#a young girl plucking a white swan | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lassluna · 4 years ago

Text

CS January Joy Day 31: A Happy Ending (well, that depends on where you stop the story)

Emma Swan was a criminal. A thief. A forger sentenced to four years for bond forgery. Killian Jones was the agent sent to catch her. And catch her he did, but after an escape attempt, an exploded PO Box and a deal an unusual partnership is formed, one that will give them both all that they ever wanted or lead to mutual destruction. White Collar AU

Ao3 FFN

AN:I am very thankful to @csjanuaryjoy for finally getting me to write this. It's been a wild year and hopefully this next one will bring a bit more joy. Thank you @teamhook and @ultraluckycatnd for beta reading for me.

“How did it start?”

It started like most stories if she’s being honest, which she rarely is.

It started with a stolen car, stolen watches, so much stealing, so much theft, so many lies that she had forgotten where Emma, the lost orphan girl, ended and where ‘The Swan’, grifter, forger, liar, thief began. Her reputation grew, as did her steady collection of wealth.

It started with a boy and a girl, lost and alone and unwanted in the world and turned into some wannabe Bonnie and Clyde duo who just wanted to be seen, to be heard, and to take back what the world took for them.

They lied, cheated, and stole for the sake of it. And they were good at it. There’s something about being alone and unwanted that just made it easier to pretend. Sometimes a lawyer, other times a high profile gambler rubbing elbows with mobsters and politicians alike. One time she pretended to be Leila Lucas, princess of a far off land in order to get close to some crown jewels. They pretended that these lives, these rich, luxurious important lives were theirs. They pretended that they deserved these things because they could take them.

And take them they did. The car, the watches, the bonds, the jewels, the paintings, they took them all.

Emma loved the paintings, the art, the beauty. She loved looking at things that gave people feelings. It made her feel a little less alone.

Neal loved the money, the thrill, the ways the world bent to their will, the way it rushed through their veins.

It started with young love. It started good, and they were happy.

“How did it end?”

It ended like most stories, or at least it seemed like that to him.

He was a simple FBI agent, chasing her, tracking her, trying to prove to the world the crimes she commited. Part of him always thought that was what she’d wanted. She wanted her crimes to be seen, noticed. She wanted to be known, not disappear into the shadows.

He understood that, he was trying to prove himself too. Killian was a good FBI agent with a shitty childhood and an even worse family history. But he wanted to be great. He wanted to escape the shadows and prove that he was better than those who came before.

He just wanted to do his job. He wanted to catch her. He wanted to catch 'The Swan'. He spent years hunting her. He was supposed to be just one more FBI agent who tried to catch a break and then went on to the easier, flasher cases.

But not Killian. He had no intention of giving up. Because The Swan was special. She was as elusive as they come, never staying in one place too long, always running, running, running.

There were two of them he knew, but it was always her. She was the one planning things out, making the big moves, making the forgeries, being seen. Never him. He knew that once they got her, his crime spree would end. She was the one that they had proof for. She was the brains and the brawns behind their every operation.

But the problem was that as the years went by, as he got closer to catching her, he learned a lot about Swan. He learned how she likes her hot chocolate: with cinnamon. He learned she also had a shitty childhood; an orphan at birth, bounced around to one foster home after another. He learned she hated violence. Her jobs were smart and with little to no chance of anyone ever getting hurt.

And she got to know him too, if the gifts and the birthday cards proved anything. ‘Know thy enemy’ as they say. But no one ever said to send your enemy flirty postcards, uber eat deliveries of your favorite take out places on stake outs, or gifts to your younger sister on her birthday.

He doesn’t remember when it happened, but they had an appreciation for each other.

Smart, his little sister said once when he was home for a few days before he had to go back out to chase her. You always liked smart.

It ended like most stories, a betrayal and a trap. He knew it was a trap and let her fall right into it. Neal Cassidy, her partner in crime traded away ‘The Swan’ like she was nothing. Honor among thieves seemed to have skipped him in that lesson.

The look on her face when she was caught, trapped, was painful to him. Her eyes were green fury as the truth became obvious to her. Her eyes looked at Neal who was leaving out the back, and then on him.

"It's about time we met properly," he told her as the uniform officer arrested her. “Agent Jones of the New York FBI White Collar division.” She didn't respond to him. He never expected her to.

It ended with a defeated bird who flew too close to the sun.

“Then what happened?”

Then began nearly four years later with Killian Jones, being pulled away from his current case for a jailbreak. ‘The Swan’ had escaped 3 weeks short of her 4 year sentence. It had been years since he even heard her name. Her capture had been his shining moment, it had made his career.

Her escape had been flawless. Her long hair, chopped off, a guard uniform ordered with the warden’s own credit card.

She was in the wind with no hope of being found.

“Road blocks, wanted posters, people posted at the train stations and airports,” the marshals told him, but Killian knew her, knew Emma.

They wouldn’t catch her with the traditional methods.

She didn’t escape for the traditional reasons.

She had been a model prisoner, kept her head down and out of trouble, so why leave now? It had taken months of planning. So he went back, when did she start planning her escape? When did things change?

She got visits from him, from Neal. The vile excuse of a man who got her caught in the first place. He knew better than to judge someone for going back to familiar patterns. Especially trapped in prison.

But his visits stopped nearly a month ago. The man went from visiting weekly with a smile and a magazine to nothing.

So Killian looked at that tape, the final visit from the conman who got away with it. He wasn't surprised by what he saw. His last visit was final. He had all the body language of it. A pained smile, looking shifty and nervous. Emma had stood, slamming her fist on the glass; he'd seen tears on her cheeks when the guards dragged her back, back towards her cell. She’d screamed and pleaded.

But Neal left anyway.

“Ariel,” he said to the younger agent. She was a bright new recruit, his favorite of the probies. “Get me anything you have on Neal Cassidy and all his known aliases.” Ariel was very good at finding exactly what he needed in moments like this. A cold blooded shark in a sea of misinformation.

They find her in an empty apartment, cradling a dreamcatcher in her hand. She looks the same as the last time he’d seen her. Heartbroken. They were in Neal's apartment. The one he rented a few weeks after her trial.

(Killian remembered seeing him there, full of sorries and excuses. Word on the street was that no one wanted to work with him after that. Honor among thieves was apparently much more important than the man thought.)

“How many are here?” she asks as he enters. Her back towards a pillar in the middle of the room.

“Between the FBI, the Marshals, NYPD...everyone,” he chuckled. He’d told them they hadn’t needed to corner off the streets like this. Emma had never been violent. “They’re going to give you another four years for this, you know that right?”

Emma laughed a humorless laugh. “I was two days late,” she admits, obviously not caring one bit about what he said.

“And that’s all he left you?”

“It means goodbye,” Emma admitted. He gave her a small smile, knowing nothing he can say will help. “I can’t believe they dragged you here for this after all this time.” He wasn’t that surprised. Catching her the first time had been his defining moment; if he failed the second time, they could write it off as a fluke.

“It’s been a long time, Swan.” She smirked at the name. “But can’t blame them. I was the only one who caught you, none of the others even got close.” She looked at him quizzically.

He was dusty, fresh from an exploded PO box that his latest case--nicknamed The Dutchman-- had left specifically for him. There were strange threads left on his clothing that none of the Harvard grad FBI agents could tell him anything about. It was something that had agitated him greatly before he’d been pulled here, to find her.

“This guy’s good,” he told her, watching her look him over. “Maybe even better than you. I’ve been hunting him for a few months now and-” She moved quickly, standing and plucking one of the threads off his jacket blazer. It shined strangely as it caught the light. Killian could hear the marshals, or maybe S.W.A.T. pounding through the doors a few floors beneath them.

“What’s it worth if I can tell you what this is?” she asked, handing it to him.

“What-”

“I can tell you what these are right now in exchange,” she said quickly. He could practically see the thoughts and plans race in her mind. Time was running out. “In exchange for a meeting,” she concluded.

“A meeting?” he asked.

“A meeting in one week. Deal?” she asked. They were coming. Killian nodded. Despite his misgivings, it was only a meeting.

“That’s the new security fiber to the Canadian $100 bill,” she said, just in time for the other agents to drag her away. Her smile is bright and mischievous as she refuses to break their gaze until the last possible moment. “I’ll see you in a week!”

“And I was right. It was. According to Agent Jones, it nearly created an international incident.”

“Did you catch him?”

“We did.”

It hadn’t been easy, not for Emma now wearing an ankle monitor to keep her in check--a fact that made her insides squirm at the thought of being tethered-- where anything going bad meant she had to go back to prison with no hope of finding Neal.

It made her heart race in that familiar way of when she was a child and got placed. When one wrong move meant they'd send her back.

“He did a good job disappearing,” Ruby told her in the shadows of Granny’s guest house. Because her friend knew that her first priority was finding Neal.

(She’d run into the old woman at a thrift store looking for some new clothes to wear after seeing the seedy motel Killian had tried to put her in.

She’d met a kindred spirit in the older woman, a thief after her own heart so to speak. Emma would never forget the look on Killian’s face when he saw her new view. He’d turned to the older woman, “You know she has a criminal record right?” he’d asked her.

Granny had taken it in stride, leaning forward with a smirk. “So did my wife.” she said with a wink.)

"Keep looking, Ruby. I need to find him," she told her friend, her oldest friend. She’d been her partner in crime once, when working with Neal had come with extra stress and baggage. With Ruby things were simpler, easier. Ruby was in the information business. She knew what was being run and where. She knew all the local fences, all the local forgers. If Neal was in the city, Ruby would be able to find him.

Ruby nodded, but she looked worried. She glanced at the anklet in apprehension. Then back at her. All the tell tale signs that Ruby wanted to say something but worried for her reaction.

“You know you don’t need him right?” she blurted out. “You’re so much better than him Emma, more talent for this stuff in your pinky then he has in his whole body. He was nothing without you and everyone knew it,” she said, practically bristling with every word. “He betrayed you, why go through so much to find him?” Emma felt her fists clench, along with anger, fury, loss.

Neal Cassidy was a loaded question where she didn’t have an answer.

But she pushed it down. She pushed it down deep. A smile appeared on her face. There was so much. So much she didn’t know, so much no one knew.

Emma couldn’t risk it.

“It’s complicated Ruby,” she said finally. “But in the meantime, what do you know about The Dutchman?”

It had been difficult, Emma had noticed a particular signature in some forged Canadian bond. It was one that Emma recognized. Lilly Prescott. She was a well known forger that was very good at staying well under the radar. The FBI had never even heard of her which was a testament to her ability.

Emma had tried to work with her once. Her work was good and her planning was even better. But the woman couldn’t help but take things that didn’t belong to her, couldn’t help but press Emma’s buttons in all the worse ways.

It had taken seeing her tongue down Neal’s throat to learn two things: that they couldn’t work together and that it was time to grow up.

And grow up she did when they walked into a church Lilly had been restoring. The little wench had leered at her and Killian. “Emma Swan,” she’d said with a cheeky grin when she caught them comparing her work with that of the signature. “I don’t exactly feel comfortable having a known art thief around my work.”

“Allegedly,” Emma corrected her. She’d never been caught for her art theft. A point of pride if she’s being honest. Just a few forged bonds.

She says glancing at Killian. “Who’s your friend.”

“Just a friend,” Killian assured Lilly as they shook hands.

“Emma doesn’t have any friends,” Lilly pointed out. “Unless you count Neal of course. But with friends like that, who needs enemies?” she laughed.

The name turned in her stomach, like something good that turned rotten, like a vice grip on her that she still couldn’t shake.

Not until she found him.

“Of course,” Killian agreed, glancing her way. I know she’s trying to get under your skin, his gaze told her as she pushed her walls firmer in place. If Killian could see that this woman could affect her, it worried her what else he could see.

“You wouldn’t know anything about a thief known as The Dutchman would you?” Emma asked innocently. Because if there was one thing Emma knew, it was that Lilly hated being outdone. “I hear his work is second only to...oh you know.” She smirked at her. “Allegedly of course.”

“Of course,” Lilly said, an edge to her words. It’s all Emma needed to hear. Because she knows she did it. That’s what she tells Killian after they’re asked to leave the church.

“I know she did it Killian.” his hand on her arm halted her pacing. “Did you see the look on her face?”

He did, she knew he did. “I believe you Swan, but we need proof,” Killian insisted. “That’s how this works.”

Proof came with Emma breaking into Lily’s warehouse and Killian coming and arresting them both. She’d cut her anklet after all, seizing all Lily’s things that were in plain sight.

It turned out reading all those law books in prison counted for something.

“And then your partnership was born.”

And it was good, if Killian was honest, it was better than he ever expected when Emma had proposed this deal. She showed up every day for work. She often showed up in ridiculously expensive suits with a fedora on her head. He’d groaned when he first saw it, earning an elbow in his side and a “You just don’t understand fashion.”

(Trouble, like the woman who occasionally gave Emma tips about the criminals they were hunting, the woman who introduced herself rather reluctantly as a Missy Wolfe when Killian had showed up unannounced, who looked him over with a predatory glare and called him a ‘suit’.

“She doesn’t trust cops.” Emma had explained later. “She’s harmless, I promise.”

But she sure did know how to drink all Killian’s beer that’s for sure.)

Every day they would use her knowledge of the criminal underworld to find white collar criminals. After several weeks, they had a 92% closure rate and an even higher recovery rate.

But there was still this thing hanging above them. Between them. A secret they both knew about but refused to talk about.

And his name was Neal Cassidy.

Killian could tell she was looking for him no matter how many times he told her not to. Neal was her weakness, the one thing that caused the normally level headed woman to lose her bloody mind. This was a good thing for her. Emma Swan would rot behind bars and this way at least she was doing good.

Emma Swan liked doing good. He could tell, even when she refused to admit it.

She brought him his picture one day while they’re on their way to speak to a witness, the picture was from an atm in Tallahassee. “Please.” She begged. “I need to find him, to see him. Come with me please, send an agent, the marshals, send me in full shackles and prison oranges I don’t care.”

He had never seen her so desperate, not when he caught her, not when she asked him for this...arrangement. “Swan...what we have here...it’s good. It’s a second chance for you, why risk it for him? He put you here. Why risk it all for him?”

She didn’t respond, hands tightened into fists as she looked down. Killian swore he saw something in her expression something that would explain how this intelligent woman being so infatuated with-

“You’re right.” She says, her voice level. Eyes hard like steel. “There is no reason for me to be chasing Neal Cassidy.” She hissed the words.

Killian doesn’t have her super power, but he knows there’s more to the story than she’s letting on. “If there’s something you’re not telling me-” But she shook her head.

“You said it’s not happening, and what does it matter what I want.” She says shifting on her feet, shifting the anklet like she always does when she feels particularly trapped. “I’m just your CI. A convict without a choice in any of this.”

He stops her right there. “Swan, when have I ever treated you like you don’t have a choice in this? If you don’t like what we ask of you, if you think it’s too riky all you have to do is say the word and-”

“-And I go to prison.” She snapped. “I go back there and rot.” Her temper was flaring and Killian stepped back, fearing getting burned.

“When have I ever threatened you with that?” He asked sincerely. “When have I ever told you that unless you go undercover with this mobster, or that corporate trader that you’d be shipped back?” He says.

Emma doesn’t respond, head dipping slightly. “What about the other agents? That’s what they said would happen.” She admitted in a small voice. “And really, the jobs we do, they’re fine. I don’t feel endangered.” She assured him simply.

“Emma, I swear to you, your safety and happiness is just as important as these jobs. You are not just a criminal.” He says sternly. He steps closer to her, wanting her to look at him and hear him. Seeing her cowed and unnerved unsettled him. “Try something new darling, it’s called trust.”

“Trust doesn’t exactly come easy to me.” Emma admitted. “There’s really no way I can get to Tallahassee?” She asked once more.

Killian sighed.

The moment they finished the job, he sent a message to Ariel.

“Get me anything you can on Neal Cassidy’s recent activity and do it discreetly.” He says.

“Why?” She asked. It was why he valued the younger agent as much as he does, she knows when to put her head down and do as he asks, but she also knows when to press him for details.

“Emma’s not going to stop pursuing Neal.” He told her. “I want to know what she finds out, finding Neal ourselves is the best way to know what she’s up to.”

She handed him a file on the man the next morning, a file Killian took back home with him at the end of the night. He couldn’t risk Emma catching him snooping on her ex. He felt silly hiding it, but the thought of her knowing he was doing so filled him with dread.

“Maybe you should tell her you’re jealous.” Belle informed him as she came home from class, seeing him consumed with the file at their kitchen table. His little sister always seemed to come home from her classes at just the right moment to see him when he’s consumed with a case.

“I’m not jealous Belle.” He says quickly, closing the file. “I’m being thorough.”

He is. There was something there, his gut feels it. There’s something about this man that Emma was hiding from him.

“After all the cat and mouse you’ve done with her, I bet she’d tell you if you asked.” Belle informs him. But Killian disagreed, he knows she won't be truthful with him if he asked. It’ll be an evasive answer framed to have him pointed in the opposite direction. It was how she worked while on the run. This is the only way.

“How do you know?” Killian asked. “You’ve never even met her.” He reminded her.

“And who’s fault is that?”

“Then the Diamond heist.”

“Then the Diamond heist”

It had happened quickly. A diamond heist that had been done with such perfection Emma was generally impressed. They had video surveillance in the vault and nowhere else. It was as if they just vanished, and considering that New York had extensive video surveillance it was impressive.

It was a job she would do once upon a time. Just the kind of take that was exciting enough to catch her attention. But that was in the past.

Emma was determined to keep her head down when it came to jobs. She had a bigger problem on her hands. Someone had Neal, or at least was putting pressure on him. He’d signaled her from an ATM camera in Tallahassee.

Their plan had always been Tallahassee, a city in the middle of Florida of all places. No one would expect anyone who had stolen millions of dollars of artifacts to retire there of all places. It was perfect. They were going to have the life they always wanted growing up.

(It just so happened that Emma had told him that’s where she had her stash at.

A lie. A trap. Bait he had fallen for now after all this time. Never once did he leave his apartment in New York, only now did that stone come loose. It had to mean something.)

But not everyone knew that Emma was done with that life. Not even her most trusted confidant --and partner in more than one crime--Ruby believed her.

“Of course I didn’t do it.” She’d hissed into the phone when the brunette asked her excitedly. “But do you know who did?”

“None of my contacts know anything, sorry Em. I’ll keep an ear out.” She answered. Emma can hear the sounds of birds on the other end. She knew better than to ask. “That’s why I thought it was you.”

It wasn’t long after that that the forged diamond is shown to have a small swan etched into it. One that matched the ones she left in her forged bonds. It became very clear very fast that she was being framed.

“Killian, you need to know I didn’t do this.” She insisted, backing away from them in the parking lot after having been confronted. “You have to believe me.” Her eyes looked for him. She needed to know he believed her.

It didn’t matter who else did, just him. Because if Killian didn’t have her back then who would?

“Killian?” She asked when he didn't meet her gaze. He did eventually. He looked saddened. “You know I was set up right?”

Killian didn’t respond. It made her furious. It reminded her of the real situation here. She was just the criminal and he was just her handler. Any semblance of a partnership was just a figment of her imagination.

“Swan...” He said softly. “If what you’re saying is true, I swear to you I will get to the bottom of it.” I believe you. “But until then...Emma Swan you are under arrest...”

Back to prison. Back to the cell. Back to being helpless while Neal is off with-

She couldn’t go back. Not yet. Not when someone was trying to frame her. The same person who was holding Neal, she was sure of it.

So Emma did what she did best. She ran.

She ran and ran and ran. She’d spent every day on her walks to the office coming up with escape routes through a city she knows too well. The agents depend too much on the anklet to catch her.

The tracker is tamper proof but no one ever said it was foolproof. All it takes is a sharp knife and a toss over the edge of one of the many footbridges in Manhattan for it to be a useless blinking distraction.

Every bone in her body tells her to run as fast and as far as she can. It wouldn’t take much to get out of the city, some cash from one of Ruby’s stashes and a visit to some supplies for a new ID. All she would have to do is say the word and Ruby would run with her. She was good like that, always ready to get into all sorts of trouble for her.

But if she did, if she ran then she would be as good as guilty of this crime. She would never get a chance to prove her innocence. She would never get her chance to find Neal.

She had to find Neal.

I believe you. Killian had tried to tell her that. Maybe it was time to try that thing called trust...

It’s how she meets Belle because while Killian is off coordinating with the Marshals, she’s drinking tea with the sweet brunette she had sent an 18th birthday gift to a few years back.

Killian Jones’s little sister was as fierce as her brother. Belle asked her if she’d done the crime she’d been accused of.

No.

And she had leveled her with a steel glare. “Then Killian will prove it.” She’d said with such certainty, such conviction that she understood a bit about Killian’s stubbornness. It was genetic. “You just need to trust him.”

Emma did. Emma really did, more than she trusted anyone. He was honest, a good man. He was fierce keeping her out of the line of danger when at all possible and he cared for her. Moments like this reminded Emma of why everything had gone so wrong.

I’m tired of running.

“I’m going to call him.” Belle says, not a question. “If you don’t think you can, if you really think Killian won’t have your back after everything, you have until then to leave.” Emma doesn’t move. Not when Belle is talking to Killian about her classes, about having found a stray bird in their patio. (Code for her she assumes)

That’s when she sees the blinking in the cable box and she knows. She knows that this is all a lot bigger than the two of them.

Killian was positively furious when he arrived, all red faced and fuming. “Bloody hell Swan!” Killian hisses when he storms in. “Why did you come here?” Emma didn’t know, not really. Just an instinct and her instinct was telling her to come here. That he would know what to do. “If you were going to run, why come here?! You involved my sister!”

Emma swallows back her words, fear taking a hold in her chest.

“Killian. Give her a chance.” Belle said, taking a place inbetween. “Just listen.” He did.

“I’ve been tracking Neal.” Emma admitted. “Someone...someone has him.“ she takes out the photo she’d shown him. The whole photo, she had been too afraid to show it to him earlier, the hand on his arm, the shine of something pressed against his ribs. Something that looked very similar to a revolver. “They want something I stole but I can’t-I don’t know what it is. I had a friend of mine poke around and I think I got too close.” She explains. “Because they framed me. It has to be connected, Killian.”

There was no other explanation, stirring this fight or flight instinct in her bones. But she has to hold firm, she has to trust in Killian. Because here she was, all her cards on the table.

“Maybe, but this is not how to do things.” He says sternly. “Running isn’t going to get you anywhere but caught or-” Killian swallows back his words. “That marshal really has it in for you Swan.”

(The marshall in question was one Walshe Greene, appearing the moment they returned to the office wanting to speak to her about the fact that some of her anklet’s tracking data had gotten corrupted.

Data that just so happened to coincide with the robbery. He’d been dickish and entitled, coming into her space when she didn’t crumble under his thinly veiled threats.

Threats she didn’t tell Killian about.)

She pointed over to his deconstructed cable box. “Not just me.” She hissed his way. A bug was in his house, in his home. The home he shared with his sister. “Both of us.”

She sees his barely concealed furry, the shock and fear on Belle’s face. “Whatever is coming, it’s coming for both of us.”

“She was cleared of that.”

“She was. Then you seemed to find her rather quickly, despite telling Marshal Greene that he would catch her with wanted posters and roadblocks.”

“I have exceptional luck.”

Things shifted from there. Instead of working this case on one end and Emma from another, Killian felt her walls fracture ever so slightly, and perhaps the guard he put up around her also came down ever so slightly. Perhaps too much.

(Once they found one bug in his home, Belle was insistent that someone come over and deep clean their place of any form of listening devices. It wasn’t long after the case got wrapped up that Emma called over an ‘exterminator’.

“Missy Wolfe.” She introduced herself to Belle, a smirk on her face. “But you sweetie can call me Red.” Belle had raised an eyebrow at her.

“When Emma mentioned she knew someone, I expected you to be...”

“Less gorgeous?” She’d said with a grin. “And when our mutual friend had said the suit had a cute sister I definitely imagined someone like you.” A surge of protectiveness surged within him at the way that Red was looking at his sister.

“I think you’re here to do a job” He reminded her.

“I am quite a skilled multitasker.” )

She showed him her lead to whoever was after them. A message in the video surveillance, of their breakup and Neal messaging her in morse code by tapping at his side. Dream It meant the dream catcher which led her to a meeting in Grand Central Terminal at the end of the week.

Killian had been there when he called her. Seen her panicked face when she heard his voice. “Give him what he wants.” Neal had said.

“What is it he wants?” She’d asked.

“Give him everything. It’s the only way I can come home, the only way for us to be together.” He said. Killian could feel her heart break when she said the words.

“I can’t Neal. It’s the only leverage I have.” She looked up and Emma ran. She ran because she saw him. She saw her lover that she can’t reach, can’t catch, can’t have. Killian makes him out for a moment but he’s gone. He’s gone by the time they get to where he was, a roof of a building looking down at them.

Emma collapsed in a sob and he was barely in time to catch her. Barely in time for him to hold her. She cried into his chest, something rare and primal and aching.

“I just want him back.” she sobbed and his heart ached for her. He understood the feeling of losing someone you love, of not being able to be with them. He holds her, hand running through her hair, her blonde locks that are growing in from the cut she’d done months before. His head finds a place on the top of her head as he tries his best to comfort her.

Emma came back to herself after a moment, pulling away, rubbing her sadness from her face as easily as putting on a mask.

“We are late for a case aren’t we?”

They are. But there’s something about the vulnerability of Emma in that moment that conflicted with the flirty beautiful woman in front of him that distressed him. Perhaps it’s the ease that her walls come back up.

Or maybe, they aren’t walls, maybe it’s a loosely fitted cork, because their next case involves a kidnapped child and a pair of parents so obsessed with the reading of their dead aunt’s will to even know when the little girl had been taken.

Questions like if the will had been forged, or if the inheritance was filled with counterfeits had become meaningless without the child. A fact that exploded out of Emma at the father who was planning on leaving the country with ‘his’ inheritance before the FBI could interfere. The man had crumbled before her blunt display of emotions, her fury and her grief.

“She deserves better than to be just another pawn in whatever game the two of you are playing.” She hissed. “It’s not about money, take it for someone who’s had a hell of a lot. There’s more to life than numbers on a check and if anything happens to that kid you’re going to learn that the hard way too.”

He understood. He understood then, and he understood later.

“Case hit home for you didn’t it?” He asked afterwards over a beer once the child was reunited with parents that may have learned a thing about family from Emma. An old bookie of the husband had tried to pressure him into complying.

“Little kids are cute, what can I say.” She said evasively while taking the offered beer. That was another sign Emma was still hurting, she hated beer. “She deserves better.” That she did. “You did too.” He smirks, knowing that she knew him better than most. Yet he wondered exactly how much she did know.

“And how much exactly do you know about my childhood?”

“I know that you loved your father, you idolized him. You had his knack for numbers.” She said. “I know he used you as a diversion when the feds came in and busted down your door. He left you and your mom with nothing.” She swallowed and he could see her picking her words carefully. That meant she knew more than most. “I know you learned that he had at least two other families, an elder brother in DC. and a younger sister in Georgia who appeared at your door when you had just lost your mom. You took her in no questions asked.” Killian remembers the day he met his elder brother. The man had been older and took one look at him and wanted nothing to do with him. Killian was just another reminder of what Brennan Jones had done. He also remembers the day several years later when a teenaged Belle had knocked on his door. He took one look at her and remembered what Brennan had done, but he swore to accept her no matter how much the reminder hurt.

“So you know quite a bit, Swan.” He responded. “I also know a bit myself.” He countered.

“Of course you do.” She laughed, “I bet you even know my shoe size.”

“8.5 or sometimes 9 if the shoe runs small.” He said with a smirk. “You left a pair in that hotel in Rio.” A pair of bright red pumps that matched a bright red dress. “Why do you care so much?” Or maybe it’s the beer talking, talking too much if he’s honest. “Neal betrayed you, he left you, why do you care so much about saving him?”

The laughter dies from her face, something heavy takes its place. “Seeing my position a little too similar to your own?” She deflected. “Someone who got left behind just like you?”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you deserve so much better Swan.”

“What exactly do I deserve Agent Jones.” She said, leaning forward. “I’m a criminal.” That she is. But he doesn’t think about that when he leans forward and cups her cheek. He doesn’t think about that when he brushes strands of blonde hair out of her face, nor when he smiles and-

"Has Agent Jones ever behaved unprofessionally?"

Killian Jones was the embodiment of professional.

He had to be, with a family history like his. Even Emma’s heard of it through her underground contacts. She’s heard of the legendary Brennan Jones who masterminded a theft like no other, millions of dollars gone in a blink of an eye.

She’d heard through the office gossip about him. About how no one trusted him when he was recruited right out of college, his superiors always made things difficult. Never trusting that he wasn’t just like his father.

Killian Jones was the embodiment of professional, that’s what made Emma enjoy the chase so much. Because she knew it was a true battle of wits, not like the muscle head marshals. Killian was smart and honorable. If he was going to catch her, it would be done the right way.He was just like her.

But the way he looks at her sometimes is so not professional in all of the best ways.

Sometimes he looks fuming, mostly when she’s pushed the limits a bit too far, gets in over her head, and just makes it out by the skin of her teeth. But always looks relieved when she makes it out.

Sometimes he looks like she holds the sun and the moon because she’s figured out some con or trick someone pulls. It always comes with a “You’re brilliant Swan.” when no one else is listening. She always shoots back a knowing smirk, tucks a loose strand of blonde behind her ear and replies with “I know.” It always makes him roll his eyes but his expression never wavers.

And that one time, after a particularly draining case, after that little girl with parents who didn’t give a damn about her had been rescued and she thought...she thought he was going to kiss her and...

