Morgan takes a tumble and it's kinda sorta Henry's fault.


"Henry, slow down! I'm getting dizzy!" Morgan giggles from her oldest brother's back.

"What, you can't handle it?" Henry teases, giving her an extra hard bounce that has her sandy blonde curls flying everywhere.

"I'm gonna throw up!" she laughs, arms tightening around his neck.

"If you do, it better be on Roland's head and not mine," Henry warns, shooting their brother a smirk.

Roland scowls. "Don't even think about it!"

"I won't throw up," Morgan promises, hitching herself higher up on Henry's back. "If I throw up, I won't get to eat ice cream."

"That's okay. I can eat yours for you," Roland graciously volunteers, earning himself a swat on the back of the head from Henry.

"Don't worry, caterpillar, I'll protect your ice cream for you," Henry vows overdramatically, bending forward until his nose nearly touches his knees.

"Henry, stop! I'm gonna fall!" Morgan squeals, her grip around his neck so tight it nearly chokes him.

"Alright, alright," Henry relents, standing up straight. "I'll go normal now." They're walking to Granny's for an afternoon snack, Henry's treat since he recently started earning a paycheck at the library. Belle had practically begged him to start working there- she was so overwhelmed with manning both Gold's shop and the library. He's never seen his mother agree to something so quickly. It's a perfect job for you, Henry, she had said. It'll teach you responsibility. What she really meant was that it would keep him away from Violet after school. Not that Mom didn't like his girlfriend, but she had caught them snogging one too many times in the school parking lot and so she was eager to keep them apart for a bit.

"Henry, you should have seen Ryan Baker's face today when I told him you beat Patrick for a spot on the baseball team," Roland exclaims, turning to his brother with a smug grin. "He was so mad."

"Did you tell him he should expect the same from you when you try out for football in the summer?"

"No, but I wish I did. That would have gotten him really mad," Roland replies with a wicked chuckle.

"Those darn Baker boys," Morgan sighs exasperatedly.

Henry smiles at his sister's annoyance on their behalf. She doesn't know any of the Bakers, but she's heard him and Roland complain about them enough to know they are not her brothers' favorite people. Henry's had a rivalry with Patrick going back to the fifth grade, a feud which created a mutual dislike between Roland and Ryan when they ended up in the same class. The Baker boys never hesitate in trying to outdo the Mills-Locksley boys and it's become a running joke in their household, something Morgan doesn't really understand but finds funny all the same.

"The Bakers don't have a sister, do they?" Morgan asks and Henry can practically see her nose scrunch up in disgust.

"Nope, just Patrick and Ryan, but I think there might be another brother who's way older than us," Henry answers as they round the corner of Main Street.

"Good. Well, good for their not-sister," Morgan declares.

"Why's that?" Roland asks.

"Because if there was a sister and she was in my class, I'd have to beat her up," Morgan explains as if it were obvious.

"Why?"

"Because she's a Baker, Henry. Mills and Locksleys don't like Bakers."

"Well, just because she's a Baker doesn't mean you couldn't be friends with her," Henry suggests. He feels Morgan shake her head, blonde curls tickling his neck.

"That's not how it works, Henry. I could never be friends with someone who has rotten brothers."

"Well, you certainly don't have to beat her up."

Morgan giggles. "Henry, she's not real, remember?"

Henry smiles and shakes his head. "Of course, how could I forget?" he teases, bouncing his sister up and down again, drawing out another giggle. He turns his head to the side so he can partially see her face. "Who gives better piggyback rides, me or Daddy?" He can feel her face widen with a smile against his head.

"Daddy," she answers playfully.

"What? I refuse to believe that," Henry argues, feigning offense.

"It's true!"

"Well, we'll see about that," Henry declares, bouncing her up and down over and over as he walks until her giggles sound like vibrations. He switches then and starts swinging her side to side, realizing how much he likes her laugh. It's always so full-hearted and gleeful. It reminds him of when Roland was this young and laughed at nearly-

"Henry, watch out!" Roland yells and suddenly the world is turning upside down as Henry trips over the edge of the curb, falling right onto the street. He manages to get his arms out in time to stop himself from hitting face-first, but the stinging on his palms is nothing compared to the panic he feels when he realizes there's not a sister-sized weight on his back anymore.

"Morgan!" he shouts, head snapping up to see the little girl sprawled a few feet beside him, Roland rushing to her side.

"Are you okay?" Roland asks frantically, helping her sit up. There's a brush burn on her forehead, Henry notes as he crawls over to them. Please let that be the only injury, he pleads silently.

"My wrist hurts," Morgan whimpers, clutching her arm to her chest. Not so lucky then, Henry thinks grimly Her bottom lip startles to tremble fiercely and shit, Henry knows that look. It's almost a carbon copy of Roland's at this age.

