The high-pitched, almost bloodcurdling scream broke through the Magpie’s haze, his heavy eyelids quickly lifting and his senses immediately taking in his surroundings. It was the fifth time that day that he’d almost managed to fall asleep, but like the four times before it, he had been interrupted by the sounds or movements of a toddler.

This one was the worst. Squirrel’s head dropped to the kitchen island, no longer surprised but still plenty annoyed. Glancing their way, the Magpie saw something else on that pretty, porcelain face this time. A slightly lowered brow, a barely pouting lower lip – there was worry and a hint of sadness mixing with the frustration. Squirrel had never been a fan of children. They were needy, fragile creatures, not particularly useful, and always had a funny smell. But even his ‘children are just a hassle’ friend couldn’t help getting attached to this new girl.

With a slow shake of his head, the Magpie headed into the bedroom and sat gently on the edge of the bed.

“Ellie,” he whispered, leaning down just close enough for her to hear him over her own cries. Enough to hopefully break through whatever terrible thing was happening in her mind, but not enough to wake her.

Her eyelashes quivered and her eyes darted back and forth beneath her eyelids, but the piercing sounds faded to whimpers and her breathing began to steady. Gradually shifting himself onto the bed, the Magpie laid beside her and stroked her wavy hair. It was sweaty, her body reacting to the fear and panic from her nightmares, and his thick but nimble fingers moved through twists and knots as carefully as they could. Propping himself onto an elbow, already knowing this might take some time, he made soft, soothing sounds. Soft and soothing for him, anyway. None of this was familiar, or even comfortable. He knew parents did these kinds of things, made these kinds of sounds and gestures, but he’d never experienced them. Still, he couldn’t just leave her to scream, so here he was, doing something he hadn’t imagined possible before.

Thankfully, this nightmare left quickly, and the girl was sleeping peacefully once again. Just as gradually as before, the Magpie slid himself off the bed and stepped silently past the bedroom wall, joining Squirrel in the kitchen.

“Well, dad? Did you sing your daughter a little lullaby so she could sleep?” It was said as a joke, but their tone wasn’t playful and they continued to wear that worried expression from earlier. “Poor baby.” With a quick sigh, they stretched and turned to face him. “Guess this won’t be as easy as we hoped.”

Everything between the moment the Magpie entered that shithole apartment and now had been mostly a blur. It took Squirrel less than an hour to develop a plan, and in less than two days, the Magpie and River Waters had new identities as step-father and daughter, Sam and Ellie Miller. He had frowned at the mundane names, mainly because he didn’t like names in general. Names came with identities, which came with relationships. Both came with mess. Both were easily broken and lost. But real people had names, and his friend assured him these were the best options - the most common and least obvious based on birth years and birthplace. Squirrel was a genius, so he didn’t argue. It was just one more fake role to play, one more fake life to live.

An algorithm chose the best places to hide out and they settled on Mirror Falls, a tiny, tourist village in the northeast wilderness of Upstate New York. There was nothing special about it. A barely noticeable dot on a map covered with similar dots. It was small enough to be insignificant, but had enough seasonal long-term visitors that he wouldn’t stand out. Everyone needed an escape sometimes, and Mirror Falls became home to those people when the weather warmed. After some research and a few calls, Squirrel found a quaint bed and breakfast a few blocks from town willing to take tenants for an extended stay.

Simple. Or it should have been. The plan was clean and easy, organized and calculated to the smallest detail, but the two quickly learned that anything involving a traumatized three-year-old was far from clean or easy.

“Well, at least she seems to be recognizing her new name,” Squirrel interjected into the quiet, trying to find the positive in a sea of negatives.

“Though she didn’t seem to respond very often to her actual name.” Scratching at his scruff, he wondered what would cause that, then shook the thought. He was certain he didn’t want to know. “But she knows ‘Ellie’ has something to do with her.”

“Oh, it’s just so tragic!” his friend cried out, keeping their voice low so they didn’t wake the girl. “I’m not even sure we have as much trauma as that poor little thing in there. How is that possible?”

The Magpie gave Squirrel a quick shrug. “It’s probably easier to deal with trauma when you’re not three.”

Squirrel nodded at that, then sighed and returned their head on the island countertop. Before they could respond, their eyes widened and the normal sparkle returned. “Well, look who it is. Were your ears burning, my little Ellie mouse?”

Turning on his stool, the Magpie’s gaze met oversized, grey-blue eyes and a blank expression. Aside from her nightmares and occasional tantrums, everything defaulted to vacant and distant. Her favorite thing was to stare, and Squirrel had decided that behind the indifference was a curiosity they couldn’t see. A curiosity that was mostly reserved for the Magpie.

Squirrely giggled at the two, locked in a battle for most emotionless, then jumped off their stool, scurrying over to the girl.

“Ellie, sweetie,” they cooed, lifting her into their arms and carrying her to the Magpie’s side. “Do you love your dad that much, hmm?” Squirrel gave her a hard kiss to the cheek. “You precious little mouse.”

There was no response. There was never any response. Aside from the screams and whimpers, or the few frustrated grunts and huffs when no one understood her, she never made a noise or said a word. Not only did the two know nothing about children, they now had a child who couldn’t tell them what she needed or wanted.

Instead, Ellie’s arms reached out to the Magpie and Squirrel moved her close enough to circle his neck. It had been barely two days, but this was common enough that he took hold of her, automatically sitting her in the bend of his elbow and pulling her to his chest. For whatever reason, she loved the Magpie. She had from the moment she woke that first evening in the loft. She followed him everywhere, even refusing to sleep if he wasn’t by her side, and it put Squirrel into a perpetual state of grinning and giggling. No matter how traumatized or how difficult this toddler was otherwise, this was entertaining, and they teased the new father and daughter constantly. A tiny, doll-like girl and a massive, gangster-looking man – each quiet, straight-faced, and detached. The sight alone made them smile every time.

“And you didn’t want to be a father,” Squirrel joked through a light laugh, giving their friend a poke in the shoulder. “I always knew you were soft, but look at you. You’re a natural.”

As always, there was no reaction from either the girl or the man. Ellie’s head dropped against the Magpie’s broad shoulder and she let out the faintest breath. Without thinking, the Magpie laid a hand on her back and a giggle hit him from behind.