A/N: A little spin I did for Miss Peregrine. The bird and her children is not abandoned, it will be updated shortly. Review when you're finished please!
Miss Peregrine never wished to be a mother. Her own family had been broken and abusive, from her father and mother to her brother's and everyone else she knew and love, and she'd grown up hating upon the very idea.
In her mind, such a thing could never end any way that did not spell disaster.
Still, little by little, it's what she becomes. She goes through Ymbryne Academy and tell herself she will just be a caretaker, the kind of guardian she'd wished would take pity upon her when she was little, and give the poor things a second chance.
When the others fantasise about playing with their children, looking out for them and teaching them of the world and making home baked cookies, Alma keeps holding onto the idea that they won't mean anything to her. That they won't reach her heart and that all she will do is provide the necessities and comfort they lacked anywhere else.
The older Ymbrynes worry for her attitude and the other trainees find her weird, but she makes a few precious friends and move on. She ignores when they tell her the children will grow on her and let them keep their opinion, while she keep hers.
The only reason she agreed to training as an ymbryne, from the hery start, is because it offered her a home and a purpose. Nothing more.
Miss Peregrine never wished to be a mother, but in the end it still what she becomes.
She promises herself to never let them in, but the moment she holds the soft hand of the eleven - in reality seventy five - year old boy with the blonde hair and troubled look in his eyes, she realisie that it was not a matter of keeping the gate open or not. It opened on its own and he let himself into her heart without consent nor question.
It's a strange concept to adjust to, but with every grateful smiled and joyful squeal it gets easier. She hates to give her sister's credit for being right, but has to admit that they were, because every day of caring for the children, her children, find her loving them more and more and it's nothing she can control.
By the time the cold, sick, terrified and yet so assertive blonde haired thirteen year old with burning flames in her hand enter her life, she's given up trying to hold herself and her heart back. She let them and their emotions come to her freely, and enjoys it for all it gives to her.
The word mother rolls over her lips and it's the sweetest thing Alma's ever heard.
It brings her some pain, too, though. Especially when she start getting the smaller children in her care. Olive is eight, claire is six and Bronwyn is ten. They're small enough that they remember her with more clarity than their own parents and at some point Alma finds herself wishing that they really were her children. She finds it lonely and sorrowful to think she will never have children of her own, will never experience the feeling of a little child growing inside her.
But then she reminds herself how far she's come. She remind herself of her own broken family and her vows to never let these children into her heart, and she smile.
Because she will never have children of her own, but, she thinks as she lifts Claire into one arm and Olive into the other, Bronwyn dutifully by her side and Emma on the other, she is indeed a mother.