Brotherly LoveThis is a featured page

Written By: Solo's Girl

Cecille Bergstrom was explaining to Napoleon and Illya what life was like for her and her brain damaged brother Nils. She took a deep breath, sighed and looked at Solo

Cecille: "I guess you can’t understand that."

Napoleon: "No, as hard as it may be for you to believe, I can understand."
Excerpt from "The Brain Killers Affair"  


The little boy walked down the cold grey hallway. His hands folded in front of him. His shoes were shined to a mirror finish, his blue suit pressed and the small bow-tie straight and perfectly placed. His jet black hair was parted neatly and despite the best efforts of his father to brush it back, a small section flopped over on his forehead. The boy had just turned five. He was the ideal image of the perfect son. His father turned and looked down at him.

"I want you on your best behavior," the man said, "No noise, no whining. Do you understand me?"

The child shook his head. When did he ever whine? He was one of the most well behaved children a parent could ever want. Even yesterday, he didn’t cry or yell or throw a tantrum because no one remembered that it was his birthday. He quietly took a cupcake from the pantry and sat in his room singing "Happy Birthday" to himself. Afterward he sat on the window seat in his room and looked out over the snow covered city.

"Yes, Father," the boy said.

They walked into the room.

He saw his mother, pale and tired resting in the bed. She looked at her boy as he stood in the doorway. Her hand reached out towards him. He ran to the bed and climbed into the chair beside it. The woman put her arms around him.

"My sweet, sweet baby," she said giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"I love you Mother," he said, "When are you coming home?"

"In a few more days, my love," she said kissing his cheek once more.

A few more days? She had already been there three days. Her husband walked up and gave her a kiss. He took hold of her hand.

"What did they say?" the man asked. He saw her lip quiver. "Then they confirmed what they had told us before."

She only nodded. The boy looked at her.

What had happened? Why was his mother so sad? She was always laughing and singing. She loved playing with him whenever she could. And she had been so excited about the new baby that was supposed to be coming. He looked at her.

His father picked him up off the chair and took him into the hallway. They walked to a small bench across the hall and his father sat him down.

"You sit right here," the man said, "Don’t wander off. Right here, understand?"

The boy shook his head. He folded his hands on his lap. His feet swung back and forth as he tried to keep his legs from getting cold. It was just after New Years, there was snow on the ground, but he still had to wear short knee length pants, because that was how young gentlemen dressed. He reached up and pulled the collar of his coat tighter.

Several of the nurses saw him and walked over to the beach. One knelt down in front of him.

"Aren’t you a handsome young man," she said, "Are you here with someone?"

"My father brought me to see my mother," he said pointing across the hall.

She looked back at the room.

"Oh, you must be Napoleon," she said, "Your mother was bragging about you yesterday."

The other nurses giggled. But when he looked up at them, they melted at his sight of his hazel eyes and dimpled chin. The one nurse stood up and helped him stand on the bench.

"Ladies, this is Mr. Napoleon Solo," she said smiling.

They smiled as he made a polite bow. Such excellent manners for a child. But the son of a diplomatic liaison had to be well mannered. The one nurse stepped across the hall and informed the Solo’s that they were watching the boy.

"Come along, Napoleon," she said picking him up, "There is someone I want you to meet."

All of the women smiled and fawned over the boy as the nurse held his hand and walked him down the hall. They stopped outside of two dark grey doors. She straightened his clothes. Holding tight to her hand they walked into the isolation ward.

The room was full of machines beeping and buzzing. Lights were flashing in sync with some of the sounds and in the middle of all this mayhem was a large plastic box sitting on a rolling table. He was a bit scared as they approached but the woman gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. The closer they came to the table the less Napoleon could see. The nurse pulled a chair up and helped the boy stand up on it.

Napoleon’s eyes widened. His mouth dropped open as he looked thru the thick plastic. The nurse smiled at his reaction. She moved him closer.

"Napoleon Solo, I want you to meet your baby sister, Victoria," she said.

He just stared at the small figure laying there. An oxygen tube in her tiny nose gave her air. He saw the tiny tubes and wires running from the little body to the massive machines. She had a slight purple tone to her skin and her tiny body twitched. Napoleon’s eyes grew wider as he leaned closer.

