thetimeladyswan

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[thetimeladyswan]

If The Sky Comes Falling Down

Title: If The Sky Comes Falling Down

Summary: He needed to know – he needed to find his brother. The Saviour who could break the curse that enveloped the town. The one who could prove that Keith’s memories of him were real. Once Upon a Time AU.

Rating: T

Read it here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12392777/1/If-The-Sky-Comes-Falling-Down

                      http://archiveofourown.org/works/9914768

one.

Shiro could not remember what his life was before sixteen years of age. He had been found, wandering with no memory. He had retained a name – Shiro – whether it was his first or last he did not know, but he knew it was his. His age had been the only other nugget of information he had remembered; his birthday had become the day he was found.

 He had ended up in the foster system – his parents nowhere to be found. He had emerged fairly well-rounded, found a job and an apartment, continued his life.

 A life that was normal, despite the void where the memories of the first fifteen years of his life should have been.

 two.

Keith’s life was anything but normal. Cursed to be separated from his family, to live his days not quite knowing if his memories were real or dreams of an existence better than the one he currently lead.

 He needed to know – he needed to find his brother. The Saviour who could break the curse that enveloped the town. The one who could prove that Keith’s memories of him were real.

 three.

The town was odd – that was all Shiro could say about it. Keith was silent, as he had been for most of the journey, hunched against the window. He offered no commentary on his hometown, merely staring at the familiar (to him, not to Shiro) buildings as they passed by.

 “Okay,” said Shiro, breaking the silence. “Where do your parents live?”

 “Our parents,” Keith began, still gazing out the window, “aren’t together. They haven’t even met here, and they don’t know who I am. It’s a part of the curse.”

 Shiro frowned, trying to meet his apparent brother’s eye. “So where do you live?”

 He shrugged. “Wherever I can.”

 “You’re homeless?”

 Keith sighed, finally twisting around in his seat to face him. “The curse, it’s supposed to make us miserable. Taking us away from our families, check one. Making us forget our past lives, check two.”

 “You remember.”

 His mouth curled into a thoughtful expression. “It doesn’t work on me the same was as everyone else. My theory is that some of your Saviour magic worked on me too.”

 “How long have you been cursed?” asked Shiro next.

 “Nine years, I think. I’m seventeen now. You’re … twenty-five.”

 He blinked. “How do you know that?”

 “I’m your brother.”

 “I suppose you are. Okay, where can we stay the night?”

 Keith brightened at the use of ‘we’. “Take a left at the top of the street …”

 .

 Across town, in a hospital bed, a woman who had spent the last nine years in a coma opened her eyes.

 four.

When Shiro awoke the next morning, the bed and breakfast room he had rented to share with Keith showed no sign of his roommate. Resolved to the worst case scenario, he dressed quickly, wondering just how difficult it would be to find Keith in a town this small, even if it was unfamiliar to him.

 He was collecting the keys to the room and his car when the door opened.

 “You’re awake,” said Keith, shutting the door before he continued. “I thought you’d still be asleep when I got back. I go to the hospital every morning to check on a friend of mine, Allura.”

 The way he paused made Shiro uneasy, as though he were supposed to remember who Allura was.

 “She’s awake,” he finished eventually. “She’s been in a coma for as long as the curse, I think it’s a good sign.”

 “The curse can be broken that easily?” asked Shiro, frowning.

 Keith shook his head empathically. “No, it’s gonna take more than you being here. But this is a start. Do you want to go for breakfast? There’s a diner downstairs.”

 five.

She could not remember her name, nor anything else about herself. Allura, the boy who had visited her that morning had called her. It settled somewhere under her skin. Perhaps it was her name.

 But how could the boy know?

 She asked the nurses. “The boy who visited me this morning, Keith, did I know him?”

 “He never talked to us. Comes to visit you every day, though.”

 If that was the case, she could ask him tomorrow.

 “Eleanor, thank god! I thought I’d never see you again.” A man burst into the room, immediately restrained by hospital orderlies. The nurse addressed him.

 “Sir, this patient is an amnesiac, if you would please—”

 “Eleanor,” he said again, “you don’t remember me?”

 Eleanor, was that her name? Or was Allura? She could not remember.

 “I don’t know who you are,” she said. I don’t know who I am.

 six.

Keith provided a running commentary over breakfast, telling Shiro about the people who came into the diner – who they were, what the curse had done to them.

 “That’s Pidge – Katie under the curse. We were friends before the curse was cast.”

 Shiro listened without complaint, though Keith was sure that the info-dump was likely grating on his brother’s nerves.

 “Are you okay?”

 “It’s just—” he gestured in an encompassing circle with a fork. “This is a lot to take in. A few hours ago I didn’t have a family. Now I’ve got to break a curse? I don’t even know how.”

 “I’m sorry,” said Keith, voice soft as he tried to think of the best thing to say. “I’m going to help you as much as I can. It’s okay that you don’t know how to break the curse. We’ll figure it out.”

 Shiro nodded. “Thanks, Keith.”

 seven.

Keith left for school after breakfast, giving Shiro his number and making it clear that he had no problems with ditching if he was needed. Shiro, who was surprised that Keith even attended school given that he had nowhere to call home, insisted that he go.

 He decided that he would use the time alone to familiarise himself with the town. Breaking the curse was not going to be a quick task, if there was even a curse to break. He would likely have to stay in Storybrooke for a while.

 It was a quaint town, much smaller than any Shiro had ever visited. People went about their business, some pausing to look at him when they realised he was not one of their own townspeople. On a street corner, he met the Sheriff.

 “You’re new,” said the man, with an easy smile.

 “Is it a crime to visit the town?” he replied, earning a laugh.

 “No, no, not at all. Sam Holt, nice to meet you.”

 They shook hands. “Shiro, I’m Keith’s brother. I’m going to be here for a while.”

 “Keith …” Sheriff Holt paused as he seemed to remember who Shiro was talking about. “It’s good that he has family. He’s a good kid.”

 Shiro nodded, bidding the sheriff goodbye and continuing on his way.

 The layout of the town was fairly simple, and Shiro was confident that he could find his way around it. He sent a text to his brother, asking what time he would finish school at. They had things to discuss; if Shiro was going to stick around for a while, he’d need a job, and they’d need somewhere to live. Staying at Sal’s B&B forever was not an option.

 eight.

In her dreams, she knew who she was; a princess, a warrior.

 Her father told her to run, to get to safety, and she had no choice but to obey him. She heard the sing of metal on metal as she made her escape, the grunts and cries of battle, and she forced herself not to turn her head.

 The younger prince ran to her, trying to tell her everything that had happened, his words emerging a jumbled mess. His parents were trying to hold off the witch so that his brother could escape, the curse was approaching on the horizon, he was scared.

 She tried to console the prince, but eventually left him to rush to where she heard commotion echoing down the halls.

 The elder prince was still there, risking his life when he should have been long gone. She called to him.

 “Takashi, go!”

 After looking between her and his frantically nodding parents, he did.

 “Where are you sending him?” asked the witch menacingly. She stretched out a hand and the princess found herself trapped by magic, unable to move.

 “Somewhere you can’t find him,” said the queen, voice strong though she trembled. “It’s over, Haggar. Your curse will be broken. We will defeat you and Zarkon.”

 A menacing smile. “We’ll see about that.”

 She disappeared, reappearing before the princess. Still paralysed, she could do nothing as the witch plunged a blade into her stomach.

 She fell, like a puppet with its strings cut, and …

 Awoke in her hospital bed.

 Once she had slowed her breathing, and the heart monitor at her bedside sounded less like it would explode, she felt her stomach. There was a scar there, consistent with the injury she had sustained in her dream. She knew it was a dream; there were no witches in the real world, and she was not a princess.

 A knock on the door startled her. She looked up to see Keith, the boy who had visited her yesterday – everyday, according to the nurse she had talked to.

 “Hey, Allura. Did I wake you?”

 She shook her head. “No, come in.”

 He did, settling into the chair by her bed. “How are you feeling?”

 “All right, I think,” she replied truthfully. “I don’t remember anything.”

 “I think that’s normal.”

“Keith? Why do you call me Allura? Did you know me before this happened?”

 It took him a moment to reply. “No, I didn’t. You never had any visitors here, so I started to come in to see you. No one knew your name, so I called you Allura. I can stop?”

 “No … it feels right. Like it belongs to me.”

 Keith smiled.

 nine.

Knowing this time that Keith would pay a visit to the hospital before breakfast, Shiro was unworried when he woke to find the other bed empty.

 He ordered breakfast for himself and Keith (hoping that his brother would be all right with the same thing he’d had the morning before) and asked the waitress, a girl called Shay, where he could buy a newspaper.

 “Here, you can have this one,” she smiled, passing him one from the edge of the counter. “We’re finished with it.”

 “Thank you,” he replied, unfurling the Storybrooke Daily Mirror as the waitress moved onto her next customer. He found the listings for work and apartments, scanning both.

 “Looking for jobs?” asked Keith in greeting, sliding onto a stool beside Shiro. He looked cheerful.

 “Can’t use up all my savings. Got any recommendations?”

 “You could try the Sheriff’s Station,” Keith suggested, “Samuel Holt was our—” he paused as Shay delivered their food, “our master-at-arms. He’s Pidge’s dad. Not here, I don’t think they’ve ever even met.”

 “I met him yesterday,” said Shiro, thoughtful as he took a sip of his coffee. Keith dumped an obscene amount of sugar into his before he did the same. “He seemed like a good person.”

 He nodded. “So, you could try that. Or – what did you do in New York?”

 “Whatever work I could pick up.”

 “Or you could do whatever work you can pick up.”

 “I’ll check out the Sheriff’s Station,” said Shiro, laying down the newspaper in favour of his breakfast.H

 ten.

Sheriff Holt turned out to be more than happy to hire him at the station, so much so that Shiro was suspicious. He explained, however, that he was good at reading people and had known almost instantly that Shiro was trustworthy. Shiro wasn’t exactly sure what to make of that.

 He declined the offer of a Deputy uniform, knowing that it would make him stand out even more than he did as the stranger in town.

 When he clipped the Deputy badge to his jacket, the ground shook with tremors. He looked worryingly at Sam, but the Sheriff grinned.

 “Ready for your first day on the job?”

 .

 Arriving on the scene, they discovered that one of the mining tunnels that ran underneath the town had collapsed.

 “Who is this?” asked the mayor, a woman by the name of Helena, who Shiro had not met. She was clearly suspicious of him.

 “My name is Shiro,” he replied, smiling as genuinely as he dared. “I’m Keith’s brother, and the new Deputy.”

 “Deputy?” she repeated, turning to Sam.

 “It’s in my budget,” he defended.

 “Indeed. Well, Deputy, why don’t you make yourself useful by helping calm down the crowds?”

 She turned to face the townspeople, clearly intent on giving a speech, but was cut off by a woman rushing towards the collapsed mine entrance, yelling intelligibly.

 “Katie! Please, my daughter is down there!”

 Katie? Shiro was sure he had heard that name somewhere before … Pidge, Keith’s friend.

 If she was Pidge’s real mother, and not a family connection made by the curse, she didn’t recognise Sam. Shiro understood now, more than he had by merely listening to Keith’s stories, what the curse had done.

 “You have to help her!” she implored the Sheriff, who may have been her husband in another life.

 So it was that Shiro ended up being hoisted down an air shaft, torch in hand, calling for Katie.

 He found her stowing rock samples away in her backpack. She was a scientist, she explained, and had not expected the tunnel to collapse.

 “All that matters is that you’re safe,” he told her, relieved to have found her unharmed. “Your mother is worried about you.”

 Katie sighed at this. “She always does. But I’m fine.”

 “Still, I’d be more careful in the future if I were you.”

 After checking the security of the harness, Shiro switched on his walkie talkie. “Sheriff? I’ve found her.”

 There was some static, and then a reply. “Are you ready to come back up?”

 Katie took this as her cue to approach him. When she was in position, he gave an answer. “Ready now.”

 The ascent was a little bumpy, but otherwise uneventful. Katie took the opportunity to quiz him.

 “Who are you, anyway?”

 Shiro laughed. “You let a stranger rescue you?”

 “You're trustworthy, I could tell,” she replied matter-of-factly. A trait she shared with her father, apparently. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”

 “Name’s Shiro, I’m new in town. I just started at the Sheriff’s Station; you’re my first rescue.”

 She seemed unimpressed by his attempt at humour. “What brought you here? We don’t see new people very often.”

 “My brother, Keith, he’s from here. He came to find me.”

 Katie pursed her lips. “The homeless kid?”

 “Not for much longer, if I have anything to do with it.”

 eleven.

The news that she would be released from the hospital was not a surprise, but yet Allura did not know what she would do outside of these walls. The town, it's people were strangers to her. Her only friend was a teenage boy.

 She had been told her history by her so-called fiancé, Liam.  After his initial outburst, he had returned and explained himself. Her name was Eleanor, she had been eighteen when they had gotten engaged, young but sure of their love. After argument, however, she had left for a walk in the woods to clear her head, and had somehow ended up in a coma. He had thought she’d moved, and never connected the Jane Doe in the hospital with her. She had never been identified.

