A/N: Episode reference: OUAT S6E20—The Song in your Heart

Chapter Eight

"She ran over a week ago," Phyllis said tersely. "Played it smarter than I would have: she bought a bus ticket from Boston to Bangor, stayed there for a couple of days from the look of it, and then bought another ticket in Bangor to get here. Foster only reported it last night."

Jerrica blinked. "Why would they have taken so long?" she asked.

"The department doesn't tell me everything," Phyllis answered. "But usually, when a kid runs away from a placement, Child Services sends someone to check out the home, too. Maybe the foster family wasn't up to code. Or they thought they weren't," she added.

Jerrica frowned. "You think they were afraid of losing their license?"

"That's my bet," Phyllis said with a disgusted look. "Stupid. I mean, sure, we'd ask the home a few questions—more about who the kid's friends were, if anyone had any ideas why they might have run, that kind of thing. We might take a quick look around to make sure everything looked normal, but..." She shook her head. "Yeah, maybe it's different in Boston, but out here, for all the vetting the department does before we approve a home for fostering, it's not like we'd shut a home down just because someone didn't change the batteries in the smoke detector, or there's a bottle of cough syrup on the counter instead of being locked in the medicine cabinet. That's stuff we look at during the initial assessments before we approve a foster home, but even if an investigator noticed now, they'd just tell the family what the issue was and what to do to fix it. For us to close a place down, it would have to be over something a lot worse. Now, maybe there was something worse going on up there, or maybe the foster home just panicked or hoped Emma would turn up on her own, safe and sound. Kid's got a history of running—we know that now—but on the other occasions, she was usually picked up within forty-eight hours and five miles of her foster placement."

"So, it's possible that, at first, they didn't report it, because they thought she'd be back sooner, and then they worried that they'd left it too long...?" Jerrica was shaking her head. "I-I mean, I can see the thought process, but we're talking about an eleven-year-old girl!"

A soft thump from outside the sitting room window startled her, and she whipped her head around in the direction of the sound.

Phyllis got up from her chair, quickly. "Keep your eye on the window," she ordered. "Give a yell if you seen anyone climbing down after that knapsack." She moved toward the door. "Meanwhile, I'll check the front door." She sighed in annoyance. "I know Jem and the Holograms had a rehearsal studio in this place, so there had to be good acoustics in there, but did they really need to be good enough everywhere else in this house to carry our voices out to the hallway?"

Aja waited until they were back at the hotel before she rounded on Kimber. "You know Starlight is strictly a pop label!" she exclaimed. "How could you offer to—?"

"Well, maybe it's time to branch out!" Kimber replied defensively. "Besides, I didn't promise, but that band was pretty good. I bet if Jerrica signed them, she'd be glad she did."

"Who said anything about signing them?" Craig interrupted. "Jerrica just wants Jetta to do the benefit. If her new band wants to be part of it, hey, our new band is going to be part of it, and I didn't hear you guys saying anything about the concert being strictly pop. Obviously, we need to talk it over with Jerrica, but getting Jetta and her group entertainment visas so they do the gig isn't the same as signing them to the label. Jerrica's usually pretty reasonable," he pretended he didn't hear Kimber's snort and went on, "I think she'll, at least, consider it."

"This is true," Aja admitted.

"But if she says no," Stormer said worriedly, "then what?"

Craig frowned. "Then Jetta used to be a Misfit, and Phyllis is involved with this thing. How about we ask her?"

"Works for me," Aja nodded.

"Hey, yeah," Stormer said, brightening. She frowned then. "Only... she never really did much of the paperwork. It was all Eric and sometimes, her dad."

"Well, Eric's still in prison, and Mr. Gabor is..." Kimber's voice trailed off and she lowered her eyes.

"Yeah," Craig said. "Still, if Phyllis wants Jetta—or, I guess we should be calling her Sheila now—on stage, then I think she'll figure out how to get the paperwork sorted properly. So, we call Jerrica, we tell her what's going on, and we go from there. Sound good?"

Aja beamed. The others nodded.

Emma's hand was turning the front doorknob, when she heard a firm voice behind her. "Emma." She half-turned, shoulders slumping in defeat. Then a new thought struck her. This wasn't a jail. She wasn't grounded. If she played this smart...

"Oh, hi, Ms Gabor," she said, forcing herself to smile.

"Going somewhere?"

Emma nodded. "Yeah, I told some friends I was going to meet them to study," the lie sounded convincing to her own ears. Then she saw Jerrica come out of her office holding a familiar knapsack. Crap. She twisted the doorknob, yanked the door open and started to run, ignoring the shouts behind her.

The Shadow found Pan at his thinking tree. "You're concerned," it noted, its voice dry and dispassionate.

Pan shrugged. "Faith, trust, and pixie dust have their place," he returned lightly, "but I like a little extra insurance. Wendy will do her best, I'm sure. But if it's not good enough... How fare our other interests?"

