#copy-cat

Abe, as you often called your grandfather, was one of the only people you went out of your way to be kind to besides your patients. You’d be there whenever he needed you. You see, Abe was more of a father to you and your younger brother than your actual father was. He talked to both of you more frequently and more respectfully too. He told you stories no one else knew and you knew him better than anyone else in the family. That’s right. You knew about Peculiars, a particular home of them as well. And you did more than know about the children and the monsters. You hunted the monsters with your grandfather. You’d stopped when Abe did, for your brother, but you followed any you saw. Yes, saw. But you did more than see. If there were multiple, you could pit them against each other and the wights they traveled with. The two of you had no secrets. Abe was your best friend. 

You pulled in his driveway, checking your watch as you turned and removed your key from the ignition. You locked the car with a sigh, unlocking Abe’s door. That was odd. Abe was paranoid, but he was confident enough in himself to unlock it when he was awake. Ignoring the dread pooling in your stomach, you stepped in calling out for your grandfather. “Abe!” you shouted, looking around the living room. Someone who didn’t know Abe wouldn’t see what was wrong. The map on the far wall had most of Europe and a great deal of Asia and Africa torn off. More than that, the lights were off. Being past midday, the sun lit the home quite well, but there were no signs of life anywhere inside. The dread in your gut hardened into a knot. “Abe, you have a doctor’s appointment and a different chauffeur.” You grinned cheekily, despite the stone in your belly getting heavier. You had anxiety and Abe had dementia. He probably ripped the map when overcome with memories, and you worried over every little thing. “You’re going to be late.” You walked into the kitchen, starting the coffee pot. “And you know being late gives me anxiety,” you mumbled under your breath. You walked back into the living room, noting how you heard nothing inside the home. Your heart dropped at the implications. You stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up them. “Abraham Portman?” you called up scoldingly, nerve-wracked by the lack of response. You slowly made your way up the steps, your grip on the railing was weak and fragile as your dizzy brain. Your head swam with the truth, knowing exactly why your grandfather wasn’t up. You took slow steps down the upstairs hall. You weren’t sure you could make it, weren’t sure you could take it. 

There were moments for you, where you knew precisely what was going to happen next. Again, anxiety so it was rarely true, but it happened. Soon enough, you found Abe’s door and pushed it open with weak fingertips, certain you would find your grandfather’s cold corpse in the position he slept in. 

Sure enough, flat on his back, hand propped to hold a gun, Abe was paler than usual and his cheeks chilled the backs of your fingers. Your shaky breath sounded like a whimper to you. However, you collected yourself as you pulled your cell from your pocket. The emergency call was the path of least resistance. 

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” 

You blinked. Shit. It wasn’t an emergency anymore. “My grandfather. He’s dead. I’m sorry. It’s... not an emergency.” You shook your head. “...anymore.”

The woman on the other side wasn’t upset. She talked you through your shock. She called a funeral home and soon had to hang up for other calls. You were alone with your thoughts and the corpse for half an hour. You didn’t remember a single thought you’d had all day and likely never would. 

Jake. Oh, God, Jake. How could you tell him? How could you tell anyone? You couldn't just wait for them to ask and say “oh, well, you see he’s dead.” He had two kids. You had two families to inform and someone had to tell the Ymbrynes. Did the diviners already know?

Alone in your grandfather’s house, you looked down at your phone. 

*

You weren’t crazy. But you didn’t feel it vehemently enough to say so. You didn’t feel like saying much at all these days and it was worrying your parents. 

There wasn’t an autopsy, but you didn’t need one to discover the cause of death. His eyes were missing, torn from his head as he slept. 

You heard your parents mentioning therapy so you had to speak soon. The real world never was good at handling anything unusual. But they weren’t thinking about putting just you in therapy. They wanted Jake to go too. He wasn’t handling Abe’s passing any better than you were. He was having nightmares about the very monsters you hunted. If he had the same gift as Abe, there was a Hollow around. You had to get both of you clear, like dragging a string across the floor to catch a cat. 

So... the next morning  at breakfast, you finally used your tongue again. “I had an idea.” 

No one was talking, but the family froze when you said something, anything. “What’s that?” your mother asked, not looking away from her paper. 

“I heard your plan to send Jake and I to therapy because we...” you smiled with your eyes shut, “...couldn’t let go of Abe.” The whole idea was preposterous. “So, I thought I could take Jake to the Home he used to live in. It’s a trip out of the country so it’s educational or something, you guys could have a two-week vacation from us. …You don’t grieve by ignoring it, or medicating it away. You have to dive in... and feel it. The good and the bad.” 

Jacob looked at you sideways. “Are they even still alive?” he asked. 

You paused. You didn’t know. You shrugged. “No clue. Should be. In any case, you can see where grandpa grew up. 

Both of you looked at your parents in unison. 

*

It was a fun plane-ride. You sat in 1st class for the privacy and, even then, you had to remind Jacob to shut up. Of course, you understood why he was freaking, but too much excitement on a plane of borderline illegal. Thankfully, he understood and the rest of his questions were quiet. Said quiet went out the window in the rental car. He was freaking very excitedly and you laughed so hard it was a hazard on the road. 

The ferry ride had Jacob grinning out at the water so you both leaned against the railing. He was so plainly ecstatic, you were almost certain this plan would work. Jake was very plainly let down by the Priest Hole, something you sympathized with. But they had nice, warm drinks for your walk across the island. Jake wanted to go straight to the loop, but you insisted his mind had been through enough. 