"Wow!" he said putting his hand carefully on the box, "She’s beautiful."

And she truly was. She had a thick crop of jet black hair just like her brother. The same deep hazel eyes peered out from thin fragile eyelids. The only difference was, hers would never have the same sparkle as her brothers. He counted her fingers and then her toes. Yes, everything was just as it should be. She was perfect.

The nurse tried to hold her tears back. Two of the others sniffed back theirs.

"Why is she in this box?" he asked.

"She’s sick and this is going to help her get well," the nurse said.

Napoleon never took his eyes off the tiny figure. He looked in wonder at his little sister. They watched him lay his face against the side of the box and smile. Napoleon felt a warm feeling inside his stomach. He wouldn’t be alone anymore. And he would make sure she wasn’t ever alone.

"She’s perfect," he said still awestruck by the baby.

He waved at her. The nurse took his hand and slipped it into the protective sleeve on the incubator. They all watched as he carefully reached in and touched her tiny fingers. He moved his hand so they curved over his.

To everyone’s surprise the tiny form stopped twitching. She was relaxed, calm. Napoleon laid is face against the plastic shield once more. The baby’s tiny eyes opened to small slits. He smiled at her.

"Hello Victoria," he said, "I’m you big brother, Napoleon."

The nurse made a small gasp.

She could have sworn that the baby smiled.

ONE YEAR LATTER…..

Napoleon worshiped his little sister. He loved to feed her and help take care of her. She was still very small and somewhat unresponsive, except when it came to Napoleon. She made no sounds like a baby usually does. Even when she cried it was mostly her facial expressions that let you know anything was wrong.

But her brother was patient with her, holding her when she cried, making her smile. And she was obviously crazy about him. He was her protector.

They had returned from her doctor’s appointment and Napoleon was in the nursery carefully rocking her in her swing. She looked at her brother and he smiled at her. The boy pressed his nose against hers and made all sorts of silly sounds. She grabbed his face and began to pat his cheeks. Napoleon laughed.

Even when she got a handful of his hair, he didn’t cry out. She was just a baby after all.

One night friends of the family came by to visit. They had a boy, Wilson, Napoleon’s age and another boy the same age as Victoria. Napoleon watched their baby roll around on its blanket. He listened to its gurgling noises and saw the baby get up on his knees and arms, rocking back and forth. Victoria was the same age but she didn’t do any of that stuff.

Napoleon went into his sister’s room and walked over to her playpen. She was just laying there looking off into space.

"Victoria," her brother cooed lovingly, "Victoria." His voice lilting.

She slowly turned her head and finally focused on the sound. The baby smiled.

"Is that all she does?" Wilson asked walking up to the pen.

Napoleon folded his arms over the rail and smiled at her.

"Pretty much," he said. He reached into the pen and touched her fingers.

"My little brother does more than that," Wilson said, sarcastically, "What is she stupid or something?"

Napoleon pushed the boy away and gave him a hard punch in the stomach.

"Don’t you ever say that again," Napoleon yelled.

In a flash he had the other boy pinned to floor. Wilson was a good three inches taller than him, but Napoleon held him down, his fist flying over and over into the other boy. Their parents heard the noise and came running into the room.

"Napoleon!" Arthur Solo shouted, grabbing his son.

He gave Napoleon a sharp jerk to calm him down. Wilson’s father grabbed his son and pulled him to his feet. The women came into the room.

"What is the meaning of this?" Arthur shouted.

"He called Victoria stupid," Napoleon shouted trying to get back to Wilson.

Wilson’s father gave his son two firm slaps on the backside.

Louise Solo began to cry. She turned and ran from the room, into her bedroom. Napoleon worked his way out of his father’s grasp and went to his mother. He climbed up on the bed next to her and put his arm over her shoulders.

"I’m sorry mother," he cried, "I didn’t mean to fight Wilson..But he shouldn’t have said that. Victoria is smart. Smarter than Wilson even. I’ll show him. Don’t cry..Please don’t cry."

