Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Earlier today, 8-year-old Lando Norris– the son of British businessman Adam Norris and British Actress Cisca Norris disappeared in the dead of night.

The boy was last seen with his nanny entering the Norris’s large estate in Beverly Hills, when the police received a call later at 9 pm.

The distressed voice of his Nanny– Natalia Rogers– could be heard, begging for help as she screamed for the missing boy.

Transcript of call:

Operator: 911, what’s your emergency?

Caller: Help! He’s gone! *sobbing* He’s gone!

Operator: Ma’am, I need you to calm down.

Caller: *Sobbing hysterically* I-I c-can’t! He’s gone! Oh god. This can’t be happening.

Operator: Ma’am, please, calm down. Can you tell me who’s gone?

Caller: L-lando. T-the boy I nanny. H-he– oh god, oh god…

Operator: Ma’am–

Caller: I-I put him to bed an hour ago, *sobbing intensifies* and now he’s gone. Someone took him. Please! Send help! There’s so much blood!

At this time, police believe foul play to be involved as a window was found broken in the young boy’s bedroom, and blood was found splattered against the broken shards and along the carpeted floors.

It is suspected that the boy is currently being held for ransom, as his parents are of a high social status with millions of dollars to their name.

The police have asked those who may have seen or heard anything to come forward, as it is crucial for Lando’s survival to find him before time runs out.

Published: 11/11/2011

Oscar let out an exhausted curse as he sidestepped an uncovered needle littering the sidewalk, nearly dropping his filled-to-the-brim bag of groceries.

“Fuck,” he breathed, having to adjust his hold on the bag and press his phone closer to his ear with his shoulder.

“You good?” Logan’s voice came from the other side of the phone, worry taking over the tone that had previously been joking.

“Yeah,” Oscar replied with a heavy sigh. “Some dickhead left their used needle on the fucking sidewalk. Reckon they couldn’t be arsed to actually pick up after themselves.” He gave an annoyed huff, eyeing the pile of suspicious-looking trash near the front entrance. “Nearly stepped on it.”

“Jesus Christ," Logan hissed. “I’m serious, Oscar, you need to get out of that hellhole.”

Oscar let out a humorless laugh. “Oh yeah? And go where? It’s the only place I can afford while paying for my Mum's treatments and for the girls to go to school,” he paused, his voice coming out in a soft whisper. “You know that.”

The line went quiet for a few seconds, and Oscar took that time to make his way over towards the staircase that would lead up to the third floor, where his tiny apartment resided.

He made sure to count the steps, skipping the fifth one as he always did since it was covered in so many cracks, he feared the slightest amount of extra weight would threaten to send the whole staircase crumbling to the floor.

When Logan let out a long breath, seemingly finally having come up with something to say, a loud yell echoed through the stairway, and Oscar moved against the left side of the stairs just in time to miss getting slammed to the ground by the array of limbs that was sent tumbling down it.

“FUCK!” The man who had just gone tumbling down the staircase and now lay sprawled at the bottom, exclaimed.

“You should know better, bitch,” A different man spat. He was standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at the other man in disgust.

Oscar pressed himself as close to the wall as he could get, and prayed the man wouldn’t notice him. Of course, he could never be so lucky.

“Piastri,” The man said with a nod of his head, eyeing Oscar up and down.

Oscar swallowed nervously before returning the nod. “H-hey, Tod,” he replied.

“What’re you doing out here so late?” The man– Tod asked. “It’s not safe to be out so late. Especially not for someone like you.”

Oscar couldn’t even be offended by the ‘someone like you’ comment; he knew Tod was right. It wasn’t safe for him to be out this late. Not when the neighborhood surrounding his apartment was crawling with gang members and drug dealers. And it wasn’t like Oscar was someone who just went unnoticed. His boyish features made him stand out like a sore thumb when surrounded by skinny crack addicts and ripped tattooed men.

“Just… groceries,” Oscar replied after a minute had passed and he still hadn’t responded.

Tod eyed him suspiciously for another moment before nodding his head slightly. “Alright,” he started. “Well, get on up to your apartment before you get involved in something you shouldn’t be.” He moved out of the way so Oscar could pass by him with ease. “You’re too good a boy for that.”

