Authority Song
Jim was a halfway decent cop, he didn't have a lot of unsolved cases. He was usually able to keep his temper in check, his stomach stayed settled even when he had grizzly crime scenes. People tended to respect him, the other cops followed his orders well enough.
Jim might not be winning any awards for cop of the year, but that wasn't a fucking thing anyway so who cared?
It meant that when Jim woke up Sunday morning and saw that his house was a hell of a lot cleaner than it had been when he went to sleep - and it had been clean then too - it set off some alarms. Jim had assumed that taking home two teenage kids with magic and a fuck ton of trauma would be a pain in the ass.
The only pain he had at far was trying to keep track of ‘em.
Thursday night they didn't get home until midnight. Jim had been at work, but Ms Wentzell across the street called the station to tell Jim that he was being robbed. Callahan took the call, radioed it into Jim. Jim asked for a description, figured there were only two teenagers with black hair who would be walking in his place.
Jim had been out that night late, checking all the worst places he could think of for a little boy. When he didn't find jack or shit, he went home for some sleep. The twins were gone, probably at school, and Jim woke up in time for them to come home and Harry to sneak out his window.
The kid was fifteen, it was a Friday night. Who cared? If he wanted to go meet up with some girl by himself, so be it.
Sirianna had been a mouthy shit about it the next morning, but Jim pat himself on the back for not losing his cool on her. They'd been through some shit, they were scared. If they were a little too clingy to each other, whatever. It was fine.
They both returned that night while Jim had been back out canvassing the woods for Will Byers. He knew it because despite Ms Wentzell being told the twins were staying with him, she called in about another break in.
If nothing else, it was a handy security system. Who needed one of those fancy cameras when Jim had a nosy and insomniac neighbor?
Jim spent the night walking the woods and working his way through a pack of smokes. Until he had evidence to suggest any single theory, there were too many ways that Will Byers's disappearance could have played out.
The best theory was that Lonnie Byers called it right and Will was gay. The kid might have decided Hawkins, Indiana wasn't the place for it and ran off to San Diego or wherever the gays lived in their little peaceful rainbow houses.
The worst theory was that someone saw Will Byers as a real easy target and killed the kid. There were plenty of places to hide a body in Indiana, places where Jim could never check. Not finding Will would leave Joyce in Hell for an eternity, Jim in perpetual purgatory.
There were a few other theories in between the worst and best scenarios.
Jim couldn't ignore the one that tied everything together… the one he privately thought might be his top theory.
Harry and Sirianna Potter appeared in Hawkins in the middle of October. They were quiet for a couple of weeks, didn't make a fuss over at Benny's. They show up at Hawkins High on Tuesday morning, Will Byers went missing that night. Benny was dead the next day.
Jim didn't think the twins were involved necessarily, not since he heard their story and trusted his gut that it was the truth, but they could be the key. They ran from some government sickos who would probably do a lot to get ‘em back, there were a few ways that could be playing out.
Will Byers had dark enough hair, a generally thin and pale build. He could have been nabbed on accident, a mixup if they were looking for Harry. They went to get the right kid, killed Benny.
Or Will Byers was a hostage, Benny a warning, and someone was playing a real sick game with two messed up teenagers.
There wasn't a lack of theories, there was a lack of evidence for any singular theory to stand out more than another.
It was pissing Jim off and he didn't get a lot of sleep Saturday night. Joyce Byers broken voice echoed in his ears, it fucking haunted him in his sleep. Sure, it was a nice reprieve from the usual nightmares, but it didn't make for real sound sleep.
So when he woke up Sunday and saw his place fucking sparkling clean, there were alarm bells. Because Jim didn't ask anyone to clean, didn't expect ‘em to. If they wanted to eat, they'd have to cook. If they needed clean clothes for school, there was a washer in the back room. Those were basic expectations, dusting the TV until it looked brand new was not a basic expectation.
There weren't any blankets or pillows in the living room, which meant whichever kid slept on the couch had already been up for a minute. Jim needed to get them a bunk-bed set, they couldn't swap off on a couch forever.
Not that Jim felt real great about sticking a teenage boy and girl in one little bedroom. They were already too close, too dependent on each other. Jim wasn't trying to rip ‘em apart or anything, but space might be a good idea.
That could wait though, Jim would have time for shit like that once he found Will Byers. He'd like to solve Benny's murder - because it damn well had been murder in his opinion - as well, but he had a strong suspicion that solving one would solve the other.
