#i could have gone to bed much earlier yesterday but i fell back into bleach gacha hell

[unxpctedlygreat]

So tired 😔

[nothingeverlost]

Fic: Henry Gold (5/?)

Summary: Regina asked for Gold’s help in procuring a child, but when he held the wee boy in his arms he couldn’t give the child up.  Ten years later it’s Henry Gold who arrives in Boston, looking for Emma.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3/ Chapter 4

A/N: Very Henry-lite, but . Emma meets Mary Margaret, a pregnant girl, and applies first aid.  More show dialog than past chapters.

II

"You had us all worried, Henry."  At Henry's request Emma walked him to school the next morning.  They were greeted in the playground by a woman with short hair who looked strangely familiar, though Emma knew that they'd never met.  "I'm glad you're safe."

"Thanks Miss Blanchard.  I have to go talk to Paige.  Bye Emma, thanks for walking me."  Henry was off before Emma had a chance to respond.  Ever since the call had come from Franklin's that it would be at least a week before her car could be repaired, thanks to a part that needed to be ordered, Henry had been much more relaxed. 

"So you're Henry's teacher."  Who happened to be the woman that Henry thought was her mother.  The mother who was, from the looks of her, the same age as Emma herself.  "I'm Emma.  I'm, uh…"

"His biological mother.  You're also the one that got him and Archie out of the mine."  Miss Blanchard shrugged.  "It's a small town, and there's not a lot to talk about.  News travels fast.  Also he apparently used my credit card to find you, or at least I assume that’s why a site called www.whoseyourmama showed up on my bill."

“I don’t have much experience with small towns.”  She wasn’t used to people knowing much about her, either. She was more used to stolen credit cards, but hadn’t realized that Henry had inherited that talent.  Was stealing hereditary?  If so he came by it honestly.

“Sometimes if can be really wonderful, having so many people know you.  Sometimes it can feel lonely, when it feels like nothing ever changes.”  She shrugged.  “I’m afraid I have to take some of the blame for yesterday, and for you being here.”

“Because of the credit card?”  Emma wondered if Henry would have still run for the mines if she had never been in the town.  If he had would he have found a way out?

“Because of the book.”  Mary Margaret looked to the corner of the playground where Henry was sitting and talking to a little blond girl.  It was the first time Emma had seen him with a kid his own age.

“You’re the one that gave it to him?”  That was weird.  Or maybe it made sense. She gave him the book so maybe seeing her as one of the characters was logical, for a ten year old.  And if his teacher was a character in the book then he’d just started naming other people too. “Why?”

“Henry is a very special boy, so smart and creative.  But he’s also very lonely.  Perhaps because of who his father is, or because he’s so clever he’s never been very good at making friends.  I thought the book could help.”

“How does a book make him less lonely?”  For a moment she was back on the bed in one of her group homes, walkman playing music through her headphones and a book in front of her.  She knew what lonely felt like, but her books and music had been a shield, not a solution.

“What do you think stories are for? These stories are classics. There’s a reason we all know them. They’re a way for us to deal with our world. A world that doesn’t always make sense to adults, let alone ten year old boys.”  Mary Margaret sighed.  “What’s the first fairytale you remember someone reading to you?”

“I didn’t get a lot of storytime.”  There had been a family once, that had almost kept her, but then they’d had a child of their own.  She’d tried to forget most of that home; it made the rest of them harder.  “I remember sneaking into a theatre to see Hunchback of Notre Dame once.” 

Mary Margaret bit her lip, looking a little like she wanted to cry.  People raised in happy homes with parents usually assumed that everyone else had the same.  “I gave the book to him because I wanted Henry to have the most important thing anyone can have. Hope. Believing in even the possibility of a happy ending is a very powerful thing.”

Emma was grateful when the bell rang and kids started running for the building.  She didn’t want to know what Mary Margaret’s next question might be.  

“It was nice meeting you, Emma.”  Mary Margaret offered her hand, but before Emma could shake a bird landed on her finger.

“Yeah.”  Maybe Henry’s stories were getting to her too, because for just a second she could understand how Henry could look at his teacher and see Snow White.  “I’ll see you around.”

