Follows Do Something
If Evan were here, he'd have known what to cook. Zac could have texted to ask, but Evan would have pried. Zac could have lied to him, but Evan's imagination was limitless, and he had the unparalleled ability to imagine the worst, and then respond to that.
It wouldn't have been wrong in this case, but Zac couldn't risk Evan picking up on anything, and then--of course--Riker would pick up on it.
And s**t had already hit the fan. Zac didn't need a repeat.
So he was stuck making a dinner that didn't feel right.
Something light, but filling. Comforting, but not too flavorful. Easy on the stomach, but had to be safe to eat now, or later. Zac spent ten minutes pacing the kitchen before he decided on a can of chicken noodle soup. Evan would have whined about the preservatives, but Zac was counting on them. He heated it up over the stove, like that was any better than microwaving it.
There was no reason to dress it up. It was the same soup his mother would have made for him if he'd been home sick, and even if it wasn't as good as Evan's homemade chicken noodle soup--
Zac wasn't even sure if Julian was going to eat it.
Even Maxim was too stressed out to be thinking about food. Instead of in the kitchen begging, he stayed in the living room with Talia.
Zac prepared dinner supposing Julian had no appetite, but it was the only thing he could think of to use as an excuse for going up to his room.
Nothing paired well together but he didn't care. The soup went into an insulated bowl, so it could stay warm for a few hours. A pack of crackers. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich, sealed in a plastic bag. A cup of applesauce and a banana. A bottle of water.
He'd thrown in a frozen pizza for himself and Talia. It was on the counter, cooling. Zac paced the kitchen for a few minutes before he managed to shove his anger down deep enough that he thought he might be able to hide it while he brought up dinner.
He wasn't mad at Julian. But he didn't know if Julian would believe him if he showed up stomping around.
It was strange, to feel so helpless. Zac wasn't used to being in a position where things felt so out of reach and wrong. But he wasn't good at this emotion stuff.
He was good at being angry. He was good at yelling, and throwing punches. He was good at making bad decisions.
He wasn't good at--
Whatever this was.
Being a father, maybe. It wasn't ever supposed to happen like this, and suddenly he had two boys to take care of, and--
There was a lot that he could do wrong.
Today, especially.
But he couldn't just stomp around downstairs and start filing complaints, or stalk everyone involved to find out if they were in the Negaverse just so he had an excuse to--
Zac drew in a slow, steadying breath. The anger needed to stay down.
So he needed to take Julian's dinner up now before he got all worked up again.
Julian had a minifridge in his room, and snacks. He and Riker kept things fairly well stocked. They were growing boys, and it was convenient for when one of them got hurt--which happened far too often. Realistically, Zac knew Julian had food. He wasn't going to starve. But he spent another moment adjusting things on the plate before he just picked it up and stomped--no, slowed down, relaxed--to the garage.
Maxim's ears perked up as soon as he caught Zac going to the garage, and he trotted after him, nose pressed to the back of Zac's legs. He stayed close, even as they ascended the steps up to the attic.
Zac listened closely.
Maxim's collar jingled. He built the stairs too well for them to creak, so he made sure his footsteps were slow and heavy. He faked a cough at the bottom of the stairs, and the top.
Julian's room was quiet.
The door was closed and the lights were off.
Zac shifted his weight and looked at the ceiling, like it would have the perfect script waiting for him to read from. Maxim was less patient, and pawed at the door. After four attempts, Zac finally nudged the dog with his foot to deter him. Ordinarily, he'd have just hissed and scolded him, but he was trying to be calm.
So he drew in another deep breath and held it. Released it. Balanced the tray in one hand so he could knock lightly.
Maxim stared up at him expectantly, and cocked his head like he was listening for an answer, too.
Unsurprisingly, it was silent.
"Julian," Zac called, and was met with silence. Maxim lifted his paw to scratch at the door again but Zac kept his voice calm, and even, and soft. "I've got dinner. Maxim's here. I can't set it down or he's gonna get to it. Is it okay if I open the door?"
No answer. Still, expected. It wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a no either.
Zac moved slowly, giving Julian a bit of grace in case he needed a little more time. Maxim stomped in impatience and raised his paw once more, so Zac wrapped his hand around the doorknob. Turned it slowly, loudly. Still nothing.
