Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3337766.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F, F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Shingeki_no_Kyojin_|_Attack_on_Titan
  Relationship:
      Marco_Bott/Jean_Kirstein, Levi/Eren_Yeager, Reiner_Braun/Bertolt_Hoover,
      Krista_Lenz_|_Historia_Reiss/Ymir
  Character:
      Marco_Bott, Jean_Kirstein, Eren_Yeager, Mikasa_Ackerman, Armin_Arlert,
      Krista_Lenz_|_Historia_Reiss
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_College/University, Mental_Health_Issues, Mental
      Instability, Mental_Institutions, Foster_Care
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-02-12 Updated: 2015-02-15 Chapters: 2/? Words: 6283
****** I'll Show You Crazy ******
by Figureitoutbruh
Summary
     Young, enthusiastic Marco gets recruited to help with a ground
     breaking mental health program for students. He soon finds out it's
     not like he thought...and neither are the students. Lies, lust,
     mystery and forbidden fruit seemed determined to stretch everyone's
     sanity to a breaking point.
Notes
     Hey~
     Hope ya'll enjoy this. This is my major baby at the moment and will
     be lengthy as well as pretty brutal in the feels department. Please
     be aware everything from rape, war, abuse and self harm will be
     covered and that this could be triggering. That being said, lets get
     this show on the road!
     my_tumblr is always being updated and feel free to drop a line!
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Labs *****
Sometimes an opportunity comes a long that you would regret for the rest of
your life if you didn’t jump on it. No matter how insane or how illogical it
seems at the time. An urge to barge in head first, no second thoughts or
planning. The thought hits you and you realize the second you feel it flash
across your brain, it’s going to happen. Held captive by possibilities you just
try to hang on as the moment takes control. Just breathe and run with it,
letting life swallow you up like the eye of a storm.

Marco Bodt stood at the Shinaganshina Regional Research Laboratory. It was a
shabby looking building made of brick that nature had reclaimed with vines and
shrubs. Windows and harsh lines made it look like a square made of squares that
was some puzzle or trick a giant had dropped into a seemingly normal campus.
Three stories and intense looking, it screamed being alien to the campus. Rose
University built it in the forties as part of the nation’s rekindling love
affair with science, after the war the affair faded. The program died but the
building stood. Some classes were held in it for years until it slowly became
unused. The inside had been cleaned up; they did maintain that much of it well.
Marco had passed it for years. Now he was a graduate of the school, coming back
to perform his internship while getting taking classes to finish up his
masters.

The school had birthed a program that was groundbreaking. It would allow a
special dorm for students with mental, intellectual and behavioral issues to
attend under supervision and care of an award winning team of doctors and
counselors. Parolees, veterans, the mentally unstable and child geniuses were
all on the list to live in the newly approved dorm. The whole thing was headed
up by the St. Maria Mental Health Alliance. Marco felt a breeze blow and his
coat and hair swayed in the breeze along with limbs and leaves as if he was a
part of the landscape as well.

“I am in way over my head…” He said to himself hugging his messenger bag
closer. While he knew he had decent grades, normal interests and good social
skills it was obvious to him he was in no way ready to be in charge of the
insane, of criminals! Graduating top of his class, declaring his major in
clinical psychology and being from Rose made him catch the eye of Dr. Jaeger,
the dean of the school.

Three men had come up with the program. Dr. Jaeger wanted to have a pioneer
program that allowed students to get mental support, anxiety counseling and
generally just better emotional care. Marco understood that. Hell, college is
hard on everyone, right? Dr. Jaeger approached Dr. Erwin Smith, head of the St.
Maria Mental Health Alliance, who ran the St. Maria Hospital and the string of
Counseling Centers all through New England, not just the city of Sina. They
decided that they should not only provide service but also offer people who
normally wouldn’t be able to attend the university due to illness, learning
disabilities or other issues full scholarships. The doctors and therapists on
loan from St. Maria would be full and well put to use.

