Title: The Library
Warnings/spoilers: Spoilers for Kali 3, Firewall, and Trail of Blood
A/N: Thank you to Zip for her beta work
In those first months after she removed the bullets from his body and he began to heal, it really wasn't a surprise to Helen to find the Big Guy spending long hours in the library. It was quiet there. Since he was so quiet himself, it made sense to her that he'd seek solace in the empty silence of that room.
She was about the only one that went in there, and only when she was researching something. She remembers being startled the first few times because, for as big as he is, he has the odd ability to not take up much space and not allow his presence to be known until he's ready for you to see him. She supposes that's what allowed him to survive so long on his own in the woods, at least until the unfortunate incident that brought him to her doorstep with the help of a local priest.
He never objected to Helen's presence; even though it was her library, he seemed to claim it as his own turf within the Sanctuary. When she did come in to find a book or a map, he would stand near, but not too close. He'd watch her pull things from the shelves and leaf through them. Once, he even mimicked the way she wet her finger before turning a page.
In that first year, he would roam the stacks, running his fingers along the bindings of the books. It was as if he were in awe, not only of the books themselves, but of the secrets inside them that were hidden to him. He never ventured far in the Sanctuary and she never pushed. He was not one that she felt needed to be contained and he had no natural enemies here; his shyness and gentleness were evident to her from the beginning. So, it was all up to him to decide what he wanted to become inside these walls.
Helen knew his kind could speak English, if they so chose. But many of his people felt that speaking aloud in a language not their own was a betrayal of traditions, a violation, something worthy of exile from their dying race. So she was surprised the afternoon that he first spoke to her. She doesn't remember what it was, not after all these years. But it was simple and honest and when she responded as if it were not a momentous occasion, she saw the relief awash in his eyes.
He eventually did leave the library. He could be found in the kitchen, or walking the long corridors - one day he even wandered into her lab just as some jars were tipping precariously off a high shelf. He reached up and righted them for her. He stayed all afternoon.
But Helen could tell the library remained special to him. With his over-developed olfactory ability, she wondered about, and once even asked, if the musty scent of the books was a comfort to him. He simply turned those large, expressive eyes toward her and nodded once. She left it at that; there was no need to elaborate.
Overtime, he became integral in running the day-to-day, saved her life more than once, and was the only one she trusted to make a decent cup of tea. One day she woke up and could hardly remember what is was like not to have him around, his presence like a reassurance pressing at her back, letting her know that she couldn't fall. Not in his eyes.
It was sometime in the late '60s that it finally came to pass - the event she'd been expecting for a long time now. She pointed to a picture and some corresponding text in one of her references, explaining to the team what it meant and how it might be a lead on the abnormal they were currently tracking. Everyone took notes; the Big Guy met her gaze.
The lessons began the following week. She'd meet him in the library late, long after the rest of the Sanctuary had gone to sleep, or in the case of the nocturnal wing, had woken up and been fed breakfast. They started with the handful of children's books she had in those days, as it was long before Ashley was born and a very young Henry came into her life.
She'd correct him and he'd get frustrated. Occasionally he'd grunt at her in a way she suspected meant something specific in his language, and not very appropriate. She'd ignored it and continued on.
Once they worked through the basics, and he began to really catch on, Helen started selecting stories she thought would be his taste. Waldon, Moby-Dick, Clockwork Orange, A Tale of Two Cities… but it wasn't working as she'd hoped. She was becoming a little nervous that he'd give up all together when they hit upon The Importance of Being Earnest. She hadn't known that he could laugh. Soon he was reading Austen and Bronte, and despite the tears, he'd fallen in love with Louisa May Alcott. He adored Nero Wolfe. She thought about putting her foot down when he discovered dime-store romance novels with bodice-ripping pictures on the front. No respectable library of hers was going to contain such books.
James laughed and her and told her to let the Big Guy be. If that was his worst flaw, she should be so lucky. Big Guy only grunted, gave her a satisfied and smug look (or as close to such a thing he could manage) and turned ahead to page 78 where he knew the action got really hot.
Somewhere in the '90s she noticed the books being held further and further away as he read. She let it go on for a while. It wasn't as if she were the model of perfect willingness all the time, and never herself stubborn. She remained silent until his annual checkup came along and she caught him cheating at the eye exam portion. Did he really think she wouldn't notice the series of mirrors he'd set up in the lab ahead of time?
He didn't talk to her for days. She let him stew.
She bought him a book in particularly small font.
He stewed some more.
One evening, he was driving her back from a meeting in New City and he swung the car into a parking lot unexpectedly. She saw the sign above the door and realized why he'd brought along his best disguise. If the woman working behind the counter that evening thought it strange that they had difficulty finding a pair that were wide enough for his face, she didn't comment. She cheerfully told the Big Guy he looked handsome and distinguished in his new glasses.
Helen wondered if the store employees worked on commission.
The memory faded, and so did her smile. She watched Will lie down on the bed under the watchful eye of the Big Guy. As Will got settled, Big Guy slid his glasses on and found the place marked in the middle of his current book, a favorite he'd read many times if Helen recalled correctly. Only a few weeks ago, before the trip to India and Will's near-death experience, the Big Guy and Will had rushed into her office one morning, excited by their idea to start a book club in the Sanctuary. A book club, in the middle of a Sanctuary, led by their very own gentle giant. It was one of those times when it hit her; it really was incredible. She sat back in her chair and thought how this all must look strange to anyone on the outside looking in - if only they had the chance to see. But a book club seemed perfectly normal.
She told herself firmly that Will would be fine; he must. He has other work to do, a lifetime of learning ahead, and a book club to run with the Big Guy. After all, she'd already got herself a copy of the first selection.
And in the meantime, there was no one that she trusted more implicitly to watch over Will, to protect him from all manners of harm, both real and imagined.
The Big Guy read while he kept vigil. He'd come a long way from the timid creature that hid in her library. Now, Helen can't imagine what any of them would do without him.