DISLAIMER: That part of this world and those characters you've seen before belong to their Creator: JKR. The rest is mine - although I cannot quit my day job as I make no $$$ from this…
DETAILED SUMMARY:
AU. This is a time fic wherein the entire work of Canon is assumed as the base timeline, including the Epilogue. But, as a time flick, we can also ignore all of that, can't we.
For those who want a soul bond - wrong fic…
CHAPTER THREE: A LITTLE GIRL
SATURDAY, MAY 7, 1988 - LITTLE WHINGING, SURREY, U.K.
A family of three were riding in their BMW that Saturday afternoon. They had decided to take a day trip to see the sights in Surrey, a County just south of London, England. It was mainly the mother's idea. It was just a nice day for a drive and even though they lived in Essex, the County just northeast of London, they had never really seen much in Surrey. They were returning home having spent the day in Guilford, the County Town. They were talking about all the history they had seen - old churches and remains of castles and such. The little girl, the only child, sat in the front passenger seat excitedly talking about everything she had learned that day.
As they were in no rush, the father was taking a less than direct route back to the motorway that would take them back home. He and the mother enjoyed this time with their daughter. She was very bright and seemed to be curious about everything. This keen intellect showed as she was at the top of her primary school class. The only thing that concerned the parents was that there was no indication that she had made any friends in school.
Still she seemed happy, at least around them. In many ways she was and always had been an easy child. She never had to be told to do something more than once and once she was told of a rule, she never broke it. They had been spared the tantrums and moodiness that other parents complained about. And on a day like today, she was precious. Every new sight seemed to captivate her and she had a passion for old places and things. This was much easier on her parents as they shared that passion and really did not have any interest on taking her to amusement parks all the time. She liked those as well, but not nearly as much.
The car turned into a small town. The sign said "Little Whinging." The little girl commented that it was an odd name, but then noted odd names were hardly uncommon in Britain. She observed that this town seemed all too new. No interesting old buildings at all.
"Suburb," the Father noted. "Probably did not exist until after the War."
"But don't we live in one?"
The father nodded. "Ah, but Loughton is different. It was a town long, long before London grew outward to border it. It's a suburb because the city grew. It was not built as one. This place, though, was built as one by all appearances. People needing a spot to live who did not want to live in the city, but a spot close enough where they could work there if they wanted to. There's a train station the next town over that takes you into Waterloo station. From there you can take the Underground anywhere."
The little girl nodded as their car turned onto what looked like the high street of this small town. She had just noticed the town library and was turning to tell her father when her eyes were caught by something in front of them. She saw a boy had stepped off the curb and into the street right in front of their oncoming car.
"DADDY," the girl yelled.
Her father had seen the boy too. At the same time as his daughter yelled out, he had his foot slamming on the brakes and the car screeched to a halt a mere couple of yards from the boy who now looked at them in shock. She noticed the boy looked scraggly. His clothes were clearly much to big for him and his glasses looked like they were held together with tape. The boy blinked at them once and then fell to the ground in front of their car.
The father wasted no time in alighting from the vehicle. The mother was also out and by the time the girl had extricated herself from her seatbelt and reached her parents, they were checking the boy over.
"The poor child's burning with fever," the mother said. "He's breathing, but unconscious."
"Call an ambulance," the father said to the Girl. "He's hurt bad!"
"Did we…" the Girl began.
"No. His injuries are from before. Now call an ambulance!"
There was a modern call box not far down the street. The Girl knew what to do. Her parents had taught her.
"Emergency," a bored voice said over the phone.
"We need an ambulance," the little girl replied in a frightened voice.
"What happened and where are you," the voice replied realizing she was talking to a scared child.
"A boy just … just fell down! In the middle of the street just in front of us! We almost hit him."
"Did you?"
"No. But he still fell! Mummy and Daddy are checking him out. They say he's unconscious, he has a terrible fever and he's been hurt."
"Where are you?"
"Little Whinging, I think. A big street, right by the library."
"Okay, I have your call box number. An ambulance and the police have been notified. They should be there in about five minutes."
"Thank you," a relieved little girl replied just before hanging up. She ran to where her parents were kneeling beside the boy. Her mother looked up at her with tears in her eyes.
"Is he dead?" the Girl asked in shock.
"No Luv," the mother replied. "But he's in really bad shape. Whoever did this to him…"
"Wh-what happened to him?"
"He was beaten, apparently. Badly," the father replied. "I'm guessing the injuries are not life threatening, but he needs to get to a hospital."
"I called the ambulance," the Girl replied. "Said it be about five minutes."
"Good," the Father replied. "Proud of you, Sweetie."
The Girl was too worried to smile. She saw her Father checking the Boy's pockets.
"What are you doing, Daddy?"
"Trying to find any identification," he replied. "Doesn't seem to have any. Odd that. Not even a school ID card."
"He doesn't go to school?"