And Emma may have to admit to herself that she wanted him to.

But with Neal, and the FBI frowning upon CI handler relationships, not that a kiss meant a relationship...God Emma was confused. They hadn’t kissed and perhaps she had misread the situation completely. Because he’d practically scrambled away when it happened.

He’d ran out the door with some made up excuse on his lips, a deep blush on his face.

Maybe it was all in her head, maybe she was the one being unprofessional. But she can’t help the way he makes her feel more than her past, more than what she can do.

With Neal it had always felt like it was them against the world.

With Killian she thinks maybe they can just exist in the world, maye make it a little better in the process.

What makes it worse was a conversation she hears between Ariel and Killian days after their almost kiss. Days after she spends a night dreaming of what could be.

Emma hadn’t meant to be eavesdropping, but she had a lead on their new case and was heading into his open office when she heard them talking in tense low voices.

“What was your talk with Neal like?” The younger agent asked him. It makes her stop in her tracks, makes her heartbeat wildly.

He shot Ariel a glare and told her to keep her voice down. But he hadn’t refuted her claim.

He doesn’t tell her about it later when she finds a more convenient time to talk to her about the case.

“Why wouldn’t he tell me?” Emma asked Ruby later in her apartment over a tall glass of wine. Because she desperately needs the alcohol to calm down her racing thoughts.

“Emma...Does it ever occur to you that maybe...maybe Killian is involved?” She contemplated, sitting across from Emma with her own equally tall glass of wine.

“Involved?”

“Killian is in the prime position if you think about it.” She muses. “You under his thumb, maybe Neal in his back pocket. Maybe it was him all along.” Emma shook her head because no. It couldn’t be.

Killian Jones was the embodiment of professional.

“Then why is he keeping his meeting with Neal a secret when you’ve been upfront with him? After all, his own father is a master of crime, maybe the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree?”

“So she trusted you?”

“Yes.”

Emma Swan does trust him.

Killian remembered that case they had a few months back, Emma had gone and broken into a shady hospital without backup or a warrant. The case had involved Granny’s granddaughter not getting a kidney and she’d gone rouge.

Something he warned her against a half dozen times by this point.

She’d broken in and gotten caught and drugged up to the gills. Killian had had to get in and break her out without anyone realizing. He’d even stolen the security tapes.

“I trust you Killian...out of everyone in my life, Neal, Ruby...you are the only one I truly trust.”

Emma did trust him. She trusted him with her free smile when she was feeling particularly excited out on a job. She trusted him with her fury when things were hard and she felt truly trapped by their arrangement. She trusted him with her tears when she thought about Neal. She didn’t often say much but he just knows.

He knows her.

Emma trusted him to know her and Killian knew it’s not something freely given.

But then out of nowhere that guarded expression on her face returns. Any move he made seems to be met with passive aggressive responses and half truths. She had her barely contained fury back beneath her eyes.

It reminded him of a young agent who was furious when he learned that all the older agents were laughing behind his back. When he learned that they would never take him seriously because he was damaged. He was a joke.

Emma Swan was no joke.

It unsettled him, he can’t figure out what changed.

Or perhaps he was reading too much into her responses, after all, he was keeping a rather large secret from her. Because despite not wanting to hurt her, not wanting to break her trust, he feared this new information would be too much for her. Too much temptation.

Because there was nothing more tempting to Emma than information about Neal Cassidy.

It had taken some favors and a considerable amount of FBI weight throwing to secure the meeting, but he’d had it. Killian had had a meeting with Neal Cassidy.

He knew what they wanted from Emma.

(“A music box, she stole it in Germany just before...about a year before you caught her. They won’t let me go...they won’t let us be together without it.” He’d assured him.

“How do we know any of this is real?” He asked him. “How do we know this isn’t some game to get in her head?”

Neal gave him a disbelieving smirk. “I guess you don’t know. But considering you don’t know the whole story, I have to say that I have the advantage.”

“I find that whenever the supposed hostage talks about having the advantage they are rarely telling the truth.” He replies firmly.

“Ask Emma about the job we ran in October. If she tells you the truth then you’ll know exactly why Emma has to hand over the music box”)

He knew what they wanted from Emma, but he wasn’t sure if telling her would be smart. He honestly wasn’t sure if she could handle it.

That is, until in the middle of a job, a sting operation Emma had snapped. She’d nearly turned him in, her eyes had turned steely and she hissed that she knew.

“I know you have Neal, that this whole thing is a game, a trap, a trick.” she seethed. It had completely caught him off guard.

“What?!” He’d demanded, but the mark was listening, hell all his agents were listening. They couldn’t do this here. “If you have ever trusted me, you’ll give me a chance to explain myself otherwise get back to the case.” He’d said sharply. He met her steely glare with her own and nodded once.

I trust you.

She’d proven it later that day when their mark had locked in an airlock and they only had one canister of air. She’d shoved it into his grasp. “I trust you.” She’d whispered out loud this time. Please don’t play me for a fool.

He hadn’t, of course. They’d found their way out and sitting there in front of a multimillion dollar mansion swarmed with agents and bundled in shock blankets, he’d told her.

“I met Neal.” He admitted her. Her eyes are wide, but she’s not surprised. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t think you could handle it.” But he was wrong, so wrong.

“You had no right to keep that from me.” She replied sharply. “But I understand why you did.” her expression softened. “I know how I must look to you: a love sick fool chasing after a man who hurt me. Risking everything for him...”She trailed off before fixing him a firm gaze. “What did he tell you?”

“He told me what he wanted. A music box.”

“A music box.” Emma repeated. She laughed at her words. Laughed like he’d told her the most ridiculous joke in the world. “Then let’s go get the music box.”

“And where was the music box?”

“Under our noses the whole time.”

“Bloody hell Swan!” He’d cursed. “How?”

It had been one of her most daring moves. She’s not sure why she decided to do it, but after she thought of it...the idea was just too intoxicating. It was a challenge, a dare and perfect. So perfect.

Getting the music box had been difficult, a job that didn’t really interest Neal. It was a little too flashy without enough reward. Thankfully a fence of hers had been able to take his place on the job.

(A fact that Neal was not happy about.)

Graham had been good, and it had gone off nearly flawlessly. She’d given him a cut of the profit she would make when she sold the music box--and a slap for a stolen kiss that Neal still doesn’t know about--except she never did get around to selling the damn thing.

She’d meant to, really. But this was right in the beginning of Agent Jones pursuit of her and she’d thought he was cute and enjoyed teasing him with her gifts.

So Emma had set to work. A good forger can make something worthless look real, but only a great forger could make a priceless artifact seem like a fake knock off.

So that’s what she did. No one ever knew, they didn’t even suspect it.

“My sister!” Killian exclaims again. “What did I tell you about involving her?” Emma shrugs.

“To be fair I had already long sent it to her by the time you gave me that warning.” She told him simply, picking up the item. “I assume it came back clean when you sent it to the lab?” It was smaller than she remembered, a fake gloss painted on to mask it’s trace components.

“They traced it to a manufacturer in China and Belle liked how it sounded. Bloody hell, what would we have done if she had tossed it like I wanted to do?” She’d found a similar looking one and stole the packaging. Emma shrugged.

“I didn’t exactly anticipate for some rogue agent to kidnap Neal for this thing. I didn’t even steal it for anything other than morbid curiosity.” She admitted. “Now that we have it, when can we get the meeting?” She asks.

Killian sighs. “I’ve put word out, hopefully Neal will contact me and we can set a time.”

“Or.” Emma adds. “We can contact the person pulling the strings behind this, behind everything.” She snaps.

“We don’t know for sure.” Killian says with a calming gesture.

“You really think Walshe has nothing to do with this?” Emma snaps. “After coming into town just in time to frame me for the diamond heist?”

Killian doesn’t respond. Emma takes the music box tightly in her hands. “This has to end. It has to end now.”

“Swan-” But she steps out of his grip. “We need to do this the right way, catch him red handed, not just hand him what he wants, when will it end?”

Oh it’ll end. The stakes were too high for Emma not to see to it that this cat and mouse game end now.

Plans circulated in her head, how to get out with the music box, how to make the exchange before Killian could talk her into a more by the book plan. Sometimes things couldn’t go by the book. Sometimes the ugly gritty way was the only way.

Killian’s phone rang loudly at his side. He picks it up, giving Emma a look. We’ll figure this out, you just need to trust me.

But something on the other end was clearly very wrong. His eyes narrowed and she could see something darker and fiercer just below the surface. “Stay there Belle.”

He could hear the younger girl talking quickly on the phone, Killian’s hand clenched. She was clearly very upset.“I’ll be right there. Do not say a single word until I get there.” He glanced at her. “We need to go now. Belle’s just been arrested.”

“She was arrested because the Marshalls believed a phone call she received from an unfamiliar number was our father.”

“Was it?”

“Just a spam caller”

The marshalls had wanted him out of the way, and they got it. It hadn’t taken much. They had Belle in handcuffs, her eyes were red as her classmates looked on, Walshe’s grip on her was rough and his words had been rude and vial and then he’d had the balls to mention Emma. So he’d swung and decked Walshe Green in the face.

It felt good. But it ended with him in cuffs besides Belle. He’d watched a wide eyed Emma leave with Ariel, considering her handler was about to be put on suspension he was glad she wasn’t being taken into custody next. She’d been strangely silent through the whole ordeal.

Emma had tried to deescalate the situation at first, but a comment Walshe had made left her frozen. Emma Swan never froze up.

“You never know, a parent’s greatest desire is to see their kid, wouldn’t you agree Emma?”

It wasn’t until afterwards. After he was back home missing his badge and gun, he realized two things.

The Music box was gone.

This had never been about Neal.

“When we were originally tackling The Swan, Emma took a year gap where we couldn’t find a single hint of a job she was running. The working theory was that she was waiting for the heat of her last job to die down.”

“And now?”

“Now I realize that she went underground for a different reason.”

They met at the drop point.

Emma felt bad for having Ruby steal the music box from Killian’s house, but it was the only way. No one was supposed to know about him. No one was ever supposed to connect her to the little boy that was born in New York Hospital in October of that year.

They were supposed to disappear and start a new life together, Tallahassee.

Neal and her called it Tallahassee. It was the end game plan, retire and move to Florida or some island in the tropics. But Neal had never wanted to go clean, so Emma took her son and ran.

So Neal set a trap for her. She set a trap so she couldn’t disappear with their kid.

“When you get out.” He said, holding one of his toys, one of her son’s toys “We can be a family. It was only four years.”

Emma had hated him for four years, for robbing her of that time together, of wanting to be a father and changing his mind and then changing his mind again.

It wasn’t until now, until Neal was faced with losing their kid, of him being abducted and held above their heads that he truly cared. Maybe, maybe it’s not too late for them.

They met at the drop point, except there was no Neal, only Walshe. But she doesn't let that shake her resolve.

“Where is he?” She demanded.

“Neal is around.” Walshe said cryptically. “I hear you have my box.” She didn’t deny it.

“I’m not talking about Neal.” She said. “You’re not getting a damn thing unless I can see my son.” The man smirked wider than he had any reason to.

“Don’t trust me?”

Emma didn’t dignify his words with a response. He gave a large sigh and opened his car door. There in the backseat, passed out in his car seat is Henry. She hadn’t seen him since he was an infant, but she knew. It was her son. Her four year old little boy looked positively exhausted but in good health. It made her gasp in relief, tears gathering in her eyes.

He’s gotten so big.

“Where’s my music box?”

She gave it to him without a moment’s hesitation. Her only focus was pulling that boy into her arms and never letting go. She was never letting him go again. “Neal said to give you these.” Walshe added after the box is placed securely in his car. It was an envelope. She takes it with the hand not around the boy.

Papers...She realized a whole new identity and not just for her. Neal, Emma and Henry Nolan. A normal happy little family. It was good, extensive.

A happy ending after all. Four years ago this is all she’d ever wanted.

“There’s a jet waiting for you, it’ll take you wherever you want. The three of you can disappear.” Walshe explained.

“Why?” Emma asks. “Why go through all of this? Kidnapping my son, using him to get to Neal to get to me? Just for that.” Because it wasn’t worth that much, not enough for all this.

“Because my employer wants it.” Walshe said cryptically. But he doesn’t elaborate, he doesn’t need to. It says all she needs to know.

There’s someone behind the curtain.

“You better get going. Neal is waiting for you.” The address was written in the envelope, so she settled Henry in his car seat in her car and then she headed out.

But not before she sent Belle the most expensive collection of sketch books and paints money can buy, art school wasn’t cheap and she had talent. Real talent.

Not before she called Granny and thanked her for everything.

Not before she called Ruby and told her about Henry. The papers...

(“I don’t know why you didn’t trust me to tell me the truth Emma.” She’d said. “But for what it’s worth I’m glad you are finally getting the life that you want. But you know what I always say-”

“A happy ending.” Emma breathed. “Is all about where you stop the story.”

She could feel Ruby’s grin through the phone. “From the moment we met, I knew your story was going to be exciting, but my question is, is this where you want to stop the story?” )

But Emma didn’t have time to contemplate her words. She needed to go. They had to get out, they needed to run. This is what she always wanted.

She was 50 feet from the plane when she heard her name being called out in the terminal.

“Swan!” It makes her stop in her tracks. She can’t help but feel her chest tighten at the sound of her name. She turned to see him. His suit is rumpled, tie missing. He looks like he ran all the way here. “Swan wait.” She did. She had to.

“You can’t stop me Killian.” She said. “You can’t.”

He nodded. “I know, all of this was sanctioned. It’s all an op as far as anyone can tell.” He agreed. “Legally I can’t interfere.”

Legally.

“Why are you here Killian?” Sha asked.

“I’m here to remind you of what you’re walking away from if you get on that plane. I know what you want Swan, I’ve always known. You want to be a part of something. You are here.” She bit her lip, he was smiling at her, something delicate and desperate. He wanted her to stay so badly.

“Neal once said that we run. We run until when we run from something we just miss it.” She recalled.

“You don’t need to run anymore Emma. You can stay. You and your son. You can stay.” He promised. “You don’t have to look over your shoulder anymore.”

“Why are you here Killian?” She asked again. Because it can’t be for her. It didn’t make sense. She’s a criminal, a convict, a fraud. She didn’t deserve for him to look at her like that.

“Because you sent Belle art supplies. You called Ruby and Granny. You said goodbye to everyone except for me.” He reminded her “Why?”

Why hadn’t she?

“Because...” she trailed off. “You’re the only person who could change my mind.”

He smiled at her, close enough to cup her cheek. “Did I?” She doesn't speak. She can’t. She leans in and kisses him. Something she never dared to want. Never dared to even consider.

It was better than she ever imagined. It was something that she would surely miss if she got on that plane.

But is it enough? Is it enough to turn away from a definite happy ending? Or is she walking away from it? “Killian...

Emma didn’t get a chance to contemplate the issue further.

Because when she looks back at the plane, at Neal’s face in the window of the plane, before she has a chance the plane explodes.

“And you know the rest.” Killian says. “They immediately took Emma into custody. Investigators descended on the terminal, Walshe went underground and you’re here to determine if my actions warrant you taking my badge.”

The investigators glare at him, clearly not believing some of what he’s saying. But they’ve been glaring at him since he stepped into the room. It was probably a side effect of having just interviewed Emma.

But it doesn’t matter what they believe. All that matters is what they choose to do. They can choose to give him back his badge and gun and let him do his job. Or they won’t.

“Do you believe Ms.Swan set the bomb that killed Mr. Cassidy?”

He looks them dead in the eye. “No.” He says pointedly. “She would never do that.” Not just because she was supposed to be on that plane, not just because her son was supposed to be on that plane but because Emma wasn’t a killer.

They don’t ask him any more questions.

He walks out the door with his badge, his gun and a warning. But there’s time to worry about that later. Right now all Killian wants to do is see her. He wants to see if she’s there. If she had left before he was done or if she was waiting for him.

And she is. She’s leaning against his door of his car a smile on her face and a-

“Another hat Swan?” He asks. Emma smirks, removing the hat and placing it on his head.

“I think it looks pretty good.” Emma says with a smirk and a subtle bite of her lip. “What do you think?” Now it’s Killian’s turn to smirk. She looks brilliant with that hat, so he places it back on her blonde head of hair. It does little to distract from the brand new tracker on her ankle, but he appreciated the attempt. Its slimmer chases less according to the memo Emma had emailed him..

“How’s Henry?” He asks. It had been a few weeks since she met the boy, since he’d caught him and his mother from the explosive blast of the plane that killed his father.

“Adjusting.” She says, her grin fading.

Emma wasn’t allowed to keep him, social workers didn’t feel comfortable given that she was a current convict with an unusual situation. Thankfully Ariel was a registered foster parent with a spare bedroom. Henry had immediately taken a shine to Ariel and her husband and their current foster, a six year old girl named Melody.

It wasn’t perfect, but Emma could see him as often as she wanted while she applied to earn back rights she never should have lost.

“What now?” Emma asks. Her hand drifts to his. Her hands are softer than he’d thought. He leans in close, not too close but closer than he should. Closer than a handler should be with his charge. But he was close enough to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She’s smiling.

“Now? We have another case.” He tells her.

“And later?” She adds. “What do you plan to do about Walshe, and Neal and-”

“I don’t know.” He says honestly. “But whatever we do, know that we’ll figure it out together.”

#cs january joy #csjj 2021 #Captain Swan #once upon a time #White Collar AU

35 notes · View notes

sprnklersplashes · 4 years ago

Text

the perfect partner (one-shot)

captain cygnet+captain swan

Very few people believe Killian can actually cook. He’s Captain Hook after all, terror of the high seas, the most cut throat pirate to ever hoist a sail, et cetra, et cetra. No one thinks that he would be able to whip up a mean casserole or being the best cottage pie to the potlucks at Granny’s. But life is full of surprises, especially in Storybrooke, a place where Snow White is a bandit turned schoolteacher, Little Red Riding Hood is a werewolf and the wife of Dorothy Gale, and oh yes, Captain Hook is an excellent chef.

And tonight he’s turning to Italian, stirring the rice once more before turning down the heat on it. He always cooks it from scratch, never store bought. Zeus only knows how many chemicals are in those things. On the rare occasions she cooks, Emma simply raises an eyebrow at him, reminding him that not everyone has the time to go out and buy ten ingredients or the patience to make something from scratch. Much as he loves Emma, he has to disagree with her. Especially since Henry introduced him to cooking blogs on the Internet, he’s found it simpler than ever.

He chops up a few more mushrooms than necessary before throwing them into the pot, fully aware that this is likely the first time his wife or his daughter have eaten a vegetable today and he’s determined to make the most of it. Hope has inherited many wonderful things from her mother, bravery, kindness, a sharp sense of humour, but she’s also inherited her mother’s eating habits and despite her swearing up and down she had a healthy lunch, he’s not entirely convinced. At fifteen, she's past her ‘butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth’ phase and the supply of chocolate bars in the cupboard is getting smaller each morning.

“Dad?” When he looks up, the girl herself is standing in the doorway, a small smile on her face that doesn’t hide her anxiety. He drops the spoon, barely remembering to turn the heat down more before turning to her. Since having Hope, he’s discovered an instinct that’s completely new to him after 300 years. A change in the way she walks or a crack in her voice has him standing to attention with all the discipline of his Navy days. It also doesn’t help Hope’s case that she tends to wear her emotions on her sleeve.

“Anything wrong, love?” he asks.

“No… well… I don’t know,” she replies, beginning to pick at her nails. “I need a favour.”

“What is it?”

“Well….” Her voice grows higher as she steps into the kitchen, her eyes looking anywhere but him as she bites her lip. “You know how I’m going to the dance with Melody, right?”

“Yes.” How could he forget? The entire Charming-Swan clan had been waiting with held breath to see when Hope would finally pluck up the courage to ask the little mermaid out. Emma was close to asking Melody out for Hope, since it had worked in getting her brother and Gideon together, but Snow had held her back, insisting Hope needs to find her path herself. Unfortunately, their daughter isn’t as gifted with charm as her grandfather is, nor does she have the blunt bravery of her mother. Hope spent weeks in wide-eyed friendship with her, the date of the dance looming closer with no sign of her asking, her nerves getting the better of her at every turn. Eventually, Robin intervened before anyone else could, and Melody agreed with the kind of perky enthusiasm her mother is well-known for.

All in all, it was an exhausting affair.

“Well… the thing is…” Her cheeks turn pink and then crimson and she folds her arms, tapping her foot against the kitchen floor. “Idon’tknowhowtodance.”

It takes Killian a while to work out what she said, but when he does, he’s a little taken aback by it. He’s sure he danced with her when she was young, and he always assumed it was in her blood, just like courage and compassion and magic. He thought it came with the Princess package.

“You can’t?” he repeats gently, sensing Hope’s embarrassment from her tight shoulders.

“Nope,” she sighs, shaking her head. There’s a scowl on her face and either anger or shame sparking in her green eyes, a look he’s seen more than once on Emma. She rakes a hand though her hair, attempting a weak shrug. “I mean it’s just… You know, dance class never really worked out for me. And I never really liked it anyway. And they didn’t like me.” Killian nods, curling his hand into a fist. Snow had insisted Hope take ballet and ballroom classes as a child, even though it became clear she wasn’t cut out for them. The poor girl still struggled with balance and rhythm and when every other girl in the class turned left, she went right. She lasted a few years before the two of them decided to put her out of her misery and take her out of the classes. He had never seen Hope so happy as when Emma asked her that. And while they couldn’t get an official diagnosis of dyspraxia, no one was surprised when it was suggested.

“They didn’t not like you Hope,” he reminds her now.

“I know, they just didn’t like my body and it’s lack of coordination,” she replies, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. “I mean this is kind of your fault when you think about it.”

“How exactly?”

“You made me,” she replies, breaking out into her trademarked sarcastic grin, covering up any insecurity. She gestures to herself as if to prove her point. “This dyspraxic mess is entirely your fault.”

“50%,” he responds, laughing along with her. “You’re only half me. But… you still want to dance with her?”

“Well, yeah.” She bites the inside of her cheek, her face turning the same kind of pale pink it normally does when she thinks about Melody. “I want her to have a good time. And don’t-” She adds just as he opens his mouth. “Don’t tell me that we’ll have a good time no matter what. It’s a dance. I want to dance with her.” She looks at the ground, now biting her lip and resuming picking her nails, faster and deeper this time. “So… can you teach me?”

“Oh, Hope,” he says. As if she’d ever need to ask. “Use your little talking device to pick a song. Then I’ll show you how to dance, Cygnet.”

And when she smiles at him, dimples and sparkling eyes and laughter, it makes the 300 year wait for her worth it.

She flicks through her phone and turns on a song about Christmas lights, guitar strings and lovers and sets it on the counter, the music filling their kitchen.

“Good girl. Now you take my hand. Now, normally the man leads but in this case-”

“Such heterosexual nonsense” she sighs dramatically, tossing her head back at the tragedy. She pulls her long, black hair into a ponytail and takes his hand.

“Indeed,” he laughs. Thankfully, he’s found ways around that after more than a few dances with men in his past. “What I was going to say was that since you did the asking, you’d be the one to lead. So you be you, and I’ll be Melody.”

“Oh, Dad,” she scoffs, her eyebrows shooting upwards. “That is really gross. On about every conceivable level, that is gross.”

“Just for tonight, little love,” he reminds her. “Now, that means your hand goes on her back…” He directs her hand as such. “And her hand will be on your waist.” He does so as well, bending down to meet her height. Hope is gifted in many things, but height was not one of them. In fact, he’s fairly certain Melody is a head taller than her. That should be interesting. Normally Hope would be laughing at him, but now her brow is furrowed and her jaw set as she concentrates. It’s a little surprising; he of course knows how bad Hope’s crush on Melody was, but he never thought it would be more than a schoolgirl fling. Yet with how seriously she’s taking this, it might just be. “Now you find the rhythm, Cygnet, and you guide me.”

“Find the rhythm?” she echoes sceptically. “I don’t think the rhythm likes me very much.”

“Trust your gut, Hope,” he tells her firmly. “No matter what else, you’re a pirate. You’ll find it.” Hope closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and begins moving, taking them in a slightly jerky and awkward dance around the kitchen.

“Sorry,” she winces. “That was your foot.”

“It’s okay love, keep going,” he says, watching her count the steps in her head. “Hope you know you will also have to look at her at some point, right?”

“I have to do what now?” she asks. But she lifts her eyes to his, identical to her mother’s and grandmother’s, and filled with uncertainty. While she still stumbles and missteps, she’s better than she was before; her movements more smooth and even though there’s a lack of confidence, she counts out loud less. She even manages to spin him out and under her arm, even if she has to stand on her toes. “Is this good?”

“This is great,” he tells her. “You’re getting the hang of this.”

“I hope so,” she says, her smile falling.

“Hope?” he asks, hair pricking up on the back of his neck.

“I’m fine,” she says, even if her face says otherwise. “Just… this is kind of our first date. I want it to go well.”

“And it will,” he says firmly. “One thing I’ve learned, Cygnet, is that it’s not the night you spend, it’s the people you spend it with.” Hope smiles, softer now. It’s times like this he allows himself to think he’s doing good here. “I’ve spent some lovely nights with the most dreadfully boring people, and some chaotic and wild ones with the most amazing person imaginable.”

“That better mean me,” a voice comes from the doorway. While it does make them both jump, he’s put at ease in the next second. Emma leans against the door, exactly the same way Hope did, a smirk on her face and her hair wet from the rain outside. “Otherwise we may have some problems on our hands.”

“Who else would I mean, love?” he asks. She strolls into the kitchen, shaking her head in amusement.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” Emma says, gesturing to the two of them. “That was cute, what you two were doing.”

"Dance lessons," he explains. She nods, stepping back with amusement on her face, particularly when she looks at Hope.

“Actually,” Hope begins, a gleam in her eyes. “I have a better idea.” She lets go of Killian and runs to Emma instead, pulling her onto their makeshift dancefloor. When she pulls Emma towards him, it’s obvious to anyone what she’s planning. “You two do it.”

“Not that I’m complaining,” Emma says, her voice soft and laced with laughter. “But what is this accomplishing, kid?”

“I learn better by watching,” she explains, sitting up on the counter and holding her phone. Normally he’d scold her for sitting on the counter, but with her smile and the pleasant air about their kitchen, it feels a shame to break it. Killian shares a look with Emma, both aware that her reasoning is flimsy at best, but neither one of them has it in them to say no.

“What do you say?” Emma asks, grinning and holding out her hand. “You want to show the amateur how it’s done?”

“Nothing I’d love more,” he tells her, pulling her close and listening to her laughing. He twirls her around the kitchen, slightly aware of Hope capturing the moment on her phone, Emma’s blonde hair flying and her laughter getting harder as he dips her. Emma’s not a perfect dancer by any means, but she is the perfect partner. Less elegant and poised, more rough and reckless, but beautiful and brilliant all the same. He’s equally as charmed by her now as he was in Midas’ castle.

And if Hope captivates her date in the same way, which she will, then she has nothing her worry about at all.

#ouat ff #captain cygnet #killian jones #hope swan jones #captain swan #emma swan #ouat #i came up with this idea 2 years ago and finally wrote it bc i didn't want to study *dances*

19 notes · View notes

insomniac-dot-ink · 6 years ago

Text

Paper Girl

Genre: wlw, mystery, slice of life urban fantasy

Words: 25k

Summary: A paper girl, a wealthy neighborhood, and a strange house. Seiko Toyomi starts her job at the crack of dawn and then does her sleeping on the morning bus, in between she interacts with a strange young girl that never seems to leave her house.

Seiko unexpectedly starts to befriend the girl and begins to wonder more and more: who is she? Why does no one know her? And is she trapped?

A love story of newspapers, front porches, and growing up together

Ko-Fi ⭐Patreon ⭐ WordPress⭐Twitter ⭐ Wattpad ⭐ Ao3

There was a house up on Townsend Street. A house with wedding-cake frosting trims and big white oak doors, a massive yard with room for three dogs but no dog in sight. It had a blue-grey exterior and thick green hedges perfectly trimmed in a square around the whole property. White daffodils bloomed in the numerous flower boxes and kaleidoscope bird feeders hung from the porch. The type of bird feeders even thieving squirrels looked at and said: no way guys, we can’t touch those ones.

A proper wrought iron fence hugged the hedges, dark, with ornate swoops and swirls at each bend, opening only once at an enormous double-gate. It was also dark iron and more decorative than practical, filled with large gaps and flowery designs, like out of some sort of story book. Seiko called it the ‘fairy gate’ in her head, holding her breath and crossing her fingers as she walked under the arch each time.

Everything was big there, big and quiet and filled with a hushed kind of luxury, it didn’t announce itself, but it was a living heartbeat that strangled everything else with it.

It was that type of street. A street with no cracks in the smooth grey sidewalks and cars with wax finishes and busybody mothers that yelled at her when she accidently walked on a lawn. Seiko didn’t mean to walk on the grass, she promised Mrs. Hankla it was only once and only since she was in a bit of a hurry.

They called the enclave ‘Greenbriar Hill’ and the other delivery kids were jealous she was assigned there, nobody else got tips like her. But nobody else had to deal with the wedding-cake house either.

They didn’t have to deal with the young girl in the neat frilly pajamas and face that scrunched up like an upset paper bag, watching Seiko with an exacting spotlight gaze.

The girl waited outside the big white oak doors every morning like one of those dogs that fetched the paper for you, but not the doting golden retriever type. More like a trimmed poodle, with it’s curls primped and perfumed with utmost care before it was walked. Or squatted next to a fire hydrant.

