Chapter 9: Start the Spark
Henry could not believe his eyes. It's Violet Morgan… the daughter of Sir Morgan, one of King Arthur's Knights of the Round Table and his girlfriend. A girl he had fallen in love with and had been dating up until everything went to hell. Now it seems that she doesn't recognize him at all and become the darkest version of herself. Wipe away the scowl, attitude, and overall darkness and edginess of her appearance and you'd have the sweet, happy, and loving Violet.
She blows smoke out of her mouth and glares at the kid who is supposed to be her boyfriend.
"How do you know my name?" she snaps. Her voice sounded cold, emotionless, and gruff, most likely because of the smoking.
"It's me, Henry, don't you remember?" he asks.
"If I did remember someone named Henry, I'd tell the moron that my name is Vee, not Violet."
"Vee?" Henry says in confusion. "You mean like the letter V?"
"You got a problem with my name?!" she barks. She squashes the cigarette under her combat boot and steps forward with her hands raised, she's about to collar him.
The young author immediately steps back, not wanting to be thrown up against another wall in less than a few hours.
"N-No… it's just… you always liked Violet as a name, it's really pretty…"
"Pretty?" she says flatly. "Buddy, I'm far from pretty."
Henry is hurt, deeply hurt that Violet doesn't remember who he is. She's the first girl he'd ever kissed, the first girl whom he'd really made a connection with, the first person whom he trusted outside of his Storybrooke family. All those memories they shared; listening to his iPod, talking about music by the jukebox, horseback riding, watching movies together, their journey to destroy magic… everything that they've been through is gone, wiped away in the curse's puff of smoke.
"No, you're more than pretty, you're beautiful," he blurts out.
Violet's brown eyes lock with his hazel ones. For a very brief second, he thinks he can see her blush at the compliment; her hardened personae softens and for just a split second, the real Violet shines through again. She gives him a raised eyebrow and a small smirk. She then goes into her black backpack and lights herself another cigarette.
The young author wants desperately to convince Violet of who she really was; that she was the daughter of a knight from King Arthur's court, they rode horses together, she once had her heart stolen by his Dark One mother to break his own heart, she was swept up in a curse that brought her to the modern world, she journeyed with him to New York City to try and destroy magic and magically helped him bring his family back to him by using a wishing well. He wants to say all of this, but like his mom, like his grandfather, like Archie and no doubt, everyone else who once lived in Storybrooke would never believe him. He knows he can't be preaching his beliefs again, it would isolate him, and no one would help break this curse. He knew that if he said this, she'd just call him crazy or a freak and runoff. He needs someone, anyone that he can be close to, even if they cannot remember him.
"Maybe on the outside, but on the inside, I've got some damage," she shrugs. She does a long drag of her cigarette and tries to go back to minding her own business, but Henry keeps staring at her. "Are you some kind of stalker or whatever?" she asks bluntly, letting some smoke blow into his face.
"N-No, why do you say that?"
"Because you keep on staring at me and you followed me through the hole in the wall."
"I was really only trying to investigate why you were going into the boys' bathroom," he says in an almost equally blunt voice.
"Well now you know," she mutters sarcastically. "It's the only place anyone could get some peace and quiet, a place to escape until you showed up that is."
"The truth is, I was looking for a way to escape too."
"Wait, aren't you the mayor's kid?" Violet asks. "Henry Blackwell?"
"Mills," he corrects pretty harshly. There was no way that he was taking his cursed grandmother's name. "My name is Henry Mills."
"So, now who's sensitive about names," she smirks.
"Sorry, I just don't like being associated with someone I don't like."
"Welcome to the club."
"Wait, I thought your last name is Morgan?"
"How do you know so much about me?" she says eyeing him suspiciously.
Because I've known for over a year now, he thinks to himself. His mind races to find some sort of excuse that didn't make him seem more like a stalker.
"Uh… student directory," he finally manages to say.
"Well, that's just the name the state gave me, how unoriginal."
"The state?"
"Yeah… both my parents are dead… both in separate car crashes. I don't have a last name that will stick. I've been in the system since I was six."
