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Fic: Glissando

Fandom: Glee
Rating: Teen
Genre: Crossover (Once Upon a Time/Glee)
Summary: Noah Puckerman has always wanted what he couldn't have.

This was written for Glee Reverse Bang, inspired by gorgeous art by the fabulous caitriona_3 and the art post is here.

The truck was an old one, battered and dented but clearly still functional, and the ‘For Sale’ sign shoved underneath the windshield wiper was strictly cardboard and Sharpie.  If it hadn’t been in her regular parking spot outside of the police station Emma probably wouldn’t have even noticed it, but it was currently in the space reserved for the Deputy and thus it was very much her problem.

“What’s with the rust-bucket out front?” she asked once she was inside.  “Whoever it is stole my parking place.”

Graham looked up from his paperwork.  “It belongs to the Puckerman kid.  His family’s pretty hard up and he needs the money, and this place sees more traffic than just about anywhere in town.”

“What about the diner?”

“Granny wouldn’t let him keep that eyesore within spitting distance of her place,” Graham said, laughing.  “I’m just hoping he sells it soon.  I’m not kidding when I tell you that they need the money.”

“How bad is it?”  She remembered years in the foster system.  Sometimes it could get really bad.

“Bad enough that they’re willing to sell their only transportation to cover the grocery bill.  His dad’s been gone for years and it’s just his mom and younger sister at home.  It would help if the kid could find a job, but he developed a reputation as a troublemaker when he was back in high school and no one trusts him to do as he’s told now that he’s eighteen and graduated.  It’s hard to stretch a CNA salary to cover a mortgage and three people, and Eliza’s not the type to ask for help even when it’s been earned.”

Emma could read between the lines and see that he was talking about qualifying for foodstamps or welfare and not applying for it.  “Is that thing going to really be much help?  It’s not exactly going to bring in much cash.”

“Every little bit helps.”  Graham turned back to his paperwork.  Emma sat down and did the same, sparing one last glance at the truck.  It seemed to have attracted the attention of Mr. Gold, at least, so maybe the kid would stand a chance at selling it and helping out his family.


The cow followed behind him on a rope, but Jack doubted he needed it.  The thing had always been stupidly loyal, not only to him but to his mother and sister as well.  Selling it to someone who wouldn’t value that kind of affection was its one special pain, but it fell far behind watching his sister starve so he would accept that and move on.

When he reached the first village his hopes were high.  The cow might currently be dry, but someone with more resources would have no problem matching it up with a stud and taking care of that problem.  It was good-natured and patient, and it was killing him to part ways with the animal, but without milk to sell they couldn’t afford to feed it.

Unfortunately the drought had affected more than just their farm and there weren’t any takers in the first village.  Jack felt his shoulders slump once it was out of sight and kept moving down the road, the animal following placidly behind him.  Maybe his luck would be better further on.  Someone had to be in the market for a cow, after all.  He just had to find the right person.

After three more towns the cow was outpacing him and his shoulders were slumped in defeat.  Every attempt to talk to a merchant or a farmer had ended with a door slammed in his face.  He would have better luck butchering the animal and trading off the meat, but he’d only end up with a fraction of the cow’s worth and he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

The sun was dipping down towards the horizon and Jack turned around for the disheartening journey home.  He wasn’t sure how he would be able to look his mother in the eyes after this failure, and was so busy trying to develop a plan for the next day’s trial that he only barely noticed when the shabby beggar joined him.


Mr. Gold approached him as he was on his daily circuit of job-hunting through town.  One day he was going to find somebody that needed a few hours of manual labor several times a week and this routine would become a thing of the past, but until then all he could do was keep trying until he found that magical combination.

“I hear you’re looking for work,” he said, leaning lightly on his cane.  “It just so happens that I know someone who’s hiring.”

“Really?”  It was hard not to be skeptical.  He’d been knocking on every door in town for the better part of a month and hadn’t had any sort of luck at finding a job.

