Those Special Kids (Naomi, Callum)

[Callum Avery]

Callum Avery was sitting behind his desk in his small office in the Childrens' Services offices of Phoenix, Arizona. It had been a long week, and he was currently sorting through the paperwork of his latest assignment, a 12 year old boy named Michael Maxwell. Michael's parents had died the previous week, leaving the boy with no family, and no relatives or family friends to take him in, leaving him the ward of the state for the time being.

Leaving Callum with a great deal of paperwork.

He had some small relief when a local youth shelter had offered to take the young boy in for a couple days while a foster family was found, although Cal questioned why the, usually overly full, youth shelter has suddenly had room when Michael had been unceremoniously, and gruesomely, delivered into the capable and overworked hands of Childrens' Services. Still, he had too much work to do to really question the motives of the people who ran the shelter.

Callum had dropped Michael off that morning, and now it was nearly two and the paperwork was still not done. He sat behind his desk, neat stacks of paper strewn about it in his small office with two folding chairs, a window that opened on the parking lot, and a small, brass sign on his ajar door that proclaimed him: Callum Avery: Social Worker.

"Sign and date...ward's name...ward's status..." he said under his breath as his blue pen filled out yet another form. His jacket was slung over the back of his chair, and the top button of his white shirt was unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up in his immersion in his work. He was so absorbed in his work that he was almost oblivious to his surroundings.

[Naomi Takeda]

Another day, another dollar. In this case, it was another gooey swab to collect and look at through a microscope. Fortunately for that day, Naomi was allowed out of the lab and able to investigate this case to some extent, obtaining DNA samples to match with the material at the scene of the crime. The thought could make a few people writhe in horror, but Naomi knew from the get-go that much of her job would involve looking at gooey things through a microscope.

...Not to assume the poor kid killed his parents, accidentally or not, but she couldn't assume he was innocent either. There were wicked people in the world, and sometimes they did choose to start young. Poor saps, they were.

Brushing away a stray lock, Naomi likewise tried to swat away that idea and keep an objective mindset as she wandered down the hallway toward the correct office. Callum Avery was the man she had to confront, obtaining permission to continue. Naomi already had the warrant, of course, but it was the polite thing to do. As if the man walking at her side, Officer Powell, wasn't proof enough.

No doubt he'd comply. The dark-haired woman was pretty clearly a trained professional and, overlooking the unmistakeable police officer walking beside her, she was dressed for the job. She wore a baby blue blouse, its top few buttons unlatched, a pair of dark blue-gray pinstripe slacks, and high-heeled black pumps. A silver watch was on her right wrist, and a necklace made from about ten incredibly tiny overlapping silver chains strung at the base of her slender neck. When she stepped into his office, her manner was polite and cautious.

"Hello? Mr. Avery?" Naomi said, cupping her hands at her front and smiling. She repressed every urge she had to bow politely, as had been ingrained in her mind from youth, and took an uncharacteristic turn by holding out her hand. One could tell it was awkward if they were paying attention, but this man seemed rather swamped in paperwork to take great note of someone's forced and uneasy mannerisms. In her other hand, she had made sure to take out the proper documents to show the man.

"My name is Naomi Takeda, this is Officer Powell." Out of habit, she nodded her head. "The police sent me, and I need to gather a few samples from young Mr. Maxwell, for evidence." In an instant, she recalled the documents she should present, and handed Mr. Avery the warrant without hesitation.

[Callum Avery]

Cal was shaken from his reverie of paperwork by a young woman and a police officer at his door. This wasn't an out of the ordinary occurrence, but at the same time, this sort of visit usually led to more paperwork for him. Still, he was nothing if not a positive person, and greeted them with a smile.

"Oh, sorry about the mess," he said, looking up at them and hastily standing and stepping out from behind his desk. Cal extended his hand to the young (officer?) woman, giving her a warm smile.