 Keith visited her that morning, as he did every morning. They walked around the outdoor gardens together, and Allura told him the news that she would be discharged later that day.

 “Do you have a place to stay?” he asked.

 She bit her lip. “Yes, I do actually. With my … fiancé. I don’t remember him, but I’m willing to give it a shot. Maybe it’ll jog my memory.”

 Liam still called her Eleanor, which she had decided against accepting as her name, but it was clear that he cared about her. She would make a go of things, for the sake of the Eleanor that was.

 “I hope it works out for you,” he smiled, but it was obviously forced.

 “We can still have our meet ups,” she said, in an effort to cheer him up. “How about at Sal's? I heard they do a mean breakfast.”

 “Sounds good,” he smiled.

 .

 After the mine collapse and the subsequent casualties, Allura’s bed was needed by the hospital more than ever. So, she packed up her meagre belongings and left the relative safety of the hospital.

 twelve.

His conversation with Allura weighed on him over the following days. The curse was not above giving people different families and relationships, if that was what would make them miserable. When it came to Allura, however, Keith was sure that the plan had been for her to remain in a coma. She’d only woken up due to Shiro’s arrival.

 Keith needed to find out who Liam was. Allura had only had one fiancé – Shiro. This engagement was a fabrication of the curse, something that furthered Haggar or Zarkon’s goals.

 The mayor’s office was easy to break into. Finding what he was looking for, not so much. Haggar – or Mayor Helena, as she was known in Storybrooke – did not keep a handy chart of real- to cursed-names.

 He searched instead for records of meetings and dealings the mayor had had over the course of the curse. Lots with Mr. Z, of course – Haggar and Zarkon had always worked together. Finally, he came across the name he was looking for: Liam Zimbel. Reading about the meetings he’d had with Haggar, Keith realised who it was.

 “Lotor,” he said aloud.

 Just as he had made his discovery, he was bathed in light.

 thirteen.

It was a slow evening at the station. Shiro was on his fifth cup of coffee of the day, looking over case files when the phone rang, signalling the first interesting thing to have happened since lunch.

 “Sheriff’s Station,” Sam answered. “Madam Mayor, what seems to be the problem? … I understand … I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

 When he hung up the phone, he was grinning. Shiro raised an eyebrow.

 “Your little brother finds himself on the wrong side of the law,” the Sheriff explained. “Would you like to handle it or sit here and look disappointed?”

 Shiro laughed. “I’ll stay here.”

 He returned with Keith in tow (thankfully not cuffed) not long after. Keith sighed as Shiro, arms folded, nodded towards a chair.

 “Why did you break into the mayor’s office?” asked Sam.

 “You broke into the mayor’s office?”

 “She’s keeping things from us,” said Keith. “Secret meetings, under the table deals.”

 “That’s politics, kid. It’s not nice, but it’s nothing we can arrest the mayor for. Now, she’s going to want some evidence of punishment. Shiro, I’ll leave that up to you.”

 With a smile to the two of them, Sam retreated to his office.

 Shiro raised an eyebrow at his brother. “What were you thinking?”

 “Allura has a fiancé. She shouldn’t, unless it serves some purpose to Haggar and Zarkon.”

 “It can’t the just a part of the curse?”

 “No.” He shook his head. “They’d want her to be miserable.”

 “Right. So, for your sentence.” His brother raised an eyebrow at the choice of word. “Community service? No, I have just the thing for you.”

 He retrieved the keys from his desk, unlocking one of the holding cells.

 “Seriously?” asked Keith.

 “Seriously. In you go.”

 Begrudgingly, Keith stood from the chair he had been sitting on and entered the cell. Shiro locked it behind him.

 “Wait, you’re leaving me in here?”

 “Time to think about what you’ve done,” said Shiro with a grin. “Plus, I’ll get a much better night’s sleep.”

 fourteen.

Shiro was gracious enough to release Keith before breakfast. He was met with a scowl, and ruffled his brother’s hair in retaliation.

 “Have you learned your lesson?” Shiro joked.

 “Don’t try to help you break the curse? Yeah.”

 After a shower, change of clothes and the promise of breakfast, Keith appeared to feel much better. His mood only improved when he and Shiro entered the diner.

 “Allura!” he said, approaching a blonde woman at the counter.

 “Keith!” she beamed, accepting his hug. She glanced over his shoulder. “And you must be Shiro?”

 “That’s me,” Shiro smiled, offering a hand to her. “Nice to meet you.”

 They shook hands, and Shiro felt a shock of electricity. Allura had probably picked up some static from Keith’s jacket. She seemed not to notice, but something shifted in her eyes, a slight frown creasing her brow.

 “How have you been?” asked Keith, and she turned back to him, shaking her head slightly.

 fifteen.

Allura continued to meet with Keith (and occasionally Shiro) for breakfast at Sal’s over the following weeks, dodging any and all questions about her fiancé. Keith was suspicious, she knew, but he never pushed the issue.

 None of her memories had returned to her, and nothing about Liam made her feel as though she had fallen in love with him as a teenager. Perhaps it had been madness, and they’d been too young to know better.

 She knew now; she had to leave. She could stay at Sal’s B&B until she found somewhere to live.

 Liam did not take well to the news. “Eleanor—”

 “My name is Allura, now,” she told him. “Maybe it wasn’t always, and maybe I loved you, once, but I think I deserve the chance to start over. Maybe this happened to me for a reason. A clean slate.”

 .

 The door to the pawn shop swung open with an almighty ring of the bell. Its proprietor, known only as Mr. Z to the townspeople, was unperturbed, and continued to polish the brass ornament formed a part of his display.

 “Father,” said Liam, knocking his first on the countertop to further illustrate his impatience.

 “What is it, Lotor?”

 “You promised that under the curse Princess Allura would be mine.”

 “I did,” replied Mr. Z, laying down the rag he had been polishing with. “And then Haggar stabbed her so that she would sleep. Her little way of denying you what you want.”

 “She’s awake now, and still she is not mine.”

 “There is nothing I can do to change that, my dear son. It is the Saviour’s doing.”

 “We need to do something about him.”

 Mr. Z smiled. “I couldn’t agree more.”

 sixteen.

“Looking for a place?”

 Shiro looked up at the familiar voice to find Allura smiling at him. She sat across from him in the diner booth.

 “Yeah,” he answered. “Keith and I can’t stay here forever.”

 She nodded. “A B&B isn’t a great long-term arrangement.”

 He remembered Keith telling him that Allura had left her fiancé. “You’re in the market for a place too, aren’t you?”

 “Yes,” she sighed, though she smiled at Shay when the waitress arrived with the coffee she must have ordered, thanking her. “Not so much luck so far. Wait—” her eyes lit up. “Why don’t we look for somewhere together, you me and Keith? It’d be a lot easier to find one apartment than two, and the rent would be less … towering.”

 Shiro considered her words. She and Keith were firm friends, and Shiro couldn’t foresee any problems with living with her. It was a good idea.

 “As long as Keith doesn’t have any issues with it, sounds like a plan.”

 Allura beamed.

 seventeen.

They found a two-bedroom loft apartment in the centre of town. Shiro and Keith were by then accustomed to sharing a room, so continuing to do so wasn’t an issue. It was a step up from staying in the bed and breakfast, in any rate. Keith was delighted with the change, but Shiro had the distinct feeling that he was hiding something.

 “There’s something you should know,” said Keith, finally, as he and Shiro unpacked the boxes that had arrived from Shiro’s old apartment. “You and Allura knew each other, back home. You were … betrothed to each other.”

 Shiro gripped the mug he'd taken out of its box a little tighter than was strictly necessary. “We were engaged?”

 “Betrothed,” Keith corrected. “It’s not like you proposed to her. It was set up between our parents and hers. It’s the way things are back home.”

 “And we were okay with it?”

 Keith shrugged. “I think so. You were friends, at least. If you did have feelings for her, you weren’t going to tell your kid brother. I just thought you might want to know, now that we're living with her.”

 “Yeah, it’s – good to know. Thanks.”

 eighteen.

There was something about having a place to live – a place that did not scream 'temporary' as the B&B and the places he had been able to find shelter had – that settled him. It made him more hopeful, even confident that Shiro could break the curse. He allowed himself to imagine seeing his parents again, his friends.

 All he could see at that present moment was a boy blocking his way.

 It was no one Keith had known at home, but he thought he had seen the boy somewhere in Storybrooke before. Around his own age, and arrogant, if Keith’s instinct was anything to go by.

 He grinned at Keith’s scowl. “Lance McClain, a pleasure.”

 “Keith Kogane. Wish I could say the same. If you’d excuse me …”

 “The Deputy’s baby brother, right?” asked Lance, infuriating grin still in place. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

 “That’s nice,” replied Keith, deadpan. “Now—”

 “If I’d excuse you? No problem.” He made an over exaggerated sweeping bow, stepping aside to let Keith pass.

 He felt a profound relief that he hadn’t known Lance before the curse.

 nineteen.

“Sam?” asked Shiro, tossing his keys onto his desk. It was rare that he had to open the Sheriff’s Station, and he hadn’t heard from his boss since the previous day.

 There was no sign of him at the station. Shiro frowned, trying his cell again. It went straight to voicemail, this time. It must have gone dead.

 Shiro considered his options. If Sam was missing, he was now Acting Sheriff, and it was his responsibility to find him.

 Checking the files found him a landline and home address. Sam Holt lived alone in Storybrooke, cut off from his previous family by the curse. He knew that Katie lived with her mother, and Matt lived alone, and none of them had any inkling of the connection they shared. That was par for the course, but it would be much easier if Shiro had someone to question.

 The landline rang out, Shiro hanging up before he was asked to leave a message. His next move was visiting the house. He debated whether to lock up the station or not for a moment, before deciding that the townspeople might panic if they saw the station locked up and learned that the Sheriff was missing.

 The front door of the house swung open when he touched it, and the place was empty. There were minor signs of a struggle. A kitchen chair was overturned, a glass smashed.

 Sam was gone, that much was clear. And it seemed as though he had been abducted.

 .

 He called a meeting at the town hall, with some help from Keith as to what the protocol was.

 “Sam Holt has disappeared,” he announced to the gathered crowd, allowing time for the gasps and murmurs of disbelief. “As his Deputy, I accept the responsibility of Acting Sheriff and promise to do anything I can to bring him home safely. If anyone has any information, please contact the Sheriff’s Station. Thank you.”

 Keith looked despondent when Shiro approached him. He looked up at him. “This isn’t good.”

 “No,” Shiro sighed. “It’s not.”

 twenty.

It was at the edge of sleep that memories flooded his mind – a jumble, not many of them tangible, but all of them real. He knew which one to share.

 “Keith?” he asked into the darkness of the room he shared with his brother.

 “Yeah?” came the sleepy reply.

 “I remember when you were born.”

 There was a sharp intake of breath, but no reply, leaving him room to continue.

 “There were celebrations everywhere, the people were delighted to have another prince. Mom and Dad were so happy. They were always happy; I guess that’s what true love is.”

 “If you’re remembering stuff,” said Keith, slowly, “it means that the curse is weakening. And I think I know how to break it.”

 “How?”

 “True love’s kiss,” he answered, a smile in his voice, clearly thinking of their parents. “It can break any curse.”

 “So, we need to get Mom and Dad together? How are we going to do that?”

 “Sleep now, plan later.”

 Shiro couldn’t argue with that, and settled back into sleep. In his dreams, he remembered further. Keith’s birth had been the first time he’d met Allura – she and her father had come to congratulate them. Perhaps that had been when their betrothal had been arranged. He could not know, unless he remembered more.

 He hoped he did.

 twenty-one.

Living with Keith and Shiro had calmed Allura, slightly. The overwhelming feeling of not knowing who she was had abated; she knew enough. She was Allura, she worked at the animal shelter (where she had taken a particular shine to a trio of mice and was considering adopting them). She was Shiro and Keith’s housemate, their friend.

 She was always the first to wake in their apartment. The first to shuffle into the kitchen and the one who prodded their coffee machine into submission. It was calming to sit at the kitchen island with her coffee, a slice of peace before the other two got up.

 Keith was the first of the brothers to rise, usually. He poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot Allura had brewed, thanking her with a yawn. Three spoons of sugar later, it was drinkable to him. He joined her at the island, sipping at his sweetened drink.

 By the time Allura had finished her coffee, Shiro had completed their trio. He brought with him conversation – Allura and Keith were happy to sit in silence, but Shiro liked to talk with them.

 They decided, then, whether they would make breakfast or go to Sal’s. It was a healthy mix of both, by Allura’s estimation. Wherever they ate, once they had finished they trickled away in reverse the order they had arrived. Shiro first, to the Sheriff’s Station; then Keith, to school; lastly Allura, to the shelter.

 Her boss, Coran, was a little on the eccentric side, but she got along well with him. They both cared about the animals they were looking after, which was the most important thing.

 Lunch was usually shared with someone; whether that was Keith, Shiro or Coran varied from day to day. Dinner was always with the brothers, and they spent the evening together watching television or talking.

