Up in the sky, lookin' down the night
We are starlight, starlight
Between the moon and the city lights
We are starlight, starlight
Ooh, ooh
Starlight
—Andrew Creighton Dodd, Gannin Duane Arnold, Adam M. Watts, Ahmet Zappa, Shana Zappa, "Starlight" (Reservoir Media Music, Seven Peaks Music, Walt Disney Music Company, Dodd Music, Dying Ego Music, Ganologiks, Star Darlings Music Llc)
Between the Moon and the City Lights
Timeline: Los Angeles 1994, set just after the flashback scene at the beginning of S3E21: Snow Drifts, but before the flashback scenes in S4E5: Breaking Glass. Going by the transcripts at Forever Dreaming, Emma is eleven in the first of those episodes, but fifteen in the second. This story takes place in that four-year gap.
Chapter One
"Thank you for calling Haven House. This is Giselle. How may I help you?" The woman who still wore her long hair in a rainbow of colors and hoped she would continue doing so when she was in her eighties grabbed a pen from her desk and moved the ruled notepad closer as she listened.
"On a bus, uh-huh," she said in an undertone, jotting down what the voice on the other end was saying. "Okay, and has a social worker been assigned yet?" She shook her head sadly. So many runaways came to LA hoping to make it in acting or music or modeling. The luckiest ones either went back home or they ended up in shelters like Haven House. "Well," she said, coaxing a cheerful note into her voice, "we do have space at the moment. When can we expect her? Yes, seven this evening will be fine. Will she have had dinner before she gets here, or should we have something waiting? No, that's no trouble." In Giselle's experience, a hot meal and a sympathetic ear were often the first step toward breaking through the walls of mistrust and fear that so many of these kids built up. On their own, they probably wouldn't be enough, not right away, but in her years of first working at and later running Haven House, she'd learned the importance of patience. She didn't need to know everything on the first night.
"Thank you, Officer. I'll look forward to meeting her."
She hung up the phone and looked at the notes she'd just written on the pad:
Emma Swan. Approx 10–12 yrs. Picked up LA Union terminal. Refuses to give any info beyond name. Aloud, Giselle said, "I guess she hasn't got a rank or serial number." She sighed. Haven House took in many a pre-teen runaway, but most of them were locals. Maybe this Emma was, too. Maybe she'd been trying to find a bus out of town instead of arriving on one. She shook her head. It was no use speculating. Not when she needed to make sure that a hot dinner and a clean bedroom would be both ready and waiting by seven PM. Tonight, she'd introduce herself to the newcomer and do her best to make her feel welcome. There would be time enough to get answers to her questions in the days that would follow. For now, the important thing was to give Emma a chance to catch her breath, relax, and learn that Haven House wasn't just a haven in name. It was a place where runaways could stop running and start rebuilding their lives, and Giselle wanted Emma to realize it.
Her phone rang again. "Thank you for calling Haven House. This is Giselle. How may I help you?" Her eyes widened as she recognized the voice on the other end before its owner introduced herself. "Jerrica?"
Jerrica still couldn't believe this was happening. Jem and the Holograms had disbanded—publicly—following their farewell tour in 1988. Kimber and Aja, together with Stormer and her brother Keith, had gone on to form Kaleidoscope Haze—a band that performed songs a little edgier than Jem might have sung, but a bit mellower than a typical Misfits item. Raya was now pursuing her MBA part-time, while giving drum lessons and occasionally helping out in her father's florist shop. Shana was the costume designer for a regional theater troupe, though she still took some commissions in the off-season. While she…
She didn't know what she wanted out of life, not really. Once upon a time, she thought she had: Rio, her sisters, and a house full of Starlight girls. And then a music career, with her sisters in the band and Rio behind the scenes, but it had all been to keep Starlight House open, keep the girls from getting split up and shunted to new placements. At least, that was how it had been in the beginning. And somewhere, somehow, she'd got caught up in the glamor and glitter, the fashion and fame… and the illusions that Synergy hadn't had a thing to do with creating. The music had been magic, but the magic had come at a cost. A cost she'd eventually realized was too high to keep paying.
So, there had been the farewell tour, the tearful goodbyes, the good wishes for whatever might lie ahead… And the moment when she straightened her shoulders, screwed up her courage, and finally told Rio that she and Jem were the same person.
He hadn't taken it well.