Besides, the island itself was large enough to keep the pair of you entertained for days. And you only had to stall for one. You had been in the real world so long, you weren’t sure how to act in a loop. In truth, your anxiety also played a role in the stalling attempt. The beach had swarming birds that Jacob ran into, like a child. You watched him from afar, smiling. Yes, this could work. A singing whistle made you look up and you saw a peregrine falcon dive from high in the sky, leveling out beside where you jolted away fright. Your hand rested on your heart and the bird waited for you to become calm then moved very slowly to perch on your shoulder. You stared at the blue bird, knowing it was the Headmistress, with a level look. “You know, for someone so involved with time, you are very impatient.” 

The bird squawked, as if in disagreement. 

“Don’t talk back, you know it’s true.” 

Her beak closed around your earring and gave a firm pull towards the woods. 

You swatted her gently. “He’s been through a lot this month. Let me spread it out.” She not so gently bit the tip of your earlobe. “Ooh!” you yelped in shock, and a little bit of pain. “See?” You waved your arm widely. The Ymbryne took to the sky, looking down disapprovingly. “Impatient,” you scolded. “Go bug him,” you ordered, pointing at Jake who stood barefoot in the sand allowing the tide to bury his feet. The bird obeyed, a big flap launching her at the boy. 

Said teen shrieked your name at the bird on his head, careful talons sinking to his hair. 

You tossed your head back, unable to withhold your laughter. “It’s just the headmistress,” you admitted. 

Jacob perked up brighter than you’d seen since he was small. He didn’t seem to understand the bird’s position because he lifted his chin to look at her. Only, she tipped back with his head, wings spread and flapping to keep her vantage point. The dark-haired boy seemed to catch on and swiveled his head to look at you. “C’mon, sis, please! Can’t we go today?” he begged. 

You rolled your eyes and pulled out your vape pen. “No! It would appear I’m teaching you both a lesson in patience.” You hit your pen and the bird cocked. You flexed an eyebrow until you let out the vapor. The peregrine flew back over to you, gripping your hair as she had Jake’s and leaned over to watch you do so again. Only, you didn’t, not understanding. So, you threw your hands up again when you were pecked on the crown of your skull. “Ow,” you whined as the bluebird leapt before landing again on your head. “Bitch!” you complained, rubbing your scalp with your vape hand. Your hand was pecked in scolding before the mouthpiece of your pen was grabbed within her beak. You ducked your head and waved your arms. With a huff, you crossed them in front of your chest and hit your pen. You held it a moment before blowing the smoke at the Ymbryne, the bird diving through the ring you’d made. “I hope your children don’t behave as such,” you accused, making her freeze. “Yeah, I said it.” Then she landed back on your head, taking a strand of hair, then walked over to your shoulder, then down your arm. You raised it to accommodate her and she reached your wrist, pecking it softly. She looked up at you, cocking her head cutely. Her foot stayed on your watch and you couldn’t help but smile. “That’s a good question.” You frowned in concentration. “We’ll leave for the loop at 8 so you can expect us around quarter til.”

The bluebird walked up your arm again. This time, you got tense and her neck was bent to run the topside of her beak along your skin. She got back to your shoulder and opened her beak around your jaw and gently nibbled. You tried to hold back a smile at the action. She took off, startling the crap out of you both. You rolled your eyes as she flew off, sarcastically introducing, “And that was Miss Peregrine.”

“She’s... uh-”

You looked over at him, eyebrows raised, impressed for him. “Apparently.”

*

She did it on purpose, you were sure. Jake was unbearably excited for hours and hours afterward. It was to the point where you threatened to not take him at all. 

You didn’t know why you insisted on waiting. It wouldn’t make the eventual goodbye any easier. With a sigh, you stood to dig through your suitcase. You found your bottle of melatonin, took one, then chucked it at your brother’s head. He took one and tossed it back. You put it back in the meticulous fold between your only nice dress (you didn’t know why you brought it either) and your long, vintage blouse which you planned to wear the next day. Your slacks were beneath your blouse and your nosy brother looked over. 

“Why do you have vinyl records?” he demanded curiously. 

You paused in your rearranging to look up at him. “What do you get the Home that has everything?” You gestured to your luggage. “Perhaps some music fresh to those who relive the same day.” 

Jacob nodded before grimacing at the implications. “Who’d you bring?” 

You shrugged. “Elvis, Led Zeppelin, Evanescence. Just different eras of music. Nothing vulgar, nothing discussing the future.” You zipped up the bag. “Maybe they’d appreciate some Cranberries. Zombie might tickle Enoch.” Your eyes traveled the air before you as you tucked your luggage back under your bed. “Might be too mature of a song though,” you shook your head as if to shake away the song and its temptations. You sighed, pulled back the covers, and watched Jake do the same. You both got in bed and fell asleep in the middle of your brother’s interrogation. He dropped off soon after. 

*

Your body insisted you wake up with the sun and nearly threw out those melatonin. Lucky for the drugs, they worked on your brother. You were already dressed in your retro clothes by the time you started to wake Jake. It took the better part of an hour trying to wake him. You were still applying make-up and getting a bag together. However once it hit 8, you pulled on your gloves, covered your antique clothes with a long coat, got your airhorn, taped it, tossed it in the room as you left, and then went to get a coffee. 5 minutes passed and you were pleasantly sipping your caffeine when the bed-raggled wet cat looking stick figure that was your tired, shocked brother came down the steps. You smiled and chugged your coffee then left the Priest Hole with a wicker picnic basket to disguise your gifts. 

Jake followed dutifully, if begrudgingly. He eventually got over the wake-up trauma and acknowledged you with more than a glare, with questions. You didn’t mind answering them until he asked why you left the Home. Emma was not a topic you were looking forward to explaining, nor were you enthused to inform her of Abe’s passing. Luckily, your brother was easily distracted. 

The walk to the collapsed cave was slow and cautious, and how was Jake still not out of questions? The other side was bright and warm, and you instinctively smiled. You looped arms with your brother, explaining the schedule and how delicately you both had to handle unpleasantness. 

