Pinocchio is used to being alone. He's grown so used to it, he hardly minds anymore. Because you don't just bounce back from betraying the rebellion that's going to save to world to The Master. And yes, the Grimms say they have all forgiven him, but he sees that even if they believe they have, subconsciously, they can't accept him. Sometimes he'll catch a wary glance when they ask him to hold Basil, or a decision not to leave him alone in the house after all.
So now Pinocchio was sitting on the front porch, swinging his legs despondently and feeling like the little boy he was. It didn't matter how intellectually superior he was, the fact that he could beat anyone at chess or violin or trivia. It didn't matter that he spoke seven languages or had discovered the theory for time travel because no matter what, his father was still dead and he was still a child. He'd grown several inches since the war, but was now stuck in the awkward period, not puberty but on the brink of such.
And there he'd been stuck for the last few months. He wasn't growing anymore.
Pinocchio wondered if it might be because he wasn't growing as a person. He was doing his best to be kind to others and be more understanding, but his body was betraying him, unwilling to budge from its awkward point, where his face was slightly greasy, but wasn't breaking out, and his feet and hands were much too big for the rest of him. He'd hoped to avoid the uncomfortable period of change he'd watched Sabrina and Puck endure, simply ascend gracefully into manhood, but alas, he was trapped, teetering on the threshold of metamorphasis.
He stares into his hands, his long-fingered man-hands and frowns.
The door creaks as it opened behind him.
Pinocchio's head snaps up and he glances warily at the intruder.
"Good morning, Red. May I help you?" He asks coolly.
She shakes her head with a sway of her soft curls and goes to sit next to him.
He's about to protest and tell her to go find her own seat, the dismissal is right on his tongue, but then for some reason he just doesn't. He closes his mouth and looks sideways at her. She's sitting next to him, but not looking back even though he knows she can feel his stare on her. Her crystal blue eyes look straight forward as she gazes steadily at the sunrise.
The morning light has only just begun to break the edge of the horizon, streaking the sky with purple and gold.
Pinocchio opens to his mouth to say something, ask her why she's out here, how she's doing, just anything. But no sound rises to his lips and so he closes his mouth again and lets her be.
They sit in silence for a time, and he swears he can actually see the colours of the light spreading up in the sky, inch by inch.
"I know what you're going through." She finally speaks in her quiet voice. His eyes immediately flick to her and he raises a questioning eyebrow.
"They all say they forgive you, and they mean it. But they don't, and you just know it." She turns to look at him. "Am I correct?"
He swallows and blinks a few times because that is exactly what he's going through. "I-I- yes."
"They don't trust you to be alone, or with the baby, they don't trust you to do simple things like cook dinner." Her gaze seems to see right through him and his eyebrows lower over his eyes.
"How did you know all that?" He asks, genuinely astounded.
The smile she offers him is bitter, "That was me. You might not remember, I don't think you were here, but I used to be a part of The Scarlet Hand."
Pinocchio doesn't react; he knows this already, he's heard stories.
"I was, frankly put, insane. Out of my mind, but I had a baby and a Jaberwocky and two fully grown adults in a little house of my own and I was happy." She pauses, remembering these things and shakes her head slowly. "When the Grimms finally cured me, no one trusted me. And it hurt, but I knew that was my fault."
He nods because he can identify with this. This is a familiar scenario, a memory of hers that he is living.
"But the Grimms are the best people you'll ever meet. The most understanding humans, the bravest, most stubborn, beautiful, kind people, more than any Everafter. And it's sad to see how much some Everafters hate them because their family has dedicated their entire lives to us. And they will forgive you eventually. It takes some time, but they will." A bright smile lit up her soft features. "And it's the best feeling in the world, I promise."
"The difference," he mumbles after a pause, "is you were insane through no fault of your own. I was selfish."
A grin breaks out on her face and she looks at him. "We Everafters love to think we are so different, so much better than humans. But we're not. We are so human, we are selfish, prejudiced, and imperfect. We make mistakes. You can't live centuries and never make a single mistake. Trust me, the Grimms will forgive you regardless."
He's quiet for a beat, mulling this over, and then he offers a tentative smile of his own. "Thank you, Red. I rather needed to hear that."
They sit in the silence enjoying each other's company, when it occurs to Pinocchio that it is much too early for any sensible human being to be awake.
"Why are you awake, if you don't mind me asking?" He questioned suddenly, looking over at the serene girl.
Her eyes open and she beams at him, the smile rising slowly, lighting up her face. "I remembered. My name, my real name. No one in the world knew it, not even me, but I remembered in a dream."
"Then Red was- ,"
"Just a nickname, because of the hair and the cape." She finishes, tossing her dark red locks over the shoulder of her red sweatshirt.
He goes silent, knowing that this is something very private she'll want to share with someone she loves. He's startled when she opens her mouth, because in that split second, he knows he will be the first person to know her name in centuries.
"It's Alexandra." She says, with the taste of savouring a sweet. Stars gleam in those subtle blue eyes and she seems to envelope herself in the name.
"Alexandra." He repeats, like it's a prayer, a promise. "That's beautiful."
She turns to him with true bliss written all over her face. "Isn't it?"
And he knows he will never call her Alex or Alexa or any other kind of absurd nickname because she is a queen, sitting here on her porch swing like it's a throne, and holding her chin high. And Alexandra is a name fit for a queen.
Something in her face turns wistful and sorrowful and she lets out a breath.
"My mother used to call me that. 'Alexandra Rose' she used to shout, 'get down here, young lady'." A quiet laugh that trembles on the edge of a sob spills from her lips. "I heard that last night in my dream. I can't remember her name. I can't even remember my father."
"But you remember your name. That's a start." He supplies in as close to comfortingly as he could get.
She takes in a deep breath and exhales with that relaxed smile on her face and she nods.
"It is, isn't it?"
She is quiet, something about her is just so silent. Her voice hardly above a whisper, her shy stare, her soft smiles, everything is near soundless. But at the same time she draws him in, like an invisible magnetism. When she does speak, she does it with purpose. Conserving her wisdom, then distributing them like tiny teardrops of diamonds. Gifting them to people in need.
The sun chooses that moment to finally peek above the tree line so many miles away and flare blindingly into their eyes. It causes tears to spring into Pinocchio's eyes but he doesn't flinch, simply gazes into the golden brightness with half-lidded eyes and breathes.
Alexandra looks over at him, her eyes alight with morning glow, and his heart trips in his chest, probably over the lump in his throat.
"It's a start."
.
.
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And cue the HSM soundtrack! Hey guys sorry it's been a while had a bit of writers block for this fandom. I just counted, and it looks as though I've got twenty four different fics in progress right now, so bear with me please.
Alexandra. Yes I've named her. And she'll always be Red in our hearts but c'mon, who actually names their kid Red? The name Alexandra lodged itself in my brain and then burrowed in so I couldn't get rid of it. Thus, Alexandra.
Anyway, review please, I love you all very very much, and I hope this makes you smile.