#ouat request

         Henry sat in the passenger’s seat of Emma’s car, studying the final illustration of the Book intently. The strangest thing about the Book, the first thing he’d realised, was that it was incomlete – a fairytale without an ending – and it didn’t make sense. It was the first clue that put him on this little mission; all fairytales have an ending, so why didn’t this one? But the answer was obvious: the story wasn’t over. There was no happy ever after… not yet.

         The door opened and his birth-mother took her seat, handing a small box over. “I got donuts,” she stated, then sat back and took one. Sugar glazed with chocolate sprinkles, Henry’s favourite. “What did you wanna talk about?”

         Henry took a doughnut in one hand and the pages of the Book in t\he other, careful not to get any sweet stickiness on the pages. “The last page of the story.”

         “What about it?”

         Henry handed the Book over for Emma to see. “I didn’t tell you before, but you weren’t the only one your parents sent here.” He said convincingly, pointing to the illustration with his cleanest finger. “Your sister went too.”

         The woman stared at him for a moment. “My sister?” And the boy nodded eagerly in return.

         Growing up, Emma had thought about having a sister; it would have made it easier, having one constant person in her life, someone to go through it all with her. But she thought she’d grown out of that, apparently not; her heart fluttered at Henry’s words, as if it were begging to believe it was true. And for a fraction of a second, hope swayed her. But she wouldn’t admit it – it as a silly childhood fantasy.

         “Her name’s (Y/N),” Henry went on, “Charming sent you in first, then her. So she’s here too – in our world.”

         Henry deflated, picking up another doughnut. “I haven’t figured that out yet…”

         Looking back to the picture, Emma admired its beauty. The soft tones of watercolour paint and delicate brushstrokes; and the two blurry faces wrapped in blankets.

         “Where do you think she is?” Asked Henry in a quiet voice, unsure of her reaction. If only someone would remember…

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

         “Excuse me,” (Y/N) said, fiddling with the sleeves of her cardigan as she approached the barrister behind the counter, “excuse me, I’m here for an interview… about the vacancy…”

        The young man nodded and smiled, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Oh yeah, Joyce mentioned that, she’s around the back, I’ll go get her.” He turned to leave, then hesitated and came back to her. “Er… why don’t you go sit down, you want a drink made while you’re here?”

        “Yeah, thanks… thank you, um… surprise me.” She replied before he left.

        Happily Ever After was by far her favourite place in town, a beautiful book store with a quaint cafe upstairs, and only a half-hour walk from her college. So far, everything seemed to be going perfectly; first she was accepted by her college, her professor was great, the landlord of her apartment building finally fixed the elevator, and now all she had to do was get this job. It was like finally – finally – everything was looking up. The universe was finally favouring her.

        After a couple of minutes, a woman wearing a navy suit jacket and yellow shirt took a seat in front of her. “Hi, you must be (Y/N).” This must be Joyce.

        She would’ve stood up to greet her, but the woman had already sat. Oh gods was that a bad first impression? “Hi, um… thank you for- I really appreciate you having me here…” No no, now she was nervous.

        The bell chimed at the doors downstairs as someone entered, a light twinkling noise, she used the momentary distraction to take a breath.

        “So, (Y/N) – it is (Y/N), isn’t it?” Said Joyce, just as the barrister brought them some drinks (after a sip, she realised her surprise drink was a caramel latte), and they both thanked him as he walked away with a tray. “Yes, well, why don’t you tell me about yourself, hmm? Why did you apply for this job?” She seemed like a nice woman, presumably in her fifties (though (Y/N) was never so great with ages), her hair was black and streaked with strands of grey, pulled into a salt and pepper coloured bun. The wrinkles and lines around her eyes said she smiled often, which was somewhat reassuring, and (Y/N) got the impression that she was actually quite a nice person. Hopefully that was true.

        All she had to do was give good answers, show good manners, and add a little bit of charm. “Well, I’ve been here a lot before and it’s such a nice place,” good start, “and I, er… I don’t live too far away so, that’s a plus. But I’m starting college next month so I won’t be able to keep my full-time job, and when I saw your ad for part-time work… it seemed kind of perfect.” Okay, okay, that was good. (Y/N) smiled her sweetest smile, her ‘please love me’ smile, and took a sip of her beverage. Sweet, smooth, and warm.

        “Oh, a college student are you?” Said Joyce, as if the prospect of further education was an extremely interesting topic. “What for?”

        “Writing,” (Y/N) answered as she fiddled with her sleeves again. She had always loved stories – what better place to work during her studies than a book store, a place brimming with inspiration?

