This chapter is my take on the movie's best, most intense scene: when Miss Peregrine lets Barron take her prisoner in exchange for sparing her kids. (You really see her badass side there.) I didn't follow the scene line-for-line, and I tried to add a few new elements by telling it through Miss Peregrine's perspective. It turned out more melodramatic than I'd intended.
My entry for the September Song Challenge at the Plight of the Little-Known Fandom forum.
"I give the orders in this house, Mr. Barron."
Her blood ran cold when she opened her door and saw Barron standing there. Her heart raced, pounding in her chest as if it were trying to burst free, at the sight of his white eyes, his pointed fangs, his hand transformed into a long, smooth blade against Jake's throat. But she gathered all her willpower and forced herself to stay calm.
She knew that Barron had planned to see her fearful, catching her by surprise like this. Perhaps he'd even expected her to gasp or cry or beg, and perhaps some lesser ymbryne would have – but Barron had underestimated Alma Peregrine. She kept her head high, and when she pointed at him and ordered him to shush, he was so taken aback that he blinked and fell silent.
With Barron quiet, she took a deep breath and turned to face her children. They were right there, watching her and Barron, and the fear in their little faces made her heart break. Would this be the last time that she ever saw them?
But no, she mustn't let herself think about that. She must stay calm. You can do this, Alma, she told herself, you can do it for them – and she could. If she let her children take orders from Barron, if she let them see her acting weak or scared... they would never forget it even if they lived for a thousand years.
"Children, we're going to do what Mr. Barron asks," she told them, and though she kept her hands from shaking, her voice trembled. "He'd like me to assume bird form, preferably caged," she said, and she addressed her children, but she said this for Barron, to make him understand that she wouldn't resist him. She would become a bird and let him put her in a cage, take her to Blackpool, and experiment on her. The thought made her sick, but she would let him do whatever he wanted to her, as long as he didn't touch her children.
"And he'd like you to make your way into a lockable room such as the parlor," she went on, raising her voice so that Miss Avocet, safely hidden on the other side of the parlor door, could hear her and understand that Miss Peregrine was entrusting her children to her. They belonged together: Miss Avocet had just lost her own children, and Miss Peregrine's children were losing their ymbryne now. They would be safe with her. When the Hollow came, Jake would see it in time for Miss Avocet to kill it. When the Nazi bombs fell, Miss Avocet would reset their loop. Miss Peregrine would likely die in Barron's experiment, but if Barron took her life for theirs, she would not complain. She would count it as fair trade.
But as her children slowly filed past her into the parlor, looking up at her uncertainly, she couldn't meet their eyes. Olive was leading Claire, and Emma was holding hands with the twins, and that comforted Miss Peregrine. She knew that her older children would look after the little ones until they were used to their new ymbryne. Miss Avocet barely knew them, and even if Miss Peregrine had time to give her instructions – even if she had years – she could never have told her enough about caring for them.
Claire and the twins need a story at bedtime. Every night after the reset, Miss Peregrine sat on one of their beds and read to them while they snuggled against her on either side. Peter Pan was their favorite, even though Captain Hook was scary, because Peter was like them: he never grew up.
Fiona needs to be called in early before meals. Her little gardener could get dirtier than the rest of her children combined. She would spend all afternoon in her garden and come inside almost blackened with dirt. "Fiona, sometimes I think your peculiarity must be getting dirty. Come wash up before supper, please," Miss Peregrine would say, but her tone was kind. Tone made a world of difference to children, and she always watched hers when she spoke to them. She made sure that they could hear the love in her voice, even when she was reprimanding them. Would Miss Avocet know how to do that?
Bronwyn needs to be reminded to be gentle. Although she didn't need reminders as often since she'd fractured Twin A's arm. They were playing tag, and she forgot her strength and tagged him too hard. Twin A cried from the pain, and Twin B cried because his brother was crying, and Bronwyn, poor girl, felt so horrible that she'd hidden under her bed and cried hardest of all. What a day that had been, trying to calm the three of them and figure out how to splint Twin A's arm without looking at him. But she hadn't complained. Caring for these children was her privilege.
It had been her privilege for such a long time, which made it even harder to have end it like this. She pictured Miss Avocet reading a bedtime story to Claire and the twins, and her heart suddenly burned with jealousy to imagine another woman, even another ymbryne, taking care of her children. They belonged to her. She was the one who made sure that Hugh didn't let his bees out during meals, and Millard didn't sneak about naked, and they all did their chores on time. She had thought up Emma's lead shoes to keep her from floating away, and Olive's leather gloves to keep her from setting everything on fire, and the twins' costumes to keep them from turning everyone into stone. She knew their favorite foods, knew how to settle their arguments, knew who needed space when they were angry and who needed a hug when they were anxious. She had tended to their every need for nearly eighty years. How could Miss Avocet ever do it as well?
She had vowed to stay strong, to not let her children see her acting weak or scared, but then, just before Emma went into the parlor with the twins, she stopped and hugged her. Miss Peregrine hugged her back, of course, and she felt the twins hugging her around her waist, and their arms around her made her strong resolve crumble. Tears streamed from her eyes, but still she smiled and told herself that no matter what happened next, she would always treasure this moment. She tried to memorize how Emma's hair felt against her cheek, how twins' arms were too short to wrap fully around her.
Miss Peregrine had never been very affectionate with her children. She'd never even said I love you to them, but she didn't regret that now, for she knew that they'd heard it. I love you was there in the tick of her pocketwatch, the smell of her pipe, the bend of her hair. It was there now in her hands, gently holding Emma's face, cupping the back of Twin B's head as they went past her into the parlor.
Emma and the twins were the last ones. Now, much too soon, her children were all in the parlor, huddled together, close to tears themselves, and there was nothing left for Miss Peregrine to do but say goodbye.
Her children didn't know that the tears on her face weren't for them, but for herself. She knew full well how much they adored her – the little ones practically thought she'd hung the moon in the sky – and she wept to imagine that now some other ymbryne would care for them and eventually replace her in their eyes. Pity was new to her; she'd never had time to pity herself before, with eleven children to look after, but she could allow herself this one selfish act before the end.
She gripped the parlor doors firmly with both hands and gave her children her most reassuring smile – as if everything were all right, as if there were no tears on her cheeks, as if Barron wasn't waiting there to take her away. She wanted to be smiling the last time that her children saw her.
"It's been my privilege," she said bravely, "to care for you all. Goodbye, my children."
The last thing that her eyes settled on, before she closed and locked the doors, was little Claire, clinging to Olive and making the face that meant she was about to cry.
This time, when Claire cried, for the first time in nearly eighty years, Miss Peregrine would not be there to comfort her.
She had to lean against the closed doors for a moment, her shoulders heaving, before she could turn around to face Barron and Jake. Her words repeated inside her head. It's been my privilege to care for you all – and it was true.
Dying for these children would be her privilege now.