A/N: Joellen's welcome gift was inspired by a pattern on the origami-fun website.

Chapter Five

Emma had been hoping for a quiet drive, maybe with the radio tuned to some decent music, but Phyllis wasn't having it.

"LA's got a pretty decent school system," she said. "I think you'll like it here."

Emma shrugged. She didn't much care about school, though if she sat at the back of the room and didn't call attention to herself, she could get through the day well enough.

Phyllis's eyes narrowed and a faint smile came to her face. "I'm not sure how it was back wherever you're from, but I'd imagine you'll still pass the fourth grade qualifying test."

"Uh, Phyllis—" Ashley started to say, but a bristling Emma interrupted.

"I'm in sixth grade!" she snapped.

Phyllis's smile grew slightly wider. "Sixth," she repeated. "Huh. Skipped a year?"

"What?"

"Well," Phyllis said slowly, "the police report we got estimated your age at nine or ten, so—"

"I'm eleven!" Emma interrupted.

Phyllis's eyebrows rose. "Eleven and in sixth," she said. "Okay. That stuff's always a hassle to fix once it's in our computer, but I'll try to get that taken care of before you register." She sighed. "If we knew where you were from, we could probably get your transcripts…"

For an instant, Emma's eyes widened. Then her face turned stony and she looked pointedly out the window.

In the front passenger seat, Ashley shot Phyllis a quick, surprised grin as they stopped at a red light. In less than five minutes, her mentor had managed to wrangle two new pieces of information to add to Emma Swan's file. It probably wasn't going to be enough to track down where she'd come from or who her parent or guardian was, but they were closing in on those answers.

Catching her eye, Phyllis grinned back. Hope you're taking good notes, Ashley, because Emma Swan won't be the only kid you'll meet who won't want to share her life story. Luckily, that old knack I've always had for being underhanded and sneaky? Sometimes it still comes in handy.

Emma couldn't help noticing the bounce in Ashley's step as they headed up the walk. Haven House had been big, but this place was a mansion. And it definitely looked like it was in better condition. It's just a group home, she told herself. Once she got inside, it was probably going to be all uncarpeted floors and boring furniture that made her think of the hospital rooms she'd seen on TV. She wondered if she'd have her own room. Sometimes she did. Sometimes she had a roommate. Sometimes she had more than one. She preferred her own room.

Ashley bounded up the stairs and stabbed her finger on the doorbell. A moment later, it opened and a young woman with shaggy blonde hair bursting out from under an ivy cap stepped out. "Deirdre!" Ashley exclaimed.

"Ashley?" the girl exclaimed, flinging her arms around the other woman with a squeal. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming? I thought it was a new—" She broke off abruptly, noting the other two people on the front step.

"It is," Ashley said quickly. "Emma Swan, Deirdre Baxter. Deirdre, this is Emma. And I guess you know…"

Phyllis was already stepping forward. "Phyllis Gabor," and then seeing the blank look on Deirdre's face shot a quick glance at Ashley and added a bit reluctantly, "Odds are, I was a bit of a Misfit the last time you saw me. Jerrica here?"

Deirdre's eyes widened. "Wait. Pizzazz?"

Phyllis rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. It's me. Don't shout it from the rooftops. And you're confusing the kid," she added, jerking her head in Emma's direction. "Can we come in?"

"Sorry!" Deirdre exclaimed. "I mean, of course! Come in! And Ashley, if you've got time, we have got to catch up!"

A few minutes later, Phyllis, Emma, and Ashley were sitting in a comfortable living room, while a young woman with shaggy blonde hair and warm smile set down a teapot and a tray of fruit and cut-up pastries.

"I'm not hungry," Emma said with a shake of her head, even as she looked longingly at a quartered sweet bun.

The woman—Jerrica—shrugged. "I didn't know you had to be for a sweet bun," she remarked. "If you change your mind, just help yourself."

Emma nodded tersely and hunched forward, doing her best to tune out Phyllis's voice as she gave Emma's particulars. Including the ones Emma realized she'd given away on the car ride over here. When Phyllis was done, Jerrica smiled at Emma, just like most of the other foster 'parents' did at first meeting. Emma knew it wouldn't last long. A week, a month, and the frowns would set in, then the lectures and nosy questions, and finally the phone call to get rid of her. Sometimes, Emma wondered why she ever bothered unpacking.