“There’s a catch, of course.  You’ll need a guitar.  I have heard that you can play, from a colleague of mine at your old high school.”

“Wonderful.  Perfect.  I don’t have a guitar!”  Puck rolled his eyes and turned around.  He’d worry about the possibility of Schuester perving after him later.

“But you do have a vehicle that you’re attempting to sell,” the man’s voice cut in, making him stop a few feet away.  “How’s that going?  Any interest?”

“No one wants a truck that old, with that many problems and that much mileage,” he muttered.  Just ignore the fact that it was the most dependable car they’d ever owned and that without it they were all walking everywhere.  It was old and rusted and the odometer had been broken for most of Puck’s life and he’d be lucky if they managed to get enough to pay the electric bill from it.

“I might be willing to make a trade, as it were.  I have a guitar in my shop and I find I could use an older vehicle such as that one for some of my endeavors.  What do you say, young man?”  The man smiled, the expression not as comforting as it could have been.

Puck took a moment to think about it.  Trading the truck for a guitar seemed like a bad idea, but if the guitar led him to a steady job it would be worth it.  His mom would probably pitch a fit when she found out, but hopefully by then he’d have the job lined up and it would all work out.  “You’ve got a deal,” he finally said, reaching out one hand.  Mr. Gold did the same, still smiling as they shook on the deal.


Jack twitched his shoulders in the confines of the cupboard.  Yesterday after he ate his breakfast the ogre had spent about half an hour counting his money before falling asleep and leaving that gold blissfully unattended.  If he was lucky he’d get a repeat opportunity and be able to carry enough away to keep his family fed for a good long time.

The young man watched through the slats in the cupboard door as the ogre lumbered around the room, collecting sacks of gold and carrying them over to an enormous chair next to a fireplace just as he had the day before.  Instead of sitting down, the beast moved ponderously over to the cupboards, stopping in front of the one where Jack was hiding.

Jack’s heart froze when the rough, grimy clothing of the ogre blocked his view and he was certain that he was about to be caught and eaten.  He didn’t dare move or breathe as it stood there for several seconds before opening the cupboard directly to Jack’s right.  After rummaging around the other cupboard door was closed and the ogre headed back to his chair, setting his prize down on the table.

The harp was roughly the same size as a human being and it glittered gold in the light from the fireplace.  The idea that the ogre was about to start playing made him choke back a laugh.  Whatever it considered music was bound to be unbelievable noise.

Once he was settled into his chair with a bag of gold the ogre began counting out his money again.  It muttered a word in a language that Jack didn’t recognize once it was comfortable.  “Play, harp,” he grumbled, his voice deep and rough.

As Jack watched, the harp rippled, a series of melodious notes ringing from the strings.  The column of the instrument was carved in the shape of a young woman and it stirred, arms unfurling and face turning towards the ogre.  The strings rang out again before the figure of a woman began to sing, her harp strings picking out an accompaniment to the familiar melody. “Alas, my love, you do me wrong to cast me off discourteously,” she began, and Jack swallowed past the lump in his throat.  By the time the harp had sung the last lines of the song all Jack knew was that he couldn’t live without it.

It was so beautiful in the firelight that he almost forgot to be careful and quiet.  He was reaching up to open the cupboard door regardless of whether or not the ogre was asleep, desperate to be close to the source of the music, when the ogre shook himself out of his light doze and resumed his counting.  “Play,” he commanded, and the harp began again.

“As I went out walking on a cold winter’s day,” the harp sang, and Jack sat back and listened.  He didn’t know this song as well as the first.

It turned out to be a much longer song, something depressing about meeting Death and not being able to bargain a way out of the meeting.  He wouldn’t have thought it would have been a song that the ogre would have enjoyed, but the beast nodded his head as the harp sang.  It didn’t take long for the nodding to become more erratic under the harp’s voice and Jack watched as the ogre’s chin dropped down onto his chest.

The harp continued singing, either not noticing or not caring that its master couldn’t hear it any longer.  It finished the song and drifted into idle playing, alternating between the strings and that honey-sweet voice.  Jack waited until he was sure that the ogre was fast asleep before slipping out of the cupboard.

