A Normal Mission

3

When Jim awoke in his bed, he nearly forgot the turmoil he had faced the past few years. To be in this room was to be in a time capsule of his teen years before he had been forced to give that life up. The thing that returned him to the present day was when a green figure crossed his bleary vision. It took only a moment for him to process that this was Strickler and he was certainly not living the life he'd left behind, despite his surroundings.
Jim climbed from his bed, trying to shake the vague feelings of betrayal, though he wasn't entirely sure who he felt had betrayed him. Strickler must have heard him moving about because the changeling appeared at his open doorway and rasped his knuckles twice on the door frame, "may I come in?"
Jim nodded, rubbing his eyes to not only clear his vision but his head as well. He had never been skilled at suppressing emotions and he feared the former teacher would read his features without so much as a breath of hesitation. Unfortunately for Jim, this was entirely correct. Sometimes Jim hated how often he was right, though perhaps that's because he was usually right about the unpleasant things.
Walter approached him, a glint in his eyes making it obvious he had already deconstructed Jim's issues that even he found unsolvable.
"I imagine it's a bit... Awkward." Something about the way he annunciated 'awkward' made Jim smile, reminiscing on his early days as the trollhunter. Despite his change in form, Strickler was the same history teacher he had looked up to when he was much more naive. Although he'd never admit it, Jim still felt some adoration and even solidarity with the man he had previously wished dead.
"It's pretty weird." Jim rubbed his three-fingered hand along the scruff of his neck, "I see you and Mom are really.."
Strickler gave him a moment to continue but Jim had fallen silent, unsure what to say. Despite this, the changeling nodded knowingly, "it is not a scenario I ever would have expected either. But I can't say I dislike it."
Jim chuckled softly, his blue eyes roaming the walls to avoid looking directly at Strickler, "well, Mom seems happy and... You two make an okay team."
"I appreciate your acceptance and can only hope I've earned as much." Walter shifted, Jim, realizing he was holding a small, stuffed duck in one hand. Something about the absurdity of it made Jim let out a genuine laugh, startling Strickler.
Strickler's face went blank in confusion as Jim's laughter continued before he realized that the cause of this outburst was the toy he had nearly forgotten he was holding.
He raised the duck to his face, giving a toothy grin to both Jim and the toy, "this is Wally's favourite toy. Unfortunately, he got it rather dirty during breakfast. I'm just taking it to the wash so the applesauce isn't a permanent condition."
"I see. So, you're a real dad now, huh?" Jim leaned into his propped up pillows.
"I'd like to think so." Strickler looked at the duck, as though for approval, before dropping his arm back to his side, "I really should wash this. Join us for breakfast when you want."
Jim nodded and with that, Strickler was gone, clutching his prize for Wally. 
There wasn't really a purpose for Jim attending breakfast as he couldn't eat the microwaved tarts his siblings did. The only reason he had to participate was the guilt he felt if he didn't. Each time he saw his siblings, they had grown significantly and struggled to recall who he was. He couldn't blame them as they were only three and he was so rarely there to visit. It was after the fourth time Wally asked his name during Christmas the previous year over a Skype call that he'd decided it was time he took more agency in these children's lives.
When Wally saw him this morning, the child excitedly announced, a bit clearer now, "BLUE JIM!" at the loudest volume he could and Zeze cheered him on with applause and giggles.
Their instant recognition warmed Jim to the core, an unintentional smile spreading across his face. Whilst neither Wally nor Zeze had known him before his trollish rebirth, they were both very charmed by his steel blue hue.
Barbara whisked into the kitchen, two tarts wrapped in paper towels and clutched in either hand.
"G'morning, kiddos." She placed the tarts in front of the little familiars who gripped them immediately despite their obvious heat.
"Jim, I'd make you breakfast too but.." his mother trailed off, her vibrant eyes looking to the side as if searching for an eloquent way to acknowledge his inability to stomach human food. Jim spared her the trouble, using the very real reason, "you're awful at cooking?"
Her lips twinged a bit as she repressed a smile of relief, "I think I'm getting better."
"Maybe you haven't had good food in a while." Jim stood from the table, "I'll go make something."
"Oh, Jim, no-" she began to protest but her argument caught in her throat when he flashed a smile and said the magic words: "You want an omelet?"