II

“Are you okay?”  All she’d wanted was a cup of coffee, but she’d barely managed a sip before spilling it on her shirt.  The diner’s owner had directed her to the laundry room of the bed and breakfast next door to clean up.  Now she was faced with a very pregnant and very unhappy pregnant teen that reminded her way too much of herself.  Well, except for the lack of a prison jumper.  

“Last night, I felt contractions and the doctor said that the baby could come any day now.”  She rubbed her belly, one hand resting on it even when she poured bleach into the washing machine.  Apparently the sheets weren’t supposed to be pink.  Emma remembered waking to find her hand on her belly, feeling the movement inside and forcing herself to move her hand, wrapping it around the metal frame of her cell bed.

“Ah.”  What could she say?  Labor was scary and painful, but being that pregnant wasn’t comfortable.

“It’s just that, um, when the… When the baby comes, no one thinks that I can do this. No one thinks I can do anything.”  She looked down at her belly.  “Maybe they’re right.”

“Forget what they think, what do you think?”  She didn’t let herself think about what it what it would have been like to keep her kid.  It hadn’t been possible and it wouldn’t have been Henry’s best life.  She’d made her only possible choice, but that was her.  “What do you want for you and what do you want for this kid?”

“I’m nineteen.”

“A year older than I was.”  And from the looks of her not living on the street at least.

“When you had a kid?”  The girl frowned, as if it had never occurred to her that someone else might have been in the same boat. 

“Yeah. Everyone loves to tell you what you can and can’t do, especially with a kid. For me the right choice was adoption but I was the only person that could make that choice.  You’re the only one that can decide for you.”  Hopefully the mayor wasn’t still looking for a kid.  The idea that she could have been Henry’s mom was still unsettling.

“You don’t understand.  Sean’s father…”

“Doesn’t get to make decisions for you.”  She didn’t wonder where this ‘Sean’ was.  Clearly he wasn’t interested, nor was his father grandparent material.  “You just got to punch back and say, ‘no, this is who I am.’ You want people to look at you differently? Make them. If you want to change things, you’re going to have to go out there and change them yourself, because there are no fairy godmothers in this world.

II

“Gold?”  Emma was restlessly wandering the kitchen, trying to decide if she wanted hot chocolate or a drink from Gold’s decanter when she heard him come down the stairs.

“The alarm from my shop is going off.”  He wore an overcoat and a scarf.  She’d taken the trash out earlier and it had been see-your-breath kind of cold.  That was more than an hour ago.

“Did you want me to come with you?”  Apparently small towns didn’t have security patrols that answered alarms.  So far as she could tell they had one sheriff, and that was about it.

“No, it’s probably just a stray cat trying to get someplace warm.  I won’t be gone fifteen minutes.  Henry’s asleep, I turned off his lamp before I came down.”  He glanced up the stairs.

“Don’t forget gloves,” she suggested before going back into the kitchen to make hot chocolate with cinnamon.  Just thinking about being outside made her cold.  She drank her chocolate while wandering the rooms, looking at the photos on the walls and the odd trinkets.  There was one display case that held nothing but a teacup with a chipped rim; she wondered if the chip made it more or less valuable.  There were pictures of Henry all over the place, one tops of tables and hanging on the walls.  She lost count of how many bookcases there were; Henry’s room had a couple as well.  Gold probably did too, though she hadn’t seen his bedroom.

Emma was washing out her mug when she glanced at the clock and realized it had been more than half an hour since Gold had left, twice the time he’d expected to be gone.  If it was a false attempt to enter the shop he’d be back already; they were only five minutes away.  She slipped her phone out of her pocket and dialed his number.  It rang five times before going to voicemail.

“Crap.”  The way she figured it she only had one choice.  She called the sheriff to ask for a ride.

“Gold?”  She didn’t have a gun with her but she was fast and she was sneaky.  She had the door to the shop open before Graham caught up to her.

“Potential crime scenes are in my job description, not yours. You should let me go first,” Graham suggested.

“Habit,” she said with a shrug, scanning the room.  “This is not that different from what I do.”

“Professional thief?”  There was a hint of humor in his voice that was probably inappropriate but almost made her grin despite her worry.  If anything happened to Gold Henry would be inconsolable.

