I've been planning this chapter for a while, but we've finally reached the reveal.
Don't worry though, we still have a story arc or two to get through before a quit :)
As ever this is dedicated to my dear friend, sugar-feather45, who changed her username to lilacsugar45.
On with the show :D
Miss Peregrine was emotionally exhausted from her phone call with Abe. She didn't know what to do now, and she hated not knowing. She buried her face in her hands and let out a long suffering sigh. Then, she jerked her head out of her hands and stood up. She needed to be logical right now, and need to do something.
Esmé would want an explanation, and she needed to be ready to give him one. She needed a plan. Alright, she can do that.
The best thing to do now was to be open and honest, but not bring up Esmé's... relation to her until he asked first. The problem with this plan is if her other children notice their similarities, and ask her before Esmé.
Miss Peregrine was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice that Hugh had joined her.
"Miss Peregrine?"
She startled, almost tripping. Hugh looked her up and down.
"Oh! Sorry, Hugh. Do you need anything?" she said, pushing away her embarrassment.
"I wanted to get some honey."
Miss Peregrine stared at him, confused, before realizing she had been so distracted she had wandered into the kitchen to make tea, as was her habit when she was stressed. That and chain-smoking her pipe, but she had to stop ever since Claire came home from school sobbing about the dangers of lung cancer.
"Oh, yes. Sorry, Hugh." She pulled a bowl and the honey from the cabinet, poured a generous amount, and handed the bowl and a spoon to Hugh.
"Fshanks," he said around the spoon and left before she could scold him for talking with his mouth full.
-xXx-
Esmé leaned against Fiona's bunk bed as she read out homework questions to him.
"Okay, 'A freight elevator has a carrying capacity of 1500 pounds. If the average weight of a barrel is 100 pounds and the average weight of a crate is 150 pounds, graph the equation that represents what combination barrels (x) and crates (y) the the elevator can carry.'"
Esmé hummed then replied, "Write down the equation 1500 is greater than or equal to 100x plus 150y. Then turn the greater than or equal to into an equal sign. Then solve for x and y individually as equal to 1500. The answers you get for those are your x and y intercepts, so graph them. Since the combined weight of barrels and crates are less than or equal to 1500, you use a solid line to connect them. Then, shade the triangle between zero and your line."
Fiona followed his instructions and scribbled down her answer.
"How can you remember all this?" she asked.
"Not sure," he said. "I have a very good memory."
Fiona laughed.
"I can only solve most of this because Miss Peregrine drilled it into my head," she said as she leaned on her hand.
Esmé snickered.
"She cares a lot about your grades," he commented.
"Oh, no." Fiona shook her head. "Miss P wants us to do well, but she's not very concerned for our grades. As long as we're passing. She understands that the curriculum here is very generalized compared to when she taught us."
"You were homeschooled?"
"Yep. Miss Peregrine taught all of us, we even turned our library into a classroom!"
Esmé wrapped his arms around his knees. "It sounds wonderful." He smiled.
"Yeah." Fiona sighed. "We still miss it, but we like it here." She focused on the floor, but she noticed something strange on the bottom of Esmé's shoe. "What's that?"
"Oh, this?" he asked. He lifted his foot so she could better see the words scrawled on sole.
"Yeah."
"It's just," He hesitated. "It's just the families I've stayed with."
"There... are a lot of names."
"Yeah," he sighed and dropped his foot. He wrapped his arms around his knees. "I just wasn't... the right kid for them. Well, at least some of them. I've run away from a few. I've been bounced a lot. Families just don't want to deal with a kid like me."
Fiona frowned. "What do you mean?There's nothing wrong with you, if that's what you think. You're nice and smart and kind. If they don't like it shame on them."
Esmé laughed. "I wish everyone was as nice as you. But the problem is less about me as a person. Some people can't support a kid with potential medical issues. And I understand that, I do, but it's just... it's not my fault."
Fiona tilted her head. "Medical issues?"
Esmé sighed, and Fiona feared she made him uncomfortable. "It's okay if you don't want to tell me! I understand."