All too soon, you were at the Home re-assembled and beautiful, and your stomach was in knots. You’d not seen these people in over a decade and the Headmistress wasn’t someone you remembered well. You scarcely remembered any of them, believing the visit to be a dream had Abe not reminded you it was real again and again. Your fist hovered over the wood when it fell away. 

Jake was very plainly impressed, while all you could think was, “gorgeous”. And this was the bird you’d called a bitch. You suddenly flushed, then cursed your reaction under your breath, then floundered under her suddenly stern gaze. You giggled shrilly, very embarrassed. 

Smiling just a bit too widely, the blue-clad, blue-haired Ymbryne held out her hand. “Miss Peregrine, delighted to meet you.” 

Jake gaped with a lax jaw. An involuntary grin pulled at your lips. You elbowed him gently, prompting him to finally shake her hand. You were tossed a light glare once more which caused a cowing your mother had never been able to cause. You diverted your gaze, finding decades-old grass fascinating. Jake was allowed past, then her hand extended to you. 

Did she think you’d forgotten the last time you met? You supposed it hadn’t been a formal introduction. You took the hand with your own leather gloved one and were caught by surprise when she pulled hard. You stumbled up the steps; she caught you in her arms. You were wrapped by her so securely, you didn’t dare try to pull away. Not that you were capable of even wanting to. She pushed her face into your scarf, careful to avoid any skin-to-skin contact. “I’m glad you’re alright,” she mumbled softly, knowing you would hear at the minimal distance you had. 

You met your startled brother’s confused gaze before answering. “Likewise.” You brought your own arms up around her as well. After a moment, you were drowning in earthy tobacco and petrichor. It made your head swim and you buried your face in her shirt. You gulped down the scent as if you’d been underwater for years. 

Her arms around you shook with tremendous emotion and she whispered, “I’m so sorry for your loss.” 

Your lip trembled as you remembered walking down the hall to his room, knowing what you’d find. “Don’t discuss unpleasant matters,” you ordered softly before sinking your teeth into your wobbly lip. You turned your face away from her bare neck and face to keep your hair between the two of you. 

“Yes, ma’am,” she whispered in response, bringing her arms tighter around you. 

Jacob cleared his throat from behind Alma awkwardly. 

*

Jacob’s introductions were constantly interrupted by the children reuniting with you. It was no matter, though, because you brought the focus back to him easily. They were just as eager for a new friend as they were to reunite with an old one. Your brother got to know your grandfather’s childhood friends, as you had once, even better when you were pulled away by Miss Peregrine. You weren’t technically “pulled away” as Alma refused to release you, the entire time you were there. And, strangely, she insisted you call her Alma. You were an adult, after all. 

A part of you was relieved because this whole new world meant you didn’t need to recall the old one so much better.

That short time you’d spent in the Home as a child was little help. Schedules and rules and plans were lost on you and you'd never felt so overwhelmed in your life. You wished your vape worked in the loop. You and Alma settled in the kitchen to begin lunch, dinner according to Alma. 

“It’s lunch,” you corrected over-confidently. The glare Alma sent you had you giggling and ducking your head. You shied to the side. She laughed as well and the lingering smile was the most pleasant visual you’d ever seen. You turned away to hide your fond smile yet disguised it as looking around. 

So distracted by your need to hide your feelings, you didn’t notice the Ymbryne come up behind you. “You should take your coat off.” Her warm breath blew against your hair and you startled, jumping. The weight on your shoulders told you she wasn’t really requesting your outerwear. 

You turned to face her, an abashed smile donning your face. “I’m not staying long.” 

Alma frowned, one hand leaving your collar to take your elbow. “You shouldn’t be alone. And Jacob will need a guide back to the Priest Hole.” 

You sighed, stepping from her grasp. “It’s just me. He may stay as long as he likes.” Your finger popped up and you spun, seeking out the picnic basket you’d set down. “Oh!” You lifted it and returned to the headmistress. You opened the lid with a sly grin. “A gift.” And out came the records and their sleeves. You handed them over to the suspicious Ymbryne. She looked them over then at the years. “I skimmed them for anything the children couldn’t hear and couldn’t find anything, you can go over them if you like, of course.” 

Alma smiled up at you with misty eyes. She blinked before pulling you in for another hug. You leapt to avoid any skin contact and let the woman maneuver any safe way she wanted. She held you until little footsteps called her to attention. She swiftly moved to hide the records back in the basket. She frowned at the contents and looked back at you. 

“Clothes, if Jake “decides”,” you air-quoted, “to stay for a while.” 

The Ymbryne’s frown deepened. “You are practically throwing your brother to us.” 

You frowned back. “No! That’s just in case. He has plenty of other clothes at the Priest Hole!” 

Re-placing the records in the basket, Alma stepped over to you, listening for the footsteps to leave. Jake was laughing after the kids, likely losing at tag. She took your leather-clad hands. “What is this?” she asked simply. 

And you knew what she meant. You sighed. “I just want- I told him. Abe. Over and over again I told him he needed to visit you all one more time, and he needed to take Jake-” 

“And you,” she interjected, missing your point. “Bring Jake and you.” 

You looked up at her with heavy eyes and you opened your mouth to explain, but you merely froze with your lips ajar. “Alma...” You heard her hum and saw her face lift at the use of her first name. “Abe.... He... He never-” You sighed, not sure how to tell her. “I have a job. At a mental hospital. I take care of psych patients. I deal with suicide risks,” you lowered your voice so the ‘s’ word wasn’t overheard, “and I’m trained how to deal with volatile patients. It’s... not what I want to do with the rest of my life, but it’s a step in the right direction!” You smiled. “I want to help these people, the common folk who can’t help themselves.” 