"Don't know. Maybe not. Maybe he just forgot to carry it with him."
"There'll be no way to tell his parents?"
The Father nodded. "Although that might be a good thing."
"Why?"
"His parents probably did this to him," her Father said without thinking. The eight year old girl knew nothing about child abuse.
"Why would they?"
The Father only shrugged.
"That's horrible! Evil!"
The Father merely nodded. His eyes had not left the boy until he heard the sirens approaching.
The Avatar had observed the whole scene. Had he been able to take a physical form he would have tried to prevent the Boy from crossing the street in the first place. It was against his nature not to try, but his form prevented him from interacting in a physical way. Moreover, things had worked out even better than he could have hoped. As soon as the little girl jumped out of the car he knew the timeline had changed dramatically. He smiled, knowing the secondary mission of improving the Boy's home life had been successful. What surprised even him was how easy and simple it had been and how luck was still something he would have to factor in going forward.
All he had done was delay the Boy's leaving the library by half an hour from the original timeline. Now the Boy would probably never be returned to that cupboard under the stairs. His Guardians would be lucky if they would be allowed custody of their own son - once they got out of prison, that is.
In the original timeline the Aunt and Uncle had returned to find the Boy in a very sorry state. Their treatment of him improved as a result. They knew how lucky they were that no one had found out about the beatings and had no desire that anyone ever would. The beatings stopped. But the mental abuse continued unabated. The Avatar was glad that that future was now history.
_____________________________________________________________
The ambulance came and took the Boy away. The police arrived as well and the Girl and her parents answered their questions about what happened. Nobody could figure out who the Boy was and those passersby who did stop did not seem to know him. On a hunch, one of the officers walked into the library. He returned a few minutes later.
"Librarian says that a boy meeting the description is somewhat of a regular. He was in there most of the day reading. As far as she knows the boy has never checked out a book and nobody knows his name."
"He didn't even have a library card," the father noted.
"Sad case," the police officer nodded, just before finishing up and letting the family head off.
All the way home the Girl, who was clearly upset, pestered her parents about the Boy. She wanted to know where he had been taken.
"He shouldn't be all alone," she insisted. Her parents could not disagree and promised her they would call around when they got home.
"That was rather easy," the Father said not long after they had returned to their home. "He's been taken to St. Bart's in London. Once he's stable, they'll transfer him to the Children's Hospital."
"Can we see him," the Girl asked?
"Not tonight. We can try in the morning, okay?"
The Girl nodded.
SUNDAY, MAY 8, 1988 - ST. BARTHOLOMEW'S CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL, LONDON, U.K.
The parent's had hoped that helping the Boy would be enough for her daughter and she would soon forget about him. It was not because they did not feel for the Boy themselves. They had a very good idea what had happened to him and if she remained close to him, she would learn things they felt she was not yet ready to learn - such as just how cruel people really can be to one another. But the poor Girl was besides herself with worry for the Boy she did not even know. Reluctantly, the parents agreed to take her to the hospital the next day and find out about the Boy. They even agreed to let her visit him when he could have visitors. What they did not tell her is that her visits would not occur if that Boy's family ever showed up. They knew that was one scene they did not want their daughter to see.
The next morning found the family at the hospital in London. The Father had called ahead, told the staff who they were and why they were coming. He was hoping to avoid any hassles.
"May I help you," a Nurse asked as the family stood at the admitting desk of the Hospital's Trauma unit. Most patients here did not walk in.
"We hope so," the Father said. "We're the Grangers. We called ahead and were wondering if we could see or hear about a boy who was admitted yesterday evening from Little Whinging?"
"Are you his family," the Nurse said clearly becoming hostile.
"No," Mr. Granger said. "We were the ones who found the poor boy and rang the ambulance."
"I did that bit," the Girl said brightly.
The Nurse seemed to relax and become pleasant again. "I see. Well, ordinarily, we would only allow family … except probably in his case. His family shows up and those nice Bobbies over there will want to have a long chat with them," she finished nodding in the direction of two police officers.
The two officers approached the Grangers.
"These are the Grangers," the receptionist said fearing the officers might think they were the culprits, "the ones who found the boy."
"Ah," one of the officer's said, "I'm Inspector Ladd, Metropolitan Police. Want you to know you probably saved that poor lad's life yesterday."
"How bad?" Mr. Granger asked.
"Awful. Worst case I'd seen that didn't involve a body. Whoever did that to him is looking at ten years or better I suspect."
"What happened to him," the Girl asked?
"His been living with bad people," the Inspector said. "They did bad things to him for a long time." He turned to the parents. "Last beatings were probably the worst. Can't say for certain. Rogers?"