The music stopped instantly, though it ended on a pleasant note, and the ogre stirred but didn’t wake up.  “Who are you?” the harp demanded, her voice a whisper in the large room.  “What are you doing here?”

“I’m Jack,” he said, grinning.  “What about you?”


Puck had gotten onto the bar’s entertainment staff easily enough.  A part of him wanted to say it was because he’d demonstrated some pretty awesome guitar skills, but he’d always been honest with himself and he knew that it had more to do with a lack of general talent in everyone else when it came to music.  He’d only been seriously playing for a few weeks and while he was picking it up very quickly, he was barely decent as a musician.

He wasn’t strictly on guitar, of course.  If they needed an extra hand to help wash dishes or sweep the floor Rachel played the piano and sang solo for the patrons while he performed the menial labor.  It shouldn’t have worked as well as it did.  This wasn’t the kind of place that catered to Rachel’s mix of folk and musicals and the occasional pop song, especially when it was accompanied with only a piano and occasionally a guitar, but she was the sole source of entertainment every weeknight and during the day on Saturday and there had never been any complaints.

At least part of the success was due to Big Jim’s influence.  The owner of the place clearly had a soft spot when it came to Rachel, as evidenced by the request he’d just sent via a waitress, and no one really wanted to do much to upset him.  There was still a hole that went clear through the wall from the office to the hallway as clear testimony to Jim’s temper.  The other key lay in the way Rachel played the opening chords to the song on her piano, leaned into the microphone, and sang, “Weather man said its gonna snow, by now I should be used to the cold.”

Everyone in the place froze for a moment, just listening as her voice wound through the mournful song.  Even Puck paused in his task of bussing tables and he’d heard her practice this all afternoon.  He didn’t believe in magic, but if it did exist you wouldn’t come closer than listening to Rachel sing.  It made him forget how they were barely scraping by at home, and how much flack he got at school for being the poor kid from the wrong side of the tracks.

He wished he could just listen to her voice forever.


“I don’t think you’re supposed to be here,” the harp said, its voice soft.  Jack had a feeling that it didn’t want the ogre to wake up anymore than he did.  “The master eats little boys.  You could be in danger!”

“As long as we don’t wake him up, I’ll be fine.”  Jack couldn’t stop looking at the woman who made up the column of the harp.  He reached out and touched her hand, surprised to find it warm and yielding and almost human under his own.  Only the smooth texture gave a clue to the figure’s true nature.  “Why are you here?”

The harp didn’t pull away from his touch.  Instead she reached her other hand out and grasped his arm lightly.  Too-smooth, small fingers danced along the inside of his forearm and her face was full of fascination.  “I was given to him as payment so that he wouldn’t destroy the keep,” she said, tone matter-of-fact and yet somehow mournful.  “I entertained him more than simple gold, so he allowed them to live.  Why are you here?  I’ve never seen anyone else here, and it seems like I’ve been here forever.”

Jack just looked at her, stepping closer and touching the golden face and the hair that behaved almost like normal hair as it brushed his hand.  “I’m here to free you,” he answered, all thoughts of money disappearing.  “I’m going to take you away from him.”


Rachel was wiping off her stage makeup as he was clocking out and he waited for her just inside the communal dressing room while she changed into jeans and a sweater behind a privacy screen.  “You don’t need to walk me home.  I’m just three doors down, and Mr. Geant would never allow something to happen to me.”

The young man shrugged his shoulders and offered his arm.  “It’s on the way.  We can talk music while we walk.  Any new songs you want to work on tomorrow?”

She would always happily discuss music with anyone who brought up the subject, but Noah Puckerman was the first person to offer any sort of interesting discourse, and it was hard to stop once she got going.  Rachel talked about branching out a little from her boss’ preferred menu of country and folk and maybe trying something that was a little more pop or rock, maybe even something from a musical that had been written within the last twenty years, and she kept going with the young man’s broad-shouldered form on her right, her hand tucked securely into the crook of his elbow.  He walked down the block with her and then up the two flights of stairs until she was right at the door of the small apartment over the general store.

