"Are you alright, dear?" Fitz was brought crashing back to the present, the old wrinkled face in front of him twisted in what he thought was confusion. The dusty smell of the old woman's home replaced the memory of the stench of soot, but he could do nothing except stare through unblinking eyes as she hobbled past him to put the set of brushes into a nearby cupboard. "Fitz? Child, what's the matter?"
Warmth sank into Fitz' bones, his mind still scrambling back from the memory of the day his life had changed. Mostly for the better, in his opinion. He and Sam weren't starved. They never froze anymore. And their lives weren't constantly spent in fear of coming down with the sickness. But, they were always looking over their shoulders for fear of being recognized. Fitz still worried someone would come after them for the death of their master.
The red headed boy jumped when he felt the woman's soft fingers close around his forearm. "Fitz? What is going through that mind?" The boy shook himself, casting the last of the flashback out of his mind. "Uhm..." he coughed to clear his fear choked throat. "I'm sorry. Yes ma'am, I'm alright." He glanced at her hand on his arm and gently laid his own over it. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" Fitz gently began to lead her to her chair as she studied his face. He was the leader of a group of children, he knew how to force a calm and blank expression onto his face.
The old woman settled back into her easy chair, and looked at him pointedly. "Fitz, child, I'd like to know what caused you to have a panic attack just now." She gestured to another chair, and then sat staring at him patiently. Fitz shifted from one foot to the other, debating just walking out without saying anything else to her about it. But he'd never had an adult care about his feelings before. Well, before Levy, but this was still different. Levy was only a few years older, this woman was like a grandmother.
With a sigh, he perched on the edge of the chair she'd indicated, and launched into his story. "Well, it was the brush. I'm sorry, I know it's stupid, but..." he took a deep breath and continued his story, telling her of his fear for his own life. He hadn't meant to tell her everything, but he couldn't stop himself once he'd started. Fitz had never told anyone else what happened. He and Sam really hadn't even talked about the fate their former master had come to.
The entire time he was telling his tale, Fitz kept his eyes on the floor. He'd only spent half a day with this woman, but he was already terrified to see her disappointment. To her credit, she never uttered a gasp or a disparaging noise; she simply sat and listened. "So... that's it. That's why I freaked out. I'm so sorry. I can leave if you want, you don't have to pay me."
"What on earth would I want you to leave for, child? And you've done admirably at your job? Of course I'll pay you, don't be silly." She shifted slightly to grab her purse off a nearby table, digging out a bag with the jewel Fitz had earned. The young man blinked in surprise when she threw the bag to him, catching it and clutching it in his hands.
"But... I'm a criminal. You shouldn't pay me!" Once again, Fitz was calmed by the soft hand on his arm as she reached over to grab him. "Shh, you're fine. Believe it or not, I'm on a committee that advocates for children such as yourself and your sister. I'm actually in charge of the division that specifically fights for chimney sweep children. I have heard a great many stories like yours, although I'll admit most of them didn't end as tragically."