Hi there everyone! I've actually never written a Once fanfic before but I've been wanting to for a long time. I always thought my first ouat fic would be Emma-centric but this season I fell in love with Alice and so here I am.
Tw for mental illness'; depression, anxiety, psychosis, hallucinations and voices, dissociation, self-harm (maybe, undecided atm) etc. I have experience here so I hope it seems authentic.
I figured that the curse only did so much in relation to Alice's mental health and that some of it stemmed before the curse.
I hope I can do them justice.
This is set pre-curse break, but more will be added after the.
I hope you enjoyā¯¤
/
Tilly wandered around the Heights, her trusty backpack over her shoulders, but no real idea how she came to be outside.
She'd been at home. Well her pre-home, the place she'd lived at before Rogers at invited her to stay with him.
She had been looking through her trinkets, deciding what she wanted to take back with her, then the next thing she knew, she was outside and walking by the troll under the bridge.
"Oh Mister Troll, I wish you could talk back to me." Tilly sighed softly, rubbing her forehead and looking around.
Her feet felt cold and they hurt. She found her feet very bare of socks or shoes and she just sighed again.
It wasn't the first time it had happened and she doubted it would be the last.
At least she had her backpack. She fiddled around with it for a few minutes, pulling out random items before she found the phone Weaver had given her.
There were only three numbers inside; Weaver, Rogers, and Margot.
She and Margot had been getting on great, and the girl had seen her 'not so good' before, but this was still crazy even to herself, so she pressed on the picture of Rogers.
Waiting impatiently for him to pick up the phone, she tapped her foot against the gravel. There would undoubtedly already be bits of stone and/or glass in her soles already so it didn't matter much.
"Tilly?" Came the soft voice from the other end of the phone.
The blonde inexplicably found tears burning her eyelids. "I got a bit upside down again." She said quietly, rubbing her eyes.
"Where are you?" Noise clattered at the other side of the phone and Tilly realised he was picking up his keys and moving out the door.
"Um...I'm at the troll under the bridge." Her voice wavered.
"I'm on my way, stay there and don't move if you can help it. Okay, Till?"
"Okay." She nodded even though he couldn't see, clicking the end call button and holding the phone to her chest.
"Oh Tilly, always get so muddled up." She murmured, taking shaky steps to the foot of the troll and sitting down.
She hadn't a jacket and it was chilly so she placed her bag down and wrapped her arms around herself.
"Won't be alone for long." She nodded, watching the roads for Rogers' car.
It wasn't even ten minutes later when the car pulled up and Roger' climbed out, holding one of his jackets.
"Tilly." He sounded relieved as he knelt in front of her, wrapping the jacket around her shoulders.
"Hi there, Detective." Tilly smiled brightly, resisting the urge to hug him very hard.
"Let's get you home, yeah? We can have some sandwiches, maybe have Margot over for dinner." He said softly, gently lifting her up.
Tilly couldn't help the wince as her bare feet squished into the gravel.
"Sorry, detective, I seem to have forgotten my shoes." She chuckled nervously, eyes downcast.
Rogers nodded, squeezing her shoulder. "That's no problem, Till." He hummed, squatting down with his back to her.
"Here, jump up on my back, arms around my neck."
Tilly smiled, warmth bubbling in her chest as she carefully climbed up on his back, arms secure around his neck.
"And up we go." Rogers' murmured, lifting her with ease, like he'd done it before.
"You don't have any kids, right?" Tilly murmured, leaning her cheek against his shoulder.
"Not that I know of." He replied, almost sadly.
"Well I guess you have me, I'm like a kid most of the time." She smiled.
Rogers' chuckled as he unlocked the car and carefully lowered her into the passenger seat.
He climbed into the driver's seat and out of habit, reached over to buckle her seatbelt, in case Tilly forgot.
In twenty minutes, they were back home, a takeout bag of food in Rogers' hands.
Tilly sat down on the couch, lifting her feet to inspect them. They were bleeding a little but nothing was stuck in them.
"What's the plan for today, Detective?'' Tilly tore open the wrapping on her marmalade sandwich, taking a big bite.
She was hungry a lot of the time, but after an 'episode', she was often ravenous. Rogers' had known this and had gotten her two sandwiches and her favourite blueberry muffin from the bakery.
"Whatever you want. I was just doing paperwork all day, I can do that here." He handed her a napkin and knelt in front of her with the first aid kit.
"Feet up on the table."
"Sure you don't mind being here?" Tilly asked, mouth full as she lifted her feet up.