Noah didn’t get many words in during her chatter, mostly nodding and monosyllables, but being in his presence was surprisingly comfortable. He waited until she’d unlocked the door before stepping back and away.  The sudden loss of warmth at her right side made her shiver.  “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked, hand reaching up to tuck a strand of brown hair back behind her ear.  His callused thumb brushed her cheek for an instant and Rachel shivered again, this time for a different reason.  “I’d like to work on some new songs with you if we’ve got the time.”

Rachel smiled.  “That would be lovely.  Bring your music choices and we’ll brainstorm.”  She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, the action completely on impulse, and ducked into her apartment before she could change her mind and redirect the next kiss for his mouth.


The ogre didn’t wake up while Jack talked, his voice quiet because the thing’s wife was still lurking around somewhere.  He’d managed to charm a couple of meals out of her and talk her out of her suspicions when it came to the gold he’d taken, but taking the harp away would be noticed and would cut his access immediately and forever.  It would have to be carefully planned if he wanted to make it out alive.

The harp, who told him to call her Delyn, had latched onto the idea of freedom with enthusiasm.  “I haven’t been free in a long time,” she’d said, her strings playing a quiet minor chord before they stilled.  It was something to which Jack was becoming accustomed, her emotions playing out on the strings of the harp.  “Not in years.”

Jack hand on her upper arm, the smooth metal skin warm beneath his fingers.  Touch was apparently a novelty to her after so many years locked away with the ogre and Delyn smiled and reached out with her other hand.  “How did this happen to you?” he asked, and her smile dimmed.

“It’s not really a good story,” she said.  “When I was a girl all I wanted to do was sing.  I would hum while I did my work at the castle, and I would sing once I was released from my duties for the day, but I never quite learned how to be quiet.  It turned out that my favorite place to sing after my chores was right under the court magician’s meditation chamber, and one day I was making too much noise when he was attempting something delicate for the king.  He stormed down from his chamber and said that if I was going to sing all the time he was going to make sure there was a way to make me be quiet, and he turned me into this.”  She gestured to her body and to the harp attached to it.  Jack had noticed that while her arms and neck seemed to move freely, there wasn’t much motion below the waist in her body.  “He gave me to the king for a gift afterwards, I think as a joke.”

“What did he mean, he could make you be quiet?”

“The magician placed a second spell when he transformed me.  There’s a word that allows me to move and sing and speak and a word that makes it so I can’t do anything but watch and listen to what’s going on around me.  I know that much, but I’ve never learned what the words are.  You’ll have to discover them before I can leave.  Otherwise I’ll simply be a normal harp.”  Delyn looked worried at the prospect.  “If . . .if you decide you don’t wish to be bothered, I will understand.”

Jack brushed the golden hair back from her face.  “I’m not leaving you with him, Delyn.  I’ll figure it out, but you’ll need to give me some time.”

She smiled, the expression happy and bright, and tugged him closer so that she could kiss him, the gesture oddly innocent.  “Time is the one thing I do have, Jack.  I can wait as long as it takes as long as I know you’re going to set me free.”


Puck showed up as early as he dared the next day, guitar in hand.  He’d had a hard time sleeping the night before, Rachel’s voice invading his dreams every time he closed his eyes.  Eventually he’d given up and grabbed his guitar and a notebook to practice for work.  Rachel had a long list of favorite songs that he needed to learn, and Geant had another list of songs he wanted her to sing that he should probably figure out as well, but instead he tinkered with a few things that he thought would suit her voice that she would never choose on her own.  It would be interesting to hear Rachel imitate Amy Lee’s vocals or cover a song by Garbage, and to that end he’d brought in the lyrics and music to Seether’s ‘Broken’ for practice.