Oscar gave him a quick nod and hurried towards the door that would lead him onto the third floor. He was thankful it was Tod who had found him, and not one of the others. Tod was always nice to him.

“Who was that?” Logan’s frantic voice rang through the empty hall, making Oscar jump. “What just happened, and why did he just call you a ‘good boy’?”

Oscar let out a sigh, shifting the bag still tightly gripped between his hands, and reaching into his pocket for his set of keys. He found what he was looking for and shifted the bag once more so he could unlock it. The door opened with a squealing creak, and Oscar let out a sigh of relief when he didn’t find the place trashed or anything missing.

“Helloooo?” Logan’s voice came again. “Oscar, where the fuck are you!?”

“Jesus,” Oscar mumbled. “I’m here, I’m here.”

He moved towards his sad excuse for a kitchen and placed his bag of groceries down onto the counter before grabbing his phone and turning it on speaker so he could hear Logan speak while he put things away.

“The hell did you go?” Logan asked furiously.

“Had to unlock the door,” Oscar replied, staring at the carton of milk he’d pulled from his fridge and giving it a sniff, before reeling backwards in disgust. “Dammit,” he whispered, tossing the now closed carton towards his sink, where it bounced off of and came crashing back towards the ground. He waited with bated breath to see if the cap would pop off, but thankfully God showed mercy, and it stayed twisted tightly on.

Logan let the silence settle for another moment before he spoke again. “You alright?”

Oscar let out a long-suffering sigh and finished packing away his scarce groceries before replying. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

Logan hummed in reply. “Did that man…”

“He’s my neighbor, Logs. He just wanted to make sure I didn’t make a habit of staying out late in a place like this. Not that I would.”

“God no,” Logan huffed. “You’d end up dead in a ditch somewhere if you did.”

Oscar ignored his comment in favor of soothing some of Logan’s other worries. “He’s a good one. He looks out for me.”

“That’s–that’s good,” Logan replied, unsure. Then, he started up the same argument they had at least once a week. “Why don’t you just come live with me?”

“Because you live in a dorm at a college I don’t attend?” Oscar deadpanned, never sure where Logan’s logic for that solution came from.

“Yeah,” Logan started, and Oscar could already tell he wouldn’t like where this was going. “But you could stay with my Mom and Dad. They love you–”

“No,” Oscar said instantly, cutting Logan off. “I won’t do that to them.”

“You wouldn’t be doing anything to them!” Logan insisted, and Oscar could imagine the way he had thrown his hands up in frustration and had begun pacing around the room. “They worry, y’know. They always ask about you.”

“I know,” Oscar replied with a sigh. He’d made his way over towards his bedroom and had taken one look at his depressingly bare and unmade bed before dragging himself towards his bathroom, where he stared at himself in the mirror for another minute. “I don’t want them to worry, but I don’t need their handouts.”

“But they aren’t handouts!” Logan exclaimed, and Oscar could hear the frustration begin to fully settle into his voice. This conversation always ended the same way. “You’re family, Oscar. All of you. Hattie, Edie, and Mae included. They want to help, so let them.”

Oscar bit back the retort about not needing help that sat on his tongue. One look around his pitiful apartment, and it was clear that he did, but he would never accept it. He couldn’t live with himself if he did.

“And I appreciate it, Logan. I really do. But it’s my job to take care of them.”

“Oscar–” Logan began, but Oscar interrupted him before he could even really start.

“I’m all they got, Logan. You know that. And besides, it’s not all bad. I’ve got a roof over my head, some food in my fridge, and a decently steady income that can both pay for my mum’s medical bills, but also help Hattie and Edie get into a decent school. Mae’s still got a couple years left of high school, but she’s got a job now that pays pretty well, y’know, minimum wage and all that.” Oscar chose not to mention the fact that his source of ‘steady income’ previously mentioned was now no longer a thing. He’d been let go this morning from his job as a waiter at the local diner. Apparently, complaining about his ass being grabbed by older men one too many times was ‘bad for the business’ and they ‘couldn’t risk allegations’. Allegations, my ass, he thought bitterly. Like the fucking manager wasn’t sleeping with over half of the barely legal girls.

