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Helen introspective piece, as well as ... most everyone really.
Title: That Does Not Flinch
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Sanctuary
Characters/Pairings: Helen Magnus, mentions of everyone
Summary: She has gathered those who do not flinch
Wordcount: 771
Warnings/Notes: Um. Sort of harder take on Helen
Disclaimer: Not mine
Title: That Does Not Flinch
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Sanctuary
Characters/Pairings: Helen Magnus, mentions of everyone
Summary: She has gathered those who do not flinch
Wordcount: 771
Warnings/Notes: Um. Sort of harder take on Helen
Disclaimer: Not mine
That Does Not Flinch
She searches for the thing that doesn't flinch.
Helen Magnus has lived in a world of monsters all her life. From her first breath, her first tiny step inside her father's world, she has lived in a world of monsters. It took her longer, maybe, to realise everyone else did, too. Took her longer to recognise which were the monsters, and which only looked like them. Sometimes, she still doesn't always get that line right, or not in time. But she knows there is a line. And she knows what lies beyond it. She knows it, and has faced it, and has quested inside it, and has become it, and has overcome it. She has looked on that line, and has not flinched.
Helen Magnus lives in a world of monsters. And from the moment she realised that, the moment she looked on monsters and felt the stutter in her chest that wasn't fear, the moment she looked on monsters and felt the thing that doesn't flinch, she started looking for its echo. Started searching, for that which does not flinch.
And she found it. Oh, she found it. Found that echo of the thing inside her chest, found the mirror of that proud, fierce, curious thing. Found them, man and woman and monster, that would look on her world and smile, that would look on her world and stand.
She gathers them around her. Searching in them for that hidden thing, that even they may not know, may not recognise in themselves. She has gathered the strong to her, that they may protect those who are not. She has gathered the laughing darkness in Kate's eyes, that will not stand down before tooth or claw. She has gathered the remote curiosity in Will's heart, that does not care what he observes, only that he be allowed to understand it. She has gathered the strength inside Henry that he has learned not to fear, and the pride inside the Big Guy, that says, this is my home, come no further. She has gathered the soldier inside Declan, that says, this is our line, founder upon in. She has gathered them, gathered a network, a world, a Sanctuary. She has gathered together those who will not flinch.
But they are not the first she has gathered. And there are not the only ones she holds still.
Her Four, first. The Five, her men. So proud, each of them. So stubborn and arrogant and proud. They had looked on her world, with all its challenges, and challenged it in turn. With her by their side, at their head, they had looked on monsters and dared them step closer. They had looked on monsters, and become them. John, Nikola. Even James, in his way. Even Nigel, though not so far. All of them. And her as well. The pulse of that thing inside her, that did not flinch, because why should it? Why should it shy away from what echoed it? Why should it fear what it was itself?
Why should monsters fear monsters? And a monster is not a monster, save that it is used for ill. The line exists. But sometimes, sometimes, the line lies not between people, but within them. Sometimes, they carry the monster in their breast, and inside them, it does not flinch.
They stand with her now, even still. Centuries later, monsters in their turn. They stand with her yet, those that are left, with blood on their hands and in their eyes, and they do not flinch. The line has passed over them, and through them, and now they stand beyond it, stand as monsters, and look back at her. Look at she who has overmastered them, who has overcome that which does not flinch. They look at her, and smile.
Her men. Her Four, her Three, her Two. Monsters all. She does not flinch from them. Will never. They, with their bloodied hands and the love in their eyes, are the most terrible things she has ever seen, for the thing in her heart that knows she made them, that knows she will never abandon them, that knows they will always be hers. They are the most terrible things she has ever seen, and she will never love them more. For all that her heart breaks, for all that what is human of her shies away, there is a thing in her chest that does not, will never, flinch.
Helen Magnus lives in a world of monsters, standing over the line, holding it tight between her fists. Helen Magnus stands, and does not flinch.
And before her, it is the monsters who look away.
She searches for the thing that doesn't flinch.
Helen Magnus has lived in a world of monsters all her life. From her first breath, her first tiny step inside her father's world, she has lived in a world of monsters. It took her longer, maybe, to realise everyone else did, too. Took her longer to recognise which were the monsters, and which only looked like them. Sometimes, she still doesn't always get that line right, or not in time. But she knows there is a line. And she knows what lies beyond it. She knows it, and has faced it, and has quested inside it, and has become it, and has overcome it. She has looked on that line, and has not flinched.
Helen Magnus lives in a world of monsters. And from the moment she realised that, the moment she looked on monsters and felt the stutter in her chest that wasn't fear, the moment she looked on monsters and felt the thing that doesn't flinch, she started looking for its echo. Started searching, for that which does not flinch.
And she found it. Oh, she found it. Found that echo of the thing inside her chest, found the mirror of that proud, fierce, curious thing. Found them, man and woman and monster, that would look on her world and smile, that would look on her world and stand.
She gathers them around her. Searching in them for that hidden thing, that even they may not know, may not recognise in themselves. She has gathered the strong to her, that they may protect those who are not. She has gathered the laughing darkness in Kate's eyes, that will not stand down before tooth or claw. She has gathered the remote curiosity in Will's heart, that does not care what he observes, only that he be allowed to understand it. She has gathered the strength inside Henry that he has learned not to fear, and the pride inside the Big Guy, that says, this is my home, come no further. She has gathered the soldier inside Declan, that says, this is our line, founder upon in. She has gathered them, gathered a network, a world, a Sanctuary. She has gathered together those who will not flinch.
But they are not the first she has gathered. And there are not the only ones she holds still.
Her Four, first. The Five, her men. So proud, each of them. So stubborn and arrogant and proud. They had looked on her world, with all its challenges, and challenged it in turn. With her by their side, at their head, they had looked on monsters and dared them step closer. They had looked on monsters, and become them. John, Nikola. Even James, in his way. Even Nigel, though not so far. All of them. And her as well. The pulse of that thing inside her, that did not flinch, because why should it? Why should it shy away from what echoed it? Why should it fear what it was itself?
Why should monsters fear monsters? And a monster is not a monster, save that it is used for ill. The line exists. But sometimes, sometimes, the line lies not between people, but within them. Sometimes, they carry the monster in their breast, and inside them, it does not flinch.
They stand with her now, even still. Centuries later, monsters in their turn. They stand with her yet, those that are left, with blood on their hands and in their eyes, and they do not flinch. The line has passed over them, and through them, and now they stand beyond it, stand as monsters, and look back at her. Look at she who has overmastered them, who has overcome that which does not flinch. They look at her, and smile.
Her men. Her Four, her Three, her Two. Monsters all. She does not flinch from them. Will never. They, with their bloodied hands and the love in their eyes, are the most terrible things she has ever seen, for the thing in her heart that knows she made them, that knows she will never abandon them, that knows they will always be hers. They are the most terrible things she has ever seen, and she will never love them more. For all that her heart breaks, for all that what is human of her shies away, there is a thing in her chest that does not, will never, flinch.
Helen Magnus lives in a world of monsters, standing over the line, holding it tight between her fists. Helen Magnus stands, and does not flinch.
And before her, it is the monsters who look away.
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