Here's the thing.
She will always, to some extent, be a child, because sometimes, life hits the human psyche hard enough to mark it forever. The wounds fade and skin closes over them, but underneath that bruised blood still flows, a stagnant, sluggish river that has nothing to empty into, nothing but to run back on itself until it's choked off by its own disease.
She fell in love with Henry because he was the first person to treat her like a human being outside of Abe and Hellboy and the rest of their little carnival burlesque at the Bureau. And while she loves them back with all the ferocity of what burns inside her, there is a very cruel, callow part of her that thinks this means nothing, because they're freaks too. They accept her because they need their own acceptance. Symbiosis.
The thing is that Henry was so very very normal that when he said "I'm not afraid of you," it tore open whatever cover she'd managed up put up over those wounds. The way Liz loves Henry is the way an eleven year old might fall in love with the teacher or coach who saves those inner city kids by teaching them Shakespeare or ballroom dancing or whatever cliche is handy at the time. Because he rescued her. Deep down this eleven year old would die before she would admit Henry actually has flaws. The only time she gets angry with him is when he indicates he can't love himself the way she does, that he still experiences grief and regret for events that in her mind he had no way of preventing.
The thing is, Liz can be kind of a hypocrite.
The eleve year old in her still wants something to bleed for what happened to her family. And so where other 'parents' might put their maximical foot down and say 'no, you can't go,' she will watch John leave with every expectation that he is not coming back. Because that part of her that will always be as red and raw he is would go, too. Because she grew up in a world where being different took everything from her. If she had been born in that universe, her uniform would not have an X on it.
The thing is, Liz Sherman will always believe deep down that the things and people she loves will eventually be taken from her. And in the end, it's exactly what she deserves.
She fell in love with Henry because he was the first person to treat her like a human being outside of Abe and Hellboy and the rest of their little carnival burlesque at the Bureau. And while she loves them back with all the ferocity of what burns inside her, there is a very cruel, callow part of her that thinks this means nothing, because they're freaks too. They accept her because they need their own acceptance. Symbiosis.
The thing is that Henry was so very very normal that when he said "I'm not afraid of you," it tore open whatever cover she'd managed up put up over those wounds. The way Liz loves Henry is the way an eleven year old might fall in love with the teacher or coach who saves those inner city kids by teaching them Shakespeare or ballroom dancing or whatever cliche is handy at the time. Because he rescued her. Deep down this eleven year old would die before she would admit Henry actually has flaws. The only time she gets angry with him is when he indicates he can't love himself the way she does, that he still experiences grief and regret for events that in her mind he had no way of preventing.
The thing is, Liz can be kind of a hypocrite.
The eleve year old in her still wants something to bleed for what happened to her family. And so where other 'parents' might put their maximical foot down and say 'no, you can't go,' she will watch John leave with every expectation that he is not coming back. Because that part of her that will always be as red and raw he is would go, too. Because she grew up in a world where being different took everything from her. If she had been born in that universe, her uniform would not have an X on it.
The thing is, Liz Sherman will always believe deep down that the things and people she loves will eventually be taken from her. And in the end, it's exactly what she deserves.