Title: Precious Memories
Fandom: FAKE
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Dee, Ryo, Mother.
Rating: PG
Setting: Vol 2, Act 6.
Summary: Dee and Ryo salvage what they can from the wreckage of Mother’s orphanage.
Word Count: 790
Content Notes: None needed.
Written For: Challenge 333: Amnesty, using Challenge 286: Box.
Disclaimer: I don’t own FAKE, or the characters. They belong to the wonderful Sanami Matoh.




“Do you think this will be enough?”

Dee paused and looked at the stack of flat carboard boxes. “I have no idea. Guess it depends on how much is salvageable.”

He felt cold inside; the kids at Mother’s orphanage had little enough they could call their own to start with, but after the bombing… He supposed he should be thankful all the kids had been outside when the bomb went off, that Mother herself was the only person to be injured in the blast, but even though she was expected to make a full recovery, it was difficult to be thankful about anything.

“Well, I guess I can always get more if we need them. Come on, we should get going; we have a lot to do.”

The orphanage had been made as structurally safe for the moment as possible, the damaged walls braced, and the worst of the debris cleared. They would still need to be careful, and wear hard hats, but the men who would be in charge of the building’s demolition had agreed to help Dee and Ryo salvage as much as possible before they finished the job the bomb had started.

Dee did his best to pull himself together. “You’re right, we’d best get this show on the road. The longer we wait, the more unstable the place is gonna get.” He slammed the rear door and climbed up behind the wheel of the truck he’d rented.

Ryo climbed in beside him, watching his partner with quiet concern. He hated seeing Dee so down. Not that he felt much better himself; he remembered only too clearly how devastating it had felt packing up his parents’ things after their deaths, leaving the place that had been his home. At least Mother was alive, that was a blessing, but Dee was still facing the loss of the home he’d grown up in, with all its memories, good and bad. This wasn’t going to be easy for him.

It was a grim little party who scoured the rubble, made their cautious way to the upper floors, and packed everything they found into an assortment of cardboard boxes, wooden crates, and black bags. They’d have to sort everything out when they got to the orphanage’s new premises, wash the clothes and bedding, repair what they could, and throw out anything that was too damaged. Right now, it was a case of grabbing anything that wasn’t nailed down, and doing so as fast as possible.

The demolition crew dealt with the furniture, carrying it out to the street. Dee wasn’t at all sure everything would fit in the truck, they might have to make several trips, but as long as it was out on the sidewalk, ready and waiting, they could manage. How much would get stolen before they could transport it was anybody’s guess; this wasn’t a particularly good neighbourhood.

Dee hesitated in the doorway of the room that had been Mother’s, suddenly feeling awkward at the thought of packing up her personal items. She wasn’t just his mother, she was a nun, and it seemed… almost sacrilegious to go through her closet. It was built into the room, not free-standing, so he couldn’t simply move it with everything inside. But he couldn’t leave Mother’s belongings behind either, and it was a task he couldn’t hand off to someone else, so he steeled himself and set to work, folding her spare habits into a bag, trying not to look at her undergarments as he swept them off the shelves into another bag.

Right at the bottom on the closet, he found several old shoeboxes tied with string. The string on one had broken and he peeked inside. It was full of photographs and childish drawings, wonky clay ashtrays, and other, less identifiable creations. All the things the kids in Mother’s care had made for her over the years. Tears burned his eyes when he pulled from right at the back a box simply labelled ‘Dee’.

‘My life here reduced to a shoebox,’ he thought. And yet, unlike most of the kids who’d passed through the orphanage’s doors, he’d never completely left. He kept coming back, the one kid Mother had never managed to get rid of. He smiled; looked like she was stuck with him.

“Ryo, can ya give me a hand with this stuff? Just be careful with the boxes; they’re special, all Mother’s mementos.”

“No problem. We can pack them in one of the crates for safety.”

“Thanks, bud.”

When she got out of the hospital, Mother would find all her most precious possessions tucked away safely in her new closet. Even after the old building was gone, the memories that had been made here would live on.


The End