 She was content with her new life.

 twenty-two.

There had been no break-throughs on the Sam Holt case. People had come forward to share the last time they had seen him, but none of the information had been useful to Shiro.

 That was until he received a phone call telling him that Sam had been spotted in the woods on the night of his disappearance. He set off on a wilderness search, leaving a note on his desk for Keith or Allura came to invite him to lunch.

 He found the Sheriff’s badge along a path in the forest, and felt more confidence in his search. He came across a man standing on the crest of a hill. He smiled at Shiro.

 “Lovely view, isn’t it? I think some people forget the beauty of their own town, always wanting to travel. I don’t think we’ve been introduced. My name is Mr. Z. You must be Shiro, of course. Our new Deputy.”

 “Acting Sheriff until we can find Sam Holt,” he corrected, trying not to let his uneasiness show on his face. This was Zarkon; the mastermind of the curse, according to Keith.

 “Of course. What a shame that he disappeared like that.”

 Shiro, whose uneasiness had morphed into fear, turned to leave, and was met by three men, blocking his way.

 “What is going—?” he began to ask, but had fallen to the ground before he could finish the question.

 twenty-three.

“Shiro?” asked Keith, as he entered the Sheriff’s Station. His after-lunch class had been cancelled, leaving him the freedom to share a long lunch at Sal’s with his brother … if he could find him.

 “Shiro?” he tried again, looking around. He found a note on the desk; Gone to follow a tip in the woods, will probably miss lunch. He picked up his phone to call his brother, before realising that Shiro had left his cell on the desk along with the note.

 He went to Allura for lunch instead, telling her about what he’d seen at the station.

 “Maybe he found something about the Sheriff,” she suggested. “We should go and see after we eat.”

 They did so, only to find the station just as deserted as it had been earlier.

 Allura bit her lip. “I’ll go and see if there’s any sign of him in the forest. You should go back to school.”

 Ignoring the instinct that told him to protest; to insist Allura let him accompany him. “Okay, text me when you find him.”

 .

 “I made some coffee,” mumbled Allura, offering him a mug. He took it, whispering his gratitude. He didn’t think she had heard it, but she nodded as though she had. She sat on the sofa beside him, tugging gently on the blanket – a request to share.

 He granted it, pulling the blanket over so that Allura could cover her feet with it.

 They did not speak, merely sitting there in silent solidarity. They were both worried about Shiro, and they knew there was no point in speaking reassurances. “I’m sure he’ll turn up” and “he’ll be fine” would fall flat.

 They were just … there for each other.

 twenty-four.

He and Lance had fallen into some form of a friendship, but the sight of him still made Keith sigh.

 “Hey, Mullet,” Lance grinned, using the infuriating nickname he had given him on their second meeting.

 “I don’t have time for this right now, I’m busy.”

 “Looking for your brother?” asked Lance, lips curling into a smile when he realised it was true. “Being Sheriff is a dangerous occupation, huh?”

 “It’s in the job description.”

 “Hmm,” Lance looked thoughtful. “Do you want some help?”

 “Help?” Keith frowned.

 “Yeah, what sort of clues are you looking for?”

 “I don’t know,” he admitted with a sigh. “I just want to do something, so I don’t feel useless.”

 Lance nodded. “I get it. I’ll help you, come on.”

 Still bewildered, Keith had no choice but to follow him.

 twenty-five.

He was at school when he received the call. Knowing that it had to be about his brother, he ducked out of the class with a mumbled apology.

 “Hello?”

 “Keith Kogane?” asked the voice on the other end.

 “Yes, speaking.”

 “Your brother has been found. He’s in the hospital, in a stable condition.”

 “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” said Keith, hanging up. His heart hammered in his chest. Shiro’s disappearance had been no accident, he knew, and he wondered what had facilitated his return. Had he been imbued with a cursed identity? Tortured?

 School forgotten, he set off for the hospital, calling Allura on the way. He was Shiro’s emergency contact, but they had no reason to get in touch with her.

 “Keith,” she answered, sounding confused. “Shouldn’t you be at school?”

 “They found Shiro, he’s in the hospital. I’m on my way there now.”

 There was a clatter. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

 .

 There was a doctor present in Shiro’s room when he burst into it.

 “What happened?” Keith asked her.

 “He was found in the woods by a jogger, unconscious. He’s in a coma, but his condition is stable.”

 “Do you know what caused it?”

 “We’re still running tests,” said the doctor, her voice soft and soothing. She had evidently had a lot of practice delivering bad news about her patients. “I’ll let you know as soon as we know anything.”

 “Thank you,” murmured Keith, trying to ignore the rising panic. He was sure he knew what had happened to Shiro. He had heard the tales as a child, after all; the poisoned apple his mother had bitten into to save his father from certain death, the sleeping curse, the true love’s kiss that had awoken her from it.

 It seemed that Shiro had been cursed in the same way as his mother once had.

 twenty-six.

Allura rested a hand on Keith’s shoulder when she arrived at the hospital. He looked back at her, and she smiled reassuringly.

 “He’ll be all right, Keith.”

 He frowned, focusing on his brother’s form. He was more and more convinced that Shiro could not be helped by medicine.

 “Can we talk?”

 He led her to a supply closet where they could talk without anyone overhearing.

 “I know this might sound crazy, but I need you to kiss Shiro.”

 Allura was silent for several seconds. “What? He’s in a coma. You can’t just kiss someone without their consent like that.”

 “It doesn’t have to be on the lips,” Keith pleaded. “Allura, do you trust me?”

 “I—” she looked conflicted.

 “Please, just try it.”

 “Keith.” She spoke his name softly, as though trying to calm a wounded animal. “You’re worried about your brother; you’re not thinking straight. I think you should go home and get some sleep. Shiro’s in good hands here, I promise. The doctors will do everything they can for him.”

 He sighed in defeat. This was not the way the curse would be broken. “You’re – you’re right, Allura. I’ll see you at home.”

 zero.

He knew what he had to do, even as the fear that it would not work threatened to crush him.

 Zarkon had tried to eliminate the Saviour, but Keith would not let that happen.

 He bent down, pressing a light kiss to his brother’s head, praying that it would work.

 Noise returned to the heart monitor – the most wonderful sound he had ever heard, and Keith’s entire body collapsed with relief, falling into the chair by Shiro’s bedside. He opened his eyes.

 “Keith,” he murmured, voice scratchy. “I – I remember.”

 “The curse,” the doctor said, her voice carrying from the doorway. “It’s broken.”

 + one.

Pidge (as everyone had thankfully returned to calling them, once the memories had returned), found their brother quite easily. He was among the group that had spilled onto main street, searching for families, friends, loved ones.

 Takashi – Shiro, he hadn’t been Takashi in a long time – was at the centre of attention, begrudgingly accepting the thanks from the townspeople, saying, “it wasn’t me, it was—”, turning to look for his own brother, and finding that he had disappeared.

 Pidge could talk to Shiro later; they had plenty of time. For now, they wanted the comfort of their brother’s arms, the delusion that everything was all right, for a moment.

 “We need to find dad.”

 + two.

Keith had never respected peace so much as the moments of quiet he was able to find at Granny’s. Everyone who had been in the diner had left, joining the throngs of people gathering in the streets, reuniting with each other. It was easy to pour himself a cup of coffee and to sit in one of the hastily vacated booths.

 The bell jingled to signal that someone else had entered the diner. Keith did not turn around, hoping that it was a stranger, or if it was someone that he knew, that they would respect his evident desire to be alone.

 “Shiro says it was you who broke the curse.”

 Keith repressed a sigh – it was Lance, who fit neither of the criteria. “It depends on how you look at it.”

 The other boy approached the booth, standing by the table rather than sitting down. He looked more uneasy than Keith had ever seen him.

 “Thank you,” he said, blue eyes earnest. “I have a family – if I can find them, and I thought I didn’t. And that’s because of you – or Shiro, whatever.”

 “Why aren’t you looking for your family?” asked Keith, curious. As someone who had lost them during the curse, it stood to reason that Lance would be searching for them. Instead, he was here with Keith.

 “I wanted to apologise, too. For how I acted during the curse. I was a jerk. Maybe we can start over?”

 Keith looked at him, taking him in, and becoming more and more sure about the thought that had burst into his head weeks ago. “Yeah, we can start over. Would you like to go on a date with me?”

 Lance blinked, struck dumb for a moment. Keith bit back a laugh as he waited for a reply. “Um, sure. I mean, yes, I’d love to go on a date with you. Are you sure you want to go on a date with me?”

 Keith reached out, tugging the other boy down to his level. “Lance, I’m sure.”

 And he kissed him. Lance flailed for a second before relaxing against Keith’s lips, kissing him back.

 They smiled at each other for a moment after they broke apart, faces still close to each other.

 The bell rang again, and the peace was disturbed, but, somehow, Keith couldn’t find it in himself to mind.

 fin.

[thetimeladyswan]

me, every single time i get a kudos on ao3: someone liked my writing. one real irl human being read something i wrote and enjoyed it. they thought it was good enough to read to the end and click the button. an actual person. they liked it.

[thetimeladyswan]

Ships in the Night 12/?

Title: Ships in the Night

Summary: Killian Jones and Wendy Darling met in Neverland, and formed a close alliance and friendship. Little did they know that that would lead to spending twenty-eight years living as father and daughter in a town called Storybrooke, Maine.

Rating: T

Read it here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10269456/12/Ships-in-the-Night

http://archiveofourown.org/works/2603012/chapters/20872922

Emma sighed as she set down her newspaper and left the diner. Seeing the way that the town was treating Mary Margaret since they had found out about her affair made her want to punch several people in the face. As the Sheriff, that was perhaps not the best course of action, so instead she strived to cheer her friend up.

“Hey!” she called, catching up to the schoolteacher, who looked a sorry sight, bundled up against the cold, clutching her clipboard to her chest. “Mind if I join you?”

Mary Margaret shook her head, and Emma fell into step beside her. “So, what the hell is Miners Day and why are you beating yourself up over it?”

“It’s an annual holiday celebrating an old tradition,” she explained, her voice sad. “The nuns used to make candles and trade them with the miners for coal.”

“Coal? In Maine? If they were mining for lobster, I’d understand …”

“Look, I don’t know,” Mary Margaret sighed. “Now they use it as a fundraiser. It’s an amazing party. Everyone loves it.”

Emma raised her eyebrows. “Doesn’t seem like everyone loves it.”

“It’s not Miners Day; it’s me. Last week I had ten volunteers. This week they all dropped out.”

“You think this is about what happened with David?” asked Emma, feeling a pang of sadness for her friend.

“Oh, I know it is. A few of them told me as much. I’ve never … been a home-wrecker before.”

“It’s gonna blow over,” Emma assured her, hoping that it was true. Small towns had long memories. “You made a mistake with David; it happens. But you don’t have to do charity to win people’s hearts back.”

“Well, I have to do something. And this is the best I can do.”

She paused.

“Love ruined my life.”

Emma’s phone chirped before she could respond to that statement. “Sheriff Swan.”

“Swan,” the voice of her deputy greeted her. “Can you come to the town line? A gym teacher just called me.”

“Yeah. I’ll be right down,” she hung up the phone, turning to Mary Margaret. “Well, apparently duty calls. But hang in there,” she placed an arm on her friend’s shoulder, hoping to console her. “And if there’s anything I can do to help, I will.”

“I know,” Mary Margaret nodded. “Thank you.”

With a sad smile, she left.

“What’s going on here?” asked Emma, getting out of her car.

“We found Kathryn’s car,” Killian called to her, from where he was investigating the vehicle in question.

“You’re sure it’s hers?”

“Quite sure,” he replied, his face grave. “Did you bring the camera?”

“Yeah,” said Emma, holding it up.

Killian filled her in on what had happened as she began to take some pictures for their investigation.

“Look who it is,” he muttered, as Sidney Glass emerged from his car, own camera in hand.

“Do you mind if I take a look too?”

Killian said nothing, but Emma knew from the tight line of his jaw that he was not happy. She supposed he had known Sidney for longer than she and had formed his own opinion.

“What for?” she asked the reporter.

“Well, just because I got fired from The Mirror doesn’t mean I can’t do a little freelance reporting.”

“This is a private investigation,” Killian said, addressing Emma more than Sidney. She gave a shrug that she hoped conveyed the feeling of ‘What harm could it do?”

“So,” said Sidney, taking their silence as an invitation to take a picture of the car. “What do we got here?”

“Gym teacher found this thing on the side of the road, abandoned,” said Emma, handing the Polaroids to Killian as she snapped another. “Engine running, no one around. It’s registered to Kathryn Nolan.”

“No sign of her, of course.”

“Kathryn Nolan?” asked Sidney, his interest obviously peaked. “Whose husband very publicly left her?”

“I don’t like where you’re going with this, Glass,” said Killian, as he opened the driver door. The reporter took a picture.

“I mean, the story writes itself. If I get a scoop like that, The Daily Mirror would have no choice but to take me back.”

“Calm down tiger,” said Emma, taking a picture of her own as Killian sat into the car and took the keys from the ignition. “You don’t work for Regina anymore.”