Alma’s eyes lowered, light dimming. “Oh, I understand.” And it seemed she did. She knew you couldn’t- wouldn’t stay. But she never released your hands. If anything, she ran her thumbs back and forth on the back of your gloved knuckles. “Too late,” she surmised your situation. 

“Or too early,” you offered another crux. You brought your shared hands together and apart with swinging elbows. “But it’s better that I knew.” You looked back up at her face. You wiped a tear from her cheek, trying to ignore the impending guilt. “I’m sorry we never figured it out with your Home, but I’m glad to have met you all.” 

The woman stepped back into you, one arm circling your waist beneath your coat. Her finger skimmed the line of your blouse tucked into your pants. “Stay for supper.” Her other hand sought the cloth of your scarf. She was looking for easy skin access without touching your face. Too bad, your clothes were designed to eliminate any accidents. 

You stepped back. “May as well. Seeing as Abe left all the big reveals to you.” You allowed your coat to casually slip from your shoulders, revealing the similarly sleeve-styled blouse. Your top was a white-cream color, though, and your dark pants matched your dark boots. Your light colored scarf remained, though, needing as many layers as you could manage. The air was just autumn enough for you to withstand the extra warmth. 

Alma’s shoulders drooped at the information that discussing the unpleasantness was her responsibility once again. 

You shut the basket before returning to her side. You automatically reached out a gloved hand before retracting it. “I can... help, of course.”

The woman spared you a look, then got trapped in your gaze. The moment stood still until she stepped toward you, equally compelled to reach out for you, your face. You instinctively matched her distance, in reverse, shying from the skin on skin contact she was reaching for. “Oh-” Alma started. 

“I’m sorry,” you were already interjecting. 

“No, I knew the consequences of your peculiarity and I tried anyway. I’m sorry.”

You were already shaking your head, attempting to dismiss any guilt the Ymbryne might’ve held. “I can explain Hollows to him. And Wights. I may get a few facts wrong, but I can explain the basics if you’d truly rather not. Because he has to know, and soon.” You tugged at the fingertips  of your gloves before pulling the wrists back down and securing the garment again. Miss P watched the action with cautious eyes. She reached out again, this time taking your hand. She pulled you through the home until Fiona caught your hand, pulling you to run from you brother and Miss P. She even shouted the invitation for all the kids to play. Alma watched you get roped into the children’s antics with a smug grin. 

You frowned over your shoulder, but the Headmistress wasn’t there. That made sense. You were outside now. You looked at the twin braided girl and knew you didn’t have the heart to repeat your intentions of cutting the visit short. The two of you hid together, you getting clarification in hushed voices. You hid your grin as you extracted rare seeds from your pocket of your pants. “Don’t go showin’ off cuz I didn’t bring a gift for everyone.”

Fiona beamed up at you, pocketing the seeds moments before you were discovered by your grinning emo brother. You all returned inside together at Alma’s call. 

“Met Enoch,” Jake announced with an appropriate grimace. 

You laughed and Fiona had a grimace of her own. “Enoch gets jealous and he’ll try to frighten you away. Jake, please don’t run away. Most of us are real good.”

You placed your hand on her head. “He knows,” you assured the girl with a smile. 

Fiona smiled worriedly then her gaze flicked to you. “Are you stayin’?”

You frowned sympathetically. “I’m sorry, baby, no. I have to make a report for work.” The report was just an expected date of return, but you couldn’t- just couldn’t give the boy a deadline for an impossible decision like this. You used every annual and holiday time you had raked up, which was only another two weeks. 

But two weeks was a long time and you weren’t going to spend it on an imaginary mission. You could follow the mission once Jacob had a routine. You started your hunt in the thick of Cairnholm bog. The woods were easy enough to clear so you moved outward. Wales was a big country, but Alma had her domain covered. You had to take responsibility for the rest. The beach closest to the island had Hollow tracks all around the waves. You were sure the rest would be taken by high tide. You stared at the foggy blob miles out. They hadn’t been on the island. You raced back, staring like a creeper at all the unfamiliar people, so all the people. 

A familiar chirp caught your attention, but you refused to give away your connection if the Wight was around. You saw a hoity toity rich bullshitter look up at her briefly and had to resist the urge to kill him. She landed on the railing of the boat, pacing back and forth anxiously. Eventually, she gave up, not receiving an answer and not going to risk transforming. You watched her fly away with a breaking heart. Adulthood sucked, peculiar or not. 

Jake was angry that evening. He scarfed down your tacos while rambling about the century-old peculiars keeping secrets. 

“Now, I know Alma wouldn’t let you starve, nosey or not,” you laughed out. 

Jake finally seemed to notice how much he’d eaten. “Sorry, but I didn’t stay for supper. I was too mad. I just don’t know what they’re not  saying.”

You sighed, picked at your necklace. “Yes, you do. You saw it. And everyone tried to convince you you didn’t.” It seemed Alma hadn’t seen fit to tell him yet. But he had a right to know, especially now that he was asking. So, you had to explain. “Have a seat.”

*

Jacob didn’t go to the loop the next day, leading you to fear you’d ruined his relationship with the Peculiars. But he wanted retribution for Abe just as you did. Upon the conclusion that they were on the island, you led the boy through the bog again, showing him how to tell where the mud was shallow enough to step on. You were focused, living the life Abe taught you, and hardly had the presence of mind to make sure he kept up. 

He must’ve because he was there at every house you came to. Most were uninhabited, but a few - three - were on the dangerous side of the island. They were old, but sturdy. The owner of the first home ran you off; then the second one made you pause. Jake had never been around Hollows before so he couldn’t tell, but you felt the beast. You wondered if his master was there too. You had to know. You kept a hand behind you, holding tight to your brother. The basement was the only room you couldn’t clear from the entrance. Of course that’s where the monsters would be. You stepped down slowly, hands loose enough that Jacob could run or just stay upstairs without you. Of course, that would be too easy. He stayed one step above you.