She looked at her boy. She looked into his face. In his eyes, Victoria was perfect. She was his sister and that was all that was important. She didn’t know that Napoleon had heard what the doctor had told her earlier in the day.

Victoria had been born "blue". The cord had wrapped around her neck and cut off her oxygen when she was delivered. She would always be tiny, frail and probably wouldn’t develop mentally beyond the range of a two or three year old. She was going to need extensive care if she was going to survive.

"I don’t care what anybody says," Napoleon said his voice trembled, "She’ll show them all."

The bedroom door opened. His father stood there looking at him. The elder Solo gave his fingers a hard snap and he pointed to Napoleon’s room. The boy hugged his mother once more and got down from the bed. He walked slowly to the door, past his father and into his room.

"Arthur, don’t punish him for this," Louise begged her husband.

"He has to learn that he can’t go around beating up on people. It doesn’t matter if it’s right or wrong."

In a few minutes, the woman heard her husband’s hand connect six times with the bare skin of Napoleon’s behind. But the boy never cried out. Arthur came back into the room, showered and dressed for bed.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Louise thought she heard a voice. She got up and put on her robe as she walked out of the bedroom. She did hear something. She noticed Napoleon’s bedroom door was open. Looking in she was horrified to see he wasn’t there. She listened again. Louise walked to the door of Victoria’s room. It was partly open and she stopped to listen. She heard a small sniff. Looking in she saw Napoleon standing next to the crib, his one hand holding his sisters the other holding one of the bars.

"I don’t care," Napoleon said, "I don’t care how many spankings I get. I’ll kill anyone who ever says that about you again. I wish we could get away from here. Go to Grand-ma and Grand-pa’s house. You would like it up there. Big fields to play in. I bet you could walk if you had a bigger place to move around in. We could ride horses and play and no-one would make…" Napoleon began to cry. "I love you little sister."

Louise turned from the door, tears streaming down her cheeks. She put one hand to her breast the other over her mouth to muffle her crying. She looked back in the room. Napoleon had cried himself to sleep standing up beside the crib. His one arm was wrapped snuggly around the bars of the baby bed, His face pressed against the bars.

She started towards him when she noticed something strange. She turned on the small lamp near the door. Louise made a small gasp as she came closer.

Victoria was lying on her side! Her brother was holding one small hand, her other was against his hair. The baby was just laying there, her eyes open, looking at him. Their mother came closer afraid that the baby might have died, but she saw the tiny fingers contract and expand against the boys soft hair. Victoria smacked her lips a couple of times and began to fall asleep.

The woman pulled a study chair up beside the crib and helped Napoleon into it. And there he stayed the rest of the night. Still holding the baby’s hand.

Three weeks later it was Valentine’s Day.

Napoleon woke early and ran around the house dropping Valentine’s cards everywhere, one for his mother, one for his father, another for the nurse and of course, Victoria. His father thought it was ridiculous for a man to get a card from a child. But it didn’t dampen Napoleon’s spirit. His mother gave him a big hug and thanked him. She gave him a card and a kiss. He stood for a moment.

"What about Victoria?" he asked.

"She’s only a baby, sweetheart," she said.

Napoleon looked hurt.

"I’ll share mine," he said, "She has a valentine present for you and father. Sit down, please."

Louise sat down on the sofa. It took some prodding but she managed to get Arthur to sit as well. He was irritated by the whole thing. He had to leave for an appointment. He didn’t have time for this.

They watched as Napoleon spread a blanket out on the floor. The nurse brought Victoria in and laid her on her back on the blanket.

"Watch," Napoleon said, "This is a special Valentine."

He lay down on the blanket next to his sister. He said her name and she looked in the direction of the voice, finally finding her brother. Napoleon rolled over and said her name again. Louise watched astonished as the baby managed to roll over. She saw her son get up on his knees, his body resting against his elbows. He coaxed his sister softly over and over. The baby slowly raised her head and rocked back and forth on her stomach. Louise began to cry.

"Come on, Victoria," Napoleon said coaxing his sister, "You can do it..I know you can do it."

The baby rocked some more and managed to lift herself up on her arms.

"Wo-hoo!" Napoleon said throwing his arms up in triumph .