“Kathryn got accepted to a law school in Boston,” said Killian. “She was probably headed that way.”

“Exactly," Emma nodded, as the three of them made their way to the back of the car. “Maybe her car broke down, and she hitched the rest of the way. It’s what I would do if I was running away from my problems.”

Killian spared her a glance as he opened the trunk of the car.

“And would you leave your clothes in the car?”

“Time to pull Kathryn’s phone records and find out who she spoke to last.”

“You know if you go through the Sherriff’s Department it’ll take you days to get those,” said Sidney. “I’ve got a contact over at the phone company, used to help me out when I was at the newspaper. I can get those in a couple of hours.”

She glanced at Killian, who raised his eyebrows. Up to her. Turning back to Sidney, she said, “Great. Call me the minute you get your hands on those phone records.”

The three of them looked around at the sight of David’s pickup truck approaching.

“There he is.”

“Time to break the news,” murmured Emma, as the man emerged from his truck.

“You really think he doesn’t know?” asked Sidney.

“Well we’ll find out, won’t we?” said Killian.

The two of them approached David, leaving Sidney behind.

“You know, Swan. I don’t quite trust him.”

She glanced at him. “Who? David?”

“No. Glass. Need I remind you what happened last time you trusted him?”

“I know that he used to be pretty deep in Regina’s pocket,” Emma assured him. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

“All right.”

“You know … this is pretty much a one-person job, so maybe you could go to Mary Margaret and make sure she’s all right … and that she doesn’t find out anything. Not yet at least.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “You want me to babysit your roommate?”

“Killian.”

“Fine,” he sighed, backing away from her. “But this is just because you’re my boss.” He turned around.

“You keep telling yourself that!” she called after him.

He shook his head, laughing as he returned to his car, acknowledging David as he passed.

“Still looking for volunteers?”

Mary Margaret considered him suspiciously. “You want to volunteer?”

Killian smiled. “Yes, I do.”

She cocked her head, her ‘I don’t believe you’ look reminding him strikingly of Emma’s. “Why are you here, Killian?”

“I heard about your misfortune and thought you could use a hand.”

The teacher narrowed her eyes. “Is that a joke?”

“No.”

“Emma put you up to this, didn’t she?”

Killian sighed. “I assure you, lass. I am not here because of Emma.” He was there because of the investigation, a different matter altogether.

“Then why are you here?”

“I already told you, I’m here to help a friend.”

Mary Margaret blinked, seemingly touched by the statement. “I – you consider me a friend?”

“Of course,” he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. They had known each other for many years, after all. Ever since he had first arrived in Storybrooke, if his memory served him correctly. “You are Wendy’s teacher, after all.”

“She’s not your daughter.”

“She’s as good as,” he murmured.

Mary Margaret smiled at him for the first time since he had approached her. “I’m glad she has you.”

“Me too.”

She held out a clipboard and pen. “Sign your name here, please.”

Managing to balance the clipboard on his prosthetic hand, he signed the bare volunteer sheet.

“Killian Jones, at your service,” he made a sweeping bow.

Mary Margaret shot him an exasperated look, but she was smiling.

“Buy your Miners Day candles here!” Mary Margaret called cheerfully, holding out a candle. “Handmade by Storybrooke’s very own nuns! Light your way to a good cause … by buying a candle …” she trailed off, sighing. “This isn’t working.”

“Aye, it’s not.”

“You know about selling things,” she chewed her lip, looking up at Killian. “How did you do it?”

“People generally want fish.”

“Okay, I get the point.”

“You’re right,” said Leroy. “We should pack it up.”

“Now you’re quitting?”

“If the customers won’t come to us, we gotta go to them. Door to door.”

“Are you daft? If they have no interest in us here, why would they in their homes?”

“Exactly. They’ll pay us just to leave.”

Killian and Mary Margaret stood, considering the suggestion as Leroy made a start on packing up.

“You’re a genius, Leroy!”

They packed up the candles, and rushed to make a start of their door to door campaign.

“Oh, Emma, help me out!” said Mary Margaret, as the three of them made a quick stop in front of Emma and Sidney. “What’s more sympathetic? Um, scarf … or no scarf?” she undid her scarf, showing both options.

Emma stared at the trio. “S-scarf.”

“Did something happen?” asked Killian, glancing between the reporter and the Sheriff.

“Come on,” Leroy urged. “We’re on a tight schedule.”

“We’ll go ahead,” said Mary Margaret. “We don’t need the three of us. Thank you,” she added to Emma. “Gotta go!”

“Kathryn didn’t show up for registration at the law school this morning,” said Emma, glancing worriedly at Killian.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” asked Sidney. “You’re looking for a suspect. Someone with a motive. Pixie cut over there’s got one a mile high.”

“No,” said Emma and Killian at the same time.

“She had nothing to do with this.”

“But she’s the one—”

“Trust me,” said Emma, anger creeping into her voice. “I know her. Just give us those phone records.”

“I think it could be worth our while to go through the Sheriff’s Department too.”

Emma grimaced. “I’m starting to think you might be right.”

“I take it it didn’t go well,” said Killian, as Mary Margaret slid onto the stool next to him and ordered a whiskey from Ruby.

“Leroy told Sister Astrid that he’d sold all the candles. He says he’s gonna get the money, so I’m holding out hope for that.”

“Talk of the devil.”

“I’ll have what she’s having,” said Leroy, sitting on the other side of Mary Margaret.

“Well? Did you get it?”

He took off his hat, shooting her a look. “What d’you think?”

Killian smiled wryly. “Hard luck, mate.”

“I think you’re right. I was dreaming when I thought that the three of us could accomplish anything.”

“Oi; I take offense of that.”

Mary Margaret gave a reluctant huff of laughter.

“Yup,” said Leroy, into his drink. “Just dreaming.”

Killian’s phone rang.

“Emma?”

”Killian, I think you were right,” she said, without as much as a hello. “Sidney gave me the phone records, and there’s a call between Kathryn and David the night of the crash. But David said he hasn’t spoken to her since that afternoon, and I know he’s telling the truth. Or … he believes he is, anyway.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to have to ask David a few questions. You can be sure Regina’s gonna be breathing down my neck. But I’m gonna ask for phone records, too. Official phone records.”

“Okay,” he said. “If you need my help …”

“Nah, I got this. Go sell some candles.”

“Where have you two been?” Killian called over the crowd. “D’you know how many candles you can sell with one hand?”

Mary Margaret was smiling – a good sign. “Oh, shut up.”

“Who do you think caused this?” asked Leroy with a half-smile, gesturing to the darkness that surrounded them.

Killian could not fault their plan to cause a power cut. Their little stall was swamped with people, looking for candles so that they could see in the blackness. Soon enough, there were no more candles to sell.

“Guys …” said Mary Margaret, a tremulous smile on her face as she looked from the empty box in front of her to them. “We sold out.”

“We did it!”

They laughed, Mary Margaret embracing the two of them – Leroy with such enthusiasm that he lifted her from her feet.

Silence fell over the trio, as they stood, watching the crowds.

“Well, go on,” Mary Margaret said, noticing Leroy watching Astrid as she talked with some other nuns, all of them holding candles. “Give her the news. Have your moment.”

Killian clapped him on the back in encouragement as he picked up the cash box and left the stand.

“What now?” he asked, turning to Mary Margaret.

“Now … we let everyone know that we succeeded,” the schoolteacher decided, tearing a piece of cardboard from one of the boxes and writing ‘Sold Out!’ in large letters.

Killian passed her a black marker so that she could outline her work.

“Thank you,” she smiled at him. “For helping me today. Even if Emma did put you up to it.”

“Hey!” he protested. “I already said—”

She shot him a look, propping the sign up. “It’s okay. And I know why she did it. You found something, didn’t you?”

“It’s best not to divulge any information this early in the investigation.”

Mary Margaret nodded. “I understand. Look, I’m gonna head home. Do you mind clearing up?”

“Of course not.”

“Thank you, Killian.”

She blew out the candle, and, carrying it with her, made her way over to her car. She did not, however, get into the vehicle, but rather turned and made her way back through the crowds.

Killian watched, concerned, as she was stopped by Granny, who relit her candle for her. Mary Margaret continued to walk, until she returned to the stand. She was crying.

He offered his good arm to her, and she buried her head in his chest.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it? I should’ve known better than to … go after a married man.”

Killian sighed, glancing at the man in question, who had just turned away, guilt evidently getting the better of him. “You didn’t ‘go after’ him. If anything, he did the chasing.”

He swallowed, as David was approached by Emma, and escorted into the squad car.

“What’s wrong?” asked Mary Margaret, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. She turned around, watching as the car drove away, David watching from the back seat.

“No,” she said. “He didn’t do anything.”

“I know, love. I know. Come on; I’ll take you home.”

[thetimeladyswan]

What Fanfic Writers Are Like

Readers: We'd really like an update.

Writers: Yeah me too.

[thetimeladyswan]

but like who started the idea that fanfiction writers are somehow bothered by enthusiasm for their work???? cause i see posts all the time like “do writers really want to talk with us about their fics? Do writers really want long comments? I dont want to bother them” and i just think its absolutely ridiculous????

ofc i want to talk to you about it, and would love to hear you go on about it. i took time out of my real life to write this stuff down so we could all share these characters!!! the idea that you’re bothering a fanfiction writer, a fellow nerd, is absolutely crazy

[thetimeladyswan]

Untitled 25/?

Title: Bury the Future Behind (keeping the post title until I go and change them all)

Summary:  Jenny crash-lands in Gwen and Rhys’s back garden. She joins the newly re-established Torchwood, as she continues her efforts to find her father

 Rating: T

Read it here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8245651/25/Bury-the-Future-Behind

                     http://archiveofourown.org/works/1955286/chapters/13824925

Chapter Twenty-Five

“I’m nervous,” Sky declared, as though her nervous pacing hadn’t been enough to give that away. “Why am I nervous?”

 “You don’t think we’re going to show you up, do you?” Jenny joked, glancing down at Anwen, who was sitting in her lap and playing with a plush toy. “She’s ashamed of us, Anwen!”

 Sky waved a hand (though her sweater sleeves were so long that it was more of a flapping of fabric), fondly annoyed. “You know that I’m not.”

 “There’s no need to be nervous. You’ve known Emma for months. I’m sure she’s a good friend.”

 “I think it’s just because she doesn’t know me outside of school. To her, I’m just the girl who’s good at science.”

 “Is Emma good at science?”

 Sky nodded excitedly. “Especially Physics.”

 "Well, if all else fails, you can talk about Physics,” Jenny smiled. “Isn’t that right, Anwen?”

 The toddler, who was inclined to agree with most anything, nodded.

 “You’re sure you’ll be all right?” asked Gwen as she breezed past, stopping only to kiss Anwen's forehead. “I mean, Emma could be …”

 "We’ll be fine. But will you be?” Jenny frowned. “Are you sure you don’t want someone to go with you?”

 Gwen laughed. “Have you been reading articles on the internet again? I could do a scan myself in the hub, if anything this a courtesy to my doctors.”

 “Bring us back a picture?” Sky requested, a hopeful smile breaking through her worried demeanour. Having lost the chance to be a baby herself, she was fascinated by the chance to see Gwen’s child develop, be born, and grow up.

 "Count on it," she beamed. “I’ll see you later. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

 “That gives us quite a lot of scope,” said Jenny, raising an eyebrow until Sky laughed. “What are you planning on doing?”

 The Flesh Kind gave a delicate shrug. “Talk, watch TV. Maybe we could go for a walk, it’s a nice day.”

 That much was true. In February, it was technically spring, but pleasant days were few and far between. When the sun fought through, however, it was beautiful, and Jenny revelled in it.

 “So, do you want us to get lost?”

 “Of course not,” she smiled, turning to Anwen. “She’s trying to give me a bad name. Isn’t she awful?”

 Typically, Anwen agreed.

 Emma was a slim girl, slightly taller than Sky, with dark hair and shining green eyes. She easily accepted Jenny as a family friend, and greeted Anwen excitedly.

 They watched How I Met Your Mother together, discussing the characters and plotlines. Jenny, who in turn had been persuaded by Anwen, persuaded the two girls to make chocolate chip cookies. Once they’d them, they needed something to go with them.

 “Shall we go to Cadwaladers?” Sky suggested.

 “What?” Emma frowned, looking between the two of them, and Anwen, who was clapping her hands. She loved the toffee pudding ice cream Gwen sometimes bought her from there.

 “It’s a shop on Mermaid Quay,” Jenny explained, cleaning off the table where they’d made the cookies. “They do the best coffee and ice cream in Wales, apparently. I can’t attest to that; I’ve never been anywhere else in Wales.”

 “Let’s go, then,” Emma beamed.

 Anwen immediately set off ahead of them, tipping her head up toward the sunlight, though she knew not to go too far, and sporadically glanced over her shoulder to make sure the other three were close behind.

 “You don’t usually come into the city very often, then?” Jenny asked Emma. “Apart from school?”

 “No, not really. I live in Leckwith. It’s not too far away, but still, it’s easier to stay at home most of the time.”

