Narrative

Pavement. Cold night air. Dampness.

Three years. That's what it had been. Three whole years, not a sign, not a word. Did anyone know? No. Did anyone care? No. It went on like this days after the character's disappearance, weeks, months, finally years. 3 years. No one remembered. No one even cared.

Three years ago.

Jean Descole, a world-renounced scientist, had created the power to make words tangible. And not like good writing. Actually tangible. Like you can-talk-to-them kind tangible.

Luke Skywalker. Leia Skywalker. Erik, the Phantom of the Opera. They were all... real.

But there had been trouble with this. The characters were pulled from their books, and in the process, some changed. Like a lot.

Luke was an ADHD kid and Leia was a texter. Some were just annoying.

Problem. The characters had disappeared thee years ago. Well, she was a time traveler. Spent five years of her life with them. Then... back to the present... and they had vanished. Not even in the books anymore. Erased from history.

But that was beside the point. How was Erik doing? Was she still alive? These questions haunted her every day in her existence. She was becoming a mere shadow of the person she had once been. Jenny hadn't even noticed how much she needed them all here. No more crazy Luke. No more maniacal laughter echoing down the hall followed by a security guard's shouting for Leia to clear the building. No more anything. She just felt so... lonely.

She needed to clear her mind. She grabbed her leather jacket and headed out the door. A walk would clear her mind, for sure. She pulled the leather jacket on snugly and started walking down the ugly grey cement sidewalk, noting the familiar cracks and it's imperfection. The sound of a cop's siren echoed along the chilly road. She came to a crosswalk and looked both ways to make sure there were no cars coming. When she was sure, she started to cross, but it was only moments later that she found herself lying on the pavement. Pavement. Cold night air. Dampness. She felt the warm trickle of blood. The sirens were blaring. So close by. Then she realized that she must've been hit. Her seeing went a little fuzzy. For some reason, she was completely calm. "Oh well," she thought. "I guess I thought I was going to live a little longer." She heard the frantic cop calling for help. She couldn't hold on any longer and found herself slowly slipping into the welcoming arms of unconsciousness.

When Jen opened her eyes groggily she was aware of someone kneeling over her. Who was this? She seemed vaguely familiar. Maybe it was her bright blonde hair or her red leather jacket. Wait. She sat up and rubbed her eyes in confusion. No. She wasn't dreaming. Then... this was Emma!

"Emma!" she gasped. "Hold on," Emma said. "How do you know my name?" Jenny stood up and realized she was on the sidewalk. "I know you! I've known you for years!" she said, giggling eerily. Emma just shook her head. "How did you get here, anyway? I've never seen you here before." Jenny paused. She got hit by a cop car, and... Oh. Crap. "Am I in Storybrooke?" She asked very slowly. Emma sighed. "I believe we are. Did you take a fall? I noticed you lying here when I was taking a walk." Jenny struggled to stay standing. Woah. "YES! I'M HERE!" She yelled triumphantly. Emma took a step back and just shook her head. "I guess you're okay. Did you just move here? If so, you should stay at Granny's." Jen nodded.

The walk to Granny's wasn't far. She walked up some old stone steps and quietly opened the door a crack, peeking in. "Hello?" She said after a few seconds. An old woman was sitting at the counter. "Oh, are you... staying?" She seemed surprised to have a guest. Jen nodded. "Yes," she said slowly. "How much is it for one night?" she asked. "50 dollars," Granny said. Jen dug around in her pocket, praying she had some money. She sighed in relief and pulled out a hundred dollar bill. After she had gotten her change, the old woman handed her the room key. "Welcome to Storybrooke," was all she said.

Once in her room, Jenny wearily collapsed on her bed. How had she gotten back? Maybe in the morning she would wake up in the hospital in her world. But she very well knew this was real. This had happened before. Well, except they had come to her world, but still, she knew it was very much possible. What if she saw Erik? She hadn't seen him for ages... Just the thought of seeing all her friends again made her heart soar. "I'll find out tomorrow," she thought before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The sunlight peeked through the little red and purple embroidered curtain. Jenny rolled over and sighed when she realized she was still in Storybrooke. She might as well make the best out of it.