You saw the Hollows before he did, but there was no Wight to aid in his survival. Your roots slowly turned a bright orange, eyes slowly churning a beautiful green. You retracted your hands from his, stepping further down. 

The first monster to come out of the shadows earned a high scream from Jake, but he stayed. The monsters wicked tongue’s lashed out at you and him, but your hands slapped them away. The sponge-like eel-like tentacles appeared as charcoal where your hands had been when they retreated. The beast’s screams were worse than Jacob's. As a wounded animal would, the Hollow reacted to get them away and to escape itself. Its two arms and the rest of its uninjured tongues flung out and pushed you both away. You both slammed into the walls behind you. 

Jake hit the doorframe, his legs swinging out first. He was slow to get back up but he started at the sight of the wall above you on fire and the flames were spreading. But you were limp on the floor, the orange of your hair slowly staining deep red. He got up long enough to run in your direction, dropping to slide under the Hollow’s still swinging appendages. He touched one of your hands with his and immediately regretted it. He pulled back with a hiss, checking his reddened palm. The seeing boy turned to see the massive lanky creature ducking to turn around. The boy felt the exact terror he had the night his grandpa died. He took your clothed shoulders and shook and shook you. He screamed your name right in your face and was about to run when you stirred. Jake understood what needed to happen like it was built into him. He rolled one way while you went the other. Everywhere you touched started a new fire. Soon, only the floor was free of flames, and it wasn’t even completely free, and the both of you were dripping sweat. “You can control these flames, right?” Jake asked. 

You squinted, looking around. The structure was already failing, crumbling, and you plucked a broken piece of chair from a pile of warm char. The roots of your hair slowly turned brown and moved down, the tips retracting, curling as they turned brunette too. The orange was overcome by the bottom of your head. Not that it mattered as you were now a brown-eyed brunette with chin-length curls. 

The Hollow charged and you easily redirected him off to the side. You shoved him back the second time, willfully ignoring the flailing tongues. The Hollow collapsed a pillar, immediately bringing the old house down. Burning ceiling debris, all falling for the stunned spectator. Saddling up beside your brother you held the ceiling support just off him. It felt like a thousand needles into your palms, then over the heel of your hand. You bit back a pained scream, feeling the flames lick up your fingertips. 

“No!” a furious voice screamed. You both looked to see the fancy birdspotter from town outside the only exit. 

Tears tripped down the sides of your face, from the pain in your hands and your only option. With one damaged hand, you released the roof. You could hold it with the other. You grabbed your brother’s jacket and shoved him toward the one you knew to be a Wight. There was no other answer and no other option. You seized your abandoned weapon and dove for the exit yourself. 

It took time for you to see with the different light, but when you looked up, you saw Barron. His hand was a gun, of which the barrel was pointed at Jacob. The Wight’s wicked teeth smirked smugly down at you. “It’s been a pleasure, Ms. Portman.” He slowly eased his foot down onto the hand holding the chair leg. You slowly cried out as your tiny hand bones were crushed against a hunk of wood. “Can’t kill me without a dominant hand,” Barron gloated. “A-and it’s not as if you have a Peculiarity to fight with. Well, none of your own.” He released your hand and used that same foot to kick your stomach hard enough to send you flying through a weak wall rolling down it to land on the cement guard on the front porch. “No, I believe we have a loop to attend to.” His gun turned into a metal claw, and he held his new weapon right against his throat. 

But Jake’s eyes were trained on you. Come on, you were his big sister. You had to get up. He gasped at your slightest movement. 

Barron faced you too, applying more pressure with his blade. He laughed when he saw you in your natural hair and eyes, crispy fingertips unbuttoning your shirt. “You’re not my type, my dear.” He turned to Jake and made him walk. “You’ll show me your loop or I’ll kill you and come back to ask your sister. How much helpful do you think she’ll be?” 

Not at all. Especially if he killed Jake. Refusing him would sign both of their death warrants. Agreeing would put his grandpa’s old and his new friends in danger. What did he do? What could he do? All of a sudden, the pressure shoving him forward stopped. He halted, wanting to turn back and find you; but the big black man on the ground, a wooden hunk sticking out each side of his neck kinda drew his attention. Did he-? 

“I’m ambidextrous,” came your disembodied voice. 

Once again disappointed, Jake looked at all sorts of empty air. “You too?”

He heard you sigh more than he saw you, of course. “Unfortunately, nakedness is mandatory. Or it’d be useless.” 

Eventually, you clothed yourself and uncloaked yourself. Perhaps it was because he hadn’t seen you for a few minutes or because your state had changed so severely while unseen, but you were in terrible shape. Your hair was a whole new mess and your clothes were bloody around the bottom of both, your shirt and pants. Your arms were covered in soot and bruises, and your hands were burned so badly the flayed skin peeled. And where were your shoes? Jake knew you’d had a pair on for the trek to the now-rubbled home, but your feet were now bare, bog seeping between your toes and soiling the bottoms. “You can finish the walk to the Home, stay however long you like. Tell Ms. Peregrine Barron is dead. And she doesn’t have to worry about anyone following us.” You started limping away, back to town in a way which shielded your hands and tried to protect your feet, but you were in pain, plain and simple. 

“How long… can I stay?” Jake called after you. He didn’t want to be rude or selfish, but so much of peculiardom was a mystery, he needed clarification. 

You knew this moment could decide so much. Jacob had to decide so much. You turned to look at him over your shoulder. “However. Long. You like,” you answered verbatim. You could tell he understood the gravity of the situation by how still and distant his gaze had become. “Pick a location for now; don’t stand in the rain,” you scolded. You both were soaked by now, so you went on to the Priest Hole once Jake made for the loop. 