The first floor would be a lounge, counseling center and general place for any
student to get free mental and emotional support. The second would be the
common room of the dorms and office of the supervising doctors. The third would
be dorms. Marco’s job would be an intern.

And he had no idea what that meant.

Sure, as part of his major he was a certified counselor…because that would look
great on grad school applications. Along with the endless feeling list of
volunteer and nonprofit work he did to beef up his resume. It was a six month
night class that resulted in certification. He never thought he’d be offered a
job in an essential half way house for the unstable. When he was approached by
the dean, he couldn’t say no. This would make his resume shine and he could use
the dean as a personal reference. Not to mention he would make connections with
doctors and behaviorists. The reality hit him this morning in his briefing.

Dr. Zoe Hanji was the one Dr. Erwin Smith placed in charge. Her and another
doctor, one who taught Psychology on campus as well as two therapists would run
the operation. Professor and Doctor Levi Ackerman would be the one overseeing
academic success. Dr. Hanji would be the psychiatrist. She had personally
picked the students to attend due to some research on childhood violence
exposure she was conducting. She explained to him all of these people, from
different walks and backgrounds all had been exposed to violence and death
early on, leading to lives of crime and mental suffering. To be honest, her
enthusiasm freaked him out.

Counselors Mike and Petra would be on the same level as Marco. Counseling,
paperwork, walk ins and aid coordination were left to them. Of all of his new
coworkers Marco was the only student. He wasn’t getting paid but instead had
full scholarship and offered room and board in the facility. It was a deal
someone who racked up a ton of student debt couldn’t say no to.

When Dr. Hanji handed him keys and a case of files he felt the weight of the
world fall on him. He’d skimmed over her research into PTSD and trauma and she
really did break things down well and her treatment methods were seeing wild
success. She was the real deal. And she handed him personal files and keys. He
was a nobody, some kid who was barely above average at best and now he was a
leader to nine freshmen.

He walked up to the large wooden double doors and unlocked one, opening it as
it screeched in protest. The first floor had a small reception window and
office to the right. Bulletproof glass made it feel like he was about to buy a
movie ticket. Looking at the wall he saw a panel of switches. The lights came
on as he flicked them, making a small click and buzz as it illuminated the
first floor. There was a line of doors all along the right, the counseling
offices he assumed. The left was massive… no walls. It was like Walmart without
aisles. It was lined with book shelves and chairs a large couch and love seat
looked out of place. Simple enough, right? Harsh cold fluorescent light filled
the space. White walls, white light, white tile… yeah this place definitely
used to be a lab.

In the center was a spiral stair way that was made of jet black wrought iron.
Marco climbed it letting his hand rake across it. The second floor was a bit
different. It had a small reception desk. To the right was, once again,
offices. This time two. He assumed it was for Dr. Hanji and Dr. Ackerman. The
left held a single large room with three couches, bean bag chairs, four TVs and
every game system he could imagine along with a ping pong table and fridge. The
dorm lounge was actually painted a soft blue and had plush pale carpet. He
guessed the offices up here were pretty big. He decided to peek.

They were identical seeming so he chose the closest and was surprised to see a
very basic set up. Desk, two arm chairs and a bench. Book shelves behind the
desk. Filing cabinet to the side… nothing special. But a door on the far end
begged to be opened. Marco slid across the room, slightly nervous. It revealed
a twin bed, dresser and mirror. Also a small bathroom. Like a basic hotel room.

The doctors would live here? Marco knew he’d take up a dorm but Hanji and
Ackerman? For some reason this made his gut turn. Something was being hidden.

“We will be required to work in shifts and have a supervisor here at all times.
Do you think parents and probation officers would just let these kids live it
up in a frat house without an authority figure here?”

Marco turned to see the short, perpetually harsh gaze of Levi Ackerman. “I’m
sorry Dr. Ackerman I just-”

“Save it. I don’t care. You, Petra and Mike will need to know the details
anyway. Why not now?” Levi said as if he was bored. He walked across the room
with such confidence and authority Marco already knew why Hanji and Jaeger
chose him.

He was fucking intimidating.