He sat back on his heels. He reached over and picked her up. Victoria sat on her knees and held her brother. She smiled as he lavished her with kisses. Her tiny hands patted his face.

"See, Mother. Did you see that? Did you see?" Napoleon asked, "She did it, father, she did it."

"Yes, very nice," Arthur said standing up, "I'll be home at four-thirty. We need to be at the Red & White Ball by six. See if you can get his hair to lie down."

Arthur put on his coat and went to his appointment. Louise turned back to her son.

Napoleon was sitting in the floor. He was holding Victoria, helping her stand. Her tiny hands mussed his hair and she would lean against him, her mouth open pressed to his face. It was her way of giving him a kiss. Louise could see the hurt look on her son's face.

"Why doesn't father like Victoria?" he said his voice trembled.

Louise looked up to see the nurse standing nearby. She had seen Napoleon working with the baby every day for hours on end. The nurse remembered how excited the boy got when she rolled over the first. You would have thought she had taken the first steps in outer space.

"He loves Victoria," Louise said getting down in the floor with her children, "He's just in a hurry this morning."

"No, he doesn't," Napoleon said as his sister grabbed a handful of his hair, "Just because he thinks she's not perfect. If he doesn't like her, then he doesn't like me either."

Napoleon’s head tilted as Victoria dug her tiny nails into his scalp.

"Napoleon," Louise looked at her son's expression, "Is she hurting you?"

"It’s alright," Napoleon said, "She's just a baby."

He reached up and gently loosened her fingers. Her hands began to hit the top of his head. He flinched but didn't say anything. Louise reached for the baby, but Napoleon held her tight. Their mother hugged both her children.

Christmas.

Victoria was almost two. Napoleon would be seven after the first of the year. Since February he had taught his sister to walk. Her little legs were frail and she had to wear braces and hold onto things, but she was walking. And she was always walking right behind Napoleon.

Her older brother had endured a lot in the past months. Fights with other kids in the neighborhood or the park, anytime someone made fun of his sister, he dealt with the situation in his own way. He had pretty much spent the entire summer unable to sit down from the spankings.

And even today, Christmas eve he had gotten into a fight with another boy in Macys who was picking on her. The other boy had been making fun of her and Napoleon tried to get him to stop. But when the bigger boy pushed her down, it was the last straw. This time it wouldn't be easy to hide from his father. His eye had been punched and was a lovely shade of black and blue.

By now his father had had enough. He grabbed Napoleon roughly by the arm and dragged him to his room. Louise followed him. Victoria wobbled around the room trying to find Napoleon.

There was a loud snap and for the first time Napoleon cried out. Victoria jumped at the sound. The leather belt stung as it came down again in his bare backside. The boy’s eyes filled with tears and he bit down on his lip trying not to cry.

"Arthur, that’s enough," Louise shouted, "Don't spank him anymore."

The belt came down one more time. Arthur laid the boy on his bed. Napoleon's blistered behind was fire red and stung. He reached back and tried to pull up his underpants but it hurt too much. Arthur put his belt back on.

"Anymore fighting, young man and you won't be able to sit down for a year. And you can forget about any presents. Now or on your birthday."

Victoria wobbled over to the bed. She saw Napoleon's hand hanging over the edge of the bed. She could hear him crying. The baby took hold of his fingers and pulled.

Arthur stopped at the door and looked at his wife. She started to go in the room. He took hold of her arm.

"No Louise," he said, "Napoleon has to learn.."

"Poley."

Arthur looked at his wife.

"Napoleon has to learn that..."

"Poley."

"What is that?" Arthur asked irritated at being interrupted. He and his wife looked towards the bed.

Napoleon had pulled his sister up on the bed. She was laying against her brother, her hands softly patting his head.

"Poley," she said slowly the word broken, "Poley...Poley.."

Louise pushed her husband aside and ran to the bed. He son’s face buried in the blanket as he tried not to cry. Victoria clutched at her brother.

"Poley.......Poley...."

He had taught her to talk. All she could say at the time was "Poley", the closest she could come to Napoleon.

Louise took care of her son's sore backside. She got him into his pajamas and brought him some chocolate milk. She was going to make him some cocoa, but that was too difficult to drink through a straw. Victoria had fallen asleep on bed next to him.