She looked around Seiko’s age, no more than 11, standing outside each morning in pink fluffy pajamas that fell past her knees and a pressed white bow. Her thick blonde hair was carefully curled and hung just above her shoulder tops, loose corkscrew curls that bounced when she moved. She had dark eyes the color of royal blue ink or sunless ocean waters, dark and ready to storm.

She had pinched cheeks and a little mouth, making her eyes seem even bigger on her small face and delicate features. Most strikingly was how pale she was, pale as unmarked parchment or bleached bone, like the dry skeleton of a hare Seiko saw once on a trip to Arizona: bare and stripped, a little chilling.

She was as pale as burnt ash and almost as worrying, like a sickly victorian child you thought to give cough syrup to. Or holy water.

Seiko wasn’t expecting to see anyone her age outside this early, the sun was barely up and Seiko’s arms were goose-fleshing from the chilly breeze. She had worn her short-sleeve Lego Batman t-shirt for her first day, making sure everyone saw it at least once since she spent her allowance and then some on the thing.

And now she was sitting on her bike in someone’s huge driveway with a little girl in pink staring fiercely back at her lego-shirt and shivering arms.

The girl glanced down at a leather wristwatch as if Seiko was late, what kind of kid had a leather wristwatch? Seiko plucked a newspaper out from her sack and hopped gingerly forward.

“Good morning miss,” that sounded like the right thing to say. She smiled, “It’s gonna be a beautiful day.” The girl reached out and snatched the newspaper from Seiko’s hands, “it’s going to rain.” She said flatly back and her blonde curls danced in place. “You’re new. What’s your name?” Seiko blinked a couple times, taken back. “Seiko. Seiko Toyomi, nice to meet you?” She wasn’t sure if she should put her hand out to shake, like a sales transaction or charged mob-boss greeting like she saw in movies.

“Well, Seiko,” the girl said tartly, “don’t leave the gate open next time, it’s a hazard.” Seiko’s eyes went huge and she frowned, “It’s my first day.” The girl arched her eyebrows pointedly over at the end of the lawn and Seiko followed her gaze, she had, indeed, left the gate open behind her. Seiko had a few snappy words trapped behind her tongue about the girl’s attitude.

“Annalise!” A voice called from inside the house, “Annalise! Did you get it?” “Yes mom,” the girl turned around, only sparing one last look behind her. “Don’t forget the gate. And,” she paused, “thank you for the paper.” She said stiffly. “Here.” She handed Seiko her tip and it all felt like some sort of dream Seiko was walking through, with rich girls in sleeping wear sliding her balled up five dollar bills from her tight fists. She half-expected to see a large white swan walk out from behind the bushes to grant her wishes.

“Thanks,” Seiko piped up, blinking. “Have a nice day.” The girl, Annalise, just waved and shut the door behind her. “Don’t forget about the rain.” Seiko turned around to hide her eye-roll and jumped back on her bike, maybe money could buy giant yards and fancy bikes with more than one speed. But apparently it couldn’t buy manners. It did rain that day though, and every day after.

Seiko remembered it vividly, like an omen.

—————–

Seiko got up at 5:45am, just like her mom instructed, bolting upright with the first beep of her alarm clock and jumping into her sneakers. She had slept in her jeans and fuzzy orange sweater, her mom didn’t know about that part.

But it was Seiko’s second day of work and she wasn’t going to mess it up, she already got briefly yelled at for knocking over someone’s lawn gnome and delivering someone’s paper bent in half. Most people smiled and waved and handed her a dollar or two, but those two other encounters stuck in her mind like a sharpened pencil. It wouldn’t happen again.

The apartment was dark and soundless at that hour, almost seeming taboo, Seiko was careful to walk heel-toe down the hall and only turn on one light. She ended up stuffing a single piece of bread in her mouth and then hurrying out the door, groggy and wired as a dorm room outlet. She left ten minutes earlier than she needed to, whirring over Mr. Simmons shop and grinning from ear to ear the whole way on her bike.

Rogers, Illinois was a small town, small enough that people liked their papers hand-delivered and Mr. Simmons was old-fashioned and idyllic enough to hire kids to do it. It built character he said, tightened the community, somehow was unquestioned under ‘child labor laws.’ That sort of thing.

Seiko skidded to a halt in front of the corner shop, waving, “Hey Mr. Simmons!” She put her hand out, “Here for the Greenbriar route.” Mr. Simmons was out front moving boxes and fastening shut large sacks, bulging with rolled up papers. They were white with one thick strap for your shoulder and the words ‘Local Business Proud’ printed on the side.

Mr. Simmons handed her the far one, “Remember we’re having a pizza party this Friday,” he sounded properly awake and bright, “It’ll be the first one for the whole team.” Mr. Simmons was young, still graying around the temples and nearly blind in one eye, a traditionalist in the sense of people who forget what tradition is.

“Thanks Mr. Simmons, I’ll remember,” she grinned and waved, kicking off from the curb. “See you!” She streaked away, ready to prove herself in all her 10-year-old glory and with the energy of a newly-broken glow stick.

She pedaled hard, making little grunts as she pushed herself up the hill to Greenbriar, sweating despite the sweet fall chill in the air. The neighborhood was graveyard-still when she arrived, cold and blurry-eyed. She grinned, reaching two-story sprawling houses and carefully placing papers face-up in their slim plastic bags, like neatly wrapped Christmas morning presents.

She didn’t knock over any lawn gnomes this time.

Seiko was breathing hard, but in a good way, in the way that made her feel like she just answered a question right in class or did a perfect high-five. The wedding-cake house was in the middle house of her route, slightly removed from the other ones. Seiko closed the gate quickly behind her when she arrived and latched it tightly just in case.

It was earlier this time, no hint of sun on the horizon under the lumpy morning clouds and no sound of bird calls at all. The girl in pink pajamas was waiting for her.

Seiko waved, “I closed the gate!” She sang and jumped off her bike to hurry forward, “I’m even early.” Annalise looked her up and down and then nodded, just as pale and otherworldly as before. “Good.” Annalise put her hand out, “the other boy always used to forget anyway.” Seiko picked her way up the driveway, she smiled amiably. “Hey, do you go to Bristol Elementary school? Or Canyon Creek? I bet it’s Canyon.” The girl frowned at her, wiggling her fingers in midair for the paper, “Seiko Toyomi,” she sounded like she was prying the name off a burning skillet. “You go to Bristol.” Seiko nodded quickly, “Yeah, Bristol, how do you know that? Do you go there?” She hopped up and down, then stopped with a frown, “Probably not.” She would have seen her in the school halls if she did.

“Put rain boots on tomorrow,” Annalise fluffed her curling hair, “It will be worse.” She took the paper from her briskly. “Thank you for your service.” She handed her another large bill.

Seiko was still staring at her as she closed the door and another voice called as before, “Anna, dear, bring the tea over too.”

“Coming!” What kind of girl was this?

Seiko pulled her hood up as it began to drizzle, turning away and putting the oddness of it out of sight and out of mind. She slept on the bus on her way to school that morning and dreamt of poodles eating her bike tires and barking at her.

—————

The entire week continued like that: Seiko pedaling her heart out and trying to prove herself to some unknown entity that judged ten-year-olds on their job performance. Biking, delivering, and having snatches of conversation with early-waking exercise nuts, bathrobe-fathers with bags under their eyes, and old people ready to complain about the morning’s headlines.

And the girl. The strange girl.

She was chastising and brisk, reminding Seiko of the crabby middle-aged manager at the local CVS who always yelled at Seiko for picking up half the candy section and then only ever buying one. She reminded her of the blonde news-anchor lady who was always angry at the local politicians. She reminded her of someone who definitely had never seen the Lego Batman movie and never would.

Seiko only found out a little more about the sharp and secretive girl on the last day of the week: the friday pizza party. It stopped raining that day.

—-

“Does she have like, warts on her hands?”

“Or blood on the doorframe? For warding off the evil eye or something.”

“Tell me she has a raven that caws at you when you enter.”

“Why would I go inside?” Seiko pushed away the face of a bug-eyed boy with too many freckles and a whistle when he talked through the gap in his teeth. The other kid’s crowded around her in turn.

“Does she have roses in her garden?” A mousy girl with straight black hair and the voice of a tiny cricket asked her a little dreamily. “That never wilt or die. I bet they’re beautiful.”

“Tell me her mother tips you in crystals or astrology calendars or something.” June, a bright-eyed redhead, contributed excitably. “I’ve never seen the mom,” Seiko shook her head, “Only the daughter. And they don’t have roses.” Katy, the mousy girl, wilted at that. Katy was slightly chubby, stout, and skittish, always looking ready to apologize or sink into the floor like a self-effacing puddle.

Bobby Isler, the bug-eyed boy, frowned “Or blood?” “Or blood.” “Aww,” June slumped down, vivid red ponytail bobbying in place, she was a tall girl in baggy overalls and chipped fingernails each painted a different color. She grumbled, “That’s so lame.” She poked her pizza with one finger. “Are you even looking?” Seiko rolled her eyes and took a bite of her own luke-warm pepperoni pizza, Mr. Simmons had left them alone to ‘enjoy themselves’ as he explained with a wink. He thought they were talking about crushes or weed or whatever he assumed kids talk about.

They were not talking about weed.

“It’s not like that. It’s normal. Ish,” she looked away and scratched her nose, “Why are you all so interested in it? She’s seriously not a witch.”

Bobby poked her, “Nuh-uh. Don’t you watch channel 7?” He squinted at her, “How out of the loop are you?” They all stare at her, Seiko jutted her jaw out fiercely, “Me? You’re the ones,” she huffed, “you’re the ones who are losing it. She’s just a lady and her snooty daughter.” “I didn’t know she had a daughter,” Katy said slowly. “She never mentions it. That’s nice to know though.” Seiko blew stray dark hairs out of her eyes, she had cut it short for the new school year and immediately regretted it. It kept getting in her face.

“Yeah, well, she does. And she’s bratty,” she sniffed loudly, “and we don’t get channel 7, my mom says it’s rubbish.” “Rubbish,” June repeated, rolling the word around in her mouth and rubbing her nose, “are you doing that phony British accent again?” Seiko’s cheeks flushed red, June was in her fifth grade class and she had a long memory. Seiko looked away and took a huge bite of her pizza, “That was only for a little! SO long ago June.” June snickered and looked at the others, “she pretended to have British accent for all of 4th grade, and not even a good one.” “It was only for a month!” Seiko retorted sharply, “barely three weeks.” June laughed again, “it was the worst.” Bobby laughed loudly and Katy looked away politely, like this was some embarrassing family affair where the aunt took her shoes off and threw them at your rotten Uncle Shou for smoking and tipping the pretty waitress too much.

Katy cleared her throat, “She’s the only psychic in town, I watch her every night.” She met Seiko’s eyes, “I’m going to get my love line read by her.” She nodded astutely, like it was set in stone and the only obvious path ahead. Katy was also the oldest of them, just turned 13, and that made an impression in Seiko’s head.

Or at least, it had. She wrinkled her nose, “Love line?” She snorted, “That’s all bogus, she’s just a rich lady who reads off a teleprompter.” She shook her head, “That’s what my mom says.” Her mom had a lot of opinions.

“No way,” June crossed her arms over her chest, “She’s the real deal. She did Macy’s moms fortune on LIVE TELEVISION, she talked about future death in the family and Macy’s grandpa died the next week! She’s the real deal.” Madame Catherine Lynne (or just Madame Lynne) was a local television personality who told people’s fortune on channel seven, several small-town legends had sprung up around her since. With her huge glasses, elbow-length gloves, long evening gowns and deep resounding voice, they called her everything from a genuine black-magic witch to an elaborate hack.

“I just deliver her papers,” Seiko grumbled into her soda, “I didn’t even know that was her house.” Which was true, it was just another fancy house in a row of fancy houses.

“Well, that’s our favorite space case for you,” June reached for Seiko to give her one of her signature noogie’s.

Seiko pushed her way, “And our favorite terrible busy-body.” They exchanged a number of kicks under the table until Katy put her hands down, “Let me know if you see the Madame.” She said in a small but firm voice, “Ask her if she’s gotten letters from a Katy Mendoza. I’ve been,” she struggled, face blooming red as she realized they were all staring at her now. “I’ve been writing…” She ended weakly.

Seiko frowned, there was so much earnestness in the other girl’s face, almost desperate. Seiko puffed her chest out, “I will, I promise.”

They all sat back in their chairs and Seiko stifled a yawn as the music of the pizza parlour swelled. She was ready to leave by then, still tired from waking up at around 5am all week- her father joked about how this is what it felt like being a real worker. She’s not sure she wanted it.

Seiko sucked on her soda until only the grating sound of ice and backwash was left. She spoke up again after a long moment, “Do any of you know if an Annalise Lynne goes to Canyon Creek? That’s the daughter.” They all just exchanged blank looks with each other, Bobby was the first to shrug, “Like I said, I didn’t even know she had a daughter.” Seiko frowned at that, but June sighed exaggeratedly, “I bet she goes to some fancy private school.” She waved her hand in the air, eyes drifting down, “Did you get a new sticker on your bag Seiko?” She changed the subject, “Do you even know who Daft Punk is?”

Seiko turned on her, “Of course I do, and for your information…” The night continued on, bickering and talking and listening to cheesy pizza parlour tunes.

Seiko never found out where Annalise went to school, or if she went to school at all.

——————–

She looks so lonely.

Another blurry, creeping day hit Seiko with long grasping fingers, yanking her out of bed with a groan. She rubbed her eyes, trying to fight through the thin spiderwebs criss-crossing her headspace as she lumbered around the apartment at 5 in the morning.

The first week of Seiko’s new job slipped quickly by and by the second and third she was getting tired, more tired than she thought she could be.

Her dad, once again, told her that ‘this is what being a real working person felt like.’ The joke was getting old. She barely remembered leaving the house and getting to the corner shop, it was all getting old.

Seiko drove her boke dutifully up the hill to Greenbriar, the weather had been getting cooler with each week as Illinois winter bore down, but that day was the exception. It was going to erratically climb up into the high 60s and shine all day, but that was weather for you.

Seiko was barely cognate of her regular route, pedal, place, pedal, wave, accept two dollars, keep going. She didn’t think it would become so rote so fast, but it was just as mindless as her friend Kingsley warned.

He was always warning her about something though, she’d call it a downright nervous disorder if the spirit of one of her auntie’s wouldn’t materialize and pinch her cheek with a ‘be nice Seiko’ from beyond the grave.

She could be nice.

It was on that particularly warm fall day that Seiko was struck with a strange thought, a sticky hard thought that that caught in her mind like a thorn. She approached the wedding-cake house with the girl perched outside like an ever present stone guardian.

She looks so lonely.

It echoed within her.

Seiko wouldn’t call herself particularly perceptive, but that didn’t stop her from looking the girl up and down. She made a stunning pale silhouette against the enormous house with the air of an-fashioned heroine waiting for her family to return from the war.

It’s all so lonely.

Seiko shook her head vigorously, she’s a rich, pretty girl, she’ll be more than fine.

Seiko took the paper out immediately and shuffled up to the house, “Hiya,” she spoke up, remembering herself. “Good morning.”

Annalise’s brow knit together, “good morning.” Seiko shifted from foot to foot, holding the paper aloft. There was another thing she was working up to, maybe this was the right moment. Seiko could be nice. And maybe Annalise would like the conversation.

“So,” she cleared her throat, shifting from side to side. “I have thing.”

Annalise arched an eyebrow up, “What thing?” She asked testily, “Did you rip the paper?”

“No!” Seiko lifted her chin up proudly, “It’s not about papers. I was just wondering,” she took a deep breath in, deciding to do this now. “Have you seen any letters from a Katy Mendoza?” “Who?” Annalise took a step back, wary and eyeing her.

“Katy Mendoza. She writes you letters, I mean, she writes your mom.” She felt the sting of awkwardness rubbing against her skin. Annalise was looking at her like she was growing another head- and that head was ugly. This was a bad idea.

Annalise’s sharp blue eyes penetrated her like a swear word in church: echoing and harsh. Annalise cleared her throat, “We get many letters.”

“She’s my friend,” Seiko went on, “She wants to have her love line read. She’s into that sort of thing, she’s thinks she’ll never find love or something and that Madame Lynne, your mom, can help I guess.” Annalise was still frowning, as if perplexed by a certain math problem or stubborn weed. She put her hand out for the paper, Seiko reluctantly handed it over, wilting in place. That hadn’t gone well.

“Thank you for the paper,” Annalise handed her five dollars. “Have a good day.” Seiko wanted to bury her face in the perfectly manicured grass, what was I thinking? She doesn’t even want to talk to me in general, much less do favors.

Seiko turned to flee to her bike and pedal until her thighs burned away her own fumbling mouth and unnecessary probing.

“And Seiko,” Seiko stopped in place, Annalise hadn’t closed the door yet, voice chasing her. “I will look for your friend’s letter. I won’t forget.” She said, voice measured and whispery. She closed the door swiftly afterward, before Seiko could add anything else.

“Thanks,” Seiko stared blankly back at the large white oak doors and latched golden handles.

Sometimes she thought she saw Annalise watching her from the second story window, stony and frozen in place, hand gently touching the window and following her. Other times she thought it was just her brain conjuring up tales in her head, the type with snow queen’s daughters and fairy gates.

She rode her bicycle away, this whole place is lonely.

The empty lawns and gated homes and featureless driveways go on and on and Seiko wished for a moment she wasn’t a working girl, that she was still in bed waiting for the morning to come.

——————

Life went on.

She was graduating fifth grade that year and it couldn’t have felt like a bigger deal, would she follow her friends to Bristol Middle School or go to the local charter school, Elmswood?

Elmswood had a better reputation, bigger cafeteria, and a soccer team who actually made to the state championships. Then of course some Chicago school would immediately bump them out of state championships, but they still made it all the same.

Seiko wasn’t very good at sticking to sports, or hobbies for that matter, but she was pretty excited for soccer this year. The early-morning biking helped her stamina and game play, the fact she couldn’t actually kick the ball in any desired direction did not.

But Liza Mayweather was captain of the team and she was 5 feet 5 inches of the ‘coolest girl’ Seiko knew. Liza was going to Elmswood.

But then Seiko would have to leave Kingsley, her best friend since kindergarten. They met on the first day, traded chocolate puddings, chased a bouncy ball around for two hours straight together, and had been inseparable ever since. It was a hard choice and wasn’t getting any easier.

Seiko kept her paper route, even as the weather turned for the worse and she already had enough money saved up to buy at the very least a second hand Switch. However, things in the neighbor simply became more and more habitual, familiar.

The people in the brown house had a Saint Bernard named Nooky who was possibly the best creature ever, he gave a world ending ‘boof’ whenever he saw her and Seiko’s heart soared. Mrs. Hankla let her pet him some days.

Several of the houses had outdoor cats who appeared on high fences, fancy-feast enthusiasts who would eye you from afar and daintily get closer and closer each week. She named the white one ‘General Sour Cream’ and the calico one ‘Grand Duchess Granola.’ They were in love.

Less people jogged in the winter, more people greeted her with sleep-crusted eyes and a quick ‘are you alright sweetheart?’

Two different people offered her new gloves to wear. She already had gloves.

Seiko learned about the girl too.

Annalise changed from her pink pajamas to a loose long-sleeved top and soft matching black bottoms. She liked tea, because of course she did, she didn’t like the neighbors mowing their lawns, she liked Seiko’s rainbow fingerless gloves. Or at least, Seiko hoped she did since Annalise kept glancing at them.

Annalise could play the piano, she got headaches easily, and thought anyone who woke up past eight O’Clock had simply already given up on life. She knew name brands, hated fast-fashion, and ran her own ‘Plastic Reduction’ eco-education home page. She gave Seiko a sticker for it.

And that was it.

Seiko assumed there wasn’t anything more to it, and then it was February.

————

Snow fell in wallops of sticky cold droplets that hit unwitting citizens like frigid water balloons from above, half-ice and half-slushy it might as well have been the devil pissing on them. That’s what one of the older kids said on the bus yesterday when it first started.

Seiko repeated it to Kingsley who joined her in giggling into their hands like they said it themselves.

Seiko expected school to be closed the next day, she expected the roads to be shut down and people to be banned from the outdoors like some sort of dangerous zoo enclosure. She expected to drink hot chocolate in bed and watch youtube videos of ‘how it’s made’ all day.

Her alarm rang at 5:45 am anyway. The people needed their news, they needed that fresh headline: It’s Cold as a Witch’s teat in a Brass Bra. Seiko had learned that one on the bus too.

She hadn’t missed a day of work so far and she, for reasons beyond herself, wasn’t going to start now. Her uncle had bought her new boots for her birthday: fur-trimmed with little puff-balls at the end of the shoelaces, he told her to break them in nice and easy. This would have to be the ‘mean and hard’ way instead.

She put on two pairs of socks underneath and went to the doorway.

She stuffed on her oversized ewok hat, a joke-present she got before she turned 11 and too old for that sort of thing. But it was as thick as siberian’s arm hair and the little ears made her feel a little bolder in the furious white morning.

“Where are you going Seiko?” Her mom was also up at 5am, always claiming to be busy with Seiko’s little sister Rei at this hour, but Rei was 2 by then and barely up any more. Their dad swore their mom had insomnia, but her mom would be in her grave before she admitted to that sort of thing.

She looked at Seiko’s fluffy hat and pretended to be busy folding kitchen rags.

“Work mom,” she adjusted her hat and found a large fleece scarf to wrap around her neck.

Her mom sniffed, “Don’t ride your bike.” “I can’t,” Seiko blinked with a grumble, “Too bad out.” “And don’t talk to strangers.” “When do I ever talk to strangers mom?” Seiko retorted with a yawn and a prickle behind her words.

Her mom patted her shoulder, “I’m making leftovers for breakfast. Take a hot shower when you’re back, school isn’t canceled.” “I knoooow,” she moaned and went for the door. “And don’t move my backpack. I got stuff in there and I keep not being able to find it.” “Then don’t leave it where I can kick it.” “Ugh,” she made a face, “bye mom.”

Seiko left before they could get into one of their regular squabbles, the weather didn’t help since Seiko always felt like they were living on top of each other when they got snowed-in. Her family’s apartment was fine, everything worked and the pipes never froze, but it was… tight. It had three rooms, one bathroom, and a tucked away kitchen with no oven. But it was fine, it had a carpet that didn’t static and an outside not completely overcome by hobos or nettles.

It was on the second story of a red-brick apartment building that had a bent TV dish outside and rusty skateboards piling up on the side. The building’s heating worked most the time and the air conditioning worked some of the time.

Between the weeds growing up between cracks and the convenience store that sold cigarettes to anyone not carrying a pacifier, it was fine, everything was fine. Walking over to Greenbriar on the other hand though was crossing between ‘fine’ to the ‘fairygate.’

Seiko collected her wares at the corner shop, Mr. Simmons applauded her for coming in at all and handed her two hot packs for her hands. She didn’t say much back, she didn’t know why she was there either.

She skimmed the paper’s headline: It’s Cold. So Cold, Father Winter is Definitely Passing a Particularly Frigid Gallstone Over Us. Seiko traveled slowly into the fairy hills, covered in powdery white sugar and untouched by the bustling of other determined worker ants, blithely ignoring the coming slush and grime of the town’s roads and sidewalks.

Seiko trudged onward. She forgot her hands, her feet, and everything else in between as she walked, shivered, and delivered.

——

“Attagirl,” Mr. Busby of the brown house and fake teeth handed her a five. He had never done that before. “Good see the youth off their phones and actually doing something.” Seiko just nodded in response and mutely moved to the next house. The street wound on in a dusty blaring-white monotony, almost no one was up to greet her as she placed one plastic-wrapped paper down after the next.

She wasn’t at all surprised to find Annalise Lynne outside when she reached the wedding-cake house. Strangely though, the other girl wasn’t in her usual position next to the door, safe and dry with the usual impassive look on her face.

Seiko’s eyebrows rose, Annalise was bent over the edge of her concrete porch, squinting out at her snowy domain. She had pink boots stuffed over her feet and a yellow umbrella shielding her from the onslaught of slushy snow from up above.

She was bundled up underneath the umbrella and looking nervously at the ground, lips pinched together and expression shadowed, whole body as tense as a stretched rubber band.

Seiko tilted her head to the side, pausing for a long second. Annalise shifted in place, worry-lines permeating her young face.

“Uh,” Seiko hurried up the girl’s vast driveway, “How’s it going Annalise?” Her voice sounded rusted and stiff to her own ears as she asked.

Annalise blinked up, her expression noticeably strained. “Nothing,” she murmured quietly and then looked back to the snowbanks, clutching the umbrella. She glanced up unseeingly, “You must be cold.” Seiko furrowed her brow, “Yeah.” She scratched her chin, “It’s cold.” Seiko just nodded, sniffing slightly, “The last boy would never come in weather like this.” Her gaze was still trained away from her. “Thank you for your service.” Whenever she said that Seiko felt like a war veteran being thanked at an airport by a white woman who bought in bulk from costco. She just nodded again.

“Is… everything okay? Do you need,” Seiko searched the ground, “Help?” She offered weakly since it seemed like the thing to do.

Annalise finally looked up again, “I’m capable of handling it,” she clutched the umbrella and reached absently up to her ear. There was a small empty hole there. She frowned, “But…” She met her eyes briefly, “if you see a blue diamond earring then, well,” she bit her lip, “let me know.” Seiko journeyed the little way up to the side of the porch, the overhang finally protecting her from the soggy snowfall. “Blue earring?” Annalise nodded shallowly, barely tilting her head down, “it looks like a snowdrop.” Her hands bleached on the umbrella handle, “and my mom’s going to freaking kill me for losing it.” Seiko stood up straight at that statement, the words strangely out of place and striking. My mom’s going to freaking kill me. What?

“Hey, watch my papers,” Seiko pushed her pack toward the dry doorway. “I once found my sister’s binky in a playground ball pit.”

Annalise looked up sharply, “Seiko Toyomi, I can’t,” she said quickly, “I can’t ask you to do that.”

Seiko made a face at her, “You can just call me Seiko,” she wrinkled her nose, “and it’s not a big deal, honest. Did you lose it around here?” Annalise looked away, cheeks burning a bland red, like her face wasn’t accustomed to any color at all. “Maybe…” She said slowly, “Last night I went out here to look at the snowfall and,” She said haltingly and felt at her ear, “When I woke up this morning I realized I didn’t have one of my earrings. Ugh.” She growled in the back of her throat, “Stupid, stupid. She’ll be so mad.” Seiko cocked her eyebrows up, “When does your mom normally wake up?” Annalise frowned, “She had a late show last night,” her shoulders relaxed, “So she’ll be out for at least a little longer, maybe even 7:30.” Seiko smiled, “Alright!” She hopped into the nearest snow pile, sinking into the layering ice and sleet. “Let’s get looking.” Annalise watched her carefully, “… Thank you.” She spoke softly, clearly, searching Seiko’s face for a moment before nodding, “Check by the flower bed.” Annalise leaned off the stoop and pointed, “It would be somewhere close to the bottom.” Seiko got to work sifting through the piles of wet slush, her gloves soaking through and eyes straining against the pure white mass. “Are you sure it fell here?” “No,” Annalise pointed to her right, “check over there.” They hurried, Annalise pointing and Seiko kicking and churning her way around the yard.

“No, no, not there, that’s too far,” Annalise huffed after several minutes, breath coming out in puffy little clouds. She stood up in place, “This will take too long. One second, wait here.” Seiko looked up brightly, “What?” She cocked an eyebrow up at her, “Also, for the record, I’m doing this to be nice. Friendly. Polite, stop glaring at me.” “I’m not glaring,” Annalise snapped and looked to the door, “I’m just… frustrated.” She scuffed her boot on the ground and then looked back up, “I’m going to help. One second.” “Okay?” Seiko had figured Annalise was too delicate or soft or perfectly-moisturized to wade into the clingy snow with her and help dig. That’s what you hired paper girls for.

Annalise tossed her umbrella aside and swung open her house door, Seiko peaked into the dim foyer: huge and holding a grand staircase. Seiko just blinked at it as the other girl ran back inside.

Seiko told herself she was just being nice. It was the right thing to do. She wasn’t here to be a looky loo, especially since her mother would never let her live it down if she was. They weren’t the type of family to get fascinated by pop stars or celebrities or late night TV show psychics.

Or their strange daughters.

Seiko stood in the bitter wind, shivering slightly and glancing at her undelivered papers. They were all definitely late.

But maybe the neighbors would forgive her for a snow-storm delay.

Seiko watched the family’s big doors for another minute, waiting for something. Did Annalise abandon her to the cold and needle-in-a-haystack quest? Should she leave?

Just as she was thinking about getting her pack and being on her way, Annalise strode calmly back outside. Seiko stopped in place as she did, “Oh my God.”

Annalise lifted her chin with a sniff. “Don’t laugh.”

Annalise was wearing what looked like a plastic beekeepers helmet, yellow cleaning gloves secured by rubber bands, two winter coats covered by a teal rain jacket, and what looked like shiny waterproof ski pants. She even wore plastic bags over her winter boots- also secured by rubber bands.

Seiko ended up covering her mouth and snickering.

Annalise’s face glowed red, “I don’t like getting wet!”

Seiko laughed into her hands, “No, no, I get it.” She giggled, “It’s just… okay.” Annalise put her hands on her hips, “Are you here to help or make fun of me?” Seiko gave a cheeky grin, “Can I do both? Because… that’s a bee helmet.” Annalise tilted her chin up with a frown, “No, we’re not that familiar yet.” Seiko shrugged and bent down again, “How familiar does a newspaper girl and her house-deliverees have to be?”

