Beginning Anew

Reaquint

The sound of a happily giggling baby met Jim's ears as he rounded a corner, on his way to check on his mom and new little brother. His eyes snapped open in surprise.

He'd expected to see his mom holding Emil, but instead, there, atop a flat stone, sat Strickler, offering the baby a bottle, which the little one happily took as a very human-looking Walter held it in place.

Jim blinked hard and shook his head. He was so used to seeing Strickler in his troll form that the image before him was foreign. That, or perhaps it was the ease with which the former changeling handled the baby.

Walter looked up at Jim with amused, green eyes. "Ah, Young Atlas," he greeted, his voice deep and smooth – much more like the Strickler Jim remembered.

"Walter." Jim remembered to call his new step-father by his first name. "You're up. That's great. We were starting to worry about you."

Walter nodded. "Understandable. My apologies. I had no idea I would sleep for so long," he admitted, eyes returning to Emil.

Jim didn't know what to feel about what he was seeing. The picture painted before him was so happy, peaceful – completely normal and mundane. No one would ever believe this man, holding his adopted infant son, was formerly a troll.

When Jim first met Strickler, he would never have believed it either. This man, his British History teacher, kept an eye on him at school and offered help when Jim needed it. When Strickler found out Jim stayed up late to wait for his over-worked mother, the man began allowing Jim to sleep in class uninterrupted. Strickler wouldn't encourage Jim's frequent naps, but he wouldn't draw attention to them either.

Whenever Jim slept through a class, he would always find a note later that day detailing what he'd missed so he could catch up at home that night. Strickler gave him an open-ended offer of help with his homework, inviting Jim to come see him any time during his office hours. That was when the nickname "Young Atlas" was bestowed.

Jim hadn't used the offer of homework help too much, but he'd gone a few times. It was reassuring to know Strickler was always ready to help him, to give Jim the benefit of the doubt and take his side in front of the other teachers. Back then... before the amulet... Strickler had only ever been supportive of him. Jim used to secretly wish Walter was his real father.

"Where's Mom?" Jim asked, assuming Walter had already talked to her – hence him watching Emil.

"Gone to bed," Strickler replied. "She was exhausted. I think we should let her sleep."

"Yeah. She was pretty worried about you," Jim said. "She wouldn't let anyone in to see what was happening to you. Looks like the potion worked."

Walter smirked. "Many things can be said about Merlin – much of which is far from complementary. He's unpredictable and shamelessly manipulative; however, his magic is indeed rather potent. I would never doubt his magical ability."

"So..." Jim eyed Walter. "There's no troll left in you at all?" he asked. "You can't – you know... change? The glowy eyes and all that stuff...?"

Walter closed his eyes, making the same motion he usually would to bring on his change from one form to the other. Nothing happened.

He opened his eyes again and made another effort. "Doesn't seem like it. That was the plan though. It's exactly what Merlin said would happen."

"Wow. So... no powers," Jim concluded, slightly stunned. "Are you feeling alright? Any side effects?"

Walter's amused eyes lingered on Emil. "I'm a bit sore, and tired, but it's nothing to be concerned about." He met Jim's gaze with a light smile.

It struck Jim how sincere Strickler was – the way he talked, his genuine smile. There was something about him that was fundamentally different now, but Jim couldn't pinpoint it. It felt... strange, but in a good way.

Jim used to think Walter was sincere before this all began, but then he'd learned differently. He'd discovered Stickler's tricks and found out his smile and pretty words were a front, used to manipulate those around him. But now... This wasn't the Walter Strickler Jim used to know. Once secretly a troll, this man was now fully human. Even the air around him felt different. Jim didn't know what to do. Should he stay and talk? Or walk away?

"If you have a moment, would you mind telling me a bit about your education?" Walter asked. "I want to know how much you remember. Then I'll know where we should pick up."

Relief washed over Jim as Walter chose something to talk about. "Well... to be honest, my last school year is really fuzzy. I was kind of busy with Trollhunter stuff most of the time."

"Alright then," Walter said. "I suppose we should focus on subjects you'll need for college preparation: English, Math, History, and preferably a foreign language. You're quite adequate with Spanish, are you not?"

Jim nodded. "It helps having Claire around." He sat down in front of Strickler, legs crossed as he looked up at his step-father. "Can you teach those other subjects?" he asked. "I mean, you're a History teacher, right?"

"Our goal is to make you capable of passing a written exam. The education of the teacher matters very little," Walter informed. "But if you are concerned, I do speak several languages, including Spanish, and while Math was never my forte, I have helped other students with it before."

Jim blinked in surprise. "I didn't know you spoke more languages."

Walter laughed. "I lived in many different countries," he reminded Jim. "My true first language is Trollish, not English."

"So, you didn't always live in Arcadia?" Jim asked.

"No, I didn't." Walter shook his head. "Though I did move back at regular intervals. Headquarters was there, close to the Killahead Bridge and Trollmarket. I most recently moved back ten years before I became your teacher because the completion of Killahead bridge was nearing its completion, and I had to keep an eye on it."

"What were you doing before that?" Jim asked, curious.

"I posed as a university professor in Cambridge, England," Walter supplied. "Philosophy and History. The teacher and student bodies had strong ties to England's government. Students there were groomed to become the rising political class of England. It was the ideal place to influence young men and women's views early, so it would be possible to cash in favors later. And it was a good position to look out for pieces belonging to Killahead Bridge."

Jim shivered at the idea of just how far the reach of the changelings used to be. It was unnerving to think about. "I guess that explains your accent," he commented with an awkward smile.

"Truth be told, most changelings retain the accent of the country they originally grew up in, even if that was hundreds of years ago," Strickler admitted. "Besides, I saw no reason to change it. I always quite liked it in fact. Now, about your classes, Young Atlas." Walter pointed Emil's half-empty bottle at Jim. "English, Math, Spanish and History, those will be our focus for now," he said. "Do we have a deal?"

"Deal!" Jim beamed.

Emil uttered a dissatisfied wail at being deprived of his bottle. Walter gave it back to him.

Jim smiled. This wasn't so bad – not at all.

Over the next few hours, Jim asked Walter question after question, knowing he had to use this limited time with Strickler wisely. Eventually, Claire joined them, her eyes brightening at the sight of a human Walter.

"Looking good, Mr. Strickler. I see it worked!" she said, immediately turning her attention to the baby. "Emil!" she exclaimed. "Hello, little cutie." She grinned as she pulled a rattle out of the diaper bag and waved it in front of the baby's face as he giggled.

Jim watched his little brother. The kid already had everyone wrapped around his tiny finger, and he even seemed to know it. Jim supposed Emil had to enjoy it while he could. Something told him that once Emil got a little older, Stricker's stricter side would emerge.

"Hang in there, kiddo. He's not so bad," Jim whispered as Claire cooed over the little boy in Walter's arms.