Storybrooke Present Day
"At least we have each other." Mary-Margaret said in a falsely forced chirper voice as she sat beside Rowan in the Storybrooke School's cafeteria. Rowan was dressed in an oversized sweatshirt and the school's khaki's in an semi-futile attempt in hiding her slightly baby bump.
In the last few days Mary-Margaret and David Nolan's affair had circulated around Storybrooke in a rapid frenzy. People began to stop casting her dirty looks or whispered in her presence but rather did it in the presence of Mary-Margaret. For a moment it seemed the town forgot its teenage pregnant girl.
"We're a real motley crew. Two social pariahs," Rowan mumbled.
Mary-Margaret's forced half-grin immediately dropped from her face. Her shoulders slouched and she pinched her temples heaving in a few deep breathes. Rowan wondered for a moment if she'd cry or faint.
"I have to do something to get people to stop hating me," she whimpered.
"Why are you asking me?" Rowan challenged standing to throw out her half-eaten bologna sand which.
Fairytale Land
"But giants have been extinct for a very long time," Rose argued, "they are no beans left."
She was sitting on a rather large tree branch her knees curled up to her chest and her hair was matted with dirt and grime and left in a knotted bunch. She'd long ago given up on attempting raking her fingers through it. The knots were endless and nearly impossible to untangle. You have such beautiful hair Rosie why you let it get so tangled is a mystery to me. Snow would always say as she gently and tenderly ran a hair brush throughout her hair.
"Well the giants might be gone but there are definitely beans," Peter muttered from above her. He was perched on one of the highest branches staring intently at the night sky, his eyes fixated on the third star to the right, "my father required a bean the day my mother was killed when the beast killed my mother."
"The beast?" Rose scrunched her face up. Her mother was most certainly not a beast of any sorts.
"Rumpelstiltskin," he hissed out.
"If Rumpelstiltskin killed your mother why did you lie to me?" Rose demanded angrily glaring up at him.
If her tone affected him at all he didn't show it, "he killed my real mother. Wendy was the woman who cared for me from when I was four until a few years ago. She was the mother I really remember….,"
Rose was quiet for a long moment before she hesitantly asked, "what do you remember of your real Mom?"
"I remember her death," Peter deadpanned, "enough now."
Storybrooke Present Day
"Hey I was trying to get your attention!" a voice said as a hand gripped her shoulder and turned her around.
She hadn't heard anyone or anything. Her main focus was to get back to the Mills Mansion without facing or acknowledging anyone. She'd taken a detour on some back-roads of Storybrooke that were in desperate need of some repairs. It'd been the routine for the last month and a half.
"Were you following me?" Rowan inquired holding her books closer to her chest.
His face blanked for a moment his eyes glancing sideways before he sheepishly grinned guilty and rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably as his cheeks flushed red. He stammered out something incoherent.
"Just to let you know following people is kind of creepy."
"Well I don't see you at the store anymore or at school you avoid social interaction with everyone you left me with no choice at all."
"Ever heard of a telephone? You know Alexander Graham Bell made one in the like 1901."
"Actually it was 1876."
Rowan gave him her best "are-you-kidding-look?" she could muster. She shifted her book bag on her shoulder. One of the straps had long ago had broken and the one shoulder strap was killing her left shoulder.
"Here let me get that for you," he reached his hand out to grab for the bag but she slapped it away. He jerked back and retaliation.
"What the hell was that for?"
"I'm not weak…..I'm just…I'm just…," no matter how hard she willed herself to say it the word refused to formulate in her mouth.
"Pregnant?"
The word felt wrong, dirty. Especially when he acknowledged it, no one aside from Dr. Whale had acknowledged her present condition. Regina kind of skirted around the topic. She hadn't spoken to Millie or Dale in nearly three weeks. And everyone else in town never muttered the word whilst thinking they were whispering discreetly. Rather they said whore, slut or knocked up. Never pregnant.
"Ro….," and the rest of his sentence came out in a jumbled blur.
There was an odd sense of déjà vu. He flashed from being Dylan dressed in Storybrooke school's tacky uniform into something else dressed in raggedy tagged clothing. His face caked in mud and grime, a knife in one of his hands.
"Are you ok?" Dylan asked waving his hand in front of her face.
"I'm so sorry I just faded out for a moment," Rowan said, "I have to go."
A/N: Hope you're still enjoying.