The thought alone made him uncomfortable, imagining his younger sisters in those poor girls' places, but it wasn’t his place to say anything. The diner was close enough to his apartment that the same rules still applied. You either minded your own business or you risked being killed. And despite popular belief, Oscar actually valued his life, thank you very much.

“I hate that diner,” Logan said, pulling Oscar out of his thoughts and where he had been ignoring Logan’s rambling for the past few minutes. “It’s too close to your apartment for you to be safe.”

Oscar couldn’t exactly disagree with him, so he changed the topic instead. “I’m already looking for something else. I look every night, but it’s not like just anywhere is willing to hire someone who’s only got a high school diploma to their name.”

Logan grumbled something incoherent, and Oscar knew he’d messed up. “And that’s another thing, if you lived with my parents, then maybe you could actually go to college like you always wanted. What happened to dreaming of becoming an engineer?”

Oscar swallowed down the fury he felt crawling up the back of his throat. Logan just didn’t get it. “You said it yourself,” Oscar replied in a voice void of emotion. “That was a dream. And that dream hasn’t been something reachable in a long time.”

Logan didn’t seem to have anything to say in response to that, and Oscar was tired and ready to go to bed.

Or more likely, spend the next three hours job searching as he tried not to think about how quickly his life had all turned to shit. If only his father hadn’t died, and his mother hadn’t gotten sick. Maybe then he could have continued karting like he’d done as a kid, and gone on to be something great. Or maybe– more realistically– he could have gone to college like all his mates and become an engineer. At least that way, he wouldn’t have to be living paycheck to paycheck in a shitty apartment. Maybe then, he’d have enough money to fly back to Australia and see his grandparents one last time. They’d moved to America because that’s where the best treatments for his mother’s illness were supposed to be. He just hadn’t known that by coming here, he’d practically guaranteed that he’d never leave.

Letting out another sigh, really trying to sell his exhaustion– which wasn’t a hard thing to do– Oscar said, “Logs, I appreciate the concern, but I think I’m just gonna take a shower and head to bed. I’m exhausted.”

There was an awkward moment of silence where Oscar was sure Logan wouldn’t let him leave, but thankfully, all he did was mutter something too quietly under his breath for Oscar to hear and said, “Alright, talk to you tomorrow. Get some sleep and remember I love you.”

Oscar rolled his eyes at the ongoing joke Logan had created when they were back in high school, where he’d end the call by pretending Oscar was his husband going off to war.

“Yeah, yeah,” Oscar said through an amused huff. “Love you too.”

“Call me if you need something,” Logan added, before Oscar could hang up. “I’m serious. Give me a call or even a text, and I’ll be there. No matter what.”

Oscar swallowed thickly at the implication. He knew Logan worried and that the high crime rate in his neighborhood often had him sending texts throughout the night to let him know that he was alive, but something about the way Logan had said it made Oscar’s skin crawl.

“What did you hear?” Oscar asked, his voice stern and his shoulders hiked up towards his ears.

“Nothing,” Logan said, quickly. Too quickly.

“Logan,” Oscar said in warning. He was tired and didn’t feel like playing games with the other boy tonight.

“It’s– just something Verstappen said. It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“What did Max say?” Oscar asked, alarm bells ringing in the back of his head. Logan hesitated before answering, which only made his chest tighten painfully as anxiety surged through him.

“He just… he said a guy who’s in his architectural engineering class has a younger brother who lives out there, and that he’d gotten jumped a few nights ago.” Oscar’s throat tightened at Logan’s words. “I just worry the same thing might happen to you. There’s not good people out there, which is why again, I think you should really consider moving and taking up my parents' offer.”

Oscar felt anger flood his veins as Logan once again felt the need to bring up how he needed to move. It was as though their entire earlier conversation hadn’t even occurred.

“Alright,” Oscar replied in a clipped tone. “I’ll be safe.” He didn’t wait for an answer before clicking the ‘end call’ button and tossing his phone back onto the bathroom counter.

He stared at himself in the mirror for a few minutes, taking in his dark eye bags and messy hair. God, he looked awful. Like he hadn’t slept in a week. Which, to be honest, he hadn’t.

Letting out another sigh, he quickly turned away from the mirror and headed towards his shower, trying to push all thoughts of the boy Logan had mentioned out of his head.

It wasn’t like the news was groundbreaking or anything. People got jumped all the time in Oscar’s neighborhood. Hell, people were killed daily here.