Oh, he hadn't taken it as badly as he had in that nightmare scenario Synergy had concocted. Hadn't accused her of making a fool out of him or told her he hated or despised her. (To be fair, even in that simulation it had been 'deception and lies' that he'd hated, but Jem was her disguise and if she'd kept him in the dark about that part of her life, then what else was she?) No, what he'd really said was, "I need time to process this. Don't… try to call me for a while." She'd taken him at his word. When she'd thought that six months might have been enough time, she'd reached out, only to find the number disconnected. Over the last few years, she'd made some half-hearted attempts to track him down, but they'd never gone anywhere.
Instead, she'd thrown herself into making Starlight House the best foster home for girls in the LA area she could and, thanks to the money she'd made as Jem, plus her ownership of Starlight Music, she thought she might have succeeded.
And then, out of the blue, Riot had reached out. He wanted Jem to headline a concert with him to raise money for Parkinson's Disease research. Two minutes into his pitch, his slick demeanor had fallen away and he'd confessed that his father had recently been diagnosed with the condition.
"I'm so sorry," Jerrica had said.
"I feel like I want to do… something," Riot went on. "I'm no doctor, no scientist… I'm not much of a soldier either, much to Father's chagrin. Music is all I know, so I'm hoping I can use that to help. The Stingers might not exist anymore," he added, "but Jem and I together… I think a lot of people would pay to see that."
"Jem retired after her farewell tour," Jerrica parroted, as she had so many times over the years to so many people. "She never left a forwarding address. I don't think she wants to be found."
"I see," Riot replied heavily. "Well, would you see if you can find out anything? And let me know if you do? This really means a lot to me."
"I understand," Jerrica said, doing her best to tamp down the surge of excitement. Part of her still missed the bright lights. Part of her always would. But she couldn't be Jem and run Starlight Music and run Starlight House. Mrs. Bailey was on-hand to help, but she was getting older and ten foster girls took a lot of care. But this was a worthy cause. And it was just one concert. And maybe a live album. And maybe, if she could bring in some extra help, however temporary… But for now, "Riot? Starlight Music manages other bands, you know. I'll… try to connect with Jem. But suppose I brought in some of our other groups? We have a dozen signed now. Once there's a date for the concert, I can see which bands would be free to perform."
"That… that could work," Riot said hopefully. "Maybe I could track down Minx and Rapture, too."
Five years ago, Jerrica would have left it at that. But she was a bit older now, and a bit wiser, and even they'd been rivals once, they'd also been one of the hottest bands of the decade. Inviting them would be the right thing to do. And it would probably sell more tickets. "I could even ask the Misfits."
"If I can't get Jem…" Riot replied, clearly considering the possibility.
"I don't even know what they're up to these days. Except for Stormer, of course."
"But you'll find out?"
"Yes," Jerrica agreed. "I'll do my best, anyway."
"I'll leave it with you then." But he didn't end the call just yet. "You know, with a live concert, especially if we're all going to perform together, we might need a good choreographer. Do you have anyone you'd recommend?"
Maybe it was just nostalgia talking, but one name immediately sprung to mind. "I think," she said smiling a bit, "I may know just the person."
Ten minutes later, she was on the phone to Haven House to connect with an old friend.
"Reuniting Jem and Holograms," Giselle repeated. "And maybe the Misfits and the Stingers, too?"
"That's the idea," Jerrica said. "I don't know if it'll work. I don't know if I can even find everyone. But it's for a good cause and…"
"And it'll be good to see everyone again," Giselle finished. "I stopped dancing professionally last year, but I still give lessons. The Holograms and the Misfits… your styles were so different. And with the Stingers in the mix… coming up with moves that can synthesize what each band represents… It'll be a challenge."
"Is that a yes or a no?" Jerrica asked.
"It's a… 'Let me think about it'. Give me a day or two. I have an emergency placement arriving in a few hours and I want to make sure I can get her settled in."
"I've had some of those," Jerrica said understandingly. "Let me know if I can help."
"I will," Giselle said. "And you let me know once the bands are confirmed and if I can't take it on, I'll pass you onto some of my colleagues who can."
After she hung up the phone, Giselle opened her desk drawer and pulled out a thick three-ring binder. Flipping through the pages, protected in clear vinyl pockets, she read again the newspaper clippings:
A merry Danse shines in Christmas panto
Dansing the night away
Giselle Dvorak Danses to her own tune
And her friends had thought that making 'Danse' her stage name would be too prosaic! She flipped the page and smiled sadly at the photo. She looked so… young. "Thirty-one isn't old," she told herself fiercely.
