Chapter Text
“Jacob, can you please look at Ms. Carla while she is trying to speak to you,” Ms. Artz asked. His foster mom at Widman Boys Home. The place where he’d been living for the past few months. He didn’t particularly dislike the gray haired lady but he didn’t really like her either. She was always demanding things of him.
He turned his eyes to the lady in front of him. Ms. Carla was a thin lady in a polka dot dress and big thick purple glasses that were large for her long face. He didn’t mind her so much. She was nice enough. His social worker; they’d met 4 months ago when she’d taken him from the hospital which he’d spent two weeks in after a beating from his stepdad.
“Jacob,” Ms. Carla started tapping on the table as she looked for the words she wanted. She seemed almost nervous. Her tapping drew his attention to a medical kit he hadn’t noticed before. Was she going to take his blood? He hoped not. He really hated needles. Especially when he understood the destruction they could cause. He’d watched his mom wither into a person he didn’t recognize every time she inserted one in her arm. Ms. Carla noticed his staring “It’s a DNA testing kit.”
His brows pinched together as he looked at her. Why would that be here? His mother didn’t know who his father was. He’d lean against the bedroom door listening while Ms. Artz and Ms. Carla tried to figure out who his father was when his mom visited. His mother only ever had one name to give. She knew him as Iceman.
Supposedly, they’d spent a few nights together while she’d been road tripped to California one summer. That’s all she would offer each time she was asked, sometimes she’d give vague descriptions. But nothing useful.
Frankly, he thought Iceman was a dumb name. But also, he wasn’t a fan of Jacob either, so who was he to criticize?
She always asked to see him after Ms. Artz and Carla asked about who his father was or if he had any other family. Always hoping they’d catch her when her mind was right. Not that he’d get to see her of course, due to her never being sober.
He always looked from his window down at the street waiting for when she was due to arrive. On the rare occasion she actually showed up on the once a week visit allowance. He’d assess her from his place of safety, the small window that looked down at the street from the attic. She always looked the same, covered in bruises, her long stringy crone like blond hair scrambled up on her head. She’d stopped looking like his mother nearly 5 years ago. But it never failed in his hope to see her like she was before the meth. Before Richy, his stepdad, beat her.
“We may have found your father,” Ms. Carla said eventually before tapping the DNA test “he isn’t listed on your birth certificate. So, we have to provide DNA evidence, if he’d like to take custody of you. It’s a simple cheek swab, Jacob. Not painful or anything. Would you mind if we swabbed the inside of your mouth?”
If he’d like to take custody of you. Typical. Some man named Iceman was probably another Richy, just with a more moronic name. But alas the man with the stupid name peaked his interest.
He stared at her and she took it as a yes as she started opening the package before pulling out the instructions. She read them over before opening the little tubs and swabs. He held out his hand when she moved in to swab the inside of his mouth.
“I can help you, Jacob,” Ms. Carla said, but he simply held his hand out waiting. She sighed, handing over the tub and the long Q-tips, before reading the instructions out loud this time. He quickly did as he was told, swabbing each cheek then putting the Q-tips in each tub. Once finished, he gave her an expectant look. “Yes, you can go.”
He quickly moved his chair back ignoring the harsh scraping before shooting up the stairs to the attic. He’d been placed there after too many fights with the other boys. He didn’t mind it. They were stupid anyway.
***
“Mav, you need to take a breath, you are making me anxious,” Ice told his husband as they sat in a coffee shop outside of Austin, Texas. His small husband looked at him incredulously.
“You should be anxious! You have a surprise son, we know nothing about!” Mav hissed at him. Honestly he was anxious. Very anxious.
Less than a week ago a social worker called saying she saw him on TV at one of his conference talks and his callsign ‘Iceman’ was displayed across the screen, and she’d taken a leap. Then proceeded to tell him that a woman he’d potentially slept with when he was stationed in Lamoore was saying he had a son. And that said son was in foster care now. And seeing as that was a few years after Top Gun when he was trying to get Mav out of his head.Well. He agreed to do a DNA test. And low and behold it was a positive match.
They’d learned nothing about the kid, only that he was 10 and how he’d ended up in foster care. It made him sick to think a 10 year old boy had been beaten so badly by someone who was supposed to love him. His son had been beaten so badly.
He’d just gotten his stomach knots under control but his husband, the anxious worrier, had worked them right back up.
Now here they were. Waiting to meet Ms. Carla Revas. To discuss getting custody of his son.
“Captain Kazansky,” the lady in a red 1950’s dress greeted, shaking his hand.
“Please call me Tom or Ice,” Ice responded, pulling the chair out for her to sit in.
She introduced herself as she sat “Carla Revas. And you are?”
“His friend, Pete Mitchell, ma’am but everyone calls me Mav,” Pete introduced, the normal introduction. Human rights had come a long way but they still weren’t allowed to be legally married. They’d had a tough time both being able to adopt their son Bradley 3 years ago after Bradley’s mother and their friend Carol passed. And Texas wasn’t the most understanding state. So, they took the necessary precautions.
Carla looked between the two men before giving an understanding smile. It lifted a small weight off his chest. One obstacle down.
“Nice to meet you, Mav,” Carla answered before pulling a legal pad and a closed folder out “Shall we jump right in? Since he is your biological child, you have a right to custody. But Jacob is in a sticky situation with the living situation he came from. And I want to make sure with 100 percent certainty that Jacob is going to a safe home. And also to a home that can provide him with….special attention.”
“Special attention? Do you mean he’s autistic?” Mav asked anxiously before clarifying hurriedly “Not that, that matters, we can provide him with whatever level of care he needs.”
Carla gave a soft smile “I’m glad to hear that Mav. We don’t believe he is autistic but there’s nothing definitive.” She paused as if looking for the best way to phrase her next sentence “Jacob is mute. His mother said before the accident that he spoke but she is a drug addict and has been high the few times we’ve seen her. He’s seen doctors who have said that since he’d been hospitalized with a major concussion, it’s possible that caused it or he may have been mute before. And when I say special attention I mean Jacob’s never been to school. It became clear the first time we took him to a school. We don’t believe he can read or write. We’ve tried getting him assessed in the public school system but he refuses to do any of the work. And our state funds won’t allow for more specialized attention.”
“We can definitely find a specialist that could work with him. And not to mention that we would do everything we can to help him. Our 13 year old Bradley’s mother passed away a few years ago, that’s how we became his fathers, and he’s worked exclusively with a child psychologist. There’s no limit in what we can and will do for Jacob,” Ice explained, already making a mental list of people to call and reach out too. His son was going to get the best attention that he could.
“This is good to hear. It seems to me that Jacob will be well taken care of. But there is the matter of you being in the military,” Ms. Carla looked at Ice before shifting her focus to Mav who was wearing his leather flight jacket “It looks like you are in the military too. Who will be caring for Jacob when you are both deployed? Is it someone who could take care of his needs?”
“That doesn’t happen often, I can assure you. But Penny and Ron Kerner. They are his aunt and uncle. Ron is military as well and understands what Jacob and Bradley will be dealing with. And Penny was a Navy Brat. She is an English Professor at San Diego State. They also only live two blocks from us. They are both going to frequently be in Jacob’s life.”