"Can I see it?" he asks, tentatively reaching out toward her. She shakes her head and holds her wrist closer to her chest. "Morgan, I need to make sure it's not broken."

"No, you'll make it hurt more!"

Henry sucks in a breath. He hopes to high heaven it's not broken. Mom is going to kick his ass if it is. The look on Roland's face tells him he's thinking the same thing. "Then, come on. We need to get you home so Mom can look at it." He stands and reaches down to pick her up, but she scoots back. Henry looks at her in confusion. "Morgan, come on, we need to go home."

She shakes her head, tears leaking out of her eyes. "I don't want you to carry me," she argues crossly.

Henry takes a deep breath, trying to ignore how much her comment actually hurt. She thinks he'll drop her again, he guesses. Great, he's really screwed this up. "Morgan, I have to. I promise I won't drop you," he vows, bending down so they're eye-level again.

She eyes him skeptically, tears still rolling down her cheeks.

"Pinky promise," Henry adds, holding up his little finger.

Morgan looks from him to Roland who gives her a reassuring nod. "Pinky promise?" she repeats, tentatively reaching out her hand.

Henry nods. "And you know I never break a pinky promise," he reminds her with a wink.

It takes another moment, but then Morgan's linking her finger with his and Henry relaxes minutely. He reaches in his back pocket for his phone and tosses it to Roland. "Call Mom. Tell her I broke our sister," he orders grimly, scooping Morgan up into his arms and holding her against his chest. She presses her face against him and starts crying in earnest, holding her wrist tightly to her chest. "It hurts," she blubbers, tears soaking into the fabric of Henry's shirt.

"It'll be alright, caterpillar," he assures as they start walking back home at a quicker pace than before. "It'll be alright. I promise."


Needless to say, Mom is on the verge of panic by the time they get home. Roland doesn't even have time to fish his house key out of his bookbag before she's yanking the front door open, arms outstretched toward her daughter. "Come here, baby," she says gently, taking Morgan from Henry's arms and resting her on her hip.

"It hurts, Mommy," she cries, sniffling and hiccupping from all her tears, cheek pressed against her mother's shoulder.

"I know it does, sweetheart, I know," Mom coos, combing her fingers through curly blonde locks. "We'll take you to the doctor and he'll make it better."

"Am I gonna have to get a shot?" Morgan asks fearfully, eyes opening wide.

"No, baby, I don't think so," Mom reassures her, swaying from side to side. She looks down at Roland. "Can you get my purse, Roland? It's on the kitchen table."

"Yeah, no problem," the nine-year-old agrees, sliding past mother and child into the house.

Henry takes a step into the house and closes the door behind him, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Mom," he apologizes. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

She purses her lips and Henry knows she's upset, but there doesn't appear to be anger clouding her eyes, so that's certainly a good sign. "Yes, Roland filled me in on the phone," she replies shortly.

"I, uh, was trying to prove to Morgan that I give better piggyback rides than Robin."

"Well, I think we know who won that contest," Mom retorts, placing a kiss on Morgan's forehead. "You're lucky there weren't any cars in the street, Henry. This could have been much more than a broken wrist."

Henry winces, not wanting to entertain the thought. "Yeah, I know. I'll be more careful next time."

"No! I don't want you giving me a piggyback ride ever again!" Morgan cries, head popping up from their mother's shoulder.

Henry sighs and feels his shoulders deflate. Mom may not be mad at him, but his sister sure is. He can't really blame her, though. He did send her careening off a curb. Still, it hurts more than it should knowing she's angry with him. A five-year-old's anger is usually short lived and Morgan is the happiest kid on the planet, but this is something new. He hopes he didn't screw them up permanently.

"Morgan, don't get mad at Henry," Mom admonishes as Roland comes back with her purse. "It was an accident." She slings her bag onto her free shoulder and adjusts Morgan on her hip. "I'm going to take her to the ER. Could one of you call your father and let him know where we'll be?"

"Mommy, it hurts," Morgan cries again with emphasis.

"I know, baby, I know. Henry, can you get an ice pack from the freezer?" Mom asks, fishing her car keys out of her purse.

He nods and starts trekking toward the kitchen, feeling like absolute shit and the worst brother on the planet. Maybe he should let Roland handle the brother stuff from now on. At least he wouldn't break their sister.


He's in the kitchen cleaning up from dinner (mac and cheese in the blue box, Henry's specialty) when he sees the headlights of Robin's truck pull into the driveway. He feels a sense of dread for whatever reason. Roland had called Robin and told him what happened, so it's not like he has to break the news, but there's something about having to face Robin knowing he hurt his daughter that makes Henry anxious.

"Hey, Papa," he hears Roland greet from the living room after the front door opens.

"Hello, my boy," Robin returns just before he comes into the kitchen.

Henry turns from the sink to see him setting his keys down on the counter. "Hey," he greets, wondering why he feels the need to brace himself.

"Henry," Robin replies with a nod. "How are you?"