 “Huh. I guess we’re lucky we’re so close. Well, Gwen and Jenny need to be, for their jobs.”

 “You work in the city centre?” Emma asked, smiling at Jenny.

 “Yup. I’ll show you, if you want. Anwen, c’mere, we’re gonna cross the road.”

 Jenny pointed vaguely towards the tourist centre entrance of the hub as they passed. “That’s it, over there. The Tourist Office. Not many people drop by nowadays, what with the internet and everything. But we do okay. Or maybe the boss just takes pity on us.”

 Sky snorted. “Jack wouldn’t do that.”

 She shrugged. “You never know, he’s a big softie underneath it all.”

 “Sounds like a nice place to work.”

 “It is.”

 Sky went into the shop to buy the ice creams and coffee, while Jenny, Anwen and Emma waited outside, admiring the sea.

 There was something about the open waves that comforted Jenny, even though she had never taken to them. It reminded her of space, of that feeling of freedom she’d had while she travelled. The whole universe.

 Someday, she decided, she’d take a boat ride.

 “What did you get me?” she asked Sky immediately, infected by Anwen’s excitement when it came to ice cream.

 “Chocolate fudge,” she smiled in return, passing over the tub. She’d gotten coconut for herself, and raspberry ripple for Emma. Anwen had the toffee pudding, which she was delighted with. There was also a tub to put in the freezer for Gwen when she returned.

 “And coffees,” Sky tipped the tray over slightly, not enough to spill any of them. “C’mon, let’s get back and eat our cookies!”

 When Gwen came back, they were seated around the kitchen table, eating ice cream with crushed cookies and drinking coffee. Anwen had an ice cream moustache, and she beamed at her mother.

 “Ice cream!” she announced.

 “I can see that,” she laughed, accepting the offered cookie. “So this is what you girls have been up to?”

 “There’s a tub of rocky road for you in the freezer,” Sky smiled. Gwen kissed the top of her head.

 “Bless you!”

 “How’d it go?” asked Jenny, leaning back in her chair to catch Gwen’s eye.

 “Very well,” she assured. “Baby’s healthy, normal. And another scan in a few weeks.”

 “Did you get a picture?”

 Gwen merely smiled, moving over to the fridge. When she stepped away, the sonogram had been pinned in place with a magnet.

 Jenny and Sky scrambled to their feet immediately, abandoning their ice creams. The shape could be distinguished as a foetus; they could see the head, and one fist.

 “It looks like a kidney bean,” mused Jenny, interested, while Sky waved a slightly awkward Emma over.

 “Look at my baby sibling,” she beamed.

 Gwen, who had been examining the cookies, looked around, the touched surprise evident on her face. Jenny shrugged. It made sense.

 Her phone rang, and she moved into the sitting room to answer it, smiling when she saw who it was.

 “Hey, Martha. What’s up?”

 “It’s bad news, I’m afraid,” said Martha, sounding tired and defeated. “I couldn’t get a hold of Jack, is he all right?”

 “As far as I know,” Jenny frowned, glancing back into the kitchen. If something was wrong, he would have contacted Gwen, surely. “I haven’t seen him today.”

 “I’m in Brighton,” she continued. “UNIT sent us down here to deal with a Sontaran platoon.”

 Jenny balked. “An entire platoon?”

 “Yes,” Martha sounded grim. “Whatever … this is, it’s not good. I think we’re going to need your help on this one.”

 “Whatever you need,” she promised, adding grimly, “provided there’s no crisis down here.”

 “Provided that.”

 “I’ll talk to you later, take care.”

 “Who was that?” Gwen smiled, as Jenny re-entered the kitchen.

 “Martha,” she smiled in return, and left it at that. Not only because Emma would have no idea what Sontarans were, but also because Gwen, Sky and Anwen looked so happy.

[thetimeladyswan]

Yo if you think I’m not checking your tags when you’re rebloggin my posts, you got another thing comin, I’m checking your shit gotta see what kinda reactions I’m getting checking those demographics I’ve got 3 analysts looking st the data

[thetimeladyswan]

stuff that feels rewarding as a fanfic author:

when your work inspires fanart/comics

when people point out a scene/particular line(s) that tugged at their heartstrings

when people ask for your meta of your work that they enjoyed so much

when someone comments on a fic you wrote 982783113502 years ago

getting recc’d

just the small happiness in knowing you made someone out there smile on their way to work/home or at school, in knowing you warmed someone’s heart somehow

[thetimeladyswan]

anonymously tell me what my specialty as a fanfiction writer is

[thetimeladyswan]

Reblog if you are a fanfiction author and would like your readers to put one of your fic titles in your ask + questions about it

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

2: What scene did you first put down?

3: What's your favorite line of narration?

4: What's your favorite line of dialogue?

5: What part was hardest to write?

6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

7: Where did the title come from?

8: Did any real people or events inspire any part of it?

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

10: Why did you choose this pairing for this particular story?

11: What do you like best about this fic?

12: What do you like least about this fic?

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn't listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

15: What did you learn from writing this fic?

I always wind up reblogging these at midnight on a sunday when there's maybe like, two people I know online but yeah, why not? I just ate an orange and I'm about to force myself to drink a glass of water so humor me and my boredom and my silliness.

[thetimeladyswan]

Reblog if you write fanfic and would be totally down with your followers coming into you askbox and talking to you about your fic

[thetimeladyswan]

Ships in the Night 11/?

Title: Ships in the Night

Summary: Killian Jones and Wendy Darling met in Neverland, and formed a close alliance and friendship. Little did they know that that would lead to spending twenty-eight years living as father and daughter in a town called Storybrooke, Maine.

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Please help me, I’m destitute :P

Read it here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10269456/11/Ships-in-the-Night

                      http://archiveofourown.org/works/2603012/chapters/5798489

Chapter Eleven

Killian frowned when Wendy rushed down the stairs, tying her hair as she went.

“I overslept,” she announced. “I’m so sorry!”

“We’ve plenty of time,” he assured his adoptive daughter.

Wendy frowned, though she slowed somewhat, reaching for a bowl and the box of cereal. “But … you have to get to work. And I’ll make you late!”

“No you won’t, Emma’s opening the station this morning. In fact, she specifically requested that I take you to school. I get the feeling she wants us to run into Henry.”

She smiled, relaxing. She looked thoughtful as she poured her cereal and joined him at the table, before finally announcing, “I have an idea!”

Killian was in the middle of a gulp of coffee when she made her declaration, but he nodded to her to continue.

“We should invite Henry over for dinner. He’s been pretty lonely lately, I’m sure he’d like to spend some time with a friend.”

“And?”

“And … you could just so happen to invite Emma over the same night?”

He smiled. “When did you turn into such an evil genius?”

She preened. “Probably when we started Operation Cobra. It’s not easy figuring out who everyone is, you know.”

“And yet you won’t tell me who I am.”

“You’re not in the book,” she replied nonchalantly. “Neither am I.”

“I wonder why that is,” he pondered.

“Maybe we were too boring to write about,” she joked.

"Hmm, well our boring lives will be wracked by you being late for school if we don’t leave soon.”

Wendy laughed. “All right, all right, I’ll get my bag.”

They walked the short distance to Storybrooke Elementary School, chatting about their dinner plans, assuming they could successfully invite both Henry and Emma (Wendy cast her vote firmly on shepherd’s pie). Luckily enough, they found Henry being walked to the gate by Regina. Wendy practically bounded up to them.

“Madam Mayor!” she said, politely, since she couldn’t make the woman mad if she wanted Henry to be allowed visit for dinner. “I was wondering if maybe Henry could come over after school?” she glanced back at her adoptive father. “Papa already said it was fine.”

“It’d be a pleasure to have the lad,” Killian smiled.

Henry, for one who had been unaware of the plan, seemed delighted. Wendy had harboured a slight worry that he wouldn’t want to, but she was glad to see it proven wrong. He looked hopefully up at his mother.

“I suppose that’s all right,” she said, though her lips were pursed and her smile unconvincing. “I’ll come and pick him up at eight thirty.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Henry hugged her, which she returned, seeming taken aback by his display of affection. Wendy supposed that preventing him from seeing Emma hadn’t placed her in the ‘mother of the year’ category in his eyes.

“I’ll see you later,” said Wendy, hugging her own guardian, and whispering, “Talk to Emma,” into his ear, lest he had forgotten (unlikely, but she wasn’t prepared to take any chances.) He kissed the top of her head, and left for the Sheriff’s Station.

“Henry’s fine,” was his greeting to Emma, as he hung his jacket up on the coat stand (next to Graham’s, which was somehow impacting him less and less as time went on).

She looked extremely grateful as she caught his eye, leaving whatever file or report on her desk in favour of the conversation he offered. “Were you talking to him?”

“Wendy was. He seemed happy enough, I think it was about Operation Cobra or something like that.”

Emma pursed her lips. “Killian, I’m going to let you in on a little secret. I’m pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to me. You don’t need to spare my feelings, I’d rather the truth.”

He grimaced. “Apologies, Swan. I had intended for it to be a surprise for you both. Wendy had the genius to suggest we invite Henry to dinner, and then you.”

Her defensiveness when requesting that he tell the truth melted away. “You don’t have to do that for us.”

He chuckled. “Wendy’s been giving out about how miserable he is. If she can stop complaining, I’d be a lot happier.”

Emma frowned. “Giving out?”

He scratched behind his ear, a little sheepish. His accent was an odd mixture of phrases he’d picked up in Ireland, England, and the US. “An Irish phrase. Anyway, the point is, if I can do something that will make Wendy, Henry, and my boss happy, then I’m damn well going to do it.”

“Technically, Regina is your boss.”

He tipped his head to the side. “While that may be true, I much prefer you to Regina.”

She laughed. “I’m flattered.”

“So does that mean you’ll join us?”

“Okay, what time?”

“Henry is coming back with Wendy after school, so if you wanted the most time with him, I would say then. But of course if you wanted to go home first of all, spend some time with Mary Margaret.”

Emma chuckled, casting him a glance. “I think she might be busy tonight. David is leaving his wife.”

Killian raised an eyebrow. “Really, this time?”

Her expression turned suddenly dark. “He’d better be, or Mary Margaret will be devastated, and I won’t be held accountable for what I’ll do to him.”

“Should I be worried? I’m rather fond of Dave.”

Emma shook her head. He supposed it could be seen as a good thing that she had become so attached to Mary Margaret.

“Any more developments I’ve missed?”

“Mm-hmm,” she nodded. “I ran into the stranger again. His name is August Booth, apparently. It sounds fake if you ask me. But I’m going for a drink with him, so I might find out more about him.”

Killian frowned. “You don’t trust him, but yet you’re going on a date?”

She sighed, looking at the files on her desk as if she would never return to them. “It was a deal, to get him to tell me about his stupid typewriter. But hey, if I can get him drunk maybe he’ll spill.” She wiggled her fingers. “Detective work.”

“I think there are a few promotions to go between Sheriff and Detective.”

“Less than from Deputy to Detective,” she quipped, and they finally abandoned their conversation in favour of actually working.

In the end, Killian and Emma arrived at the house before Wendy and Henry (an easy feat, as Emma drove and the children were walking). They had spent several minutes, while locking up the station, debating on whether they could risk travelling together lest Regina find out and know that Emma was spending time with Henry. As it was, it was unclear what they would do when the allotted time of half eight came around. They had driven the squad car, so it was plausible for it to be found outside of Killian’s house and because Emma had walked to work that day.

He gave Emma a quick tour of the house (consisting of their kitchen, living room, bathroom and three bedrooms, the third being used mainly as a storage unit) and gave her leave to make herself at home. She positioned herself on the sofa and was more than happy to channel surf until Henry and Wendy arrived. Killian made a start on dinner (Shepherd’s pie, not-so-subtly suggested by Wendy that morning), making sure to leave the door leading to the living room opened in case Emma wanted to make conversation, and just to ensure that she didn’t feel isolated in a new place.

He toed it closed when he heard movement outside the house, however, pressing a finger to his lips and dropping a wink to Emma. She evidently understood his meaning, muting the television.

“Hey, papa,” Wendy beamed as she entered, Henry trailing behind her a little uneasily.

“Thanks for inviting me over,” he said.

“The pleasure’s all mine, lad. Why don’t you go and watch some TV before dinner? Unless you have homework you need to do.”

He winked again, this time to Wendy over Henry’s head, which he was currently shaking to indicate that he had no homework. She turned to her fellow preteen. “I’m just going to go upstairs to leave my schoolbag in my room. You go on ahead in.”

Once Wendy had dashed up the stairs and Killian had turned back to dinner, now assembling the pie in a baking dish, Emma emerged from the living room, her sheepish look disappearing when Henry barrelled into her, wrapping his arms tightly around her middle. It was replaced by a twinge of shock, and finally settled into fondness as she carded her fingers through his hair. Henry turned to Killian in askance, but he merely shrugged a shoulder.

“It was Wendy’s idea.”

She was no less surprised than Emma when she emerged at the foot of the stairs to be hugged fiercely by Henry.

“Thank you,” he said simply. Wendy smiled understandingly, nodding her head once.

