A/N: This has been the trickiest one to write so far—John's just so good at adapting to things! Thanks once more for faves, alerts and reviews. :)

3. De Courcey's Day Care

It was a Monday and Miss De Courcey's senility was under question.

She'd been hiring and her new employee started today. Since everyone who works at De Courcey's Day Care is a woman, it was quite a surprise to find that the new girl was actually a new guy. If he looked like anything, it was not a nanny.

Sarah sat beside Tracy in the staffroom at lunchtime and they'd both spied on the new guy. He looked gorgeous—that much was obvious—but he may as well have been a beautifully carved marble statue. He stood by the door, posture rigid, and watched the kids warily from the side-lines. His absolute stillness was probably starting to scare some of them, and it certainly unnerved Sarah.

"He's so out of his depth," Tracy said with a small chuckle after she'd swallowed her pro-biotic yoghurt for health nuts. "I just can't watch," she added as she continued to do just that.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "He must have the credentials or he wouldn't be here," she pointed out reasonably as she ate a bag of chips.

Tracy had pouted, deep in thought. "I suppose," she allowed eventually. They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes. "You wanna bet on it?" she asked, suddenly animated again. At Sarah's look, she extrapolated; "I bet fifty dollars he'll be gone before the end of the week."

Sarah had sneaked another glance at the new guy and grinned; she's always been a sucker for a challenge. "You're on," she'd said.

What had followed was a week of intensive training of the new guy. And she found, once he had someone barking in his ear, he turned into a child-minding machine. He could follow instructions without question, didn't blink when Sarah threw him into the deep end to help with the younger kids in the room with all the babies in, and when she dragged him out again a few hours later to read the slightly older kids a book in the library corner he was only slightly fazed.

Tracy joined Sarah for that first story on Monday evening, and the pair had exchanged meaningful looks. Tracy's smug smile was wiped from her face when he'd started to read. He had one of those voices that Sarah could listen to forever, and the kids were the same. It was the first of many hidden talents he'd revealed as the week wore on.

It's Friday now, and Miss De Courcey's senility is no longer under question.

Sarah sits in the library corner, really a collection of colourful cushions arranged into a semi-circle, with little Mary on her lap and Lynn beside her, Martin with his legs crossed and sitting right at the front, Marvin and Tilly and Gloria and Kevin and Richard and Peter all gathered close. There's a hum of anticipation in the huddle, one that Sarah is no doubt adding to. She enjoys this, John commanding an audience—she thinks he's surprised himself with how good he is at it.

The kids and Sarah watch as John sits down on the largest cushion, the one reserved for the reader. He crosses his legs to mirror Martin, and even though Sarah can't see Martin's face she can imagine the look of pride. There's something about John that Sarah can't quite put her finger on, but he attracts kids like bees to honey.

John rummages through the plastic storage box for a book his hasn't read yet this week—there can't be many left since John's proven so popular with the kids he's sometimes been requested to read more than one.

He opens his selected book and rests it on his lap. "'Badger'," he announces, reading the cover. "'Badger was the best at making mud pies, and all of the other animals...'" he begins before he's interrupted by Marvin.

"We've already heard this one," he declares boldly, and the quieter kids gain enough confidence to nod along with the rest.

"Oh. Okay," John replies, already rummaging for another book in the box. He holds up one called 'Doug's Good Day' with an illustration of a dog on the front. This, too, is met with disapproval. 'Albert the Pig' and 'Dee and Her Tree' suffer the same fate.

"Tell us a story!"

"Yeah, tell us one!"

"A brand new story!"

"Oh, go on!"

The last is Sarah, who smirks back at John as he catches her eye. He looks almost betrayed, but that only makes Sarah smirk harder.

"All right, then..." John says, and pauses to think. The kids watch his every move, waiting uncharacteristically patiently. John takes on a nostalgic smile as an idea comes to him.

"Once upon a time there was this bird—a finch—and he liked to watch things. He would sit in his tree and he would watch everything that happened down below. He could see, uh, the bears as they wandered by... and the people playing with their kites.

"One day the finch saw a chipmunk—"

"I don't like chipmunks," Peter says plainly with no further explanation apparently required. John's resultant expression of bewilderment has Sarah stifling a laugh.

"...One day the finch saw a squirrel," he waits for Peter to nod his approval, "on the ground, and he was upset. The finch was worried and he flew down to see what the matter was. The squirrel was going round in circles because he'd lost his nuts but he didn't want any help. When the finch told the squirrel that he could help, the squirrel ran away..." He stops as Tilly takes the rare opportunity to climb onto John's lap since it's free of books.

"But the finch was very persistent," John goes on, and somehow he finds that sentence funny, "he knew the squirrel needed help. So he took the squirrel up into his tree and showed him his perch where he watched things from. And the finch said, 'I think I know who took your nuts—it was the chipmunk!'

"The squirrel went to investigate and in the chipmunk's burrow were his nuts! He asked very nicely to have his nuts back and because he'd been so polite the chipmunk agreed. When the squirrel had all of his nuts back he went back to the finch to thank him for his help, but he was gone!"

John is becoming increasingly dramatic with his voice and, damn it, even Sarah's finding herself sucked in. It's the way he's telling the story, with such conviction, that makes her wonder if there is a grain of truth in it. She'll ask him later, she decides, when she's got him cornered.

"There was a note carved into the tree," John continues, dramatic pause over, "and it said: 'If you ever need help, Mr Squirrel, I'll find you.'

"And that's the end."

He pauses again as if waiting for applause.

"I like Mr Squirrel," Richard says after a beat.

"He's got a bushy tail," giggles Tilly.

"Tweet, tweet, I'm a finch!" Gloria trills, flapping her arms enthusiastically.

"What happens next?" Kevin asks, hugging his blanket tight.

He glances at the clock on the wall and Sarah does the same. It's almost time for parents to start arriving and take the kids home. He smiles broadly, dimples deep, and says, "You can find out next time, okay?" There are collective groans from his audience and Sarah joins in to add to the volume. His smile moulds into a smirk—gotcha.

There is a fifty dollar bill waiting for Sarah in her coat pocket as she's about to go home that evening.

THE END . . . ?