"The doctor made the diagnosis last week. Martha Liberty confirmed it." He'd had Stella to see the healer because he wasn't sure if there might be some other, magical explanation for how the girl was growing. Evidently, his and Solace's instincts had been correct. Much as he hadn't wanted that to be the case.

Max nodded slightly, keeping pace. "What do we do now?"

Stephen's mouth twitched slightly into what passed for a smile today. Tomorrow there might be more of one. "We study. We read ... what must be done. She will learn to ... to speak. Eventually."

Not that Stella wasn't speaking now, she was making long strings of noises that seemed to make sense to her. They were consistent internally, but no one around her could make sense of them, which was awkward at the best of times. When she ran crying to Mommy or Daddy's legs, wrapping her arms around and her tiny fingers clutching their pants legs and babbling something that neither of them could understand it was heartbreaking.

Max laid a hand on his shoulder as they rounded the corner on the balcony. "Stephen..."

He shook his head. "Sorry. Just... thinking." One hand came up to cover his, for a moment. And then he stopped walking and turned to face his friend, pushing that hand through his hair and scruffling up the dark curls. "There are behavioral therapists. Occupational therapists. There are doctors we can work with to make things easier for everyone, to... bridge that gap, I suppose. That's how they explained it, there's this gap, between the way she understands the world and the way we do." And on that he tripped and ran out of words. He was stuck at that point in his understanding. Actually, he'd frozen at that point in the conversation and Solace had had to take over the next couple of questions with the doctor.

"Stephen."

Hand through his hair again, and then fingers scrubbing at his eyes. He felt tired. He felt almost like crying except for the tiny little voice in the back of his head that said it wasn't that bad. She wasn't dying. She wasn't even sick, she just had a small communications problem. And then there was the other part of him that shrieked small problem? but he was trying to ignore that.

Max sighed, tugging him into his arms and holding on for a moment, one hand rubbing over his back. When they parted, it wasn't very far. Max's hands rested just above his elbows. "Behavioral therapists?"

Stephen nodded, and by now it was almost reflex taking over. "There are various theories, we still have to ... to sort through them. There's something called applied behavior analysis that's supposed to help, but I think behavioral therapy in general is the field..." He swallowed. "They also have a regimen of drug treatments."

"But you don't like that idea." It wasn't so much that the other man had a thing against drug treatments as Max could read his boss like a child's book. It wasn't that hard to see that Stephen had a problem with the idea of giving his daughter drugs to make her better.

Stephen nodded slightly, again. "I don't. I don't... like the idea of giving her some kind of medication that may or may not hurt her, that may or may not have been thoroughly tested, for a symptom of ... of autism," he hadn't said the word very often and still wasn't sure he could. "That she may or may not have. It's all so uncertain. So much of it is guesswork." And his voice slid into the pleading tones, as though Max could make it all better himself or knew someone who could make it better. Was a week, maybe ten days really long enough to get used to the idea that his child had a-- had a disorder that she would have the rest of her life, that would make her life even harder than it was going to be already? Never mind his position, Solace's family, the expectations that came with being both a de la Marck and a DuMorne, even a fourth child and a girl, the expectations and scrutiny alone...

"Stephen."

"Mm?"

Max smiled, squeezing his shoulder. "You're thinking again. Stoppit."

"Sorry," he laughed slightly, shook his head. Wondered for a split second if his daughter would ever be able to hear his laughter like Max did, have this kind of conversation with someone. Anyone. "I was just... thinking of how hard she's going to have it, perhaps." He turned his head and looked out over the green. "We haven't told Solace's parents yet."

Stephen's father, of course, didn't matter, and his mother was dead. No one cared what Charles de la Marck thought, though. "When are you going to tell them?"

"Soon?" He sighed. "When we can both be there. I don't know how that will go over, I don't know precisely what Warden DuMorne's expectations were of us..." He still wasn't sure how DuMorne would react upon learning of their arrangement. If he didn't already know.

Truth be told, the older man very much intimidated him, partly because of who he was and partly because he was a father in law who truly deserved respect and honor. And Stephen sometimes wondered if he lived up to Warden DuMorne's idea of a good husband to his Solace. Wizard DuMorne, his mother in law, at least, was a good deal easier to relax around.

He shook his head, fingers pressing and rubbing into his temples a bit before walking on. Max took his arm with a proprietary sort of care-taking and giving comfort. "I don't know. We do need to, as we look for... for treatment. Discuss what's to be done."

"Maybe wait till Healer DuMorne is at home, then you can discuss it all together." Max's hand rubbed along the inside of Stephen's forearm, soothing. Their steps matched, boot heels clacking in muffled rhythm along the marble and granite.

Maybe that was the best plan, a good idea. His sister-in-law was a healer, Solace was close to her brother, between the three, four of them? They could shift the conversation away from any stigma that might attach to the... autism, and over to what they could do about it. That was what he needed to do, wasn't it? Move away from the fear and worry and upset and to what they could do about it, how best to take care of his little girl. That was what it was always about. Always had been.

Which reminded him, too. "Maybe. But Solace and I will have to talk to the children, first. About what this means for us, as a family. Tonight?" He glanced at Max, for Max was a part of this family, too. Max and Dia and all the little ones. A family conference. "If I call Solace, I think we can all be ready..."

Max nodded. "Tonight works. Family meeting?"

"Family meeting." Stephen smiled a little more, the weight in his mind and the heat behind his eyes that had been threatening to prickle into full-on tears or something at least, gone. The exhaustion, mostly gone. It wasn't the end of the world. It wasn't even ... it just was what it was. There were doctors, therapists. There were answers and things to try, and Stella was their daughter, first and foremost. She had her family to support her, and always would.

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