"When did you teach her to talk?" his mother asked.

"We've been working on it for a couple of weeks," he said, sniffing back his tears.

He finished his milk and his mother tucked him in. But when she tried to pick the baby up, she found her tiny fingers dug tight into the boy’s pajama shirt. Napoleon looked at his mother. She pulled another blanket up over her children and tucked them in. She kissed them both and walked to the door. She switched off the light.

"Merry Christmas Napoleon," she whispered blowing her son a kiss.  

Despite all her accomplishments, Victoria still needed constant care. She was always sick. In and out of the hospital, twenty-four hour care at home. And even with a nurse, the strain on their mother was getting to be too much, the demands of her husband’s job, the travelling, caring for Napoleon and Victoria.

Napoleon had started school and Victoria cried from the time he left in the morning until the time he came home. When Arthur complained about the noise, his wife told him it would pass once she got use to it. He told her it was a lot of nonsense, it was clear that she had let Napoleon spoil the child. Who was the parent, them or Napoleon?

One afternoon, Napoleon came home from school. His jacket was torn, his hair mussed and dirty. Louise saw a small smudge of blood under her son’s nose. One of his pants legs was ripped and his leg was bruised and scraped. He had been fighting again. She knelt down next to him.

"Napoleon," she said, "You want to tell me what happened?"

He turned away his face. She watched him rub his shirt sleeve across his nose.

"Some of the bigger kids where saying bad things about Victoria," he said, "Then they started calling me names. I don’t care what they call me…But they can’t pick on her."

He suddenly collapsed in her arms. Louise called the nurse. They got Napoleon up and bathed him. His little body was bruised all over. Into his pajamas and tucked into his bed. While the nurse tried to get him to drink some warm tea, Louise called the school.

"I’m sorry Mrs. Solo, but boys will be boys you know. And the fact is, children will pick on other children who aren’t….ah..well..um..aren’t the same as they are. And one as hothead as your Napoleon…."

"Hot-Headed!" she shouted at the principal thru the phone, "Napoleon is the least hotheaded person I know. He was defending his sister, who can’t defend herself. Will the other children’s parents be notified about the fight?"

"I don’t see the need to," the Principal said, "I have already reprimanded the other boys and told them to lay off your boy…Mrs. Solo?.....Hello….Mrs. Solo are you there?"

Later that evening, Louise spoke to her husband. Arthur was angry that Napoleon had been in yet another scrap. He looked at his wife.

"Louise, we need to make a decision," he said, "You are killing yourself trying to take care of both of the children. If we can’t get Napoleon under control…."

"Under control?" she said, "Napoleon is the best child in the world. He worships Victoria and for whatever reason, deep down he idolizes you, even though you push him aside. He tries, he really, really tries not to get into these fights, but the other children are so cruel…." She broke down into tears.

Arthur Solo was a complete loss. He was always so ‘together" and "in charge" but somewhere along the line he had forgotten how to be human. His skills as a diplomatist were unparallel, but his parenting and husbandly skills left much to be desired. He wasn’t sure what to do as his wife cried. He reached over and touched her shoulder. He made a heavy sigh.

"Napoleon has two months of school left," he finally said, "I’ll arrange for a tutor to cover that time. When schools over, you, he and Victoria should go up to your parents place for awhile. Get them out of the city."

Louise looked at him. He reached up and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She kissed her husband on the cheek. He looked at her. She smiled at him. For the first time in a long time, he saw not his wife, but the same beautiful, vivacious woman he had fallen in love with so long ago. And for the first time in a long, long time, their night was filled with passion.

Arthur was right. Her parents owned a farm in upstate New York. The fresh air and wide open fields were just what the children needed.

Louise sat on the front porch and watched her children playing happily in the warm grass. Napoleon was growing bigger and stronger. It was nothing at all for him to hold his sister on his back and run circles around the house and barn. Victoria was growing stronger as well.

Her brother weaned her off the braces and soon her little legs began to have a healthy shade of pink. She was still not steady but gave it that old Solo try. Their grand-father had rigged up a special harness for Napoleon to wear, and with Victoria nestled safely in it, holding tight to her brother, he could take her for a pony ride around the farm.

