Love is a Language

Epilogue

A series of months after the fire, two counties away and in the first city closest to the county line, Georgetown Foster Care had finally found a home for their foreign charge. The boy had been given to them after the terrible fire at Miss Trelawny's. Apparently, the police had found him wandering in the streets a day after the place had burned down. His clothes were torn and ragged, and his back had been a mess of infected cuts and a massive burn that stretched from his shoulders to his hips. After he was checked into Intensive Care, he told the doctors of his escape from the house and how he'd fallen asleep because his back hurt too much.

By this time, the other children had been shipped off to other orphanages and foster care homes, so it was only fitting that Pierre be sent somewhere where he could be looked after as well. Unlike at Miss Trelawny's though, the children at Georgetown weren't as welcoming or open to the foreign boy. They isolated him at first, but when they found out through a 'get to know you' activity that he liked a boy named Henry the same way that boys liked girls on TV, they targeted him. So he refused to speak to any of them at all. There were a few kids that were nice to him sometimes, but for the most part he was very much alone and disliked.

The couples that came by the foster care center fell in love with Pierre's darling black curls and his big blue eyes, but when they discovered he spoke French they decided it would be too much work to teach him English and moved on. Pierre felt rather irritated that they didn't think he'd be worth their time, especially when he knew that he could speak English at any time he liked. He decided that he didn't like adults in the foster care center. Whether they worked there or whether they visited, it made no difference. I'm fine by myself, he thought when another couple waved him away. Really. I'm fine.

A few months into his stay at the foster care center, Pierre had been minding his own business in an empty playroom, humming the little song Henry had sung to him when he was sick. Suddenly, he realized that he was no longer alone. His humming trailed away and he raised his eyes from the paper he was drawing on to see who had entered his private domain. Standing in the doorway was a woman with a kind smile and a mass of curly brown hair that fell into her eyes. Her smile grew bigger when Pierre met her eyes, and she stepped further into the room. "Sorry to bother you," she told him gently, her accent warm and familiar, "but I heard you humming and wanted to see who was in here." She nodded at the paper in his hands. "Are you an artist? Or a writer?"

Pierre blinked at her for a moment, trying to place where he'd heard someone talk like her before. He shrugged one shoulder slowly and looked back down at his paper, clutching the stub of his green crayon tightly in his right hand. Seemingly undeterred by Pierre's silent dismissal, the woman came over to where he was coloring and peered over his shoulder at his drawing. "It's beautiful," she murmured, and Pierre realized that the compliment was genuine. "You are a good artist. It is an angel, no?" She cocked her head curiously as Pierre met her eyes again.

"Oui," Pierre replied, stubbornly refusing to communicate in English. "C'est mon ange, Henry." The woman's eyes widened in surprise at his foreign words, which made Pierre smile sadly. She would probably pat his shoulder and walk out of the room, leaving him alone again. But to his surprise, the woman's smile returned and she threw back her head and laughed merrily. Pierre's sad smile disappeared, and his expression twisted in confusion. As much as he liked the woman's laugh, he didn't understand what was so funny. Once the woman's laughter had subsided somewhat though, he quickly received an answer.

"Henry est un très bel ange," the woman told him, her eyes sparkling mischievously. At the sound of his mother tongue flowing so beautifully from a complete stranger's mouth, Pierre's eyes went as wide as dinner plates and his jaw dropped. The woman giggled, pressing the fingers of her left hand to her mouth in a half-hearted attempt to stifle them. Pierre saw a golden band on her ring finger glinting in the light streaming in from the window. "Pouvez-vous me en dire plus sur lui?" she asked him, pointing back at Pierre's drawing.

"U-um..." Pierre didn't know what to say at first. "E-eh bien...c'est mon Henry. Je l'appelle mon ange parce qu'il est beau et merveilleux comme un ange." The woman's smile didn't flicker at this revelation. As Pierre continued to talk about his beloved Henry, she sat down next to him and rested her chin on her hands, listening intently to him. She laughed in all the right places, and asked him all about their little adventures. She asked him about Miss Trelawny and Mister McCrae when he mentioned them, and he told her stories about all the things that had happened to him in the orphanage. He told her about his parents too, how they had gone out to see a play together and hadn't come home. He went to their funeral, where a man in black sang a song about love lasting through death. He told her everything.

And unlike all the other adults, she listened.

A little while later, Pierre had learned the woman's name-Jeanne-and why she was here. She was touring the center with her husband, Richard, for his business. He also learned that they already had a fourteen-year-old son, and his name was Cameron. Cameron was still in France, but he was staying with his grandparents. When Pierre mentioned that he didn't have any siblings, the woman got a funny look in her eyes and she hummed thoughtfully. Fast-forward a few hours, Pierre had met her husband and had started to bond with him as well. When one of the workers came to find them, the three were in a very serious discussion about the possibility of bringing Pierre into their home.

The adoption process would take months, during which Pierre had regular video calls with Richard and Jeanne. He was introduced to Cameron, who he liked instantly. Cameron was very shy at first, but after a few more video calls he and Pierre were chatting in rapid-fire French to each other as if they'd been doing it all their lives. Papers were filled out, interviews were conducted, counselors and child psychologists were brought in. Pierre was getting very tired of the whole thing, and had asked Richard (who he learned was a lawyer) why he couldn't just kidnap him and make it look like it was all legal.

Finally, at the end of a long and gruelling process, Pierre was finally able to leave Georgetown Foster Care with his new parents and big brother. He waited eagerly on the front steps with his collection of meager belongings for two hours before his new family arrived. Cameron was the first one out of the car, and the two boys hugged each other for the first time since they'd met. Pierre's belongings were put in the trunk of their car, and they drove off to the airport. Cameron was the one who summed up the situation best as they got farther and farther away from the airport. "Nous avons tous une nouvelle vie à l'amour!"

We all have a new life to love.

Pierre smiled softly, wondering if Henry was having as joyful a time with his new life too. He missed his angel very much, but he knew-somehow, he just knew-that he would see him again. He would look for him too, when he was old enough. He would go around the world a hundred times and go to every part of the world so he could find him again. His fingers strayed to the infinity bracelet on his wrist, and he smiled to himself. And then, he made a promise. A promise so big that he knew that it would be one he'd work to keep as long as he lived, and maybe for forever.

I will find you.

-The End-

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Translation Notes:

C'est mon ange, Henry. It is my angel, Henry.
Henry est un très bel ange. Henry is a very beautiful angel.
Pouvez-vous me en dire plus sur lui? Can you tell me more about him?
Eh bien...c'est mon Henry. Well...this is my Henry.
Je l'appelle mon ange parce qu'il est beau et merveilleux comme un ange. I call him my angel because he's beautiful and wonderful like an angel.
Nous avons tous une nouvelle vie à l'amour! We all have a new life to love!

Author's Notes: It is finished.