Casually he sat down and slid his bag onto the floor. He was in a brown
cardigan with white straight leg khakis and tan leather doc martins. He had an
ivory scarf and hair that looked straightened. He was so immaculate. No wrinkle
or speck of dirt. It was unsettling to Marco who looked at himself in a Green
Lantern shirt and skinny jeans with a leather jacket and black and white
converse. Dirty shoes, wrinkled jeans and a cheap watch… Marco was painfully
reminded just what different levels they were on. Were expensive clothes and a
bored gaze his future?

“While we’re here.. Let’s go over the files. Hand them here Bodt.” Levi said
and leaned over holding his hand out expectantly. Marco blinked for a second
then remembered his bag. He opened it and pulled a chair up to the desk as he
handed them to Levi. Who flicked the large file open to reveal several folders?

“These three are veterans from the war. They were in the 104th. Their convoy
hit and IED and well, it was ugly.” Levi said shrugging. Maro looked to see
files of the three people, all with a hard gaze similar to Levi. “I served
under their Captain when I was in.” He said blandly. Marco’s gaze widened. Dr.
Ackerman was in the army? “Reiner Braun. He was part of the muscle of the team.
an MP escorting them.” Marco watched as Levi’s finger grazed a picture of a
harsh looking man who was muscular, blonde and wide. “Annie Leonhart. She was
on the way to diffuse a known IED. Third generation Army. She lost her left
leg.” Now Marco was looking at a very sad seeming blonde woman with a long nose
and bright blue eyes. Finally he looked to see a picture of a dark haired girl
with freckles and a look that was pure venomous sarcasm. “Ymir Smith.
Translator. She speaks six languages but never went to a formal school. Home
schooled, then enlisted… Social issues and write ups doomed her before the IED.
She wouldn’t have lasted because of her smart mouth.” Levi sighed. Marco
empathized. Just these three alone would doubtlessly have PTSD, adjustment
disorders, anxiety… This was already looking like a challenge. “All have what’s
to be expected. Assimilation issues, PTSD, night terrors…”

“Now we have the child genius Armin Artlet. He’s sixteen and he’s already
graduated from Sina high. IQ and test scores are abnormal. Armin has an eidetic
memory, anything he sees in writing he can recall perfectly. We’re anticipating
social issues, adjustment problems and general difficulty so he should need
support.” Levi said pointing to a picture of a small boy with a mess of long
blonde hair. Marco frowned. He looked 12.

“But isn’t it a bad idea to put him with such volatile personalities?” Marco
asked and Levi raised an eyebrow.

“Hmm… seems it is. But Hanji wants him.” Levi said like that was reason enough.
Marco’s face obviously showed his doubt. Levi leaned across the table and
glared. “Say and do what you want but Hanji is smarter than you or me.” Levi’s
voice was soft and calm but his eyes shined and set hard on Marco. “I trust
her. Infinitely.”. The message was clear, criticism of Hanji or the program was
out of the question. Marco nodded noting to shut his mouth.

“Now it’s on to the foster kids.” Levi said pulling another group of files.
“Bertholdt Hoover. Pulled from the house of a murder suicide six days after his
father killed his mother, then himself. He hasn’t spoken in thirteen years.
Testing is good; he flourishes through school and is an excellent writer.” Levi
slid a file and an average looking boy with brown hair and a soft gaze looked
back. Marco nodded.

“Christa Lenz. Sexually abused by her mother‘s boyfriend. Her mother refused to
care for her and surrendered her at thirteen. She was pregnant when they took
her...” Marco heard sickness creep into Levi’s voice. “Poor girl…” Levi slid
the single file over as if it sickened him. Marco saw why. She was the picture
of innocence. Long blonde hair with huge green eyes and the kindest smile. “She
actually carried the baby to term and put it up for adoption?!” Marco said
looking at her file. Levi nodded. “She’s a bit of an angel it seems.” He said
softly.

Marco’s gut sank. Lost limbs. Murder. Rape. These were kids, all 20 and under.
Marco couldn’t imagine going through any of this. He was suddenly very grateful
for his family and had the urge to call his parents and thank them.

