Hi guys, I'm finally writing you a new authors note instead of just editing the old one! Today I'm bringing Henry into all of this! Yay Henry! He's so cute! By the way, by this point, Ashley and Gregory/Alexander are about 2. ~ Tygger
3
Helen sat down, exhausted, she'd been searching all day for what the UK Sanctuary had described as a possible werewolf child wondering around on the moors all alone. She was frustrated by her inability to find the child and annoyed that this search was keeping her from her own children. It was a cool day, but she'd overdressed and was sweaty and hungry. Irritated, she pulled her jacket off and dug around in her bag for a snack. She managed a smile as she pulled out a pair of turkey sandwiches wrapped in cling wrap. Both sandwiches were labbled in Big Foot's printing, one said For Helen and the other said For The Werewolf Kid. She unwrapped her sandwich and took a big bite, breathing in the frosty Scottish air deeply, "God bless him."
"Hm," Helen looked up sharply at the noise to see a scruffy little boy of about seven years old crouching behind a rock a few feet away. The boy had long, tangled brown hair and a serious face smudged with dirt. He wore a rough, torn garment that looked rather like a burlap sack from where Helen was sitting. He glared at her, eyeing the sandwich on her lap.
"Hello," she smiled. His eyes widened and he stumbled backwards, turning to run. Helen held out her hands, "Wait!"
He stopped, glancing back at her as she broke her sandwich in half and held it out to him. He made a funny little moaning noise and sniffed the air like a dog.
She slipped slowly off her rock and knelt on the damp ground so she could lean towards him, arm outstretched, sandwich in hand, "Would you like some?"
The little boy's body was tense and for a minute, she wondered silently if he could understand her at all. Then he slowly nodded, reaching out and snatching the sandwich from her. She grinned as he stuffed the bread in his mouth like he hadn't eaten in weeks. She unwrapped the other sandwich and handed that to him too.
"Don't eat to fast," she warned him, "You'll make yourself sick."
"Hmph," he grunted, stuffing more food in his mouth as if to make a point.
"Don't say I didn't warn you." She shrugged, "I'm Helen. Do you have a name?"
He stopped and stared at her for a good long minute before he shook his head. She recognized a pair of very scared, very human, green eyes under his mass of hair. Her expression turned grim, under all that dirt, he had the potential to be a very normal little boy. Usually with children like this, she took them back to the nearest Sanctuary to be cleaned up and adopted out to the nearest Abnormal caring foster family who would take them, but this boy tickled her interest. No, she decided, this one would come back to her Sanctuary, she would see to him personally. She had a good Abnormal couple in mind who had been unable to have children of their own, they would be happy to take this boy. She suddenly became aware of his shivering and reached back to grab her coat. The boy flinched as she tucked it around his shoulders, but didn't try to run or hit her. In fact, he pulled the fabric tighter around his thin body and sniffed it before rubbing the soft lining against his cheek.
Slowly, so as not to startle him, Helen packed up her bag and reached for his hand. He stared at her standing here for a moment before he reached out to grasp the tips of her fingers with his. She smiled, "Come on, little one, I'll take you home with me."
He climbed to his feet and grasped her hand, holding the coat around him and nodded. Helen lead him back to her car and opened the door for him. He hesitated and looked frightened, but she smiled reassuringly and lifted him into the front seat. He wouldn't let her put the seat belt on him, but the drive wasn't that long to the nearest Sanctuary so she let it slide. Hopping into the driver's seat, she turned the car and that was about when the boy went wild. He made a high pitched sound like a puppy yelping and started flailing, but couldn't seem to figure out how to open the door. Panicking, Helen dove for a sedative while trying to calm him down.
"Shhh, it's okay, it's just a car," she explained, but he didn't seem to be buying it. Out of no where, his elbow caught her in the jaw and she let out a little yell. He froze and watched her wipe the little bit of blood from her split lip, it was going to bruise, she decided, but no real harm was done. She glanced over at the now silent boy and did a little double take. The child was looking at her with the biggest, most apologetic, sea green eyes she'd ever seen. He looked at the already forming bruise on her face and his bottom lip trembled, his eyes getting starry with tears. He started whimpering and she made a pouting face at him, "Oh stop it, I'm not mad."
He continued to make what she thought was the saddest sound she'd ever heard, so she leaned over and gave him a quick little hug to prove her point. He fell silent again and started wiping tears from his dirty little cheeks. He seemed to be alright with the car being on by now, but not so much with the moving, but the time they reached the Sanctuary, she was fairly sure he'd stopped breathing. She scooped him up into her arms and carried him to the front door, knocking with her free hand.
"Helen!" Watson beamed at her as he opened the door, "You found the kid!"
"Of course I found him, James," she smiled back, "I wouldn't have come back yet if I hadn't."
"Of course," He nodded, "Well, lets get him cleaned up."
After an hour of stressful scrubbing and dressing, the boy finally looked human again. He wouldn't let them cut his hair, but Helen decided she could deal with that later. They'd left him in the room next to her's, expecting him to be tired out by the stress, but when she woke up in the middle of the night, he was sitting on the end of her bed.
"Hello," She greeted him. He glanced at her and smiled a little, before showing her what he held in his hands. The photograph was old, ancient in fact, and made her wonder what had become of the frame it belonged to, but it most importantly was a photo of her father's old weapon's maker. She remembered snapping that photo back when cameras were new and novel things. The boy took the photo back from her and flipped it over. She recognized her own neat hand writing on the back where she'd written his name, Henry Emerson Foss. The boy pointed to the writing, a questioning look in his eyes. She smiled, "That's his name," She explained, "Henry. Henry Emerson Foss."
"En-ree…" The little boy fumbled in his darling little Scottish accent, then pointed to himself, "En-ree Foss?"
"You like that name?" She asked and he nodded. She beamed at him, "Alright, why not. Every Magnus needs a Henry Foss at one point or another."
"Mag-gus?" He asked.
"Oh," she explained, "That's me. Helen Magnus."
"Mag-gus need En-ree?" He asked, wrinkling up his nose, "Why?"
She smiled at his curiousness, "We all need other people to make us feel safe."
"Safe…" He tested the word and leaned against her shoulder, nodding, "Safe."
They sat there in silence for a moment before she glanced down at him, "Henry?"
The only response she got was a soft snore. Chuckling to herself, she gathered the scrawny boy up in her arms and carried him back across the hall to his room. Gently, she laid him in the bed and tucked the blankets up around his chin. Unable to resist her motherly urges, she smooth the hair back from his forehead and placed a soft kiss on his temple, "Good-night, Henry Foss."
Obviously this one's way longer than the others, don't expect them all to be this way now, I just couldn't find a good place to end it. Again, fluffy, I will eventually get to the angsty stuff, but meh. ~ Tygger
