A/N: trigger warning for allusion to various types of child abuse.
At the ages of five and ten, Henry and Helena once again found themselves standing alone in an unfamiliar house with everything they owned in a plastic garbage bag. As their new foster mother rattled off some instructions about what chores they would have to do and what rooms they were allowed to go into, Henry just stared at the floor. "Yes, Mrs. Claymore," he said mechanically at the end of the lecture.
"Now go unpack your things. The bedrooms are down the hall, boys' room on the left and girls' room on the right, and it should be obvious which beds are empty."
Henry wordlessly took his sister's hand and went with her to the girls' room.
"Henry," she whispered tearfully. "Did I do something wrong?"
"Of course you didn't," said Henry. If anyone had done anything wrong, it had probably been him. Even though he had stopped talking about the magical wardrobe after that one visit to the feelings doctor. He had started telling people he didn't really remember his biological parents, and they believed him.
"Then why don't Mommy and Daddy want us anymore?"
"Don't. Call them that." Henry couldn't even look at his little sister as he piled her belongings on the plain white bedspread.
"But why don't they…"
"Because Ella has twin buns in the oven, that's why!" snapped Henry just loud enough to make a nearby four-year-old girl whimper.
"What does that even mean?" asked Helena.
"I don't know! Probably that they're having new babies to replace us!" Helena's big brown eyes filled with tears as Henry pulled the huge plastic bag shut. "Hey, it's okay." Henry leaned over and pulled his sister into a hug. "You've still got me."
"But we don't have parents anymore! Who's gonna walk me to kindergarten and cut the crusts off my sandwiches?"
"I will," Henry insisted. "Everything's gonna be okay. Now put away your things."
Helena blinked. "How?"
Henry shrugged and pointed to the narrow three door dresser at the foot of the bed. "You figure it out." Then he left for the boys' room dragging the trash bag down the hall behind him. The boys' room had a similar setup to the one the girls' room had, five single beds lined up down a long room with small dressers at the foot of the beds. Henry began unpacking his things into the dresser at the end of the one bed with nothing on it.
"Hey, new kid!"
Henry looked up and saw a boy slightly older than him with red hair and angry blue eyes. "What's wrong?"
"Don't you know that the newest kid here always has to sleep next to the vent?" He pointed to a bed at the end of the row.
"Mrs. Claymore told me to go to the bed with nothing on it."
"Yeah, well, now I'm telling you we're trading beds." The taller boy picked up the one drawer Henry had put things into and dumped it out on the floor, then immediately began moving his own belongings over to that bureau. Grudgingly, Henry waited until the older boy moved his things and then put his own things away in the bureau next to the vent
"Have fun listening to the noise all night, you little jerk," said the older boy triumphantly. "Anyways just so you know, you should use the bathroom before we go to dinner. The bedroom doors are locked at seven, and if one of us is outside of it without permission we get locked in the laundry room overnight." The older boy stomped out of the room, leaving Henry to wrap his ten-year-old mind around this new life and the fact that after three years, he'd gone from being part of a family to having the whole world against him again.
Three years and four foster homes later
The middle-aged male social worker sitting across from Henry at the table looked him dead in the eye. The thirteen-and-a-half-year-old boy's hands gripped the table, his eyes tracing the floral pattern of the table cloth.
"He started it," Henry finally said.
"It doesn't matter who started it," said the social worker. "All that I can see-and all that Mr. and Mrs. Malone can see-is that Evan kid with a broken jaw and you without a scratch."
"Evan is as big as a house!" Henry protested. "He could have defended himself if he wanted to."
"He's one year younger than you."
"But he's taller than me, and he's huge!"
The social worker leaned in closer. "Just remember this, Henry. It has taken me a great deal of effort to keep you and your sister together thus far. This is it. When I get the call from the Malones saying your time with them is up, your next stop is the boys' home. If I were you, I would try to put that off as long as possible. Have I made myself clear?"
Henry gulped. "Yes, sir."
A minute later, Henry exited the room. His sister was waiting in the hallway huddled in a chair. She got up as soon as she saw him.
"I'm sorry, Henry," she whispered.
"It's not your fault. Grown-ups are just morons."
She half smiled. "Will you help me with my homework?"
"Sure." They headed off to the living room to do their homework together at the kitchen table. Out of the eight kids in that home, Henry was the oldest and Helena was the youngest and smallest. She would have been an easy target if it wasn't for the fact that Henry would do anything to protect her and everyone knew it. This had been more necessary in some homes than others. In one place, Henry had even gotten punished for "boundary issues" because he'd routinely scolded Helena for going out into the street or near it. But how was he supposed to believe that anyone else was going to care enough to make sure she was safe?
