A Little Thing Called Fate: Chapter 5

A Once Upon a Time Fanfic

The last time Lily saw Emma Swan, she didn’t believe in magic, just broken hearts and broken promises and a world that picked favorites.

Now, fifteen years later, and she does believe–in curses, in darkness, and an Author who plays favorites just as surely as the cruel world she grew up in.

She doesn’t know why she came, except that everything in her life fell apart after Emma, so maybe she’s the key to piecing it all back together. Emma will bring her mother back to her, then they can part ways and never have to see each other again. She tells herself she doesn’t want anything else, but when she leaves in the morning, she leaves her number behind, and when the text comes the next day, inviting her for dinner again, she can’t say no.

Dinner is at the table tonight, but it’s no Norman Rockwell with the takeout boxes strewn across the table and Killian and Henry bent over a math book in the corner. Emma’s quiet in a way she hadn’t been before. Lily sees the red around her eyes and tells herself it doesn’t worry her.

When dinner and homework are finished, Killian and Emma share a brief look, then Killian grabs a telescope from somewhere and drags Henry out with promises of stargazing.

The door clicks shut behind them, and the whole apartment goes still, the only sounds the hum of the fridge and the soft ticking of the clock. Just when Lily thinks she’s about to snap, Emma shifts slightly in her seat, then pushes it back. “You, um, left something here. Let me go get it.”

She was crying, Lily realizes, when she comes back with the stack of pages she’d left before storming out the other day, and something twists inside her. Vindication, maybe.

Emma sucks in a shaky breath, staring down at the papers in her hands. “I don’t–I don’t know how you got these pages. At first I thought they were from Henry’s book, but I read it all through, and I never saw this story.” She holds out the stack, but they’re shuffled out of order, the one on top bearing the end of the story: Snow White and Prince Charming with a portal beside them and a dragon’s egg.

“When you said I owed you, I thought–” she breaks off suddenly, shaking her head. “But you’re right. I do owe you, because your whole life, everything you’ve gone through, it’s all because of me. You tried to tell me before, but I wasn’t ready to listen then, and I am so, so sorry.”

“I guess Killian was right,” she says with a bitter laugh as she wipes off her cheeks. Lily’s surprised to find she has some tears of her own. “I guess it was fate that brought us together. I don’t know if there’s anything I can do to make it up to you now, but . . . I’d like to try. My parents took away your family, but maybe I can give you one.” She holds out her hand like a lifeline. “What do you say?”

The voice, the hate and anger that’s clutched onto her since childhood, rears its head, telling her to fight, to yell, to push this pain on Emma, so at least if she’s suffering, she’s not suffering alone, but beneath that–

Beneath that is a hurting girl, still standing at a bus stop, begging for a friend.

Emma turns the light off after Henry goes to bed. It’s easier to hide in the dark.

“Thank you for watching Henry this evening,” she says when Killian comes back into the living room, hair wet from his shower.

He sinks onto the couch beside her. “Of course.” He slides his arm around her shoulders and pulls her close. “Are you alright?”

She manages a half-shrug against him. “I don’t know. I feel a little better after talking to her, but . . . I don’t know how to fix it.”

His arm tightens around her. “You understand that isn’t your responsibility, don’t you? Your parents made a mistake. That does not make it your fault.”

She wants to believe that, but– “They did it because of me. They didn’t even know me yet, but they decided they couldn’t trust me and ruined her life, and it’s just . . . I feel like I’m losing them all over again, because I don’t know how to reconcile this with the heroes everyone tells me they are, and they aren’t even here for me to talk to them about it.”

He says nothing, and she’s glad. There’s nothing to say that will make this better, but he still provides the comfort he can, just holding her and letting his fingers trace patterns over her bare shoulder.

“I hated her for a while,” she says eventually. “I thought she made me lose my last chance at having a family, and I didn’t know how to forgive that. But I never really stopped caring about her, even though I tried to, and maybe it’s crazy, but I don’t want to lose her again.” She sighs and lets her head rest on his shoulder. “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t think she can forgive me. She’s leaving tomorrow, going back to Massachusetts.”

“Are you sure that means she doesn’t forgive you?”

She tilts her head to look up at him. “What else would it mean?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Well, I hardly claim to know your friend as well as you do, but if it were you . . .?”

If it were her, she’d be getting the hell out of dodge before she could get her heart broken again.

She takes a slow breath. “You think I should keep reaching out?”

His hand slides up her arm, then her neck to brush her hair out of her face. “Aye, I think you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Lily’s not sure what she expected to come of her trip, but it isn’t the series of sporadic texts she gets for the next few weeks, which culminates in a link to an ad for an apartment close to Emma’s own, along with a single word: interested?

It’s a bad idea, but she’s hardwired for those, so she agrees. Emma helps her rent it and look for a job close by, and for a while it almost feels like they’re friends again–up until Emma ghosts her as soon as it’s all settled. And, well, it’s not like Lily reaches out either, but still. This was all Emma’s idea, so shouldn’t she be the one to call, text, something?

There’s still nothing when she reaches her new apartment building, and when she swings open the door to her brand new apartment, empty, beige walls and old, brown carpet stare back at her, and–

–she can’t do this.

What was she thinking, leaving what little bit of a life she had just to start all over again because Emma asked her to? She’s crazy, and she–she can’t breathe. She slams the door shut again and tries to ignore her hands shaking. She’s leaving. She’s dropping off the key, and driving straight back to Massachusetts, and blocking Emma’s number–

She stops at the sight of the man and boy standing in front of her truck. A man and boy she knows.