Refusing to give it any further thought, Oscar turned the tap on the shower as hot as it would go, glancing down at his watch so he could time how long he had before the hot water shut off.

10 minutes. Great.

He stepped into the shower quickly, letting the hot spray cascade down his shoulders and back. This was his favorite part of the day. The ten minutes where he got some relative peace.

With the reminder of the time constraint, he made quick work of washing his hair, keeping track of the minutes going by as he did so.

3 minutes passed.

7 more to go.

He reached for his cheap bottle of body wash, letting out a frustrated grunt when a tiny squirt was all it produced. Fuck, he forgot to buy more. Resisting the urge to throw the now useless bottle to the floor, Oscar gently set it back down on the edge of the flimsy shower rack he had bought for his shower supplies, and quickly began to scrub down the rest of his body, mindful of the time he’d lost while staring at the empty bottle.

Once he was done with that, he felt his chest loosen, and like he could breathe again. Finally, the moment he had been waiting for.

5 minutes left, his brain reminded him, and he let himself just stand under the hot spray, his muscles relaxing as the scalding water pelted down on them.

He had about 3 more minutes of the actual hot water before it began to turn lukewarm and then ice cold.

With the reminder of his limited time, he slowly brought a hand down the expanse of his chest, letting his palm flatten over his nipple on its way down. It was muscle memory by now, and he didn’t even have to think about it as his hand wrapped around himself, and he began to move it.

A stuttered breath left his lips, and he closed his eyes as his hand moved faster, enjoying the mix of the pressure from his own palm and the spray of the heat.

He squeezed his eyes tighter as he tried to imagine someone else in the room with him. He pretended his hand was someone else's. Maybe that cute guy who’d come into the diner last week and only ordered a slice of apple pie. He’d been cute in a nerdy sort of way. The way Logan often described Oscar when trying to set him up with his college friends. He wasn’t exactly Oscar’s type, though.

Having been so wrapped up in his thoughts, Oscar hadn’t noticed the gradual change in water temperature until suddenly ice-cold spray was beating down on him.

“Fuck,” Oscar hissed, releasing himself and stumbling backwards, trying to escape the direct spray of ice water. He blindly reached for the handle and forcefully twisted it off, letting out a heaving breath once the spray turned off. “Can’t have nothing nice in this shithole,” he muttered, shoving the shower curtain aside and stepping out.

He tiredly reached for his towel and quickly dried off, wrapping it around his waist haphazardly and making his way back into his bedroom.

He left the bathroom light on so his bedroom was somewhat illuminated, and stumbled his way towards his bedside table where his shitty lamp stood, lamp shade crooked and tilting dangerously to the left.

He flicked it on with practiced movements, and dropped his towel onto the floor, making a mental note to grab it in the morning before he went off to work– oh wait, he’s jobless now.

With a heavy sigh, he grabbed a pair of boxers and a loose t-shirt and made his way towards his bed, stopping by the bathroom to turn off the light and grabbing his laptop off his desk on the way.

He crawled onto his bed and under his covers after checking to make sure no mice or spiders were hiding beneath them. He may be Australian, but he didn’t fuck with spiders.

Once he was settled, he grabbed his blue-light glasses from his bedside table, and opened his laptop, immediately being hit with the brightest fucking screen he had ever seen.

Squinting, he quickly lowered the brightness, letting out a breath of relief when he was no longer being blinded.

He debated whether or not he should finish what he started earlier in the shower, his stomach throbbing with a low want that had his mind fuzzy at the edges, but he decided against it, the need for a new source of income and the anxiety of no longer having a stable one, too great to ignore.

With a groan, he opened up the same sites he did every night and began the search for a new job. Immediately setting the preferences so that only jobs that required a high school diploma would appear. He didn’t need the heartbreak of coming across the perfect job, only to realize he didn’t have the proper credentials to do it. Again.

He scrolled through it aimlessly. His eyes catching on a few descriptions every so often but none of them appealing enough to stick. Most were in locations that alone told him they were just fronts for drug dealing or prostitution, and that wasn’t something he was willing to get involved in. He wasn’t that desperate. Not yet, at least.

It was an hour or so before he came across the first promising description.