She then expressed intense interest in what Killian was doing, handing him ingredients and trying to sneak cheese into the dish. She was unperturbed when he swatted her hand away, however, merely popping the slices into her mouth instead. Her motive was clear – give Emma and Henry space to talk.

Over dinner Henry and Wendy’s conversation inevitably turned to Operation Cobra, leading to Wendy excusing herself from the table momentarily to retrieve the storybook. When she returned empty-handed, disappointment danced across Henry’s face, but he quickly hid it.

“I’m sure we’ll find it, kid,” said Emma brightly, nudging her son’s shoulder with her own. He nodded, smiling.

Wendy seemed less convinced, worrying her top lip between her teeth and picking at her food.

“It was there this morning,” she insisted, half to herself. Her appetite soon returned as she listened to Emma describe Boston.

“I’ve never left Storybrooke,” she said wistfully. Henry opened his mouth, likely to remind them that the curse supposedly kept them trapped, but shut it again. “I’d like to go to Ireland, someday. Killian said he’d show me where he’s from.”

Emma looked thoughtful, laying her fork down in favour of leaning her chin against her hands as she listened to Henry insist that Killian had not been born in Ireland but rather a fairytale land. She was an orphan, he knew – Granny’s was quite the gossip mill, and Sidney Glass’s articles were no better – and had never known where she came from. Excepting the fantastical notion of the curse and the other land that Henry preached, she would likely never learn.

“Can we watch a movie, Papa?” asked Wendy, once they had finished eating. ��If you want to?” she directed this to Henry, who nodded his agreement.

“As long as it’s a short one,” Killian replied. There wasn’t enough time for three-hour epics. “Henry has to go home at half eight.”

Wendy nodded eagerly, thanking him with a smile before leading Henry into the living room. A few minutes into the title, Killian realised that it was a Disney film, and fought the urge to laugh.

Instead, he offered Emma a drink.

“Thanks for this,” she told him, voice sincere, as he handed her a glass.

“Believe me, love. It’s a win-win situation.”

“I just mean that Regina would be pretty pissed if she found out, and there’s not many people who’d take that risk.”

Killian merely smiled, clinking their glasses together when she offered. “It’s my pleasure. Both being in your presence and doing whatever Regina doesn’t want.”

Emma left at eight, after joining the movie-watching party to spend more time with Henry. She walked home, leaving the squad car to Killian. Regina arrived half an hour later, true to her word, refusing the offer to come inside. Henry thanked Killian for his hospitality, arranged to meet Wendy at the school the following morning, and left with his adoptive mother.

“I think that went well,” Wendy beamed.

Mary Margaret was in a good mood the following morning, though she refused to divulge anything to Emma. In fact, she was much more interested in hearing about Emma’s ‘date’.

She halted her coffee drinking in order to roll her eyes and hiss, “For the last time, it was not a date. Wendy and Henry were there!”

“Mhmm, but didn’t you say that you had drinks together while they were in the other room. That qualifies as alone, and drinks qualify as a date.”

Apparently satisfied, she leaned back from the table.

“You should probably be more interested in the meeting I have today that has actually been labelled as a date,” said Emma, eventually.

“August?” asked Mary Margaret. Emma nodded. “Ah, but that’s different, you’re investigating him.”

Emma threw her hands up in surrender. “I’ve got to go to work. Good luck with David.”

Mary Margaret tipped her mug in a salute.

When she left the station for her lunch break, Killian wished her luck on her date, and she laughed.

August wasn’t waiting for her at the diner when she arrived, which annoyed her somewhat. She had work to do; he didn’t need to be anywhere else. She ventured back outside when she heard the engine of his motorcycle “You going to come in?” she called. “I thought you wanted that drink.”

“I do, but I didn’t say here. Hop on.”

Emma balked. “You want me to get on the back of that bike?”

He merely looked amused. “That’s what ‘hop on’ means.”

“How about if we go somewhere, I drive?”

“How about you stop having to control everything and take a leap of faith?” She sighed, as he continued. “You owe me a drink. Hop on. I know a good watering hole.”

“If you don’t, I will,” Granny commented. Emma glanced back to her, and eventually accepted the helmet August held out to her, climbing onto the back of the bike.

She had to laugh when they reached their destination, taking off her helmet and walking towards the well. “A watering hole? Literally?”

“Well, say what you want about me, I always tell the truth.”

“I just thought a drink was, like, wine or whiskey.”

August smiled. “What, do you want me to get you drunk?”

“No.”

“Next time.”

“You are optimistic,” she mused, remembering that he had told her he was ‘optimistic’ about their date.

He brought two metallic mugs from his bike, approaching her. “They say there’s something special about this well. There’s even a legend.”

Emma raised her eyebrows, and he set the cups on the stone edge of the well. He reeled up the bucket. “They say that the water from the well is fed by an underground lake, and that lake has magical properties.”

“Magic? You sound like Henry.”

“Smart kid,” was all he said in return to that. “So, this legend. It says that if you drink the water from the well, something lost will be returned to you.”

“You know an awful lot about this town for being a stranger,” she pointed out, her suspicions returning with gusto. He filled the mugs with water.

“And you know very little for being the Sheriff,” August countered.

“How do you know all this? You’ve been here before?”

“I know all of this for one very simple reason.” He paused, smiling enigmatically. “I read the plaque.”

She breathed a laugh, walking around to the side of the well, where, sure enough there was a plaque, telling the same story as August had just. “You actually believe that?”

“I’m a writer. I have to have an open mind.” He flicked a gloved finger away from his head.

“Yeah, but magic?”

“Water is a very powerful thing. Cultures as old as time have worshiped it. It flows throughout all lands, connecting the entire world. If anything had mystical properties – if anything had magic – well, I’d say it’d be water.”

“That’s asking a lot to believe on faith,” Emma pointed out, re-joining him on the other side of the well.

“If you need evidence for everything, Emma, you’re going to find yourself stuck in one place for a long time.”

“Maybe. Or, maybe I’ll just find the truth before anyone else.”

“Well, Miss Sceptic,” he held out a cup, which she accepted. “There’s one thing I can tell you for sure that requires no leap of faith, and I know you’ll agree with me.” He took a sip.

“What’s that?”

“It’s good water.”

He bumped his mug against her own, and she found herself smiling as she took a drink.

August returned her to the Sherriff’s Station, where she found Killian at his desk, filling out paperwork.

To her surprise, he didn’t tease or ask about her date, and when he turned to her, his face was grim. “Have you heard?”

A million possibilities raced through Emma’s mind, each more terrible than the last, before she rationalised that she would have been contacted were it something serious. “Heard what?”

“Dave left his wife, all right. But she came to the school; had it out with Mary Margaret. The whole town’s talking about it.”

“Is Mary Margaret okay?” asked Emma, reaching for her phone before realising that she was likely still teaching.

“I don’t know,” Killian sighed. “That’s not mentioned in the gossip, unfortunately. If you want to leave early, I can manage.”

Emma shook her head. “No, it’s okay. I’ll stay here, that way Mary Margaret can find me if she wants. Did you get any calls while I was gone?”

They returned to work, pushing their worries to the back of their minds.

Emma walked home for the second day in a row, enjoying the small town atmosphere that she had come to assimilate in. She hoped that Mary Margaret was at the loft, and that she was all right.

She brushed off the leaves that had accumulated on her beetle, and noticed a slightly worse-for-wear backpack lying beneath her car, its back straps broken.

She picked it up, wondering if it belonged to one of Mary Margaret’s students. Its only contents were a book. She scrambled to free it once she realised what it was; the leather bound volume with Once Upon a Time emblazoned across the front. It was undamaged, still bone dry despite the condition of the backpack. Emma bit her lip, looking towards the loft before climbing into the beetle, setting the book on the passenger seat.

Killian greeted her with raised eyebrows and a, “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon, Swan. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Can I talk to Wendy?”

The girl, evidently having heard her name, appeared at her adoptive father’s side. “Hi, Emma. What’s up?”

“I found the book,” she divulged with a smile. Wendy practically leapt up and down with joy, taking the tome from Emma with reverent care. “I thought it would be cool if you surprised Henry with it tomorrow, since I can’t exactly show up at Regina’s house right now.”

Wendy agreed to the idea, hugging the storybook to her chest as she bade Emma a swift goodbye and raced up the stairs.

“Would you like to come in?” Killian offered. Emma shook her head.

“I haven’t been home yet; I want to see how Mary Margaret’s doing.”

He nodded his understanding. “Give her my best.”

“Will do.”

She made the walk home once more, this time entering the loft to find Mary Margaret curled on her bed. She hesitated, shoulders slumping as she realised how much this had affected her friend.

“You feel like talking about it yet?” she asked softly.

“Nope,” came the teary response.

“You want to be alone?”

“Nope.”

Dropping her keys on the kitchen table, Emma approached her friend, ready to offer whatever comfort she could.

[thetimeladyswan]

Untitled 24/?

Title: N/A. But that may change. What do you guys think of ‘Bury the Future Behind’?

Summary: Jenny crash-lands in Gwen and Rhys’s back garden. She joins the newly re-established Torchwood, as she continues her efforts to find her father

Rating: T

Read it here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8245651/24/Untitled

                      http://archiveofourown.org/works/1955286/chapters/13824925

                                               Chapter Twenty-Four

Jenny – happening to glance over at the CCTV footage of the Roald Dahl Plass – saw Sky coming before she arrived at the hub. The young girl was beaming, clutching a sheet of paper close to her chest. Her hair, which had been in a ponytail that morning, flew around her face in the biting late-Winter breeze.

Curious, she cast a glance back to the lift, which had begun to clank in preparation for its descent. When Sky came into view, she ran right to her, exclaiming happily that she had received the results of her Christmas tests, and thrusting the sheet to her.

“I got an A* in Maths!” she declared, pointing to the result.

Jenny frowned at the array of letters on the piece of paper in her hands. “What exactly is an A*?”

“The highest grade you can get,” Gwen informed, helpfully, appearing in order to pull Sky into a hug and press a kiss atop her head. “Well done!”

Sky preened, smiling broadly. “Thanks, Gwen.”

Jenny, who had found the percentages printed in the third column much more helpful, declared that they should celebrate.

“Can we go to Cadwaladers?”

“Sure thing, kiddo. I’ll get my coat.”

They ordered ice creams – Sky caramel and Jenny mint choc chip – and sat on the pier in order to eat them. Passers-by shot them funny looks, a bracing late-January day as it was, but they were happily ignored.

“Do you like school?” Jenny asked curiously, swinging her legs off the edge the pier. Something about the sea calmed her. She loved to be near it.

Sky nodded vehemently. “It’s part of life here, you know? It’s nice to have that. And I made some friends.”

Jenny beamed. “That’s great! You should invite them round to the house.”

She cocked her head to the side. “And tell them what?”

“That Gwen’s your guardian, I suppose,” Jenny mused, staring at her ice cream cone as if it held the answers. “And that I’m a family friend, or something.”

“Okay! But,” she dragged out the word, attempting to look coy with shining eyes and a smudge of ice cream on her nose. “I’d like something else too.”

Jenny smiled, amused. “Would you, now? What might that be?”

“For you to start training me.”

She reached out, wiping away the ice cream from Sky’s nose. “Sure, kid. We’ll start as soon as possible.”

As soon as possible, though Sky did not know it, was dependant on outside influences other than Jenny perfecting her teaching technique. It didn’t take long, however, until Jack, leaning over the railing of the landing above her head, called, “Jenny? Could you come into the office for a minute?”

“Stop trying to sound like we’re a proper organisation!” she called back, though she left her desk and did just that, leaning against Jack’s desk. “What’s up?”

"Special delivery from UNIT,” he replied, with a smile, handing her a box with ‘PRECIOUS CARGO’ stamped on it in black, and ‘PRIVATE’ in red. She opened it, freeing the metal tube from its bubble wrap casing. It was about half the length of her arm, and just as thick, tapered at both ends and with rubber grips in the middle.

“You got it!” she exclaimed delightedly, examining the baton. It was alien technology – useless to UNIT as they didn’t have a power source for it – capable of killing, at its extreme, and most definitely of incapacitating an enemy. If all else failed, Sky could whack someone or thing over the head with it. It was much stronger than the pendant Sky wore, and could be used in tandem with it. That, along with hand-to-hand combat, would be enough to ensure the Flesh Kind could handle herself in a fight.

“Not me,” said Jack, gesturing to his computer screen. Jenny leaned backward to see Martha on the screen. She smiled and waved, holding a mug in the other hand.

“Thanks Martha,” she beamed. “Sky will love this.”

“It wasn’t much use to us, rotting away in the archives.”

Jack seemed surprised. “Kate takes her archives very seriously, I thought. She even convinced me to give up this –” he waved his wrist, to which the vortex manipulator was attached, towards the camera –”when I find a death that sticks.”

Martha laughed. “Those are some pretty extreme terms.”

“What does it take for a death to stick?” asked Jenny.

“Three days, is the rule of thumb,” he shrugged. “Sometimes it takes longer. A bomb in my chest, that took a while. Agony, too. When my life force was drained by a demon; that took a few days.”