        Joyce beamed and drank some of her tea. “Ah yes, a good subject – always need more writers in the world. Wouldn’t you agree? I bet your parents are proud.”

        Oof…

        The girl shrugged as she held her mug between her hands. “No I… er… I’m afraid not.”

        “Why ever not?” Frowned the manageress.

        “I never met them.” Hopefully this wouldn’t turn their conversation awkward. That’s the thing, whenever she mentioned that situation to others, they always got very awkward and quiet, like they just hit her in the face; the truth was, as sad as it was, it didn’t bother her so much any more. Well, it still bothered her, she was still plagued with questions – who were they? What where their names? Why didn’t they keep her? -- but eventually, she got used to it. She’d gone her whole life without a family, why should she start moping about it now? This was a new chapter, after all. “It’s fine, really.” She said, before the inevitable spew of apologies and such started. “I’m over it.” Change the subject… change the subject… “So, um… why don’t you tell me a little about the position?”

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

        Mary-Margaret – or rather, Snow – had been crying all day. And her husband wasn’t much better. It should have been a happy occasion. The curse was broken – finally – after years and years of torment, they finally won. Everyone was okay. Their memories had returned – but with it came pain.

        They should be celebrating the victory, like everyone else, but the floods of tears wouldn’t stop. Worry and dread weighed heavy. Their daughter was nowhere to be seen.

        Thirty years had passed and no one had the faintest idea of what happened to (Y/N). No news reports, no records, nothing. For all they knew, she never made it to this world; for all they knew she was dead.

        Emma was still processing it all. First she finds out that her parents are here, then that all of this fairytale stuff is true, her son’s adoptive mother was a murderer and sorceress, and now she has a twin sister who may or may not even be alive. It was a hell of a lot to think about.

        After a few more hours, Mary-mar-- Snow was able to pull herself together. David had sat there with her, holding her in his embrace as she wept, and sat with a vacant expression on his face, as if he was too tired to hurt any more. All he could think about was the last time he saw them, his beautiful daughters. He wondered about her – refusing to believe there was any chance she didn’t make it – what was she like? Did she have his eyes? Her mother’s hair? Did she have a family? Was she happy? But the questions plagued him, and he felt so useless.

        Henry, however, was always the positive one – he didn’t need hope if he had the determination to fix it. Which is what lead him to Mr. Gold’s Pawn Shop. The bell chimed as he entered, he always did like the sound it made, and he made his way to the desk. The shop was filled with all sorts of things, some of which he recognised from the Book, and every time he came here he spotted something new.

        “Can I help you?” Said the man – Rumpelstiltskin, it was so obvious.

        “I want to ask for your help,” said Henry, trying to seem more confident than he was. He wasn’t afraid of him, he’d known Mr. Gold his whole life, after all, but he wasn’t sure how to play this situation.

        Mr. Gold nodded and smiled down at the boy (he’d hate to admit he had a soft spot for this one). “I’m assuming your mother doesn’t know you’re here,” he started, leaning on the table.

        “No… but this is really important.”

        “I’m guessing this is about the other girl,” Replied Rumple, watching Henry closely. The child nodded. “Well, I can’t help you Henry.”

        Henry shook his head; he refused to believe that. “Of course you can – you’re Rumpelstiltskin, aren’t you? I-I’ll make a deal with you or something, I know how this works.” He was a brave lad, Gold credited him that.

        Gold sighed, the boy was as stubborn as the rest of his family; but he gathered some things anyway. “Do you have anything that belonged to her?”

        Henry frowned. “No…”

        Of course, this had to be difficult. Gold raised a finger and told Henry to wait, then exited to the back, shuffling a few things about. After a minute or so, the man returned with a small bottle filled with a clear liquid and a rather large map. “Alright, this may work. Since we have nothing that belonged to her, normally I wouldn’t be able to do it – but, we may be able to do it with blood.”

        It sounded worse than it was.

        “But we… we don’t have her blood,” Henry said, it all sounded a bit sadistic to him.

        Rumple nodded. “Perhaps. But we have the blood of her twin, don’t we?”

        Henry beamed, there it was again – the hope. All he had to do was somehow get some of Emma’s blood. It was weird, but it would be worth it.

        “Alright,” said Mr. Gold, “you go get that, I have some calls to make.”

        Nodding obediently, Henry ran to the door, but stopped just before leaving. “Um… what about that, ‘all magic comes with a price’ stuff?”

        Again, Gold smiled at the boy, thinking how much he reminded him of years long since passed. “Let’s call it a favour, hm?”

