#gleeful1direction

NOW I REMEBER YOU.

Liv I don’t know who your friend is but i am deeply amused

Cari you need to know Clint.

Clint, you need to know Cari.

Clint, Cari; Cari, Clint.

Love each other. Be amused.

Jesse Clarence Delancey was now sixteen years old, having celebrated his birthday a month earlier. He had grown up to look more like Morris than Oscar, the same brown hair, and similar facial structure.  He dressed a little more sharply, however. More like he had a plan for what would come after he turned eighteen; plans for college. But he never planned on someone like Joan.

In Jesse's grade, there was a girl named Joan Sweeney. Jesse had always considered her sweet, and good-natured, and highly intelligent. She didn't worry like Morris or Braces. She knew perfectly well how the world worked. Her obstinacy proved more a virtue than anything. Her hotheaded comments and quick-witted retorts were part of why Jesse liked her so much. Joan had wavy black hair that only went to her shoulders, and bright blue eyes that always caught him off guard. She was tall, but not too thin; she was, actually, stronger than the other girls in her class. Her father was a newsie, as well, and having heard stories from parents and godparents, Jesse and Joan told each other as many of the mishaps as they could.

So, one day, Jesse brought her home for dinner with his family. Not giving his fathers any warning, heads were reeling at the sight of a girl on the porch.

"Jesse, who's this?" Oscar inquired, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Joan Sweeney," Jesse introduced. "Joan, this is my dad."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Delancey." Joan quickly shook Oscar's hand. Morris hurried to the door.

"Jesse, you didn't tell me you were bringin' 'nyone." Morris frowned. He always expected Jesse to bring home a nice boy. This was a bit of a shock.

"Sorry, dad. This Joan. Joan, this is my other dad." Jesse glanced to her, and she frowned.

"Oh… you have two dads?" She inquired, frowning a little. Her parents never did accept that.

"Yeah, Morris and Oscar Delancey." Jesse furrowed his eyebrows. "Why, is that… is that a problem?"

"Not to me, just my parents." Joan cracked a smile, "They're paranoid and conservative. Gotta love 'em, but, uh... well, they don't know I'm dating a Christian boy with gay parents."

"You're Jewish, right." Jesse nodded slowly, as they sat down at the table. "Well, no judgments here. We's agnostic, kinda... sorta. I mean, Dad-Morris an' I are a little religious, but Dad-Oscar ain't. An' my mom's stopped believin'."

*

"Well, I really like your dads." Joan smiled, after being walked home by Jesse. They stood in the light of a dim lamp on the porch, close enough to touch. "I don't know about my parents, but--,"

"Joanie, come inside, you'll catch your death!" Her mother's voice called from inside.

"Just a moment, mama!" Joan replied, frowning. "They're strict with me, you should... you should go."

"I'm not afraid." Jesse leaned in a little, though he was hesitant and just a little scared in reality. Joan got onto her tip-toes and gave him a chaste kiss. She disappeared into the door after a moment, giving him barely enough time to press his lips back before she had gone inside. He smiled, feeling a little successful and just a bit in love. He sauntered back home, hands stuffed in pockets, and whistled an old love song he'd heard on the radio.

"Dad?" Jesse asked again, even quieter. No response. Jesse pushed out the door and sat down on the porch, glaring at the sidewalk. He wanted to know. He felt like, maybe if he knew, everything else would make sense. Jesse began to analyze his life; the circumstances in which he grew up. Even his name. Jesse Clarence Delancey. Where did the Clarence come from? He didn't even know a Clarence.

A familiar footfall could be heard just a few feet away. A pair of boots, lightly stepping, but with a slight scrape and a thud. It was Braces. She stood carrying a book and a paper-bag, though she hadn't sold newspapers in about eleven years. Jesse looked to her dolefully. "Hey, Braces."

"Everything alright, Jesse?" Braces sat next to him on the porch, placing her bag and the book down at her side. "You look pretty upset."

