"Are you sure about this?" Starbuck hissed, stopping Apollo as he was about to open the front door.

"Of course I'm sure about this, nitwit! Otherwise I wouldn't have invited you. Relax, you'll love it here."

"But-"

Apollo ignored the frantic protest and opened the door. "Hey Mom, I'm home!" he yelled, then started into the house in search of his mother. Starbuck followed reluctantly.

"In here!" Ila called from the kitchen. Apollo went towards the sound of her voice, the uneasy Starbuck still on his heels.

Apollo entered the kitchen, to find his mother pouring herself a glass of lemonade. "Mom, there's someone I'd like you to meet..."

"Apollo! Why didn't you tell me you were bringing a guest?" His mother tried to get a good look at the newcomer.

"I thought you knew I'd be bringing my friend along." Apollo hauled Starbuck the rest of the way into the kitchen. "You know, the friend I've been spending so much time with? Remember, Dad reamed me about spending all those credits when I was supposed to be in school..."

"Language, Apollo," Ila corrected absently. Her lovely but sharp eyes took in every detail of the visitor- the gauntness, the dirt and ragged clothing, the marks of old bruises and faded scars... "And where are your manners? Does your friend have a name?"

Apollo flushed. "Sorry. Mother, this is Starbuck. Starbuck, this is my mother, Siress Ila."

"Welcome to our home, Starbuck." Ila smiled warmly. "And if you'll come with me, I'll show you to your room."

"My room?" Starbuck's eyes were wide as he stared around at the elegant home.

"His room!" Apollo protested. "I thought he could stay with me!"

Ila smiled. "I think not, my son, for I know you too well. If the two of you were to share a room, you would be up all night every night during this break of yours."

Apollo ducked his head and grinned. She was probably right.

"If you'll run along and get ready for dinner, Apollo," Ila said, then cast another speculative glance at Starbuck. "Hmm, you look to be about the same size as Apollo was last year. I think I still have some of his clothes that should fit you just fine..." Speaking softly and reassuringly, as though to a frightened pet, Ila swept Starbuck off into the depths of the house.

Apollo grinned and snickered. He'd known his mother wouldn't be able to resist Starbuck. Now his friend would be taken care of good and proper.

A distant yelling alerted him to the arrival of his brother, who ran full tilt into Apollo. Both boys went down in a heap, while Athena, who had been in close pursuit of Zac, dissolved into giggles.

"Serves you right, you beast!" She laughed again, then scampered off.

"What did you do to her now?" Apollo grumbled, as he picked himself up off the floor.

"Nothing!" Zac protested. "Well, mostly nothing," he amended hastily.

"Well? Out with it."

"It was great! You should have seen- I took her nylons and made strainers out of 'em- caught all sorts of crawlies in the pond."

"Nylons? Thenie wears nylons?" Apollo laughed.

"Yeah, Mom said she's a young lady now so she should look like one."

"Now that is funny..."

 


Starbuck followed Apollo's mother somewhat reluctantly. He had never been in a place so nice, and had never felt more grubby or out of place. Why had he agreed to come with Apollo, anyway? This wasn't his home, or his family- he didn't belong here, in these lovely, elegant surroundings. He resolved to never let Apollo see the carefully hidden sanctuary he called home. True, it was his, and it was better than the foster-home he'd been stuck in, but it was less than nothing compared to this.

Siress Ila took him to a room with a huge bed and a private sanitary unit. "This is where you can sleep," she said. "Perhaps you'd like to shower while I find something a bit less- drafty- for you to wear?"

Starbuck flushed a brilliant shade of scarlet. "It's- it's all I had..."

"Starbuck, dear," Ila said gently, "it's okay. Apollo mentioned that you live on your own before, which is quite an achievement. I know how life can be on the streets. So let me help you out a bit, and don't be ashamed because you have so little. You have your life, and your health, and now you have a family."

She left, leaving Starbuck staring in amazement after her.

Family.

She'd said he had a family now. Could that be? Could it really be possible that someone would accept him into their family, just because he was Apollo's friend? That was definitely too good to be true. But oh, what a dream...

Starbuck decided that he'd take Ila's advice and clean up. He made his way into the small sanitary unit and peeled out of his pathetic excuse for clothing. He dropped the rags on the floor with a grimace. Honestly, he wished he could get ahold of some new clothes, but it was all he could do to get enough food to stay alive. Clothing was pretty far down on his list of priorities.

He climbed into the shower stall and turned the water on hot. He hadn't had a chance to get really clean in yahrens, or so it seemed- not since he'd left that foster home, what was it now- two yahrens ago? Something like that, anyway. Long enough for him to forget how good it felt to get really clean, long enough to forget how to be happy- until the day a wide-eyed boy caught sight of Tarsis beating the pogees out of him and then helped him hide from the peacekeepers.

Once he finally felt clean again, Starbuck stepped out of the stall and jumped in surprise. His old clothes had vanished and new ones had taken their place. He ran a hand over the sturdy cotton trousers and the soft shirt, wishing he could keep them. So much nicer than his own rags...

Sure, and while you're at it, as well wish for a shower at home, and all the food you saw in that kitchen...

Shaking his head at his own folly, Starbuck dried off and dressed in the borrowed clothing. Ila had been right, everything fit quite nicely. He stared at the stranger in the mirror- wide, startled blue eyes, slicked back hair that was now obviously blonde, nice clothing- who was this person?

Starbuck's stomach rumbled and he grinned. Whoever he was, whatever he looked like, he was hungry, and Ila had mentioned dinner. He hung up his wet towel and retraced the route to the kitchen.

 

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