He shrugs and looks away. "To be honest, I feel like a piece of shit," he admits, knowing Robin won't fault him for language like his mom would.

"Your mother said you might," Robin sighs. "I suppose telling you it was an accident won't make you feel better?"

Henry shakes his head. "I was being an idiot. It could have been completely avoided."

"Most accidents are," Robin agrees. "That doesn't mean you should blame yourself for it."

"Morgan does."

"Morgan's five. And she was angry because she was hurting. She can't control raw emotions yet. But she thinks the world of you, Henry. One little accident isn't going to change that."

Henry sighs and leans back against the counter. "There could have been cars on that road. If there had been, I don't even want to think about what might've…" He sighs again and meets Robin's eyes. "It could have been so much worse."

Robin nods and crosses his arms. "Yes, you're right, it could have been. But I'm going to tell you something I've told your mother many times. You can't focus on the what ifs or could have beens. You need to focus on the now. And now your sister is on her way home with a bright pink cast on her wrist. Do you know what she said the moment they put it on?"

Henry shakes his head, smiling slightly because of course that was the color she chose.

"She said, 'I can't wait to get home so Henry and Roland can sign my cast,'" Robin continues with a smile. "She still thinks the world of you, broken wrist and all."

Henry takes a deep breath, still not fully convinced he shouldn't feel bad, but secure in knowing Morgan won't hate him forever. As far as little sisters go, he really lucked out. "The feeling's mutual then," he replies, finally allowing himself to smile.

Robin answers with his own grin. "They'll be home in a bit. I suggest you get your signing marker ready." He turns to leave then, but Henry stops him.

"Hey, Dad?" he calls, using the title that he saves for special occasions.

When Robin turns back, he looks a little surprised at Henry's use of the name, but smiles all the same. "Yeah, my boy?"

Henry nods, absorbing the affectionate moniker. "Thanks."

"Anytime, son," Robin assures him before leaving the room.

Henry sucks in a breath and runs his hands over his face. Right. Focus on the now. He needs a marker.


"Aardvark."

"A… r-d-v-a-r-k," Roland spells, laying flat on his back on the floor, legs sticking straight up in the air against the front of the couch.

"Missed a letter," Henry replies, looking over his brother's spelling list while laying on the couch.

"I did?" Roland asks, tilting his head sideways.

"There's two A's in the beginning," Henry explains. "There's a song for this one. It goes A-a-r-d vark," Henry chants, earning himself a bewildered look from the floor.

"Where'd you hear that?"

Henry shrugs. "Kid's show way back when. I've never forgotten how to spell it."

Roland stares at him suspiciously. "You're weird," he decides after a moment.

They're interrupted by the front door opening and Morgan bounding in, curls flying.

"Henry! Roland! Look at my cast!" she cries, holding out her plaster-encased arm. "It's pink! Look how pretty it is!"

"Hey, that's pretty cool, caterpillar," Roland praises, sitting up and tapping gently on the plaster. "The kids at school better watch out. You could KO them with one swing with that thing."

Morgan giggles and jumps onto the couch beside Henry.

"Morgan Locksley, you be careful," Mom admonishes from the foyer. "I am not taking you to the emergency room twice in one day."

"Sorry, Mommy!" Morgan calls before turning back to her eldest brother. "Henry, look! It's all empty so you can sign it! Mommy said both you guys can sign it and so can my class and Aunt Emma and my uncles and Grandma Snow and Grandpa David and Neal, but I don't want Neal to sign it because he'd mess it up. He said he's good at writing but he's not. You should see his N's. They're really bad."

Henry laughs and reaches over to set Morgan on his lap. "Well, I would be honored if I could sign it. That is, of course, if you're not mad at me anymore?"

Morgan smiles and shakes her head. "No, I'm not."

"You're sure?"

She nods emphatically. "Uh huh. I mean, I was, but I'm not anymore. You were just trying to make me laugh. I can't get mad at you for that because then you'd never try to make me laugh again. And I like it when you make me laugh."

Henry smiles and wraps her up in a hug. "Good because I like hearing you laugh."

Roland comes to sit beside them and Henry wraps an arm around him too. "A group hug was not what I had in mind when I sat down," Roland wheezes from underneath Henry's vice grip.

"Hugs make everything better, Roland," Morgan states matter-of-factly.

"Well, I think I'm thoroughly better now," Roland chokes as Henry squeezes him even tighter.

Henry laughs and lets both his siblings go. He reaches into his shirt pocket and pulls out a permanent marker. "Now, I do believe there is a cast that needs signing," he whispers conspiratorially, earning a giggle from Morgan. As he uncaps the marker, he promises to himself that he will always do whatever it takes to hear that sound. And when he draws a very bad star next to his name, he gets a laugh from both Morgan and Roland and a certain part of his heart feels full. Maybe he's got the hang of this brother thing after all.