"No, it's alright," Esmé placated. "It's just hard to explain." He looked tonightful for a moment then continued, "My hair." He tugged at a curly lock. "It's not dyed. It naturally grows dark blue. The doctors thought it was a rare form of Cyanosis, y'know, oxygen deficiency in the blood. They tried treating me, but the medicine made me very sick. Then there's my hands." He gestured with them. "Sometimes I get get sudden, painful spasms all down my arms. I think they're called 'Carpopedal spasms'. The doctors couldn't tell me why they happen. I'll just be daydreaming, then bam they happen."
He sighed again, "Most just aren't able to, or don't want to, support a kid with a potential heart defect. Even if my heart is completely healthy, medically speaking. Then, there's my shoulders..." He shrugged in emphasis. "My shoulder blades, the scapulas, are deformed. They're longer and thinner than they should be. Like a bird's," he supplied.
"Oh! Miss Peregrine has those too!" Fiona said.
Esmé was taken aback.
"R- really?"
Fiona nodded. "Her hair is naturally blue, like yours. And she once showed us how her scapulas formed differently, like yours!"
She didn't mention that Esmé's spasms and shoulder formation sounded suspiciously like Miss Peregrine's description of the process of peculiar shape shifting. She had explained to them that, if not done properly, the transformation can cause painful spasms for young peculiars, and shapeshifters human appearance would be altered to be similar to their animal form.
Esmé looked surprised, then confused. He stared thoughtfully at his hands. Fiona watched him loose himself in thought until her curiosity boiled over.
"What are you thinking?" she asked.
"Nothing, it's just..." he paused, not sure how to word his response. "It's just it is very peculiar. Miss Peregrine and I have a lot of similarities."
Fiona eyed him, sensing his underlying question.
"We're both from England," he continued, counting on his fingers. "We both have naturally blue hair, we have the same name, we have almost the exact same features, and we both have a congenital bone deformity, so it's likely an inherited trait."
Fiona raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing so he plowed on. "A woman donated a stuffed toy to me when I was little."
Fiona's eyebrows raised higher, starting to put the pieces together.
"It was a handmade teddy bear. Made from blue flannel and had a dark blue bow tie," he said. Esmé looked up into Fiona's stunned face. Then whispered, "They lady who sent it to me was from Wales."
Fiona looked shocked at his implication, then whispered, "Miss Peregrine made all of us teddy bears when she first took us in. And we moved here from Wales. You don't suspect that-"
Esmé cut her off, "I'm not suspecting anything. It's just that she was very surprised to see me. And a little too quick to change the subject."
Fiona laid on the floor, looking not unlike a bird that flew into a window.
"Holy shit. You're related to Miss Peregrine," she whispered faintly. They sat there in stunned silence, reeling from the revelation that Esmé and Miss Peregrine could very well be blood relatives. "Like I know she had brothers, two of them, but she doesn't like to talk about them," she rambled, grasping at straws. Is it possible that one of them could have had a kid? Was it possible Miss Peregrine knew she had a nephew. Both of her brothers could turn into falcons, Fiona knew that, so maybe...
Fiona sat up. Esmé could be peculiar. That would explain his hair color and his shoulders. Miss Peregrine said that the human form of shapeshifters are altered, that could be the cause.
Miss Peregrine! She must know, she could sense peculiars. Maybe that's why she was surprised to see Esmé. She didn't expect Fiona's friend to be peculiar. She didn't expect her nephew to be peculiar, let alone living in Florida.
"Esmé," she said, turning to face him. "What are you going to do now? Are you going to ask Miss Peregrine."
"Ask her what? That I'm her long lost nephew!" He raised his eyebrows. "I don't think that would go over too well."
Fiona shrugged. "Miss Peregrine is actually really nice. She wouldn't get mad. She would probably adopt you on the spot, probably."
Esmé thought about it. It would be awesome to not have to move from place to place. To not have his clothes smell like garbage bags, and to have long-term friends for once. If he talked to Miss Peregrine, maybe he'd be to have a permanent home. He'd be able to see Jake, and Mister Portman. But if she said no, would it be worth the risk? He sighed.
"I guess it couldn't hurt to at least try," he managed.
"That's the spirit!" crowed Fiona.
-xXx-
Esmé's stomach was rolling like the ocean and he was slightly regretting saying anything to Fiona when he approached Miss Peregrine in the garden.