He opened the door and waited--Maxim didn't, so he let the dog hurry into the room.
The empty room.
A frown settled on Zac's face, different from the one he was trying very hard to erase before he got here.
"Jules?"
Not in the beanbag by the window to the right of the stairs. Not at his desk, to the left. Not in his bed, which was still perfectly made. The television was off, which was unusual when Julian was alone in his room. Zac walked slowly through the room, looking for anything out of place.
He didn't spend enough time up here to recognize anything dramatically out of place. Maxim was sniffing a circle around the room.
"I brought dinner," Zac said, forcing suspicion out of his voice. He set the platter down on Julian's desk quietly. "You don't have to eat if you're not hungry, but it's here."
Still nothing.
Zac surveyed the room, but when he couldn't find Julian in the obvious places, he looked in the less obvious ones.
Practically speaking, Zac knew Julian wouldn't have--couldn't have--left. He asked to go to his room, so he was going to be in his room. He wasn't the sort to run away.
...Probably.
Something strange twitched in his stomach.
He couldn't have left without triggering Soleiyu's security cameras. Zac pulled out his phone and checked the notifications.
The most recent notification was Talia pulling into the driveway. Before that, Terry leaving. The cop leaving. The cop arriving, Terry arriving, Julian letting Maxim out in the backyard--
So, not gone.
He hadn't come out of the garage. In the garage, or...? No, why would the door be closed.
Zac pushed the tray a little more on the desk. Not that Maxim would try to get into it, but Zac didn't know what to do with his hands. He wasn't snooping. He was just checking.
He pulled open the first drawer of Julian's desk, but it was just school supplies. The second drawer--oh, right. This was the medicine drawer. Julian had a few prescriptions, and when he couldn't sleep it was just easier to have them up here instead of making him come downstairs.
Zac trusted him with the medicine, of course. But two familiar stacks of letters had been put in this drawer, along with Julian's copy of the no-contact order, and his phone. All neatly tucked away.
He pulled the drawer out a little more. Bottles still full, tucked in the back. Zac closed the drawer quietly.
Maxim was at the closet door, head tilted and laying flat. His nose was pushed under the door. His tail wagged, once, but stilled.
Ah.
"Maxim," he said, rewarded with one tail wag and a side-eye. But Maxim didn't move, just pressed his nose into the door and sniffed deeply, exasperatedly.
Zac leaned against the wall, shoulder digging into the hard wood as he crossed his arms over his chest. Even with his ear to the wall, it was quiet.
"...Julian, I left dinner on your desk. Do you want me to close your bedroom door when I leave?" he asked, and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
He wasn't sure if he should ask again, or open the door, or--
Softly, so much so that he almost didn't hear it, "Yes, please. Thank you."
It sounded like Julian, sort of. His voice, but wrong. Stuffy. Distant. Sleepy. Mechanical.
Maxim wagged again, and pushed himself up like he was going to scratch on the door, but Zac snatched him into his arms before he could get so demanding. "Okay. Can I get you anything?"
Another delay, but another answer. "No, thank you."
He still sounded off. But Zac could recognize it, now. Julian had a few appointments since he'd started staying with them, so kudos to foster care expecting bi-annual and once yearly visits with the doctor. Julian hated them, even if he never said as much. He always shut down in the hours leading up to an appointment. Zac transported a body, but Julian wasn't there, checked out and gone somewhere else. Polite, somehow. His body responded like a voicemail, playing automated messages when you pressed the right prompt.
'Yes sir, no sir, thank you,' usually. Always polite, but never with many words.
So, he was here, but not. There wasn't any reason to push for more, he wasn't going to get it. And he'd just make things worse if he tried.
Julian kept it simple, so Zac did, too. "Okay. I'll be downstairs if you change your mind."
Zac guessed he'd get the 'thank you' response--and he did, a few seconds later. He allowed a few seconds for it to settle, and then said, "Okay, Julian. I'll check in later."
He waited for another 'thank you', got it, then adjusted Maxim in his arms. He wasn't going to get the dog out of the room without carrying him, and Julian wasn't going to be able to relax with Maxim huffing and sighing and whining and scratching.
He didn't mean any harm. He was just worried, too.
But there wasn't anything to do but wait.
