I do not own Once Upon a Time.
Thanks again Kedi for being my awesome Beta.
Enjoy the chapter!
Henry dashed across the street, finally leaving downtown Storybrooke behind for the residential area. Pleasant looking houses lined the winding streets. Green grass and quaint, little gardens surrounded by miniature fences ran along the walkway. The occasional garden gnome smiled from behind bushes and flower beds. It was the picture of a friendly neighborhood. Slowing to a walk, the boy hopped onto the sidewalk and turned toward the distant woods and Dr. Hopper's home.
"You can come out now, Archie." Henry called back as he tugged the hood open.
Dr. Hopper clambered out of the hood with a grateful sigh. Leaning forward against the back of Henry's shoulder, he put a hand on his head, "I never knew one could get so motion sick in a hoodie." After a pause, he laughed, "I didn't know crickets could get motion sick." He shook his head cheerfully as he clambered up to stand on the boy's shoulder, "This is all very new to me."
"I don't think so. You just gotta –" Henry grinned mischievously and twisted around, robbing his psychiatrist of his perch. Archie yelped in surprise as he fell back, instinctively spreading his wings and catching himself in the air.
"Ha! See? It really isn't new to you." Henry corrected, walking backwards and beaming at the hovering cricket, "I guess it's like riding a bike. I mean, look at you! You haven't been a cricket again for a day and you're flying like a natural."
"I-I suppose you're right," Archie agreed and looked back at his fluttering wings. It wasn't completely foreign to him. It should have unnerved him – this whole impossible experience – but it was strangely exciting. Dr. Hopper smiled to himself; Henry's argument certainly seemed convincing now…
"I wonder how fast you can fly," Henry thought aloud, grabbing the straps of his backpack. Looking down the street, he spotted the doctor's modest home tucked away at the edge of the wood. "Race you!" he shouted and bolted down the sidewalk.
"Um, Henry… Henry!" Archie sputtered, suddenly feeling vulnerable without the boy. The cricket flew after Henry as fast as his wings would carry him, "Don't – don't run near the road," he finished weakly.
"Come on, slow poke!" Henry called to Dr. Hopper as he reached the front porch. He took off his backpack and put it on the rocking chair, smiling as Archie landed less than gracefully on the porch railing. The cricket put a hand to his chest, trying to catch his breath, and looked up at the house. It was strange. He'd only been human the night before. If he'd known he would turn into a cricket the next morning he probably would have taken the time to water his plants. The psychiatrist-turned-cricket nearly laughed at himself. Of all things he could have done if he had known and he was worried about his plants. At least he had made sure to lock up before leaving for his office – Ah, he realized, that could be a problem. Just as Archie went to mention the locked door, Henry twisted on the knob in vain. The boy deflated and turned to Dr. Hopper.
"You wouldn't happen to have the keys on you?" Henry asked, scrunching his nose in obvious understanding that it was unlikely Archie would have said keys, seeing as that they were probably half his size.
"Well," Archie shook his head, "I put them in my pant pocket last night, but…" he shifted back and forth on his twig-like legs and joked, "I guess crickets don't need pants."
Henry nodded once and went to the window by the door. Archie joined him, landing on the windowsill with a soft tap.
"What exactly are we looking for?" Dr. Hopper asked as Henry looked into the darkened house. Henry cupped his face in his hands, squinting as he peered into Archie's living room.
"Hm," The boy backed away from the window and crossed his arms in thought, "I thought I would know it when I saw it…" he mumbled. Shaking his head, Henry glanced at his cricket therapist, "There's no magic in Storybrooke, at least there isn't supposed to be. I thought you could have run into fairy dust or something like that. I mean, wishes don't just come true here. Fairy dust is one way to help grant a wish," He looked into the window again before abandoning it with a sigh, "but I've never actually seen fairy dust. The only person who might have some would be the Evil Queen. But I guess if she had some, she wouldn't show me."
Dr. Hopper froze. He'd completely forgotten. Henry claimed his adoptive mother, Regina Mills, and mayor of Storybrooke was the Evil Queen from the story of Snow White. Henry had told him over and over that it was the Evil Queen who put the curse on all of them, himself included. And if he was right about the curse –
"Come on, Archie." Henry broke the cricket's line of thought. He retrieved his backpack from the rocking chair and hopped off of the porch, "We can look for clues where you made your wish."
"Henry!" Dr. Hopper took to the air, zipping around to hover in front of Henry's face, "Regina, your mother, she's the Evil Queen?"
Nodding, Henry shrugged nonchalantly and raised his cupped hands. Archie dropped onto them. Trying desperately not to fidget with his own hands he looked up into the boy's face.
"I-I can't help but feel concerned for you…" The cricket's wings fluttered nervously with a dry hum. What was he supposed to think? What was he supposed to do? "If-if she really is as powerful as you claim she is –"
"Was." Henry corrected. He put on a confident smile, "The Queen can't use magic here and she has to keep pretending she's just the mayor. The only real power she has she got because people are afraid of her. I think that's a side effect of the curse too," the boy stated easily, nose scrunched up in thought.