Rachel had read through the lyrics before looking up at him.  “I’ve never heard this song,” she admitted.  “I don’t know it.  Can you play it for me?”

He’d been expecting exactly that, honestly.  This song was outside of her comfort zone by a pretty wide margin.  “Here,” he said, and handed over the headphones of his ipod.  He knew the song well enough that he could tell by the way she tapped out the rhythm with her foot where she was, and by the second chorus she was humming, her voice finding the female vocals effortlessly.  It was exactly the way he’d imagined it, and Puck smiled as the song ended and her dark eyes opened and focused on him.

“You’ve got the music for this, right?”

“Lyrics and chords,” he told her.  “I figure you’re good enough with the piano that we can put together something interesting, if you’re up for it.”  He was smirking a little at her.  Music was the key to Rachel and he’d figured that one out within a week of meeting her.  Music was how she communicated with the world, and if you wanted to get your point across to her music was the way to make that happen.

They tinkered with the song for an hour or so, hammering out a way to use an acoustic guitar and a piano to replace electric guitar, violins, drums, and bass, before Rachel reluctantly put it to the side so that they could work on that night’s set list.  “Maybe next week, if I can get Mr. Geant to approve it.  It’s a wonderful song, Noah, but it might not be to his tastes.”

It probably wasn’t to the guy’s tastes, but Puck had no doubt that Rachel could talk the man into letting her sing it.  He’d let Rachel sing the Oscar Mayer weiner song if she asked.

The rest of the day went as scheduled.  He and Rachel went through the set list before he was called away to help set things up for the evening and she was left alone with the piano and a stack of sheet music that represented Geant’s favorite songs.  He couldn’t tell if he was imagining it or not, but she seemed less than enthused with the musical choices.  They opened the doors at three in the afternoon and Puck split his time between singing with Rachel (the best part of any day) and doing whatever else needed done around the bar.  Puck lingered after his shift, waiting while Rachel got ready to leave and walking her home again, this time without needing to make up an excuse.

She spent the short walk talking, branching out a little from her comfort topic of music and asking Puck about what he liked to do outside of the work they shared.  Puck kept his answers short, bringing up his sister and his mother and avoiding his juvenile record and how he’d barely gotten out of high school.  Rachel could fill in any gap in a conversation and he let her, one hand on his guitar case and her bag in his hand.  He walked her to the door of her apartment and waited until she had unlocked the door and stepped inside just like the day before, but she paused at the door.  “Would you like to come in?  I don’t have much to drink, but we could talk a little longer.”

His response wasn’t quite as immediate as it would have been back when he was in high school.  He wanted to spend more time with Rachel.  He wanted to make her laugh and sing with her and make out with her and have sex with her and possibly stay there.  But Puck knew if he pushed things that Rachel would be gone, and he didn’t want that to happen.

On the other hand, she’d invited him.  It was pretty damn obvious that she wanted something, at least.  So Puck nodded and followed Rachel into the apartment.  She was right about not having much to drink, apparently having decided that alcohol was too much of a risk for her voice, so he was left with water, tea, or coffee.  Once she’d handed him a cup of coffee she sat down next to him on the couch with a mug of tea in her hand.  “What do you want to do?” she asked, and his mind stuttered to a halt.  There were a lot of ways to answer that question.

Rachel continued without waiting for him to answer.  “I want to leave this town forever.  I don’t want to ever come back.  And I want to sing on a real stage, in New York City.”

Puck let out a breath of relief.  This was something he could answer.  “I want out.  Never gave much thought to where or what I would be doing, just as long as I left this town.”

The girl nodded.  “I think I know a way.”


Jack wasn’t a terribly patient person.  He didn’t like staying still while things happened around him, and climbing up the beanstalk every day and waiting wasn’t a particularly enjoyable way to spend his time.  He’d caught the magic phrase that returned Delyn to being merely a harp the day they’d met, lingering just long enough to learn what he could before he hurried back to the beanstalk.  Every morning he returned, talking the ogre’s wife into fixing him breakfast and hiding in the cupboards when the beast arrived, but for almost a week the ogre didn’t reach for his harp.  Without the magic word to wake Delyn from her enchantment, there was no reason to take her with him when he left, and that was something he wasn’t willing to consider.