“Well I’ll tell you when we’re there, then you can laugh I suppose.” Annalise shuffled forward, weighed down by her various clothes. “Though your assistance will be noted.” Seiko shrugged, “Don’t mention it.” Annalise teetered on the edge of her porch, looked closely at all the snow, like it was a freezing lake she was preparing herself to jump buck-naked into. Seiko gave her a funny look, “Are you waiting for something?” Annalise shot her an unreadable glance, unnervingly blank. Then she widened her stance, took a deep breath, exhaled, and did a short flailing hop into the snow.

She landed, hands out and eyes screwed shut, whole body star-fished out as if to keep everything away. She opened her eyes slowly.

“Oh,” she shivered and then turned around in a tight circle, kicking a nearby pile of snow, “Oh!”

Seiko knit her brow together, Annalise expression had opened up into a strange erratic joy- fascinated by the mounds of white fluff. “Oh this is very good.”

“Yes?” Seiko watched Annalise gawk and poke at the piles, picking up a handful of the stuff and throwing it in the air. “Look at that!” It fell in lumps down and she beamed, kicking another pile over.

Seiko waited for a while before clearing her throat. “Um,” she looked around, “Are you not allowed to play in the snow?” She had a weird feeling about the answer.

Annalise’s guarded eyes flicked in her direction, she straightened up. “I just… don’t do it often.” She bent down again like a robot given a sudden direction, “Alright, where have you already searched?”

Seiko pointed to several locations around the porch and they got to work again, pointing and guessing and carefully searching. The snowfall slowly dwindled, turning from fat wet balls into tiny dandelion fluffs. Faint rays of sun finally broke out into a sleek grey morning, weak and barely there like the wheezing breaths of a forgotten old man.

Seiko was starting to get a headache from the glare of the endless white, she finally sat back on her haunches and turned to the other girl. “What will happen if you don’t find it?” Annalise froze mid-sift, eyes cast down, “my mom,” she clenched her teeth, “will be really pissed.” “Oh,” Seiko could only guess at what that meant for her. Grounding? Pony privileges revoked? A dungeon? Who knew.

“They were for my birthday,” she continued bitterly, “she was so excited to give them to me. Said it was some milestone.” Annalise shook her head, “Goddammit.” Seiko giggled at that.

“What?” Annalise glanced at her. “What is it?” “Nothing,” Seiko kept running her fingers through the layers, “it’s just, you know, you don’t seem like the type to curse.” She snorted, “Too prim.” Annalise paused at that, giving Seiko a hard long look. Then, she drew herself up, standing tall, squaring her shoulders, and making herself big and solid. She held Seiko’s gaze as a lion would before jumping through a fiery hoop. “FUCK.” Seiko burst into a side-splitting laugh, rich and spilling out her from her insides like a warm river, she held her sides and rolled back in the snow, “Oh my god.” “Shit!”

“No wait,” she laughed, “stop.” “Bastard baby idiot!”

Seiko waved her hand through the air, “You’ve proved it, you’ve proved it.” Seiko wiped at her eyes and couldn’t miss the pleased smile crossing Annalise’s face, terribly satisfied with itself.

“Well. Now you know.” She flattened down her bloated jacket like it was a fine party dress. Seiko couldn’t stop laughing, she turned over in place. “You showed me. I’ve learned a lot today.” Annalise hummed and looked her over, “you’re a strange girl.” “Me?” Seiko’s face lit up and she kept snickering, “Me?” “Yes,” Annalise delicately picked through some more snow. “All… those outfits you wear and bike riding. You go so fast, where is your helmet?” “You sound like my mom,” Seiko grumbled, but she was still smiling. “You’re the one who lives in a huge house with a psychic mom. And no one’s even heard of you, do you go to some fancy boarding school or something? With like, uniforms and everything. I bet it’s in England.” And maybe with wizards and sorting hats and dragons, Seiko had theories.

Annalise didn’t look up, her expression downcast and eyes uneasy. “Well,” she folded into herself. “It’s not a big deal. I’m just homeschooled.” “Oh,” Seiko blinked a couple times, that wasn’t what she imagined. It wasn’t how she imagined homeschool kids looked or how she imagined Annalise spent her days.

Annalise met her eyes tentatively, “You go to the school down the way,” Annalise touched her elbow, “Do you like it?” Seiko wasn’t sure how to answer that, did she like it? She didn’t know. It’s just what she did, it’s what everyone did, it’s not something you liked or didn’t, you just did it- like your laundry or the dishes.

“I guess?” She itched her nose, “I like PE and science class. Sometimes I like art, but Miss Shaw is kind of an old bag, she keeps telling me I draw without purpose. Whatever that means.” “Right,” Annalise looked away, as if that wasn’t what she was looking for.

“Right,” Seiko turned away, unable to hold on to whatever this was. She was about to tell Annalise to maybe secretly buy another pair of earrings and get rush delivery. And then she saw something glittering in the snow.

“Woah,” she reached down, following the reflection- a silver glare catching the light. “Oh man.” She picked up a blue-diamond, shaped as a perfect snowdrop with a silver back and little delicate outline.

It looked like something a prince might give a princess for her hand in marriage or a charm to ward off warlocks and ugly curses. It caught the light like a bird song and Seiko has to gape at the thing for a second.

She never got into ‘stuff,’ how could she? She could afford fingerless rainbow gloves and novelty t-shirts and the occasional ewok hat, but they weren’t like this. Nothing was like this.

“Here,” Seiko pushed it away from herself as if it burned, swallowing some bile in her throat she couldn’t name. She wasn’t going to own something like that, even if she got a silly boyfriend or big wedding, she knew that.

Annalise took it, cradling it in her clumsy gloved hands. “Thank you,” she said breathlessly, “Thank you so much.” Seiko thought she saw Annalise’s eyes go damp and slightly red, but it was hard to tell. Seiko just patted her knee, “No big deal,” she shrugged, “Pissing off your parents sucks.” And it doesn’t look like you have anyone else.

Seiko didn’t think of herself as observant or thoughtful or any of those ‘ding’ words, but Annalise looked up at her and Seiko felt like something, someone, after all.

Annalise put her hand out, “I can’t repay you enough.” For some reason, they shake, there in the snow and weak light and undelivered newspapers. “Let me get you some tea or dry gloves or anything.” Seiko just sniffed and looked away, “Nah.” She dusted herself off and got up again, “Just don’t complain about me and the gate or how I bike and all that stuff.” She winked, “I’m the good samaritan here.” “Yes, yes you are,” Annalise’s eyes go soft and she stood up after her. “Let me get you som-” And maybe she would have gotten her something, but they both heard footsteps from inside, “Annalise?” A voice called, “Honey?”

Annalise froze like she was a burglar caught in police headlights, “I gotta go.” They both tore away in opposite directions, though Seiko didn’t know what she was running for, she looked over to shoulder to see Annalise ripping off her plastic gloves and heavy coat, eyes wild with something.

Seiko hurried away with her pack at her side and a few missed calls from various adults. School had been canceled after all. And where was she? She should have been back then. And so on.

Seiko was wet and cold and achy when she returned, limbs heavy as stones and trembling on their own. Her thoughts endlessly started churning, taking apart what just happened. Annalise in the snow, her face as bright as an expanding star.

Annalise as frightened as a hare in a claw trap, Annalise cradling the blue diamond and on the verge of tears, Annalise looking at her.

She’s just another girl, she reminded herself, and I’m just being a good person.

She closed her eyes and put her head against the shower wall, hot water ran over her back and she exhaled, it was a day worth more than she knew.

—————

Annalise started to open up more to her each time she visited, as if finding her earring had turned Seiko from ‘alien service worker’ into ‘acceptable stranger on my porch.’

She started chatting, about the weather, about the Chicago Cubs (Annalise liked them for some reason), about the neighborhood and what size dog was ideal. Seiko said the bigger the dog the better, Annalise thought that if it couldn’t fit in a children’s swing it was too big.

Seiko started to worry more, that Annalise wasn’t allowed to play in the snow, that she wasn’t allowed to lose things. That she wasn’t outside anymore.

There wasn’t much she could do though and worrying didn’t stop time from passing like slowly dripping candle wax. Winter turned to spring and Seiko cut her hair again as her graduated into 6th grade, she was starting to like the short look.

“So you’re going to ‘Elmswood’,” Annalise said one day, bits of summer sun streaking across her cheek and eyes unreadable.

“Sure,” Seiko shrugged, “I mean, I think the soccer team will be cool and they have an actual film club instead of just one kid running a movie review column in the school paper.” “So?” Annalise still seemed bemused by everything about her.

“Plus, I mean, it’ll be nice,” Seiko put her hands in her pockets, “Maybe I can start over, ya know? Most the kids in my class won’t be going there,” she stood all the way up, “I’ll be the cool new kid.” Annalise somehow gave her an even more bemused look, “Are you not cool?” She asked dryly.

Seiko stuck her tongue out, “… not cool cool. People like Liza are cool,” she paused for a long second, frowning, then looked up again, “but I feel like me and Liza could really click next year if I go.” Annalise leaned back on her heels, “Be careful Seiko,” she said, her voice dull, flat, and fluttering out of her lips. “Girls like her may be just as the seem and nothing more.” “What?” She made a face, “What? They seem really cool and are?” Seiko just snorted, “You should get out more…” She took a step forward, hunching her shoulders slowly, “you could come too. Maybe you’d actually like it.” Annalise shook her head, as if breaking out of a daze. “Where?” “Elmswood,” she said simply, “I mean, June is going too. Who is the worst and won’t stop bringing up every embarrassing thing that’s ever happened, but it’s fine. We could gang up against her.” She gave a devilish grin, “You could tell her some bogus fortune like her life line has a huge rude gorilla in her future.” Annalise frowned deeply and looked down at her knees, “I can’t.” She said simply, “I do school here.” “But-” “I can’t.” She said sternly and took her newspaper inside without another word.

The conversation ended for that day.

—————–

Time seemed so slow when she was young, but it passed just as it always did: one drop at a time. She graduated elementary school, spent a summer lazing around the pool and trying out things like rollerblading and science camp. She scraped her knees at both and said she wasn’t ever going back.

Her uncle gave her a cheap camera to take videos on, it was better than her phone and she became obsessed with dressing her sister up and filming her destroying cereal-box cities.

She kept her delivery route, Bobby quit that year and Seiko got a raise, she kept attending monthly pizza nights. Mr. Simmons added brownies to the meal, he winked and said ‘not the type you kids like though.’ He was still somehow convinced they were preteens with a thing for weed.

Seiko felt like she knew everything and absolutely nothing.

Liza Mayweather seemed excited to start Elmswood with her, Seiko didn’t know what to make of that. She entered Middle School with new ripped jeans, a skrillex t-shirt, and knock-off vans, sick with excitement, but fall soon sunk into normalcy.

She was the worst player on the soccer team, but they gave her the job of taking videos for the games, she started editing them to Queen songs and shatter sound effects. The girls laughed themselves silly when she added fake bloopers and ‘mm whatya say’ whenever they missed a goal.

Her sister turned 3 and her mother fretted about her speaking properly and walking and potty-training and everything she could fret about. Kingsley wrote Seiko a heavily worded text about not spending enough time together and ‘forgetting him.’ Seiko broke out the ‘super pinky promise’ to assure him they weren’t going anywhere. She got a hairline fracture on her wrist from a bike crash.

She wore a helmet after that.

Annalise, Annalise remained the same. A picture on her porch, in a variety of pajamas and flat expressions, sometimes she showed her new earrings or a good book she read.

Sometimes Annalise started speaking so quickly and emphatically that Seiko couldn’t stop her, like an overflowing dam. Sometimes she barely said anything at all, dark sleepless bruises under her eyes and something bumpy under her words.

“Are you writing on yourself?” Seiko pointed out one day, looking at a few words printed over Annalise wrist, inky and precise, Annalise quickly left after that.

She was still a strange girl in a strange house. And it didn’t change.

——————

Seiko was 13, it was the second semester of 7th grade. She was breaking out on her chin, sweating through her shirts, and wearing lumpy sports bras that made her feel like a padded grandma. She had refused to let the fitting-room lady measure her so she just guessed her size and fled like The Other Man out of his lover’s bedroom window.

Her mother gave her the longest lecture of her life about periods and babies, Seiko turned two shades of green and swore up and down that this didn’t have anything to do with her. Her mom gave a tampon demonstration.

Liza got a boyfriend. No one else did.

And something changed.

Seiko’s mom said she was getting too old for paper routes, but Seiko kept on, she knew the way, she knew the drill, it was fine money. June quit the paper route that year, so it was just her, Katy, and all the new kids they started to ignore.

And something changed.

It was spring, smelling green and loud and filled with a type of hope that carried on with arbitrary spinning of the world into the sun. Seiko had a history report due and a split-lip from a soccer ball to the face, she barely looked at the houses she delivered to anymore.

Annalise was standing at the edge of her porch, an enormous smile spread across her usually grim features. She waved excitedly when Seiko arrived.

“Come come,” she leaned forward on her tiptoes and gestured, “Come up, I have news.” Seiko raised her eyebrows, “Oh?” Annalise bounced in place, she seemed more full today, like the light had been pumped back into her. Seiko reached the side of the porch, Annalise clapped her hands together, “I got your friend in.” She burst out like a party popper, like Seiko would know what that meant. Seiko tried to smile back, “You got my… friend in?” She wracked her brain for what that could mean.

Annalise visibly sagged, “You don’t remember.” Seiko put her hands up, “No, no, just… jog my memory maybe?” Annalise gave a forceful sigh, “You don’t remember.” It looked like an out-and-out pout.

Seiko leaned on the side of the porch, “Tell me about,” she grinned and rose up toward Annalise, “kids these days, amiright? Can’t remember a thing without smartphones.”

Annalise gave a quick smile and then trained herself back into a pout, “You’re the one that told me about her.” She folded her arms over her chest.

Annalise blinked a couple times, “Who?” She couldn’t even place a name.

“Katy Mendoza!” She said clippedly, “You had me dig up all her letters years ago.” Seiko’s mouth fell open, “You actually looked for them?” “Of course I did,” Annalise defended, lifting her chin up and looking away, “no faith.” Seiko lit up, “You actually looked for them!”

Annalise huffed, “All for nothing it seems.” “No, no,” she tossed the paper on their doorstep to pay proper attention to Annalise, “You, you got her a spot?” Annalise grew a slim smile, almost sly. “It took awhile. My mom has a long waiting list, but, well,” she puffed up, “That girl kept sending letters and I kept putting them at top of the stack.” She grinned widely, “It finally paid off.” “Wow!” Annalise clapped, she hadn’t talked to Katy in three weeks, but still. “Woah, that’s so cool! You made it happen.” Annalise fluffed her hair, “Of course I did.” They both laughed and spring seemed more spring than it did before. “Watch tonight,” Annalise beamed, chest puffed out. “Yeah, of course,” Seiko nodded so hard she thinks pez candies might start shooting of out her neck, “I will!”

Annalise seemed to have a long memory, longer than hers, and she preened like a shiny hen at a peacock competition.

—————–

Seiko was 13 and lying on her stomach in front of the TV. They had gotten more channels in the last few years, her little sister liked PBS and their mom compromised.

“Don’t forget,” her mom called from the kitchen, “it’s your night to put the dishes away.” “I know mom,” she called back, “It’s just a half-hour program.” Her mom walked back and forth between rooms, “And put away your cleats.” “I already did!” “Then what did I just step on in the hallway?” They were still in the same smarmy small apartment.

“Ugh,” Seiko quickly got to her feet and rushed to put her cleats back in her room, just as the psychic’s jingle came on.

‘Your future is waiting, your future is written. Sit down with Madame Lynn and hear the infinite.’

It reminded her of a slightly more-spooky car sales jingle.

“Are you really watching this?” Her mom stood on the cusp of the living room, taking the time to stop and comment.

“A friend is on.” Katy had almost fainted when she was told she would actually be on TV. That she would find out about her love line, solve her heart’s sickness and find out the truth- apparently she had never given up on that.

Seiko placed herself in front of the screen, propped up and focused. Rei sat in the other room and audibly baballed a very long story to their father about animals and bugs she had recently seen. Her father clapped along at every other full sentence and Seiko turned the volume up.

The stage was brightly lit and a dark velvet screen filled the background, a single plain table sat in the center of the space, it was covered in a red cloth decorated with various symbols. She recognized some of them as Kanji and even hindu script, Seiko snorted at that.

The unseen announcer reminded her the show was filmed in front of a live audience. The town of Rogers was waiting.

A woman walked on, she was tall and upright and slightly ‘handsome’ if you would use that word. She wore a long burnt-orange silk scarf around her black hair, enormous round glasses, and a deep maroon shawl around her thin shoulders. Seiko had seen her around on local signs and a couple video clips, but it had never occurred to her that this woman didn’t look terribly like Annalise.

Her complexion was darker (which wasn’t hard), her eyes were deeper set in her face and features pasted on at different mismatching angles. She looked like a collaborative art piece from college students whereas Annalise reminded her of a classical European painting.

Though, of course, Madame Lynne’s entire demeanor and disjointed look fit her persona, the smalltown psychic with otherworldly powers. Despite the cheesy effects, numerous gaudy bangles, and over-the-top opera gloves she wore, Seiko could see why people thought she was a witch.

She carried herself like that, like some other strange force swept across the stage, swaying and stalking over like a suave cat.

“She’s such a hack,” Seiko’s mom tutted from the background. “I’ve seen those tarot card she uses online. They aren’t even an original set.”

“Sshhush,” Seiko waved her hand through the air frantically, “it’s about to start.” Her mom just humphed but didn’t move to leave.

Madame Lynne looked directly at the camera as she spoke, solid and imposing. That part reminded her of Annalise at least. “We have a special guest tonight, an anxious soul in need,” Madame Lynne’s ghostly voice rang out, enrapturing and deep. “A young woman with woes and a heart full to bursting. Her path ahead is uncertain and she has come to us for counsel, a dedicated fan and Rogers local, please welcome Katy Mendoza!”

Katy walked onto stage with her huge eyes and quivering lips and mousy nose, she looked just as unsure of herself on TV as she did everywhere else. She picked her way across the stage and took her time sitting down, trembling slightly.

“I’m such a big fan of yours Madame Lynne,” she whispered in her cricket voice, the microphone had been placed extra high on her collar. “You don’t know what this means to me.”

“I’m sure my dear,” she patted her hand warmly, “I’m happy to help.” The show preceded much as Seiko assumed it would. Katy gushed to the psychic, explaining her heart’s dilemma: that no one had ever like her, that she was too ugly and shy and would never find love.

Madame Lynne assured her that she was lovely and that anyone who valued her outsides more than her insides weren’t worth her time. Seiko liked that part, Katy brimmed with some fragile hope and a watery heartfelt smile played across her face whenever Madame Lynne spoke. That was something.

And then they got to the reading.

Seiko understood very little of it, she had gone through a brief witch phase herself but most of it had been reading about the occult and trying to summon cthulhu. She hadn’t gotten to tarot.

Madame Lynne brought out her stack of shiny golden cards and shuffled them in place, her long fingers quick and fastidious, almost mesmerizing as she began to hum. This was the pinnacle of the whole show, Seiko watched in a trance.

Katy drew six cards and Madame Lynne placed them out across the table methodically, explaining each card’s meaning in relation to Katy’s past and present. Seiko glazed over during this part, most of it she already knew: a controlling father, several nervous habits, a desperate wish for confidence. Seiko understood. However, Katy started weeping when she pulled out the sixth card and final card, it was revealed to be the ten of pentacles.

“It’s certain,” Madame Lynne held her hands and patted the top, “This reading is clear: true love is certain.”

Katy let out a hiccuping sob and wiped at her eyes, Seiko smiled a real smile for the other girl instead of rolling her eyes. Love wasn’t exactly on Seiko’s ‘important things’ list, but this felt like something else.

“Will I have kids?” Katy asked next in a small voice, “And a house with a yard? For my daughter to run around in.” Madame Lynne blinked a couple times, confused for a moment, then probably broke some sort of rule and held out the cards once more, “Let’s find out. Hold your question clearly in your mind and pick another.” Katy bit her lip, concentrating for a full minute, she drew a seventh card. It had a shimmery large wheel in the center, someone in the audience gasped. It was the wheel of fortune, Madame Lynne frowned, “It is uncertain.” “Oh…” Katy hung her head, face falling.

“But don’t fret young dear,” Madame Lynne reassured, “your future is your own. If you want a daughter, you may certainly still have one.” Katy looked back at Madame Lynne, fixedly, worshipfully. Seiko had an odd feeling about this.

“Did it work out for you Madame, do you have any kids?” She asked earnestly. Seiko’s mouth fell open, no doubt Katy remembered the conversation they had all those years ago. “Did you want them too?” Madame faltered for the first time that night, a sudden slippage of her expression and poise, heavy brow furrowing. “Well,” she folded her hands in the lap and then reverted to calm smile, maternal even. “Yes, how perceptive you are. I also wanted a daughter, much like you.” She leaned over to pet Katy’s hair, Katy leaned into it.

“And you got her? It worked out.” Katy nodded as if that answered everything. Madame Lynne gave a heavy sigh, “You’re future is your own, young one.” She said slowly, “But it was not to be for me. I wanted a daughter, yes, but I’m afraid it never materialized in my fortunes. My flock are my children now.” Seiko froze in place, didn’t have a daughter? Why would she say that? Of course she had a daughter, Seiko had been chatting with every week since she was 10.

“But I thought… you had one?” Katy seemed confused, a murmur went through the crowd, something was off.

Seiko’s eyes bulged at the whole affair, Madame Lynne looked dead into the camera, cutting and direct, somehow loaded. “I’m not sure where you got that idea…” Seiko’s heart dropped, she breathed in through her nose and felt somewhat chilled. What did that even mean? Why would Madame Lynne not acknowledge Annalise? Seiko’s head spun and she quickly turned off the TV, not even finishing the program. Something was off.

—————–

Seiko reluctantly approached the wedding-cake house the next day, feet scraping against the pavement and path zig-zagging. She’d chosen not to ride her bike that day, even if walking was the equivalent of taking a rowboat when a speedboat was available.

I don’t have a daughter.

Seiko still had no idea what that meant. Was Madame Lynne hiding her? Was Seiko mistaken about the house? Had she been seeing things?

Seiko had a couple new things in her search history, such as ‘Signs You Are Actually Communing with the Dead’ and ‘How Good is Recent Hologram Technology?’ She almost asked her mom if she had ever had vivid hallucinations growing up.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

She took her time unlatching the large iron gate and closing it behind her, sneaking onto the property with light feet. She kept her eyes trained on the stoic grey house as she approached. There was no one outside that morning, no one in sight at all, that was very very out of the ordinary.

Seiko’s shoulders rose like the haunches of spooked cats, she drew closer sluggishly, had something gone wrong? She made it to the front porch and slid the newspaper toward the door in the way a blackjack dealer slides cards to players about to bust. She nearly jumped out of her skin when the door finally swung open, Annalise hurried out onto the porch as usual, cheeks slightly flushed.

“There you are,” She blinked a couple times.

“Annalise!” Seiko clutched her heart as the other girl appeared.

Annalise just leaned over the porch, “Did you see the show last night?” “I-I did,” Seiko bit her lip, fishing for the words to say next. Your mother tells people you don’t exist. That seemed like a bad place to start.

“I hope you liked it.” Another voice input from behind the doorway, deep and direct. If seeing Annalise that morning was disconcerting, seeing Madame Lynne hovering behind her in the doorway was even more so. She was wearing a deep blue bathrobe, a towel over her black hair and several fat rings on her fingers, her makeup was gone and so were her huge glasses.

She seemed plain now, no less spooky and uncanny, but more simple. She frowned slightly and fixed Seiko with a hard look, Seiko squirmed in place.

“Here’s your paper ma’am!” She shoved the power toward the woman. “I hope you’re having a good morning.” She was suddenly sure she was sweating through her lumpy sports bra.

“Indeed,” Madame Lynne’s lip curled back, brown eyes narrowing. Annalise stood uncomfortably between them as they exchanged a charged look. “I’m glad my daughter has friends.” Seiko blinked blankly at that, the back of her neck prickling.

“But, please, be mindful.” Madame Lynne put one bony hand on Annalise’s cheek, dragging her fingers down in a caress. “She’s my only daughter and I treasure her, her constitution is… weak.” Madame Lynne pursed her lips, “And we are a private family.” The older woman seemed to be nudging at something Seiko didn’t quite grasp, Seiko kept meeting her gaze and looking sheepishly away again. “I… I understand.” She didn’t understand. “Good,” Madame Lynne straightened up, “I hope you won’t go spreading any rumors then our little paper girl.” She smiled toothily, “Apparently the town already thinks I’m a witch. And a bad one at that!” She laughed richly and Seiko tried to join in.

“They do say… silly things.” Seiko was starting to suspect this woman was a witch.

“We’ll have to see you tomorrow then Seiko,” Madame Lynne reached for the door, “Say goodbye now Annalise.” Annalise waved limply, looking rather off-put. “See you Seiko.” Seiko waved back, wondering if she should mouth something or break into interpretive dance, but the door swung shut and Seiko was left there- confused and little taken back.

We’re a private family.

Seiko still had questions.

—————–

Madame Lynne chaperoned their conversations from then on, showing up at the door in her lofty imperial bathrobe and lingering just behind Annalise. Seiko had no idea why.

Their conversations became a lot more bland and short, about the weather or the morning headline or even schoolwork of all things. Annalise was learning advanced algebra apparently, because of course she was.

Madame Lynne took up a lot of the space.

‘I hear you’re on the soccer team Seiko.’

‘I hear you struggle in social studies, perhaps give this book a try…’

‘I hear you like movies.’

Like, yes? Of course she liked movies. Seiko barely had any proper answers, it felt like she was filling in multiple choice bubbles and it kept coming up red ink. She fumbled through nonetheless and then left. Somedays Annalise didn’t speak at all.

—————

Time slipped by, Seiko got caught up in school drama, after school practice, and her little sister’s new nightmares about a jello monster that lived under their carpet.

She was 14 and in the last year of Middle School, she already knew she was going to Dale High school with all the other Elmswood students this time.

It was the tailend of winter, a grey day, grey and quiet and her feet crunched through the two inches of snow with every step. She was no longer ten and filled with bustling excitement, she was used to waking up at 5am, but that didn’t mean she liked it anymore.

Seiko yawned with enough force to suck in a small planet and barely noticed where she threw the newspapers anymore. Her aim was good enough, but they usually bounced and it was up to God and Jesus Christ where they landed after that.

She yawned again and checked her cellphone. Maria was mad at Cynthia for talking to her boyfriend last night after the game, but it’s not like Cynthia started it. He talked to her first and she was just laughing at his jokes to be polite.

The group chat went on and on, Seiko wished they could just go back to sending memes and silly pictures of their coach. But Cynthia had apparently also tugged on Matt’s sleeve and put a hand on his chest, people were taking sides.

Seiko was caught up in the drama of the little team when she reached the wedding-cake house. It was empty that morning and Seiko frowned, preparing herself for another brief ‘mom conversation.’

She reached the door and put the paper neatly down, raising her eyebrows when no one greeted her at all, all the lights were off. She took a second to dawdle and stand there. This was different.

She was about to turn around and stomp her way to the next house when the door finally swung open.

“Good morning,” Madame Lynne stood in the doorway, black bangs loose and smile plastered across her face unevenly. “Annalise is sick this morning, but she sends her regards.” Seiko just nodded, bobbing her head a bit to try and see past Madame Lynne, someone was standing on the stairs. Madame Lynne took a step to block her view.

“Have a nice day now Seiko.” Seiko shifted again, the figure on the stairs shifted as well, a pair of pale legs came into view. They looked off- dented, shadowed, Madame Lynne raised her arms up, the wings of bathrobe block the whole view.

“Yes ma’am,” she finally said, “Tell Annalise to get better soo-” The door closed in her face before she even finished the sentence. There were quick footsteps from inside but nothing more.

Seiko sniffed loudly and turned. She was thinking of quitting her paper route.

She was almost in high school after all.

She didn’t see Annalise after that.

————–

“You’re turning fifteen,” her mom was folding laundry on the couch. “You’ll need a real job this summer.” “I have a real job mom, I get tips.” Seiko folded her socks haphazardly and then moved onto the next pair. “And I told you, I don’t know.” “Don’t know what?” Her mom frowned sourly, “That bike of yours is rusting and your father is too old to keep repairing it for you.” Seiko rolled her eyes, “I walk most days now anyway.” She shook her head.

“Well,” her mom hummed loudly, “Why walk when you could drive?” Seiko sat all the up, hands falling down to her lap as her mom said it. “Seriously?” Her face lit up, “It’s time? You’ll teach me?” Seiko’s parents hadn’t mentioned anything about her driving yet, even as all the other kids started to get lessons.

Her mom tilted her chin up proudly, “Driving is a privilege,” Seiko vibrated in place at that, “And for girls who need to get places. Such as to real jobs. Did you know my friend at the grocery store is hiring?” Seiko just nodded emphatically, “Awesome! Yes.”

She would be in high school in just one month, Seiko decided she needed a cooler persona beyond ‘delivery girl who owned a camera and sucked at soccer.’ Now she could be the girl who drove her parents 1999 beat-up corolla.

Or at the very least didn’t bike to school every day.

——————-

“Yes, ma’am, this is my last day.” Seiko gave her most winning smile to old Mrs. Hankla, the paperbag-textured woman humphed, frowned, and told her to wait there a moment. Mrs. Hankla put down her watering hose and went inside without turning it off. She came back outside with a twenty.