It was a glorious summer.

But something strange was happening. When they returned to New York, a tutor came everyday to school Napoleon.

The coming holidays were prepared and carried out in the grandest fashion he had ever known. Both sets of Grand-parents came in for Thanksgiving and for the first time ever, both of the children were taken to Broadway to see the parade. Christmas came in with tons of presents and everyone in a festive mood. Napoleon wasn’t forced to attend any of his Father’s diplomatic functions as he had been accustomed to before. Instead he got to stay at home and be with his sister, reading her stories and playing.

New Years Eve. And Victoria’s third birthday.

Three years old physically, but her mental development had stopped around one and a half. She had added only one new word to her vocabulary, Vic-Vic, the closest she could get to Victoria. Napoleon felt sad sometimes because that was all she could say.

Louise had walked into the partly open doorway of Victoria’s room and watched as Napoleon stared into his sisters eyes. He was on his knees next to the playpen and she saw him gently hold her face. His eyes took in her every feature. It took a few seconds, but Victoria’s focus found her brother.

"I know you’re in there, Vic-Vic," he said his voice trembled, "Why can’t I get you out?..I’m scared..I’m scared they might…" He began to cry. "I’m scared they might take you away."

The girl pressed her mouth against her brother’s head and carefully patted his face. She wrapped her arms tight around his head and laid her face against his soft black hair. Victoria’s mouth was moving but no words came out. Napoleon slid his arms around his sister and held her tight.

Arthur Solo walked up to his wife and looked into the room. She turned and led her husband away, tears streaming down her face.

"What’s wrong?" he asked.

"He knows, Arthur," she cried, "I don’t know how…But Napoleon knows…."

Arthur held his wife close and let her cry.

Easter.

April and for the first time in years, it was fairly warm and no rain. The Solo’s took their children to Gramercy Park for the afternoon. Napoleon was glad he didn’t have to wear short pants anymore with his suits. He helped his sister find the hidden eggs around the park. Louise had her children sit on the bench and took their picture. Napoleon was grinning from ear to ear, holding his sister’s hand. But Victoria sat with her head against his shoulder, her eyes sad as if she were lost. She wouldn’t smile. Even for Napoleon.

Just when everything was going so well, a couple of the other kids started picking on Victoria. They made faces and called her names. Napoleon put his arm round her shoulder and led her back towards their parents.

They were coming around the fountain when one of the bigger kids stepped out in front of them. They began to push and taunt Napoleon. One kid pushed him hard against the fountain. He watched as they shoved Victoria around calling her names and picking at her. She began to cry. But when her brother tried to get to her they held him back. One of the kids took some of the colored eggs from her basket and threw them at Napoleon. The others shouted and cheered.

The noise however drew the attention of the parents. Arthur, Louise and the other parents ran towards the fountain and the noise.

People were grabbing their children’s wrist, wrenching the colored eggs out of their hands. They pulled them back to find Napoleon laying on the ground, his forehead bruised and bits of brightly colored shell on his face and clothes. Arthur grabbed his son.

"Napoleon!...Napoleon are you alright?" he said frantically. Napoleon’s head limped forward and he shook as he came back around.

"Victoria!" he yelled trying to get out of his father’s grasp.

Louise screamed. Napoleon ran over to his sister.

Victoria was lying curled up in a tight ball on the grass. Her beautiful new dress torn and dirty, one of her black patent-leather shoes was gone, later found in the fountain. Her arms were bruised and scratched, her eyes staring blankly out into space. The child was trembling so hard, it looked as if she was in the throes of a seizure.

Napoleon took hold of her. The child screamed and clawed at him, her tiny nails scratching his face leaving a large gash on his forehead. But he still held on. He sat down and pulled her close pressing her face against his shoulder. His voice began to calm her down and she finally stopped fighting.

"It’s okay Vic-Vic," he said softly, rocking back and forth, "It’s okay..I have you. They won’t hurt you again."

One of the other men ran across the street to call an ambulance.

June.