"Don't you hate it when the teacher asks you to write an essay about family or something?" complained Helena. "I'm supposed to write about the best day I ever spent with my parents."
"Wish I could help you there," said Henry sympathetically. "Like I've told you, the one day you spent with our real parents kind of sucked."
Helena smiled. "Because that was the day the evil witch came to destroy our home…"
"…and we hid from her in a magical wardrobe." The story that Henry still occasionally told his sister in full and she wished she could still fully believe.
Henry suddenly tensed when he saw Evan entering the room. "Stay here." He got up and marched as inconspicuously as possible over to the younger taller boy.
"You want to fight again, punk?" Evan smirked.
"No," said Henry as calmly as he could. "All I want you to know is…you lay a hand on her again, you're dead. I mean it. You're lucky I caught you before anything else happened."
Evan just smiled coolly. The fact that he didn't even have the decency to look angry just made it harder for Henry not to punch him again. "You sure you're doing the right thing threatening me? Maybe she would have liked it."
"She's. Nine."
"So? I was three." Evan turned and walked away. Henry didn't go after him.
"Are you sure you shouldn't tell Mrs. Malone what he did?" asked Helena softly when he came back over to her. "Maybe she would have punished him herself."
"No she wouldn't," said Henry. "Nobody cares about us. Besides, I don't think he'll bother you again. There are plenty of girls here who don't have big brothers."
Helena half-smiled and let Henry sling his arm around her shoulders and help her finish her essay, torn between the feeling of relief that she would always be safe as long as Henry had anything to say about it and feeling a tad bit selfish for it.
Four years later
Just six weeks until his eighteenth birthday. Six more months of high school after that. And then he would be out of the system for good. Not that it was that bad here. The boys' home was a comfortable place to live and all, and he was never denied basic necessities. But none of the boys here were looked after the way children in stable homes with good parents were. It gave them an empty feeling that if asked, they all would have denied.
Henry had been sent to live here when he hit fifteen and was finally deemed too old to be around the kids at the Malones' home. At first it had been kind of a relief to not to feel responsible for Helena 24/7 for the first time since the day she was born, then he'd hated himself for feeling the relief and tried to call and visit with her as much as possible. Evan had long since been sent somewhere else, but Henry had worried plenty about her wellbeing apart from him anyway. Things had gotten slightly better when Helena transitioned to the girls' home at the age of twelve. She was as well cared for there as he was at the boys' home, which was the best he felt they could hope for at this point.
"The curtains are on fire! The curtains are on fire!"
Henry leapt up from his seat at the sound of his roommate's panicked voice. He let out a sigh when he saw that there was actually nothing wrong with the curtains or anything else in the room.
"Don't do that, jerk," snapped Henry.
"No! I mean it! The monster is going to blow us away!" Henry's roommate leapt under the bed and started screaming. Henry rolled his eyes and left to go get an adult. Then he had to stay out of his room for the next few hours while his roommate was being taken to the hospital and his belongings were being searched.
Two days later, Henry was told that the young man had been arrested for drug possession and he was getting a new roommate. "That's cool," said Henry dryly. He'd been hoping to have the room to himself for a little while, but surely any roommate was better than a neurotic LSD addict.
"Your new roommate is a little younger than you are, but I'm putting him specifically with you because I know you tend to be on the milder side, Henry," the adult in charge informed him. He'd figured out over the years that the grown-ups in this home tended to use 'mild' to describe the boys who were least likely to break the rules, get into violent arguments with others, and/or destroy their and other's belongings in a fit of rage. No place else would anyone describe Henry as mild. At school, his male classmates were more likely to describe him as moody or weird, and the girls were more likely to describe him as mysterious and sexy. Henry had never had a solid group of buddies at school or any of his homes, but he'd certainly spent more than one study hall period in the janitor's closet making out with more than one chick.
"The boy was found wandering around by the side of the road a few hours ago," the adult continued. "He hasn't spoken to anyone yet, and no one knows who his parents are or why he was alone. Just keep in mind that he might need some space to settle in."
"Yes, sir."
The boy showed up at their room soon after. As they'd said, he was obviously several years younger than Henry. His skin was tan and his hair and eyes pitch dark.
"Um…hi. I'm Henry."
The boy just blinked and sat down on his naked bed. After a minute, Henry shrugged and got back to finishing his homework.
"Baelfire."
Henry's head shot up, slightly startled that the boy had spoken.
"Excuse me?"
"My name's Baelfire."