"Sounds like you've had a rough couple of days," Jerrica said. "Well, I'll ask Mrs. Bailey—she's the housekeeper here—to show you your room. You'll pass the common room on your way; a few of the other girls are usually there. Feel free to join them or, if you'd rather be left alone to settle in, that's fine, too. Quiet time's at nine; no loud music or socializing after that. Bedtime is normally at ten, but once you start school, if you really need to stay up later to finish your homework, talk to me about it and we can probably work something out."

Emma nodded.

Jerrica held out her hand and, after a moment's hesitation, Emma took it. "I hope you enjoy it here," she said simply, treating Emma's answering shrug as though it had been enthusiastic agreement. She got up and left the room, returning a moment later with a bespectacled woman with a motherly smile and a fashion sense that looked like it was a couple of decades out of date. So, this was Mrs. Bailey.

As Emma trailed the housekeeper out of the room, she heard Jerrica say, "Actually, Phyllis… if you have a minute, there's something else I wanted to discuss with you."

"A benefit," Phyllis repeated, as though she was trying to correctly pronounce a word in a foreign language that she was hearing for the first time. "I don't…"

"That's a great idea!" Ashley enthused. "Hey, remember when Deirdre, Becky, Lela and me had our own band? We were pretty good!"

"You were," Jerrica allowed with a smile. She turned back to Phyllis. "Do you think the Misfits might be interested?"

Phyllis sighed. "I get the feeling you talk to Stormer more than I do these days," she said. "I can ask her sure, but it probably won't help, seeing as I haven't had any contact with Jetta in years and the last time Roxie called, she was singing in some nightclub in Vegas.

"The Starlights could do it!" Ashley proclaimed. "A few weeks to rehearse and we'll be ready!"

Jerrica winced. "Uh, I'm sure you could be, but…"

"Oh, right," Ashley said. "Becky went back to her family and Lela left town. But I bet I can find two new singers! Let me ask Deirdre if any of the girls here now have any talent!" At that, she leaped from her chair and, forgetting all dignity, raced out of the sitting room.

Phyllis looked after her ruefully. "They any good?" she asked.

Jerrica hesitated. "Ashley started that band when she was thirteen. At the time, they sounded very good."

"Professional good?"

"Middle school battle of the bands winner good," Jerrica admitted. "But that was a few years ago."

"You're not seriously thinking of…?"

Jerrica shook her head. "But hopefully, she'll realize she's probably not ready on her own without my having to tell her."

"And see, this is why nice folk finish last," Phyllis smirked, but without the edge that might have been there in her Misfit days. "So, I don't know about reuniting the Misfits. Had any luck with Jem and the Holograms?"

"I…" Jerrica hesitated. "I reached out to Jem and she's willing. The others are on the fence. I think Kaleidoscope Haze is a lock, but as to whether Kimber and Aja would want to do a few songs with Jem too, I don't know."

"And Shana and Raya?"

"Timing is everything."

"Time was when I thought winning was," Phyllis said.

"Well, if we can get the bands back together, I'll call it a win."

"Ain't that the truth," Phyllis nodded. She leaned forward then, her expression intent. "You know…" she began slowly.

"What?"

Phyllis shrugged. "Can't believe I'm suggesting this but… you know part of what drew the crowds to our gigs was seeing our not-so-friendly rivalry and taking bets on who was going to come out on top each time."

"We didn't exactly want that rivalry," Jerrica said. "All we… all Jem was looking to do was help me keep Starlight House operational and for that, we needed money. Which Eric was controlling," she added.

"Well, he had an MBA and you had… Did you have college?"

"Just for a year," Jerrica admitted. "I had to drop out to run Starlight House. I know. It wasn't just about the money. I knew how my dad wanted the music company run and Eric had a different vision."

"Promoting 'trash'?" Phyllis asked.

Jerrica winced as she remembered the first time she and the woman seated across from her had crossed paths. "Sorry about that. Dad probably wouldn't have signed the Misfits but not because they were trash. Because… Harlequin doesn't publish superhero comics. Starlight had a certain sound and style it represented, and the Misfits weren't it."

"Apology accepted," Phyllis said. Then she added casually, "Eric was also embezzling from the company. He told me early on."

"I didn't know," Jerrica admitted, "not then. When we went over the books later, well, I wasn't surprised. Why are we talking about this?"

"Tangent," Phyllis said. "Sorry. I was meaning to suggest… our rivalry was a big draw back in the 80s, but now, well, I bet a lot of those old fans would buy tickets to hear us collaborate on a few numbers. A couple of medleys, maybe Kimber and Stormer could write us a few new songs…"

For the first time since the Holograms' lukewarm replies to her calls, Jerrica felt a stirring of hope. "That could work…" she said thoughtfully. "That could actually work."