*

Disinfectants only went so far. But you still used one - several - and, yes, you whined through the whole ordeal. Now wrapped better than any haunted mummy you’d ever seen on tv, you were taking a rest. Sat in a chair, hands taped with gauze and exposed to prevent irritation, you tried to breathe through the constant pain. It must’ve been 90 minutes after the Head Wight was killed; the intentional silence was broken by fluttering wings. You didn’t open your eyes, but still understood. “He’s not hurt, right?” You hadn’t been able to check. 

“A bit of shock, but relatively unharmed. Barron?”

You never opened your eyes, but knew an Ymbrynen’s instincts, retracting and hiding your hands with a pained groan and an answer: “Unrelatively dead. Wanna stuff ‘im?” you quipped. 

“Show me your hands,” Alma asserted, suddenly very stern. 

You finally opened your eyes and stunned to find the woman not only stern, but worried. With a sigh you surrendered. “Second degree, nothing major.” 

Alma was careful and gentle undoing all your strenuous work, and she was careful not to touch your skin. She was good at concealing her emotions, but you knew how it looked. You had one heel of one palm with a third degree burn, but you had your bandages and treatment, once Alma returned them. “Come back to the house. I have burn treatment-” She stood to urge you along. 

“So do I. And I already applied it.” You nodded to the gauze she’d removed. She quickly replaced them and stared at you. You both knew all she wanted to say. You understood each other’s feelings well, but you were a coward. “What do you think Jake will pick?”

Alma was put out by this question, but also understood the complications. “We’re a good home. He needs one. He’ll see that.”

You nodded, concealing your hands once more. Your eyes went back shut and you slept in that chair, hair a steady orange to help your peculiarity help your body heal. You fell asleep like that and, as much as Alma despised it, she got the message and flew back to her loop. 

The next morning, Jake told you he wanted to stay. Big surprise. You still had two more days so you used them in case he changed his mind, but he never left the Home after that. He actually tried to convince you to stay as well. Yeah, he’d fit in no problem. 

*

Peculiars had ways of being forgotten so they could disappear. Abe had dabbled in much of that business so really, all you had to do was get uncle H down to talk to your parents so Jake would be free. Conditional memory wipes were a bitch to keep up with, but you managed. You were used to handling those unstable. You worked in a psych hospital for goodness sake. It was rewarding and caretakery while also teaching you to go with the flow and how to handle high-stress and immediate forgiveness. And you had a whole staff to help. 

Maybe you were crazy to deal with the crazies so well. Where you worked usually was a large casual room connected by four doors each leading to a pod filled with 5 double rooms and one single. 

Today you were in a pod with a level zero so the door to the main area was shut and locked. You had an observation room, but part of the routine was vital sign checks and it was time for his second and final of the day. You rolled the machine into the pod, and with you until you came up behind the couch, where Dale, your level zero, sat on the couch, squinting at the tv screen and its corresponding commercial. “Hey, Dale,” you greeted politely. 

He looked up at you, though his expression changed none. “Mary, what is with you flipping tables and screaming? You were wild.” 

You paused, not sure how to respond. “Was I?” Play dumb. That was your headspace when dealing with Dale. It confused him too and usually irritated him, but the subject was changed, despite it doing so several times in between several statements. 

“You were. What happened?”

You looked around. “Well, you know what it’s like to feel a lot of emotions at the same time.” 

“That was the past. You just did it.”

You fiddled with the vital sign machine, unsure if you should get to the point. “Well, maybe you can show me how to control my emotions like you.”

Dale leaned forward. “What?” he asked in genuine confusion. 

“You could teach me to control when I feel a lot of emotions at the same time like you do.”

“You don’t do like me,” Dale warned. 

“Can I get your vitals?” you asked, focusing. 

Dale turned his head away. “Flirtation.” But he offered his left arm. 

“No, sir. I will stay as platonic as I can.”

Dale went on a delusional ramble about many definitions of platonic, each one wrong. 

So, you interjected. “Well, platonic means- To me, it means unromantic.”

“Unromantic?” Dale repeated. “We’re not romantic, not flirting, not together, not anything-”

You agreed to everything he said. “Yes, sir. Yes, sir.” You  pressed the button to inflate the cuff and grabbed the O2 monitor. He poked out his finger so you could attach it. You put a probe on the cover of the thermometer. 

“We’ve only been together once.”

You nodded, humming the affirmative. “Wait- Mhm? When was this? Was I there?” 

“Mary... Stop playing coy,” Dale managed around the thermometer. 

You nodded. You took all the equipment back off him and left before he made you an offer which would be illegal. You charted the vitals, opened the door to the nurse’s station, then slid the machine and the vitals clipboard out. 

You obviously had an odd relationship with Dale. He used to tell you he took care of you since birth. Now, he claimed you told everyone he raped you. You would never but he didn’t like when you argued with his delusions. None of the patients did. 

You loved your job, you did, but sometimes it was too much. No one got that more than Amina Steele, RN. 

She’d worked at the hospital you currently did, forwell, you were sure it was too long. Love the jobs, love the patients, and all. But it was a bit much. The overachieving floor nurse had her own office on-lodge. Mostly, she used it to stash candy and her dammit doll. You used it to distract her, unintentionally hiding out through shift report and purposefully when overwhelmed, by patients or staff, Amina didn’t discriminate. 

