to give up a kid they adopted or having a troubled home because they aren't able to adapt to the kid's needs is as bad as them not getting adopted at all. Think about what it does to a kid who has to go through being put in the system more than once." She slammed her short drawer closed. "So, I'm moving into my own place, and it might work against me adopting Mark. Fudge!" "Maybe you and Mark need to spend the next year or two getting yourselves together," her dad suggested. "Are you prepared to sit through all the counselor visits while starting a new career? Are you prepared to let go of your freedom to do what you want before you even have a chance to figure out what that is? And before you misunderstand me, I'm not saying don't try to adopt him. I'm saying don't rush things. Mark needs to make friends. He's in a place he can. You need to figure out who you are when you aren't spending most of your free time figuring things out for the Dreamwardens." "I know who I am," she said.  Her dad stood up. "Really? You had your childhood taken from you. You never let yourself be a teenager. Now, you don't want to allow yourself the chance to be a young adult off on her own for the first time. We are proud of all your achievements, but sometimes you let them be all that defines you. The only other thing that you let define you than your genius is how people make you feel about being not as human as them in their eyes. There needs to be more to you, and you need time to find that. Mark needs you to find that because chances are he isn't anywhere near as smart as you, and he will see how you react to the world and internalize that, and your reaction to the world is to only show pride in your smarts, something he'll never be able to match. He needs to see more than those things." She gripped her dresser tightly and kept her eyes locked on her hands.  "Thank you for helping me with my apartment, but I think you need to go home for the day before I say something I regret," she said in a low voice.  He let out a long breath and stiffly nodded twice. "Alright. I'll give you space. I only say these things because I want what is best for both of you." "Go," she repeated. He sighed and walked out of the room. "Dusk, come along. We're headed home." "It's okay, bro. Go ahead and go," she heard Robby say.  She listened as her dad and Dusk left. She had hoped Robby and Nightscape would have left with the other two, but she should have expected Robby to stay. Robby walked into the room. "You know, you really should get a bigger bed. A single is too small." She wiped her nose with her forearm. "I don't need a bigger bed. I curl up when I sleep, so my feet never hang off." "Yes, but it is also too small for you to share, should the need arise," he said.  She turned and looked at him. "Are you going to start, too? That's something Mom would say, or apparently Dad." "Or Yinyu," Robby helpfully added, sitting down. "I'm not pushing you to do anything like Mom tries to push you, and I think you are being too harsh to Dad. However, I did want to point out that you saying you don't need a bigger bed seems like a concession that you won't ever need one. Most people going to live on their own make sure they have a bed that can fit two, even if they don't have any immediate plans for it." She crossed her arms. "And if I am conceeding?" "Well, for starters, I think giving up is kinda cowardly. Surprising for the filly that led her friends to safety when the people who were supposed to protect them had fallen, and who also decided to go skydiving off a skytree to save her best friend." She glared at her brother. "Shaming me isn't going to make me consider it any more." He nodded. "Yes, you're too stubborn for that, plowhorse. You're also too stubborn to admit that Dad might be right or too afraid to admit it." "Me getting laid doesn't help me adopt Mark. I know what I want, and adopting Mark is what I want," she practically growled.  "No, it's not," Robby countered.  "You are treading on dangerous grounds, bro," she warned.  He smiled at her. "You aren't going to send me away like Dad." "Why won't I?" "Because then you lose out on your chance to prove me wrong, and proving you're right is part of your stubborn streak." "And you're going to prove me wrong?" she asked.  "I'll present enough evidence to make you question the viability of your hypothesis. After that, I'll let you prove yourself wrong," he said, grinning.  She grimaced. "Fine, what's your evidence?" He gestured with a wing towards the living room. "Let's take a walk and see your new neighborhood." She raised an eyebrow. "It's past noon, it is close to ninety degrees outside, and it's too bright for you to see." "Oh, dear, my sister can't handle ninety-degree weather for thirty minutes, and nobody invented sunglasses!" Robby exclaimed in mock shock.  She rolled her eyes. "Fine. You don't have to be an ass about it. No more than thirty minutes. I don't like being out in hot weather." She didn't like being out in general, but she could endure it if she could put this matter to rest by refuting whatever evidence her brother came up with.  She followed him to the living room, where Robby fished a pair of sunglasses from his wife's saddlebag. Nightscape complained that he shouldn't be going out late and urged him to make it quick so they could get back to the house to tuck their foals in, who were currently being watched by their grandmother. He assured her it wouldn't be long and staying up late one day wouldn't hurt the foals. Then she and Robby went out the front door.  "So, what's your evidence?" she asked after they were outside.  "Patience, Jessie. You are always in so much of a rush. Enjoy the remainder of Summer while it lasts. It's a nice day. You were an earth pony when you were a filly. You should be out enjoying nature. I want to see the park. Let's go there." She looked around. This apartment complex was practically an extension of the dorms. There were lots of people in their younger twenties about. There was a young woman at the mailboxes, picking up her mail. There was a group of guys hanging out just outside an apartment a short distance away, laughing with beers in hand. Another guy was getting out of his car, wearing a uniform for Starbucks, who must have been coming home from a shift. A pair of pegasi mares sat on a nearby building, chatting loudly. There were more that she could hear but not see. There were so many people, and if she could see them, they could see her.  "Just because I was an earth pony doesn't mean I'm in tune with nature," she grumbled, rubbing her arms.  "Jessie-" "I didn't say I wouldn't go with you. Let's get this over with," she snapped.  Robby started walking. "Come along then and watch those big feet of yours. I don't want to get stepped on because you aren't paying attention to where you're going." That made her grip her hands into fists. "Since when have I ever stepped on you?" "When was the last time we went on a walk together?"  She honestly couldn't remember. Had they ever gone on a walk together? Maybe when she was a filly, but she had no recollection of it. When was the last time she went out and took a walk with anyone? She didn't answer and instead came up beside him, trying to match his pace. That was difficult since she had longer legs, and it was easy to outrun him at an average walking speed. She wanted to move faster. The faster she moved, the faster she could escape their eyes.  "You're rubbing your arms a lot. Are you somehow cold?" Robby asked, sounding unconcerned. "Are you sick and have a fever?" She forced her arms down to her sides. "No, I'm fine." "Hmm," Robby hummed knowingly. She wished she could see his eyes.  A guy was standing outside his apartment watching them. She unconsciously quickened her pace.  "Jessie, no need to hurry," Robby said.  "There's people out here," she whispered, slowing down.  "Yes, the world is full of people, and they don't all hide away inside all the time," he chirped.  "They're looking at me," she whispered.  "And you're behaving like something's wrong. So they must be wondering what," Robby stated.  No, they were looking at the freak girl who had a tail and ponyears, and her brother knew it. Why was he doing this to her?  Thankfully, the park was just across the street from the apartment complex, so it wasn't a long walk to get there. The park encompassed a rectangular city block. There were no woods to it, though there were some larger bushes and well-trimmed trees. The first part of the park had a small playground that had several younger kids, both ponies and humans, playing as their parents watched them. As they walked by the playground, she put Robby between her and the playground as if his pony body could somehow shield her from view, silly as that was. She listened to the kids' laughter, and her ears flattened.  "Something wrong with your ears?" Robby asked.  She tried to force them back up, but that was harder than putting her arms at her sides.  "They're fine," she muttered.  "Just checking," Robby replied.  They passed the playground. Some girls were sitting on a blanket, textbooks out. One was paying more attention to her phone than whatever she was supposed to be studying. As they passed them, she heard laughter, and her ears flattened again. She wanted to look back at them to see if they were looking at her. She could have reached her powers out to hear what they were saying, but she blocked the sound out.  "Maybe you have ear mites," Robby said. "Lots of ponies have that problem. There's over-the-counter medicines for it." She balled her hands into fists again. "I don't have mites, and you know it. Don't make fun of me like that." A jogger went by them, and she shuffled over, brushing up against her brother.  "What did I tell you about stepping on me?" Robby protested as he stepped away.  She stepped back. "Aren't we supposed to be talking, and you present me with evidence?" Robby stopped. "You've been saying quite a lot, even if it isn't with words, and I've been listening to you. Have you been paying attention to what you're saying?" "What the heck are you talking about?!" she snapped. "The only things I've been saying is telling you that I don't have a fever, I don't have mites, and nothing is wrong with me." "That's not what I'm hearing," Robby replied, sounding sad. "I'm hearing you are scared of your neighbors, that you are afraid of some girls studying in the park, that you are afraid of someone picking up their mail, that you are afraid of children playing. I see it, your neighbors see it, and if you adopt Mark, he'll see it. You might tell him he doesn't have to be afraid, but if your actions say you are afraid, that's what he will listen to. That is what he's going to learn to be." She looked around. How many of these people were looking at her and trying to hide it? What were they thinking? "Can we head back to the apartment now?" she asked, trying to keep the fret from her voice.  "Yeah, I think I made my point. I'm sorry for putting you through it, but I wasn't going to make you realize the truth with words." She closed her eyes. "To the apartment, now." "Okay, Jessie."