In the Blood

The first thing Phoenix does once the adoption papers are signed- once he's properly moved out, once he's gotten a new job, once he's gotten his life somewhat less off track- is take Trucy out shopping.

“You don’t need to, Daddy.” Trucy says with a grin, “Uncle Valant left me all my stuff! I already have three whole sets of clothes.”

(Phoenix pointedly refuses to think about how that man’s kindness extended to clothes, cards, dice, even a couple throwing knives Phoenix hurriedly “misplaced,” but not to the kid herself. )

“I can still afford a couple more shirts for you, you know. You’ll need them for school.” He squeezes her hand. “To celebrate my new job, alright?”

He has no idea what is socially appropriate for an 8 years-old girl to wear, so he just follows her as she wanders across the aisles. Trucy, he’d learned quickly, has a very good eye; she spots immediately the designs that catch her interest and skips over them fast. She’s focused on her task, crunching up her nose anytime she picks a shirt and examines it.

That’s good. If she’s so focused, she might not notice how some of the other customers are staring at him.

“I think I’ll take these.” She hands him a Jammin Ninja and a plain blue shirt, as well as matching gloves. ( She has good tastes, is his first thought, quickly followed by gloves are good. If she doesn’t leave fingerprints, she can’t be framed for murder too. ) “We should get something for you too while we’re at it, Daddy!”

That gets him chuckling. “Why, you don’t like how I’m dressed?” Sweatpants and black jacket, as nondescript as one can be. (He didn’t have the heart to bring out his blue suit again.)

“A proper entertainer needs to look his part.” She says in a lecturing tone. “You’re not nearly threatening enough for your new job. I’m talking leather! Spikes! Chains! Amp up your thug factor!”

“Do you want to make me into a biker?” He touches his chin thoughtfully. “What if I let my beard grow instead? That’d be cheaper.”

“Ooooh, you’re right. That’d work too!”

They keep up the light banter when Phoenix pays, and they keep it up all the way home, and by the time they cross the threshold of their home he’s ruffling her hair and laughing.

Which is why, when he goes to safely store her new clothes, Phoenix very much does not expect her to suddenly turn serious.

“Daddy.” Trucy is an adorable child. He loves her, truly. But sometimes… there’s something unsettling in the way she looks at him. As if she were peering into his soul through a magatama. “I got a gift for you, too. To celebrate your new job.”

Every alarm bells set off in his head. “Trucy.” He answers just as seriously. “Did you steal something again?”

(He never had any evidence against her. But when they were apartment hunting, he sometimes noticed that when they got back home, she had a few more knick-knacks to play with. Nothing one would miss. Nothing one would notice. But also, nothing he’d bought for sure.)

“No, no, nothing like that!” She raises her gloved hands for emphasis, showing off their emptiness, which means absolutely nothing coming from a magician, but Phoenix doesn’t have the time to press that point. “It’s something I used to do for my old daddy. He told me not to show it to anyone else… But it’s been a few weeks already, and you seem pretty okay as far as daddies go, so I think it should be fine if I showed it to you too!”

Oh… that’s reassuring, actually. She’s probably talking about a good luck forehead kiss or something. “Alright.” He crouches next to her. “What is it, then?”

She grins wide, beaming with pride. Hurriedly, she starts tugging at the hem of her left glove, pulling it off-

Phoenix’s blood runs cold.

“I think it could help you a lot for difficult games!” She still sounds so upbeat, so happy, still oblivious to the horror painted on Phoenix’s face. “Daddy said- Daddy?”

Ah- she’s looked up, at last. She’s staring at Phoenix with obvious confusion, her eyes scrutinizing him, trying to find what could possibly be upsetting him. “Daddy?”

Slowly, he takes Trucy’s hand in his own. It’s so thin, so fragile, in his big fingers. If he squeezes a bit too hard, he fears he might break one of her bones.

Her wrists are a mess of criss-crossed scars.

He can’t even count them. They’re all over, overlapping, slashes and cuts and-

“Trucy,” he runs his thumb over that patch of pale skin, and it’s so hard, it’s so hard to keep calm when all he wants to do is scream. “What happened to you?”

She flinches, attempting to take her hand back from him. “Why are you so angry?”

“You’re hurt. Why wouldn’t I be worried?” And what he means is how could I not be angry? (And what he doesn’t ask is: are you telling me Zak wasn’t? Wasn’t worried, wasn’t angry? )

Trucy stares at him, for a few seconds, with that uncomfortably piercing gaze of hers. “... You’re not lying.”

(Why does that surprise you?)

“Daddy said there was something in my blood.” She replies finally. “Something I inherited from Mommy and Granpappy. It helps me focus at times. He said it helped him focus, too, when he drank it.”

When he… drank it…

“He was always very careful when drawing it, though!” She must have sensed his unease, because she hurries to defend her father. “He never took too much. And he was always gentle when he patched me up. We used to go for slushies afterwards, too.”

Zak.

Enigmar.

“Is that… What you wanted to gift me?” He asks very, very carefully. “Your blood?”

Trucy gives him a small nod. “Did I… do something bad?”

Phoenix shakes his head, because she didn’t, and he hopes to any deity lurking in his office for her to know he’s not lying. “No. It was very thoughtful of you. I appreciate it.” 

Breathe in. Breathe out. Don’t freak out the kid. She’s innocent. She’s been innocent through this entire story. (She’s been used as a tool through this entire story.) “But if I need help, I’d rather bring you to play with me. We can make it some quality father-daughter bonding time, what do you say?”

She stares, again, and after a few seconds, she nods. “That sounds good!” Her tone is chipper, but she’s obviously still disturbed by his reaction.

“Alright then, that’s a deal!” Phoenix pulls her into a hug and kisses her temple, like the good father he’s supposed to be. And if his grip is a bit too tight, if his fingers dig a bit too much into her back, Trucy is polite enough not to comment on it.

(Zak Enigmar. Zak Enigmar. Zak Enigmar. Phoenix knows his name and knows his face. He doubts the man would care enough to honor his promise to Trucy. But should he ever come back…)

(Phoenix is not letting go of this kid. Ever.)