“Buy yourself something nice,” Mrs. Hankla seemed to swat the air in front of her and handed the bill over, “and don’t go spending it on candy and chocolates for some boy. That’s how they get ‘ya.”

“Oh yeah, I hear you,” Seiko laughed and pocketed the money as she was on her way. “Thanks Miss H!” She called, “Look after Nooky for me.” The woman just grunted in reply and it was like every other morning, but now she had a twenty.

A surprising number of people were up and about that morning, preening their lawns, checking their mail languidly, and stretching for a morning run. It was one of the last weeks of summer and everyone from sports nuts to grumpy dads in nothing but boxer shorts were enjoying the final days of truly delicious sunshine.

Seiko even had a little hop in her step, it was her last round ever and her first job really had treated her well. Even if she had become later and later with each year, did people really need their papers at 6am sharp? Not according to her they didn’t.

Seiko climbed the small hill and tried not to think about the middle house on Townshend street. The one that looked like a wedding cake.

It’s just another house, she told herself carefully. It’s not even goodbye forever.

She opened the fairygate slowly and carefully made her way up, the white doors were closed with no one there to greet her. But that had become normal.

Seiko placed the paper down and lingered at the door for another moment, was it rude to knock? Was it more rude to not tell them? She impulsively reached out, “Hi Lynne’s!” She knocked three times, “I just wanted to tell you, this is my last day.” She nodded at herself, “It’s been nice being your paper girl! Our talks have been nice, I mean, I hope… well I hope you have a nice day! Tell Annalise…” She petered out, she didn’t know what to tell Annalise. I hope you find a way out of this house? I hope one day you look a little less lonely? Someone cares about you?

Her heart sank, she couldn’t say that.

“Bye!” She finished lamely and turned to leave, squishing down any lingering emotions of what this would mean. She quickly skid down the driveway and back toward the road, she had her rounds to finish.

Seiko half-expected the door to open or a voice to call after her at the last second, nothing but silence and bird calls chased her down the road and around the corner.

Seiko finished delivering her last paper and loitered at the end of Greenbriar, taking one last look at her old stomping grounds. She turned her phone camera around: very last day at my childhood job!! She captioned a snapchat with her empty bag and threw up a peace sign for the hell of it.

That’s when a series of hurried footsteps thumped down the sidewalk, clumsy and stumbling on the pavement. Seiko whipped around to see a young woman in soft white pants and an overly-large apricot sweater standing there. Seiko jammed her phone in her pocket and stood up straight.

Her curls were longer, softly falling past her shoulders and down her back, she was taller as well, taller than Seiko by then. Puberty had seemed to hit her like a lovers kiss, all sweet clean skin and swan-length limbs. Brushstrokes of youth whereas Seiko felt like puberty had swung at her wildly with a baseball bat: all hairy legs and spotty acne and terrifying vivid red dreams you couldn’t repeat to anyone.

Seiko’s mouth was hanging open as she took Annalise in, she tried to stifle her thoughts before they even began, seeing the young woman out in full sunlight, breathless and reaching for her. Lovely as any dream Seiko had ever had.

Seiko swallowed in the way you choke down medication with a swollen throat.

“Don’t go,” Annalise’s dark blue eyes were huge and searching, she panted, “Don’t go.” Seiko sucked in a breath and dashed back up the street, “Annalise,” she smiled widely, pausing just in front of her, “it’s weird to see you not on your porch. How are you feeling? I haven’t… seen you in awhile.”

Annalise just shook her head, “don’t say this your last day.” Her voice sounded wet with emotion and she pawed at her face forcefully, though it didn’t look like there were any tears there.

Seiko’s shoulders relaxed and she smiled faintly, “Sorry,” she swallowed, “I need a different job and this one… doesn’t really fit anymore.” Annalise shook her head more vigorously, pressing her lips together tight as an angry iron line. “It was,” she whispered, “I waited for you every day. It was the best part of my day.”

Seiko’s chest tightened, a pain shooting through her upper body. I know you were lonely.

She rubbed her shoulder, “Why don’t I come visit? Or better yet, let’s hang out sometime, like, I dunno, get pizza or walk to the park or go swimming-” “My mom wouldn’t allow it,” Annalise was pawing at her face again, hiccuping. “She thinks I’m not ready.” Seiko frowned decidedly, she touched the other girl’s wrist, it was dry and rough. “Annalise,” she said seriously, “Is there something you’re not telling me? Is your mother,” she looked around and leaned in, whispering between them, “Trapping you in there? Are you okay?” Annalise’s bottom lip trembled, “It’s not like that. You wouldn’t understand,” she took a step back, “I don’t like to go out.”

“I know,” Seiko’s brow folded in, “But, I mean, we could still be friends! Let’s try and f-” “Annalise!” A voice carried down the street and both their heads jerk up, a woman in a long sweeping robe and strappy heels was running down the sidewalk. “What are you doing? Look at the sun coming up, are you even wearing sunscreen?” Annalise scowled back at her, “Here.” She turned back to Seiko, “You forgot this.” She slipped a wad of cash into Seiko’s hands and Seiko just blinked, she looked back up, “Wait.” She said thinly, “We need to talk. I can help you, I can do something.” “My mom is coming,” Annalise turned, “Thank you Seiko. Thank you for everything.” Her words were heavy and brimming with other unsaid things. But just like that Annalise was jogging back to her mom, calling out tersely. “I’m fine Catherine.” She seemed to snap, “See? No damages, God, you’re so dramatic.” Seiko watched the interaction mutely, trying to piece together whatever that all meant. Would a trapped girl talk to her mother like that? Would an abused girl simply leave again? Annalise took her mom’s hand and they walk back toward their house hand in hand, Madame Lynne didn’t even spare a glance for Seiko. It was Seiko’s last day after all and she’d be gone like a coins into a Las Vegas slot machine.

When Seiko looked down at the money in her hand there was a small slip of paper as well: a note written in neat fine handwriting.

[email protected] – write me.

Seiko blinked at the message for a long few seconds, “unicorn… stormbringer?” She broke into a smile and something jumbled in her chest like elegantly tossed puzzle pieces. She had gotten an email.

——————-

Dear Annalise, So… about that email address. Where exactly are you hiding your horn? And are you always summoning storms or just when you’re in a bad mood? Did that address come with glitter and like, rainbow stickers?

Kidding.

Are you alright though? Do you need anything? From,

Your delivery girl

She got a response back right away.

Dear Delivery girl,

Haha. For one thing, I needed something my mom would never guess- and for another I just needed any email at all, it seemed like a good idea when I was 12.

How is ‘lucyliusloveinterest’ any better?? And who is Lucy Lui? No, no, I’m fine. My mother is just overprotective, it’s complicated, don’t worry about me.

How was your day? I stopped getting a lot of updates from you, you’re going to high school soon, right? How was graduation? How was the soccer season? From,

Your Least Favorite Former Unicorn Enthusiast

Seiko grinned to herself and started typing away, she imagined she was a 19th century working girl keeping correspondence with an old-fashioned bedridden rich socialite. You know, instead of texting like normal people.

Dear Unicorn Salivator,

For one, the fact you never leave your house is no excuse for not knowing Lucy Liu, for shame!! (Elementary? Charlie’s Angels?? )

The address is an inside joke from a rather out of control sleepover. I’ll never live it down, but I will make a joke email around it! Haha, nothing serious, just a lifetime of embarrassment nbd

Day was fine, graduation was pretty awesome, I got my picture in the yearbook TWICE, one for jump-high fiving the mascot and the other for a gatorade incident. Soccer kind of sucked, too much drama and our coach wanted us to get ‘serious,’ whatever that means.

We got to state tho, then immediately knocked out of state, figures

I might not do it next year, but Liza says practice will suck without me and that I can’t leave her, maybe it will be different in High School, so I guess I’ll endure. I GUESS

High school is gonna be hella different tho, I swear, I’m buying an electric scooter (eventually) and I’m pretty sure I’m gonna ace social studies for once, go to a few dances, maybe break an arm and get everyone to sign the cast, move to Peru and open a coffee shop, you know

How are you? Your mom see my future recently? Read any good books? Come get pizza with us some time, I promise that public school kids don’t bite

Yours,

Soccer Dud, High School Stud

Dear Dud,

Sorry, pizza sounds lovely, but it will have to wait for later.

As for the soccer, I have to say…

——–

High school passed rotely: a series of highs and lows, almost failing math for a hot second, quitting the soccer team, rejoining the soccer team, getting the flu, getting ask out- turning down someone for the first time. And emails. Lots of emails.

Seiko had no idea how she could write paragraphs on paragraphs to a girl she had known for only minutes at a time in middle school. But maybe it made sense, maybe Seiko wanted it to make sense.

Why does her mother keep her indoors? Was any of it okay?

The emails became a constant in her life as the first year of high school dragged on.

Dear Dior Heathen (who God hath abandoned),

Uuuugh, my mom is bugging me so much recently. She’s obsessed with Rei and her elementary school play, but barely remembers to even take me out to drive. It’s always ‘wait your turn Seiko’ and ‘talk to your dad about it.’ He’s such a space case when I do, he keeps pretending to lose the car keys and makes a big deal of it (or he’s not pretending??).

This whole semester is screwed, high school is the worst Annalise, I’m so jealous of you being homeschooled.

The video and film club keep outvoting me for what short film we make, no one wants to do my alien thriller murder project. NO TASTE. June’s in that club. Did I mention June? We used to do paper delivery stuff together

She’s the worst. And she keeps wanting to do this romcom she wrote!! It’s based off her dumb supernatural fanfiction- I swear to God it is. She’s only a sophomore, but claims to have the most ‘seniority.’ She’s also in the lbgt+ club and says that also makes her ‘the authority on art,’ whatever that means, and she keeps trying to get me to join >:(((

For the record, JUST BECAUSE I HAVE SHORT HAIR AND PLAY SOCCER DOESN’T MEAN ANYTHING!! She’s so pushy, and presumptuous!! dating is like… the last thing on my mind

Hbu? You finish that book about the secret life of trees? Do they do anything spicy, like squirrel espionage? Tree murder plots? Huh?

OR how about… your LOVE LIFE? Your mom’s new ‘Loves Fortune’ show is all the rage at school, tell me she’s at least tried to read your future and it’s like… a horse (unicorn maybe, hmm?) husband. Or probably a lesser nobility of a small country, aim high A!!

Anyway, gotta go count my $$$, I want to go to movies this weekend and I didn’t get that grocery store job (since no one will teach me to drive!!) and I’m still living off my paper route money. THE CRUELTY OF IT ALL *this is where I swoon and fall to the ground, I can’t go to the movies, people are weeping, Mr. Dior is there, he tells me I am terribly unfashionable*

Yours,

Your Impoverished Vehicle-less Friend

Dear Marooned Stranger,

You poor dear, I wonder what it’s like to not be able to go anywhere (*she loudly coughs into her hand*). I wouldn’t be too jealous of being homeschooled dear, it gets rather… suffocating to be honest. Involving many rules and worksheets and sorting through her vast collection of dusty tomes and ‘elixirs,’ Catherine is going from overbearing to class A-hysteric.

Everything worries her lately! At least her new show keeps her busy, out more, trust me, it’s a nice breather.

You claim to not have dating on your mind, but this is the third time you’ve asked me about a love life who do you think I’m going to meet all the way up in my room? The new delivery boy doesn’t even smile and the birds outside my window are assholes, no one likes an early-morning screamer.

So no. No love life.

But I wouldn’t be so close-minded of that club if I were you! I was reading ‘Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers’ for my social studies curriculum and it was truly fascinating. I know you never read my recommended books, but give it a try.Who knows, maybe you can usurp June at her club! Viva la non-pushy girls ;).

Also, remind me of when your birthday is. I want to send you something.

Yours,

Loveless in Confinement

Dear Inmate,

Sucks to be yoooooouuuu. Haha, but I’m serious, for real, for really serious. Break out. She can’t keep you there forever!! What are you, almost 16? Let’s go out, get a milkshake, knock over a trash can, break loose

Hell, we could go to a ‘scene,’ Kingsley invited me to one of those recently

He’s into ‘scenes’ now, and smoking apparently which is really gross but his mom says he’s just ‘experimenting.’ I hope she doesn’t think his new boyfriend is just an experiment too (see?? I’m not close-minded, my friend from elementary school is gay. So there). I haven’t seen him in awhile so it will be like a big ‘ol reunion

Also, sorry bb but you already missed my bday, it’s November 15th and it’s almost April lol. But you have to come to my next one!! The big 1 and 6, hopefully I’ll finally be able to drive by then, if the lord deigns to bless me with any indulgences at all adkfjagjgp

You can still send me a present tho!! I accept late-work, no points taken off :3c

I’ll try usurping June too, maybe not at her tiny lbtq club but I WILL have my alien-thriller-murder movie come to life!!

Liza keeps asking me about film club, I think she can tell my heart is like not into soccer at all at the moment. I dunno, I keep thinking we’ll drift apart after middle school but every time I think about like, not seeing her, or not talking to her, it just sucks. You know? Really sucks

Ugh, June would throw a big ‘I told you so’ party if she saw me writing that, and then I’d have to smack her haha

I’m serious about you getting out of there tho, I’m real about it, we should stop talking about it and just do it, you know?

If you do want some outside-time meet me next Friday, at the end of Greenbriar by the entrance sign, I’ll wear my neon green windbreaker so you can recognize me (and since it’s an AMAZING jacket and NOT an eyesore like my mom says). At 7, k?

We’ll do whatever.

Anyway, yours,

Your Sucker-Punching Sad Sap of a Friend

(Outside Greenbriar!! 7, don’t tell your mom or anything haha, I’ll get you home before 10 promise)

Dear Seiko,

I’d like that. I’d really really like that.

I’ll bring your present then, by the sign, 7 O’clock , I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.

Yours,

Annalise

—————

Seiko stood in the gentle spring air, the last rays of the sun bleaching across the land, shining in between the houses and warming the back of her neck. She took deep even breaths.

She was wearing her neon green windbreaker, holding a stuffed unicorn toy, and wearing her hair up in the shortest ponytail this side of Chicago. Maybe if she pretended to have long hair her heart wouldn’t beat so fast. Like hummingbirds caught in a wind turbine.

It’s just hanging out, she hunched her shoulders over. It’s just a silly toy I got her.

Freshmen year of highschool hadn’t gone like she expected. Sure, she had gotten ‘involved,’ made some friends and lost some, but she wasn’t popular and she wasn’t ‘taking the town.’ She didn’t really feel like anything at all. She was still just the girl making video edits with cartoon sound effects and photoshopping wiener dog faces over the woodshop teachers face.

She was still just Seiko.

Her mom wanted her to get a proper job again or she wasn’t affording new shoes for next year, she wanted her to quit soccer, Seiko wanted to quit soccer, Seiko couldn’t quit soccer. She kept looking at Liza and feeling some tasteless, nameless thing she pushed down like drowning a first born son in a bathtub.

But this wasn’t nameless. It was Seiko holding a stuffed animal around the neck and swaying back and forth in the warm breeze. It was Seiko checking her phone’s clock, again and again.

She had put on mascara, she had put on lip gloss. Ten minutes passed.

She had walked there so she wouldn’t sweat on a bike ride over. Twenty minutes passed.

She thought out what she wanted to say over and over, a simple ‘hey, you look nice.’ Thirty minutes passed.

She bought a purple and white unicorn with a sparkly horn for fifteen bucks. She waited fifty minutes.

Seiko’s arms fell to her side, she waited an entire hour for someone in a pretty white dress and expensive earrings and angry little face to show up. No one showed.

————–

From: [email protected]

Where were you? Get busted by the man on your way out? Get cold feet? Lmk, either way I’m sending you 4 videos, 3 are cute dog videos you WILL enjoy and 1 is Rick Astley. Choose wisely. *saw music plays*

1, 2, 3, 4

Yours,

I’ll be real with you, Im a little pissed

PS I hope you’re okay.

Seiko never got a reply. She didn’t get anything at all, no matter how many follow up emails she sent, no matter how many ‘just write me that you’re okay. And not trapped in a dungeon somewhere.’

‘Just write me one letter, if it’s the letter ‘c’ I’ll come get you.’

‘Just send me some smoke signals, I’ll look to the western sky’

‘Just write me at all.’

‘Annalise…?’

————

Seiko visited Annalise’s house. Something had to be done, it was the middle of the day a week later, she waited ten minutes on the sidewalk, just watching the house. She saw a blond head in the first-story window.

Seiko waved forcefully, gesturing for her to come outside- come away with her, Annalise’s head turned and their eyes met. Seiko beamed, but Annalise gave her a neutral look, all placid eyes and an uninterested twitch of her lip.

Annalise looked away after that. Simply turned her head and looked the other direction. Seiko waited another minute, but Annalise never came out to greet her.

Seiko stared at her shoes, took a deep gulping breath, and went home the long way. The way that made her legs ache and her eyes sting a little less in the night air.

—————-

Seiko was 16. It was the week of her birthday, Seiko was 16 and she couldn’t tell if she was at the top of the world or buried under a hundred pounds of dirt.

“Just come,” she heard the voice of her friend Kingsley on the phone, “One night, it’s your birthday weekend, spend it with people who like you instead of all those hetero soccer girls who put your bra in the freezer last year.” Seiko rolled her eyes, “That was just a stupid prank and they already took me to Denny’s this week on my actual birthday, bought me every flavor of pancake for your information. It was cool.” She flinched at the memory of the cold ice on her chest, but she pushed it back down. She had laughed that all off. “And what if they figure out the IDs are fake? My mom would kill me for even thinking the words ‘fake ID.’”

“Tres Beaut doesn’t even card before 11 and I know a guy,” Kingsley explained slowly, “Sei, I invited people from your school too, Liza something- you like her, right? You gotta come. What happened to that ‘fuck the man’ spirit? You’re the one that made me watch the Breakfast Club when we were ten.” Seiko gave a brief laugh, she forgot how much she missed Kingsley. Then she frowned again, “For one, Liza is definitely not coming.” She covered her eyes with her arm and groaned, “Definitely not.” “Why not?” He humphed, “I thought she was the one you-” “She’s just not coming.” Seiko growled, cringing briefly. She had finally said something, it was not the right something- she played it off as a joke.

“Perfect!” Kingsley sang, most likely putting two and two together. “You can come and let off some steam. There will be girls there who, you know, could actually like you back!” Seiko groaned into the receiver and thought about hanging up. “I don’t know what I like.” She looked away, maybe that was true, maybe it wasn’t. “I’ve never even kissed a girl, please, Kingsley.” “What? What about the time you called me crying on the phone about Natalie Dormer and your english teacher and those wei-” “It’s always been just a joke, a haha funny, ‘maybe Seiko doesn’t like boys’ clown joke,” Seiko looked miserably up at the ceiling, “None of it was ever meant to be serious.” Nothing ever was.

Kingsley sighed loudly, “Then it’s time.” He said resolutely, “Come to the club with me, it’ll be awesome, live a little, figure yourself out, don’t leave your old friend Kingsley to go alone to this thing.”

“Maybe.” “I think you mean yes. Yes, yes, yes,” He repeated the word like a mantra, “Say yes.” She sighed so deeply a bit of her soul might of left, “Fine.” “Yes!” The phone hung up after that.

Kingsley had become more strong-willed since back in third grade when he cried over dead bugs on the playground. Apparently he dated a Junior girl last year, briefly dropped out, stopped dating a junior girl, and now got fake IDs for a gay club. Life changed.

Seiko just looked the ceiling, eyes misting over. What if she did go? What if she spent her birthday money and drank and danced on sticky floors in the night? What if there was somebody in the smoky dark room with soft lips and warm hands that took her off to the side…

Well, but what if the gay girls didn’t like her either? Then it truly would be hopeless.

She sunk deep into her couch, the rest of her family was out at a family dinner night. She had refused to go, claiming a cold. Seiko lugged herself over to the family calendar and penned in an event: Seiko goes to Liza’s house for a sleepover, gone the whole night.

She went to bed before 8 O’Clock and thought about nothing.

———–

Friday.

There was an email in her inbox on friday, and not her school one, her old one, the one she almost forgot about. She only checked it as an old habit, one that ached like a scar and stuttered hotly in her chest.

She opened her email and something new was there.

Dear Seiko,

It felt like reading a ghost’s handwriting.

I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, it was all my fault. I was a coward, a fool, I wanted it so badly but I was so scared. I’m sorry.

Happy birthday, I needed to tell you that. I’m so sorry and happy birthday.

I’ve been thinking about you and your birthday and everything else.

Let me know if you ever want to try again. I promise I’ll be ready this time, I want to try again so badly Seiko. But I understand if you don’t.

Love,

Annalise.

Seiko shut her laptop with a loud ‘clack,’ tossed the entire second-hand computer under her bed, and hopped under the covers. She put her head under her pillow and screwed her eyes shut tight in order to force herself to sleep. Nothing but a pounding in her head greeted her.

She opened her computer again at 2am that night, it was dark and still as a tomb. The apartment below them was playing soft ocean music and someone was singing drunkenly on the street. Seiko couldn’t sleep, she didn’t want to sleep. She should sleep.

She wrote, despite herself.

Dear A,

I get it. I think I get it, your mom, right? Sure, yeah, I’m going out this Saturday, out-out, it probably won’t be your thing, a club probably isn’t the best starter-outing

But, yeah, we could try again.Promise you won’t see me and blow me off again? I’m pretty delicate (and dainty, can’t you tell?) and that kind of really fucking sucked like, 6 months ago

If you’re actually up for it, meet us at the gas station on 25th street, we’ll pick you up along with a few beers. Hope you don’t mind.

Yours,

Totally-Cool-and-Drinks-Beers-Now Seiko

She shouldn’t have done it. She did it.

She closes her laptop again and buried the thing at the bottom of a stack of laundry.

————-

She didn’t expect anything. She told herself there was nothing to expect. She was 16 and she made her own meals, did her own laundry, and tied her own damn shoes, she got to make her own decisions.

She could go out to places where they drank and smoked and didn’t care about small apartments that smelled like burnt sneakers and damp soil.

She was 16 now. And she didn’t need ‘fairy gates’ and pale victorian girl’s trapped in wedding-cake houses that were more fantastical than real. She didn’t need bedtime stories of captive princesses.

Seiko’s heart still stopped when she saw the lithe figure under the green fluorescent lights of the gas station. She wasn’t wearing pajamas for once. She had on a knee-length white tent dress with pale yellow accents, a soft blue knit jacket loosely buttoned up her front, and a pair of ankle-length brown boots. She clutched a saddlebag brown leather purse to her side.

They were all probably name-brand with designers Seiko couldn’t place and held by a girl with poise money couldn’t by. Annalise’s dark eyes followed each car nervously, standing with her whole body tense and bathed in the eerie glow of the musty gas station.

She looked out of place against the grungy pumps and compact convenience store, candy bars, tabloids, and energy drinks framing her loose twisting golden curls. She looked out of place and more nervous than Seiko had ever seen her.

But she had come.

“Is that your girl?” Kingsley whistled, he was driving his families yellow jeep with the air of someone with enough money to replace it. “She’s like one of those fancy haunted dolls you buy in the creepy part of ebay.” Seiko shot a glare at him, “She doesn’t get out much.” She explained shortly to him, “pull over.” They drove up to the spooked girl and she froze in place, eyes wide and mirror-like, Seiko quickly rolled down the window, “what’s up hot stuff?” She said with a slight cringe.

Annalise visibly relaxed, “Seiko.” Her eyes grew soft and a faint smile played across her features. “You came.” It was simple, a moment with no time at all, crystallized and still in a way that was beyond a gas station meeting in the dark with childhood friend’s going to a drinking party.

Seiko put her hand out, “Come on up.” Annalise beamed, a faint glow coming to her cheeks, “I’m ready to go out into the world.” She declared and lifted herself up tall, “I’m not even frightened.” “You should be,” Kingsley snorted, “The world’s a fucked up place.” Seiko rolled her eyes, “don’t listen to the cynic, he’s in his ‘try everything once and become an asshole’ phase.” “Thanks Sei, you’re a peach.”

Seiko gave a short laugh, “Come on,” she opened the car door to the back seats, “We’re giving you a crash course in the outside world. Zero to a hundred real quick.” “I’m ready!” Annalise pumped her hands in the air, “Show it to me.” They all grinned with the burn of youth in their guts and chill of the frosty winter in the air. It was time to do something new.

————

Dark trees, brilliant headlights, and a stretching highway unfolded around them in long plodding stretches, Seiko held her hands- popping each knuckle one finger at a time.

She vibrated in place gently, trying to push down any building giddiness, it’s just a club she told herself, just a party, just a girl. So what if it was a gay club? So what if I haven’t done anything like this before? It was thirty minutes to the nearest big-city, Springfield, and then thirty minutes back. But Kingsley had already assured them that they might need to uber their own way back.

“What’s an uber?” Annalise blinked a couple times, wide-eyed and tilting her head like a graceful meerkat leaning into their personal space. She hadn’t been convinced to put a seatbelt on yet.

Seiko and Kingsley exchanged a look, “Uhh,” they both fumbled. “A car you, pay for?”

Annalise grew a cheeky grin, “I’m kidding.” She pushed on Seiko’s shoulder, “I’m a shut-in, not a luddite.” They laughed, passed around a few unmemorable words, and turned the car’s speakers on high. They sang along to Kingsley’s father’s playlists, belting out the Beach Boys best hits when appropriate.

“If everybody had an ocean

Across the U. S. A.

Then everybody’d be surfin’

Like Californi-a”

No one in that car had surfed a day in their life. They turned the song up for a reprise.

Some of the worries melted from Seiko’s gut, it was the night for this, it was the night for her, and Kingsley, and most of all Annalise. They could eat the world whole- chew on the rinds, crunch the mountains into crumbs, and swallow the oceans like candy-flavored cough syrup.

They sped across blank landscape, passing the speed limit at several points and tapping the ceiling with a kiss at every train track. They drove until a glittering mass of high buildings arose from the treetops like a sudden witch’s hut in an otherwise cursed black forest. Sprawling neighborhoods, actual indoor malls, and house lights that didn’t turn off at 9pm came into view.

Seiko took deep even breaths, “We close?” She bit her lip, “are they even expecting us?” Kingsley rolled his eyes and turned off into a highway exit, “Chill,” he put his hand out, “Relax. Everyone will take care of you, they’re cool.” “Take care of us?” Annalise knit her brow together.

Kingsley looked back in the mirror, “You know, like murder.” “No Kingsley.” Seiko groaned.

They made several turns down dinghy second-hand neighborhood roads and Seiko popped her fingers again. The neighborhoods had low gutters, indistinct sidewalks, yellow street lights the color of stale mountain dew, and five story buildings on either side- and this wasn’t even the downtown district. They were as far from Rogers as the afterlife was to the newly born.

Kingsley started humming, “here we go baby.”

They slowed down in front of a boxy cement building with glowing square windows and too many people mulling about outside. Most of them were holding lit cigarettes, chatting, and relaxed as a crowd of crows at a carcass. One of the groups were sipping out of red solo cups and watching a young man in a beanie attempt a skateboard trick.

Seiko gulped as her eyes flicked over the cups, she had tried a few beers with the soccer girls before and even a shot of whiskey she immediately coughed up through her nose.

But nothing like this.

Several cars were parked haphazardly off to the side, a jigsaw puzzle of devil-may care line-ups, a couple of stranger’s raised their heads as Kingsley’s yellow jeep pulled up.

“Y’all ready?” Kingsley winked.

Seiko set her jaw and put on a brave face on, “Let’s rock.” Kingsley just chuckled, “Alright then.” He parked, Seiko exchanged a look with Annalise.

‘You ready?’ she mouthed to the other girl and Annalise just gave a stony-faced nod. She sat up straight and threw her arms up, “Let’s murder it!” She shouted at full-volume and they laughed recklessly in reply.

Kingsley was the first one to jump out, boneless and tall as the buildings themselves. “Who has a drink for me and these lovely ladies?” He waved and some people must have recognized him as he was greeted with a brief ‘ayyyyy.’

Seiko took another moment to get her legs to work, closing her eyes, imagining the whole night laid out in front of her like a winding silver road, her feet pounding on it up and up and out. She hopped out of the car without looking back.

Seiko stumbled forward and a few people looked her over, she gave a lopsided-grin, “Sooo, there’s drinks here?”

“Sure kid,” a girl with a nose ring motioned for a guy wearing a hawaiian t-shirt.

Annalise followed her out like a lost shadow, bumping into Seiko and grabbing at her sleeve, Seiko just gave her a reassuring smile. ‘We got this,’ she mouthed in her general direction, Annalise’s expression had slipped slightly like a shifting curtain over a disturbed zoo animal.

“Yeah.”

Kingsley whooped from the makeshift parking lot, patted some hands, and handed Seiko a sort of ‘jungle juice’ he called it. She wrinkled her nose at the sweet slippery smell and fluorescent redness.

“I guess…” She gave it a long hard look.

“Oh no, none for me, not yet.” Someone tried to offer Annalise a drink too, but she politely turned it down, her cheeks paler than usual and face a little stricken.

“One of you has to break your alcohol cherry tonight,” Kingsley said loudly for the benefit of the crowd, like a showman at the fairgrounds, some other kids cheered back. “Go for it girl,” a young woman with a mohawk cackled.

Seiko looked over to Annalise, her sweeping dark eyes, small wrists, preened curls, and the upright way she carried herself. Everything.

Seiko took a deep breath, held her nose, and drank deeply, it was like every punch juice she ever had but sweeter and with a strong bitter undercurrent. She squeezed her eyes shut, blinked up, and stared into the starless night sky until it all went down.

