Charity could feel Evan’s warmth long before she was fully awake. It radiated in steady waves through the massive arm that still pinned her gently to the teen’s chest. Evan stirred, sniffling, groaning, shifting under the blanket Jean had tucked around her earlier. Her breathing had grown rough again, uneven with congestion, and her skin, even against Charity’s cheek, felt flushed and damp.
Then came movement. The world tilted.
Charity clung instinctively to the folds of Evan’s sweatshirt as the girl groaned herself upright and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
“Ugh… I need tea,” Evan mumbled, her voice scratchy, her breath hot with sleep.
Charity barely had time to right herself before they were in motion. Evan cradled her loosely against her ribs, less a protective hold than a thoughtless press, like an accessory clutched in passing. They moved out of the bedroom and down the stairs, the thunder of each footfall sending soft reverberations through Charity’s bones.
In the living room, Evan collapsed onto the oversized couch with a dramatic sigh, pulling a fleece throw blanket over her legs. Charity felt the plush fabric press against her back, sandwiching her between the blanket and Evan’s side. It was stiflingly warm, humid, even. Evan shifted and repositioned her like a comfort item, not unkindly, just… instinctively.
And then Jean appeared again, her presence like a sudden wind change. Measured. Composed. The kind of calm that made Charity sit up a little straighter despite herself.
“How’s my patient?” Jean asked softly.
“Alive,” Evan rasped. “Barely.”
Jean walked past the back of the sofa, her arms folded, giving her daughter a once-over before her eyes fell on Charity. “And how about my nurse?”
Charity blinked and gave a faint nod.
“You’ve done a good job today,” Jean said, and she sounded like she meant it. “Wait here.”
She returned a moment later with a large square of paper towel folded like a placemat, and something on top.
A single piece of white chocolate raspberry bark, neatly broken into a triangle.
She placed it gently on the coffee table in front of Charity, who stared at it with wide eyes. It was… real food. Human food. And hers.
“For your help,” Jean said. “Keep her comfortable. I know she gets clingy when she’s not feeling well. Your little stomach should keep this down.”
Then, softer, to Evan: “You’ve got a good one.”
Evan didn’t respond, just coughed into the blanket and mumbled something incoherent.
Charity stepped forward and touched the edge of the chocolate. It was cool. Real. She looked back at Jean, who nodded once and disappeared into the kitchen.
She broke off a shard with both hands. It snapped like tempered glass. The scent, tart fruit and creamy vanilla, wafted up, decadent and foreign. Her stomach, despite the pellet regimen, fluttered with remembered hunger.
She took a bite.
Sweetness bloomed across her tongue like a memory. Her eyes prickled.
Her body responded faster than her thoughts. She felt herself lean into the experience, into the warmth of Evan’s side, the soft scratch of the blanket, the melting sugar on her tongue. Gratitude sparked in places she hadn’t realized were hungry.
Not just for the treat.
But for being seen. For being given something because she had done well.
Because she was useful.
She hated that part. Hated that it felt good. That she had learned to want that feeling.
Evan stirred beside her, shifting again, her hand seeking Charity out like a child looking for a stuffed animal in the dark. Fingers landed on her and curled gently around her middle.
“Still here,” Evan mumbled, voice thick.
Charity nodded. Not that Evan would see it.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Because where else would she be?
Evan shifted again with a congested moan, dragging the blanket up to her chin and pulling Charity closer in the process, her fingers now cradling the Little with absentminded pressure, as if Charity were a plush toy tucked under her collarbone.
The chocolate was still on Charity’s tongue, the last traces of raspberry melting slow like guilt and comfort in equal measure.
“Charizard…” Evan murmured, breath warm and sour, “can you scratch my shoulder? Under the hoodie…”
Charity moved automatically, trained by now to understand commands phrased as whimpers. She moved underneath the hoodie. Moving the coarse fleece lining and which created a cave like expierence underneath Evan’s hoodie. She reached upward until her palms found the clammy skin of Evan’s shoulder. She scratched lightly, more like brushing, and Evan hummed in something like relief before sinking deeper into the couch cushions.
“Don’t leave,” Evan added, half-slurred. “You’re helping…”
Charity remained pressed to her like a living talisman.
The door creaked again.
Jean’s steps were soft, practiced. Charity recognized the cadence now, firm heels on wood, then a pause, like she was assessing the room before speaking. The scent of lemon cleaner and subtle perfume followed her.
“She’s still hot,” Jean murmured to herself as she leaned over Evan’s massive form. Her hand brushed her daughter’s forehead, then slid a fresh, cool cloth onto the side table. “I’ll swap it out in another hour.”
Her gaze flicked down, catching Charity in profile, still tucked against the sick girl’s side, arms outstretched, fingers dutifully working in tiny soothing circles under Evan’s hoodie seam.
“You’re a good helper,” Jean said softly, crouching to get more on Charity’s level. “You always are when it really counts.”
Charity didn’t respond, but her posture straightened.
Jean’s voice lowered, as if the next words were not for Evan’s ears, even if Evan wasn’t truly awake. “I notice, you know. Even when she’s too out of it to say thank you, I see how hard you’re working.”