Levi slid him the rest of the stack, encouraging Maro’s curiosity. He took the
stack and turned the file over and stopped cold at the mug shot staring him
down.

A tall boy with a punkish haircut. Brown hair was disheveled and buzzed shorter
on the bottom, giving his undercut a two tone effect were the top was lighter.
He had a gaze like a wounded, cornered animal. He had a hoop in his nose. Marco
had always been easily scared away from everything not normal. He was utterly
normal and tried very hard to stay that way. But everything about this boy, his
look, his posture… it stood out to him like a flash of lightening. It was like
he’d seen the flash and was waiting to hear the thunder.

“Jean Kirchstein. Absent mother, abusive father. Long, long record. While
expelled from three schools he has maintained passable grades. Diagnosed with
anxiety, depression, obsessive defiance disorder and adjustment disorder.
Recently diagnosed dyslexic.” The words dripped from Marco’s lips. So Jean
wasn’t absurdly different from the rest.

But he wasn’t blown up in another country. Jean hadn’t been raped. This boy
hadn’t watched his parents bodies rot in silence… he wasn’t the worst. Why was
he sticking out? Marco slid the file away quickly. His stomach felt like it was
free falling.

“Now the kids on probation.” Levi said with contempt. Marco was most nervous
about this group. There was three files slid over. On top was a girl,
surprisingly. Marco knew full well that ladies could commit crime but the girl
looking at him seemed anything but criminal. Auburn hair in a high pony tail
and a contagious smile looked at him. “Sasha Blouse. Kleptomaniac convicted of
over $800,000 in damages and theft. Did you hear about the Tasty Cake truck
getting stolen last year?” Levi asked and Marco nodded. It was the laughing
stock of the news. “That was her.” Levi said and shook his head. “Also a noted
she’s bulimic and suffers from severe ADHD.”

“Connie Springer.” Marco read as he shifted files. This boy was tan with a buzz
cut and basketball jersey He read ahead, getting the sense Levi had a special
distain for this group. “Hacker, involved in identity theft and cybercrime. Has
OCD and panic attacks…” Marco was surprised how normal these two looked, in
contrast to how abnormal their actions had been.

“Thomas Wagner. Drug addict mother, absent father. He’s got three assault
charges and has failed every drug test given.” Now a blonde spikey haired kid
was looking at Marco with arms folded. He reeked of trouble. He had cold eyes
and a devilish grin to suit his eyebrow ring and tattoos.

“There is two more.” Levi said reaching in his own bag. Marco looked confused
at the table. No, these were all the files he had. “I will be up front. These
are the reason we are here. These special cases are the motivation behind Dr.
Jaeger’s sudden interest in mental health.” His voice was a bit jaded.

“Mikasa Ackerman, no relation.” Levi added quickly. “Human trafficking victim.
Dr. Jaeger’s son found her in an abandoned house being raped by three men.
Mikasa was twelve. Jaeger’s boy was eleven. The three men were found dead with
over two hundred stab wounds combined.”

Marco’s jaw dropped. This was Jaeger’s secret?! “Holy shit…” He said looking at
the small Asian girl in a white dress and red scarf. She looked harmless. Her
bland expression seemed more shy than lethal.

“Dr. Jaeger adopted her. Her and his son have been inseparable since. It’s a
strange codependence that Hanji is eager to delve into.” Levi suddenly
stiffened and looked intense. “Then there’s the reason I am here. Have you read
my works?” He asked and Marco jumped a bit.

“No, sir.. I have only skimmed Dr. Hanjis.” Marco said looking down at his
hands, suddenly worries he had been slacking.

“Me and Dr. Erwin pioneered treatment for schizophrenia. Tricky little fucker,
different for each case. I worked for St. Maria before taking the gig here
teaching. Dr. Jaeger’s son, Eren Jaeger, is convinced he has prophetic dreams
and can stop a coming apocalypse.” Marco narrowed his eyes.