“Sort of the opposite.  I’m a bail bonds person.”  At least that was part of her job.  She did some bounty hunting as well but that was a little less official and she was talking to the local law.

“Not something we’ve ever had much use of around here.”  There was no one in the main room of the shop so together they moved through the curtain to the back.  Gold was on the floor and he didn’t look like he was moving.

“Shit, shit, shit.”  She turned on the switch, flooding the room with light.  Gold’s chest rose and fell so that was something, at least, but he didn’t flinch at the light.

“I’m going to check out back.”  Graham headed for the door.  Emma knelt next to Gold and looked for injuries.  When she rolled him to his back his hair fell to one side and revealed a bloody gash near his temple.  She didn’t know if the fancy squares in his pocket were supposed to serve any purpose but they were the first thing she grabbed to staunch the blood.

“I hope 911 works in this place.”  She’d never lived in a town small enough to wonder before.

“Don’t bother on my account.”  Gold struggled to sit up but Emma’s light hold on his chest was enough to stop him.  She didn’t realize at first glance how bloodshot his eyes were.

“Slow down there, champ.  Bleeding out on your own office floor is going to make for a pretty embarrassing story.”  Emma frowned.  She should probably ask him some questions or something, but the whole ‘do you know who the president is’ thing never made much sense to her.

“Bleeding?”  His hand went up to his head, fingertips coming away sticky and red.  “I must have hit the corner of the desk when I fell.”

“You fell?”  Graham closed the door when he came back in, and the lack of a draft made the place feel warmer.

“Must have been an uneven patch on the floor.  I should have turned the light on.”  This time he did sit up, wincing a little as he did so.  

“There wasn’t anyone else in here?”  Graham looked skeptical, which was fair because Emma knew that Gold was lying through his teeth.  It was the first lie she’d caught him in.

“No one but me and my shadow.”  He grasped for his cane but didn’t try to stand.  “Thank you for your service, sheriff, but it was a false alarm.  I’m sure Ms. Swan won’t mind driving my car home and you probably should get back to a warm bed somewhere.”

“I could follow you home just to be sure,” Graham offered.  He seemed to be reluctant to leave.

“We’ll call if we need you.”  Gold sat perfectly still until Graham was gone and the sound of the front door closing meant he’d left the building.

“Are you going to tell me now why you were lying?”  Emma stood and held out her hand.  After a moment Gold held on firmly and let her help him to stand.  She didn’t comment on the fact he’d needed help, or that he leaned on the cane more heavily than usual.

“I’d rather wait until we’re home, if you don’t mind.  I don’t like leaving Henry alone in the house.  If you wouldn’t mind locking the back door, please.”  He limped towards the front without waiting for her reply.  She made note of the fact that the lock was pretty crappy and there was a pane of broken glass that she would bet anything wasn’t broken an hour ago.  Calling it locked was a joke, really. The front door at least had a bolt.

“So are you going to tell me now?” she asked when they were back at the house and she’d run upstairs to check on Henry.  He was still sleeping.  Gold was patting his face dry with a towel, his jacket off and his sleeves rolled up.  “Do you need a bandaid?”

“It’s fine,” he said dismissively with a wave of his hand.  “I’m having a drink, would you like one?”

“I’d like the truth.”  She took the drink, though, when he led her out of the kitchen and into the library.

“There was someone in my shop tonight.  A young woman that clearly needed help; she was quite wound up, not acting like herself at all.”

“And she hit you?”  Who in the world broke into a pawn shop and stole things?

“No, no.  She used pepper spray on me, threw me off my balance.  I really did hit the desk.”  He touched his wound lightly with a couple of fingers and winced.  At least it wasn’t bleeding.  “I’ve never seen her like that before.”

“You know her?”

“She’s a client, of sorts.”  He paused for a moment to sit on the sofa, raising his leg to rest on the ottoman.  “You see, Emma, there’s no lawyer here in Storybrooke.  I’m rather good with contracts, and sometimes people come to me for help with deals.  Ashley Boyd sought me out a few months ago.  She’s a young girl, only a year out of high school, and there’s a babe on the way.  Neither her family, such as it is, or the father are helping her.  She wanted to discuss options.”