You appreciated Amina and the power of RN. She got down and dirty with you on the floor, occasionally prompting a candy-caused 45-minute break, but more frequently were you cleaning Dale up. Recently, he’d begun getting stuck in various uncomfortable positions. Unfortunately, a part of getting stuck was not unsticking. He wasn’t moving somewhere appropriate to use the bathroom because he wasn’t moving. So someone had to encourage him or physically help him to his room. Staff would clean him up, wipe him off, and change him unless he needed a shower. Luckily for you two, this time, he had a bowel movement… and it stuck. 

You helped the man undress and got him under the warm spray while Amina gathered some towels, hand towels, soap, exchangeable pajamas, a depends, wipes- Maybe you should have offered to switch positions. 

“Mary… you can’t be in here. I’m naked. That’s rape.”

You were too used to these comments and simply sidestepped sigh, “You’re not touching me and I’m not touching me. Plus, we’ll have a witness in a second.” He didn’t understand, but he wasn’t leaving a shower without help. He never did it in your entire short tenure.

Oh, and Amina brought a shower chair. Her dark hair and pretty highlights, the hair you’d learned to identify her with, was half up and half down. Both of your badges hung in the way of your work, as usual. Half the effort was getting the chair to where he could just sit, then locking all four wheels, then unlocking them without touching wet, naked Dale. Both of your hair also got in the way as well. You found out what the hole in the chair was for, for Amina squatted down and reached her washcloth holding hand up under him to clean where his BM was born. 

“Earn those big bucks, ‘Mina.” You got his legs clean and your legs wet. It was only after her 20th swipe that you turned to leave, holding back terrible gags at what she was producing. You felt bad for the poor man, but damn. Maybe you’d check on the rest of the pod- yeah, that’s it! You returned after a quick round and found Amina had moved on to washing the rest of him. You had that covered and unlocked the wheels, telling as much. You pretty much spun the chair and re-filled a cup again and again to rinse him. Amina got a clean, damp washcloth and rinsed where she had been cleaning. And you let her. 

He went to sleep after his little adventure, and you let him. 

Days like these came quite frequently. It was literally a rotation. Your team look turns. Your days in the pod were your favorites, but only if you had something to do. The hospital you worked at had 4 units. Two short term patient units and two long term units. Two female and two male. Your men were men. They were crazy and most were over forty, but they were still men basically basic. Their delusions were wild but complex. Women were usually crazy so mental illness actually made it more pronounced. You were glad to work with the men. Their biggest routine problem was incontinence or, ironically, needing the water pitcher refilled. Each unit had four pods. One and four had booths for staff if a patient’s privilege level was a 0 and could not be allowed among their peers. 

Your lodge currently had one such male. Dale Hando was a German, American born schizophrenic who called you Mary. You didn’t know a Mary besides Maryane, your mother. You tried to ask Dale who Mary was, but he just got irritated and told you to stop playing games. Because, of course, you should know who you are. Dale raised you, after all. You’d never been more glad for the required masks. 

It was quiet in the pod. Dale was back in bed after a bizarre outburst with which you had to talk him off the table. He’d come out and sit at the patient’s meal booth when he was good and ready. You entertained yourself until another staff member entered via the door to the dayroom. She had a clipboard in her hands, checking rooms as she neared the nurses station entrance. You recognized the highlighted names of every patient in the pod. 

“Hey, gurl,” you greeted. 

The other aid, a pretty girl a little older than you, simply nodded. You frowned in concern. She had been quiet all day and, while that happened to everyone sometimes, D’anne liked to talk it out on occasion. “You good?” she asked, though you felt that should’ve been your line. She was going to take your place during your lunch break, though, so she was your relief whenever you needed it. 

“No,” you answered. 

The woman approached the observation booth, expecting to take your seat while you ran wherever you needed to. 

You just rolled backwards in the booth until the backrest hit the computer’s platform. The door shut behind D’anne and you were in a closed space with the older BHA. “Talk my ear off. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She reached behind her for the door knob. 

“Okay, but you can always talk to me,” you offered, checking the time and filling out a quarter hourly assessment box. 

“I’m pregnant.” It wasn’t rushed like she had to tell somebody and it certainly wasn’t casual. 

You faced her once more, quite abruptly, face excited. “Is this... congratulations or...?” 

The lethargic mid-twenty year old nodded. 

You jumped to your feet and smiled wide. You hugged her fast, regardless of whether she was a hugger or not. “Congratulations!” You gasped and pulled back. “If you have a litter, can I have one?” 

D’anne rolled her eyes. “Goodbye!” she sassed walking out. 

“You know I love you in the Jesus way!” you retorted with the same phrase you used with your Elvis patient.

“Girl, you crazy!” 

“Girl, you scared me! I thought you were for real upset.”

D’anne stopped at the nurse’s station door. Her badge hung by the reader and the reader lit up green. The inside unlocked and she held it cracked open. “I’m just tired.” 

You scoffed. “Yeah, you’re growing a person.”

D’anne nodded. 

You laughed. “It’s not even while you’re growing a person. It’s the rest of your life.”

So, your friend left your domain.. possibly more stressed than she entered. “Don’t tell nobody,” she cast back. 

“I won’t.” 

Not that you had time to consider it when your pod phone rang. You turned to it, reading the very long number on top. It was longer than the hospital’s number, extension included. You were hesitant to pick it up, but since when did you shy from the unknown? You picked up the receiver. “B Lodge. Pod one.” 

“Heyy...”

You smiled insanely wide, instantly forgetting about your own century. “Jake! How-!” You turned back to the phone, writing down the number. “How did you-?”

“Horace had a dream.”

You paused, confused. “About my work phone number?” 

“About you! You just happen to be at work. We heard about the pregnant girl. Fiona and Bronwyn want to know about the daddy.”

You laughed, leaning back in the chair. “Uh, I think she has a boyfriend.” You heard the laughter in the background and smiled. “So, let me get this straight. You saw a conversation you’ve never had and called me to have it, with foreknowledge, while the vision is still being projected?”