"Anyone home?" Jim walked through his own unrecognizable house toward the kitchen, following the smell of food. There weren't any kids in the kitchen, but there was a plate of food left on the counter.
Eggs, bacon, three eggo waffles right beside a note -
Be home. For Hop.
It wasn't a question which of the twins left it, Jim doubted that it was Sirianna. He did wonder how they managed to cook anything though. Jim had left a twenty on the kitchen counter Thursday night, something for them to buy food with, and it was still there.
Jim wasn't going to look a gift plate in the mouth though. The note clearly - alright, it was clumsy and shaky writing - said it was for Jim.
There wasn't any coffee in the house, but there was half a carton of milk. Jim added some liquor, something to wake him up, and settled down to eat at his suspiciously clean table.
The twins needed some fucking hobbies, something normal, safe. Something separate, give them each something to focus on.
Harry didn't seem like the sport type, but Sirianna had enough fire to do something sporty. Maybe Harry could find a club or something, Jim would have to look into it.
Was Boy Scouts still a thing? If nothing else, Harry could have his fire starter badge at his first meeting.
Jim snorted at his own stupid thought and dug in the breakfast. It wasn't bad, damn good really. Jim ate, drank, and refined the list in his head on where he hadn't chest for Will Byers yet.
The woods on the west side needed combed through. It would be best if Jim could get a dog from a nearby precinct, but the west woods were tricky with invisible property lines for Hawkins Lab through them. There were a few ponds in Hawkins that Jim still wanted to search, all three of them were privately owned, but Jim didn't think anyone in town would say Jim couldn't search around a pond for a missing local boy.
And if they said no then Jim could revisit his theories again, put some focus on anyone who acted like they had something to hide.
Jim grabbed his notebook from his work jacket by the door and returned to the table to scribble out a list.
West woods, ponds, east side of the quarry.
Once he exhausted those options, really exhausted them, then Will Byers was either dead over a national missing child.
Jim had an old map of Hawkins in his newly organized junk drawer and he marked it off with careful grid lines. He had been drawing X's over the places he searched and had been translating the coordinates for the places he hadn't to his notebook when the front door opened.
Two pairs of feet, the rustle of a paper bag. Jim guessed the twins went shopping and planned on asking them how when they walked in the kitchen.
It was Harry, Jim was mostly right. Harry had a brown paper bag in his bare fucking arms. Jim forgot, actually, with the missing kid and dead friend and all, but he meant to pull some cash from his savings and send the twins to buy clothes. Benny hadn't been a wealthy man, Jim figured he had picked up whatever clothes he could afford.
Jim wasn't wealthy, but he had a decent saving account that received a monthly check from the Army for his service and another that carried half of the interest on Sarah's life insurance. Jim never touched the account, didn't want to. His paychecks covered his usual costs, but he could take some out for clothes for the twins.
It seemed like they would be staying a while.
Harry stopped in the kitchen doorway when he saw Jim and his eyes skirted around, the kid was skittish. The kid with him - a much younger kid - wasn't as bad. She - he? Jim had a hard time telling with the childish features and shaved head - stared boldly at Jim with big eyes.
Jim cleared his throat, God, he wished the kid would speak to him.
"You trade your sister in for a new one?" he asked.
Harry shook his head and took tiny little nervous steps in the kitchen with the bag in his hands held up like a shield.
"Siri's at Chrissy's, she'll be back at six o'clock, no later," Harry said, parroting it too quickly for him to not have memorized it. "This is El."
El?
Jim looked back at the other kid, figured El had to be a girl's name. He didn't recognize it though, which was probably good.
"El?" Jim looked at the girl and really hoped Harry was socially stunted and not making a habit out of hanging out with little girls. "What's your last name?"
El looked at Harry, Harry had his body turned to the side and made it real difficult on himself as he unloaded some groceries from his bag.
"She - she doesn't have one. I found her, in the woods."
Jim inhaled, he exhaled. Jim grabbed a cigarette for good measure, took a couple hits before he responded.
"What the fuck did you just say to me?"
Sirianna had a mouth on her, but damn if Jim didn't regret thinking the twins needed to make friends. Harry did a lot of stuttering, stammering, and used as few words as humanly possible to explain to Jim that apparently he had a third kid with magic in his house.
And trauma, because of course the girl had the sane fucking brand on her arm that Harry did.
Jim rubbed his forehead when Harry finished explaining that Eleven was homeless and on the run from the same sick fucks that had Harry and Sirianna for years.
