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Yeah, I've decided to draw little images with some of my one shots. This one shot is dedicated to my friend chocoqueen29 as a gift because today is her birthday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! Hope you enjoy your little "gift of Jay". 😏

Anyways, HEADCANON: Baby Jay had a habit of holding onto people's fingers if he thought they were trustworthy.

UwU

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"Here it is, sir," the butler said, holding the door of the limo open for his master.

Cliff Gordon climbed out, taking off his sunglasses and gazing up at the auto repair shop. "Thank you, Cedric." He made his way inside, the bell on the door ringing as he entered.

The man at the front desk recognized him, exchanged a few words of greeting and led him straight to the back of the shop. Half finished cars and bikes were scattered all over the room, the floor dotted with car parts and oil spills while wires and other tools hung from the walls. Clanks and bangs echoed all around, mixed in with the chatter of the mechanics.

"Hey, Ed!" The man called out, advancing towards a Mercedes with its front hood wide open. "How's Mr. Gordon's car coming along?"

A middle-aged man with greying brown hair and greasy clothes emerged from behind the car. He wiped the sweat off his forehead, hand still clutched around a wrench. He attempted at a smile as the two men approached.

"This is Ed Walker, one of our oldest mechanics," the man from the desk introduced, earning a nod from Cliff. "He's been taking care of your car ever since you dropped it off."

Ed cleaned up his hands the best he could on a rag. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Gordon."

"You too."

The man clapped his hands. "Well, I'll leave you be. Mr. Gordon, anything you'd like to inquire about, Ed here would be happy help."

Cliff thanked him and he left. He watched him leave before walking over to the Mercedes and running a hand over the black surface. "I have a lot of cars but this one's my favorite. I hope it's in good hands?" He asked, smiling at the mechanic.

Ed chuckled. "I can assure you, she is. I'm almost done with the engine. She'll be up and running smoothly in no time."

"I hope so," Cliff said, patting the roof lovingly.

A few seconds passed in silence in which the he observed his car and the mechanic sorted through his tools. The latter returned and leaned over the hood. "Don't mind what I say but you don't look as bright as you do on TV."

Now it was Cliff's turn to grin. He inserted one hand into his pocket, drumming his fingers on the roof. "I never do. The brightness, that's all the work of lights and make up. All that perfection vanishes when I go off-screen."

"You're still young," Ed said, almost wistfully. "You should have that brightness thriving on your face at all times." He paused and sighed. "It's old, neglected folks like me that lose it all."

Cliff frowned. "Neglected?"

"Neglected by fate," clarified the man, straightening up. He stopped and looked away, probably wondering if he should add more context to his words. Cliff's curiosity was piqued and he found himself waiting.

Finally, Ed settled on explaining. "My wife and I live in an old scrapyard in the Sea of Sand. We're not well-off but all this tinkering I do at the shop helps keep the stove running. We've been wanting a child for a long time but . . ." He trailed off, resorting to continue his work on the car instead.

"I'm sorry," Cliff spoke, not indifferently.

"It's alright," Ed shrugged, taking up his smile again which Cliff could tell had been dampened by sorrow and hardships. "Me and Edna have accepted that we weren't meant to be parents. We've learned to be happy with each other." He walked along to the side of the car and laid down, pushing himself underneath. "I don't know why I even told you this."

Cliff shook his head though he knew Ed couldn't see it. "It's fine. You have to tell somebody, right?"

"You got any kids of your own, Mr. Gordon?"

A faint, amused smile erupted on Cliff's lips as if there was no chance of such a possibility. But on the contrary, he said, "Just one. A baby boy."

"Ah, new parent I see," Ed said admiringly, grunting as he slid out from under the car. "Lucky you, I'll say."

Another shake of the head. This time he made sure Ed saw it. "It's not all sunshine and rainbows. My son, he's . . . motherless."

A regretful shadow passed over the mechanic's face and lowered his eyes guiltily. "Oh, poor chap."

The two floated back into silence again, thinking over the things that had been exchanged between them. Cliff dared to glance at Ed who had busied himself with the Mercedes once more. The way his hands moved over the mechanical structures and his fingers wove through wires as he worked; it seemed like a magical craft attainable by him and him only.

By the story he told of his struggles, Ed worked day and night to make ends meet and still made time for his wife so that they would never feel the absence of a child in their lives. That was love. That was running against the tides. That was living. Fate had been cruel to Cliff once but then it had given him everything. Fame, money, respect and a beautiful family. He'd been the one to take it all for granted.

"I hope one day you and your wife get what you wished for," Cliff felt his lips say as he walked over and placed a hand on the mechanic's shoulder. "And that you'll get to be real proud."

Ed smiled, nodding along. "I hope your son makes you proud too."