"Please, have a seat," he added, motioning to the two chairs sitting in front of his desk. "I hope it's okay if I take a moment to look over the documents before we go to get him? I'm sure there won't be any problem with doing that, though."

He knew that the files would be in order, but the young woman seemed a little nervous and it was always good to put people at ease and make totally sure that things were done correctly. Especially with kids involved. Shuffling a few papers to the side, he cleared off a space on his desk and opened the file.

As he began to look over the documents, he glanced up at her, continuing scanning the file.

"So, what kind of samples are you collecting?" he asked in a friendly and conversational tone. "I hope Mike hasn't done anything wrong?"

[Naomi Takeda]

Naomi widened a modest smile and obliged the man by seating herself, though she did give the officer escorting her a reassuring look to let him know he could, if he so desired, leave the place. Acting upon that choice, Officer Powell departed the room, leaving the two alone. The man at the desk, however, seemed to be swamped in paperwork and needed a minute or two. It was expected, but Naomi understood. "Yes, of course," she nodded her head to Mr. Avery, "you may take all the time you need. I have all afternoon."

Thus, he took his time and minutes passed, during which Naomi kept her eyes firmly on Mr. Avery, somehow feeling an inexorable draw toward him. It was odd, but it let her endure the waiting period during which he considered and examined the documents without much complaint, and it somehow kept her mind of the stressful and inconclusive circumstances that would strike her mind pretty often in the present day. Even though he wasn't speaking, Mr. Avery seemed like a very charismatic man to have that sort of gravitation about him.

When he decided to speak, Naomi had no great issue tearing away her attention from the diligent stare toward him, in order to make a reply. Talking to the magnetic Mr. Avery would be just as good as looking at him, right? Probably so. "The usual, Mr. Avery," Naomi said, patting the examiner's bag that she held in her lap, "Any sort of genetic samples, mostly hair, saliva, and fingernails. We need it to compare with evidence at the crime scene."

She didn't ignore the latter half of his statement, either, because it happened to coincide with a thought she had upon entering the room. He may have been young, but people were surprising that way. Whether he committed the crime or not, she tried not to assume the worst. "I can't say for certain, sir. You can't assume things about people these days." Drawing her eyes down, she readjusted her feet in place on the floor almost uneasily. "The samples have to be compared just to make sure..."

[Callum Avery]

Cal finished looking over the papers, straightening up and giving Naomi a smile.

"Well, all this looks in order, and you can call me Cal by the way" Cal said, referring to the papers. He straightened up in his seat, giving Naomi another smile. "If you want, I can take you over there. Won't take long."

He was pretty sure she would take him up on his offer, and he pulled a blue, ballpoint pen from his desk drawer and signed off on the documents, then stood, snagging his jacket from the back of his seat and shrugging it on.

Not remembering where he put his keys for a second, he scanned his desk and patted his coat pockets, fishing them out of his left coat pocket a moment later with a small but triumphant grin on his face.

"I always seem to lose these things," he said to her by way of explanation.

[Naomi Takeda]

Naomi, aware of his magnetic qualities, couldn't take her eyes off of Mr. Avery for very long at all. Or...Cal, she supposed she should call him. Nonetheless, things were going smoothly and she was grateful. It was time to step back and follow him on the way to meet the young lad and get what was needed. She, in a rare turn, even found the patience to put up with his unexpected delays, where he fumbled with his coat and keys. Normally, it would have made her tap her foot, but she supposed it was one of those exceptions.

"That's no problem, Mr.," she paused, with a brief stir of her eyes downward, righting her wrong, "...Cal." Smiling, she sensed a strange coincidence on some level. Right then, she misplaced her words just as Cal said he misplaced his keys. Obviously, she must have done the same often. Chuckling, she shook her head a bit. "It happens to us all," a hand was raised to her chest, "To the best of us."

Backing toward the door with the careful, mousy steps, Naomi waited for him to usher her to where she was needed.

