An ambulance, its siren wailing into the evening air, arrived with haste. Mr. Jonathan Ashford and his two children accompanied the medics as they bore young Xavier into the depths of the hospital, where men of science and medicine would determine his condition.
The physicians, garbed in their pristine coats, conducted a thorough examination, seeking signs of affliction or injury that may have befallen the boy during his travels. Yet, to their great astonishment, Xavier bore neither wound nor ailment—only the pangs of hunger after a day adrift upon the great waters.
When one of the physicians inquired whether Jonathan was the boy's father, he shook his head solemnly. "No, sir, I am not," he admitted before recounting how he had discovered the child ensconced within a crate carried by a ship fresh from distant lands.
Upon hearing this, the hospital, bound by its duty, sent word to the authorities. Once the officers arrived, they listened keenly to Jonathan's tale and decreed that the child would fall under the jurisdiction of the state's Department of Family and Child Services. Should no kin be found, Xavier would be offered for adoption to those willing to claim him as their own.
"If you are interested in the boy, sir," one of the officers noted, "we could keep you informed when he is made available for adoption."
Jonathan hesitated but smiled, his decision weighing upon his mind. "Yes… I would not mind that."
The following day, a messenger from the Department of Family and Child Services contacted Jonathan, bearing news that no relatives of the child had been found within the country. "One of the officers from the hospital informed us of your interest in the boy," the worker said. "If you still wish to take him in, arrangements can be made."
Jonathan sat in deep contemplation. He thought of the child's plight, the uncertainty of his origins, and the undeniable pull of fate that had placed the boy in his hands. With a measured breath, he replied, "Yes. If it is within my right, I wish to adopt the child."
Pleased by his resolve, the worker responded, "Then you may visit our office to complete the necessary formalities."
Jonathan agreed and, true to his word, visited the department that very afternoon. With ink and quill, he signed the documents that bound the boy to his household. From that moment forth, Xavier was no longer a waif upon the wind but the son of Jonathan Ashford.
The journey home was quiet, the steam car's wheels rumbling over the cobbled streets as Xavier slumbered in the back. When at last Jonathan arrived, he was greeted with unbridled excitement by his two children, Violet and Aleksander.
"Father, is that the child from before?" Aleksander asked, his brows furrowed in curiosity as he beheld the sleeping infant in his father's arms.
Jonathan nodded. "He is. I have taken him in as one of our own. He is now your brother, and Violet's as well."
Violet, unable to contain her joy, clapped her hands together, her face aglow with delight. "I have a little brother!" she exclaimed, spinning about in a flurry of excitement.
Jonathan chuckled warmly. "Yes, Violet, you do."
She pranced about the house, her voice ringing through the halls as she proclaimed her newfound sibling to the walls themselves. Meanwhile, Aleksander, ever the composed one, observed the child with quiet contemplation.
"So I have a brother now," he mused.
Jonathan, settling into his chair, gazed down at the boy cradled in his arms. "A name," he murmured. "I must return to the department to register the name he shall bear."
"Then let's name him now!" Violet chimed in, eager as ever.
"That is a fine idea, my dear," Jonathan said, smiling at her enthusiasm.
As Aleksander nibbled upon an apple, he approached them and offered his own thoughts. "He ought to have a name of meaning," he said. "Something like Alfred, perhaps."
Jonathan fell into momentary silence, his mind wandering. In that hush, a whisper, soft as the autumn wind, wove through his thoughts—a name, repeated gently in the depths of his soul.
"Xavier," he murmured at last, his voice scarcely above a whisper. "His name shall be Xavier."
Violet, eyes wide with wonder, beamed. "That's a beautiful name, Papa."
Jonathan offered her a grateful smile before turning his gaze back to the boy. Just then, as if drawn by unseen forces, Xavier's eyes fluttered open, unveiling an awe-inspiring sight.
Within those orbs lay the boundless cosmos, twinkling with the fire of a thousand stars, an ethereal glow that spoke of mysteries beyond mortal comprehension.
The room fell into a stunned silence, their breaths stolen by the celestial beauty within the infant's gaze. And then, like the breaking of dawn, a bright, innocent smile graced the child's lips, followed by a peal of joyous laughter.
It was a sound pure and untainted, filling the chamber with a warmth that reached into their very souls.
Jonathan's heart softened as he placed a gentle hand upon Xavier's cheek. "Welcome to your new home, Xavier Ashford," he said, his voice laced with quiet resolve.
And in that moment, they knew—each of them—that their fates had been forever entwined.