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The rain beat a steady rhythm on the road and the windshield while dangerous lightning crackled overhead. The Mercedes ploughed through the storm in the dead of night, headlights burning through the curtain of rain. The road led out of the city outskirts and onto the vast expanse of rough, sandy ground.

Cliff switched off the windshield wipers as the he entered the desert. The downpour had reduced in strength and eventually ceased. Only the swirling remnants of the clouds lingered in the sky above.

His hands tightened around the steering wheel in response to the anxiety filling him up. Was he really going through with this? His eyes teared up as he tried to ignore the soft cooing from the passenger seat. The soft rustling of blankets and the constant movement in his peripheral vision continued till he could no longer resist.

Cliff glanced to the side at the carry cot strapped to the seat. Bright blue eyes peeked at him from inside the pile of blankets, the infantile mumbling persisting. He aimed a fatherly smile at his baby, reaching out to pat his legs under the coverings. The baby fussed, taking out his tiny hands and trying to reach for his father's fingers.

"Shh," Cliff lulled, letting the child hold his pointer finger as he gazed back at the road. "Don't be scared. You're going to be safe."

The car sped on for a while till it slowed down a little. Cliff peered through the front window and saw a dark structure emerging from the darkness. The scarce moonlight helped him in discerning the features as he drove closer. Against the pale, sandy earth stood a circular enclosure lined by a fence. Cliff directed the car off road and towards the scrapyard.

He parked in front of a wide gap in the fence which was made to look like an entrance. Huge letters loomed overhead but Cliff couldn't make out what they were in the lack of light. He would've been able to if the haphazardly hung fairy lights were switched on but the entire property was in total darkness.

Cliff took hold of the cot's handle and climbed out of the car. His son began flailing his arms and legs in excitement, assuming it was time to play outside. Despite the fear and remorse churning inside him, Cliff let out a chuckle. He muttered soft words to the baby as he made his way inside the yard.

He looked around, his smile waning gradually. Mounds of scrap metal, tyres and other junk rose up all around the area like tiny mountains. Broken down cars peeked out from here and there while a row of oil barrels lined the extreme backside. The place would've appeared abandoned and forgotten if it weren't for the small trailer parked in the dead center.

Without realizing, Cliff took a few steps back. Suddenly, the idea of leaving his infant son all the way out in the desert in the midst of this crudeness seemed cruel. He placed the cot on the ground and picked up the child, bundled in the layers of blankets. He willed his feet to move forward but he remained rooted to the spot.

The hushed voices that had been nagging at him the entire ride here now screamed through his mind to stop this madness and turn back. Cliff pivoted around and hurried back to the entrance, his son clutched in his trembling arms. The baby cried, disturbed by his father's restlessness and heavy breathing.

All of a sudden, a fleeting image of Libber flashed in his mind's eye. A frown etched on her freckled face, disappointment flickering in her eyes. And then it was gone. Cliff stopped. His wife never would've let their son live with him if she had the choice. Cliff didn't know how to cherish relationships. Libber had never told him so directly but she'd hinted at it in all their arguments together.

"You don't give two cents about me or the baby, Cliff! Just leave us alone!"

"How can you say that? You both are all I have!"

"You're never there! You have money and power now. You don't need us anymore."

"That's not-"

"You've become bitter and selfish ever since you landed that stupid contract with the studio! You only needed me to survive your poverty. You used me!"

Low thunder rumbled from the direction of the city. Cliff stood there, his son struggling in his arms while he lost himself in the memories of the past. Libber had been right. He did neglect her and their baby. He was so obsessed with thriving further and further in the media industry, he'd forgotten he had a family to care for.

And now she was gone. The one true ray of sunshine in his life had died out because of his arrogance, leaving him stumbling in the dark and cold. Their son was the only part left of her. Cliff didn't deserve him. Just like he didn't deserve his mother. He couldn't possibly care for the child. His job only grew more demanding and, being a single father now, he would never be able to give the baby well-needed attention.

The people owning the scrapyard prayed for a child nearly every night of their lives, longing for a family. They truly deserved the happiness and pride that came with becoming a parent. His son would be better off in a scrapyard full of love rather than a big, empty house with no one but the expensive furniture and ornaments to keep him company.

Mind still buzzing with thoughts, Cliff shuffled back towards the trailer with the baby in his arms. He grabbed the cot which he had left lying on the ground and approached the steps. When he set the cot down on the top most step, his son began to cry once more. He cradled him gently, murmuring comforting words again. After the baby relaxed a little, Cliff bent down and planted a kiss on his forehead.

"You're going to be so happy here, I promise you," he whispered as the baby's eyelids drooped. "More than you can ever be with me." Tears gathered up, blurring his vision. "Your eyes are so much like hers. And I'm ashamed to look into them. Please, forgive me."