"No, nothin's alright."

"Ya wanna talk about it?"

"Braces, do you know who my mother was?" Jesse locked eyes with her. Braces noted that he really did have her eyes; that Morris wasn't making it up. Of course, he looked so much like Morris, of course. He had the same light brown hair, the sarcastic remarks despite the kindhearted gestures. Braces stammered, unsure as Morris had been. Calmly, she reached into her bag and pulled out a lett`er. Jesse opened the thing and began to read. It was in Braces' familiar, messy cursive and clearly hadn't been opened in years.

Jesse read the last section aloud. "'When I was fifteen, your fathers cornered me in an alleyway. As much as it pains me to say it, Jesse, you were born because they raped me. I'm so sorry. Your fathers and I love you still, despite the fact. I know, this letter really doesn't sound like me, but Davey's helping me phrase it. I wouldn't be able to otherwise.'" Jesse glanced to Braces earnestly. It seemed highly unrealistic, and wildly fanciful. Chimerical, was the word he was looking for.

"Jess… Jesse?" Braces inquired quietly.

"Hi, mom." Jesse replied quietly, shakily, before throwing his arms around her. "Mom."

"Jess, you can't call me that." Braces shook her head, though she rocked him as she would have if things had been different. She quietly began singing an old Irish tune she sang to her kids when they were sad or sick or hurt. Jesse leaned into her chest and let himself cry a little as he gripped her waist.

Morris quietly, carefully walked outside, noticing his son and Braces. He frowned. "Jesse, is everything okay?" He asked, highly quiescent.

"Dad, why didn't you tell me?" He sat up slowly, messy brown hair flying all over. "Why didn't you tell me that Braces--?"

"Because we did something horrible to her, Oscar an' I  did. I'm sorry, Jess."

"Damn right you are." Jesse spat as he slowly stood up, earning a disapproving look from Braces. "You don't just push people into an alleyway an'--an'---why did you do that?"

"Oscar drugged me."

"That's absolutely NO excuse for what you did, Dad! What you did… yeah, it's why I'm here, but that's… it's vile." Jesse's hands were clenched in fists of rage as he glared at his father. Braces stood up, shaking her head 'no' in an attempt to stop the outburst. Morris looked to Braces with furrowed eyebrows, worried that she had said something. Braces shook her head again, suddenly, for the first time in very long, afraid of him.

"Clara, is there something you wanna say?" Morris asked skeptically, smirking as if he knew she had said something.

"Morris, this is 1915, not 1899!" Braces snapped, "Don't you dare talk to me like that when I'm the only reason your son's here."

"Right, and that was because you were out too late at night. Wrong place, wrong time, doll." Morris suddenly didn't seem like he had been for the last fifteen years. He was like he was the night it happened.

"Don't call me that, you scab." Braces stood in front of Jesse, shoulders squared though she was at least six inches shorter than the boy. "And I was not in the wrong. That was you, and Oscar, and it was never me. It took me months to feel okay again after you did that an' I had to cope while pregnant, so don't you go tellin' me that I'm worthless like ya did then." Morris reached out to grab her shoulder comfortingly, but Braces took it as an attack and hit him. Jesse pulled her back before standing between them.

"Cut it out!" He demanded, as Braces and Morris glared at each other. The anger had been suppressed on Braces' side for years, but when she saw Jesse she knew she had to calm down. "I jus'... it was wrong whatcha did, Dad. I mean it. But Jesus Christ, don't act my age. 'S jus'... Braces, how old was you when it happened?"

"That's a 'orrible question. Fifteen, since you'se fifteen."

Morris nodded slowly, feeling more like himself, less like he had moments before, when his personality seemingly split. He nodded.

"So maybe we can't all agree," Jesse began, glancing between both. "But wes a family, an' we gotta stay that way. I love both of you... so we gotta compromise, okay?"