There really wasn't enough coffee or cigarettes in the world for the shit storm Jim somehow found himself in.
"This is awesome," Jim said, drawing the word out sarcastically. "Let me guess," he looked at the girl who hadn't moved an inch the whole time Harry talked, all four minutes. "Dead parents?"
"Papa." El said one word, soft and with some obvious effort. Then she looked across the room to Harry, pointed at her left arm.
"He's - er…" Harry tilted his head and squinted at El. It was like the two of them were having some secret fucking conversation right in front of Jim. "One of them?"
El nodded.
"No parents," Harry said, deigning to speak to Jim again. It was a miracle.
No, of course not. Parents and good guardians went looking when their kid was missing. Joyce Byers was a good parent.
"Any chance you saw this kid from wherever you escaped?" Jim pulled the photograph of Will Byers from where he had it tucked in his notebook to show El. Will went missing Tuesday night, Harry found El Friday night. It was a long shot, not impossible.
"Will." El looked at Harry again. "Them."
Jim also watched Harry, the kid was two degrees easier to read than El. Harry's eyebrows rose some, his arm twitched.
"Oh."
"Oh?" Jim pushed when Harry went right back to wiping down the fucking boxes of groceries before he put them in the cabinet. The kid had issues, but Jim needed answers. "What's oh?"
"Oh…" Harry paused, froze for a second in what Jim thought might have been real fear. "He's dead."
"What?" Jim's heart sank - he didn't want Joyce to know that pain, he didn't. "Harry, hey, kid, this is fucking important. STOP CLEANING AND EXPLAIN THAT TO ME!" he barked when Harry kept cleaning the fucking groceries.
Both kids completely froze and Jim would feel like a dick later, feel like his old man who yelled more than he had ever spoke, but Harry just told him that the boy Jim had been searching for was dead and that took precedence.
It didn't mean Jim felt good about it when Harry's shoulders curled up and he immediately complied with a monotone "Yes, sir."
Harry stared at the floor and El moved silently to his side while Harry explained himself.
"Will's a muggle, if they have him then they're going to kill him. They're going to hurt him and then kill him."
They were going to hurt him - like they hurt Harry, Sirianna, and El - then they were going to kill him. And Will Byers didn't have magic, couldn't escape.
Which meant someone was going to have to go after him.
"Show me where you found her," Jim told Harry, making his voice sharp and commanding. The kid didn't need barked after, but there was another kid who might die soon if Jim didn't do something.
Harry wasn't the one who stepped up to the table, El was. She stood out of arms reach and her eyes scanned the map before she slowly pointed at a section of unmarked grid squares.
"Operation Dimension," she said dully. "Lab."
Lab? Jim looked at the map where El pointed…
Hawkins Lab.
"That's where Will is?" Jim asked her. "You're sure?"
"Operation Dimension," El said.
Whatever the fuck that meant.
"Right." Jim gathered his belongings, paused when he went to put Will's photo in his wallet. "How'd you buy that food?" he asked Harry.
Harry didn't meet his eyes, shrugged at the floor silently. So he probably stole it, used magic, something.
"This," Jim pulled another twenty from his wallet and held it up so Harry and El could both see it, "is for fucking groceries. We are not stealing, magicking, or begging for food. Am I understood?"
"Yes, sir."
Okay, Jim had to deal with that, but he needed to go check out a real lead on Joyce's missing kid first.
Jim left Harry and El at home with strict instructions to stay put. He radioed into the station, letting Powell know he was headed out on a possible lead at Hawkins Lab.
The Lab had been in Hawkins before Jim's parents even were. The official story was that it was a Department of Energy, a research lab made to look into new sources of renewable energy. It sounded like a farce to Jim when he first heard of it, but it was technically just outside Hawkins, in its own unmanned government owned plot of land.
Jim never had a reason to drive out to it before that day, but he flipped on his lights and drove straight there. It took about ten minutes, ten minutes that Jim spent coming up with a story that didn't involve two runaway witches hiding out in his house.
There was an official gate that Jim drove up to, the entire compound was locked down more than an energy research lab should need to be. There were guards with M16's lined up when Jim pulled up, for Christ's sake.
"Name and business." One of the guard's approached the car and Jim had his badge out, his ID along with it.
"Hawkins Chief of Police, Jim Hopper," Jim said. "I'm here to talk to your head of security about a breach in the property."