[Callum Avery]

Cal led Naomi back through the building, through the doors, and out into the hot, dry, Arizona parking lot. As he walked, he pulled a cell phone out of his jacket pocket, hitting a number on speed dial. After a moment's wait, he began to speak into it.

"Hi, this is Mr. Avery from Children's Services...yeah, Marge, I was wondering if Mike Maxwell was there and if you could tell him I'm stopping by in a little bit...No, the forensics office sent someone down who needs to talk to him and I'm bringing her over...Okay, see you in a bit, Marge. Bye."

Hanging up, he walked over to a nicely kept up, white Volvo, and opened the passenger side door for Naomi before walking around to the driver's side and getting in.

The trip was just a short jaunt down a few streets, taking no more than ten minutes. Callum's Volvo pulled into the driveway of a largish, pale yellow house in a decently well kept, but not overly wealthy neighborhood. The house was overgrown a bit with ivy, and the front garden looked like it could use a little weeding, but it put off a homey feel.

A large woman with grey hair and a flowered apron came to the door as they exited the car, pulling a pair of oven mitts off her hands.

"Cal, boy, when you said you were bringing some law officer over, I wasn't expecting someone so nice looking,"[/i] she said in a voice that was both stern and joking at the same time. It was a motherly voice, one that took no crap but made cookies for the good kids.

"Hey, Marge, I'd like you to meet Naomi Takeda, she's with the forensics department," Cal replied with a grin, stepping up onto the porch and pulling the lady into a one armed hug which she returned. "Ms. Takeda, this is Marge Yeoman, the house mother here. Marge, is Mike ready to see us?."

Marge looked Naomi up and down with a slight nod at the end that gave the impression that she had weighed the slight, young woman and did not disapprove. "It's nice to meet you, Ms. Takeda," she said, offering her hand. "And yes, Mike is ready to meet you; he's in the kitchen right now."[/b]

[Naomi Takeda]

It would have been wonderful if, during the car ride, Naomi felt comfortable. No, instead that wasn't the case. Holding her tote bag in her lap, fingers drumming along the rim idly, she mentally went through her entire laundry list of what could go wrong under these circumstances. This man was trustworthy, but he was obviously charismatic as well (due to the duly-noted magnetism he had about him), and that quality in a man could be problematic. Oddly, toward the end, she wound up feeling at rest around him, soon enough for them to pull into the driveway of a pale yellow house.

When formalities were had, Naomi held out her hand in like manner to the woman, Mrs. Marge Yeoman, and nodded her head politely, her smile quaint. "It's nice to meet you too." She just wasn't sure about the hugging part, but she probably wouldn't object if the woman held out her arms. As far as Naomi learned, however, people around those parts didn't hug strangers too often. Taking a step back, holding the bag at her front, she waited until she was invited inside.

"Thank you," Naomi said, and, even though she felt awkward walking inside without the woman acting as a polite host and actually leading her into the home. It was just one of those things, she supposed. Still, she walked rather slowly, in hopes that someone could follow. There was always the nagging feeling that she, as a professional, could have some sort of blame laid upon her due to a lack of witnesses. Maybe she just worried too much, too, she figured right as she went onward.

Now that she was inside, finding the kitchen was rather easy. It was a hop away from the front door, but she couldn't immediately find young Mr. Maxwell in her line of sight. This, although little of a problem, was easy to work around. "Hello?" Naomi said, walking onward into the kitchen, where she saw a boy who matched the description. She stood in the doorway as she asked again, "Are you Mike Maxwell?"

[Callum Avery]

The young man sitting at the table in the kitchen looked up from the grilled cheese sandwich he had been eating. He looked haggard, tired, sitting there in a pair of faded blue jeans and a gray hoodie.

"Yeah, I'm Mike." His voice was tired too like he'd gone through a lot and was sick of people asking how he was. "Are you another social worker?"