Napoleon and Victoria sat in the backseat of the car. Since the incident at Easter, she was terrified to be anywhere her brother wasn’t. She hadn’t spoken a word, not even to her brother. She held tight to his hand. He put his other arm around her shoulder, gave it a squeeze and smiled at her. They were out in the country again. Napoleon looked out the window.

"Is this a new way to Grand-ma and Grand-pa’s house?" he asked.

"We’re not going there, Napoleon," his father said, "We’re going…someplace else."

Louise held her hand to her throat afraid her son would hear her crying. Arthur reached over and gave her other hand a gentle pat. She felt him softly squeeze her fingers. Napoleon suddenly felt a sharp pain in his stomach.

They turned down an old dirt road with large open fields on each side. Just ahead was a large majestic looking red brick house, with a high brick wall all around it. Napoleon let his sister go and looked out at the imposing structure. He saw a large sign on the wall near the iron gates. He began to shake his head.

"No Father, no," he shouted, "Mother please no don’t let him.."

Louise broke into sobs. She leaned forward and held her hands to her face.

Napoleon grabbed Victoria and held her tight. The little girl sensed that something was wrong. Her fingers touched her brother’s face. Her sad eyes looked at him.

The car pulled up in front of the house and a pretty nurse walked out to meet them. Arthur got out and came around the car. He helped Louise our and tried to steady her.

"Welcome to Crestwood," the young nurse said, "You must be the Solo’s."

They heard the back car door open.

"Looks like we have a problem," the nurse said pointing.

Napoleon had climbed out of the back; Victoria wrapped snuggly against his back. He was running as fast as he could towards the large iron gates. But two interns were waiting. The boy stopped, looked quickly around for another exit. There was no-where to go. Reluctantly, Napoleon turned back to the house, still carrying his sister on his back.

Hours passed. It was time to go.

Napoleon held his sister and cried.

"I want to stay too," he said, "If she has to stay, I want to stay. She needs me."

"Napoleon," Arthur said, "You are only making things worse..Let go of Victoria and stop this nonsense."

Louise was already in the car, crying so hard she was almost ill. She could hear Napoleon’s screams as he begged to be left with his sister.

Strangely enough, with all the screaming and crying Victoria had not made a sound. She looked at her brother.

Napoleon felt his sister’s hands give his hair a soft tug. She pressed her mouth against the top of his head. He looked at her and kissed her cheek, his lip quivering.

Arthur finally pulled his son away and took him to the car. Napoleon’s face was red from crying, his voice hoarse from screaming for his sister. He rolled down the car window and reached out.

"Vic-Vic!" he shouted as the car pulled away, "Vic-Vic…I love you Vic-Vic." He collapsed from sheer exhaustion, his tear-streaked face laying on the door, one hand hanging limp out the open window.

"Vic-Vic…" he quietly cried, coughing as he fought for his voice, "Victoria…"

He fell asleep.

The nurse was holding the little girl in her arms. Victoria stretched her hand out towards the rapidly disappearing car. She saw the child’s fingers open and close slowly.

A single tear fell on the girl’s cheek.

"Poley..love..Poley."


MKRichards
MKRichards
Latest page update: made by MKRichards , May 9 2011, 5:23 AM EDT (about this update About This Update MKRichards Edited by MKRichards

4 words added

view changes

- complete history)
More Info: links to this page
Started By Thread Subject Replies Last Post
Anonymous Brotherly Love 0 May 1 2011, 8:20 AM EDT by Anonymous
 
Thread started: May 1 2011, 8:20 AM EDT  Watch
This story should have a warning :"Please have box of Kleenex on hand thoughout!" Simply beautiful. A very delicate subject handled wonderfully. Such a stong child who becomes a strong mature man. And the last line was a real heart wrencher. She learned the most important word in the world .

Bless you.

Kelly
LA/CA
7  out of 7 found this valuable. Do you?    

Anonymous  (Get credit for your thread)


Showing 1 of 1 threads for this page

Related Content

  (what's this?Related ContentThanks to keyword tags, links to related pages and threads are added to the bottom of your pages. Up to 15 links are shown, determined by matching tags and by how recently the content was updated; keeping the most current at the top. Share your feedback on WikiFoundry Central.)