"Remain in your vehicle," the guard said. He took three steps away from the car and spoke in a radio clipped to his shoulder. Jim kept his face passive, scanned the area and counted the sharpshooters across the property, stationed on the roof; he counted the guards turned casually toward him, their fingers trained on their weapons.
Twenty-seven guards, twelve of them being sharpshooters, gave away the idea of any energy lab being on the property.
The first guard approached Jim's car, took his badge and ID.
"You'll get those back when you leave," he said. He waved to a control booth, pointed at the gate. "Drive through, take a left. Security will meet you at door five."
"Will do," Jim said, staying calm and friendly. "Thanks."
Now, Jim might just be the Chief of Police for what had been the most dull town in Indiana, but he wasn't a fucking moron. What kind of place took his ID and only returned it when he left? That told Jim that maybe not everyone did leave.
Jim drove through and scanned the property as he went. It was extensive, highly secured, heavily guarded. It would take some fucking magic for a kid to escape out of there and it would have been real difficult for a kid like Will to have snuck on the property. If Will was there, he was there because they wanted him to be.
And if Harry was right, they didn't have any good reason to have the kid.
There was a man in a suit waiting for Jim by door five, they didn't plan on letting him inside at all then. There were five guards with him - Jim thought they should have sent more. He didn't need to force his way on the property, not yet. All he wanted to do was scope the place out, get a feel for it.
They wouldn't admit to kidnapping a child and Jim wouldn't break in during the daylight.
"Hello." The man in the suit stepped up when Jim climbed out of his car. He offered him a hand and a sharp nod. "I'm Pete Michaels, Head of Security for Hawkins Lab. The gate said you're here about an alleged security breach?"
Alleged. It was government wordplay, the place stunk of it. Jim Hopper was the last fucking person to be surprised by governments torturing kids, testing on them, abusing them. Every country in the world did it - Jim didn't like it being in his back yard though.
"Yeah." Jim reached for his wallet slowly, didn't want to give any itching fingers a reason to pull a trigger, and pulled out the photo of Will. He handed it to Michaels with a ‘worried but stupid' frown. "This kid is missing, he's a local boy. His friends said that they saw him on your property the day after he went missing. This is a big place," Jim looked around, pretending like he thought Will might be in plain sight, "plenty of places for a kid to hide."
Will Byers was there - or he had been. Jim could tell from the dismissive glance Michaels gave the photo. A man who didn't know the kid would at least spend a second or two looking at him, Michaels only glanced long enough to recognize him then returned the photo to Jim.
"His friends are wrong," he said calmly. "Or lying, I'm sure kids do that. We've had no breaches in security here. Our system is state of the art. If there was a child here, I would know."
Jim bet he would.
"Any chance I can have a look at your tapes?" Jim asked. "Just so I can tell them I know they're full of it?"
Michaels hesitated for a second, tapped his foot - had to be a tell.
"What day did the kids say they saw the boy here?"
"Mmm…" Jim scratched his beard, acted like he couldn't remember. "Had to be… Tuesday? Maybe Wednesday? Hell," Jim chuckled and pulled a cigarette from his pocket to light, "I barely know what today is."
Michaels wanted to sigh, Jim could see it. He could also see that Tuesday was right on the mark - Michaels tapped the toe of his loafer when Jim said Tuesday. They had Will Byers right from the start.
"You're with Hawkins Police Department?" Michaels checked. "I'll send the tapes once I've pulled them. It's not instantaneous, you know."
Nah, editing wouldn't be instantaneous, would it?
Jim nodded, kept up the friendly and dim appearance as he thanked him, offered up the station address for delivery of the tapes, and left. Jim received his ID and badge back at the gate and clocked the guns trained on him as he pulled away.
Jim would get those tapes, see how well they covered their tracks, then he would be back. And when he returned, they'd need a hell of a lot more than a dozen sharpshooters to keep him out.
The police station was quiet when Jim pulled in. Powell reported that there had been one call for a noise complaint on Cherry Lane that turned out to be nothing and that Joyce Byers had called three times.
"She's losing it, Chief," Powell said - his official fucking opinion, it seemed. "She says her kids in her walls and calling her on the phone."
Jim groaned and rolled the stressed muscles out of his neck and shoulders. What did the girl call it? Project Dimension? What kind of magic shit was that?
"Yeah, alright." Jim sighed and wished he didn't have to go lie to Joyce's face. "I'll stop by and see her on my way home. Hawkins Lab is supposed to be sending some tapes, call me the second they arrive."
"Will do!"