It clicked. Everyone had a reason. Levi was here for Jaeger. Hanji was here to
assist but picked cases, all local to the state, that interested her. Violence,
stress… all but one of these students were reacting to a cruel world. They were
here to study and guide reactions. Armin was here to be ensured success because
he would boost the overall stats of the school let alone the program. This was
personal service for the privilege of Dr. Jaeger’s children while indulging the
research of an old colleague. Long term success didn’t matter. This was a giant
guinea pig cage.

It was still a lab. This was an experiment. A sham.

Marco stood, fists clenched. This program would fail. Why put a criminal next
to victim and say ‘Get along?!’ A patriot next to a hooligan. These
personalities would clash. The conditions conflicted. Some were violent, like
Ymir, Thomas and Jean. Others like Bertoldht, Christa and Armin were fragile.
Some people would get trampled and set back in treatment, all for personal
agendas.

“I see it clicking, Hansel… you found my bread trail.” Levi smirked, crossing
his arms. “Feel free to leave and turn down your scholarship. Turn down the
privilege to work with three nationally renowned doctors. No one will think
less of you.” He looked utterly un-invested in his words. Like they were a
hollow promise. Lip service if he ever saw it.

“Are you reminding me of what I’d be losing? Because I am fully aware of that.”
Marco said folding his arms. What about Connie, Annie, Sasha, Bertholdt,
Christa, Reiner… Jean. He’d never met these people but he knew they needed
treatment. This could be their fresh start. Their hope rested in who?

“You’re the one who would live among them and ensure support. You’d be a
counselor and friend. The middle man to the two therapists and myself.
Basically, you’re the decoy. They assimilate to you and open up to you as one
their peers. Your here to be a comfort. An insider ear. It’s been noted you
have excellent academic integrity. Your volunteer record is impressive. Will
you be the quintessential friend and bleeding heart?” Levi laced his fingers
and set his chin on them.

Marco was floored yet again. This was a tangled mess. Jaeger wanted the program
for his kids. Hanji wanted it for research. It hit him Levi had researched him.
Levi selected him! Levi was fighting the odds to get the program to function as
intended. Marco was Levi’s ace in the hole to make these kids feel like they
were getting help. The first key to treatment is wanting help and recognizing
there is a problem. That’s why Levi had handpicked the counselors. They would
be the hands on, day in and day out elbow grease of the machine. They would be
pushing these kids to take that first step. As much as he seemed like a tiny
little cold hearted bastard he had no real reason to be here. One patient
hardly justified all the time this project would consume… Levi cared about
these kids. He just had a hard time showing it.

Marco looked up at Levi and felt the eye of that storm he sensed outside
closing in. He knew his answer. He couldn’t walk away. Marco was going to do
this. His mind was made up as recalled the faces of these people. Of one in
particular….

“When can I move in?” He said, eyes seeping determination.

“Well Bodt, you have a key. Don’t come running to me to make choices for you.
I’m not holding your hand. Classes start in a week.” Levi said as he waved his
hand dismissively. Marco was half offended but he could have sworn he saw the
hint of a grin on the harsh professor’s face.

***** Snares *****
Chapter Summary
     Jeans POV. The foster kids check in.
Chapter Notes
     Hey guys!
     Just to say, thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy it as
     much as I enjoyed writing it.
When you’re a foster kid you get used to three things:

One; People throwing you away. Everyone treats you with this pity, like a
charity case. Case workers, foster parents, therapists and doctors are always
nice at first. Flip out, be difficult or open up in a way that doesn’t give
them exactly what they want and they shuffle you on to the next one. People
aren’t kind because they want to be, or even because they know you need it.
Kindness and charity are self-service to make people feel less shitty about
being utterly shitty.