The Shadow shrugged. "Coming along. The boy has distrust enough for both, but as for the girl... she still sees only the bright side of magic. It will need dampening if she's to play her part when the time comes. Sadly for our purposes, the boy has already learned to keep his beliefs to himself. Already, too many people have told him that what he knows to be true is impossible. He's grown too wary to risk sharing his past with another. At least, for now."

Pan nodded. "I suppose that was to be expected," he admitted, disappointment heavy in his voice. "Funny, though. All of this has happened before, and it will all happen again. For there was another girl once who couldn't see magic's darkness until it engulfed her and brought her here. She learned her lesson in the end, but far too late to do her any good. Do you imagine," he asked nonchalantly, "that she might try to spare another from her sorry fate if she had the opportunity?"

The Shadow rippled as though convulsed by laughter, though it made no mirthful noise. Still, there was a note of good humor in its voice that hadn't been there before when next it spoke. "I don't think her conscience would let her do otherwise. Unless you forbade her, of course."

A sly grin spread across Pan's face. "Now why in the realms would I ever do that?" he asked with exaggerated innocence.

Phyllis swore audibly, as Emma tore down the front walk. "Jerrica," she warned, stepping out of her heels, "you aren't seeing this!" Then, she sprang forward, overtaking the girl and bearing her to the ground in a flying tackle.

"What the hell?" Emma exclaimed, struggling to break loose.

"Cant..." Phyllis grunted, "blast... you... for... language... without... being... a... hypocrite." She rose, pulling Emma up after her, "but if you think I'm gonna let you run, think again." Emma slumped in the social worker's grasp, but it didn't slacken. Phyllis sighed. "C'mon, kid. Let's go back inside and talk."

"I'm already packed," Emma muttered.

Phyllis snorted. "Yeah, I saw. Well, after we talk, you can unpack. From what I know of Jerrica, this little stunt isn't gonna be enough to make her give up on you, yet."

"Wait," Emma narrowed her eyes. "You mean... you're not..."

"Kid, do you have any idea how much paperwork needs to get approved before you go back? You might age out of the system before we figure out the best way to ship you across the country. Meanwhile, you stay here. Unless you've got some relative out there who can take you in."

Emma shook her head. "No," she said softly. "I haven't got any relatives."

"That you know of," Phyllis corrected her. "Maybe we can find one. Tell you what. We go back inside, we talk things over rationally, and then... I know a guy. He's good with computers and government systems and he owes me. You tell me what you know about your family history and I'll see what he can turn up."

"I was abandoned on the side of a highway in Maine," Emma said flatly. "That's it."

Phyllis's eyebrows shot up. "You never know, kid," she said. "That might just be enough. C'mon," she added more firmly. "Inside."

Emma's expression was skeptical, but she let Phyllis turn her around and steer her back toward the house. She didn't miss the strange expression on Jerrica's face as she passed. It looked almost as though the other woman was trying not to laugh. Evidently, Phyllis saw it too, because she immediately snapped, "Don't say it!" as she strode inside.

Emma shook her head when Jerrica pushed the candy dish on the coffee table in her direction. "I'll probably get carsick if I eat now," she muttered.

"That's happened before," Phyllis said calmly. "But I'm not taking you anywhere right now, so you might as well put your clothes away."

Emma blinked. "I thought..."

"Yeah, you did. You've got a good imagination, kid, but you don't have all the facts. Then again," she shrugged, "I don't either. So before I make you any promises, you happy here?"

"What?"

"You know, you're entitled to get your hearing checked on the department's dime, if you need it. Are you happy here?"

"I..." Emma stopped. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had asked her a question like that. She wasn't sure if she knew how to answer it. She didn't usually let herself care enough to think about whether she liked a placement or not. If she did, it hurt more when she left it. If she didn't, the days until she got shipped out again dragged forever. Keeping her head down, going through the motions, and trying not to make waves kept her life in a manageable rut. And if it didn't feel manageable anymore, at least she knew how to travel light when she was ready to run. "I... yeah, I guess so?"

Phyllis shrugged. "Okay." She smiled at her and then looked at Jerrica. "I'll be back in a couple of months to see how she's settling in."

"Wait." Emma looked at Phyllis, glanced quickly at Jerrica, and then back. "That's it?"

"For now," Phyllis said. "Look, kid, having no parents or other family sucks most of the time. In this case, though, it means that nobody in Boston is breathing down the department's neck ranting about not being able to visit you. We've got plenty of those cases here in LA, so I bet Boston's similar. At some point, we'll probably have to ship you back, but meanwhile, if you're happy where you are, there's no need to rush." She smiled. "In my opinion, ripping you out of school, right when you're starting to get used to the place would probably be a bad move. Might even give you a complex, what do you think?"

This was the second time in as many minutes that Phyllis had asked Emma what she thought. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to answer this time either, but she nodded cautiously.