If it weren't for an injury she'd sustained during one fateful rehearsal, she'd probably still be dancing professionally even now. But while she'd initially thought she would make a full recovery, the leg had never been quite as strong as it had been before. She'd tried dancing through it and it had worked for a year or so. Then she'd come down wrong on her ankle, ruptured her Achilles tendon, and been told in no uncertain terms that her performing days were over. She could have taught dancing instead. She'd considered it. In the end, though, she'd decided against it. She'd been a volunteer at Haven House since her teens. After she'd finished high school, the administration had offered her a part-time paid position. Dancing might have been her vocation, but when a long space stretched between gigs, it was great to have something steady to pay the bills—especially when it was work you loved. Earning a degree in social work had meant that when a position for a full-time counsellor opened up, she'd been a shoe-in.
A bit wistfully, Giselle put the album away again. There was nothing wrong with a little nostalgia every now and then, but she had a new vocation now. Haven House was her life and had been for almost four years. And she couldn't say she was sorry about it. Even so, the thought of getting back together with Jem and the Holograms did give her a surge of excitement. Jerrica was an old friend. She and Jem had stood by her after that first accident, when she'd been drowning in self-pity and almost given up on walking again. Giselle owed her. Or maybe she did miss dancing just enough to choreograph one last show. Maybe. But tonight was the wrong night to dwell on it. She had other things to deal with that needed to take priority right now.
She left her office, turned, and mounted the stairs to the third floor. She checked the list on the wall, nodding to herself. Kids came and went at Haven House and sometimes, she didn't find out about a new arrival until a day or so later, but it looked as though there were still three vacant rooms available. She walked down the hallway to one of them and turned the knob. Giselle smiled. The bed was made, the carpet freshly vacuumed, and a finger on the dresser collected no trace of dust. She opened the window to let in some fresh air, before she left, closing the door behind her. She looked at her watch. It was a bit after six. That explained why the floor was so quiet; the residents would be at supper by now.
She'd just head down there herself and make sure that there would be something put aside for the new arrival. The officer who'd phoned earlier hadn't been able to confirm whether the girl would have had dinner before they brought her over. Even if she had, she might still be hungry. Giselle had learned that when it came to new arrivals, it was best to go in with as few expectations—but as many preparations—as possible. There would almost certainly be a surprise or two anyway, but she was used to that.
She was humming a bit as she made her way back downstairs. She didn't know a thing about Emma Swan beyond the few notes she'd jotted down earlier, but she was looking forward to changing that!
The girl with the long blonde hair and the world-weary expression sat unobtrusively in the inner office of the police station. She was tired, apprehensive, and doing her best not to imagine where she was going next. At least, she hadn't been locked up… yet. After the police officer had picked her up at the bus terminal, he'd brought her back to the station, sat her down in front of an unmanned desk, and told her to wait. She'd thought about trying to make a run for it, but there were easily over half a dozen cops in this inner office. She was sure to be spotted. As she watched, one officer got up and headed to the only obvious exit she could see. He lifted a white card attached to his belt loop and slid it through a scanner. Only then did he open the door. Emma groaned inwardly. Running was definitely out, unless she could get one of those cards.
Everyone around her was busy, but from time to time, someone had come to check up on her. One officer had given her a Mr. Cluck Kids Combo a while ago. She'd eaten the cheeseburger, barely tasting it. She was saving the fries and cookie for later. She glanced at the Archie Comics Digest that another officer had set down in front of her. Sometimes, she liked reading about perfect teenagers in perfect small towns, whose biggest worries were which romantic interest they wanted to go to prom more with or how to avoid getting in trouble for forgetting to do their homework. Too bad the second one never worked; Emma might actually have been able to use that advice.
More out of boredom than interest, she opened the digest and started reading.
"Emma?"
She looked up, startled.
"Time to go," the officer said, smiling just a bit.
Emma shrugged and put down the digest.
"You can take that with you if you want."
"No thanks," she said, not meeting his eyes or volunteering anything further.
"Suit yourself," the young cop said. "C'mon."
She obeyed, fighting the urge to ask about where she was going. Her social workers had never given her much information about her placements in the past and what they did tell her could have meant anything:
"They're nice people."
"They're rich people."
"They're well-off."
"You'll like them."
"They've taken in a lot of kids over the years."
"You won't have to change schools."
"You'll like your new school."
"It's a big house."
"It's a small house."
"You'll have a roommate."
"You'll have your own room."
They'd never lied to her, but they'd never told her anything she might have wanted to know before going in. She wasn't sure herself what she'd want to know, apart from the one question she couldn't ask. The one for which the answer had, so far, always been 'no'. Will they want to adopt me?
No matter how nice this officer was, Emma knew he wouldn't be able to answer that question either. And if he couldn't… then it didn't really matter where she was going, did it?
She slid off her wooden chair, grabbed the bag with the remains of her lunch from off the desk, and fell resignedly into step beside her escort.