"Not at all, Till." Rogers' carefully cleaned and sprayed the bottoms of her feet, handing her a pair of thick socks to put on.
"There's no point putting band aids on there, they'll only come off when you move but these should help the pain when you walk." He patted her knee and cleared away the kit.
He gave Tilly a little time to eat her sandwiches and when she started on the muffin, he sat on the coffee table in front of her.
"Tilly, did you take your meds today?" He asked quietly.
The blonde hummed around a mouthful of muffin and nodded. "Yeah. But you know how it gets, sometimes things go upside down even with them." She shrugged.
"Alright." He nodded, leaving to get her some apple juice from the fridge.
He text Weaver and let him know Tilly was home and safe, and that he would be back in tomorrow.
When he got back to the living room, Tilly was talking to herself.
It wasn't unusual, she often talked or thought out loud, and enjoyed talking to inanimate objects. Most of the time it was second nature to her, and was harmless.
But this time Tilly looked distressed and she had her hands over her ears, her half eaten muffin discarded on the floor.
"Tilly?" Rogers' asked firmly, stepping into her line of sight.
"I'm not bad, I'm not." She whispered, squeezing her eyes shut.
She was rocking forwards and back, shaking her head at words only she could hear.
He carefully touched her knee and her elbow, bringing her hand from her ear so she could hear him.
"Tilly, hey, can you look at me for a minute?"
Her eyelids flew open and Rogers' could see that her pupils were blown wide and were full of unshed tears.
"Detective, they keep saying I'm bad, but I'm not bad, and I'm not mad, you said I'm not." Tilly shuddered.
"You are not bad, or mad." Rogers' shook his head, squeezing her fingers.
"You listen to me, Tilly, not them. This is our home, you're safe here and they do not get to tell you what or who you are." He said softly, but still firmly.
"I'm not bad." Tilly whispered, tears leaking down her cheeks. "So why do they keep saying I am?"
Rogers' didn't have an answer for that. Sometimes Tilly saw things, heard things no one else could. The pills helped but like Tilly had said, sometimes episodes happened even with them.
"I don't know, Tilly, but they're wrong." He squeezed her hand again, trying to ground her into reality.
Tilly shook her head again, breathing hitching as she closed her eyes again.
"'M not bad. I'm not." She whispered, her free hand snaking up to her face. She hit her palm against her temple, growling low in her throat. "Shut up!"
She pulled herself away from Rogers' and climbed to her feet, pacing the small room, from one side to the other.
"Tilly-" Rogers' stepped towards her, lost. He'd gotten better at helping with these episodes, but she was reaching hysterical and her breathing was laboured.
One problem at a time, Rogers.
"Tilly, sit down for me." He touched her elbow and guided her to the couch again.
He cupped the back of her neck and gently pushed her head down to her knees a little.
"Breathe, Till, just like we practiced. In through your nose," He inhaled slowly through his nose, "and out through your mouth." He did that too.
"You're okay, you're here and they're not. You can breathe, you're okay." He murmured, gently coaxing her to take some deep breaths.
A couple of minutes later, Tilly had her breathing under control. But it was clear the voices were still bothering her.
Rogers' turned the tv on, chose something harmless on the kids channel and turned it on loud.
"Tilly, you with me?" He asked gently.
The blonde nodded tiredly in response, rubbing her eyes. "They're not so loud anymore." She said quietly.
"Do you want to take a pill?" He left the choice up to her. They had meds for times like these, they would make her tired and help with the overwhelming emotions and feelings, as well as hopefully quiet the voices.
"I think...yes, that would be good." She frowned, fiddling with her hands, cheeks flushed.
"Till, you don't need to be ashamed or embarrassed about this." He shook his head, squeezing her shoulder.
"I'm sorry about my muffin." She said softly, mournful eyes on the spilled crumbs on the floor.
"Don't worry about it, I'll get another tomorrow, maybe two." He touched her knee and moved to retrieve her juice from the kitchen and get out one of the pills from the locked box in the back of the cupboard.
Handing them to her, he watched her take the pill before walking around the room.
He dimmed the lights and closed the curtains, picking up Tilly's favourite fluffy blanket and laying it over her.
After finishing her juice, Tilly lifted her feet up onto the couch, shuffling until she was laying down with her head on Rogers' knee.
It couldn't have been very comfortable, but it would be useless trying to get her to move.
With the sounds of the tv in the background, and Rogers' humming softly under his breath, Tilly accepted the waves of tiredness that washed over her, and fell asleep.
Safe in the knowledge that Rogers' was watching over her and protecting her from the voices.