He spoke so nonchalantly, as if it were no big deal. Both Jenny and Martha, is the way the latter was frowning at the camera was any indication, knew that this wasn’t the case.

“Rather you than me,” was all Martha said. “All right, I’d better get back to doing something. Tell Sky that she’s welcome.”

“Will do,” Jenny smiled. “Thanks again.”

“See you around, Minnie Mouse.”

Martha signed off with a half-serious salute, the computer emitting an almost sad-sounding noise when the Skype call ended.

“Sky should be here in a few minutes,” said Jack, almost conversationally.

“All right. Send her down when she arrives.”

In preparation for such a day, Jenny had brought comfortable clothes for both her and Sky in which they could easily train. Setting the baton down in the training room (that doubled as a shooting range, what with the vast expanse of an old railway line stretched before them), she grabbed the duffel and went to change.

“Jenny?” came Sky’s voice, and then her footsteps. “Jack said he wanted to talk to you. What are you doing down here?”

“In here!” she called, when Sky’s footsteps didn’t come any closer; she must have gone to check the cells first.

A head of brown hair popped in the upper corner of doorway, captured loosely in a messy ponytail. The girl to which it belonged was still wearing her uniform, and she looked confused until she saw what Jenny was wearing. Then, her eyes lit up, and she bounded down the last few steps and launched herself at Jenny.

Expecting this, she caught Sky easily, returning her hug with equal fervour. “A promise is a promise, kiddo.”

“Are we starting right now?”

Jenny nodded, handing her the duffel bag. “I brought some clothes from home for you; go get changed.”

Sky returned several moments later, her hair in a noticeably more secure updo, and a wide smile still in place.

“All right, come here.” She led the Flesh Kind over to the table where she had laid down the baton. There were also wooden sticks with which to parry, bandages for Sky’s hands so that she could practice alone with a punch bag once she had learned the basics, and a handgun. Jenny averted her gaze from the latter. She was still reluctant to teach Sky how to use it. Perhaps just how to empty it, if she could wrest it away from an attacker.

“This,” she held out the object, “is an electroshock baton. Jack had it brought up from the UNIT archives especially for you.”

Sky opened her mouth to say something, but Jenny cut her off with a smile. “You can thank him and Martha later. Normally it would need a battery, but I don’t think that’s the case with you, is it?”

Sky shook her head, reaching out tentatively. The weapon sparked, not enough to cause any damage, but enough to verify the point. Jenny handed over the baton and turned to set up the targets.

“It has enough power to kill, if used correctly.” She bit her lip, looking back at Sky, who was still examining her new weapon. “I think we can use that as a last resort.”

“I don’t want to kill anyone.”

“I don’t want you to either.”

There was silence, in which Jenny could hear the other girl move closer.

“It doesn’t make you a bad person, the killing,” she said, quietly.

There was a hand on the small of her back. Jenny turned back to see Sky looking at her, concerned. She offered a weak smile.

“It doesn’t make me a good person. It stays with you. I can still see their faces …” she shook her head. “I hope you never have to experience it.”

She returned her focus to the task at hand, and Sky moved away from her.

“Now, you can emit the electricity in a beam, so you don’t have to be up close to do damage. Here, aim …”

Once Sky had gotten the hang of her baton, Jenny moved to hand-to-hand combat.

“Usually, you’ll be facing off against a life form bigger than you,” she explained. “I’m sure Jack’ll let you practice your skills on him when you grasp the basics.”

There was a chuckle from the doorway. “I’m sure he will.”

“Everything okay?” Jenny asked, wary that he had come to find them because of an emergency.

Jack nodded. “Gwen was just wondering if you two were thinking of heading home any time soon.”

Sky frowned, checking her wristwatch. “It’s six o’ clock? Already?”

“Time flies when you’re having fun, so they say.” He moved over to the targets, most of which had crackling holes blasted through them. “This was you?”

“Yep,” Sky beamed, looking no less pleased with herself than she ought to have been.

“Good work,” Jack smiled at them both.

Sky held her hand up for a high-five, which Jenny was only too happy to acquiesce.

“Now, we should all go home.”

[thetimeladyswan]

Untitled 23/?

Title: N/A

Summary: Jenny crash-lands in Gwen and Rhys’s back garden. She joins the newly re-established Torchwood, as she continues her efforts to find her father

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I own Charlie, but he’s only in here via text, so ...

Read it here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8245651/23/Untitled

                      http://archiveofourown.org/works/1955286/chapters/11421274

                                              Chapter Twenty-Three

It was late – late enough that Sky had been in pyjamas, her hair in two plaits, and Gwen had been falling asleep in front of the television – when Jack appeared on their doorstep.

He was … dishevelled, to say the least. He held his coat, which had been dirtied by some green substance, under one arm. Blood bloomed on his shirt, indicating that he had most likely died at least once. His face was worn, eyes tired.

"We need to talk," he said.

Gwen nodded dumbly. Jenny, who had been standing at her shoulder, stood aside to let Jack pass through. Sky and Rhys stared from their positions on the couch and armchair, respectively. Jenny shook her head to affirm she didn't know what had happened, while Gwen directed Jack to the pile of his clothes they kept for situations such as these.

"I went to Penarth," Jack told them, in a poor attempt at an explanation, once he had cleaned up somewhat, his dirty clothes in the washing machine, and sat before them.

Rhys raised his eyebrows. "You usually get into a slime fight in Penarth?"

Jack smirked, but the expression was muted by his fatigue. "Not if I can help it, no. I ran into some Slitheen."

"Ran into?" Gwen repeated. "That's why you left in a huge hurry? And spent four days there?"

"I tracked them," he amended. "Usually, they prefer to be close to the rift. I was suspicious."

"Penarth is close to the rift," Sky pointed out, with a puzzled frown.

Jack shook his head. "I mean right on top of it. Even Penarth is far."

"Right. So what are the Slitheen, exactly?"

"They come from …" Sky scrunched up her nose in concentration. "Raxacoricofallapatorius." She looked delighted that she'd managed to say it properly, and reached out for a high five, which Jenny was happy to provide. Jack smiled sadly. "They tried to use Luke to harness the power of the sun when he was younger."

"One of them was your mayor," Jack added, nodding to a horrified-looking Gwen and Rhys. "In 2006."

"How did it get away with that?" asked Gwen.

"They use people's skin as a disguise."

"Delightful," she muttered. "I think I'm just going to go and throw up, now."

"So," said Jenny, biting her lip, "you reckon it's strange that the Slitheen have moved away from the rift?"

"That's the gist of it, yeah."

She smiled wryly. "Then you might want to hear what we have to say."

It was almost like a war council, Jenny mused, but much more civil. Then again, the only other experience she'd had had been with General Cobb, who had been anything but. Her hand strayed to the point of her chest where she'd been shot, and she shut her eyes to rid herself of the memories.

They had moved now, summoned by the lure of tea in the kitchen, and were sat around the table. Sky, still in her pyjamas and hugging her knees, and Jack, in the most casual wear Jenny had ever seen him in, made for an odd pair. Sprawled out across the table was a map of Great Britain (with Scotland and Northern Ireland folded over), where they'd marked out the locations of not only the Slitheen and Weevils but also other unusual alien activity UNIT had come across.

"There has to be some connection," was a phrase that had been bounced between them countless times, though they were no closer to finding that connection.

Gwen sighed, rubbing her forehead. Rhys, sitting beside her, put a comforting arm around her, asking quiet questions about her wellbeing. Her hand dropped to the table with a thud.

"Gwen?" asked Jenny.

She shook her head. "I'm all right, just a bit tired. I think we should call it a night." When the others nodded their assent, she turned to Jack. "Are you going to stay? You can take the couch, or one of the beds, if Jenny—"

"I'm not tired," she answered immediately.

So it was that she was left there in the moonlit kitchen, sipping her tea and watching the hypnotic cycle of the washing machine.

"How long have you been there?"

Jenny didn't start at the sound of Jack's voice, but she was surprised to hear it. She blinked, glancing over at him. He must have just woken up, for he was barefoot and shirtless, dressed only in the same tracksuit bottoms Gwen had given him the night before.

"All night," she replied honestly, untangling her limbs and stretching out her legs. "I fell into a stupor around three, but I didn't need any sleep."

Jack didn't shake his head at her or huff out a laugh, he merely sat in a chair beside her.

"Did you sleep much?" Jenny asked.

"Not nearly enough," he replied, scrubbing a hand over his face. He smiled weakly. "Don't worry, it takes more than that to get me down."

"Like an alien invasion of Great Britain?" Jenny suggested wryly.

Jack wrinkled his nose. "Let's not think about that. There are aliens in London all the time. Doc'd be out of business if there weren't."

She felt a stab of sadness in her heart, but didn't give voice to it. It was getting easier to deal with. She was bound to cross paths with her father eventually. She just had to be patient. "Not weevils, though."

"No," Jack sighed. "Not weevils."

As if they had come to some silent agreement, they both rose, then. Jack to move his clothes from the washing machine to the drier, and Jenny to boil the kettle for tea.

Almost as if summoned by the noise and the promise of the beverage that came with it, Sky ambled into the kitchen, in her pyjamas. Her hair was still in the two plaits, but they were loose and messy.

"G'morning," she yawned, pulling out a chair to sit at the table. "Can I have some tea?"

Jenny nodded. "Are Gwen and Rhys up yet?"

"I heard the shower going," Sky replied. "So someone must be."

Jenny was pouring out tea for the three of them – deciding to leave Gwen and Rhys's until she was sure they were awake – when Gwen appeared, fully dressed, keys in hand.

She stopped short, clearly not having expected an audience.

"We – we're out of milk," she said, heading for the door as though she wanted to win a marathon.

Sky frowned, looking from the door that had been slammed shut to the three-quarters full milk carton on the table.

"What was that about?" she asked, curling a hand around her mug of tea.

"I don't know, kid," Jenny replied. "I don't know."

"We'll talk to her when she gets back," said Jack, his jaw set and eyes fixed on the closed front door.

They shared a modest breakfast of tea and toast, telling Rhys that Gwen had said she was going to the shops when he joined them. They didn't mention how odd she'd acted; that they could deal with upon her return.

Jack left to shower and dress when he had finished eating, and so was absent when Gwen returned. She sat at the kitchen table with them, remaining silent.

"What's going on?" Jenny asked her, deciding against folding her arms. She didn't want this to seem like an interrogation.

She drew in a breath, and promptly burst into tears.

Jenny and Sky stared at her in bewilderment, while Rhys immediately moved to comfort her. She was smiling, however, and … laughing?

"What's happened?" Sky asked, her nose wrinkled in confusion.

Gwen dabbed at her eyes with a tissue that Rhys had handed her, composing herself enough to announce, "I'm pregnant."

Rhys kissed her soundly, and they embraced. Jenny and Sky joined in, making for a slightly damp (for Rhys was now crying as well) group hug.

"What is happening?" asked Jack. They all turned to look at him, and started laughing.

"What?" he demanded, indignantly now. Sky merely pulled him into the hug, which was now even damper with the addition of his hair, still wet from the shower.

"Gwen's pregnant," Rhys finally said, causing Jack to exclaim happily, pressing a kiss to her head.

"I'm happy," said Gwen, once the hug had broken apart and she was drinking a mug of tea. "It came as a bit of a shock, but I'm happy. I don't know what Anwen will think, though."

"She'll be happy to have a little brother or sister," Sky assured, beaming.

Jenny nodded, smiling, and fished her phone from her pocket, hearing it chime five time in quick succession They were all messages from Charlie.

'We can die happy matchmakers!'

'Well I can'

'Not so sure about you'

'Actually definitely not sure about you'

'What's your deal?'

She shook her head fondly, sending back a 'Go to class'.

'Check the calendar, Jen. It's Sunday.'

Giving up on Charlie entirely, she pulled up Luke's contact. 'Congrats', she sent, and then added, ‘I told you so'.

'Shut up.'

She laughed. Despite the looming alien threat, it was a good day.

[thetimeladyswan]

Untitled 22/?

Title: N/A

Summary: Jenny crash-lands in Gwen and Rhys’s back garden. She joins the newly re-established Torchwood, as she continues her efforts to find her father

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Read it here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8245651/22/Untitled

                      http://archiveofourown.org/works/1955286/chapters/10667240

Chapter Twenty-Two

"Good morning," said Jenny with a smile, proudly showing off her single crutch as she hobbled into the kitchen. Gwen stood by the counter, making herself a cup of tea. She smiled. "You're healing."

"Yeah. How are you feeling today?"

"Better," she nodded, cradling the mug in her hands, leaning against the counter. She did have a better look – more colour in her cheeks, a better way of carrying herself. "Whatever it was, it seems to be gone now."

Jenny set to making tea and toast for herself. The kitchen wouldn't be this quiet for much longer – Sky, Rhys and Anwen would be up soon – and she needed to make the most of it.

"Jenny, will you walk me to school?" asked Sky, in lieu of a "hello" or "good morning", tying her hair into a ponytail as she walked, and stealing a piece of Jenny's toast. Her protest was quashed before it could escape by a wide, innocent smile.

"Why?" she asked instead, pulling her plate closer to her chest protectively.