“Hey,” Henry calls, waving, and she tucks her hands into her jacket pockets so he can’t see them shake. The pirate is too quick, and she pretends not to notice his raised eyebrow.

“Hey,” she manages. “What–what are you doing here? Is Emma with you?”

Henry shakes his head. “She didn’t want to come.” Lily tries to hide her flinch at the flippant confirmation of her fears, but he isn’t done. “She’s afraid you’ll disappear if she comes on too strong, cause that’s what she always does.” He grins. “I didn’t think so, though.”

Killian nods at Henry. “The lad and I thought you could use a hand moving your things in.”

She raises an eyebrow, because sarcasm is easier than acknowledging the lump in her throat. “A hand pun? Really?” He smirks.

“So?” Henry asks, pointing to the U-haul hitched to her truck. “Want some help?”

She turns the key over in her pocket, shifting from one foot to the other, then swallows. “Yeah, that’s–that would be great. Thanks.”

Once they get all the boxes inside, Killian enlists Henry’s help in putting together all the furniture she had to take apart, while Lily unpacks her dishes and laughs at his struggles.

“Who wrote this bloody list of instruction, and why are there three different sizes of screws?”

Henry snatches the instruction booklet from him, then points to a slightly smaller screwdriver than the one Killian’s holding. “You’re supposed to use that one. Have you really never put furniture together before?”

He glares at the new screwdriver, like he could make it burst into flames if he stared hard enough. Maybe he could back in his world. “Lad, most of my furniture was older than you.”

“Ok, well that makes sense, I guess.” Henry watches the screwdriver warily. “Maybe I should finish this, and you can help Lily in the kitchen.”

Still clearly offended by the instruction booklet, Killian complies, passing off the tool and joining Lily in the kitchen, where he finds some soap and a dishrag and starts thoroughly wiping down the counter.

“Wow,” she drawls. “The great Captain Jones bested by an IKEA coffee table.”

He points the dishrag at her with a mock glare. “I’ve killed men for lesser insults.”

“Mmhmm.” How long has it been since she had this? Someone just to tease without having to worry about the consequences?

“Captain?” Henry calls from the living room. “Were you in the navy?”

“Aye, lad, for a time.” He turns to grin at Henry. “Then I decided that life wasn’t for me and decided to turn to a life of piracy.”

Henry laughs. “Yeah, I’m sure. You know, you come up with lots of cool stories. You should write a book or something.”

“Maybe I should.”

It ends up taking most of the day to get all her things unpacked, so she orders a couple pizzas, figuring the least she could do to think them for helping all day is to feed them supper. Henry sits on the counter to eat, and she watches him, thinking as an adult, she should probably discourage the habit. She grabs her own slice of pizza and hops up beside him.

“What’s on your mind, lad?” Killian asks from where he’s sitting on the floor, and Lily turns to face the kid, realizing he is oddly quiet. He’s spent almost the entire day chattering about something or other, until now.

“Nothing,” Henry mutters, swinging his legs back and forth.

It’s clearly a lie, but Lily isn’t sure what to say. She’s not his parent, or even his almost-parent, like Killian. She’s just a stranger his mom knows, and he has no reason to talk to her. But she remember too many years of just wanting someone to listen to her to just sit back quietly.

“Doesn’t sound like nothing to me.” She keeps her eyes on her food, pretending not to care too much about whether he replies. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him turn to look at her.

“It’s–it’s nothing important, anyway. It’s just . . . silly.”

She shrugs as she finishes her bite of pizza, then says, “I like silly sometimes.”

“It’s not . . . it’s not like I believe in magic or anything,” Henry says. Lily’s gaze snaps up to meet Killian’s, and he looks just as wary as she feels. “But there’s this fountain mom and I go to sometimes, and we’ll wish in it, just for fun, you know?”

His legs go still, and he ducks his head, pretending to stare at his food. “And it’s just . . . I wished for you guys.”

Killian’s cup slips out of his hands, clattering to the floor. It’s empty, but Lily isn’t sure she would have gotten up to clean it if it wasn’t. “What?”

“Well, I mean, not specifically.” Henry’s shoulders are nearly up to his ears now. “Cause, you know, I didn’t know you back then, but mom just . . . gets lonely sometimes, even though she pretends she doesn’t, and I love her, but sometimes I get lonely too, so I just . . . wished to have a family.” He looks up, suddenly, directly at Killian. “And the next day she met you.” He turns, and Lily realizes she hasn’t really experience the full force of those brown eyes until just now. “And now you’re here too.”

Killian laughs, the sound suspiciously watery. “Well, Henry.”

Henry smirks. “So you do know my name.”

This makes Killian laugh again, but he quickly sobers up. “Henry, if you wish it, I will happily call you family.”

Lily’s grateful to him for pulling Henry’s attention away for a minute, giving her time to blink away any stinging in her eyes and to clear her throat.

When Emma offered her family, she hadn’t really believed it, but here’s this kid, just laying out every dream she’s ever had–if she’ll just take it. She’s been waiting and waiting all her life for someone to reach out to her, to offer her family, a real home. She just never expected it to hurt so much just to reach back.

Her throat tightens, but she leans over, letting her shoulder bump into Henry’s as she takes another bite of pizza, and he beams, as though he hears every word she can’t speak.

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