She, too, seemed to be lost in thought, but she perked up when she saw him.
"Ah, Esmé! I hope you have been enjoying your visit with Fiona," she said.
"I have," he replied. He hesitated, not sure how to word his request.
Miss Peregrine's eyebrows knitted together at his pause.
"Is everything alright?" she asked.
"Yes!" He blurted. "I was just wondering if I could talk to you. In private. It's just for a moment."
Miss Peregrine eyed him with surprise then concern, but nodded. "Would you like to talk inside? The drawing room should be empty."
"Yes please."
Esmé followed meekly behind Miss Peregrine as she led the way inside. Across the backyard Fiona caught his eye and mouthed, "Good luck!" Esmé's anxiety lessened a bit, and he returned her smile.
Luckily, the living room was empty and Miss Peregrine closed the doors behind them. Esmé perched on the couch and Miss Peregrine decided to settle in an armchair by the windows.
"Now, Esmé. What is it that you wanted to talk to me about?"
Esmé sighed and gathered his courage. He knew full well that what he was about to say sounded insane despite the evidence, but he had to try.
"Well I was thinking," he began, "About how odd it is that we're so similar. Fiona also mentioned that we also share many... inherited traits." Maybe a bit too blunt. Miss Peregrine looked surprised. Then, she let out a breath, and her gaze softened.
"I knew this would come up. There's no way around it," she said quietly. Esmé heart leapt into his mouth.
"So I'm right? Your my aunt?" He asked.
Miss Peregrine head shot up, clearly confused. Esmé stuttered to explain himself, feeling like he had said something wrong.
"Fiona mentioned that you had... erm brothers so I assumed that you were..." he tried to save himself, but Miss Peregrine was shaking her head.
"No, Esmé. Neither of my brothers are your father," she stuttered. "I'm... I'm your mother."
Esme was dumbfounded. He sat rooted to the spot completely numb at the reveal.
"I won't pretend I deserve your forgiveness," she said, not looking at him. Esmé stood from his seat and paced the room, running his hand over his face. She continued, "I don't deserve it, but I hope you know that I never stopped caring. I've worried about you every day, but I did what I had to." She looked up pleadingly into his eyes. "I hope you can understand that."
He stopped and swallowed thickly. He wiped his palms on his jeans, trying to suppress the emotions welling up in his chest. Then he asked the question closest to his mind.
"Why did you give me up?" he whispered. "Why did you send me to America?"
Miss Peregrine badly wanted to reach out at her son, to comfort him, but she was afraid he wouldn't accept it. Tears were forming at her eyes, no matter how hard she tried to stay strong.
"My brothers... weren't kind people. They hurt me. And I didn't want them to hurt you too. So I sent you away, even if it broke my heart," she explained simply. She didn't want to reveal his peculiarity on top of confessing that she was his mother.
Esmé breathed deeply. Trying to dispel his rising emotions. His fists clenched and dug into his eyes, stopping hot tears from forming. His heart ached and felt a sudden urge to pace again. Why was he crying? He was perfectly fine a few minutes ago.
Mis Peregrine stood and hesitantly held out her arms. She didn't expect him to accept her comfort, but after a few moments Esmé slowly reached out to hug her. Miss Peregrine tucked him under her chin and held him close as his shoulders shook.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered to him, "But I promise I won't disappear again."
They stood like that for long time. But the moment couldn't last forever and, eventually, Esmé reluctantly pulled away. Now that he looked at her, he could see a quite a few differences between them. Miss Peregrine's hands moved quick and sharp as she adjusted her shirt while Esmé's fingers twitched nervously. His eyes were tired and softened, but Miss Peregrine's eyes were piercing and held deep emotion.
"They don't know, do they? Your kids," he muttered.
"No," answered Miss Peregrine. "My other children don't know your my son. Though I doubt it will take long for them to notice, like you and Fiona."
Esmé's heart grew lighter when she called him her son. It was weird to be referred to as someone's son, but for now it washed away his insecurities.
"What do I call you now?" He asked.
"You can call me whatever you wish. I have no right to decide what I am to you."
Esmé thought for a moment. "It doesn't feel right to call you 'mom'. Not yet at least. I'll just stick to Miss Peregrine for now."
She smiled. "Alright then."