—————

Colors and lights blurred together, sound thumped in the very center of her being like a drumbeat to her blinking eyes and swirling thoughts. Everything was slightly blurred around the edges, like a developing photo that had been shifted at the very last second.

The world was brighter, busier, and more jumbled than ever before, Seiko had a huge liquid smile spread across her face. They had made it to the club, she couldn’t remember how or why they made it, but they were there. Seiko was sitting on some black leather couches with a group of people she hadn’t known an hour ago.

In the distant past she had entered an apartment, played her first drinking game, won at flip cup, lost spectarcurly at king’s cup. She drank the whole regal cup after that to a series of chanting that began and ended with ‘chug.’ That’s when things got a little wonky around the edges.

She was sitting, smiling, and soaking in the room, there were girls moving with girls and boys whispering to each other in private corners. Couples laughed, held hands, and found places to dig skin into skin like holy burial grounds. There was a sapling plant in her chest being watered for the first time, a sunbeam to people who never seen the sky before.

She blinked slowly, “This place is great.” That might not have been the first time she said that, “Really great.” Some girl she didn’t know was placing water in front of her, “drink up.” She smiled and watched her carefully. The girl had sparkle star berets in her stiff brown hair, a neon-troll shirt, and a thousand brightly colored bracelets. Seiko thought they started talking when she complimented the girl’s purple leather pants and somehow ended up here. Another girl sat across from them in all black and ignored the crowds for watching the multi-colored ceiling lights instead.

Seiko slowly reached for the water and chugged. It was good, lot’s of things were really good.

“Oh, there you are,” a familiar voice broke into her headspace.

Seiko turned to see a blonde girl leaning over them, trying to avoid other people swaggering behind her as they passed behind the couch. She looked perplexed, Seiko turned her smile on Annalise and reached for her.

“Annalise,” she hummed, “You look so pretty tonight, those red lights are hitting just right.” She hiccuped, “Wish I had my camera.” Annalise shook her head, “I thought I lost you.” The girl (Kendra something?) looked between them curiously, paused, and then scooted over, “Take a seat, we’re just taking a break here.” Annalise exhaled and squished into the place next to them, her eyes flitting over everything and anything.

“Had a drink yet?” Seiko asked and Annalise just shook her head in reply.

“Shame.” A girl with a dark mohawk and a cat-like curl to her lips said, sitting crossed legged on the opposite couch. She reached into her pocket and took out a cherry-red lighter in the shape of a tongue.

Seiko opened her mouth to say something, but a high-pitched yelp interrupted. Seiko turned, Annalise had reeled back, kicking her legs into the table between them and climbing the couch backward. Her eyes were huge. “Is smoking allowed in here?” The girl shrugged, nonplussed, “I know for damn sure this isn’t.” She took out a rolled up piece of paper and put it between her lips, leaning her head back and exposing an expanse of smooth skin. Seiko had the sudden urge to lick it.

“What is it?” Annalise watched her movements, lips parted and shaking anxiety apparent in her movements.

The girl grinned smoothly, “A happy stick. Sweet Mary Jane.” That was pretty obvious.

Annalise just nodded slowly, mouth falling open as the girl flicked the lighter to life, the little flame danced in place. Annalise’s eyes followed it closely as the girl lit the end of her reefer, Annalise swallowed, “My mom always warned me about that stuff.” The girl took a deep inhale, it smelled sweet and thick. Sne answered on the exhale with a huge plume wafting up, “don’t worry about it.” She grinned, “momma knows best.” Annalise watched the whole process in silence, waiting for something. Seiko herself got distracted and started playing ‘Hand Slap’ with Kendra. She kept losing.

“Your reflexes suck,” Kendra frowned, “Are you even trying?” Seiko got her hands slapped for the fifth time, a red welt forming on the top of them. She screwed her face up in concentration, “You’re more sober than me, it’s not fair.” “Drink some more water!”

Seiko rolled her eyes and complied, then a voice spoke up.

“Could I try it? I mean, if that’s okay.” Seiko swiveled around, alert, she almost forgot Annalise was sitting there, neatly tucked away in the corner and watching.

The girl, who’s name was Mikenna, slid her eyes across the room as cool as oil slicks. Her mouth split open in another grin, “Sure thing.” She languidly handed over the blunt, “Don’t inhale too deep the first time, sip it like a kiss.” Annalise’s cheeks pinked, shoulders drawing together and taking the blunt with jerky, questioning movements. She nodded briefly.

“Like this?” Annalise brought it to her lips tentatively.

“Sure.” Mikenna gestured widely.

Annalise paused, thinking for a moment, she took a long inhale in the way you give a firm handshake, solid and focused. She broke out into a sputtering cough the next second, Seiko patted her on the back as she hacked into her fist. “Slower!” Mikenna instructed.

Annalise squeezed her eyes shut, brought the blunt back up again, barely parted her lips and took a drag. The smoke came out of her mouth in a snaking puff, winding and soft, she doesn’t cough this time.

“You got it!”

“Woo! She’s an art kid now,” Annalise gave a brief whoop and they all laughed. Annalise took another hit, watching the little burning end the way preachers watch baptisms, reverent. She never took her eyes off the thing as she and Mikenna passed it back and forth, taking a series of hits. Seiko observed mutley as her agoraphobic friend learned how to smoke weed, she watched the plumes of blooming smoke and Annalise’s pupils expanding like bursting fireworks. Seiko took another shot of whiskey and laughed along with the others at some joke.

Her head lulled back in place and time became thick white ink in the back of her mind, spotty and barely there.

“Let’s dance.” A voice breached her blank thoughts, sudden as a lightning strike, Annalise stood over Seiko, red-eyed and limp-jointed.

“Hmm?”

“Dance,” Annalise smiled and reached for Seiko’s hand, her fingers trailing out from the abyss and grasping for her. “Out there.” Their hands slid together and Annalise tugged gently on Seiko.

“Okay,” she replied simply, the water was running through her system and her senses were coming back into place like lost puzzle pieces. Luckily, she still had enough goose left in her to let herself be led to the dance floor.

Annalise was giggling and covering her mouth, squeezing Seiko’s hand like it was a secret between them, Seiko felt weightless again. They wedged themselves onto the edge of the dance floor, a horde of shaking bodies jerking back and forth around them. The music pounded wordlessly and they fit together on the sticky white floors face to face.

They giggled for another moment before starting to rock back and forth experimentally, leaving enough room for Jesus but catching each other’s eyes and smiling. They hovered closer, shimmying and throwing their hands up to the beat.

They swayed and touched lightly and tried to collapse into something more than ‘almost.’

The breath left Seiko’s body when someone bumped into her and she stumbled into Annalise, crashing into her and their bodies coming together like peanut butter and jelly bread slices. Annalise didn’t pull away, instead intertwining their hands and pulling her close. Their bodies slid into one and a melting heat coursed through Seiko like river rapids.

She drew her eyes up and they’re rolling along to the music, sandwiched together and mixing like shaken martinis. Seiko exhaled through her nose, something feverish and prickling across her skin, their legs slotted and chests touched lightly.

She wet her lips, “this is good.” It felt dumb to say out loud, she glanced up shyly at Annalise’s loose hair and bright eyes, “You look good.” Her hands felt dumb, her feet felt dumb, and her head swam with dumb. The rest of her was completely electric.

Annalise tapped their foreheads together, “You too,” She said gently, wrapping her arms around Seiko’s neck, sweaty skin melding and eyes burning. “Thanks for inviting me out.” She leaned closer with each word, “It’s even better than I thought.” She was a hair away, sticky music and rhythm consuming them on all sides.

“No problem,” her voice cracked, she grinned up, “I just can’t believe you smoked a joint.” Annalise laughed, lighting up like a firecracker, “I just hoped to get up the nerve to get you alone.” Seiko’s heart beat so fast and hard she thought it might crash through her chest and out into the bloody world, abandoning her there forever. Her whole body froze despite the grinding and the pooling warmth inside her. “You didn’t need to do all that, I think you’re,” she floundered, mouth gaping open and closed, “…cool.” She finished weakly.

Annalise giggled and her breath is hot against Seiko’s cheek, “I think you’re amazing.” She felt the touch of almost-skin against skin, “and I’ve been waiting too long for too many things.” The actual words were drowned out by the thrumming music, but their lips crushed together with the force of honey bees into flower hearts, ready to suck the pollen dry. Gentle and needy, the first touch is rainwater against burnt hilltops.

Her lips are slightly parched, warm and pulsing like a drumbeat, it didn’t matter that they were in a dim club in the middle of a distant city with nothing but strangers around them. They kiss, clumsily, forcefully, Seiko’s thoughts jammed like cars at a traffic light and she melted into the moment.

Annalise’s hands went through Seiko’s hair and Seiko wound her arms around the taller’s girls waist and pulled her closer. They deepened the kiss in the flurry of music and sweet heaving bodies. Little noises caught in Seiko’s throat and it’s a tunnel she’s falling down, down, down into with no safety rope, tilting her chin up and getting lost.

The union was wet and sloppy, hot as fevers and bruising her chaste lips, everything a mix of sensation threading together in one infinite moment. Annalise kissed like she wanted to eat her, hands running down Seiko’s whole body and teeth nipping at jawline.

It was better than she imagined.

Annalise had never been outside her house, Seiko had never named wanting anything at all. Wanting was for people with names in the yearbook and clothes from anywhere than a thrift shop. And it was all fire ants on a honey hill, kittens rolling in catnip, turnedo storms on flat plains, none of the embrace was elegant but it really didn’t need to be.

A blur of lips and grinding and wetness, it felt like hours, someone told her later that it was hours. Seiko eventually broke the entwinement in a fit of panic and went to choke down some water. They found each other again after a brief recovery, retiring to the nearest couch and falling into one another.

Seiko burst with the world and it burst back.

Her mouth became puffy and cracked with chapped heat, neck littered with tiny purple swelling marks and everything aching with pouring light. It was all a wish of wish she had never managed before.

They took an uber home and parted with a kiss that broke her in two, Seiko walked home from Greenbriar on foot and didn’t feel a single drop of cold. She was electric.

——————

Seiko woke up the next morning and she was not electric anymore, in fact, she was very much grey thunderstorms with no lightning. Very very bleak. And loud.

She groaned and turned over in bed, groping around to close her blinds and sleep forever. Her head hurt, her knee hurt where she she kicked a chair, her back hurt, and her breath tasted like sour candy left out to rot in the sun.

She had gone out last night.

Seiko rolled over and reached for the small trash can by her bed, she sat there and felt queasy for at least a couple minutes before stumbling up to go find some water. Mercifully, her mother didn’t come check on her that morning and Seiko returned to her bed unhindered.

It was hard to process the night. It was hard to even guess why she did the things she did.

The other part of her was amazed she did them at all, was it real? Had she kissed a girl? Had she touched her hair and felt the swell of music and warmth inside her? What was that night real? Seiko replayed the moments over and over in head, even the blurry parts that were more sensation than images. But the kiss was real.

She sighed into her pillow and was helpless against the next pull of sleep, dreaming soft things in fits until her headache slowly faded into just an aching pulse. It was well past noon when she finally managed to drag herself from bed again, shower, and feel like any sort of person.

Seiko sat cross-legged on her bed in a fluffy towel, opening her email to check on her grades and any Monday assignments (she prayed she hadn’t forgot any).

Instead, she felt her soul leave her body as she read the worst email header of her life: Goodbye.

Seiko could barely process the word, much less who is it was from. It had unicorn in the name.

Goodbye.

Thank you for everything Seiko, it means more to me than you will ever know. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Go live your life, forget me, know that I am so sorry and forget me.

Love,

Seiko’s eyes went wide, she sat there numbly for a full minute.

“Of course she would,” Seiko gnashed her teeth, “Of course that fakey psychic witch would,” something burned in her center, “Enough is enough Madame Lynne.” She said the name mockingly and burst to her feet, only swaying slightly in place.

Enough was enough.

She wrote out a quick manifesto and threw on some new clothes: children don’t belong in cages Madame L. Children deserve to see the world and make their own mistakes.

It sounded reasonable enough to her, she could start with reason at least and then resort to other things later.

Seiko still had to wait another hour before she was less groggy, less achy, and less panicky in her fritzing nerves. She knew what she had to do nonetheless.

When she finally left her room to stuff a sandwich down her throat and find her shoes her mom was waiting in the living room. She was sitting on the couch absently watching the TV, “Did you have a fun night?” She asked without looking up.

“Oh… yeah,” Seiko just nodded, “It was pretty great.” Her mom’s sober crows-feet eyes looked up at her. She spoke dryly, “Learn anything?” Seiko made a non-committed gesture, “Maybe.” She frowned, “I think so.” Her mom just sighed and shook her head, “I saw you put your shoes away in the bread box when you got in. At 5 O’clock.” “5 O’clock,” Seiko repeated, “Thanks, I’ll go get them. Also,” she hesitated, deciding whether to go all in or not, “Also, I might call in sick Monday.” Her mom narrowed her eyes, “Oh?” Seiko just nodded and tried haltingly to explain, “I have something important to do. It might… need a lot of attention.” Her mom gave her a piercing looking, all folded brows and a discerning stare. She lifted her chin up, “Are you okay?” “Yeah,” Seiko lifted her chin up, “Thanks mom. Thanks for everything.” She shuffled over to kiss her mom on the cheek, her mom blinked rapidly in reply.

“Oh my God,” she turned to her in horror, “How bad is it?” Seiko just gave a weak smile, “I need to go help a friend.” She waved, “I promise it’s important.” “Important enough to miss school?” Her mom kept frowning.

She gave her a thumbs up, “You betcha.” Her mom shook her head but waved her toward the door, “Don’t make it a habit.”

She shoved her shoes on, grabbed a bagged sandwich, and stuffed her fully charged cell phone into her inside pocket. She might need it. She turned as she reached the door, “I love you!”

Her mom just gaped, “Jesus, be careful.” Seiko’s mom said forcefully, but didn’t stop her as she raced out the door. The older woman tutted to herself, “Wild girl… Be home for dinner!”

Seiko streaked down the apartment steps and back into the light.

———-

Seiko once again made her way to the wedding-cake house on Townsend Street, paperless this time and taller than she had ever been. It was quiet, hushed with grey misty skies and yellow parched winter grass.

It hadn’t snowed in a few weeks and everything was frosted and bare across the naked trees and shuttered houses. It felt appropriate as Seiko made her way up the hill.

“Miss Lynne,” she practiced with herself, “I know you might not think it’s any of my business, but there’s something important I have to say,” she drew a deep breath, “I know you have your daughter’s best interests at heart, probably, maybe, but locking her away is absolutely the wrong thing! She’s a person, not a mint-condition action figure, last night was good for her!”

She mused over the words, rearranging them little by little, “She’s a young woman, not a fancy tea set to be put aside in a cupboard! Take it from me, I’m mostly-functioning, I mean I get decent grades. I mean, I’m allowed to roam around and my parents trust me to not mess up too bad. That’s good!”

She couldn’t quite make the right arguments, even to herself, but hadn’t she been trekking around neighborhoods on her bike since she before she could remember? Hadn’t she been fine? Wasn’t she evidence enough? Seiko couldn’t even imagine what Madame Lynne had to worry about in a rich neighborhood like hers anyway.

The house came up much faster than Seiko would have liked, all too familiar and yet alien at the same time. She stood on her tiptoes to peer through the fence and over the hedge, all the curtains were drawn on the house’s long Georgian windows. Seiko held her breath at the sight, pursing her lips together and inching her way toward the gate, there was no turning back now.

She touched the cold iron latch of the fairygate, resting her hands on it’s clasp and waiting for something. She closed her eyes and pushed it soundlessly open, it was time to go in. Seiko kept her back broom-straight and marched up the drive before she could talk herself out of it. She had been their paper girl, maybe that meant something.

She knocked on the door three times, jaw set and resolve hard as a cherry pit in her teeth.

“Okay, you see,” she muttered, practicing one last time, “It’s time to face the facts… This is no way to prepare your daughter for college!” Parents cared about that, they were really into colleges.

She knocked on the door again.

She counted to ten, no reply. Seiko started to huff, “Hello?” She called, “Not answering me is really unnecessary, I just want to talk!” Seiko was starting to find this childish, she screwed her face up and stomped on the hard porch. “Locking kids away isn’t good! And if you keep this up, well, I might just… call somebody. Somebody you won’t like!” She threatened, wondering if she’d actually need to prove Annalise was being mistreated to the cops.

She wondered how she might actually change things, how a conversation like ‘I think you should switch your entire parenting style’ went.

Seiko waited five more minutes with no reply.

She began to circle the house, tapping on the glass and trying to peer in, “Miss Lynne?” All the curtains were still drawn and the house was quiet as a graveyard angel, a sleeping beast to the world. “Annalise?”

Seiko circled the house again, coming back to the front door. She almost went cross-eyed staring at the big white doors, waiting for something. Seiko weighed her next move carefully, holding a single idea in place and poking at it.

There was no other choice.

“I’m coming in now.” She called out as loud as she dared, voice wobbling slightly, she turned the golden door handle and the back of her neck prickled. It wasn’t locked, the door swung open easily and revealed a dim empty house, faceless and unlit.

She gulped, this was the part in horror movies where the protagonist needed to run away, where you yelled at your TV ‘just don’t go on!’ The part where you wonder if they’re idiots or not.

Seiko took a step inside, shoulders hunched and eyes sweeping the gloomy foyer, it held a grand-staircase, blank white walls, and a short hall leading to a massive dining room. The stairs had thick pale carpet, grand wooden handrails, and a shadowed upper story. It all lacked many personal items, just a large plumy plant in the corner and coat rack off to the side.

The house smelled of dust and musky green things.

Seiko took a few more shaky footsteps inside, if the fence was the fairy gate this was surely the witch’s house.

“Anyone home?” She lifted her chin up, heart in her throat and eyes combing the emptiness, “Madame Lynne, I just have a few things to say.”

“How few?” She jerked around, someone was standing behind the door, “We prefer our deliveries outside paper girl.” Before Seiko could react, a clear crystal ball was raised in Madame Lynne’s outstretched hands, it caught the light for just a moment. A rainbow speckled across Seiko’s cheek as the ball was hoisted above her.

She didn’t even get a second to cry out, Madame Lynne brought the crystal ball down hard, pain bloomed at the top of Seiko’s head and shock sunk in like gushing ice water. She crumpled to her knees and her vision quickly spotted black.

She thought she heard a strangled cry from up above, but the world dimmed into a nothingness and was gone just as quickly.

——————–

There were voices, voices, piercing light, and an acute acrid taste in Seiko’s mouth. Seiko wanted to groan and roll away into some distant corner of sleep again.

“This is for your own good,” a voice snapped sharply.

“You don’t know what’s good for me!” a voice, Annalise, it must have been Annalise, hissed back, “This all for you.” There was a growl and a dark undercurrent to her words.

Seiko cracked her eyes open, she flinched, a pain was nestling deep in her forehead, a cruel pounding that thrashed around her frontal lobe, and this one wasn’t from a hangover. Dried blood ran down the left side of her face, making her skin stiff and eyelashes clump together when she blinked. Seiko squinted into the room around her.

It was bright, bright as flash bombs, pure white light shone from up above- a crystal chandelier hanging off a gilded silver fixture, casting diamond streaks of light and long shadows on the walls. The room itself looked like a grand bedroom, a dresser and vanity were pushed off to the side on a silvery grey carpet. Thick curtains covered the windows and the air was warm with blasting furnace heat, Seiko tensed, a large circle was drawn in the very center of the room. It looked rough, homemade, and wet, crude symbols were drawn along the edges and two blurry figures perched just outside the lines. The room smelled like unseen smoke and rotting things.

Seiko’s lips curled back, she tried to move her hands and found them tightly bound. She looked down, her wrists were tied crushingly to the arms of a high-backed chair. She had been captured.

“What the fuck?” She rocked back and forth in place, “WHAT THE FUCK.” Madame Lynne turned, she was wearing one of her dark shawls and a maroon head-covering. She looked over to Seiko like she was an unwanted chunk of mold on a piece of sweet bread.

“Who does this?” Seiko struggled against her restraints, “What the hell is this?”

“Seiko, stay calm, wait,” She looked up sharply, Annalise was sitting across from her, wearing a light blue nightdress and worry lines across every surface of her face. She was similarly tied up to a tall kitchen chair with sailor’s rope and immobilized. She was noticeably bedraggled, somehow paler and more worn, like a ghost of herself. There was something dented about her cheeks, shadowed and lifeless. Her were eyes dull and tired, a strip of tape or maybe plastic was stuck on her left cheek.

“Annalise!” She called out and tried to rock forward, she turned on Madame Lynne hotly, “Child services would definitely have your ass for this,” She narrowed her eyes, “What is it, some sort of occult thing?” She glanced at the circle, “Like, moms sacrificing their kids to satan kind of fucked-up?” She watched Annalise look bitterly over to her mom, gaze dark and unflinching. “She’s not my mom.”

“Of course I am,” Madame Lynne waved her hand dismissively, “What else would I be?” She snorted, then swiftly turned toward Seiko, stalking over to her in a sweeping shapeless dress and with outstretched clawed hands, “And you, the delivery girl,” she licked her lips, “What were you thinking? Smoke, really? Really?! Do you even know what you’ve done?” She stood back up, “Of course not, little fool.” Seiko rolled her eyes with a special type of gumption, “It was just weed, Jesus. It’s not going to kill her.” Madame Lynne lunged forward, one thin hand grabbing Seiko’s chin and jerking her head around to look her directly in the eye. “You don’t know anything.” She whispered acidicly, expression wide and empty, “You don’t what you’ve done.” Seiko sucked in a short breath, “I know you can’t treat her like this. I know this is probably pretty fucking illegal.” Madame Lynne’s lips twitched up, she released Seiko roughly and righted yourself. “You think the law means anything here?” A type of feral humor crossed her mismatched features, “Mortal enforcement wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Mortal…?” Seiko furrowed her brow, “Okay, I guess you’re definitely an alien or some sort of weird demon then. Good to know.” Madame Lynne turned to her slowly, “no, no,” she sang, “just a normal psychic woman,” she looked up at the ceiling, tone suddenly turning weary and sour. “It’s a story you’ve probably heard before.” “Oh trust me, I bet I haven’t.” Seiko tugged at her bonds, trying to loosen the grip just enough to slip her wrist out. “Try me.”

“Wait, wait, no,” Annalise shook her head vigorously, eyes wide, looking adrift and slightly sick to her stomach. “It’s not what you think… it’s not important.” Madame Lynne gave a cackling laugh, “Oh yes, you’ve heard it before. A woman who desperately wants a daughter, someone to hold and care for.” Her eyes looked misty and distant, lost somewhere. “And to care for her when she’s old and unwell.”

Seiko noticed Madame Lynne reaching into her pocket, absently retrieving something curved, pointed, and glittering from one of the deep folds. Seiko’s breath hitched, it looked like an item from an assassins medieval weapons set, a knife half the size of Seiko’s forearm balanced in the older woman’s hand.

Sweat gathered on the back of Seiko’s neck, she pulled on the ropes again.

“You wanted a daughter,” her eyes darted back to the knife in her hands, “So you had Annalise. Yeah, that’s how it works.” Madame Lynne shook her head with forlorn. “I couldn’t.” She sighed and rounded the witches circle in the bright room. “It was not in my fortunes.” Seiko frowned, tilting her head to the side. “So you adopted a daughter just to fuck with her later?” Annalise’s whole face collapsed, she twisted forward desperately, “Please… Seiko.” It sounded small, “I don’t want you to… I don’t…” She choked slightly, like a fish drowning on land.

Seiko shot her a concerned look and then turned back to the psychic. “You didn’t have to tie me to a chair for this speech.” Madame Lynne’s lips curled back, “I thought you should know what you’re going to part of.” She presented a cheerless smile. “I couldn’t have a daughter.” She continued, “So I made one.” “… Okay,” she looked back to Annalise who didn’t meet her eyes.

“I poured my love and my breath and my soul into paper and wax, pasting her together one layer at a time. A perfect beautiful daughter that I could hold and care for,” Madame Lynne sniffed, Seiko still wasn’t processing this. “The Old Ones saw me. They saw my heart’s desire, my greatest wish, all my work, and gave pity.” Madame Lynne looked up at the ceiling, a certain reverence there. “They brought my daughter to life for me.” Seiko eyes went wide, “What?” She squinted, “What?” Madame Lynne closed her eyes, “They breathed life into my beautiful paper doll.” She sighed, “and brought life to the lifeless.” Seiko sputtered, “Iike Pinocchio?”

Madame Lynne looked back to her, unsmiling. “No.”

Annalise gave a weak, sad hiccup of a laugh. “My nose doesn’t grow.” Madame Lynne tutted, “She could walk and talk, feel, learn, think, grow, live as a real girl.” Seiko’s heart started to beat faster, this was too strange. “Come on,” she relaxed into a tight smile, “Seriously? You want me to believe Annalise is some sort of… paper… person?” She moved her wrists back and forth, loosening them, “That’s crazy!”

Seiko should have come sooner to this nuthouse and done something.

“Crazy?” Madame Lynne barked a laugh, “Of course. Of course!” She turned around in a tight circle to face her daughter, “Crazy.” She reached for the tape on Annalise’s sunken cheek, “Crazy… Do you know what smoke does to paper?” She grabbed the strip. “To wax?” Seiko glared, “What the hell are you doing?” “Weakens it!” Madame Lynne yanked at the strip, a vicious tearing sound filled the room.

“No!” Seiko called out breathlessly as a chunk of Annalise’s skin was ripped away in one grisly tug. But no blood came out. No fluid, no muscle revealed or skin at all to behold.

Annalise cried out in pain, but underneath that layer of skin was just another layer: paper white, smooth, and blemishless.

Seiko gulped deeply, “You shouldn’t… do that.” She said weakly, her entire world turning upside down.

“A paper girl,” the psychic continued darkly, “can’t go out in the sun without her wax melting, can’t go into the rain without sagging, can’t touch the snow without disintegrating. Can’t eat, can’t drink,” She snarled, “I have done nothing but keep my daughter safe!”

The blood drained from Seiko’s face, she glanced between Annalise and her mom, trying to parse through this. She focused on the other girl, “Annalise…?” It was soft, a question, probing at her gently.

Annalise looked miserably down at her knees and a few long seconds passed, “I’m not her thing.” She whispered quietly, “I have my own thoughts, wants, my own life.” She jerked her head up, “I’m not her thing!”

Seiko’s mouth fell open. “No… you’re not?” She was still trying to wrap her mind around being able to make a person out of paper and wax. Madame Lynne waved at Annalise dismissively, “We’ve been over this. I needed to keep you safe,” She exhaled, “but this one.” She turned on Seiko with her nasty gleaming knife, “this one is going to change everything for us.” Seiko leaned back in her chair, “Maybe… plastic wrap?” She offered with a feeble smile, “We could laminate her.” “Haha,” the woman’s voice echoed, “You always were a funny one.” She leered, “Maybe Annalise will inherit that when you give your life for hers.”

“No?” Seiko squeaked shrilly.

“I was against such things before, but well, you broke in.” She laughed, “Who can a blame a homeowner for defending herself?” Seiko jerked her head back and forth, looking between the two women, “Annalise?” She asked in a shrill voice, sweat beading down her temples, “Haha, jokes up, nice one guys. I’ve learned my lesson, no more coming in uninvited.” Madame Lynne bent her head down, “Bone and blood.” She started to chant, “Bone and blood, bone and blood, take this flesh and take this soul, take from the corporeal make to the core, b-” “You can’t do this!” Seiko shrieked, the knife was coming carefully toward her unmarked forearm, ready to sink it’s teeth in. “You can’t make her a real girl through me!”

Madame Lynne wasn’t listening.

“No,” a thunk came from across the room, the chair across from Seiko careening over in one loud crash. Seiko and Madame Lynne snapped to attention. “You can’t.”

Annalise had ripped one hand free of the ropes, wrenching her skin to ribbons and using what was left to untie the other. She rolled out of her chair, raising to her feet with a trail of uncoiled paper hanging loosely from her left forearm.

Madame Lynne straightened up with a forced smile, “What are you doing, darling?” Annalise lifted her chin high in the air, “What I should have done a long time ago.” She went sprinting across the room, spitting and tearing like a feral cat on the attack. “Put. That. Down!”

They crashed into each other. Mother and daughter, wrestling for a silver glittering knife.

Seiko wiggled against her own harsh ropes, ugly red abscesses forming along her forearm as she struggled, she managed to loosen one of her hands enough to yank her palm out. “Ah!” A burn scorched across her skin, she gritted her teeth and tugged through the pain.

Meanwhile, Annalise grappled with her mother, clawing at her face with her battered hand and a fiery hissing force, a battle cry spilling out of her from years of bottled grief.

“I’m not yours!” She roared over and over, “You can’t have me!”

Seiko ripped at her shackles, freeing one hand and fumbling with the other tight knot with shaking fingers and breathless movements. She unbound her wrist in one swift tug and bolted to her feet instinctually, ignoring the throbbing in her arms and head.

“Annalise!” She called, voice rasping and heart pounding as if it might collapse in her chest like a straw birds nest in a hurricane. She reached out, “I’m free, we’re free, Annalise!”

Annalise glanced up from where she wrestled her mom. She looked down again, gave a final roar and tore the knife out of her mom’s hand. She took the weapon in hand, lifted it high, and threw it viciously across the room. It lodged into the wood of the house with a twang and Annalise leapt to her feet.

“I’m so sorry,” she wailed and reached for Seiko, jumping up as Madame Lynne dove for the knife again.

Seiko grabbed Annalise’s good hand. “Don’t even worry.” She tried to smile, “I’ve had weirder nightmares than this.”