Jake didn’t speak for some time, likely processing the timeline as you had. “Yes.”

A grin stretched your face and you tensed as you suppressed laughter. “Man, I love these people,” you laughed out, at least. 

Someone knocked on the window and you looked up. It was Dale. “One minute.” You put the receiver on the table. You slid to the door, opening it to communicate with Dale more clearly. “Yes, sir?”

Dale leaned up to the metal slot to speak into, rather than facing you. He spoke softly, so you mostly relied on the syllables. “Snack time is in twenty more minutes.”

He mumbled the exact same same thing, but he pointed to a bottle on the other side of the glass. 

You looked at it. “You want hand sanitizer?”

He mumbled a single sound. 

That was one of his usual requests, oddly fixated on hygiene, but he fixated on the wrong stuff. You went with it. “Sure thing!” You grabbed the bottle. He moved closer to the door to hold out his hand. Once he had a dollop, he rubbed his palms together, finger touching. You cringed, but accepted his mumbled thanks before he retreated to his room again. You stared after him sympathetically, blindly reaching for the hand piece of the phone. “Do you know it’s handled without me telling you?” you asked Jake. 

You could hear the smile in his voice. “Yes.” This time, there was no hesitation. 

You smirked and let out a low chuckle. “So, what’s new?” 

*

Nights were later than ever after you transferred from first shift to second. You now worked from the afternoon until nearly midnight. But you were more capable than most who wandered at night. Leaving out the back, you crossed the road to near your car faster. A low growl drew your attention. Your hair shortened and curled, turning brown as your eyes did too. You continued toward your car as if you detected nothing. 

Hollows weren’t intelligent or self-aware enough to notice the change in your appearance or to understand what it meant. Still, you were close enough to your car that it understood you were nearing an escape and a weapon. With a stupid warcry, the Hollow began its attack. 

You had your special eyesight to help you evade, but you needed a plan. If it got you in its tongues, you were done. Maybe not if you had fire-fingers, but that only worked in close range. But short of finding a house to collapse on it or throwing your car at the monster, super strength was also close range dependent. You desperately wished you’d adapted Fiona’s power before reaching your limit. 

Your grandfather had taken all over the world, to multiple Loops, and you had more gifts than from Miss Peregrine’s home. You dug through your memory for the powers Abe had had you take for fighting. You could heal fast - not helpful (yet, if you failed) - jump high - your hair shortened even more (staying only just in a pixie cut and staying brown, making the change faster) and your eyes stayed the same shade as Bronwyn’s - oh! You were quite dumb, you realized upon landing behind the Hollow. You had a few OP powers, but many were hard to control so you didn’t use them often. But the cement beneath your feet had to go. Your hair turned very dark, blacker than the night sky above you, and your eyes changed a piercing green. Your hair reached your waist as you lifted your foot. Stepping onto the grass island allowed in the parking lot, you held out your hands. 

The turning Hollow suddenly lost its balance as the unnatural ground trembled. It rose back to the tips of its legs just as your borrowed power was fully built up. The immediate area fell downwards, into nothing, making its own chasm. The Hollow was swallowed, just like every other object in the vicinity, including your car. Once the ground was done shaking, the chasm remained, the bottom lost in showed blackness. Even if it didn’t go too deep to see, the light post on this corner of the lot was also gone. You realized you had the cover of darkness to conceal your hair curling, shortening, and bleaching. Your eyes went blue and your clog-clad feet raised from the grass. It was hella hard to direct “lighter than air” but you managed by strategically dropping the held Peculiarity. You were home a little later than usual, but no one noticed because they were all asleep, another reason you went to second shift. You entered your bedroom in peace and shut the door before turning the light on. 

It was a stupid night that you decided you needed a break. But that was exactly the point. Stupid, little stuff should not have annoyed you to the same extent you’d be if you’d spent the whole week tied to B Lodge’s Elvis/flirt. But you were still an ornery, stubborn little woman. You still couldn’t take off for no reason. So you found a reason. Under what your mother believed to be the bottom of your baby box, was the stuff of your true youth. You had hundreds of photos, dozens of which you’d taken, and quite a few of the Home you remembered most fondly, though most briefly. But Miss Peregrine was also the only Ymbryne you’d met twice outside of rescuing one. But anyway, you kept digging until you found Abe’s records. Abe wasn’t born yet at the time of the Hollow Experiment, but it was understood as best it could be. Exactly 20 volunteers had gone missing. Several Wights were loose in the world and Hollows, but after Barron’s death, you had no doubt they were scattered. However, Abe had killed more than a few, and so had uncle H. Malthus had been Barron’s personal Hollow. Both were dead. Abe had killed Ms. Edwards and Mr. Clark, and 8 unknown Hollows. Uncle H had killed Mr. Archer, Mr. Gleeson, and Mr. White, and two Hollows, and tamed one. And in all of your years, you had killed four, two of which were already accounted for. The experiment was over. Your

The second you suggested the trip to Alma, she had all but made the plans. Reuniting was a delight and you were drowned in hugs, just what you needed. Alma approached you last, a faux-stern you believed. “After 70 years, we understand a long-term, come and go loved one does not work.” Your hope plummeted. “So, we insist you stay.”

Your tension broke with a sheepish smile. “Oh, I wish-”

“You can,” Alma interjected. Cutting people off, not polite, not Alma but necessary. “I know the only reason you haven’t yet is Abe. But he doesn’t get to decide for you. I suppose, if you really want to, you can leave, but you can stay. And if you want to caretake, help me care for our kids.” She put her bare hand on your cheek. The simple motion brought you some comfort, rarely indulging in skin-to-skin contact. The support of Alma Peregrine made you put your free hand on her. The gloved one.