Jenny

I wanted to go out and see what had changed since I had last been here (the rose had helped) so I got up and left the motel. When I was outside with fresh air I could clear my clouded mind and think for a moment. I walked out to the toll bridge and sighed, folding my arms on the railing. I couldn't hear anything, but I swore there was a presence behind me. It was like a ghost. I turned, but no one was there. I shook my head and turned around. I felt eyes staring into the back of my head. The presence I could sense was vaguely familiar... Where had I felt that before? A small memory came to life in the back of my mind. Could it be? I stared out into the murky depths of the river before finding the courage to mutter one word. "Erik?"

There was no reply and I sighed. I was probably going nuts. I turned to leave because the presence I sensed discomforted me deeply. Before I could take a step, however, I heard a voice coming from the right side of me.

"Where do you think you're going?" The voice growled. I couldn't make the distinction whether it was a man or a woman, but it sure sounded familiar. I turned around sharply.

"Who's there? I don't believe in ghosts, if that's what you are." There was no one there, and I folded my arms over my chest. "I'm not leaving until you show yourself," I said sharply.

"I can easily snap your neck! Get out!" the voice barked. I rolled my eyes. "Fine then, Mr. Phantom, I'll leave. You can just go back to stalking Christine," I said quickly. I needed to know if this was Erik or not. The voice growled menacingly.

"Christine has no-" the voice stopped abruptly. I got him. Point one for me. "How do you- never mind. Get out." the voice shouted. I shook my head violently.

"I can hang around the toll bridge if I want to." I said suddenly.

"I'm warning you..." Great. Now I was pissing him off. I heard the sound of a lasso flying through the air swiftly, but I was faster and my hand was up to the level of my eyes before it flew around my neck. A man dressed in a fine black suit stood in front of me, his grasp tight on the lasso. He wore a black mask.. Black, black, black. Only one person I knew wore a mask and dressed only in black. Erik. Well, if he had been mad before, I couldn't even fathom what he was feeling now. He had never missed before, and here I come out of the blue, and he fails.

"You know, is this how you treat every lady who crosses your path?" I snapped. Then I got an idea. "Do you usually treat women with such scant civility?" I said, quoting Giovanni. He didn't seem to remember. He snarled a bit and pulled the lasso tighter, but my arm blocked the catgut rope.

"I could easily kill you," he snarled angrily. A light bulb flashed in my head.

"Well then, I guess after you do so you can just tell Christine you murdered her best friend. Give Amy my regards as well." He stared at me for a moment. I thought I was going to die (And by the hand of my best friend!) but he just sighed and loosened the lasso.

"Fine, I'll let you go, only because Christine wouldn't-" I looked up.

"What?" He shook his head.

"Just get out," he hissed. I straightened my coat and folded my arms. Wait. I might get him mad. I raised my hands up to the level of my eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere, Erik." He stared at me a little blankly.

"How-" I cut him off.

"I know that you wear a mask because you're deformed on the right side of your face, that you like mints, you didn't really mean to kill Joseph Buquet, and that grasshoppers jump jolly high. You could trust me, you know." I noted that his hands were quivering with the urge to kill.

"Who are you?" He demanded.

"Only your best friend, but you don't seem to remember me. Funny thing, actually, Nadir-" his hands balled up into fists.

"Get out!" he yelled.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. But I think I can help you with the fop and Christine." He shook his head. Man, if I irritated him beyond the point of no return, then I would end up six feet under. No stress, right?

"Get out!" he shouted.

"Fine." was all I said. When I was about a block away, I ran for dear life to the motel. Once I was in my room, I locked the door, then locked the window. I was out of breath and couldn't stop thinking. What had Erik been doing there? I racked my brain for answers. Did he kill someone? Maybe he was trying to get rid of the evidence. That must be it. I shook my head and pulled the covers over me, flicking the light switch on the side of my bed to "off".

When I woke the next morning I dressed and went downstairs to pay Granny. Once I had paid I decided to go take a walk. I counted my money. Only a few hundred dollars remained in my wallet. I thought deeply about my little encounter with Erik. Had he killed someone? If so, who? If he hadn't, then why had he wanted me to leave the toll bridge? Was there trouble coming? I was so lost.