"Jesse, slow down!" Jack Patrick Morris, age eleven, called, running behind the now sixteen-year-old Jesse Delancey. Jesse had offered to walk the boy home from school, but he had forgotten that he was going into the army the next day. He had packing to do, people to say goodbye to. Maybe by walking Jack home, he could kill two birds with one stone and say goodbye to Crutchie and Braces, who were like a second set of parents to him.

"Sorry!" Jesse exclaimed, stopping for a moment. "Just a bit excited!"

"Well, calm down, I don't run so good." Jack replied tiredly, his husky voice more hoarse than usual. Of course, he had the use of both of his legs, but his parents never really taught him how to walk, as they weren't good at it themselves. He was always careful of his right leg, and walked with an imaginary limp from time to time if something was bothering him. He and Jesse were often mistaken for siblings, having the same eyes and a similar temperament. However, Jesse always replied with the fact that he didn't know who his mother was, that he had two fathers. Both boys, of course, knew that wasn't biologically possible, but to avoid a "when-you're-older" from the Delanceys and Morrises, neither wanted to ask their parents and simply assumed it was a mystery to all of them.

"Well, I'll teach ya if--when I come back." Jesse replied gently, swallowing at the thought.

"Jesse, did you just use an if?"

"No!"

"Delancey...!"

"Fine, I'm goin' into the army, Jacky-boy, I'm not sure I'll come back in once piece." Jesse remarked, taking a step forward. "There's a war on."

"I know there is. My father didn't get drafted on account of his leg." Jack shrugged as Jesse ruffled his messy auburn hair to cheer him up.

"Chin up, kiddo." Jesse cracked a smile, not noticing the gang of boys clambering out of the alleyway. "I'll be jus' fine."

"Heya, pansy." One spoke up, cracking his knuckles. "How's yer dads?"

"They're fine." Jesse stood defensively in front of Jack, shoulders squared. "Your ma's doin' fine."

"What didja say 'bout my mother?" The boy dug into his pocket, pulling out a knife suddenly. "Well, too bad, 'cause you ain't got one. Bet that kid behind yer back's got a ma. Is she yours too?"

Jesse furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"

"Tha's Jack Morris, ain't it?" Another boy spoke up, "My dad told me all about your mother. Fifteen an' pregnant, wasn't she?" A couple of boys nodded. They had heard the stories.

"Don't say that about Braces!" Jesse argued, moving to punch the boy, only to be held back by Jack.

"Heard she did it in the alleyway with both of yer dads." The same boy raised an eyebrow, "Caused quite a stir down on 39th." Jesse shook his head, mumbling 'no' under his breath ad infinitum. "Somethin' wrong with that Jesse? Somethin' wrong with your pansy fathers?"

"Morris an' Oscar ain't pansies!" Jack spoke up, standing close to Jesse.

"So you'll defend his dads but not your mother? Or is she Jesse's mother too?" A voice in the back of the gang spoke up, as Jesse was suddenly cornered by the frontrunners.

"Jack, RUN!" Jesse pushed Jack away as the boys began to pinion him to a tree. Each one had a rock in their hand, and began to throw it at Jesse, yelling hateful words at him, stating he was worthless, and a bastard child in the first place. Jack stood by, trying to push some of the boys out of the way. But they were too big for him. He looked to Jesse, who fought the ropes as much as he could despite the blood on his head, the scrapes on his arms that were visible only up to his elbow, as his shirt covered the rest. The boy with the knife stepped forward and started working on bloodying the forearms even more, reminding Jack of a story his parents had told him of the horrible people he had to watch out for. Jesse couldn't suppress the screams. "Jack, get my dads, get Crutchie, getSOMEONE!"

"I can't leave you!" Jack replied, shaking his head.

"Yes you can. Run! I'll be fine." Jesse groaned, as the knife moved to his throat.

"I can't--Jesse!" Jack looked down to his legs fearfully.