Caregiver

I need someone willing to do full-time care for my kid. Don’t need any credentials besides a high school diploma and prior experience dealing with kids. Need someone who is patient and won’t get angry easily. My kid is very sick and needs full-time attention and care so you will have to be a live-in caregiver.

Pay: $100,000/month

Note: If you quit before the month is up, you will not receive any money.

Oscar felt his eyes bulge out of his head, and he choked on his saliva out of shock.

No way! It was too good to be true. There’s no way this was real. It couldn’t be.

He reread the description, and then reread it again. He searched for a catch. For the thing that would burst his bubble, but he couldn’t find one.

Need a high school diploma. Check.

Be good with kids. Check. He had three younger sisters, all of whom he practically raised.

Someone who is patient. Check. He was constantly being told he had the patience of a saint by the older servers at the diner.

Live-in caregiver. That would solve his housing issues and finally get him out of this shitty apartment, and Logan off his back.

And of course, the pay.

$100,000 a month.

There was no fucking way.

And all he had to do was stay for a month to receive it!? That’d be the easiest money he’d ever made.

Oscar skimmed the page once again, his eyes catching on a small print that was in bright red near the bottom.

Must sign an NDA that says anything you see or hear while staying at the estate and in the position of caregiver will not leave the estate’s walls.

Well, that’s a bit strange. Why would they need an NDA for a nanny?

It wasn’t strange enough to discourage Oscar from signing the fuck up. He’d done weirder things for money. And that was for much less money.

Without much of a second thought, he clicked on the messages button and typed out a quick message to the person who had posted the job opportunity.

Oscar: Hello, I saw your job listing, and I’m interested in applying to be a caregiver.

Almost immediately, he got a reply.

Zak: Hello, Oscar. I’m glad you are interested in this opportunity, as I urgently need a new caregiver for my son since his last nanny just abruptly quit.

The ‘abruptly quit’ part probably should have tipped Oscar off that something wasn’t right about this situation, but his need for money overrode his ability to think straight. With that kind of money, he would never have to worry about medical bills or not being able to support his younger sisters again.

Oscar: What would be the process for applying? I’m in between jobs currently so the sooner I can get started, the better.

Zak: Send me a picture of your diploma, and I’ll ask you a few questions, and we can go from there.

Oscar sent a quick ‘ok’ and attached a picture of his diploma, which he already had saved to his laptop.

It was a few minutes before he received a reply, and Oscar couldn’t help but think about how sketchy this whole thing was. Before he could begin to have second thoughts, his laptop dinged with a new message.

Zak: Your diploma checks out.

Oscar felt relief course through his chest, although he’s not sure why, since he knew his diploma was legit.

Zak: Now onto the questions.

Before Oscar could figure out whether he was meant to reply or not, more messages began to pour in.

Zak: Do you have any prior experience with taking care of kids, and are you good with them?

Oscar: Yes, I have 3 younger sisters whom I’ve taken care of and practically raised for the past five years.

Zak: That’s good. So you have a high patience level?

Oscar: I would say so. My past coworkers have told me I have the patience of a saint, and I’m not easy to anger or frustrate.

Zak: Perfect, my boy can be a bit difficult to deal with, so you’ll definitely be needing that ‘patience of a saint’.

Zak: Last two questions. Are you ok with signing an NDA? And do you understand that my son is very sick and will require full-time care, so you will be expected to move in as soon as you start working?

Oscar hesitated before replying. The insistence of the NDA was slightly off putting, but the promise of a better life that the insane amount of money would provide was too good to pass up.

Oscar: Yes, I understand and am willing to sign the NDA, and I can move in as soon as I start.

Zak: Great. You sound like the perfect man for the job. You’re 22, correct?

Oscar: Yes, that is correct. How old is your son?

His question went unanswered as Zak sent him a different one.

Zak: How soon can you start?

Oscar stared at the screen unblinking before typing a reply.

Oscar: As soon as you need me to.

The reply was immediate.

Zak: Great, you start tomorrow.

An address was attached, with a simple, ‘be there by 9’.

Oscar stared at the screen in shock.

Holy shit, he got the job!

His mind began to race as he thought of all the possibilities this new job would bring. And for the first time in a long time, Oscar fell asleep with a smile on his lips and no heavy feeling in his chest.