"But – and I really don't mean to put you against your mother, uh, adoptive mother; that would be wrong of me – but I want to make sure you are going to be safe." Archie explained, his voice becoming an urgent whisper.
"What can she do? Ground me?" Henry asked with a dismissive shake of his head. He dropped his hands, letting Dr. Hopper fly to his shoulder, and made his way back to the sidewalk. "Trust me. The Evil Queen won't do anything that would blow her cover. She wouldn't take that risk. She already knows I'm on to her, and that's why she's sending me to you." He smiled mischievously, "I bet she'd never expect it to backfire like this."
Dr. Hopper nodded, still unsure but there was nothing more to be said. He knew Regina – the mayor of Storybrooke side of her – well enough to know she cared fiercely for her son even if she was strict - almost distant - with him. Though, Henry's Evil Queen theory made it quite clear why she had ordered the therapist to drive the fairytales from her son's mind. All the pieces seemed to fit together so well now.
"Okay," Archie's antennae twitched forward in thought, "Just – if anything changes – I want you to know that I am here if you need any guidance or support." He bent and patted Henry's shoulder, hoping the gesture was still just as supportive regardless of his size.
Henry beamed, "Here to guide me? You're sounding more and more like Jiminy Cricket."
"Am I?" Archie asked. He chuckled, "I guess it comes with the territory. Oh, speaking of which, I made the wish just there," he pointed to the spot on the road near the clearing.
"By the bench?" Henry asked, squinting as he stepped out of the shade of trees.
"Yes," Archie looked around, the clearing appeared so different in the light of midday. The long grass seemed dry and stiff. Dust danced on the edge of shadows. The shimmer of insect wings hovered over the stalks. It all seemed to hold an ordinary kind of magic. Was this how Henry saw the world? Magic hiding away in little clearings? Fairytale characters trapped behind the familiar face of a neighbor? Dr. Hopper glanced up at his young companion. The smile plastered on the Henry's face was brighter than any he'd seen on the boy in quite some time.
"Stay here a second. Okay, Archie?" Henry shrugged off his backpack and put in on the side of the road, "I'm gonna take a look around."
Dr. Hopper nodded absently, gently lowering himself onto the top of the discarded bag.
Looking around, it was hard to tell this was the same clearing he had passed on so many walks with Pongo. The height difference was certainly the most glaring factor, but there was so much more. A type of familiarity that stirred up... not memories, but a kind of nostalgia. Again that unexplainable urge to walk through the trees pulled at the back of Dr. Hopper's mind. So many of these inexplicable occurrences and so-called coincidences started popping up the day Henry brought his birth mother to Storybrooke, and Dr. Hopper finally had to chance to know why. Really know why. Archie looked up at the boy who was stumbling around the long grass, picking up rocks, and checking around stumps. Henry, the boy with the fairytales and all the answers.
"Henry," Dr. Hopper called, still somewhat lost in thought, "I never asked you about what Jiminy-what I was like before the curse. I can't help but be curious…" Archie paused and lifted back into the air, "You said I wasn't always a cricket or a conscience. What or who was I before?"
The boy looked up from his search in the long grass with a grin. Walking over, he picked up his backpack, laid it on the nearby bench, and sat down.
"I was wondering when you'd ask." Henry removed the large, leather bound book from his bag and placed it on his lap. He beckoned the cricket with a wave, then paused, his hand still on the cover, "Are you sure you're ready? I mean, these stories aren't like the ones in the movies. Bad things happen to good people, and sometimes it can't be fixed with a happily ever after. Your story is no exception."
Dr. Hopper fluttered up to the head of the bench and looked over Henry's shoulder to the book. Patting Henry's back, he nodded, "I want to know."
"Okay. Short version first," Henry opened the book. After a few pages turned, the boy began, "Before you were Jiminy Cricket, you were Jiminy the son of traveling puppeteers and con-men. They made you help steal for them." Skipping a few pages, Henry pointed to an illustration of a dark room and a scaly man holding out a gold thread, "You didn't want to live like that, but you couldn't get away. You kind of made a deal with Rumpelstiltskin." Henry grimaced, "He gave you a potion to poison your parents –"
"Poison my parents?" Archie exclaimed in distress. While he did not remember the people who were Jiminy's parents or the kind of life he had, he could not believe he would ever kill anyone. That was against everything he stood for! He leaned against the boy's shoulder for support as he recovered from the shock. The cricket found himself suddenly lifted into the air and placed on Henry's knee.
"I told you, it took a long time for you to figure out the right thing to do," Henry reminded him softly before continuing, "Besides, you didn't kill your parents. You, uh," he flipped another page, "You accidentally gave the poison to Geppetto's parents. They sort of turned into puppets… Sorry."
