When In Doubt, Go With Blue

Everything She Never Wanted

Alma's eyes bugged in fear and she used the chair to help her stand. "Are you certain she's not anywhere in the loop?" The island was a big place and they had 2 versions to check.

"Horace is."

Well, that was that. Alma forced her wobbly legs to lead her to the door closest to the loop entrance.

Horace stood outside the kitchen, expecting this reaction, and pulled at his lapels. "I'm sorry, Miss Peregrine. According to the dream I had the moment she stepped out of the loop, by the time you woke up, she's already left the island."

Alma let out a faint sigh and accepted another Ward was gone.

"They truly didn't mean it. No one-!"

The Headmistress patted his shoulder. "I know, Horace. I know." She continued out until she reached her room, confident her older, well oldest now, wards were capable of watching the younger while she took some time. Another ward lost. Now you were back in the lonely, cold world she'd dragged you in from. You knew the dangers, you knew your previous home - if it could be called that - wasn't acceptable to you anymore, you knew how to fight; what you didn't know was yourself. No powers, no support, no acceptance it was no surprise Alma dissolved into tears.

*

A ferry to a train to a plane. The you before meeting Miss Peregrine and the Home would consider this an adventure. Now, you call it relocating. Again. You'd thought last time would be the last time, but now you knew it would never end.

The location of the cheapest plane ticket had palm trees and a massive coast. Well, all coasts were massive, but you knew California's was the state with the longest which remained in within the state. A long way from your blood kin, it felt nice to be back in the states all the same.

You stole a car and some clothes, and se t off for the road. No destination was now your goal. You stopped for a night to use your new skills to pick pockets. You were thankful for Millard's lessons, but mourned the Home every time you stole anything.

You wondered how Alma was. No, you didn't have that right. However she was, it was your fault.

It took nearly a week on the road before your body caught up. It hurt for hours afterward, but you figured it was what you deserved. Your knees were taking an awful long time to settle, and you had a perpetual migraine which made driving extremely un-fun. But this was the first time in your life you had complete autonomy. You got to listen to your music and steal your style of clothes, none that your mother made you wear and none of that uncomfortable vintage crap. You were always armed and no one ever said your name. It was... great. But after another week of adjusting to an adult body, which wasn't all that different from your teenaged body, you found a real purpose. You were corned by 3 wights and thank God you remembered your- well, not training, but you learned how to fight young.

3 dead wights and a night spent in an overly-well-lit motel room left you paranoid and with little sleep. You should have kept driving, next town- Hell, to the next state. But you needed to clean your wounds, eat, and sleep. You didn't actually sleep, but the other 2 were properly handled. And then you were driving again. The hum of the engine was drowned out by the open window and your off-key singing. You were sliding back and forth on the road, betting out the lines of you songs on your favorite radio station. You rocked your head and taped the steering wheel to the song's beat. Another pair of headlights appeared, coming in your direction and you moved back into your lane, giggling hysterically.

*

The evening you left, no one was their usual, energetic self. Alma was the injured one, but she tried to rally the others. They'd existed long before you were even born and they would manage now you were gone. Probably forever. Alma ignored the pain as always and pushed through. She urged the children to do the same.

Supper was too quiet. Hugh didn't have to be told or argue about putting his beekeeper net on. Millard was already dressed; Enoch had the appetite of his dolls. Claire's backmouth ate slow, a first and a hitch in the schedule.

It was all Alma could do to excite them for movie time. Abe's phone call had only disheartened them more. It was a reminder that all their friends were either there and had been for decades, besides Jake, or had left. Or died, but no one dared to make that connection.

Horace wasn't even enthused to share his gift. The monocle projected a nice dream first. But every loop-inhabitant recognized the sign of a prophecy. The scene shifted, projection turning the murky blue of sunrise in the loop. Your face made them all excited, hoping for a clue or the miracle that was your return. But no. You were on a train, no doubt getting as far from Cairnholm as possible. Tears streaked your face, dripping from your chin.

Claire started crying and Enoch reached out to pat her shoulder, accepting when the blonde buried herself in her chest and lap.

Alma felt compelled to comfort the girl, but got distracted by you knocking your head against the wall of your cart. More tears flowed and you kept knocking your head against a fucking train. Alma rested her hand on Horace's shoulder, prompting the boy to remove his monocle. The projection ended on that low note and none of the children were in a pleasant mood. Emma and Enoch appeared on the verge of tears. Alma sent them all to bed early. She would reset the loop on her own. Horace waited until the room was empty to replace the glass. Alma opened her mouth to stop him until she heard the ticket-master shout an English city so, so close to an airport. Her heart cracked and she so wished the projection would end, that your departure was a nightmare of her own. The last image of the "movie" was you stepping off the train and to the exit of the station. What you didn't see as the tall, familiar shadow of a Hollow.