“You were brokering an adoption?”  She had a sinking suspicion that she knew exactly who he was talking about.  It couldn’t be a coincidence that she’d talked to a young pregnant girl hours ago about ‘punching back’ and a young pregnant girl had broken into the shop and assaulted Gold.  Great.

“I was.  There’s a couple here in town, actually, that has been trying for years to have a child.  They have a nursery ready and names picked out.  I have a keen interest in helping families find each other.”  He glanced towards the hall and the staircase going up to his son’s room.  “She never seemed happy but she was relieved that someone would love and raise her child.  Perhaps reality is setting in now that she’s so close to having the baby.  She was raving about changing her destiny, and something confusing about godmothers.”

“Where is she now?”  Shit, it was the same girl.  And a family that might not get a baby they’d been waiting for, but if Ashley wanted her baby she deserved that chance.  Either way someone was going to lose.

“I don’t know.  She lives at the bed and breakfast and doesn’t have a car.  Her parents are both dead but there’s a stepmother.  I didn’t want to send the sheriff after her, she doesn’t need a record for one confused moment, but we should find her.”

“In the morning.”  She frowned, and wondered again about his wound.  “Are you sure you don’t need to see a doctor?  How do you know it’s safe to go to bed?”

“I’m far too stubborn and thick-headed for a little bump to cause any problems.”  He downed most of his drink in a single gulp.  Maybe the drink helped, because he was more steady on his feet when he stood and left the room.  Emma was about to follow when her phone rang.  It was a Maine area code.

“Hello?”  She hadn’t given her number to anyone except Gold and the guy at the repair shop.  It was a weird time to be calling about her car.

“I just wanted to be sure you made it home safely.  No ill effects?”  The sheriff’s voice was easily identifiable.

“Are you really conscientious or really bored?”  She didn’t bother asking how he had her number.  She was curious why he’d gotten it.

“Actually I have an ulterior motive.  I have discretionary funds in my budget for a deputy, and since your job isn’t that different I thought you might be interested.”

“I’m only in town for a week.”  Less than that now, but she wasn’t counting the days.

“Are you sure?  I can offer you dental, as well as donuts.  The hours are flexible and the boss is easy to work for.”  He laughed, and Emma found herself smiling.  She couldn’t say yes, though.  She had a job and a life in Boston.  Well a job at least.

“Donuts, really?”  She couldn’t think of anything else to say.  

“Sometimes the cliches are true.  I know a place that makes really good donuts.  Maybe I can show you, even if you’re only staying a week.  And maybe you’ll change your mind about staying.”  He reminded her of Henry for a moment.  “Anyway the offer’s genuine if you change your mind.  Both the job and the donuts.”

“Thanks.”  She couldn’t accept the job offer, of course, and it probably was a bad idea to go out with Graham even if it was just donuts.  Donuts could easily mean coffee too, and then they were heading into dangerous pseudo date territory.  This time next week she’d be in Boston.  Leaving behind Henry would be hard enough without making friends with more people.

Emma drained her glass and carried it into the kitchen before heading up to bed.  She deliberately didn’t check in on Henry before closing her bedroom door.  She didn’t need it to become a habit.

[ecto-american]

Community

DannyMay 2019 themed story, I’m not late I’m just going my own pace pls be nice to me

Ectoplasm | Broken | Glass | Theory | Or Read on AO3.

Day 22: Community

It was still an absolute mystery why anybody would want to skin Phantom. And it was all Jack could think of while scrubbing the carpet.

He made a giant mix of a laundry detergent and salt like paste to get the ectoplasm out, mixing in some water and non bleach cleaner to try and get the job done. The kitchen would be easier to clean up. He could have Jazz and Danny clean it up when they both got there, while he and Maddie tended to Phantom. For now, he wanted to get the first bit of ectoplasm out of the carpet.

Jack cracked his back as he looked at the stairs he had spent the past hour scrubbing. He could still see the faint traces of where ectoplasm was. It wasn't a perfect clean up, and he mentally calculated the cost of just ripping up the carpet and replacing it. It almost seemed easier than all of this effort. That may be nice. The carpet was getting old anyway. He'd have to ask Maddie her opinion, assuming she couldn't get the final layers of ectoplasm out.