        Though, he had no real intention of charging Henry.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

        Four months of work and almost three of college, and (Y/N) was already exhausted. But it would be so worth it. It was all going fine; Joyce had offered to pay her a little extra too, ever since she found out that (Y/N) was a decent baker, her home-made cupcakes and cookies were far better than the ones they ordered in (those always left an artificial aftertaste in your mouth). And that extra money went towards her savings – granted it was only about five dollars a month, but it was better than nothing.

        It was Saturday, and (Y/N) had agreed to take a double shift; her co-worker, Ben, had begged her to take his shift today, she wanted to be selfish and say no, but how could she? After Ben explained his plans for his boyfriend’s birthday, it would be plain cruel to refuse. But Ben was so nervous and excited that she was tempted to not only take his shift, but offer to go down to the jewellers and pick up the ring for him. She didn’t, of course, because she was working, but the sentiment still counts. She wished him all the luck in the world, hugged him tight, and told him to take the whole day.

        Setting down her coffee as a customer approached, (Y/N) stood and smiled as always. “Hi, what can I get you?” Today was going to be a long day.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

         “What do you mean you found her?”

        It was a Saturday morning, and Henry had invited everyone to Granny’s Diner for ‘something important’. After a while, Gold finally told Henry the news; he was able to track the girl as far as Manchester, New Hampshire, about an hour from Boston. After a few calls, he came back with a full profile. It had taken a long time, especially since this town never seemed to be normal for a single day, but they finally had something.

        All the Charmings were sat around the booth table, accompanied by Regina and Hook, of course. Henry squeezed himself on the edge with Emma as Gold pulled up a chair. The atmosphere around them was strange – tense and confusing – but Henry brushed it off and took a sip of his lemonade.

        “He means” Mr. Gold answered “that, after extensive research and several spells, I’ve managed to locate the whereabouts of your daughter.” He said, in a rather matter-of-fact manner.

         There was a heavy silence for a moment. “What?” Muttered Snow, already feeling emotional – if this was some kind of trick, she was going to lose it.

        Rumple took out from his suit jacket a thin folder, which he placed at the centre of the table. “(Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/S/N).” He quoted as David unfolded the profile, completely stunned as he took out a photo – of his daughter, whom he’d convinced himself he would never see. “First name found on her baby blanket, and other names given by the couple who first raised her. Found at the side of a road in New Hampshire eighteen years ago, placed in the foster system and moved about between nine homes. Good grades, no arrest records, no expulsions, a few detentions here and there but otherwise a good student. I made a few calls, put in some favours, possibly the odd threat, and I’ve found out she lives in Manchester now. Got her own place a few months ago, just started University for a literature course, and working in a cafe part time--”

        “--Wait wait wait,” Emma interrupted after being handed the file, “did you say eighteen? She’s eighteen? How is that possible?”

        Gold shrugged. “That, I haven’t yet figured out. My best guess is that the wardrobe sent her to another time, perhaps it couldn’t take both of you at once.”

        There was another silence, no one knew quite what to say; all of this information at once about a girl they’d wondered about since they first started to remember. The last time she was seen was when she was barely an hour old – and now they were looking at pictures of a young girl becoming a young woman. School photos and chess club photos and basketball photos, photos with friends and foster siblings, photos at home and at the park and in the city. Her whole life in a small collection of pictures, her personality shining through each one.

        “Well…” breathed Gillian, inspecting a photograph on the table, “when do we leave?”

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

        It had been a busy morning, and now as barely a handful of customers roamed the shop and cafe, (Y/N) finally had a chance to catch up on her reading assignment. She sat at the counter with her book in her lap and a mocha beside her, labelling and annotating wherever she needed (in pencil, of course). She truly loved working there; it was always warm and peaceful, the smells of coffee and pastry hung in the air, and she got a ten percent discount on any of the books she wanted – it was like a library, but better.

        She kept an eye on the few customers sat at the tables, reading their newly purchased books while enjoying a snack and beverage, checking if anyone needed a refill. The bell above the doors downstairs informed her of someone coming or going, and the swing of the doors a moment later blew a light breeze throughout, it had been raining lightly.

        (Y/N) was too engrossed in her chapter of ‘A Long Long way’ by Sebastian Barry to notice the somewhat large group of people slowly making their way over.

        “Um… excuse me…” came a soft voice from the other side of the counter.

        Looking up quickly, (Y/N) stood and smiled, putting her book back on the shelf by her knee. “Oh sorry,” she said, realising that she had quite a few orders to fill, “what can I get you?”

        The woman seemed stunned for a minute, staring at her like she saw a ghost. She was pretty, (Y/N) thought.

        Upon noticing her stunned friend, a ravenette woman slid up and made herself known. “Can we have four regular coffees, two black teas, and a cocoa with cinnamon, please.” Then she beckoned her friends quickly to a table on the left, which overlooked the street.

