Much have I seen and known - Ten Inch Hero fic - PG, gen

[tigriswolf]

Title: Much have I seen and known

Fandom: Ten Inch Hero

Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun. Title from Tennyson.

Warnings: spoilers for film; maybe slight AU?

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 1050

Point of view: third

 

 

She remembers him. She remembers the scared little boy who hobbled into her shop five years ago, broken in more ways than one. It was ninety-five degrees outside and he wore a threadbare suit under a heavy overcoat. The sun baked the street and he shivered, teeth chattering as he asked if she had a bathroom he could use. His right arm hung at an awkward angle, he couldn’t put much weight on his right foot, and both eyes were red and rimmed with bruises. He shied away when she came close.

 

“Of course,” she told him. “Follow the path—you can’t miss it.”

 

While he hid in the restroom, she swiftly ran across the street and bought a three-meat sub from the shop that had just opened. She considered for minute before buying a bottled-water and lemonade, too. Beneath the too-large coat, the boy was far too thin.

 

She got back to her store in time to see him sink to the ground, barely out of the bathroom. He stared up at her with weary, wary eyes. “I’ll just sit here for minute,” he mumbled. “Then, I swear I’ll leave.”

 

She knelt in the front of him, far enough away so that he didn’t feel trapped, a wall at his back and her blocking the way to freedom. “I am Zoheret,” she said. “I bought too much food for lunch. Would you help me so that nothing goes to waste?”

 

He chuckled, head drooping. “I don’t want pity,” he said so softly she could barely hear him.

 

She held out the sandwich, half unwrapped. “It’s not pity.” She waited until he met her gaze. “You would be doing me a favor.”

 

His hand trembled as he took the sandwich and she rose to her feet, went back to rearranging her shelves while he ate. She left the two bottles within his reach.

 

He joined her at the front nearly an hour later. He’d eaten only a fourth of the sub, but all the lemonade and most of the water was gone.

 

“I’m Bo,” he said. “Thank you.”

 

She smiled at him. “I have a guest-room, Bo. It’s all made up; I knew someone would come.”

 

He looked down. “I don’t—I can’t—”

 

“Listen,” she said gently. “I expect nothing from you except that you heal. One of my friends is a retired doctor. Will you let him look you over? That is the only payment I’ll ask of you.”

 

Bo’s eyes were huge when he looked at her again. “Why?”

 

She would have patted his unhurt arm if she weren’t sure it’d make him flee. Instead she held out a hand and he put the sandwich in it. “Follow me,” she said.

 

He did.

 

o0o

 

Over the next few years, Bo grew his hair out and dyed it a dozen different colors. He lived in her guest-room and worked in her shop. He got tattoos and piercings and she never asked who he was rebelling against or why he flinched away sometimes. He healed and moved on; when he moved out into an apartment, she gave him her old car.

 

“Why?” he asked, his refrain at her undemanding kindness.

 

She smiled. “You need transportation,” she said. “I’ll be fine, Bo.”

 

o0o

 

They went to the sandwich shop across the way for most of their lunches; the owner, Trucker, did not recognize her, but she had always known they’d meet again. It was one of the reasons she’d chosen Santa Cruz.

 

Bo steadily grew more confident, each piercing and tattoo and hair color and sloganed T-shirt another jab at whatever he’d escaped to come to Santa Cruz. She gently encouraged his interests and smiled when he bloomed.

 

“You know,” she told him one night at their weekly supper, “The Beach City Grill needs you.”

 

He stared at her. “You, you’re kickin’ me out?” he asked, and she saw the broken boy of that first day.

 

“No, no,” she assured him. “But you are needed there. You’ll always have a place with me, but your journey continues on.”

 

“I—are you sure?” His hands tightened on the silverware clutched in his grip. “I mean, I can’t leave the shop, right? You’ll be alone.”

 

She patted his hand. “Trust me, Bo.”

 

He met her gaze, his eyes ringed with make-up instead of bruises. His hair was in purple spikes and his shirt read Kiss me, I’m pretty. “You can stay if you wish,” she told him. “But you would do well there.”

 

He inhaled deeply. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll apply.”

 

o0o

 

They went together on Monday. She chose a table while he waited at the counter. The sweet girl, Jen, smiled at him. “Can I help you?” she asked.

 

“I—I’m here to see about a job,” he said, faltering for a moment before pulling strength from his armor.

 

“Alright,” Jen said. “I’ll get Trucker.”

 

As she headed for the back, Bo turned to face Zoheret. She nodded, sending him well-wishes. You will do wonderfully, my dear Boaz, she thought.

 

“So, a new worker-bee,” Trucker boomed, striding in. Bo flinched minutely. “Why do you wanna work here?”

 

Bo took a deep breath. “I’m trying to broaden my horizons,” he said.

 

Trucker laughed. “Just a couple’a questions.” He waited for Bo’s nod. “Okay, first—name?”

 

Bo paused. Zoheret smiled when he said, “Priestly.”

 

o0o

 

She remembers him well, that boy who barely made it into her shop. She watched him put on his armor piece by piece and leave Boaz behind to become Priestly, loud and strong Priestly.

 

At her wedding, she sees that Boaz and Priestly are both at peace within him. He is finally content, sarcastic and sweet, healed and whole. Whether he and Tish will last, Zoheret does not know, but her boy is happy.

 

And Trucker is radiant. After years, finally he is happy, too. She will spend the rest of her life causing him to smile and delighting in his pleasure.

 

Zoheret smiles at Priestly and blows Boaz a kiss. Five years ago, he limped into her life, bruised and beaten, almost broken. But he is strong now, her shy stray, her foundling, her sweet boy.

 

She has a husband and a son. Zoheret is so very happy, and Trucker pulls her into his arms.

Comments

[caffienekitty]

Oh yes! Absolutely!

[tigriswolf]

Thank you!