---

Cal had followed Naomi and Marge in, staying with the other woman in the living room while Naomi went into the adjacent kitchen. He smiled at Marge as Naomi left the room.

"So how is he? Mike, I mean."

The older woman sighed, shifting herself down onto one of the old, floral print couches in the living room.

"He's okay. Doesn't talk much, but he's not causing trouble, so that's good."[/i]

She looked towards the kitchen, absentmindedly wiping her hands on her apron.

"So do they think he did it?"[/i] She asked, a worried and very motherly look in her eyes.

"I don't know," Cal replied, leaning against the arm of a couch, crossing his arms over his chest. "I think she's only here because they've run out of leads. Most likely it's just to have some sort of closure on that end or something."

[Naomi Takeda]

"No," Naomi said, shaking her head gently. She couldn't help but wonder if, at the very moment, he felt a sense of relief. No doubt the boy had been through too much lately, and since she wasn't going to be there for long anyway, her brief presence should have been no trouble at all. "I'm not a social worker, and I'll only be here for a short while. I'm only a forensic examiner, and I need samples of your DNA for some tests."

Giving Mike a slight, reassuring smile, Naomi reached into her bag and took out a cotton swab, hermetically-sealed in a plastic casing that she soon peeled away very carefully. Probably, Naomi thought as offered the boy the swab, she should take extra precautions. She thought back to wonder if, thinking on her feet professionally, she stowed away her sterilized fingernail clippers in her bag. Extra samples could prove somewhat valuable, she thought.

In true Naomi fashion, she looked over her shoulder to see if anyone was nearby before continuing. Callum was close, but was he paying attention? It seemed that something within her didn't feel wholly comfortable asking for Mike's genetic samples without someone observing nearby. It was part of the job, however.

"Please, put this in your mouth and rub it against the inside of your cheeks," Naomi said, moving the head of the swab in slow, wide circular motions to demonstrate. "I might also need you to hold out your hand, so I may clip some of your fingernails." She hoped the boy drew the connection that either request was due to her prior mention, being the reason why she was there. Not everyone knew that proper genetic material could be found in the fingernails and saliva, among other sources. Again, she smiled reassuringly, yet she also gave another look back to Callum. He was still talking to Mrs. Yeoman.

[Callum Avery]

Mike took the swab from Naomi and tentatively scraped it against the inside of his mouth, keeping eye contact with her to pick up on any cues that he was doing it wrong. He handed it back to her, silently, and left his hand flat on the table in front of her so that she could take the fingernail clippings. It was obvious he was nervous about something, but it was a tired nervousness; one that was almost subsumed by the overload of what must have been a hellish past few days.

Cal stood from his seat on the arm of the living room couch, walked into the kitchen, and leaned against the door frame. Mike shot him a glance, then looked back to Naomi, relaxing slightly, but noticeably at the older man's presence.

”Everything all right in here?” he asked, picking up on Mike's worry and realizing what it was about. In truth, Cal was hoping the DNA samples that Naomi was picking up from Mike weren't going to be scrutinized too closely. The Archivists who were working with Mike weren't sure if Mike had manifested yet, but they were sure that he was special in some way. Hopefully the DNA tests wouldn't pick up that, but even if they did, he was sure they'd be able to cover it up. Mr. Drayman was a resourceful man. He gave Mike a reassuring smile.

”Yeah, just fine,” Mike replied, flashing Cal a small smile.

Mrs. Yeoman bustled by Cal into the kitchen and started busying herself, looking at Naomi and Cal with a motherly expression on her face.

” Can I get you anything? To eat or drink that is,”[/i] she asked, gesturing to a tray of cookies cooling on top of the fridge.

[Naomi Takeda]

Naomi, glad the boy was compliant, spared further thought in collecting the samples. The swab was taken from him as soon as it was given back to her, placed afterward in a sterile plastic bag, and the several slivers she started to clip from his fingernails weould meet a similar eventuality.