The system. Henry knew those words all too well. His stomach twists hard; he remembers his mom always talking about the foster system and how it made her so guarded and mistrusting of other people. How she found a family but was given back when she was three because the parents had a child of their own, how she'd ended up in a foster home with Ingrid the Ice Queen, only to be picked on by the other kids and have the queen force her into oncoming traffic to try and awaken her powers, how another family kicked her out because Lily stole from them, and how she'd been homeless and basically given up on ever finding a stable life, which caused her to resort to crime and eventually meet his dad, Neal. He himself had been in it too but had been lucky enough for Regina to adopt him and he was given the life he'd deserved at the time. He cannot believe that his grandmother put these memories into his girlfriend's head! Was she as broken and as mistrusting as his mother had been? It seems that way at this point and this hurt him.
His heart went out to her and he could feel tears coming to his eyes. He wants to tell her that it's not true, that her father is alive and he was somewhere in this city like everyone else, but again, that would make him sound crazy. He wishes beyond everything that he could simply fix all of this with a kiss, make her remember everything, but love, even true love cannot be brought about if one partner does not remember the other. This is not the Violet he wants, and she doesn't deserve this life she's been given.
"That sucks," he says as best he can to try and connect with her some way.
"Yay, it does," she says grimly. She extinguishes her latest cigarette and then scoops up her backpack. Henry then notices a helmet dangling from the end of it. He begins to panic when he realizes that she's about to leave.
"The helmet!" he gasps.
"The what?"
"The helmet, what's the helmet for?"
"My bike," the girl says. "Would you like to see him?"
Henry, unsure about how to do this, simply follows her with a nod.
The two students end up climbing over a chain-link fence to get into the parking lot. They walk through the cars until they get to a lamp post, where a black and purple motorcycle is leaning against it.
It's an impressive piece of machinery, even if Henry knew nothing about motorcycles. There were leather studs on the seats, some stickers stuck to certain places, and the wheels' spokes are painted a dark shiny purple to go with her namesake.
"Isn't he a beauty?" she asks, fishing for a compliment.
"Y-Yeah he is,"
"He's a 1965 Mustang, one of the last of its kind. His name is Nico, short for Nicodemus,"
Henry's heart drops when he hears the name, that was the name of her horse! The one she'd always ride, the one given to her by her mother when she was seven before she passed away, and the one that loved pumpkin. It gives the teenager some hope and reassurance that there's still a bit of the old Violet inside.
She puts her helmet on over her streaked hair. She then looks at him.
"You ride?"
Bicycles and horses sure, he thinks to himself. He had ridden a motorcycle before, in fact, August had been teaching him how, but he was still relatively new at it.
"Uh yeah, an old friend was teaching me how…"
She looks at him for a moment, as if thinking about what to say next. The connection between them was so much different now. She didn't seem to like him, probably thought that he was a nerd or some kind of stalker because he'd followed her and knew her name. "You want to blow this popsicle stand, Henry Mills?"
His heart flutters with excitement. On the inside, he's overjoyed that he can still form a relationship with the girl he was falling in love with, despite how different she is because of the curse. It was almost like her own Dark One makeover. She is much edgier and even scarier than he ever anticipated… Henry begins to convince himself that he needs to break the curse, and while a joy ride with Violet was far from helping, but getting to know her again, maybe finding that spark again and helping her believe in hope could help. Someway, somehow it could show that love was still there and that his grandmother had not succeeded in severing all her grandson's ties to those he loved.
"Sure," he says.
Violet reaches into a bag on the side of her motorcycle and tosses him an extra helmet. Once it's on, Henry slides up against her on the seat. His face burns to be so close to her again, but fortunately, the helmet concealed this, and his heart is threatening to break his ribcage with excitement. He awkwardly grabs her waist, she looks at him for a second but then shrugs it off.
She starts up the engine with a loud rev and the two teenagers tear their way out of the parking lot, and onto the busy streets. Henry's stomach turns several times as the adrenaline pumps through his blood. He holds on very tightly to Violet's waist now, but she just ignores how close they've become as they go off to wherever the felt like it.