"Right. In that case," she plucked Emma's knapsack off the floor beside the coffee table and handed it to her, "better get this unpacked. If you just threw everything in there, your clothes are gonna get creased if they're scrunched up in there for long."

Emma took it. "Thanks." She slid off the sofa.

"Emma?" Jerrica called after her. "If you want to talk later, I'm here."

Emma nodded. "Yeah," she said, sounding a bit dazed. "I know."

As she walked back up the stairs, she was still feeling a bit shellshocked. Deirdre had her guitar plugged into the amp again and the melody was reverberating through the second floor of the house. This time, though, her mind supplied new lyrics to the tune she'd been hearing for the last few days:

I can see me staying in this place

I can see a smi-ile on my face

I can see me saying loud and clear

That I'm staying right here!

And maybe she couldn't see her lips pulling back into a smile, but she could definitely feel them.

Jerrica hung up the phone again after talking to Kimber. Life seldom ran smoothly, but visa red tape wasn't the most major hurdle she'd ever had to face. Suddenly, holding the concert months down the road was starting to look like a godsend. She called Phyllis. "Hey. It's Jerrica."

On the other end, Phyllis sighed. "Don't tell me she ran again!"

"What?" Jerrica blinked. Then she smiled. "Oh. No, it's not about Emma. No, your tip about Jetta paid off, but there's a bit of a snag."

Phyllis listened. "That's not much of a snag," she scoffed. "If you recall, Eric was so desperate to sign the Stingers back in the day, that he gave them half our company. Still burning about that," she added. "Even if it really was his, the bastard took our name off the label and overnight, Misfits Music became Stingers Sound." A pause. "Crap, even after all this time, it still burns."

"I might have said 'stings'," Jerrica suggested and was rewarded by a chuckle on the other end.

"Or stinks," Phyllis rejoined. "But anyway, even if the company changed names, they still had the Misfits signed. Give me Riot's number. I'll bet he's still got some contacts in Europe from when he was starting out. If he wants the Misfits on stage, that includes Jetta. Let him sweat this one."

"And the band she's performing with now?"

Phyllis made a non-commital sound on the other end of the phone. "Hey, if he wants to handle their paperwork, too, the more the merrier, right?"

Jerrica sighed with relief. "Thanks, Phyllis. Kimber told me they're pretty good. If Riot doesn't want to bring them over, let me know. I can run it by Starlight's legal team and see what's involved and if we can go that route."

"You got it."

It was late, but Emma couldn't sleep. For the first time in a long time though, she was dreaming that maybe this could actually be real. Maybe it could last. Not forever; nothing lasted forever. But maybe she was here for months, or even years. Maybe she could stay until she was old enough to be an emancipated minor and live at Haven House!

Sleep couldn't overpower her tonight and she felt like she had too much energy to stay in bed. Barefoot in her nightgown, she quietly eased the door open and padded toward the stairs. As long as she was up, she thought, she might as well explore the house. Who knew? Maybe there was even a cupboard here that led to some magical winter wonderland! Nah. Now she was being silly. Still. What if there was? Had it been daylight, she probably would have been more sensible, but now, at night, anything felt possible.

She was glad that the stairs didn't creak as she made her way down.

Her eyes widened when she flicked on the light and found herself in a large room with a stage at one end. "Unreal," she whispered. It was like a school auditorium, only this one didn't double as a gym. She wondered if the kids here put on their own plays or fashion shows. (She also wondered why Deirdre couldn't rehearse down here instead of driving them all crazy with her practicing upstairs.) Hesitantly, she approached the stage. Once, a long time ago, she'd thought about performing in a talent show, but a cutting remark by another girl at the group home where she'd been living had made her reconsider and she never had gotten up on that stage after all. Now, she found herself wondering what might have happened if she'd gone through with it.

Slowly, almost as though some magic was pulling her toward it, she advanced to the stage, braced her hands on its edge, and vaulted onto metal pole of the standing microphone downstage center was cold in her hand. She didn't know how to turn it on, but then again, she didn't want to wake the house. Instead, she tightened her grip on it, took a deep breath, and belted out the lyrics she'd thought up earlier. Her lyrics. All hers.

I can see me staying in this place

I can see a smi-ile on my face

I can see me saying loud and clear

That I'm staying right here!

More words came to her now and she closed her eyes focusing on drawing them out, trying to hear Deirdre's guitar in the back of her mind accompanying her.

I can see me taking center stage

I can see me write on a new page

That I'm staying right here!

She exhaled, smiling broadly and feeling far more drained than she had less than an hour ago. If she went back to bed, she bet she could fall asleep now.

And then, soft enthusiastic applause startled her. She looked in the direction from which it had come and saw a side door she'd missed before. Standing in its doorway, Joellen beamed at her. "That was amazing," she breathed. "How long have you been writing songs?"