        A boy, possibly in his early teens (as mentioned, she wasn’t very good with ages) who she hadn’t seen before tailed behind them and flashed her a grin. “And some cookies, please.”

        They all gathered at the far end of the room as (Y/N) began to prepare their order, the sound of the machines filling the room as she made each one. She set out several different mugs and cups, each one completely different depending on who each cup was for.

        They watched her cautiously, not that she noticed. Mary-Margaret looked as if she were trying to keep herself together, and David held her hand tightly under the table. She was beautiful, they thought, but that could be parental bias. Emma couldn’t look away either, picking out different things about the girl; similarities in their features, the way she was dressed, the jewellery she decorated herself with, putting her detective skills to work. Regina and Hook were more curious than anything. And Henry, well, the boy was more eager than anything else, excited and happy.

        “I can’t believe it’s her…” David whispered, his last words to her stuck on a loop in his head.

        Regina tapped her nails on the table, glancing out of the window. “I understand that this is probably emotional for you but have you taken a minute to think about what the hell you’re going to say? And stop staring.”

        “You’re right,” Snow groaned, it wasn’t like they could just go up and say ‘hi, we’re your parents! Don’t worry, we’re not as young as we seem, we’ve been under a spell for the last thirty years!’

        “Well, you might want to figure it out soon,” said Mr. Gold, “she’s coming over.”

        All heads snapped her way as (Y/N) came over with a tray, setting down their drinks and the cookies at the centre of the table. “Here you go,” she smiled, setting down the cocoa for Henry (who was more than pleased to find it topped with cream and marshmallows). “Can I get you anything else?”

        There was a beat.

        “When do you get off work?” Henry suddenly asked.

        (Y/N) blinked in surprise. Was this thirteen year old flirting with her something? “Er--”

        “No- um- sorry,” said the woman in the red jacket, looking startled, “I… er… I’m a private investigator, and- well, we’ve come all this way to… talk to you.”

        Well… this certainly wasn’t how she thought today would go. Was she in some kind of trouble? Because that would be horribly inconvenient. “Oh… I can uh… I don’t- my shift ends at six but… I can stop for a few minutes?” Oh gods, she’d never been in a situation like this before.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

        This was confusing. It was all so confusing.

        It was a lot to take in. Her heart was pounding, palms clammy, mouth dry, and her brain was either completely frozen or calculating at lightspeed.

        After the strangers invited her to sit with them, they explained first where they were from (which sounded very made up, by the way) and introduced themselves, and went on to tell her that they had been looking for her for a very long time. That they were her family; that Mary-Margaret and David were her parents, and the investigator was her sister, and the boy was her nephew. They explained that they never really wanted to give her up, that they wanted her to have her best chance.

        It was a lot to take in. This morning she’d woken up as a solitary person, as she always had, alone in the world and determined to get by on her own just fine. But now, she apparently had more family than she had ever expected. They showed her some proof, of course, as much as they could; but, for some reason, she didn’t feel that she needed the evidence; she picked up on their similarities, how a strange familiarity came over her. She read somewhere once that a child never forgets their mother’s smell (or was it her voice) – she desperately hoped that was true, that that was this strange feeling.

        After their explanation, there was a stillness about them. The cafe was empty, given the time, most people were back at work, except for a young man studying at the other side of the room (where he’d been all day). It seemed, none of them knew where to go from there, she figured they probably hadn’t had time to think this meeting through.

        “I…” (Y/N) started, playing with the ring on her finger, “I don’t really know what to say…”

        “We were hoping,” said Mary-Margaret in a gentle, motherly voice, “that you might want to come home with us… for a few days maybe.”

        Oh hell her hands were shaking on her lap. “I…” Does she want to go with them? Could she? At this point they were still perfect strangers – not to mention how it all seemed to be going too fast. “Thank you, I appreciate the offer – really. But um… I have to work… and I have a paper due on Monday.”

        The group’s faces fell in poorly hidden disappointment.

        “But we can stay in touch… maybe I could visit for winter break?”

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

        It was the strangest day she’d had, by far. But by the time they took their leave, and (Y/N) got back to work, she had the most unusual feeling in her chest which she couldn’t describe.

        “I wish she was coming back with us,” said Henry as they made their way downstairs.

        David laid an arm across his shoulders as he took a final look back at his youngest daughter, watching her serve the dark haired boy a fresh drink while he studied, blushing up at her as he thanked her and smiled nervously. “It’s alright, we’ll see her again.” He said, seeing (Y/N) making small talk with the obviously smitten student, “She’s made a life here, I’m glad.”

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•