He gave the child another kiss and then placed him in the cot. Making sure not to wake him, Cliff wrapped the blankets around him tight till nothing but his small face and auburn hair were visible. He took out an envelope from his pocket and tucked it between the blankets as well. The night grew darker and Cliff slowly stepped away from the trailer. His eyes lingered on his son and he managed a small smile.

"I love you, blue jay," he muttered softly, feeling hollow as he said the pet name Libber had reserved for their child.

With that, the father left. The headlights switched on and the car rumbled away into the distance. The scrapyard was empty again. The only proof that anybody had been there was the baby, sleeping soundly in his cot, lulled by his father's final words to him.

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Loud, shrill wailing woke the couple up. It was deep in the night and the silence in the trailer had been completely shattered. Ed climbed down from the top bunk and fumbled with the electric lantern hanging from the ceiling. His wife, Edna, untangled herself from the covers and got out of her bunk too.

"Ed, what is that?" she hissed, shivering in her nightgown. She grabbed a shawl and draped it over her shoulders.

Ed didn't answer. He simply crept towards the door and pulled it open just a crack. Edna waited for him to see what or who was outside. She saw her husband's figure relax as he peeked out. He opened the door entirely and bent down. Flattening down her bedraggled brown hair, Edna followed after him.

"It's a baby," Ed revealed as she came to crouch next to him.

The infant was tucked into a cot, covered in blankets and crying his head off. Ed held the lantern over him and he opened his scared blue eyes. Edna gasped with both wonder and pity. She reached out and pulled the baby out of his cocoon.

"Oh, darling," she whispered lovingly, rocking him in her arms. "It's alright." When the child looked up at her, a smile erupted on her tired face. She caressed his cheek and the crying died down. The baby began to reach for her fingers. He tightly held her thumb and stared at her with his electric blue irises, now widened with wonder.

"He's so beautiful," Edna murmured, taking in his curly hair and freckles. "His eyes are so vibrant. So full of power. Like lightning."

"Who would leave a child here?" Ed said, raising the lantern and observing the empty scrapyard ahead. Why would anyone come all the way out here in the dead of night? His eye caught something in the nest of blankets. It turned out to be an envelope.

"Does it say anything?" Edna asked, leaning towards her husband.

Putting aside the lantern, Ed tore it open and emptied its contents onto his lap. A note fell out - and so did a key with a yellow lightning bolt keychain. Edna picked it up and shook it over the baby who excitedly began playing with it. Ed read the note aloud.

JAYDEN

Accept this gift for you truly deserve it. Take good care of him for me. The key is to be given to him when he's old enough.
~ Gordon Estate, Juniper Road

Ed froze as he read the address. Edna, however, was oblivious. She playfully took the key away from the boy, saying he could have it when he was older.

"Jayden," she said aloud, testing the name on her tongue. "What a nice name. I like Jay though. Short and cute, like a blue jay."

"We have to take him back," Ed put in suddenly, his face paling. "We have the address. We'll take him home where he belongs." He moved to take the baby from his wife but she pulled away.

"No!" she exclaimed, shielding him. "We're not doing that. They didn't leave him here just to have him back. They gave him to us as a gift, Ed."

The man opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by his desperate wife. "By the grace of the First Spinjitzu Master, we've been blessed with a child. Jay is the answer to all our prayers. I will not lose this chance, Ed. I can't." Her voice shook slightly and she looked down at the sleepy baby to hide the tears.

Ed sighed. Part of him was hesitant in dubbing someone else's child as his own. But the other part of him, the deeper, more stronger one, wanted nothing more than to see his wife happy and to harbor a complete family under his roof. He threw an arm around Edna and apologized.

"You're right," he said, his eyes trained on the note. "This baby is a gift to us. Fate has finally considered us worthy.

"Jay Walker," Edna whispered, resetting the blankets around the boy. "Our little son."

"Won't Jayden be better?" Ed grimaced. "That name is-"

"Jay Walker's fine, Ed!"

"Okay, okay," the man gave up, raising his hands to surrender. The baby gave him toothless smile and he couldn't help but smile back. "Come on, let's put him to bed. I bet the little bird's tired ."

Edna stood up and carried Jay inside, already deciding on what songs she would sing to him. Ed picked up the cot and made to follow after her. He stopped and looked out into the desert. The road ahead lay quiet and empty. It showed no trace of the visitor but he knew who it had been.

"Thank you," he murmured to the night. "I won't let you down."

Closing the door, he turned around to face his family. Edna was mumbling nursery rhymes to the infant as he held onto her finger once again.

"Happy Birthday, dear," Ed wished, walking over to the duo. He ran a hand over Jay's forehead, gently tugging his curls away from his face.

"Now I can call this the best birthday gift ever," Edna giggled, pressing her lips to the tip of the child's nose.

"My gift of Jay."

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