Chapter Text
The Archives of the Magnus Institute, London. 1998
“Have you lost your jacket, Michael?” Eric asked when the youngest of them entered the archives one morning, the iconic color block jacket was missing from its owner.
Michael gave an apologetic smile. “Something like that, yes. I think it might’ve gotten lost in the dry cleaner.”
“Why don’t you get a new one?” Sarah suggested. “That thing was pretty old anyway.”
Michael hummed in thought. “I have considered it, although I was very attached to my jacket. Well, maybe it has a new owner now? Maybe someone who needs it more than me!”
“Kinda odd to see you without it though…” Eric muttered while he sought inside a box, looking for a certain statement. “Hm, I could swear I just had it.”
“By the way, lads. I made this last week. Thoughts?” Emma suddenly said and showed a ragdoll in her hands. Michael took a double look at it, frowning.
The ragdoll was cute, but it looked like…
It was a girl; the hair was made of orange yarn with twin braids and brown, button eyes. The face showed a smile with freckles, three at each cheek. The clothes were neatly made; a blue denim overall skirt with a yellow shirt under and grey stockings with tiny rain boots.
“Whoa...it’s so detailed, Emma!” Eric exclaimed as he checked out the little dolls in his hands. “Maybe my little boy would like some new toys...how did you come up with it?”
“Oh, I just dreamed about a little girl who looked like this and I decided to use it as inspiration!” Emma grinned. “I’m really satisfied about how it turned out. I had another dream about a different kid, so I’m gonna make another one.”
“You like it, Michael?” Sarah asked their resident blonde, once she was done with fawning over the cute doll. “Pretty amazing, isn’t it?”
Michael held it in his hands, a soft expression on his young features. “...yes, I think I love it. It’s really funny, this doll looks exactly like a kid I met not too long ago.”
Unbeknownst to him, there was a flicker of vast interest in Emma’s dark eyes. Curiosity burned in her again, the desire to know. “Did you catch her name?”
Michael never looked at his co-worker, but at the little doll as he recalled the name. The name of a little girl he grew fond of, even if they knew each other for just a few hours.
“Jenny.”