The room Mrs. Bailey showed Emma looked okay. Actually, it looked a lot like the one Giselle had shown her at Haven House. There were a few personal touches, evidently left behind by a former occupant.

"Oh, Terri was very much into Raggedy Ann," Mrs. Bailey told her, when Emma picked the doll up from the pillow on the bed. "She had quite the collection. Most of it's in storage now, but she asked that we keep one of the dolls here when she left. To welcome whoever took the room next, so I guess it's yours now," she added with a smile.

"Uh… thanks," Emma answered. She thought she'd had a doll like it once, or at least played with one, though she couldn't remember when or where. Perhaps at one of her first foster homes, or in preschool or kindergarten.

"Well, would you like me to take you around to meet the other girls?" the housekeeper asked. "Or would you rather settle in?"

Past experience had told Emma that making new friends meant leaving them behind when she moved on. It was easier not to bother. "Settle in," she said, setting her knapsack down at the foot of the bed before she remembered her manners. "Please."

"That's fine, dear," Mrs. Bailey said. "I'll tell the girls. Though I wouldn't be surprised if some of them knock on your door this evening, you being new and all."

Emma shrugged.

"I hope you enjoy your time with us," the housekeeper continued. "Lights out at ten; I'll come back and knock around a quarter to to remind you. And if you change your mind about meeting the others, there's a common room at the end of the hall. There's usually someone there."

"Okay," Emma said, absently cuddling the Ragged Ann doll. "Thanks." She moved over to the window and pretended to be fascinated by the outside view until she heard Mrs. Bailey's footsteps recede down the hall.

"So, if Jerrica can't find Jem, and if the Holograms don't want to come back," Ashley finished, "that could be our big break!"

"Our big break?" Deirdre repeated skeptically. "We had a band when we were kids, we performed one number in the Jem Jam, we got our fifteen minutes of fame, and even though we kept practicing together until Becky and Lela moved out, we never went on stage again."

"Which is why a concert now would be our big break!" Ashley exclaimed.

Deirdre sighed. "We're two women down, in case you hadn't noticed," she said. "And I haven't had time to touch my guitar since I started college."

Ashley looked downcast for a moment, but then she perked up again. "When Shana left the Holograms to work for Liz Stratton, the band had auditions for a new member and Raya came aboard. I bet there's some other talent right here at Starlight House! We just need to find them!"

"We?" Deirdre repeated skeptically.

"Sure, you sound out the other girls and let me know when a good time to hold the tryouts would be. We can start rehearsing as soon as we find a drummer and a keyboardist."

"Ashley!" Deirdre exclaimed.

"Ashley…" Both young women turned to see Phyllis standing in the doorway. "I'm set to go. You need a lift, kid, or are you going to make your own way back?"

Ashley groaned. "It'll take me almost an hour on LA Transit," she said. "If you really don't mind…?"

"Well, I might have to dump you at the subway, if your front door's too far out of the way, but I can still probably save you some time. If you're ready now."

Ashley got to her feet with an apologetic look at Deirdre. "It's been great seeing you again," she said, giving Deirdre a one-armed hug. "Bye for now. I'll pop by in a week or so and you can update me on how the talent search is going."

Deirdre returned the hug awkwardly. Ashley and Phyllis were already halfway down the hall before she muttered, "I can hardly wait!"

The knock was polite and hesitant and Emma knew that if she ignored it, the person would probably go away. It was almost certainly Mrs. Bailey or, perhaps, Jerrica. They probably wouldn't send her away if she didn't answer, at least not on her first night. Still, this was a new placement in a new city and a new chance to start things out on the right foot. She got up slowly and opened the door partway.

It wasn't either of the two women she'd been expecting. Instead, an older girl, her dark hair braided close to her scalp and twined with brightly-colored strings and beads smiled in at her. "Hi," she said. "I'm Joellen."

"Emma," Emma said, keeping her face expressionless.

"Hi," Joellen said again. "I just wanted to see if you're settling in okay."

Emma shrugged. "You're a counsellor?"

Joellen shook her head. "I've lived here since I was seven," she said. "I'm seventeen now—the oldest one here still in the System—so I'm sort of the welcome wagon. On that note," she added, holding something out to Emma, "welcome." As Emma tentatively reached for the offering, Joellen continued, "I've got this book of origami patterns," she said. "They didn't have a swan, but I thought this looked close."

"It's not a swan?" Emma asked, surprised out of her impassivity, as she examined the folded paper construct.