When the ogre finally removed Delyn from the cupboard above him Jack had almost fallen asleep in the cramped cupboard and very nearly missed it.  If it wasn’t for the overwhelming smell of the ogre as it stood directly in front of him Jack wouldn’t have noticed its approach, but thankfully he was awake and alert enough to listen when the ogre grumbled a word.  “Gilyabar,” he repeated, as quietly as possible as Delyn awakened, hopefully making enough noise as her strings rippled that he would go unnoticed.  The word felt awkward on his tongue and he practiced it over and over again while he waited for the ogre to fall asleep to the sound of Delyn’s music.

Like everything else with this mission, it took longer than Jack wanted.  She had to sing four separate songs, starting with the two that were apparently his favorites and that she had sung the last time the ogre had pulled her from her shelf and moving on to the song ‘Scarborough Fair,’ deepening her voice for the male lines and raising her voice into something sweet and high and almost mocking for the woman’s response.  Finally she slipped back into the mournful songs that seemed to be his entirely ironic favorites and began to sing ‘The Bramble Briar.’

The ogre had nodded off before she sang about the sister confronting her brothers, but Jack stayed until Delyn had drifted off into her usual gentle, wordless playing.  Then he crept out of the cupboard, making as little noise as possible.  Her face was turned to him instantly and she smiled as she continued playing.  The ogre wasn’t stirring as he approached and Jack hurried until he was next to her.  “I was worried you’d forgotten about me,” Delyn said, her voice soft.  “I was afraid I was going to stay here forever.”

“I’d never forget about you,” Jack said, stepping in close and brushing his hand over her golden face.  “It took this long to hear the words.”

“But you have them now?”

“Yes, I have them.  Are you ready?”

She reached out for his hand and pulled him close, kissing him gently.  “I’m ready, Jack.  The question is how are we going to escape him?”

“I’m going to run with you,” Jack said, working to keep his misgivings at this plan from his face.  “Can you keep your strings from playing as I move?  We might be able to get away as long as we’re quiet.”

“I can try.”  She stilled her strings and concentrated.  “Pluck one of the strings, but do it gently.”

He did as she suggested and found that the string didn’t move.  With that problem solved Jack simply picked her up and carried her towards the entrance of the room.  She wasn’t as heavy as he would have thought and they probably would have made a clean escape if the bottom portion of the column hadn’t struck a stack of gold coins as they went through the door.

The gold clattered to the stone floor and the ogre sat up in his chair.  It was the last clear look Jack managed before he was running through the rough castle and towards his beanstalk, still tucked away behind the stone building.

He could hear the ogre, feet thundering dully against the stone floors of his castle as the beast pursued him, and he didn’t dare take the time to think.  “Hold on to me,” he shouted, and Delyn’s warm golden arms wrapped around his neck.  With that, he let go of the harp and began scrambling down the beanstalk, the weight of his burden pressing against his back.  Once or twice the body of the harp hit his back with enough force to make him lose his grip and fall, but he managed to catch hold at the last moment.  The ogre was on the beanstalk far above him, but climbing down was slowing it down and Jack hit the ground with a thump.  He shook off Delyn’s arms and ran for the shed, returning with the axe they used to cut firewood.
The ogre wasn’t in sight, but the crashing sound of it coming down the beanstalk was growing steadily louder as Jack brought the blade of the axe down onto the vine.  The thing was thick and fibrous but parted easily under the blows, and it only took four or five blows before the thing started to sway.  The ogre was bellowing for him now, but Jack only needed to deliver two more strikes before the beanstalk creaked and shuddered and crashed to the ground.

Jack dropped to the ground next to Delyn, hoping that the fall had killed the ogre because he was too exhausted to fight.  The harp was on its side, Delyn struggling to push up with her arms but not quite managing it, and Jack set her upright.  “Is it over?” she asked.