Annalise cringed, “It’s not over yet.”

They throw themselves at the door and toward escape. Seiko twisted the lock open and they shoot out into the dark hall with furious feet and numb legs. Annalise led them through the house, turning down a hallway and toward the quiet grand staircase. “Down, down, down.” Annalise yanked them down the stairs at a breakneck pace, running as a wordless howl chased their progress toward the blurry grey outside.

Seiko overtook her as they reached the front door, “We’re going to get you out of here.” She promised, “You’re going to be out of this house for good.” “Seiko,” Annalise squeezed Seiko’s hand painfully as Seiko tore the door open, spilling in weak wintery light. “Seiko, what she said was… true.” Annalise relented disjointedly, looking down at her feet. “I’m not… like you.”

“I don’t care,” Seiko said fiercely, “You can be a girl made of snow or cat litter or whatever the hell, but I know you’re a person! And you don’t have to stay here,” She stepped closer to her, eyes softening, “Not if you don’t want to.” Annalise looked between Seiko, the blurry outside, and then back up to her wailing mother upstairs. She set her jaw, voice thick with brimming emotion, “I don’t want to stay here.” Seiko pulled them out the door, out into the bleak day and the smooth path out, out, out. They made their way down the driveway.

“But,” Annalise followed limply behind, mind obviously whirling as they ran. “Where will I live?” She asked the open air suddenly, “Where will I go?” “Move now,” Seiko yanked open the fairy gate, “Think later.” They only had a moment to hold their breath on the precipice of the yard before a banging came from behind them. Madame Lynne burst out the front door and flung herself onto the porch rail, hair falling down in black waves and eyes bulging. “If you leave you can’t come back!” She spat, “You’re nothing but paper, I won’t have you after this.”

Annalise hovered at the edge of the property, eyes unmoving and clouded. She drew a deep breath, “I’d rather be nothing than be your ornament!” She shouted firmly, squeezed Seiko’s hand and then pulled them both through the gate. Then they were running again, panting, howling, skipping down the sidewalk toward the highway and out of Greenbriar. Out, out, out.

Madame Lynne didn’t follow.

“Wow! That was amazing, awesome, fantastic Annalise,” Seiko cheered as they danced into the middle of the empty road, hot with adrenaline and a vicious type of joy. “You did it.” Annalise looked up, smiling wearily, “It’s over.” She sighed, “it’s over.”

Seiko vibrated, “You can live in my room, I’ll roll a mat out. My mom won’t be happy, but I’m sure once I explain it to her she’ll have to. And we can sleep over and I’ll make pancakes in the morning.” Annalise was slowing down, dark eyes looking up the sky. “Seiko,” she said slowly, evenly. “This is everything I ever wanted.” Seiko glanced back at her and laughed, “Don’t say that yet, you haven’t even had the

pancakes.” Her thoughts were already going over logistics, Annalise had missed a lot of school and a lot of socializing. It would have to be a process.

But that could be handled, it could all be handled.

And then a fat wet snowdrop fell. Wet and soggy and spiked with ice, just like the downpour all those years ago with two young girls and a missing earring. The rain fell.

“No,” Seiko looked up, the world slowing into a single tiny moment. “No.” She turned, Annalise’s cheek had smeared into a wet slushy white paste, flesh sinking in like a deflating party balloon. Seiko’s eyes went wide with horror.

“Hurry,” she pushed on Annalise, “Let’s get you to a shelter. I have some… paper mache at the house, I can fix that.” Annalise just shook her head and stayed in place, more heavy droplet’s hit her forehead and shoulders, tearing at her gently.

“Go.” Her voice was wispy, watery with unshed tears, “There’s no place for me out there, I have no money, no family, no home… Go Seiko, live your life, live, you deserve it.” She stood in place, “just… remember me.” Seiko staggered backward, grabbing at Annalise. “You deserve a fucking life too,” tears stung at her eyes, she pushed on Annalise to move, to walk, but the other girl didn’t budge. Seiko gnashed her teeth, “We didn’t… we didn’t get you of there just to end here. You deserve it so much, look at me,” she sobbed, “Look at me, I’m not letting you just stand here.” Her breaths came out in distressed tiny bursts. Annalise wrapped her arms around Seiko’s neck, “that night,” Annalise’s whole face was sagging down, weighed down by pelts of snow. “It was the best moment of my entire life. Everything, it was worth every second.” “Goddammit!” Seiko planted her feet, bent down and thrust her arms underneath Annalise’s knees and armpits, hoisting her up in the air bridal style. “Stop it. It’s not going to end like this!”

Annalise took a shaky breath, “you’re going to have such a beautiful life, I can see it.” “Shut up!” Seiko ran, barely feeling her legs as she carried the light girl over to the nearest shelter. They take refuge under a large bus stop overhang. “You’re the one that’s beautiful, your life will be too.” “Look at me.” Annalise breathed, Seiko kept her gaze on the flurry of white sky above, biting her lip in two as she did. “Please.” Annalise begged, “I promise… it’ll be okay.”

Seiko forced herself to look down. Annalise was melting, skin peeling away from her face and tissues sinking inward like holes in quicksand, leaving nothing behind. “Kiss me.” Seiko’s choked on the air, tears spilling out across her cheeks in thick sheets, running freely down her face. “N-no.” She shook her head vigorously. “You’re not a thing, you’re a person, a person, you hear me? You have your whole life to figure stuff out. A whole life… to kiss.” Annalise licked her lips, leaving no moisture behind, she was folding inward, becoming even lighter in Seiko’s arms. Coming apart.

Annalise wiped gently at Seiko’s streaming tears, “I can’t come with you.” She whispered, “I knew that, I always knew it.” She took a labored breath. “This was always going to happen. But at least… it’s a good happening.”

“Fuck, no,” Seiko begged, “it’s not good, it’s awful. This can’t… I can’t…” Annalise gave a weak smile, “Go. See the world, fall in love, make something, be anything, you were always made for life Seiko.” Seiko shook her head vigorously, “You can’t,” she was hyperventilating, “You can’t talk like that.” Annalise closed her eyes, “I can’t stay.” “No!” She wailed, “You can’t. I- I love you.”

Annalise just nodded, “Oh Seiko, I won’t be the last one to love you,” she stroked her cheek, “there’s so much for you.”

And then she was kissing her. Wet and crumpling and filled with a vigorous force she couldn’t explain. Annalise’s hands ran through Seiko’s damp hair and they kiss with the anguish of bursting stars and holes boring into the ozone. It’s harsh and gentle as a settling frost and whisper on the wind.

They kiss and kiss, tears spilling from her eyes and a hard begging in every crevice of her: no, no, no. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

She kissed until nothing but cold air touched her lips. Seiko opened her eyes, she was holding a limp nightdress and wet paper folding into a pile of unrecognizable mush, disintegrating at every angle. A collapsed paper doll. “No!” She shrieked, tearing at her vocal cords in a shattering sob, “Annalise, Annalise,” she pulled the wet paper to her chest and rocked it back and forth. “Say something, goddammit, Annalise! Annalise, I love you.” The wet paper didn’t respond, just folded silently into the soggy ground and disappeared with nothing but Seiko and the snow as witnesses. Seiko cried until there was nothing left to cry.

—————–

Seiko quit the soccer team. Liza said she understood, Seiko told her that maybe their friendship could use a small break. She told June she was making her own film, they could watch it together sometime.

She told her mom she loved her, she told her father he was doing a good job, and whispered to her little sister she was going to make a better path forward, for the both of them.

She told them that she liked girls, that she liked movies, and that she liked not working and going out sometimes. They took her out for a long drive and Seiko drove the hole way back herself.

Seiko put her pen to paper that night: Dear Annalise,

I won’t forget you. Her hands shook like dried autumn leaves, I’m 16 now, maybe I wasn’t before. I wish you were here. I’m going to the movies with a girl, I’m going to start reading that book about trees you liked.

I’m going to go live my life, whatever you meant by that, and I’m going to make something beautiful. For us.

Love, always,

Seiko.

#wlw #original story #f/f #urban fantasy #romance #mystery #growing up #coming of age #lbgt romance #original writing #my work #slice of life #first love #heartbreak

1K notes · View notes

sterileflcwer · 4 years ago

Text

Syncopate

Word Count: 1,545

Content Warning: N/A

『』

“Two people who are true friends are like two bodies with one soul.” - Chaim Potok

David Malter’s favorite composer was Sergei Rachmaninoff. After his wife had died, he had bought a record of the Philadelphia Orchestra playing some of Rachmaninoff’s concertos. Over the next few weeks, he had worn out the record with how he played it almost all hours of the day. If he was conscious and at home, he was playing the record without fail. He was sure that if Reuven had been old enough to protest the repetition of the record, he would have with little fail. Yet, the music somehow calmed the shattered David.

Rachamaninoff was also Reuven’s favorite composer. For his tenth birthday, David had brought home a Rachmaninoff record for his son. Instantly, the young boy absolutely adored it. Of course, it couldn’t replace his treasured toys and games. But, he immediately had a love for it. David, though somewhat naively, had promised to his son that he would one day take his son to see Rachmaninoff. He was just happy to see that this music that had comforted him at a dark time brought such joy to his son.

Years later, that record that Reuven had adored as a child played in his head once more. The rise and fall of the notes in Vocalise, the gentle vibrato of the singer’s voice, the sudden crescendos and decrescendos. He could hear it in Danny’s voice as he explained some psychological theory that sounded so beautiful falling from his lips. When Danny spoke so excitedly about something new he had read. He heard it simply in watching Danny while he poured over his beloved textbooks, the way his chest rose and fell and the repetitive actions he would make like thumbing sat the corner of the page so tenderly as if it was the skin of a lover.

Once, they had been standing together at the bathroom sink as they both got ready to go about their separate yet intertwined days. Reuven had been shaving, though somewhat carelessly rushing through the motions while Danny brushed his teeth. Occasionally, their eyes would meet in the mirror. Danny’s eyes were so clear. They looked like the lake that Reuven’s father would take him to as a kid, so still and almost unaffected by what was happening. He had bought their now terribly stained table cloth because the color, while somewhat off, reminded him of Danny's eyes when they first opened in the morning and were cast in that silvery haze of light. Reuven had been staring at Danny’s eyes when he nicked the soft skin on his jaw, the point where his jawbone made an angled line that connected to his ear. That’s when the pain registered and he finally looked away.

Danny let out a breath of a laugh before going to get a bandaid for Reuven, unsuccessfully hiding the smile that was desperately fighting its way onto his lips. If Reuven hadn’t been desperately snatched at the wax paper colored bandaid, he would have thought about how Danny’s lips were the color of a blush he had seen his father throw away once he was finally clearing out some of his mother’s belongings. Or the color of the dress of the only girl he had ever “dated” (his heart was never in it, he never could see anyone else in †he way he saw Danny) had worn on their last date.

That evening, Reuven had trudged through the door after a long day of classes. His dark hair, which he had recently allowed to grow past his ears, was all in a mess and his glasses seemed to sit crooked on his face. Danny, sitting at his usual perch at the kitchen table, looked up so serenely. Only a couple months ago had Reuven realized how swan-like Danny looked when he raised his head from his books like that. Similarly, Danny had noticed the way that Reuven’s lips formed certain words during his morning prayers and the ways his fingers flexed as he tied his tefillin. Or how he would almost wipe his black and wire framed glasses (a suggestion from Danny when he had followed Reuven to the optometrist) up instead of carefully readjusting them. Once, he had looked up from his book while Reuven was seemingly smashing on the typewriter that had been a twentieth birthday present from the sister of his late mother. He had quietly watched for a few minutes in, simply taking in Reuven’s profile and the way his shoulders slumped. For the first time in possibly years, he had noticed a new permanent thing on Reuven’s body. Danny noticed a dark mole, just at that sharp angle where his jaw started to flow up and form an ear.

It was the first time in a while where there had been something new and undiscovered about the other person. The last time had been a few months back, where their minds had slipped and neither had gotten groceries (though it was Reuven’s week to do so) and were absolutely starving. So, Reuven had suggested that they go to a food place just down the block that he and his father had frequented when he was a child. Without much of another option, Danny had somewhat hesitantly agreed. Eating out simply had never been a thing in Danny’s home, as Mama was always home to cook and his father had loyal followers that would willingly provide the Saunders with a meal if Mama had exhausted her recipes. Still, Reuven talked highly of the restaurant and Danny was sure that his partner would not mislead him for just a joke.

When they had arrived at the restaurant, Reuven had ordered first, reciting it off by heart much like Danny would recite a passage of Freud. Out of fear of embarrassment, Danny had simply ordered the same thing as Reuven. When they were walking back to the apartment, Danny noted how Reuven carried the white styrofoam container with a flat palm and lithe fingers spread on the bottom and his other hand rounded about the tin Coca-Cola can on the flat top. Meanwhile, Danny tried to tuck his container under his arm and carry his tin can soda in the hand farthest from Reuven. Just so his hand could possibly brush against Reuven. And when they got to the apartment, Danny was the one to open the door and keep it opened for Reueven with his foot. Reuven seemingly breezed past him, a slight smile on his features. Then, he smoothed the slightly crumpled tablecloth, attempting to make things seem nicer than they really were.

As the two started to eat, Danny carefully watched his boyfriend from across the table, copying his actions. Still, he constantly wiped his fingers on his napkin instead of just letting the oil sit. He hated how the grease felt on his fingers, even if Reuven didn’t seem to mind it too terribly. After a minute or so, Reuven noticed Danny’s movements.

“You realize you’re eating it wrong, right?” Reuven suggested, a rare, teeth showing, smile crossing his lips.

“How so?” Danny questioned, trying to keep a cool demeanor as though Reuven’s comment hadn’t bothered him.

“Well, first off, it’s just a burger. It’s not like matzah or babke,” he said, taking a hand off of his burger to gesture at it as though he were presenting it to Danny for the first time. “Think of it like a latke. But a lot less holy.”

Danny screwed up his face a bit, almost upset by Reuven’s teasing critique. Reflexively, he went to mess with an ear curl that was no longer there. With little to say and his features soured, their meal continued in silence.

In a way to almost proven Reuven wrong, Danny quickly scarfed the burger down, his expression still sour. When he went to throw the white styrofoam container in the trash bin, Reuven gently placed his hand on the stormy boy’s arm.

“Can I have your pickles?” he asked, a mischievous smile crossing his face. Almost immediately, Danny’s sour mood melted away and he let out a breath of a laugh as Reuven took the container out of his hands to take out the pickle slices. Then, when Reuven was finished with it, he took it to throw it in the bin.

Danny then stretched out on the loveseat in their adjoining and rather miniscule living room, grabbing one of his books from the coffee table nearby. He was easily buried in his book, something that always brought a grin to Reuven’s face. He quickly finished up his own meal before going to the old phonograph that his father had given them as somewhat of a housewarming present. While he filed through the various records they had collected, mainly ones Reuven had brought with him when they started to rent the small Brooklyn apartment. Danny peeked at Reuven over his book, questioning what he could be doing. Eventually, he plucked out a Gershwin record and put it on.

“Wanna dance?” he asked, holding a hand out to Danny.

“I prefer Glenn Miller,” Danny said almost flippantly without looking up to meet Reuven’s glance.

And that’s how Reuven found out that Danny’s favorite composer was not Rachmaninoff or Mendelsohnn or Irving Berlin, but Glenn Miller.

#danny saunders #reuven malter #the chosen #chaim potok #fanfic #fanfiction #deuven #danny saunders x reuven malter

8 notes · View notes

shadowdianne · 5 years ago

Text

Well

For @stregaomega @waknatious @italymystery-swanqueen @delirious-comfort

You are the gift I’m selfishly taking for myself from this fandom that gave us a lot while being our doom at the same time Xd So even if I’m gone…

M here was gracious enough to let me write one thing based on her manip. And so, I’m sending you the biggest warmest hug to you all… and some other stuff.

(Delirious, I’ve tagged you, but your thing will come in for New Year’s as I told you. Nevertheless, I wanted to say that I feel really lucky to have met you all. And considering the year I have had… you were a positive force back in 2018’s December. Thank you, for being there, for pushing me when I needed and for letting me rant when I didn’t truly have any words left)

And so, as the Basque way goes: Eguberri On!

PS: I’m INCREDIBLY RUSTY. Been months since I wrote for them, so I apologize beforehand.

The fountain’s water glimmered under the moonlight, the forever imprinted darker spots from where rivulets repeatedly hit the stone shadows that peppered through the moss that did its best to hide the sigils and symbols the sculptors had, once upon a time, considered important. Not like the two figures sitting at the very border of the tree that faced it were looking at them or the story they told, the lone twinkling lights coming from the torches around the plaza in where they were much more present than their eyes could ever be.

The clock had struck the hour in where night would turn to day after all, the echoes of gongs and mechanical whirring floating from the tall tower above the small nook the castle gardens created towards the two of them and, as they knew, their time together was coming to a close.

It hadn’t always been like that, Regina thought: the white from her dress grey and satin under the hiding moon. It had been very different back when they both had been children, young adults, when her title had been a distant, brittle threat rather than a curse and Emma had been slightly more than just her friend, slightly more than the helper that would get herself in trouble for always running away from what were supposed to be her duties. Just, slightly more.

It didn’t matter anymore, however, it didn’t truly matter as the other woman who had been reclined against her shuddered and sighed: the cape she had been wearing, fastened loosely around her shoulders, beginning to slide down her body as her shoulders trembled and morphed, patterns of feathers starting to appear over her knuckles, her fingers, her neck.

They had dared to be proud when they truly hadn’t been able to. They had dared to wish upon a star and fight when Regina’s mother had come with plans for conquest and tales of death and magic and, for the first time, the brunette had been forced to look at her mother’s eye and realize that the power her mother wielded wasn’t cloistered solely around her no more. Hunger and bloodlust had taken reign over Cora’s thoughts and there was little of what the woman could have been if she had chosen a magicless path. Not like Regina had truly seen her mother without the ring of red and black around her eyes.

Nothing of that mattered, however, not anymore since Regina had thought herself stronger, smarter, and so she had declined the promises of a blood-stained future while longing for touches that became longer and longer as years, months, weeks, progressed. As green eyes shone true amongst the many others who her mother wanted to marry her off. She had remained mute about that last tidbit though, knowing what kind of prize she would need to pay for it. And, as she had declined not only a title but what her mother considered to be the next step into a plan she couldn’t even begin to fathom how deep, how far, it would reach, she had seen the maniac, mercuric force that had filled Cora’s eyes, lighting her pupils, turning them into pools of promised demise.

Emma had screamed, had rushed over her side as Cora’s fingers had plunged into Regina’s chest, attempting to pluck her heart out as she had done many times already, relishing as she always did in the pain and anguish it caused. Regina had yelped then, had tried to push the girl, the young woman, who she had grown up with, with who she had fallen in love with, but it had been late, late as the snow that had fallen the second light had blinded them all while Cora’s magic had been redirected, a curse for a curse, a hex for a hex.

In a matter of seconds, Cora had been lying limp on the floor, magic trickling down her mouth in the form of ichor so black it looked like tar and Regina had wiped out her head towards Emma, worry eating her, devouring her, from inside.

Only feathers and light returned her stare.

Regina swallowed back a sob as the swan emerged from the blonde’s body, one last glance the last thing that remained between them as the last echo of spent time emitted a dying fluttering noise. The water of the fountain trembled and the tree she had seen her father plant when she had been little shuddered as the blast of magic she had grown so accustomed to it didn’t frazzle her anymore, shuddered and glowed in purples and golds.

They had been told, as Cora had been interred with a curse written on her teeth and tongue so no necromancer would be able to wake her up, that time and pain had been written on the words of the curse. One so powerful no one but the one who had uttered it would be able to lift. Regina had refused to take that as a truth, had fought back, had searched for her mother’s master, had knelt and bled and screamed but nothing had truly changed the fact that only during nighttime the feathers would turn into human flesh once more, Emma’s eyes glimmering emerald once more rather than the black the swan version of herself sported.

She had been married off at the end, a coup orchestrated by the imp she had dared to consider her own master that had lasted longer than she would have expected. The swan, however, had come with her, had learned alongside her, the inner workings of royalty in a way no one coming from the lower side of society had been able to be privy off. And so, the youth had been leeched out of both of them, time and essence stripping them bare with each night that it passed. Until they had heard from one of the scouts Regina had enchanted with her own eyes bleeding dark and purple and silver: the word love falling from his lips as he had knelt in front of one who had won the title of Queen even if there was very little she was let to reign over. Love would destroy the curse. True love would unbind the words and runes and pain that brought them together.

Emma had laughed meekly that night when she had moved closer to Regina as her feet touched the floor, arms hugging her torso, ribs poking through her skin, hair long and limp.

“I don’t believe in that.” She had whispered as she put her body against Regina’s side, one hand reaching, grazing Regina’s pulse-point with calloused hands and Regina had bit on her bottom lip at the notion that she had never told Emma, had never been able to say why, what, how, her mother had ultimately decided to use a hex against her. “Who would love me?”

She now eyed the swan once more as it moved back from her, wings opening and closing, the scent she had learned to recognize as magic pouring out of her in dribbling droplets no one else but her was able to see. It felt like thunder at times, storm and lighting under her skin as she tried hard not to think about what could have been. On what should have been.

"I promise you Emma, I’ll find a way to break this curse"

It sounded far much more doubtful than she intended but there were times, times like this, when the swan had just lost its human form, in where her eyes were still Emma’s rather than the animal, that Regina could have sworn something else, something more, kept peeking through the expression no bird would have been able to make. She remained silent afterward, however, knowing Emma could not answer back now, not until moonlight shone once again. And so, she waited and eyed the animal as it moved back towards her, mirroring how Emma had been seated less than a minute ago, its head against Regina’s neck, its wings wrapped around her in one final hug.

She had wondered once why her mother had chosen the path of magic, why anyone would gladly give up their autonomy for power. There were times, however, times like this, in where she wondered what she wouldn’t do in order to get Emma back.

Tell the woman how she felt, perhaps.

Because she loved her. Had loved her. Would love her.

And nothing else mattered.

#swanqueen #swan queen #surprise surprise #italymystery-swanqueen #waknatious #stregaomega #delirious-comfort #love you guys

28 notes · View notes

justanoutlawfic · 5 years ago

Text

I Belong With You (You Belong With Me): Go Ask Alice

Summary: Lacey & James get to know more about each other. Turns out they're both nerds, just for different things.

Also on AO3

Storybrooke, Maine (October 28th, 2011)

James attempted to peek through the newspaper that covered the windows but could only see the stories splashed across the pages, rather than the contents inside. He didn’t quite understand why the library had been locked up for so many years, but it bothered him to no end. He loved books. He could spend his lunch break, his evenings alone and the weekends getting lost in numerous adventures. From Jane Austen to George Orwell to Mary Shelley, he was never far from a novel. However, he was limited to the ones he had in his personal collection and what he could order off the internet. The mail system worked strangely in their little hamlet and it took forever to get anything in. If there was a library, at the very least it would be easier to borrow a huge stack and return them for more.

The last time he asked Regina Mills about it, she said that there wasn’t anyone interested in running the place. According to her, the last librarian had died long before he was born and no one else had been interested in the job. It was such a shame too. He knew he wasn’t the only one that longed for a library. His eyes glanced towards Henry, the mayor’s son. The young boy was looking longingly at the building as well. A large leather-bound book was tucked under his right arm and he had a frown on his face. His head tilted up towards the clock expectantly. James looked up towards it as well, but couldn’t tell what was wrong. Everyone had been abuzz about the clock being fixed, but it didn’t seem like Henry was happy about it.

Before James could move to say anything to Henry, the latter took off in the direction of a yellow Volkswagen bug. James shook his head. He had heard all about their town’s newcomer and the trouble she had been causing the mayor. On the one hand, he understood the appeal of wanting to get the child you gave up. On the other, Regina never lost. Even his own father was careful around her. Emma Swan had no clue what she was up against.

Then again, if she was this determined, maybe Regina didn’t know what she had coming either.

James turned to head back home; he had a long walk ahead of him. As he was doing so, he found himself face to face with Lacey. She was out of her waitress uniform and wearing a black sports bra along with matching leggings. Her auburn hair had been pulled back in a ponytail, showing off her sharp facial features. God, she was so beautiful. James had been in relationships before, but they never lasted very long. Albert made sure of that. No one was ever good enough or even if they were, Albert found something wrong with James. Sometimes he’d pick women for his son, only to say that he had changed his mind. As a result, James found himself a stuttering mess most of the time. He knew that there was no way Albert would ever approve of Lacey French. Yet, he also didn’t care.

“We just seem to be running into each other everywhere,” he managed to give her a nervous smile.

Lacey shrugged, jogging in place. Her ponytail bounced along with the rest of her body. “I guess so.”

James stuffed his hands into his pockets. “You headed to work?”

“No…just on a run.”

He could’ve smacked himself. Why would she go to work like that? “Of course, right…”

“Look…I’m sorry about the other day. Just please don’t tell your dad, the last thing I need is Albert Spencer up my ass again.”

James’ brows furrowed. “Why are you sorry? And why would I tell my dad?”

Lacey frowned as the jogging slowly came to a halt. “I was a jerk to you. And I mean, your dad is one of the biggest assholes in Storybrooke…”

“So, you thought I’d just rat you out.” James bit his lip. “Not that I actually wanted to talk to you or anything.”

“Well, I mean…yeah.”

James ducked his head. Of course. A pretty girl like Lacey and all she could think about was his scary father. God, why did Albert have to ruin everything for him?

“I didn’t plan on saying anything to my dad. I didn’t even care how you talked to me, I thought it was funny. I thought…” He trailed off, not wanting to embarrass himself further. “You know what? Never mind, it doesn’t matter.”

He started to walk away, ignoring the burning embarrassment in his stomach. James only made it halfway down the block when he heard Lacey calling for him. When he turned around, she was jogging his way.

“I guess I’m an idiot. I tend to see myself and not much else,” she admitted. “It’s not a great flaw.”

“You’re not the only one in the world with it.”

“Still something I should probably work on.” She rubbed her forearm. “Look, I feel like I owe you a drink.”

“Oh, you don’t have to…”

“James.” Lacey gave him a Look. “A girl like me is offering to take you to the Rabbit Hole and buy you alcohol. Think about if you wanna turn that down.”

James didn’t have to think twice. He offered her his sweatshirt since they were going to be heading into an establishment which made her do the cute head tilt. Ultimately, she accepted it, though she left it unzipped.

“It is just the Rabbit Hole, after all,” she said.

James had never been inside the bar in question. The last time he even had a drop of alcohol was to celebrate getting his undergrad and that was just a bit of champagne. The minute he stepped into the place; he knew it was different. It reeked of sweat, beer and nuts. AC/DC blared over the jukebox. The place was crowded with people. Some were around the tables, most settled by the pool tables. James was definitely the most overdressed of the bunch. The girls wore mini-skirts and tank tops, while the guys were in jeans. He had been walking home from work and was still in a burgundy sweater, corduroy pants and his dockers. As a waiter bumped into him, he worried about his glasses breaking.

God, you are such a dweeb.

There was that voice again. Where did it come from?

Lacey lead him over to the bar. “What do you drink?” She asked, finding them two stools.

“I um, I don’t.”

She gave him a weird look. “You’re kidding.”

The tips of his ears turned pink. “I mean…I’m just not a bar guy. My brother and I had a six pack on our 21st?”

Lacey let out an intoxicating, adorable, vibrant laugh that absorbed James’ soul. “That is precious,” she said. “We’ll start you off easy.”

A guy dressed in a leather jacket with messy brown hair approached them from the other side of the bar. “Lacey,” he smirked at her. “The usual?”

“You know me so well, Keith,” she said. “And for my new friend, a rum and coke.”

Keith glanced in James’ direction and frowned. “Alrighty then,” he mumbled, before walking away.

James felt even more out of place. Keith was clearly Lacey’s type. What was he doing here? Was this some kind of sick joke? Maybe he should think up an excuse and leave…

“So, you were stalking the library,” Lacey interrupted his thoughts. “You like books or something?”

James blinked a few times. “Oh, um…yeah. I love them a lot actually. My minor was English Literature.”

“A college man.” Lacey let out a low whistle. “Very nice. Who’s your favorite author?”

“Probably Mary Shelley. Frankenstein is just one of the best books of that era. The responsibility of the doctor, the monster attempting to fight his nature but ultimately failing, the romances in the book too and the parental dynamics…” He trailed off with a shrug. “Sorry, I probably sound like a nerd right now.”

Lacey shook her head. “Nah, I think it’s cool you’re so passionate about it. I used to love reading when I was younger. My mother and I had a book club for a bit. Well, I don’t even know if you could call it that. We’d give each other book recommendations and then talk about them.”

James watched as a haunting look overtook Lacey’s eyes. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, but he had never seen her so serious. Keith placed the drinks down and she quickly took a sip of her Jack Daniels.

“Anyway, I don’t have much time for reading now but I probably get like you do about books, when music is involved.”

James tilted his head. “Oh really?” He picked up his own drink and took a big sip. The rum burned his throat and he nearly choked on it. Lacey smirked a bit.

“You okay there?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he set the drink back down and plucked out the cherry instead. “Guess I’m just not as good as you are with the liquor.”

“Takes years of practice and an alcoholic father, trust me.”

“Your dad is…”

“Moe French. He owns the flower shop.”

“Game of Thorns, I always loved the name.”

“I picked it. He wanted to call it “Rosie’s” or something stupid like that. We don’t even know a Rose” She rolled her eyes. “Told him people would be more attracted to a pop culture reference.”

“It was definitely the better choice.”

“Anyway, yeah, music. I have actual vinyls. My mom left me her record player.”