"That was my reaction, too," Joellen said. "Believe it or not, it's supposed to be a pelican."

"No way," Emma said. She stroked the little bird gently with one fingertip and a small smile tugged at her lips. "Thanks."

"I'm glad you like it," Joellen said, grinning back. "I could lend you the book sometime, if it's something you want to learn."

Emma hesitated. "Maybe," she allowed. 'Sometime' all too often tended to mean 'never'. After all, even if she somehow managed to stay here until she was eighteen—and she wasn't holding her breath—if Joellen was seventeen, then she'd be gone in less than a year. Maybe the older girl meant well. She probably did, in fact. But Emma knew that even people who meant well often didn't have time to do half the things they promised to.

"Actually," Joellen said, "my room's just two doors down from yours if you turn left when you go out the door. If you're really interested and not just trying to be polite about it, stop by tomorrow after supper and I'll give you your first lesson."

That, Emma had to admit, sounded a lot less vague. "I'll think about it," she said slowly. "I-is that okay?"

"Sure," Joellen agreed, pretending she hadn't seen the quick flash of excitement in the younger girl's eyes. "Totally your call."

Muffled footsteps padded on the pile carpeting, drawing closer. "Lights out in ten minutes, girls," Mrs. Bailey's voice announced.

Joellen sighed. "You couldn't make it fifteen, just this once?"

"We both know it wouldn't be just this once," Mrs. Bailey replied crisply, her face coming into view through Emma's half-open doorway. "If you're not sleepy, you can read by the light of the streetlamp outside your window, just as you usually do."

Joellen flinched. "You know?"

The housekeeper's face was stern, but there was a crinkle in the corners of her eyes that suggested she wasn't nearly as disapproving as she seemed. "My dear, we can only control the lights in this house, not those outside of it. And, so long as you're awake enough in your classes to keep your grades up, I don't see as it's doing you any harm. But keep those grades up so you keep your scholarship."

"You know I will," Joellen grinned. "Nice talking to you, Emma. Hope I see you at breakfast in the morning. G'night."

"Night," Emma repeated. She glanced up at the housekeeper. "Night, Mrs. Bailey."

"Good night, Emma."

As Emma closed the door, her tiny smile broadened as she realized that, as miserable as she'd been all afternoon, she was actually having a better night than she'd imagined.

And less than an hour later, when sleep claimed her, it did so without the accompaniment of the sweet, haunting music that always seemed to accompany her in those brief moments as she passed from wakefulness to slumber.

Elsewhere

"I didn't expect you back this quickly," the youth said with a slight laugh. "Don't tell me you lost her?"

The Shadow had no facial features save for its glowing eyes, so it was impossible for Pan to tell whether it was amused or annoyed. "Not possible," it replied, and its dry conversational tone might have suited either emotion equally.

"Well then," Pan said, "what news?"

"The Savior did not hear the pipes this evening."

Pan shrugged. "So she didn't go to sleep sad and lonely. That happens occasionally, though I doubt it'll last long. Anything happen to cause her, uh, lack of misery?"

"A new caretaker in a new city," the Shadow replied. "But there's room to think that the walls the girl has erected to protect her most vulnerable feelings are beginning to lower."

A slight crease marred Pan's youthful forehead as he frowned, but his discomfiture vanished quickly. "As they do when she begins to hope that her life may change for the better," he said, affecting a shrug, but his smile seemed forced as he continued speaking. "Children are, at heart, optimists; when the cynicism sets in and hardens, that's when they truly begin to grow up. The savior, for all her tribulations, is still a child, it seems. And I shan't let Baelfire go to her until she grows up enough; otherwise there's no point to it."

The sound that emanated from the Shadow might almost have been a snicker. "They tell stories of you, you know," it said. "In the realm where the savior lives. And in those stories, grown-ups are scarcely held high in your esteem."

Pan smiled. "Well, there's a grain of truth in that, as there is in all stories. But grown-ups do have their uses if you know enough to exploit them. And besides that, the savior will hardly be able to give me the Truest Believer if she never grows up enough to produce him." The boy frowned. "Of course, if she finds her happiness now, she won't be of the right mind to believe she might find it with Baelfire. Our experiences shape us and, if she forgets what it means to feel lonely and unloved, then she won't feel the connection I mean her to when the Dark One's lost boy finds her in the proper course of time." He sighed. "I guess you'd better go back there. Keep an eye on the girl. And if, in a week's time, she still slumbers too soundly for the pipes to disturb her," a sinister smile curved his lips, "I guess we'll just have to take steps."