by J Rocci
dogs were going to destroy something.
"You asked for peanut butter and jelly. I made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich," Garrison says patiently. "What don't you like about it?"
"The bread's all wrong! And there's crusts." Gabriella looks like she's about to burst into tears.
"Ella, this is the same sandwich I made for you the other day, and you liked that one perfectly fine."
"I don't want the stupid sandwich! And my name's not Ella!" At that, she does burst into tears, face scrunched up. She runs from the kitchen, followed by the sound of her bedroom door slamming.
Garrison sighs and rubs a hand over his face. "That went well."
"They only get worse," Pierre mutters.
"God forbid."
Josh steps in close to touch Garrison's elbow. "I'll talk to her."
"Yeah," Garrisons says, sighing again. "Good cop to my bad cop?"
"I prefer we both be neutral cops?" Josh asks jokingly, enough to get a small grin out of Garrison. "Maybe I should bring her with me to pick up Mama."
"There are a lot of people in the house," Garrison admits ruefully. "Maybe a break from all of us would be good."
And Josh has to kiss him at that, just to drive off the tendrils of defeat in his eyes.
"My two introverts," Garrison murmurs for Josh's ears only.
"Bah, you two are like newlyweds," Pierre says, jokingly. "You make me wish my wife were awake."
Josh rolls his eyes and breaks away, bracing himself before he knocks on Gabriella's door.
"Go away!" She yells through the door.
Josh opens it a crack. "Not happening, kiddo."
She's curled up in the corner of her bed against the wall, hugging her stuffed hippopotamus to her chest. There's a sniffle or two, but she isn't crying anymore, and Josh figures part of it is embarrassment now.
"Hey," he says and comes in to sit on the foot of the bed. She gives him a half-hearted glare, but he can wait her out. They've noticed the pattern where she yells at Garrison the most and is quicker to fill Josh's silences.
It's kind of sad to think how much of his tactical training he applies to parenting...
"I'm not hungry," she finally says with a sniffle. She's trying the sad puppy dog eyes on him, and he has to admit that he's only partially immune. They're easier to resist when she's just been screaming at Garrison, though.
"You asked for a sandwich," he points out mildly.
"It didn't look right."
"So you said."
She bites her lower lip, squeezing her hippo tighter. "Mom used to make us PB&J's for breakfast on Christmas. For dinner, we'd get mac'n'cheese."
He'd thought it might be something like that. Her blow ups seem to revolve around them not being her birth parents, never mind that she and Henry have been in the system for a couple years, and she's seen a half-dozen counselors over it. Some things kids just don't forget or get over.
His heart aches for how lost and confused she looks, and he wants to hug her, but he's not sure how she'll react, so he settles for resting his hand on her ankle. Her bones are so tiny under his hand, easily dwarfed by him.
"Well, we can't be your mom for you," he says, treading lightly into land-mined territory. "But we can make new traditions with you and Henry. You're our family now, and we love you."
"You barely know me," she says mournfully. "You won't want me when you know me."
"That's not true at all, and you know it," he says gently, giving her ankle a little shake. "You've learned a lot about us this past year, yeah?"
Reluctantly, she nods her head.
"Well, we've been learning a lot about you, too. You're our girl, and we're not letting you go."
He lets her think on it. They'll have this conversation again, he's sure, but he's hoping that time and repetition will help her believe them.
After a long moment of silence, she asks softly, "Is he mad at me?"
"No, but he's upset that you yelled," he says honestly.
"I gotta apologize again, don't I?" she asks, her expression glum.
"It's the right thing to do when you yell at someone."
"All right." She screws up her face in determination, setting aside her hippo to crawl to the edge of the bed. Josh holds out a hand to help her down, and she stands straight, but still hesitates to go back out to the hallway.
"How'd you like to come with me to pick up your Nana?" Josh asks her quietly.
She takes a moment to consider, the sounds of the kids running in circles around the living room a pointed background noise.
"Okay," she responds, just as quiet. "But I haveta apologize first."
Josh nods and stands up, her cue to head out.
Garrison and Pierre are still in the kitchen, doing something mysterious to a turkey that will hopefully produce edible food, and Josh clears his throat from the doorway as Gabriella walks in.
When Garrison turns around, she takes a deep breath and says in a rush, "SorryIyelledthesandwichwasfineyoucancallmeElla."
Blinking, Garrison sets down the gizzards. "Thank you. I can pack the sandwich for the car trip if you're going to the airport with Josh?"
She nods quickly.
"All right. And we'd like to call you Ella, but we won't if you're not comfortable with it."
Wrinkling her nose, she says, "I don't mind. As long as you don't call me Gabby."
Garrison nods slowly. "I think we can handle that."
With another sharp nod, she launches herself at his leg, hugging it and giving him a quick kiss on his rib cage, since that's as far as she can reach, before running to the living room. Garrison watches her go with a bemused smile.
"I will never understand children," he drawls.
Josh shrugs. "I think the human brain can't anymore, once we reach a certain age."
Garrison looks at him with a grin. "Sounds like you found your Zen place, babe."
Josh just smiles when Pierre snorts at the both of them.
"Zen and SERE," Josh says flippantly, referring to survival, evasion, resistance and escape training.
Garrison laughs, loud and bright, and motions for him to get going with his elbow.
"We'll be back in a bit," Josh calls out. He looks in the living room, but Lily and Henry are now plunked in front of the TV with Jeremiah watching the Justice League cartoon while their grandparents snore on.