Two; Duffle bags. Seriously what was this, the fifteenth time he had moved with
nothing but the clothes on his back and a bag of clothes? No boxes, moving
lists or labels. It’s just the essentials. Able to be moved along to the next
home or bus or even hotel until someone is willing to get a big fat check each
month for taking in some brat. The black checkered duffle bag had been through
a lot with him. It’s stuck through parents, hospitals and even some lovers. It
didn’t even hurt him anymore, taking clothes out of drawers and erasing himself
from a room. The first few times were killer. You want somewhere to be home. To
lay those roots. Jean looked over to the boy beside him. Bert. Silent guy,
obviously seen some shit. They were foster brothers are the last house, allowed
to stay even though they turned 18. So he got to take a piece of that home with
him this time. That was nice and scary at the same time.

Three; Van rides. Those obvious rental or company vans that are way to clean
and smell like carpet shampoo were the ones they used. Bert sat next to him,
looking out of the window. Behind him was a small blonde girl. He’d see her
around. By around he meant at the offices and group counseling. Jean returned
his gaze out of his own window. He was nervous, and it felt like small fish
swimming in his gut. This broke routine. They weren’t going to some orphanage
to wait on a list. No home of empty nesters whose kids had moved out and
decided to take them on like a hobby. No crazy religious couples who expected
them to mingle with their own horde of kids. No over emotional young couples
who can’t have kids so they give foster parenting a chance. This was college.
School. It was independence. This van ride technically was like all the others,
but the destination made them all nervous.

Bert nudged him and pulled his small notebook out of his pocket and wrote
quickly. Jean peeked over his shoulder. It was a caricature of Bert doing a keg
stand and Jean trying to hold his feet but being too short, Bert was 6’4 after
all. Written above it was “College Bro”. Jean chuckled and took the pen,
crudely drawing a girl at his crotch blowing him while he was upside down.
Bert’s face blanching and a dramatic nearly silent laugh snort hybrid was the
reward. Jean smirked and looked over at him.

He could pin point the moment they became friends. Honestly Bert freaked him
out. He was tall and silent and got super sweaty when he got nervous. It
reminded him of that big zombie guy from some old TV show, Lurch? Yeah that was
his name. Jean was not happy about Hanes and Carla, his last foster family,
taking on another kid. It was kind of nice being alone for once. So there was
this instant resentment. It wasn’t fair really. But on the third night Bert
tapped Hanes on the shoulder and pointed to the drum kit in the garage. He
wanted to learn how to play. Jean of course, didn’t want to be left out so when
Hanes offered to teach, he asked about guitar. Hanes was a music dude who made
sample tracks for song writers. It was kind of lame; he wasn’t a rock star or
anything. But three years later they were playing their own songs. It was their
thing. Jean had a thing all of the sudden. Something he was good at. A way to
let it out. Writing songs and handing them over to Bert was so scary. He’d
learned long ago people didn’t like to hear how he felt. One day in their room
Bert walked in on Jean playing an old acoustic and singing lowly about feeling
like a stray dog.

Bert sat on the dresser and nodded for him to keep going. Soon a rhythm was
getting thumped out on the dresser. Claps were thrown in. Jean remembered
playing and singing and looking over to see Bert nodding his head and biting
his lip. He was teary eyed. He felt it too. Bert understood more than he let
on. Maybe it’s because he couldn’t talk, he couldn’t judge. Jean didn’t know
exactly how Bert’s mind worked but he liked it. That night full of stomping,
clapping and folky lyrics about life made them click together.

He would hand him songs, chorus’s and such and next thing he knew Bert was
showing him books on rhyme and poetry, editing and underlining to make things
deeper and add a layer of sophistication to the stereotypical teenage bullshit
that made Jean give him golf claps. Jean stuck to guitar but Bert learned
drums, piano, bass, brass and even some violin. That is how Bert speaks, you
know? Music and facial expressions. By this point Jean could hold a
conversation with him effortlessly. It was like speaking a language of inside
jokes. Speaking of which, a rattled sigh escaped from Bert’s chest and Jean
nodded in agreement.

“Just focus on the fact we are officially out of the foster system.” Jean said
and Bert nodded thankfully. That’s when the blonde piped up.

“Excuse me but, were all going to Rose University, correct?” She asked and both
boys turned to face the back seat.

“Yeah for the St. Maria’s Pilot Program?” Jean added slightly confused. The
girl looked at him with a blank face, blinking.