"Sir," the other officer said looking at his notebook. "Boy's left arm broken in two places, breaks consistent with abuse. He's got four broken ribs, left side, punctured left lung, numerous contusions on his abdomen and upper torso. Severe lacerations on his back, consistent with a whipping, probably with a belt buckle. Oh, an my favorite," he added derisively, "probably attacked by a dog. Bite marks and puncture wounds on his left leg. Doc's feel these injuries did not happen yesterday, but certainly within the last few days. Let's see. Oh yes, severe infection with an accompanying high fever. He was seriously anemic, but that was probably due to internal bleeding as opposed to any long term health disorder. He's also suffering from acute malnutrition."
"They were starving him?" The Girl said in shock.
"Practically. X-rays show several other injuries, much older. Kid's been someone's punching bag for a long while. No evidence he's ever received proper medical care aside from seeing an optician."
"How can they say that?" Mrs. Granger asked.
"Kid's got cavities. Must hurt like the dickens for him to eat."
"Bastards," Mr. Granger muttered.
"At least," the Officer agreed.
"People," the Nurse said, "this is the attending physician, Dr. Howard. Doctor.? These are the Grangers who found the boy."
"How is he?" Mrs. Granger asked.
"We had to operate to fix his lungs and ribs," the Doctor said. "Best I can say now is he survived the procedure. He's in recovery and we've placed him in a medically induced coma. We think he'll need at least four more surgeries to repair all the damage he's sustained. We'll also see to his teeth. It's a bloody miracle he's alive at all, really."
"How long will he remain in Hospital?" Mr. Granger asked.
"Depends on his recovery," the Doctor said. "A month best case. We have no plans on releasing him until he's fully recovered."
"Physical therapy?"
"Probably. Can't say yet. But that can be done on an out-patient basis. He'll need a home, though."
Mr. Granger nodded.
"Any idea who he is?" the Inspector asked.
The Grangers shook their heads.
"We live in Essex," Mt. Granger said. "Took a weekend drive to Surrey. No clue. You?"
The Inspector also shook his head. "No missing persons reports matching his description. We're here in case his family shows. If they do, we'll invite them for a chat."
"And if they don't?"
"We give it a couple of days, then we'll start chatting with the primary schools in Surrey. That assumes, of course, he ever went to school. Worth a try. Fair few abused children do attend schools. They try to hide it and such, but…"
"What's going to happen to him?" the Girl asked?
"He won't be going back to his home, if that's where this happened," the Inspector said. "And that's where it probably did. Foster care, most like, poor lad."
The Parents looked at each other and nodded.
"Can we see him?" the Girl asked.
The Doctor nodded. "Only for a couple of minutes."
"Daddy can we?"
"You go, Sweetie."
"Don't you want to?"
"We will later. Your Mum and I want to talk with the Hospital Social Worker about him."
"Why?"
"Tell you later, Dear," Mrs. Granger replied.
_____________________________________________________________
The Girl walked into the room. The Boy lay on a bed surrounded by machines. There were tubes everywhere: sticking into his arms, down his nose, and a large one down his throat. A machine was making a hissing sound that sounded to her like breathing. She walked slowly to his side, tears were beginning to fall from her eyes. He looked so helpless.
Absently, she brushed the hair away from his face. He was still hot with fever and the Girl looked around for a cloth and some water. She found it and after wetting the cloth, walked back over and began to wipe the Boy's forehead and face. Without knowing it, she took his right hand in hers as she did. The tears never stopped falling.
"Why did they do this to you," she said. "Why?
"Who are you? I don't even know your name but feel that I should.
"Why? I know you probably cannot hear me. We found you and got you help. I want to know that you get out of this. You don't deserve what happened to you."
The Avatar was watching - as he had been since he found the Boy. The Avatar changed into his human form, confident that he was still unseen to anyone but the Boy in the coma. It was easier to watch what was going on in this form, and what was happening was truly unexpected. He had not expected this turn of events.
"I wish I knew your name," the girl cried. "You deserve a name - something I can call you. You deserve much more than you have gotten in life. You did not deserve what has happened! I wish I knew your name."
"I tell you what," the Girl continued. "Until you can tell me your real name, I'll call you Frodo. How's that sound? He's my favorite character from the Lord of the Rings. Do you know those books? Frodo is brave yet vulnerable - like you I suppose. You have to be brave, Frodo, to have survived what happened to you. I don't know how you did it. I'm just glad we found you and maybe now you can have a happy life. Yes. Frodo fits. And I'll try to be your Samwise. I'll try to keep you safe. Please, Frodo, please live. I do care about you.
"And maybe - just maybe - if you live, my Frodo - you can come and live with us and not with whoever did this to you. It would be wonderful, wouldn't it? We have a nice house and I attend a good school. I admit I don't really have any friends, Frodo, but we could be friends, couldn't we? Please? I need a friend." The Girl dissolved into tears.
And you shall have one, the Avatar thought.
A/N: Minor revision based upon a research mistake some of you caught. Originally, I had the train from Surrey arriving at an Underground Station, not a rail station. (My notes combined National Rait and Underground infrmation. Oops.