Jim grabbed the bottle of scotch from his desk, tucked it in his jacket, took the checkbook from his top drawer too for good measure. Joyce's house was on Jim's route back to his, it wasn't a nuisance to stop by. The nuisance was that Joyce was sick with worry, terrified for her son, and Jim didn't have any good news at all.
No news he could share, nothing that would help Joyce sleep any that night. What could he say?
‘Hey, seems like your son was taken by some magical branch of government that likes to brand, torture, and kill kids. I hope I can get him back, might not though. Anyway, have a good night!'?
The best Jim could do was promise her that he wouldn't stop looking, that finding Will was his top priority.
Joyce's driveway had an extra car in it when Jim pulled up. It was the maroon BMW that the Harrington kid drove. The passenger window was down, Jim was pretty sure it was fucking vomit that was spilled down the side of it.
Which didn't even compare to the tarped over hole in the side of Joyce's house.
Jim paused by the tarp, went ahead and took a quick drink of his scotch. Joyce must have taken a fucking axe to her wall, she actually believed her son was in the fucking walls.
Not that Jim had a lot of room to judge - he had kids filled up with magic and trauma hanging around his house. Maybe Project Dimension transposed kids from the land of reality to the walls of their houses. What did Jim know? Magic existed.
Jim lit another cigarette on his way up to the porch, tracked the lines in the dirt of the yard that made him think the passenger of Harrington's car must have been trashed - drunk enough to throw up and get dragged inside Joyce's place. It might have been Jonathan Byers, or it could have been Steve Harrington himself.
It didn't matter, just a brief moment of something normal for Jim to consider.
Jim knocked, leaned against the creaking post holding the roof of the porch up. He looked up and saw a few loose shingles, a few others that looked recently nailed down. He wouldn't doubt that it was Joyce herself who did it, she never had been one to worry about a man.
Not until she married Lonnie Byers. Lonnie had never treated Joyce like a partner, always a trophy to show up to his shit friends. Jim never understood what Joyce saw in him, it was her relationship with Lonnie that ended any semblance of a friendship they had.
Lonnie's decision, Jim was sure. He had kept a tight leash on Joyce, an alarm that Jim called him out on from the start.
Maybe if things had been different…
Jim shook his head, brushed it off. If things were different, he never would have met Diane, never had Sarah. Things weren't different, things were fucked and getting more so every damn day.
It was Joyce's older son, the one who looked a damn lot like Lonnie had when he was sixteen, that answered the door. He stepped outside and closed it carefully behind him, not letting it make more than a muffled sound.
"Chief." Jonathan nodded respectfully, though his eyes were filled with worry and had bags the size of Texas beneath them. "Did you - do you have any news?"
Jim wished he did. Jim wished more than anything that he had some news to share with the kid - something that would salvage the wreck his life had clearly become. Joyce was chopping holes in the house, Jonathan looked like he hadn't slept in a week, and Jim heard rumors at the station that gossipers in Hawkins were speculating that Jonathan killed his little brother.
It was rough, hellish circumstances for any kid, Jim wished he had good news.
"No news," Jim said, ripping that bandaid off immediately. Jonathan wilted so hard that Jim thought he might have to catch him. He didn't seem hungover though, so Jim assumed it was Harrington that needed a ride and someplace to stay.
"The guys at the station said your mom called, I thought I'd stop by and talk to her," Jim told him. "She in?"
"She's asleep," Jonathan said flatly, the disappointment rolling off him in nearly visible waves. "I had to - to… well, she's asleep."
If Jonathan had to do something to get Joyce to sleep, Jim wasn't there to call him on it. Jim was the last one to judge the way a person found sleep.
"Yeah?" Jim leaned back, sent a pointed look at the tarp flapping in the wind. "I'm guessing she's not doing so hot then?"
Jonathan looked up and shrugged.
"Would you be?"
Would Jim knock a hole in a wall if he thought it might help him get his child back? He would. Jim would knock a hole in the fucking skies if he could have his baby back.
"Probably not," he said evenly. "Anything I can do for you?"
"Find my brother," Jonathan said bluntly. He waved at the wall dismissively, shrugged again. "I don't care about the hole, I don't care if it's cold. I just - we need Will back, please."
Day one on the job they would say - don't make promises. A cop couldn't promise to find the bad guy, they couldn't promise that everything would work out just right. If Jim could play God, he'd do everything differently. But he wasn't God and he couldn't make promises.
"I'm doing everything I can," he said - nothing but the truth. "Why don't you try and get some rest, kid? Your mom needs you, you're no good if you're half-dead."