He could hear a faint noise downstairs, and he paused. It was faint, but soon grew louder. That haunting choked gurgling sound. Jack put his cleaning supplies down at the top step, going down and peering into the living room.

Phantom was on his side, grasping a pillow to his chest and shaking hard. Despite not needing to breathe, he was hyperventilating. The ghost arched his back, making a pained groaning. Phantom's eyes locked onto Jack's, and he looked terrified. Jack came to him, putting a hand on his forehead. Phantom was hot, sweating hard.

"What's wrong?" Jack asked dumbly, wincing as all he got in response was a garble accompanied by ectoplasm leaking onto the pillow from Phantom's mouth.

A sharp gasp, and Jack had to narrow his eyes to get past a blinding light. Near Phantom's lower stomach, a blinding light kept flashing. On and off. He watched as it struggled to appear, going as far as to make a line of sorts before it ultimately folded in on itself and disappeared.

Phantom's chest heaved up and down rapidly as green eyes stared off into the ceiling blankly. Jack found himself slowly running his hand through Phantom's hair to soothe him. Slowly, Phantom's eyes began to droop as the human-like breathing pattern slowed down considerably. After a few silent moments, Phantom fell back asleep. He continued "breathing".

Jack didn't dare move away for a moment. What was that light? He had never seen such a thing before. Not around Phantom, not around any other ghost. Was it some rare ghostly behavior? What did it mean? The ghost scientist in him was becoming giddy at all the things he was already learning today: ghosts can drink water, ghosts have some sort of skeletal structure, ghosts can sleep, ghosts have this flash of light. And they can be skinned. Jack tried to ignore the last one.

With Phantom settled, he moved back up the stairs to where he left his supplies. He sighed, simply tired at the mere idea of mindlessly scrubbing at the carpets in his son's room. And the laundry. Jack went into Danny's room, looking at the mess Phantom had made. The ghost seemingly didn't touch anything in Danny's room, to Jack's relief. If Phantom had tried to snoop, it would have been much creepier. From what he could tell, he went straight for the bed. Why he didn't just crash on the couch, Jack wasn't sure.

He picked up the pillows and began to strip them of their cases, carelessly tossing the pillows to the side of the room for now. Jack began stripping the blanket and sheets when something shiny caught his eye. He paused, searching for it within the bed and feeling something hard hidden within the covers. Curiously, he began shaking the blankets until the object fell out and rolled onto the floor. He shook the blanket a little more. Something else fell out. He continued shaking, but nothing else escaped the blankets, and a quick pat down confirmed that there was nothing else there.

Jack investigated what fell out. A Fenton Thermos and a cell phone. He reached down to pick up the thermos. Maddie and him both knew Phantom had been stealing and using Fenton tech for a while. Least now was a good chance for them to finally take back some of their property. He set it on the nightstand for now.

The cellphone had a unique case he recognized instantly. A NASA case that Danny had gotten. This was Danny's phone. Clicking the home button and seeing the background of Danny with Sam confirmed it, complete with the notifications that Jack had called earlier and left messages, alongside others for social medias and texts from friends. Jack was so confused. Why did Phantom have his son's phone?

No, no. He couldn't blame Phantom for this. Could he? This was Danny's room. Of course his stuff was all over the place. Jack wouldn't be surprised if Danny straight up forgot his phone in his room before leaving. Danny always seemed to lose his phone.

Despite this line of reasoning, Jack still felt off. Something was missing and weird, but he couldn't place it. He pocketed his son's phone for now, grabbing the dirty laundry as he studied the bed, and he froze.

The mattress was covered in stains. Fresh green ectoplasm, but he could see the faded marks of somebody having tried to clean ectoplasm from the bed before. Pale brown-red stains that had been lifted as much as possible from the bed. Jack's heart sank at this. Did Maddie know? No, she refused to make the kids' beds anymore. Jazz and Danny were responsible for making their own beds. Dear God, why was there so much dried and old blood all over the bed? And ectoplasm?

Jack couldn't help but continue staring at the mess as his mind raced. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong, and the reality that he had no clue where his son was, nor could he get a hold of him, hit him like a brick wall.