"Run, Jack Morris! And remember what I told ya!" Jesse stated, before the knife was driven into his abdomen. "Run and remember!" He repeated weakly as the boys disbanded in horror.

Jack gasped, before nodding, and turning on a dime. "Watch me run!" He replied hopefully, looking back as the crowd of boys disappeared. Jesse remained with the knife driven into this stomach, blood seeping out everywhere, covering the ropes that tied him to the tree. He was already so much paler, so much weaker-looking. Jack speculated that he looked so much like Morris, rather than Oscar. He kept running, finally finding Oscar and breathlessly telling him what happened.

Oscar ran as quickly as he could back to his son. But Jesse was already gone. Morris showed up soon after, only to find Oscar sobbing on his knees, holding Jesse's body. The ropes lay discarded on the floor, cut hastily by Oscar in a moment of shock.

*

Jack returned home in shock, collapsing into Crutchie's arms, horrified. Braces hurried over to the doorway, concerned. "What's wrong?" She asked, stroking his hair gently.

"Jesse." Jack managed to get out, before looking up at his mother and hugging her tightly. "Mama, they killed him."

"Who did?" Crutchie inquired, looking to Braces in fear.

"These boys from school--they--," He broke off, sobbing. A quiet knock on the door came a moment later, and Crutchie opened the door. Morris, eyes wide and emotionless, hands covered in blood, stood on the doorstep and shook his head. Jack pulled away from his mother, and returned to Crutchie, who held him that much tighter.

Morris slowly walked over to Braces and threw his arms around her, letting himself sob. Oscar had already gotten the police, and taken Jesse to the mortuary, feeling it his duty. He told Morris to go home, but he couldn't do it. Jesse had been the bright spot in his life, something wonderful out of the worst time in his life.

"He's gone, Braces." Morris said tearfully, falling to his knees and holding his head in his hands. "Jesse Clarence Delancey. My boy." Braces nodded, choking back tears. She knelt next to Morris, and wrapped her arms around him. He was shaking violently as he sobbed, and Braces was trying whatever she could to comfort him. Jack was taken upstairs by Crutchie, and the rest of the Morris children were put to sleep and promised it would be explained in the morning. Braces found herself stroking Morris' hair and quietly singing to him as if he were a child, hoping to god that this wasn't her fault for never having told Jesse who his parents were.

"It's not your fault, Morris." Braces promised through her own tears, looking to Crutchie, who watched and wished he had something to say. "It isn't, it's... stupid boys. You used to be like that too." She remembered the Refuge. "It's okay."

"It's not okay." Morris sniffled, slowly sitting back up. His eyes were puffy, cheeks red. He looked thoroughly distraught, empty; like he would never be okay again. "He was my boy. He was going into the army and... an' they beat 'im 'up 'cause Oscar an' I--,"

"Stop that right now." Braces demanded, "You know this isn't your fault and you can't dwell on this." Morris nodded slowly, closing his eyes for a moment.

"He didn't know about why he was born."

"I know he didn't."

"Should we have told him?"

"Probably."

"How do we fix this?"

"I..."

"Can we fix this?"

"We have to move on, Morris." Braces handed him a handkerchief. "It's hard, but it's like the gimp leg. It hurts real bad at first and it seems like ya can't move on but... but after a while ya get used to it an' it still 'oits sometimes, but ya keep goin'. Ya find the strength to remember tha' he's still a part of you even if 'e's gone." Morris nodded slowly, still shaking, and stood up, holding out a hand for Braces to take and stand up. Maybe they couldn't be okay, but maybe they were tough and would try anyway.

"He was so young." Morris commented.

"A year younger than you when it 'appened." Crutchie speculated.

A/N: Once again this is AU.

A/N: Sorry it took so long to complete. I'm getting back into the swing of things and therefore my fics shall be fewer and farther between until spring break and eventually summer. Sorry about that. I'll try to keep up.

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