bc this is my best au lets be real

----

"Hey, kiddo, how'ya holding up?" Umbra called as he walked through the door of their shabby motel room, tossing the pistol he wore on his hip onto the coffee table.

No reply.

Cursing under his breath, Umbra moved to the bed, shaking the tiny lump nestled under the sheets. "Victor, are you feeling any better?"
Victor groaned, and Umbra drew his hand back. His skin was burning hot.

His fever's gotten worse, Umbra thought, brushing a lock of sweat-slicked hair off Victor's face.

"Sweetie, I need you to drink some water, okay?" Umbra said gently, propping Victor against the headboard of the bed. He pushed a water bottle to his lips, but Victor shook his head, eyes clenched shut.

"You need to keep hydrated, Victor," Umbra's voice was laced with uncharacteristic worry and strain. He had known Victor was a sickly child, but one of his fits had never lasted this long. It had been five days and his fever had only gotten worse.

Umbra dribbled the water down Victor's throat, ignoring the fingernails that clawed weakly into his wrists. Victor had stopped sweating, which only meant one thing: he was dehydrated.

Umbra lowered Victor back into bed, pulling off his shirt and pants and throwing back the covers. He hoped the creaky ceiling fan would at least keep Victor's body temperature from rising anymore.

Kissing Victor on the cheek, Umbra sighed. "I've got something I need to take care of, okay? I'll be back as soon as I can. Hang in there."

--

Officer Matthew Stürme rolled over onto his side, a stream of drool running down his chin. Another hectic day of fighting the crime in Alcorith had left him drained.

Crash!

He flew out of bed, snatching the gun that sat on his nightstand. Adrenaline pulsed through his veins, forcing him into awareness.

Someone was in the house.

Matthew snuck around the doorway of his bedroom, letting the muzzle of the gun lead the way.

"Who's there?" he barked, the darkness allowing him no clear image of whatever intruder had broke in.

A figure stepped into view, illuminated by moonlight. "You really never quit with that 'scary police officer' act, do you, babe?"

"Umbra Mortis?!" Matthew gasped.

Umbra grinned, dark eyes flashing with amusement. "You would be correct."

"How stupid do you have to be to break into a police officer's house, Mortis? I expected a little better of you, since you always seem to evade arrest," Matthew growled, approaching Umbra, gun aimed between his eyes.

"You have a pretty nice house, Stürme. A nice guest bedroom, too. Since you don't have any kids, I'm assuming you don't have much use for it, do you? Might I suggest a use for it?"

"I don't rent to criminals."

Umbra shrugged. "That's reasonable. But I was considering something a little different: my son, Victor. I need somewhere safe for him. He's not very well right now."

Matthew snorted. "Do you think I was born yesterday, Mortis? I know how you two operate. Scamming innocent people with phony psychic readings and 'my son is deathly ill and I need money for hospital bills.' You make me sick."

"Normally, yes, that is my forte, but I'm being serious. I love this kid with all my heart, and I can't stand to see him suffer."

Matthew watched Umbra's face as pure misery flickered over it, an earnest, emotional tone taking over his voice. "You're telling the truth," Matthew whispered.

Umbra sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Victor's been sick for days. He can't keep any food down and I can barely get him to drink  any water."

Matthew placed his gun on the table, rubbing his forehead. "You're a despicable man, Mortis. But I like your son. Go and get him and I'll see what I can do."