He hurriedly took the sheets to the laundry room, shoving them in the washer. With a rushed laze, he eyeballed some laundry soap and cleaning supplies before turning the washer on. A check of the dryer confirmed that it was still full of laundry that needed folding. He sighed. Jack pulled out his cell phone and dialed Angela. As he waited, he began to fold and place the laundry in a basket. After a few rings, Tucker's mom answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Angela, it's Jack," Jack greeted her.

"Oh, hello, Jack, how are you?" she spoke sweet as ever.

"Not so well," Jack confessed. "Has Danny been over? Is he there now? I found his phone in his room, and I can't find him."

"No, he hasn't been here since yesterday. Tucker's here though, hold on a moment," Angela assured him. He could hear her call for her son, and the vague chatter of a brief conversation between them. Jack patiently waited as he continued to fold. "Tucker hasn't seen him since school today, but I'll give you a call if I see him."

Disappointed, Jack thanked her and moved onto Pamela.

"Hey, Pam, it's Jack," he began, and he decided to cut to the chase before she could hang up on him. "Listen, Danny's missing. I can't find him, and he left his phone at home. Has he been there?"

A pause. "No." To his surprise, Pamela actually sounded a bit concerned. "I haven't really seen him around since maybe three days ago? I know Samantha told me that she saw Danny today in school, but not really much else."

"Thanks," Jack replied half-heartedly. "Please call me if you hear from him."

"I will, of course. I hope he turns up."

Jack hung up, absolutely lost. He stared at the pile of laundry he had folded and stacked on top of the dryer. Where next? Danny didn't really have many friends outside of Tucker and Sam. Who else could he possibly be with?

He scrolled through his phone before coming upon a number. Mr. Lancer. He immediately clicked on the contact, and pressed the phone to his ear.

"Mr. Fenton?" a voice finally answered after several rings.

"Yes," Jack confirmed quickly. "Have you seen Danny?"

"Of course, he was in school today. He had detention, and he served it. For once, without incident. I suggested he go to the school library to get his homework done, and he agreed, but he was gone when I checked by an hour later," Mr. Lancer confirmed. Jack felt a small rush of excitement. It was small, but he felt like he was finally narrowing down some possibilities. "Is something wrong?"

"He's gone, and he left his phone here," Jack explained. "I can't get ahold of him, and none of his friends have seen him. I haven't seen him myself since this morning." There was a long pause from Mr. Lancer.

"Daniel was in trouble for having his cell phone out during class," Mr. Lancer finally told him. Jack had no clue how to take this information.

"He must have come home since then," Jack mused, mostly to himself. "Well, thank you. Please call me if you see him. Tell him I'm very worried, and that there's been a minor incident at home. I need him here as soon as possible."

"Will do. I heavily recommend getting the police involved if he's not home by curfew," Mr. Lancer suggested. Jack nodded, feeling his mouth dry.

"I will, of course. Thank you. Goodbye."

Feeling out of options, Jack hung up. He silently finished folding the laundry, leaving it to sit on the top of the dryer for now. He moved to go downstairs to check on Phantom.

He was still sleeping, "breathing" and looked so much paler. He fidgeted in his sleep, still sweating, and Jack could hear a soft grind whenever Phantom would give the occasional soft exhale. He wondered if Phantom would need more medicine, but he checked the time. Maddie should be here shortly, and he didn't want to risk Phantom being too out of it to talk to them.

Jack stood staring. He told himself he was just watching for the light again. Curious to understand it, but it wasn't that. Something was wrong. The feeling kept building, and it made him still unable to eat more than a slice of the cold pizza he had brought home. Even fudge didn't sound appealing.

He wished Phantom could talk, so that he could give him some answers. Why was he here? What happened to him? Why did he steal FentonWorks technology? Why was his son's phone in the bed with him? Why did he even come here in the first place? It was a confusing mystery, and Jack knew he was missing pieces but had no idea where he'd even begin hunting for them.

Jack shifted to take a seat, telling himself he needed a break from cleaning up ectoplasm. Maddie was so close to being here. She was always better at this kind of puzzle-solving, and this was one hell of a puzzle.