Jonathan nodded, didn't make any promises he couldn't keep either. Jim didn't like walking away from him, he didn't like that a teenager was carrying the weight of his entire family on his shoulders.
If Jim were God, there wouldn't be missing kids or cancer, there wouldn't be brands on children or torture.
Jim wasn't God though, just a man.
There were a few things he could get right that day though, a few fixtures he needed to make in his own home.
It wasn't quite six o'clock yet so Jim didn't expect to see Sirianna at home. She was though, bouncing around the kitchen with too much energy while she cooked something that smelled like pasta on the stove and rattled on about something to her silent audience.
"And then Tammy said that Chrissy was a bitch and Chrissy told Tammy that she was the bitch in charge, so if she didn't like it then she could leave. And guess what? Harry, guess what? She did!"
"Bye," El said, her robotic voice making Sirianna laugh briefly.
"Exactly," Sirianna said. She turned to glance at El, spotted Jim, and her brightness dimmed.
It was starting to give Jim a fucking complex, being the least trusted person in his own house.
Harry had shifted his chair to the side the second Jim opened the front door, Jim heard the chair scooting. Harry nodded and seemed to be tracking everyone's movements while he squinted at a book in his hands.
Jim focused on him, the twin that didn't seem to hate him for being the wrong caretaker. Sirianna had heartbreak in her eyes every time she saw Jim, a fresh reminder to them both that Benny had been over the moon for that girl. Jim couldn't overcome that, he figured time would have to. Harry was skittish, scared when he was around Jim. It was probably a man thing, probably a person in authority thing.
Jim could start with him. He figured earning one of their trust would soften the way with the other. It might ease the pains of cohabitation for the next three years anyway.
"You ever had an eye exam?" Jim asked him lightly, figuring the answer was no. The kid did a lot of squinting, it gave Jim a headache to see.
"Why would you ask him that?" Sirianna asked immediately, getting defensive when there wasn't a reason to. "There's nothing wrong with Harry's eyes."
Harry didn't say anything, though Jim saw his fingers tightened on his book.
"Does it hurt to read?" Jim asked Harry, ignoring Sirianna's overprotective attitude. "Your eyes feel strained?"
A few seconds passed, the girls both stared at Harry and he clenched his jaw. Then a nod, a small one.
"Yeah, glasses," Jim said. He pulled his checkbook from his pocket and tossed it on the table, in front of Harry. "After school tomorrow, find a ride and find an optometrist- eye doctor. Get an exam, pay with a check. And get some clothes too."
Jim looked at the two other kids - the younger one in a pair of grey baggy sweats and the girl with a face full of makeup and what looked like someone else's gym clothes. He sighed and tried to figure out where the extra kid was going to sleep.
Did they make triple bunk beds?
"For all three of you," Jim said. He pointed at Harry, making sure that he was paying attention. "You're in charge of that checkbook, Harry. Not your sister, not El, you." Sirianna was full of fake confidence and Jim could see that Harry would passively lay back and let her run his life. But Sirianna wouldn't always be there, it sounded like she was already fitting in and making friends. It was Harry who needed to be in charge once in a while, see that he could do it.
"You got it?" Jim asked him.
Harry reached out and slid the checkbook toward him without ever looking away from his book.
"Yes, sir," he said.
That was another thing…
"Don't call me ‘sir'," Jim said, making his way to the table where Harry and El were seated. "You don't have to call me sir. It's unnecessary, alright?"
Harry started to open his mouth, Jim would bet that he was about to say ‘yes, sir' again. The kid had an auto response to authority, Jim could empathize, but it had to break at home.
"Okay," Harry said instead. He glanced at his sister and Jim could see her staring hard at him, probably overthinking every single word that Jim said. When Harry went back to his book, Sirianna rocked on her shoes for a moment.
"Um… do you like spaghetti?" she asked, apparently talking to Jim. She wasn't smiling at him, there was still that shadow of grief that Jim would never be Benny in her eyes, but there was something there.
Jim thought it might be a truce.
"I could eat spaghetti," he said, accepting the truce. "And," he looked at all three kids, not as sure on which one had the obsessive need to clean as some sort of anxiety disorder, "I'll do the fucking dishes. Just so we're all clear here."
Jim wasn't God, he was a halfway decent cop, but Jim used to be a parent, a damn good one. If he had to do the dishes every once in a while to keep three kids from dusting his fucking TV, so be it.