"Can I not just spend some quality time with my very good friend?"

Jenny arched an eyebrow. "No."

Sky huffed, finishing off her stolen slice of toast. "I want to talk to you about something."

"Talk to me later."

"I can't," Sky whined, pulling her best 'pity me' face. "It has to be this morning. C'mon, please? I'm sure Jack won't mind. Just, wear your hair down. And smile in that way you have."

"What?" she spluttered, glad that she hadn't chosen that moment to take a drink of tea. "What are you talking about?"

Sky looked confused. "You're pretty."

"I'm aware, thank you. And? Have you been watching rom-coms again? Jack's not like that?"

"Actually—" Gwen cut in helpfully, but trailed off at Jenny's 'don't take her side!' look.

Sky switched tactics, pulling out the puppy-dog eyes in full force. "You love me, right?"

"Yes, Sky, I love you."

"Then why won't you walk me to school?"

She sighed long-sufferingly. "Fine, I'll walk you to school."

Sky beamed, and Jenny was positive that the kitchen light hadn't been as bright a second ago. "Thanks, Jenny!"

"Yeah, yeah. You owe me a slice of toast."

"It's Luke's birthday next week," Sky finally divulged, once they'd left the house and were on the way to the school. "Well, I say birthday. He was never actually born ... she trailed off. "Anyway, it's Luke's birthday next week, and I want to do something special for him. It's the first one he's had with me around, and, well."

"Without Sarah Jane?" Jenny supplied, smiling sadly when Sky nodded. "Do you have any ideas?"

"That was why I asked you."

Jenny laughed. "None whatsoever?"

Sky smiled sheepishly. "Cake?"

"Oh, yes. Cake is extremely important. What day is his birthday?"

"Wednesday."

"So you have school?"

"Yes."

"And he has lectures?"

"Probably."

"This isn't looking great, kid."

"I suppose we could just Skype him ..." Sky hung her head.

"Nah, we can't do that!" She nudged Sky's shoulder with her own, smiling when the younger girl looked up, a shy smile of her own appearing. "I'm sure I can persuade Gwen to write you a note so you can get off school early, and we'll catch the train, all right?"

Sky nodded, some of her enthusiasm returning. "We can surprise him!"

"Now you're talking, kiddo."

"Okay," Sky nodded, kissing Jenny on the cheek before rushing toward the school. She turned back momentarily to call, "I'll see you later! Thanks!"

Jenny smiled, shaking her head fondly as she continued on her way to the hub, pleased that she was barely leaning on the crutch.

"It was Sky's fault!" she called immediately, stepping off the lift.

Gwen snorted into her mug from where she leaned against a computer desk. "You didn't take that much persuading."

"She took my toast," Jenny grumbled. "Where's Jack?"

Gwen shrugged. "He left a note. Apparently there's something weird going on in Penarth, that he couldn't wait to tell us before he left."

"Sounds fishy. You're sure it's his handwriting?"

"Yes, as sure as I can be."

Jenny nodded, picking up the note from the desk on which it had been laid. She knew little of Jack's handwriting, and could only go on the tone. It read like something he would write; she relaxed slightly.

"What did Sky want to talk to you about?" asked Gwen, leaning over the computer to type something in.

"Luke's birthday," Jenny responded. "Which reminds me, can you write a note to her school for Wednesday? Say that she has an appointment or something? She wants to go and surprise him."

"I can do that," said Gwen with a smile. "Not that I condone skipping school or anything."

Jenny laughed. "I wouldn't know. I've never been to a school."

"You're not missing much," she assured.

"I'll definitely take your word for it."

Sky was waiting outside the school on Wednesday when Jenny approached. She beamed, looking to the man standing beside her – a member of staff, Jenny guessed, waiting to assure that Sky wasn't just bunking off – for confirmation before rushing toward her.

"Hey kiddo," she smiled down at the Flesh Kind. "You ready to go?"

Sky nodded vehemently, and they set off toward the train station. The younger girl was practically skipping beside her. Jenny smiled fondly.

"Does this mean that I can expect a surprise on my next birthday?"

"When is it, again?" Sky tilted her head to the side, birdlike in her curiosity. "We missed it this year, right?"

"Not necessarily," Jenny responded. "I wasn't on earth when it happened, and time is different in space and on other planets. I kept track of days as I understood them. I was one thousand, one hundred and twenty seven days old before I came to Earth, a little older than I am in Earth terms. My birthday was the twenty fourth of July in the year 6012, but that was a different calendar. It doesn't matter, as such. Not when I'll end up losing track eventually."

Sky listened to the explanation with wide eyes. All she said, in the end, was, "Luke is six today."

They lapsed into silence until they had boarded the train. Seemingly only then noticing that Jenny was carrying a plastic bag along with her handbag, asked, "Did you get cake?"

"I got cake," Jenny assured. "Red velvet."

"Good," the younger girl nodded. "Luke likes cake. And Charlie eats everything."

Jenny laughed at that.

They chatted as the train rattled out of the country, moving toward Oxford. Sky's training was a subject Jenny was reluctant on, given that she hadn't officially asked Jack yet. She had decided, however, that she would probably be the best for the job, apart from Gwen. She was close to Sky in build, and knew enough in order to pass on survival skills. Though she was amused when she imagined Jack trying to train her.

Sky was happy enough to drop the subject once she'd extracted the promise that Jenny was not changing her mind. She turned to gaze out of the window, then, not displaying any interest when Jenny's phone chimed.

It was a text from Clyde, which read En route. He, Rani and Maria had been more than willing to join in on the 'surprise Luke for his birthday' plan, though he had perhaps had taken the 'surprise' element a little too far. Rani had drawn the line at code names.

When they had almost reached the train station, Jenny retrieved her mobile again in order to call Luke. He answered, sounding a little harried and confused.

"Jenny, is something wrong? I can't really talk right now, I have a lecture …"

"Can you skip the rest of school today?" she asked, instead of answering his question. "Would you be able to get notes from your course mates?"

"Something is wrong?" Dread had crept into his voice now. "Is it Sky? She's not sick again, is she?"

"No," Jenny assured. She heard him blow out a sigh of relief. "But there is something we need to talk to you about, face to face. It's important."

"All right," said Luke eventually. "I'll ask Caroline if I can copy her notes later …" There was a slight commotion. "It's Jenny. No, nothing's wrong. I've gotta go and meet her, though …" he sighed again, this one exasperated. "Can Charlie tag along?"

Jenny stifled the laugh that threatened to escape. "I was counting on it, in fact."

"Right, where should we meet?"

"Outside the college. We'll be there in ten minutes."

There was another crackle of commotion, and Charlie's voice sounded in her ear. "See you then."

Sky raised an amused eyebrow when Jenny hung up. "You could be an actress."

"Nah, I'd be rubbish," she replied, leaning her elbows on the table that separated her from the Flesh Kind. "Luke would be great; he'd just look at the script once and have his lines memorised."

"That's not the only thing you need to act."

"You want to be my agent?"

Sky laughed. "Sure, if the pay is good."

"Oh, she's a businesswoman," said Jenny, drawing back as if in shock. "Maybe it'd be a waste to train you to fight when we could launch you on the world as a manager."

"You promised," said Sky, holding up a finger.

"I did," she replied, voice soft. "C'mon, kiddo. Let's surprise this brother of yours."

They ended up splitting at the train station, as Clyde, Rani and Maria were waiting for them. They took Sky and the cake in order to set up in Luke's dormitory. Jenny was tasked with being the distraction, a job that worked a little too well, in the end.

Charlie was not there when Jenny reached the wall that Luke was sitting on, but she was assured that he was on his way. She sat next to him.

"So, how are you?"

"Good," Luke nodded. "Things are gearing up now, you know. Only four months until exams." He waved his hands in what Jenny surmised was supposed to represent the scariness that exams presented. Sky had complained that she had only been on Earth a short time, and yet she would have to sit state examinations in two years. "How are things at Torchwood?"

"Same old. We had a run in with a Zygon the other week. It fancied itself as a harmless puppy. Sky got a hit, but she was fine."

"She told me, actually," Luke informed her. "We talked on the phone. She said that Gwen was sick, too?"

Jenny nodded. "She's feeling better now, I think. She's back in the hub at least."

She fell silent as a young man – most likely a fellow student at the university – passed them. He paused, opening his mouth as if to say something, but he remained silent, shaking his head as he continued on his way. Luke, who has been smiling at Jenny while they shared their news, was now pale and clearly upset.

"Who was that?" Jenny asked softly.

"My …" Luke swallowed, his grip tightening on the wall, turning his knuckles white. "His name is Sanjay. We used to date, in first year. Um, it was great. He's really cool, and smart, and funny. But … it didn't end well."

"I'm sorry, Luke," she reached out to take his hand. He accepted, a faint smile blooming on his face.

"No, it's okay. That's part of the whole experience of living, right? The good, the bad …"

He trailed off, paling once more as a weevil appeared in front of them.

"The ugly?" she suggested, sliding from the wall and glancing over at him to verify that he had moved into a defensive position.

"Where did it come from?" Luke demanded, looking wildly around as they worked to direct the creature away from the university.

"Where's the nearest sewer?" Jenny called. "It probably came up from there! Why didn't we hear any commotion?"

Luke shook his head, fumbling in his pocket. Jenny, understanding, landed a kick to the weevil's midriff while he made the call.

"My name is Luke Smith," he said to whoever was on the other side of the phone. "I'm a part time Torchwood operative. I know Kate Stewart, Martha Jones and Mickey Smith. You can trust me." A pause. "Good idea, you won't regret it. We've got a weevil outside Oxford University. Help would be appreciated. Thank you."

"Are they sending someone?" Jenny called over her shoulder, directing the weevil towards a manhole cover she'd picked out.

"Yeah!" he jogged over, adding, "good idea!" when he realised what she was doing, and running ahead in order to move the cover. The civilians around had, thankfully, moved away, hopefully thinking that what they had seen was an elaborate prank or a figment of their imagination. Even so, UNIT would probably add retcon to the local water supply when they arrived on the scene.

If they were even required. With the manhole uncovered, Jenny landed a blow to the weevil's head, hoping it was enough to knock it out, and it fell down. Luke slid the cover back into place.

"Right," he said, exhaling heavily. "That was fun."

Jenny grinned. "Happy birthday."

Luke shook his head. "Of course. It was because of my birthday. Who else is here?"

"Sky, Clyde, Rani and Maria," she divulged. "Speaking of …"

Luke's expression became suddenly wary. "Speaking of what?"

She steeled herself. She had never seen Luke angry, but it was doubtful a pretty experience. "Is it because of what happened with Sanjay? That you won't take a chance with Maria?"

"I don't—"

"We've been over this, remember?" she shot him down with a quelling look. "Are you scared of having your heart broken? Because you shouldn't. Like you said, it's all part of life."

Luke was silent for a long moment. Eventually, he asked, "Have you ever been in love?"

"No," Jenny replied. "Not that way. I do love you, though, and Sky, and Gwen –"

He nodded, signifying that he understood and cutting her off. "Think of how you'd feel if you couldn't see one of us anymore; couldn't be around one of us. And then multiply it. It's hard to get over. I'm not even over it now. And I've already lost Maria once. So I'm sorry that I'm not ready to launch myself into that again."

"What the hell just happened?"

Jenny glanced behind her to see Charlie. She frowned at him. "What took you so long?"

"I was hiding from the monster!" he replied, sounding a little crazed. His glasses were askew, and he reached up to fix them.

"Alien," Luke corrected, gaze fixed on the manhole cover that separated them from it. "It's called a weevil."

"I don't care what it's called," said Charlie, eyes wide. "I care that it's not coming back. It's not, right?"

"I think I knocked it out," said Jenny, too glancing to the cover. "Someone from UNIT is on the way, probably to contain it."

"Containment is good."

Jenny smiled almost fondly at Charlie. He continued to take the extra-terrestrial in his stride, even if he was fearful. Fear was good. Fear would keep him alive.

A nondescript van with the UNIT logo emblazoned on the side pulled up, and two familiar faces emerged: Martha and Mickey.

Martha grinned. "Miss us?"

"Very much," said Jenny, bending to help Luke remove the manhole cover once more. Martha removed a Taser from her belt and began the descent.

"It's unconscious!" she called up.

"That was me," Jenny added, as Mickey knelt over the edge of the hole in order to help hoist the weevil up. It was bundled into the van (very securely, Martha assured them).

"Looks like you didn't need us at all, huh?" Mickey smiled at her.

"Well, it would've woken up again. I didn't want to kill it, even if it is …"

"Evil?" Charlie suggested.

Jenny nodded. "Let's go with that. Are you guys heading off again? You could stay for cake."

Luke brightened. "You got me cake?"

"Of course," she smiled at him. "It's your birthday."

"I was never actually born," he pointed out.

Jenny merely shrugged. "Neither was I."

"No thanks," said Martha. "We've got to head back. It was nice seeing you, though. Happy birthday, Luke."

He nodded his thanks. Mickey tipped a salute before leaving.

"So …" said Jenny eventually, glancing between the two boys. "Cake?"