“Our care is being signed over to them. Its conditional, like we have to follow
rules and keep grades and therapy appointments.” She said softly as if she was
scared to anger him. Jean felt his face screw up as he frowned. He unzipped his
bag and pulled out the folder with the school’s emblem on it. She was right. So
this wasn’t just a foster kid thing. Honestly Jean had heard college and full
scholarship and signed his name. He looked to Bert.

“Did you know this?” Jean asked and Bert nodded with a look that said  “Yeah,
you’re the one that handed me the forms, don’t you remember? ” Jean groaned as
he threw his head back. He thought he was crossing the finish line. Bert
quickly wrote ‘Free ride. You got this. At least its more freedom than we have
ever had.’ To their surprise the blonde was peeking over and reading the note.

“Oh! So you don’t talk, right?” She asked and Jean felt his mouth go dry. It
was a capital offense to be cruel to Bert. “That’s okay, some days I don’t feel
like talking either. At least your probably a good listener.” She said and
smiled warmly as she extended her hand. “I’m Christa.” Jean’s mouth almost fell
open as her smile beamed her large blue eyes smiled with them giving her eye
crinkles that girls would kill for. Jean looked surprised when Bert shook her
hand, smiling his self.

Jean mimicked it, actually feeling like he could get along with Christa. “I’m
Jean, this is Bert.” What else was there to say? Well really there was plenty.
Foster kid talk usually asked were your parents dead or just dead beats? How
long have you been in the system? How many parents? But honestly, no one found
that shit pleasant. It was usually nervous talkers or super lonely kids who
still felt the need to attempt at making friends who ran their mouth like that.

“I’m really glad I’m not the only one going. It won’t be as terrible walking in
with a group don’t you think?” Christa said and laid her chin on the back of
their seat. Jean thought of a puppy. Like a cute little golden retriever that
did all of that cutesy stuff you normally think would annoy you but for some
reason you look in those big eyes and let it slide because they melt your
heart.

‘Maybe the three of us can stick together through this orientation?’ Bert wrote
and looked to  “Jean. Come one man, we can’t leave her out. “  Jean’s nostrils
flared. Who knew Bert was such a bleeding fucking heart? She’s been alone this
long! Jean wasn’t signing up for big brother or caretaker of anyone else. Bert
didn’t get that when you became friends with someone, there were rules and
conditions and obligations. Being tied to one other person was enough, thank
you. An elbow to the ribs and a well-placed eyebrow jerk read  “Just look at
her. What’s the worst that can happen?”  Jeans eyelids fluttered closed slowly.
Each inch a bit of surrender to the silent tower and puppy girl.

Jean knew college was important. He himself had racked up a record of assault,
disorderly conduct and had been told he had a learning disability. So finding a
school to take him would have been rough. Bert had no chance. He was sure
Christa had some baggage too. This could be their one shot at university. The
singular chance to lay a foundation for a life better than the one they have
seen this far. This opportunity was all they had at the moment. Jean looked out
the window and saw the landscaped lawns and shopping centers roll by. Maybe
someone was finally willing to take a chance on them? They were by no means a
safe bet. But Jean was willing to bet on the fact that he would try his hardest
here. No more childish shit. He had to buckle down. To make this work. He knew
the risk. When he turned eighteen Hanes and Carla stopped getting checks. Most
get turned out. Sure, you can get special grants and scholarships if you’re a
normal foster kid with no record, learning disability or mental disorder. But
let’s be real here… most of us kids are fucked up.

Before he knew it and maybe before he was truly ready he was exiting the van
with his fellow wards of the state. The building in front of him looked cold
and just flat out unwelcoming. He sighed slinging on his back pack as he
shuffled in leading his pack. Jean had been accused of many things but none of
which had been being a good leader. He peered in and felt flashes of jails and
psych wards hit him. The glass encased check in counter was a dead giveaway
this wouldn’t be his thing. Then there were the white walls, white floors and
sea of fold out chairs arranged in the standard group therapy layout. Jean shot
a gaze to Bert who was already sweating. Eyes grazed along his peripherals to
see Christa bravely looking ahead front and center.