Charity glanced up, eyes wide, unsure if this was a kindness or a test.
Jean reached forward, slowly, and brushed a stray strand of hair from Charity’s forehead with the back of one finger. The touch was surprisingly gentle, practiced, like someone used to handling small things with care.
“I meant what I said,” Jean continued. “About earning treats. But it’s not just that. There’s value in helping. In being needed. In giving comfort when someone can’t take care of themselves.”
Charity opened her mouth to speak, then stopped. Her words weren’t required. And in truth, she wasn’t sure what she would have said. Something about how it felt less like kindness and more like roleplay. Like costume therapy.
But Jean’s eyes stayed steady.
“You’ve changed,” she said simply. “It’s not a bad thing. It’s just… where you are now.”
Charity’s chest tightened. Something in her rebelled at that, even as her body leaned further into Evan’s heat, instinctively offering what she could. Her shoulder muscles ached from the awkward angle, but she didn’t stop scratching. Not when Evan had asked. Not when Jean had praised her.
Because even now, even like this, approval hit like sunlight.
Jean stood again, slowly.
“I’ll be back to check in soon. If she starts sweating again, use the cloth.”
She turned to go, but hesitated in the doorway.
“You’re doing well, Charity. Don’t forget that.”
Evan mumbled something incoherent and twitched in her sleep, her thumb grazing the hem of Charity’s top as if seeking further contact.
Charity exhaled slowly, still pressed to skin that smelled faintly of sickness and sleep and teenage perfume. The sweat was back already, beading along Evan’s collarbone, where Charity’s arms rested.
She went to get the cloth.
Not because she was told to.
But because, for now, this was what she did.
And because, somewhere between obedience and exhaustion, a new truth had begun to form, quiet and sharp:
That in this world, usefulness was safety.
And safety, sometimes, felt like love.
Man, this was such a great episode, and I love the interactions between Jean and Charity, as well as the dialogue about Charity’s transformation in more ways than one.
It was good in furthering charity’s character and her putting aspects of her past behind her even if it is because she is unable to act how she did before
Is the last chapter going to be in October 24 or 27 ?
Jean is my favourite behind McKenzie. What a lovely person who sees charity as a person but little rather than a little who used to be a person
I am with you, I enjoy Jean a lot. I hope her treatment of littles rubs off on Evan.
Its always interesting to see who people click with. Although her character arc is just Evan’s mom and thats how she is used. Just want full transparency so as to not misrepresent how she will be used in the series and universe.
I’m a pessimist. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. 😬
Understandable given the smallara universe as a whole.
I think the picture is great. It shows the love that Evan has for Charity and how charity has given in to having feelings for Evan and caring for her as family.
I kinda thought you would enjoy this picture when i was making it based on your comments.
A) Charity is a better little then she was a human, but I am guessing that could be said for many people in the chapters.
B) I think as people in the universe get older, it will be interesting to see who will create little family’s. One of my bets would be Evan making a little family for Charity. I love parts of stories that build family’s because I am a family man softy lol.
1) “Evan stirred, sniffling, groaning, shifting under the blanket Jean had tucked around her earlier. Her breathing had grown rough again, uneven with congestion, and her skin, even against Charity’s cheek, felt flushed and damp.” Poor Evan’s still sick
2) “How’s my patient?” “Alive, Barely.” I had sicknesses like that at Evan’s age, lol
3) “And how about my nurse? You’ve done a good job today. Wait here.” Checking in on Charity is also good/
4) “ It was… real food. Human food. And hers.” Jean is definitely a good grandguardain
5) “Gratitude sparked in places she hadn’t realized were hungry. Not just for the treat. But for being seen. For being given something because she had done well. Because she was useful. She hated that part. Hated that it felt good. That she had learned to want that feeling.” Good development for her, but I can see why she wouldn’t like it, lol
6) “Still here,” Evan mumbled, voice thick.” Damn, Evan’s cute in this one.
7) “Don’t leave, You’re helping…” So vulnerable, so sweet.
8) “I notice, you know. Even when she’s too out of it to say thank you, I see how hard you’re working.” If I didn’t know what the community would become, I’d almost think this was too good for Charity.
9) “You’ve changed It’s not a bad thing. It’s just… where you are now.” Does Jean know what Charity was really like?
10) “And because, somewhere between obedience and exhaustion, a new truth had begun to form, quiet and sharp: That in this world, usefulness was safety. And safety, sometimes, felt like love.” She’s learned not just the rules of her new life, but of the world in general, (for people not born into wealthy families)
1) Yup, being a sicky sick is no fun. Its been the first time i’ve depicted someone being sick so its been new ground for me.
2) I always hated being sick like that. I know your was probably more severe then Evans.
3) Making all the rounds.
4) She is. She is trying her best.
5) especially someone like charity with her sensibilities would be harder to accept
6) Cuteness Overload, pulling out all the stops.
7)its aways good to feel wanted and needed regardless of size.
8) How charity fits into the community is sitll elusive. Bits and pieces are known but not the full picture.
9) Yes, she is familar with what charity was like. So she can see the change.
10) agreed, shes learning what 99% of the rest of the world had to know
Is the last chapter going to be in October 24 or 27 ?