November 8, 1954
The day that Moira met her daughter had been a bad one. The typing pool was everything she'd heard it would be, and worse. Apparently the presence of a woman with aspirations to be an agent wasn't something that the CIA wanted to deal with. The fact that she was fresh out of college didn't help either.
Sighing she rubbed her temples. The house she rented was a small thing on the edge of town. If it had better facilities, like water that could always be counted on to run hot or a heating system that always worked, then it wouldn't have been such a bargain. Her aunt had left her enough money to get a place to live, but not enough for a particularly good one.
Never mind. She wanted to show that no matter how hard things got, she was going to stay with the CIA for the long haul. She wanted to change the world, make a difference. No one was going to discourage her from it. Moira would become an agent if it killed her.
She sank down into a chair and tried to turn on the lamp next to her. The light bulb had burned out. Excellent. Moira leaned her head back and rubbed her eyes. She could stand to be in the dark until morning. She'd get a new light bulb before she went out to work or during her lunch break.
Kicking off her shoes she closed her eyes. She felt like she could sleep for days. Levine had told her she didn't look so good lately. Moira had told him it was just a little hard getting used to the hours. He hadn't quite believed her, she knew that, but he'd been good enough to keep quiet and get back to work.
Levine was her only friend at work, the one person she could talk to without feeling judged. There were no other women in her sector and the ones that she ran into were receptionists. She always got the feeling that they were privately laughing at her. Moira got the feeling from a lot of the men, but that was because they weren't doing their laughing in private. They weren't doing their leering in private either.
After she made friends with Levine that changed somewhat. He was known for being intolerant of sexist remarks, not because he was a stickler for equality, but because he thought they were rude. He'd been raised by parents who'd taught him his manners. She was appreciative of that, something was better than nothing, as well as his willingness to work with her.
He was planning on becoming an agent one day too and, like her, he was working his way up. Levine had been to good colleges, pushed there by an excellent football scholarship. He was crippled in a different way than her though. He'd been there longer than she had and had gained a reputation for being slow on the uptake.
Moira had quickly realized that it wasn't true. What he was was simple, and they were different things. He saw the world in shades of black and white. It wasn't a problem of intelligence; it was just perception. He hadn't been brought up to recognize underhanded actions, probably reinforced by those manner-teaching parents.
He was learning though, slowly but surely. She was too. They'd both become agents one day, she was sure of that. They were going to get out of the typing pool and into surveillance. From surveillance they might actually get into one of the bigger departments. It was something and a career coudl be launched from it. They were just going to have to prove themselves.
Yawning Moira got up. It was a fight for another day though. At the moment work was over and she needed to get some rest. It was already late and she'd have to be up early to get to work on time. When she asked for that promotion she wasn't going to have a single late day; she'd already decided on it.
Outside she heard a crash. She frowned. It sounded like her garbage cans had been knocked over. Moira was about to chalk it up to raccoons when she thought she heard a guttural sound to accompany it. Feeling foolhardy and irritated at the same time she grabbed a flashlight from her kitchen door, as well as a baseball bat.
Cautiously she crept to the back door. There was something moving around outside alright. Moira had been athletic though; she knew how to use the baseball bat. Whoever, or whatever, was out there was about to get clobbered. She took a deep breath and then flung the door open, switching on her flashlight.
Yellow eyes glared up at her through a furry face. Fangs protruded from a snout and the creature growled. Moira instantly thought of wolves, but there were no wolves in Washington. She was fairly sure of that. Her instinct was to hit it and drive it off, but her analytical side paused to take note of the anomaly.
The second thing she noticed was the furry hand that was clasped over the side of the garbage can. She blinked. It was a paw, wasn't it? No, it had four fingers and a thumb. That was definitely a hand. That meant that, whatever else the creature was in front of her was, at least some degree of it was human.
Her mind went to legends of werewolves but she dismissed them quickly. She hadn't gotten to where she was by cooberating what she saw with legends. Feeling a little silly she lowered the flashlight out of the creature's, no, human's, it was human, eyes. Then she cleared her throat and said;
"It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you."
The growling subsided somewhat. Still feeling a silly she swallowed.
"Are you okay?"
The person in front of her nodded slightly, shrinking away. Moira knew better than to take a step towards them, it couldn't end well.
"Are you sure?" she asked, "Are you looking for someone?"
The person hesitated. Slowly she watched as the snout shrank in and the eyes turned to brown. A little girl was taking shape, no older than five Moira estimated. Thick brown hair fell around her face as the fur receded on her skin. Moira pushed down her initial shock; the girl was watching her. It was like she was expecting that doing whatever she had just done would be the final straw to her running off.
"Are your parents around?"
It was a stupid question. It was better than asking about the fur or her fangs though. The girl shook her head.
"Do you want to come in?" she tried.
The girl shook her head furiously and began backing away.
"Okay," Moira said, "Okay."
The girl stopped and Moira swallowed. She didn't know what to do. Her phone didn't work and she had no idea who she'd call about this even if it was. Still, she wasn't going to let this girl leave when she'd obviously been rooting around in the garbage for food. Moira tried to gather her thoughts.
"Stay here for five minutes, okay?" she said.
Without waiting for an answer Moira dashed back into her house. It was getting cold out; she grabbed the warmest sweater she could find. It would be too long on the girl, but she didn't have time to change it. She grabbed one of her messenger bags and filled it with things that wouldn't go bad quickly, including a bottle or two of water. It wasn't much, but she was afraid that the girl had already left.