James grinned. “Seriously? I haven’t seen one of those in ages.”

“You know there’s this great record shop on Third, Dante’s. I’d probably spend all my check from Granny’s there if I could.” She took another swig of her drink. “I found a signed copy of Surrealistic Pillow that I’ve been saving up for, for months.”

“That’s…”

Lacey’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “White Rabbit.” He must have still looked confused, because she grabbed hold of his hands and shook them. “Jefferson Airplane, they pioneered psychedelic rock.”

“Oh…”

“You don’t know what that means, do you?”

“Do you know what iambic petameter is?” Lacey’s mouth formed a thin line. “Then we both have something to teach the other.”

Lacey giggled. “I guess we do.”

James felt something buzzing in his pocket and reluctantly pulled his hand away from Lacey. He fumbled around for a bit before finding his phone. His father’s name lit up the screen, causing a lump to build. He slid the green bar across and held it to his ear.

“Hey Dad,” he tried to be heard above the noise of the bar without shouting. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” Albert repeated incredulously. “Where are you?”

“Just uh…with a friend.” Lacey gave him a puzzled look. “I’m gonna be home a bit late tonight…”

“You need to get to the hospital. Something’s happened.”

James could feel his heart beat faster. “Is David okay? Did he have another scare?”

“No, he’s awake.”

James blinked several times before the news registered. “I…I’ll be right there.”

He hung up the phone before his dad could say anything else and then stared at the lock screen. It was a picture of him and David before everything went wrong. They had dinner after the latter left Kathryn. He was happy. Everything was going well. Who would’ve guessed days later, his brother would be found unconscious in the woods?

“Is everything okay?” Lacey asked.

James looked up, catching her appearance of genuine concern. “That was my um…my dad. My twin…he woke up from his coma.”

“Holy shit.”

“I…I have to call a taxi to get to the hospital…I um…I don’t have a car.”

Lacey tilted her head. “Your dad is Albert Spencer and you don’t have a car?”

“He doesn’t want me to have one.”

She stared at him for a moment. “Okay, I’d say we’d take mine but I jogged here. We can just borrow Ruby’s Camaro.”

“Lacey…”

“I only had half of one drink. I’m fine to drive, and Ruby and I borrow each other’s stuff all the time.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I know I don’t. I’m still going to.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

James and Lacey raced into the coma ward, both nearly out of breath. He lead her into David’s room and came to a pause in the doorway. His brother sat up in bed, the tubes still in his nose. David’s blue eyes were open wide and he was looking around at everyone. Albert stood off to one side, looking disappointed. Mary Margaret, the schoolteacher, was still in the corner. Emma was with her. He didn’t quite understand that either.

“David,” he said, softly.

David looked in his direction and a small smile came over his face. “Hi,” he whispered.

“It’s about time you showed up,” Albert said, gruffly. He stormed over to his son. “What took you so long?”

James immediately ducked his head. “I’m sorry, there was a lot of traffic on Main Street…”

“It’s not as if it matters,” Emma cut in. “It took us time to get him back.”

“Get him back?”

“Your idiot brother woke up from his coma and decided that was the perfect time to take an evening stroll.” Albert threw his hands in the air. “I got really lucky with my sons; I tell you that much.”

“Oh yes, they were far blessed to be given you,” Lacey mumbled.

Everyone in the room turned to the woman who wore James’ sweatshirt. Albert looked between her and his son, his eyes narrowing.

“And you are?”

“Lacey French.” She took a step forward. Her chin jutted outwards. “Your son and I were hanging out when he got the call, and I gave him a ride.”

“Right, Miss French.” Albert looked her up and down. “I thank you for getting James here, but this really is a family matter.” He looked back at Mary Margaret and Emma too, as if to communicate the same message. “Surely, the three of you understand.”

Mary Margaret looked hesitant but nodded. She walked out of the room with Emma following behind her. Sheriff Hubert was waiting not far out the door to ask them a few questions, in no doubt about David’s disappearance. Lacey stood firm, her eyes on Albert for a few moments. Finally, she turned to James and began to shrug off his sweatshirt. He held up a hand to stop her.

“You can keep it,” he whispered. “It’s chilly out.”

Lacey nodded. “I’ll see you at the diner tomorrow. We’ll make sure to have your order ready.”

Sparing Albert one last glare, she left the ward. David and James were left with their disapproving father who stared at the eldest twin. James simply moved closer to his brother and ran his fingers through his hair, mumbling questions to him about him waking up, where he had gone, etc. Even so, he wasn’t stupid.

Albert wasn’t done with the topic of Lacey French.

#i belong with you you belong with me verse #prince beauty #snowing #ouat #once upon a time #prince james #belle french #lacey french #albert spencer #mary margaret blanchard #david nolan #emma swan

4 notes · View notes

mariequitecontrarie · 5 years ago

Text

Put Me In, Coach

Summary: Gideon is playing little league baseball and the Gold-Swan-Mills family has trouble remembering they’re only spectators. A/N: Marie’s kiddos are into baseball this year so this happened. A little magical family AU. I took some license with the kids’ ages. Written for the May @a-monthly-rumbelling: limelight, sparkle, tap. Thanks to @galactic-pirates for helping! Rating: T

On AO3

The crack of the bat splintered the air, and the baseball catapulted deep into left field.

Belle shot to her feet with a raucous yell, clapping her hands and bouncing up and down on the bleachers. “Run, Roland, run!”

Young Roland Hood was diving headfirst into third base by the time the opposing team got the ball back into the infield, his hit driving Neal Junior and August across home plate.

Billows of red dust settled across the ballfield and Belle brushed the dirt off her thighs and plopped back down on the bench. Gideon’s baseball team, the Storybrooke’s Golden Nuggets, had pulled ahead by three. At the bottom of the ninth and final inning, the score stood tied at 4-4.

Another base hit, and they’d be knocking on victory’s door.

Belle poked him in the arm like a little girl and his lips quirked upward. “Rumple, did you see that hit?” she asked, catching her breath.

His smirk bloomed into a lopsided grin. Watching his wife watch was one of the best parts of the game. “Of course I did. A triple and two runs-batted-in. Well done, Roland.”

Another poke, this time in the ribs. “Why aren’t you on your feet, cheering for the team?”

He waved a gnat away from his face lazily. “I’m not one for shouting and jumping, sweetheart, but I enjoy your excitement. He really knocked the cover off the ball, didn’t he?”

She whistled under her breath, sounding impressed. “Look at you, up on all the baseball lingo.”

“It’s the great American pastime,” he drawled.

“And just how long have you been waiting to turn that particular phrase?”

“No matter.” He rubbed his fingers together in anticipation. “I’m a patient man, sweetheart.”

Rumplestiltskin shaded his eyes with the heel of his hand and scanned the crowd. Granny Lucas was in the stands, as she was at every game, seated beside Marco and guarding her cooler. It was bursting with sports drinks, and homemade ice cream sandwiches made with her fresh chocolate chip cookies, reserved for when the children were done playing. Clark reached out to open the cooler lid but Granny smacked him on the hand before he could poach a treat.

The Charmings were here, of course, to cheer for Neal Junior, and because David was the Head Coach. On the bench behind him and Belle sat Regina, Emma, and Neal, cheering for Gideon and encouraging Henry, who was helping out as David’s Assistant Coach.

It was quite a turnout for eight-year-old little league, but post-curse Storybrooke was a snug little town determined to support its own. Nothing bad had happened in ages, and if their biggest problem was smuggling baseball teams from the Land Without Magic back and forth across the town line without incident, that suited the Golds just fine.

“All you need now is some Cracker Jack, Rumple,” Belle said. It was the quintessential baseball snack and one of his favorites.

“If only my clever wife brought me some,” he teased back.

Her blue eyes sparkled with delight, reminding him of when she used to ply him with raspberry cakes in the Dark Castle as a distraction. While he popped sweet after sweet into his mouth and sipped on cinnamon tea laced with sugar, she would poke through his cabinets of magical artifacts as though she was getting away with something. Little did she know, he’d been a willing accomplice to her snooping.

“Have I ever forgotten to bring you snacks?” While Gideon strode up to the plate to take his turn at bat, Belle pulled a red, white, and blue cardboard box of caramel-coated popcorn and peanuts from the knapsack at her feet.

Neal tapped Belle on the shoulder. “Got any more of that?”

Belle smiled and passed him three more boxes—one for him, one for Emma, and one for Regina.

“You’re like a walking concessions stand, Belle.” Neal tossed a piece of popcorn in the air and caught it in his mouth. “This is better than a New York Yankees game. All I need now is a beer and a chili dog.”

“How about after the game?” Belle offered with a wink. “Cookout at our house.”

Neal hesitated. “Is Papa grilling?”

“Always,” Belle said. They all knew she always burned the hot dogs.

“Then you’re on.” Neal ripped open his Cracker Jack box with a grin.

“Two outs,” Head Umpire Leroy shouted from behind home plate.

“Let’s go, Gideon!” From his post by the dugout, Coach David cupped his hands and shouted. “Tap your bat on the plate and get set, kiddo.”

While the spectators held their collective breath, Gideon’s gold jersey sparkled like drops of sunshine against the crystal blue sky, clipped grass, and orange clay. The beauty of the uniforms was a particular point of pride for Rumplestiltskin, as he had chosen and pad for them himself.

“I’ve never understood why players tap home plate when they’re batting.” Belle gestured at Gideon, who was pounding the plate with the thick end of the bat like his life depended on it.

“It’s so the batter can make sure his feet are in the right position.” Neal’s voice floated over their shoulders. “You wanna know you can touch the edges of the plate.”

“Others say it’s part of a wordless game within a game.” Rumple lifted the brim of Belle’s baseball cap, then pulled it down snug across her brow. “I read in a book that baseball is an enigma of signs and signals, sweetheart, inspired by the American Civil War.”

“I can’t think about books right now, Rumple.” Belle clasped her hands.

He would have checked her for a fever if he hadn’t known she was pouring all her attention into watching their son. “Come on, Number 12!” Belle called to Gideon, then unclenched her hands to chew her thumbnail.

Gideon’s turn at bat was always nerve-wracking and Belle murmured under her breath, pleading with the gods to grant him a hit. He’d already struck out twice this game, and this would be his last chance to bat today.

From his post on the pitching mound, Hook lobbed the ball over the plate, and Gideon swung and missed.

“Strike one!” Leroy called.

“Good swing, Gideon.” Coach David clapped while he paced the third base line. “Next one’s your pitch.”

“Why is Hook pitching again?” Regina asked. “I thought this was a children’s league.”

“If the shiny, swashbuckling shoe fits,” Rumple hissed.

“Rumple,” Belle said, her tone carrying a warning. “Hook’s helping. Be kind.”

“Henry told us this about 15 times,” Emma said. “It’s called ‘coach pitch.’ Kids at this age don’t pitch consistently, so they bring in an adult who can lob it in nice and easy.”

Belle put her hands over her eyes. “I can’t look.” She stole another long glance anyway, peeking through her fingers while another pitch sailed through the air, this one low and skirting the outside of the plate.

Gideon had the good sense to leave that one alone. Most of the kids swung at anything within reach but they were eight and, at this level, the game was more about fun than skill. Or so Belle kept telling him.

Rumple plucked a popcorn kernel from his Cracker Jack and popped it into his mouth, glaring at Hook between bites. Not that he would have been any better at pitching, but the fact that his nemesis was also David’s Assistant Coach irked him to no end.

“Ball one!” Leroy shouted.

Henry signaled to David, called a time out, and jogged out to home plate. He whispered in Gideon’s ear, then patted the top of his helmet with a clenched fist. Whatever Henry had said made Gideon grin, and Rumple’s rib cage felt too small to contain his heart. The relationship between his son and grandson was one of his greatest joys. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for them.

He slipped his hand back into the box of popcorn and wriggled his fingers.

“What’s happening now?” Belle asked when Henry returned to the dugout.

“Gideon has one more pitch coming,” Rumple reported, his gaze pinned to the action.

“Yes, he’s still standing at the plate.” The heat of her pointed stare was unnerving. “I meant you. What are you doing?”

He froze with his hand in the cardboard box, his fingertips sticky with salty caramel and his neck flushed with guilt. “Looking for the prize in the box,” he fibbed.

On his last pitch Gideon swung, and the bat hit the ball with a satisfying smack. The baseball sailed over the outfield like it had wings and bounced off the fence.

On their team’s side of the field, the crowd erupted in applause and shouts and whistles.

His wife’s hands went from covering her face to framing her hips as she watched Gideon race around the bases and pound his foot on home plate. Belle was smiling and cheering with the rest of them, but when she turned to him her eyes were cloudy.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “Rumple, you can shift the weather so the rain comes after the game, poof the opposing team’s kids and their families in and out of town so they believe Storybrooke is a normal place, outfit our players with the best athletic equipment money can buy, and build a stadium with an electronic scoreboard. But I draw the line at cheating.”

He offered his most winning smile. “Sweetheart, have I told you how much I like that navy cap? It really brightens your eyes.”

“Rumple!”

“So I’m helping the boy.” His ears turned red at the tips and he shifted on the bleachers. “I help the others too,” he added defensively.

“Equal opportunity cheating. How novel.” She rested a hand on his knee, the affectionate pat softening the sting of her words. “Darling, just let them play. It’s supposed to be fun.”

There was that word again. Fun.

“Winning is fun,” he pronounced, noting with approval how Gideon’s teammates crowded around him for high-fives as the game ended with the Golden Nuggets winning 6 to 4. Acceptance. Belonging. They were the sweetest of feelings and with the exception of his wife and son, Rumplestiltskin had known far too little of both in his life. He wouldn’t allow his son to suffer a similar fate.

“They’re children,” Belle said, shaking her head. “Their goals in life are wearing jerseys and stuffing their faces with ice cream after the game.”

A meaty finger jabbed him in the back. “Did you do it again?”

He turned around and blinked at his son. “Do what?”

“Pop, come on.” Neal ran a hand through his hair, making it stand on end. “You’re not as subtle as you think.”

After all these years Neal still didn’t trust magic and had relegated its use to the ‘for emergencies only’ category.

“I beg to differ.” Rumple glanced back at the field while players from both teams lined up on the field to shake hands. He was exactly as subtle as he thought and more. “Who else knows what I did except for you?”

Regina crushed a peanut between clenched teeth and fixed Rumple with a stare that made lesser beings cower. He glared back, unashamed. As though she hadn’t, and wouldn’t, commit every weapon in her arsenal to offer Henry an advantage!

Emma sipped her soda and frowned down at a blade of grass on the bleachers.

“Who knows isn’t the point.” Neal shook his head. “Gideon’s my baby brother and of course I want him to enjoy the limelight once in a while. Thing is, Papa, you’re not doing his playing any favors by cheating for him.”

“Better my help than the pirate’s,” Rumple growled.

“If you’re so concerned about the quality of play, you could have volunteered to coach the team yourself,” Neal fired back. “Man, you really can’t stand to lose, can you?”

“Lose? We won,” Rumple crowed. So what if he’d helped his son’s team along? Helping the team was the sponsor’s job. And if he used a touch of magic to tip the odds in their favor, where was the harm? It wasn’t as though he used magic at every game. They’d even lost one. He had gritted his teeth throughout that cloudy, humid afternoon, but he’d let it happen.

“We could have won without the cheating,” Regina stood and crossed her arms. “Now we’ll never know.”

He tightened his fingers around the edge of the bench. “ Do you really think you should be the judge of morality, Your Majesty? The woman who cursed an entire kingdom because a little girl told a secret.”

“Not this again.” Neal closed his eyes.

“Your curse to get back to your son.” Regina’s tone could have chipped ice.

“And I’d do it all again,” Rumplestiltskin snarled. “As would you, if you had enough grace and guts to admit it.”

“Maybe instead of arguing over a minor thing like a father supporting his son with a harmless little spell, we could have been watching the game.” Emma swatted popcorn crumbs off her jeans like they were stinging nettles. “Gideon scored and I missed the whole thing!”

Neal’s mouth dropped open. “You agree with what Papa’s doing?”

“Look, all I’m saying is Gold’s not the first parent to try to make a tough situation easier on his kid and he won’t be the last.” Emma peered into her empty Cracker Jack box.

Neal straddled the bench with a labored sigh. “Is that some sort of code?”

“Yes, to which tough situation are you referring, Emma?” Regina’s lip curled at the corner.

“You know how worried Henry was about last week’s chemistry exam?” Emma winced. “Well, I might’ve used my mom’s login to crack into the school computer system and get the answers to the test.”

“You helped my son cheat?” Regina shouted the last word and a few people sent them curious glances. Fortunately, Henry and Gideon were still busy with their post-game pep talk and didn’t notice.

“Our son.” Emma’s cheeks turned pink. “And I only gave him a few answers, not the entire test!”

“Oh, it was only part of the test.” Regina threw up her hands. “I feel so much better.”

This was an interesting development, to be sure. His son’s brow was furrowed in confusion, the Queen looked like her head was going to explode, Belle was gnawing on lower her lip like she’d missed breakfast, and Rumplestiltskin wasn’t unhappy for his family’s ire to be directed somewhere other than at him. Respect mingled with kinship in a way he’d never experienced with Emma. While he didn’t consider tacos and hot chocolate to be two of the four major food groups, her approach to parenting was logical. Why let your child wrestle with something when it was within your power to smooth the way?

“Enough!” Belle stomped her foot, making the bleachers clang. “Gideon and Henry are headed this way and I think this is the last conversation they need to hear.”

Neal pouted. “So no chili dogs, huh?”

Belle’s nostrils flared, a sure sign she was running low on patience. “I said no more fighting, not no more eating. See you at the house.”

xoxo

Their backyard cookout ended with the setting of the sun. Neal, Emma, Regina, and Henry had all gone home and there had been no more debate about baseball, chemistry tests, or the principles of proper parenting.

Belle’s relief was palpable as she scraped the remnants of hot dogs smothered in chili and coleslaw into the sink and dumped the paper plates into the trash. Bowls and platters that had brimmed with chips, potato salad, brownies, and Regina’s famous apple turnovers now sported only a smattering of crumbs.

Clearly, the tension hadn’t ruined anyone’s appetite.

Rumple ran the disposal and turned on the taps, filling the kitchen sink with hot, soapy water. He always washed the dishes and Belle always dried, just as he always fired up the grill while she always set the table. The easy cadence of their routine was immensely comforting.

“Why don’t they remind Gideon to throw to second base when he’s playing center field?” he asked when Gideon had gone upstairs with a snack size bag of pretzels and yet another ice cream sandwich. “He needs to hit the cutoff man if they’re going to get the ball back into the infield.”

“I only understood every third word of that sentence, love.” Belle plucked a clean towel from the drawer and lifted a wet platter from the drying rack. “But I think the bottom line is they’re too young. Those skills will come with time and practice.”

“The cutoff man is the player you throw to when you’re too far into the outfield.” He scrubbed a pan until it shone. “And there’s no such thing as too young to learn to do things properly, sweetheart.”

He passed her a pair of clean barbecue tongs after shaking the excess water into the sink.

“Properly? You mean like charging his bat with a little extra zing before he hits, or how a ball that flew over his head in the first inning somehow landed in his glove?” She shoved the dry tongs in a drawer with the spatula and slammed it.

“Says the woman who runs the mysterious magical library.” He snorted. “I haven’t heard any complaining when the characters pop out of the pages of novels and come to life at your story hour. Then it’s ‘all magic comes with a price, dearie.’”

“It’s not the same and you know it. You’re cheating.” Belle rolled her eyes and smacked his ass with her damp dish towel.

He danced away and laughed. “Don’t think of it as cheating. Think of it as protecting an investment.”

He was being glib but it was easier this way. When he was a boy, he’d been rubbish at sports. Because he was too puny and weak to throw a ball with any distance and force, the other village children had laughed at him. Rather than being encouraging and teaching him how to play their games, his father used to join them in their jeers. His father, the self-proclaimed king of games, had refused to play with his own son.

Even now, with all his power and wealth, the humiliation made his ears burn.

If you couldn’t be popular, be powerful. That was the lesson life had taught him. No longer in a playful mood, he stared into the sink filled with dingy bubbly water and blinked away tears.

Sensing his upset the way she always did, Belle came up behind him to wrap her arms around his waist and lay her cheek against his back. “What’s really troubling you, love?”

“It’s ridiculous,” he said, trying not to stiffen at her gentleness. Belle knew all about his past with his father.

“Try me.” She pressed a kiss to the space between his shoulder blades.

He turned around and drew her close. “I can’t help Gideon the way other parents can help their children. I can’t pitch like Emma or improve his stance like Bae. I don’t throw and catch well, and I can’t smile and encourage the players the way David can. Even a one-handed pirate has more game than I do.”

He didn’t say I’m just like my father, but they both knew what he was thinking.

“That’s not true. You’re an excellent swordsman.” She kissed his chin. “Besides, it’s not as though I have an athletic bone in my body.”

“No, you can only hike five miles before you break a sweat. And you read six languages including Fae. But who’s keeping track?”

She laughed. “You’re no slouch in the smarts department yourself, sir.”

“Yes, I cheated and I know it was wrong. But I don’t want Gideon to suffer the pain of being unsuccessful the way I have.” He shrugged. “The boy wants to play baseball and he wants to be good. He wants his friends to like him. I thought if I helped things along...it was my way of doing my part.”

“Unsuccessful?” She took his face between her hands and cupped his chin. “Listen to me, Rumplestiltskin. You’re the richest man in town and the most talented but you never steal the limelight. You acquire wonderful things for the shop for people to buy, you purchase crates of books for the library, you commissioned a new wing for the school. The properties you own provide people with affordable, safe homes. When you spin, it’s like poetry. And you are nothing like your father.”

“Belle.” Emotion welled up in his chest at her praise. She’d known what he needed to hear even when he didn’t. “Sweetheart, do you mean it?”

“Absolutely. This baseball team is the Golden Nuggets because of you. You’re their sponsor. The uniforms, the equipment—it all came from you. I wanted Gideon to get a hit today, too. You’re protecting and loving him the best way you know how. But sometimes part of being his parents means having to stand by and watch him fail. If we fix everything for him, how will he grow and learn?”

Belle was right. He hated to admit it, but it was true.

He nodded. “Would it be alright if I promise not to do it again but we don’t tell him about today or any of this?” He didn’t want to look like an old fool in front of his son.

“Of course.” Belle inched closer and wound her arms around his neck. “In the meantime, I have a great idea for how we can help Gideon with his game in a way that’s fair.”

“What is it?”

“Tomorrow, you can take Gideon to the batting cages to practice his swing.” She lowered her voice to a sultry whisper. “And tonight, you can take me to bed and show me yours.”

He frowned, confused. “I’m not sure I follow.”

Her eyes roamed over his body, dark with appreciation. “It’s my understanding you have quite the bat of your own.”

“I do enjoy a good game of baseball.” He grinned. “Lead the way, Mrs. Gold.”

###

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #a monthly rumbelling #gold family #rumplestiltskin x belle #gideon gold #baseball fic #gold family fic #mqc writes

30 notes · View notes

a-really-bi-girl · 5 years ago

Text

Reunion - Mr Gold

Chapter 1 - Granny’s Diner

It was around one o'clock on a sunny Friday in Storybrooke. Mister Gold just locked his store for his library date with Belle.

But first, he had to pick up their lunch. Gold walked through Town with his cane in hand.

When all out of a sudden a black Chevrolet raced through the streets of his quiet town. The driver of the car was a young woman.

Her hair was loosely braided and she wore a black leather jacket. She had a playfully but concentrated look in her eyes, a look he taught he had seen before.

----

"Papa!! Did you see that!? Arthur and I, we jumped so high" You laughed out loud when you road back towards your father.

"Well done dearie," he said smiling at you when you stopped beside him.

You jumped off your horse and landed next to it. Your father fed Arthur an Apple as the two of you walked back to camp.

The camp almost ran out of firewood, so you and your dad went to the foods to gather some.

"Papa, do you have a name in mind for my little brother?" You asked curiously.

"We have already chosen one for him, you will hear it when we get back," your father says as he strokes your hair.

After walking towards the camp and gathering the firewood, you arrived home tired and with sore feet.

"Why did you let her walk all the way back home, she is just a little girl Rumple!" Your mother angrily whispers to your father.

"That way we could bring more firewood, my love. We don't want you or Baelfire to get cold" he replied calmly.

"Is that his name?" You asked while yawning. Your parents smiled at you as they lifted you up and placed you in your bed.

"It is, what do you think?" Your mother asked as she tugged you into your bed.

"I like it," you say smiling at your parents.

----

"Fits like a glove" you mumbled as you parked your car in the last free spot near the diner. You checked the address on your phone to see if this was the right one.

Granny's Diner

"That's definitely it," You say as you turn the car off and step out. You grab your guitar case before quickly locking the door and walking across the street.

It was a sunny day, but no one was outside. Except for a man in a full suit and a walking case. When across the street you took a deep breath. 'You can do this, you can do this' You thought to yourself before entering the building.

"Welcome at Granny's, what can I get you," A woman said as soon as you closed the door.

"Ummm hi, a chocolate milkshake please," You asked while looking around the restaurant.

"Anything else?" She asked.

"Do you know an Emma Swan? I am meeting her here for my interview for the deputy vacant place." You asked kindly.

" She will be here any minute" the woman replied while walking away. 'Okay, relax, you are early.’ You said to yourself before walking towards a Booth.

You sat down in the booth in the corner and took your notepad out of your guitar case. While rereading the lyrics you have written the man in the suit entered the diner.

You quickly looked at the men as he entered and then you returned to rereading your lyrics

-----

"Welcome to Gran-- Owh it's you. Your order will be done in ten minutes, have a seat" Granny spoke monotone as she exited the kitchen with a chocolate milkshake in hand.

She walked over to the booth in the back and placed the chocolate milkshake on the table."Here you go child" Granny said to someone.

"Thanks" the woman spoke before she places her book back into her guitar case. It was the woman from the car.

The way the woman her hair fell around her face reminded him of his little girl, just like the look she just had on her face while driving her car.

'Could it be?' he wondered as she took the first sip of her milkshake.

The woman didn't look like his little girl, but on the other hand, how would he know how she looked like now.

Her white blouse was tugged into her ripped boyfriend jeans. Her ears were pierced and he could spot some lines of a tattoo on her neck while she fixed her collar.

When she took her jacket off she rolled up her sleeves, revealing many leather bands and concert/festival bracelets.

The door reopened and Emma walked in. Granny pointed at the woman in the corner. "Your candidate is over there," she said before walking back into the kitchen.

"Thanks, Granny," she said before walking over. "Hi, I'm Emma." She said while extending her hand.

The woman shook her hand whilst introducing herself.

----

The interview went great and the time flew by. You got the job and you had dinner with Emma and her colleges, well her dad and her boyfriend.

The men in the suit from earlier that day returned with his wife and sat in the booth across the restaurant.

"One pint for madam," David said while he placed your glass in front of you. "Thanks," you said before taking a big sip of it. David sat down in front of you while a woman walked by.

"What's the cause for this celebration?" A brunette asked. "Hi I'm the new Deputy," you said while extending your hand to her.

" Hi and welcome to Storybrooke, I'm Belle I work at the library," she said smiling at you.

"Nice to meet you," you said while the two of you shook hands.

"Nice to meet you too, I love your braid" she replied while plucking a loose hair out of it.

"thanks and thanks for removing that" you awkwardly smiled.

"Well I have to get going, I hope you soon pop by the library," she said smiling as she walked back towards the men in the suit.

-----

"Do you got it?" Gold asked Belle nervously.

" Yes of course, why?" Belle asked while the duo walked outside.

Mister Gold fishes a bottle out of his jacket. " Please put it in here," he asked while plucking one of his own hairs and putting it into the bottle.

" A while ago I told you that I had another kid, a girl." Gold started."She disappeared when she was younger, I never knew what happened. I tried to find out, I tried to find her. But I never did find her" he continues while shaking the bottle.

"But I think I just did Belle, I think it's the new Deputy." Gold says as he looks Bell her eyes. Gold removed his finger from the top of the bottle and small glowing Firefly like being flew out of the bottle.

Belle intertwined their fingers as the duo watched the Firefly entering Granny."How will you know for sure?" Belle asked.

" The Firefly. If it lands on her body and her eyes turn yellow, then she is my daughter. " Rumple explains as he follows the Firefly.

When it finally arrived at her booth it landed on her shoulder. A few seconds flew by and nothing happened so Gold looked away, giving up the hope to find his girl.

" Rumple look!" Belle said while looking at you. Gold looked and saw that your eyes turned yellow for a second, showing him that you were, in fact, his daughter.

#ouat #rumplestiltskin #mr gold

3 notes · View notes

wiseabsol · 5 years ago

Text

A Selection of Abby’s Favorite Fanfics

Artemis Fowl: The Aztec Incident by AgiVega

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/2055830/1/Artemis-Fowl-The-Aztec-Incident

Fandom: Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer

Summary: 26-year-old Artemis Fowl gets the greatest surprise of his life when Commander Holly Short pays him a visit, pleading for his help. They need to team up to save their son, whose existence Artemis has been unaware of….

Artemis Fowl: The Sword of God by AgiVega

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/2593669/1/Artemis-Fowl-The-Sword-of-God

Fandom: Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer

Summary: Sequel to the Aztec Incident. Despite having Holly at his side, Artemis is depressed, he cannot overcome the loss of his genius. Only time can heal him… in both senses of the word.

My thoughts on this duology: One of my favorites as a teenager, which I printed a hard-copy of. It has great comedic timing and, all in all, is a fun adventure romp.

A City of Fortune and Failure by justadram

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9287426/1/A-City-of-Fortune-and-Failure