While this happened, Mrs. Yeoman, being quite a hospitable host, asked the two guests if they wanted anything. Thinking it over for a moment in time, Naomi couldn't think of anything she really wanted right there. With a grin, tilting her head slightly so her hair would fall away from her face, Naomi responded. "No, thank you. I'm fine."

Mike's last fingernail was soon clipped and sealed in the bag, completing Naomi's task. Stricken with a slight sense of relief, she was glad the young man didn't put up any sort of visible fight. It was enough to bring a relaxed smile to her expression, once she looked up from Mike's hand to his face. "Thank you, Mr. Maxwell. You've been very cooperative, and I appreciate that."

Putting the pair of bags containing the samples back into her bag, Naomi looked to Cal again. If anything, she was waiting for him to speak first. Even though she would normally dismiss herself right away, something about the situation made it seem proper for Mr. Avery to do such things.

[Callum Avery]

Cal looked from Mike to Naomi to Marge, then took a deep breath to ease the tension in the room.

"Well then, did we get what we came here for?" he asked Naomi, even though he knew that she had. It was an odd part of human nature to ask for confirmation on things they already knew to be true.

He turned to Marge Yeoman, grasping her hand in both of his in a handshake, "Thanks, Margie. We'll need to catch up sometime."

"Yeah, Cal, when you get time off, you stop on by," Margie's voice was joking. The woman knew that Cal worked too much, and that wouldn't change in the near future.

Cal rolled his eyes a bit at Marge's gentle chiding, and patted her hands before turning to Naomi.

"You ready to go," he asked.

[Naomi Takeda]

"Yes," Naomi patted the side of her bag, "This is everything we need." It being far from her to excuse herself from the scene (at least at the moment), Naomi smiled when Callum soon did the same thing for her, after a brief exchange with Marge.

"We can go now. Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Yeoman," Naomi said to Marge, walking towards the woman and holding out her hand much like she'd seen Cal already do-- similar to before, however, she, at the same time, nodded to Marge the same as with her initial introduction to Mr. Avery.

"Nice to meet you, Marge." The circumstances under which the two women met could have been more favorable, though. Naomi, as well as the police department and forensics lab, were basically accusing Mike of the crime that killed his parents, simply by omission. It only made sense to include him, but Naomi knew that if she were in the boy's place, she'd feel pretty hurt.

...But there was also every need to stay professional, to keep an objective viewpoint about the matter. So far, other than her small stray line of thought, Naomi wasn't about to worry that she was mentally stepping out of line.

"I should go back to the lab before the day's through," she said, glancing over to her driver. Her escort had returned to the police station, so Mr. Avery was her best way of getting back to work. That way, she could get right back on track and end all these suspicions about the boy once and for all, no matter what the outcome. As long as there was closure...

[Callum Avery]

Cal lead the way out of the house, Ms. Yeoman standing in the doorway behind them, arms crossed over her ample, aproned stomach. Mike hadn't really responded as they left, still sitting at the kitchen table.

"Nice to meetcha too, Naomi," Marge Yeoman had said by way of Farewell to Naomi. "Hope you got what you came for."

The last comment was delivered in a deadpan, 'don't be thinking the worst of the kid just because your chief tells you to, cop lady,' sort of way that wasn't mean, but was similar to the way a mother cat would arch her back to warn a group of neighborhood kids off her litter then nuzzle up to them once they'd backed off a suitable distance. It still warranted a raised eyebrow from Cal.

Cal walked around his car, opening up Naomi's door for her so that she could get in more comfortably with her bags, then walked around to his side, waved at Marge, then got in, turning the key in the ignition and backing out of the driveway.

”Don't mind Marge,” he said to Naomi as he drove, keeping his eyes on the road. ”She means well, but comes off a bit unfriendly if she thinks one of her kids is in some sort of trouble. Now, where do you want me to drop you off?