A Danger to Her
Summary: After Lost in Paris, Madeline is home at last and everything is fine. Yet Miss Clavel just can't help but think of regret to something she didn't know would happen.
Disclaimer: I don't know Madeline and this came to my head after thinking that maybe Miss Clavel had regrets over what happened to Madeline.
Clara Clavel had only gotten herself about five to six hours of sleep the day that Madeline was reported missing by her and the police.
She was lucky enough to find the girl warm, dry, and with a bit of a haircut the next day. And maybe a little bit hungry but thankfully unharmed.
Madeline was no doubt exhausted after her ordeal as Miss Clavel had excused her to bed early after their evening bread and butter.
Yet while her girls could sleep safe and warm in their beds, Clara had a harder time, clutching a fist as she thought of the man that took advantage of Madeline.
Uncle Horst or Herri as his real name was nothing more than a lying bastard, having her wish she had done something more than to beg him to lead her and the police to Madeline.
She could've killed the bastard if she wanted to. But it wouldn't have looked good on her teaching record nor would it wouldn't have looked good to the girls who looked up to her.
Especially Madeline.
The moment that they had reunited with each other tugged at her heart as a tear ran down Clara's cheek.
All she could think of was regret. She regretted of not thinking of Madeline's safety. How was she to know that the girl had been fooled and her dreams of having a family were crushed in one day?
She didn't.
Yet the ache in her heart wouldn't vanish.
Clara wasn't blaming herself by any means. How could she? She didn't know she had been tricked by a man pretending to care for her angel.
Yet she couldn't help but remember Madeline's downward eyes as they embraced in private and away from the other girls.
The little girl had been trying not to cry after everything she had been through and it broke Clara.
It had her realize that she had been a danger to the child just for something she didn't know would happen.
But Madeline didn't need to know that. Nor did she need to know the ache continuing to harvest itself into Clara's heart.
A cry she could hear from the girls room as she felt another tear go down her cheek.
That wasn't just any cry. That was Madeline's cry.
Madeline rarely cried.
Her angel, the bravest little girl in all of Paris, was crying in her own anguish.
Clara may have been aching from her own regrets but for the moment, she pushed them aside.
Madeline needed comforting and as someone who would never trick her or crush her dreams like the man that fooled the both of them did, Clara was going to console the child in hopes that it would heal her aching of regret.