There was group of adults standing there, pamphlets and packets in hand. Jean
caught his self-cursing life. He really fucking hated packets. Scanning the
group right to left he saw a bearded blonde guy with a sucker in his mouth who
had a look of seriously not wanting to be here. Then there was a short guy who
had the expression like he had just smelled dog shit, he had his arms folded as
if he was bored. Beside him was an overly sweet looking girl who smiled at him
warmly as they made eye contacted. Jean mentally gagged as he rolled his eyes.
Next to her was a tall slender woman with glasses who was looking at him so
hard he felt violated. On the end was… whoa. Jean felt his eyebrows knit
together from either surprise or interest, either way his mind was trying to
wrap around the guy. He was younger than the rest, by a lot. He had freckles
and a wide face but his round eyes made him seem like he was a big softie. The
idiot was wearing a bowtie over his button down shirt. It would have looked
totally dweebly if it wasn’t for the face he had wide shoulders and a deep
chest.

The red head spoke up, stepping out and signaling to the chairs. “If you’ll
have a seat, we will start orientation soon.” Jean looked to Bert who raised an
eyebrow. “Can I stand?” Jean asked as his head turned back to the ginger. These
little polite gum drop types were so fun to antagonize. She stood, still
smiling as her hands extended a neatly paper clipped stack of papers to him.
Little thing probably worked on this all day. He went to take it, but her grip
stuck and a split second tug of war took place. “You can stand if you’d like,
but I really don’t think you want to be the squeaky wheel here, it doesn’t get
the grease…” She said with a smile and the man with the scruff and lollipop
leaned it smirking. “It gets a door to the ass on the way out.” He said as they
both smiled the same smile, in the same way at the same damn time.

Jean was suddenly incredibly freaked out and aware of how this was not like any
place he had ever been all at once. He tugged the papers away with a glare and
he felt a hand on his back as Christa stood beside him. “I’m sorry. We're all a
bit nervous and it’s been a long drive... I don’t think he meant anything by it
other than his legs are kind of sore. He is pretty tall to be crammed into a
car like that for three hours.” Honey seeped from her smile and Jean was
floored to see what looked like second guesses and guilt shadow across the
duo’s face. She could charm a rock.

“Stand around and chit chat until the others arrive then, but no one gets
special treatment and we won’t waste our breath entertaining useless spite and
a need to cause a ruckus.” The man spoke as the woman nodded in agreement.
Useless spite and ruckus… Jean laughed internally thinking those four words
pretty much summed him up. He was further shocked as Christa extended her hand
proclaiming how nice it was to meet them and introducing herself.

Gum drop was Petra Ral, while scruffy tootsie pop guy was Mike Zacharias. They
were two of the three counselors who would be looking after us. Their eyes fell
on him rather expectantly. He sighed and gave a halfhearted wave. “Jean,
squeaky wheel.” He said was surprised to see Mike laugh and Petra bring her
hand up to her mouth and smirk. So they had a sense of humor even though they
were strict as hell. Maybe they were just being super strict to lay down the
law at first. He saw their eyes turn to Bert, who stiffened. This was always
the worse part for him. But they didn’t ask, they simply nodded at him.

Call it paranoid or observant but that’s when Jean knew he was in for trouble.
They knew Bert didn’t talk. How could they know that? He felt a sense of
betrayal as the realization that they had information if not full medical
histories on them settled into his gut. Sure, this place was college and it
should be fun and all but Jean was suddenly over aware of his surroundings as
he unconsciously got closer to Bert and Christa and peered around. He felt a
lot of things right now but safe was not one of them. It was like he was prey
and college and freedom was the bait and he just walked into the trap. As he
door closed behind him he felt the snare tighten and knew that there was no
escape now.

End Notes
     Comments and kudos make the world go around~~
     I almost didn't post this because it's pure back story and I feel
     like I am spoon feeding yall but it will build up steam :)
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