"Geppetto? You-you mean Marco?" Archie jumped up on the book and looked down at the illustration.
"Yeah, he was my age. See? He's the boy." Henry tapped the image of a child standing in a cabin's doorway.
"That's impossible," Archie shook his head, looking down at the image of the brown-eyed boy, "I could never do that to – and Marco, he's-well, he's nearly old enough to be my father."
"Emma thought so too. But no, you see, the Blue Fairy gave you a chance to help Geppetto growing up. You wished to be a cricket and his conscience. Then you were Pinocchio's conscience. I guess you never aged." Henry bit his lip in thought, "You're probably twenty years older than Geppetto, er, Marco. Then time was frozen here for twenty-eight years… I think that makes you a little over one hundred years old."
Dr. Hopper suddenly felt weak in the knees and would have fallen back if Henry hadn't held out a finger for support.
"Thank you," Archie mumbled as he steadied himself again. Blowing out a long breath, he brushed his hand against the back of his head. "Is that-is that all?"
"Not really, but it gets better." Henry admitted with a hopeful smile. "You helped Snow White and Prince Charming a few times before they were married and then had your own spot in their Small Council. See? Granny and Red Riding Hood. Geppetto. Doc and Grumpy. The Blue Fairy. And there's you," Henry pointed each person out around the table and tapped the image of a cricket in a top hat last, "Everyone from the stories sat around their round table."
"Ha! I suppose King Arthur was there as well then?" Archie joked. Goodness, who else had Jiminy met?
"King Arthur wasn't the only one with a round table. He just has the famous one," Henry stated seriously.
"Of course," Dr. Hopper nodded with a chuckle and jumped off of the book and onto the bench, pacing lightly.
After a pause, Henry prodded the cricket's back, "I know this is a lot to take in, but you were a pretty big deal before the curse. You were kind of the go-to guy for advice being a conscience and all."
"Yes, yes – just," Dr. Hopper turned back to Henry, shaking his head with a heavy laugh, "Gee wiz, this is a lot to take in."
"Tell me about it," Henry nodded in understanding, "I'm just glad you don't think we're both crazy."
The sun shone brightly down on the bench, illuminating the illustrations of the still open book. A round table in a council room fit for a king. A woman in white seated next to a man in royal garb. Others of different size, shape, and color sat with them. A small bright green figure stood on the edge of the table with his arms raised as he talked into the end of a brass horn. A breeze lifted the corner of the page; Henry flattened it with a thumb and waited quietly for his psychiatrist - no - friend to speak.
A car passed and seemed to startle the man-turned-cricket out of his thoughts.
"How very normal," Dr. Hopper chuckled to himself as he watch the SUV disappear around a curve back toward downtown Storybrooke. Archie had seen so many take that same left turn back into the center of Storybrooke; not once could he recall someone taking that right turn toward the highway. Not one person. The cricket nodded to himself, as if coming to a decision.
Turning back to the boy, he realized how natural this felt. He no longer struggled with his strange, new shape - not that it was strange or new according to Henry. The difference in size did not bother him as it had at first. The very idea that he was someone else, a person he'd been forced to forget and forsake, still troubled him; this did not mean it would keep him from doing what he was good at. Sure, he may not remember being a conscience, but he was a fairly decent psychiatrist. Psychiatrists were meant to listen, and, boy, was he listening now! Excitement rolled within his small form, and Dr. Hopper shivered at the happy twitch that developed in his antennae.
"I have to say, Henry, I'm... I'm glad this happened. Becoming a cricket has changed, well, everything." Archie admitted, looking at his young patient in wonder. "What you said in the mine – that this couldn't be all there is – you were right. You've always said we couldn't leave Storybrooke and-and I didn't believe that before. Now… well, I think it's safe to say that I'm convinced."
Henry jumped off the bench, shoving the fairytale book to the side, and asked with some hesitation, "And that you are Jiminy Cricket? Do you believe that too?"
"You know," Archie scratched the spot behind his right antenna with a small laugh, "as strange as it is, I do." He beamed up at Henry, feeling light as a feather as his wings carried him into the air. "I may still not be able to remember, but somehow you have these stories – my story, all of our stories – and-and considering everything else, that's enough for me now."
Suddenly, Dr. Hopper found himself scooped out of the air and nearly crushed against the boy's chest in a giant hug. Henry plopped down on the sidewalk's edge and lay back against the grass, finally letting his arms fall to his sides and releasing the pinned cricket.
"You," Henry began with barking laughter, "have no idea how glad I am to hear that."
Archie chuckled as he sat up and looked down at the boy's face. Henry lay back, eyes closed against the bright sunlight. A light smile lingered there, perfectly content in its place. Henry's chest rose and fell in even, gentle breaths. Dr. Hopper shook his head, sharing in Henry's bliss, And you have no idea how grateful I am to be here for you now. Completely here for you.
It feels great to be writing again. Thank you for your patience.