Moira ran out the back door. To her relief the girl was still there. She hadn't moved since Moira had left, but when she burst out she took several steps back. Moira stopped then, not wanting to scare her off. The girl stopped too, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Slowly Moira put the sweater and bag on the ground.
"For you," she said, "if you want it. It's all okay."
Without saying anything else Moira backed away slowly. The girl never took her eyes off her, looking somewhat puzzled. She closed the door behind her and walked away. In the morning she returned and found the sweater and bag gone. Smiling to herself Moira headed off to work, feeling a little better than she had been the night before.
A week passed. Moira thought about the unusual little girl often, mostly in the moments between her work. She wondered if she was alright, how she was doing out on the streets. She'd been so small after all. Levine had asked her if she was fine and she'd repeated that she was just adjusting. It was a lie she found herself saying more and more.
That night she heard scraping noises on the back porch. Moira had gotten up and opened the back door cautiously. No one had been there, nothing but a wrinkled scrap of paper had been left on the porch. She picked it up and saw a crayon drawing of a rainbow. Smiling Moira walked back inside the house. She tacked it up to her otherwise austere fridge. It made the room look a little more lived in.
Two days passed and she heard another noise at the back door. This time when she opened the door she saw the girl standing there, wearing an oversized sweater and carrying the messenger bag slung over her shoulder. Moira smiled but didn't move towards her. The girl wasn't nearly as skittish as she'd been when Moira had first seen her, but she didn't want to push her luck.
"Thank you for your drawing," she said.
The girl looked down at the ground. She fingered the sweater and whispered;
"Thank you."
The two words caught Moira off guard. She'd been so silent last time that Moira had wondered if she could talk. Recovering she smiled again.
"You're very welcome," she said, "I've got some things I can bring out, if you want."
The girl nodded. Moira went back inside. It became a weekly ritual. The girl would show up at her door and Moira would give her food. The next day she would receive a drawing on her back porch. Her refrigerator was soon a show of life, paneled with the different drawings of the young girl.
It took her three weeks before the girl actually came inside. Moira had been brewing hot chocolate. It was beginning to get cold outside and she'd hoped that the girl would come and warm herself for a few minutes. Her heating was still poor but it was better than outside. After much coaxing she had come in.
She'd looked around the house almost fearfully and had peered suspiciously into the cup. When she gave in she drank from her mug like a girl possessed, nearly burning her tongue on the hot chocolate. Moira's heart ached for her, wishing she could do more, but the girl left after a few minutes. She couldn't force her to stay, much as she wished she could.
She never stayed long and never said more than a few syllables. It was puzzling to her. When her excuse had worn thin on Levine she'd confessed. Moira made sure to leave out the bit about the wolf features. The girl had never done it again after that first night but Moira had seen paw prints around her house sometimes. It had happened. It had been strange, but it had happened.
He hadn't exactly been supportive. He'd told her he hoped she knew what she was doing and moved on. Moira had refrained from discussing the girl with anyone after that. They continued on in their routine, Moira finding clothes in stores that she felt would fit the girl better and more nutritious foods. Then, one day in December near Christmas, a storm blew in.
Moira looked out the window at the blizzard. The snow had fallen several feet thick overnight. Only essential personnel had been called in to work, she'd finally gotten that phone working, and she wasn't essential. This once she was grateful about her insignificance. At the same time she was worried about the girl. She was so small and all alone in that weather.
In the end she decided to look for her. She had no idea where to start, but she had to try. Moira donned her coat and opened the back door. She hadn't gone more than a handful of steps before she heard a scuffling sound. She swung her flashlight around and saw brown eyes trembling under the beam.
Trudging through the snow Moira went up to her. She assured her in what little comforting language she knew and, shifting her flashlight, picked her up. The girl didn't protest and allowed herself to be carried back to the house. She shivered all the way, her small form trembling violently in the icy weather.
Kicking the door open and closed Moira carried the girl upstairs. She tried to dry her off and filled the tub with warm water. The girl eyed the water and jumped in, her clothes turning it black almost immediately. She didn't seem to notice, her knees pulled up to her chin. Moira got her clothes that she'd been planning to give her and a towel to place near the tub. The girl watched her, her eyes wide.
As Moira knelt down to put the clothes by the tub the girl reached out. She wrapped her wet arms around Moira. The suddenness of the action shocked her, as well as the strength of the girl's grip. Tentatively Moira hugged her back. The girl was crying softly and Moira began murmuring as many words of comfort as she could. When the girl finally pulled back she said;
"My name's Rahne."
She said it like it was a deep secret and Moira felt like she'd been trusted with something precious. Smiling softly she touched Rahne's face.
"Mine's Moira," she said.
Rahne hugged her again. Moira helped her dry off and get dressed. She made sure that Rahne ate a hot dinner that night, not too much since she didn't know how much she'd eaten lately. Throughout Rahne didn't say much, only looking up at Moira from time to time in deep thought.
After an hour or so Moira tucked Rahne in in her bed. She turned off the light and went to the couch, grabbing a blanket as she went. The couch was big and the springs creaked under her weight. She had just started to drift off when she felt someone pull back the cover. Surprised Moira looked up to see Rahne snuggling in next to her. She looked at Moira shyly.
"Can I stay?"
Something in Rahne's tone implied that she wasn't just talking about where she was on the couch. Her voice was raw and pleading. It broke Moira's heart and made her wish she could take away the pain that she had gone through. She pulled the blanket over the two of them, stroking Rahne's hair softly.
"Of course," Moira said.