The dust was settling and Jack couldn’t see any hint of the ogre.  It was quiet again, the sound of the crashing beanstalk dying away.  “It’s over,” he said.  He leaned over and kissed her.  “You’re free, Delyn.”  They would still have to find a magic-user who could remove the curse, but the worst part was over.  He leaned over and kissed her, hand brushing back golden hair.  “We’re free.”


The call came in at three in the morning, just as Emma was beginning to truly drift off into a deep sleep and she scrambled out of bed and headed to the sheriff’s office to see what the emergency happened to be this time.

Graham was pulling supplies together in the office, the keys to the squad car in his hand.  “The Puckerman kid just raided the cash drawer of the bar that hired him.  According to our last report, he ran off with the money and one of the female employees.”

Emma’s eyes widened as she followed him out to the car.  “I thought you said he was a good kid.”

“A good kid with no impulse control.  My guess is he met the girl, he saw an opportunity to get out, and he took it.  Now we’ve got to stop him before he makes it out of town.”

There was really only one road out of Storybrooke that counted: the one that eventually brought people into Boston.  Everything else just lead further out into the country and that was the last place that a young guy with a girl and a pile of stolen cash was heading.  The good news in this whole mess was that Puckerman didn’t seem like a planner and there was a chance he hadn’t been able to immediately run out of town.

Luck was on their side; Emma and Graham were waiting at the town line when the girl’s car came into sight.  The squad car was blocking the road and the car slowed and came to a stop about ten feet away.  When Graham demanded that the two of them get out of the car they complied, staying on opposite sides with their hands clearly visible at all times.  “I really thought you were smarter than this, Puck,” Graham said, approaching the young man with caution.  “What made you think you would get away with stealing from Geant?”

“He didn’t take that money,” the girl said.  There hadn’t been a name given and they hadn’t had time to track down anything about her.  “I did.  Geant hasn’t paid me for almost a year, and he makes me live in that apartment he owns.  All I did is take out what he owes me.”

Emma glanced at Graham, but he wasn’t giving anything away.  “Then why did Geant report that Puckerman stole the money?”

“Because he wants me to be brought back and Noah to go away,” the girl said.  “But I’m never going back.  This town is suffocating us.  I want to be free.”

“Rachel, we both know its my fault,” Puckerman said.  His eyes were glued on the girl.  “Stop.  You don’t have to get into trouble over this.”

“No, Noah.  I will not stop, and I will not allow you to take the blame for my actions.”

“I guess that means we’re all going down to the police station,” Emma said.  They didn’t slap handcuffs on the pair, mostly because there was no fight in either of them and at the moment laying charges would be a nightmare.  Graham escorted the young man to the police car and Emma stayed with the girl, and between the four of them there wasn’t any sort of disturbance on the way back to town.

Mr. Gold was waiting for them, leaning on that cane of his and almost smiling.  “I wish you had just come to me at the beginning, my dear,” he said, eyes on Rachel.  “I would have sorted this all out for you.”

This particular mess was going to take weeks to unravel, but it became clear very quickly that Rachel’s claims had been valid.  They wouldn’t be keeping the money they’d taken, but neither one of the kids would be facing charges either.  From the looks being shared between the two of them, it looked like the worst thing they would be facing was losing their jobs.  It was almost a happy ending.  Emma couldn’t wait to share it with Henry later and see what her son would make of it.

Song Listing, in order of use:


Death and the Lady

Over You – Miranda Lambert

Broken – Seether

Scarborough Fair

The Bramble Briar

And for the curious, these were the magic words.  Translated from Romani:

gilyabar – sing
mor rakker sä drován – don’t talk so loud


( 6 comments — Leave a comment )
Mar. 31st, 2013 02:39 am (UTC)
Awwwww. Great melding of two verses and fairy tales :). Though surprising that gold seemed to do 2 things of no benefit to himself
Mar. 31st, 2013 04:21 pm (UTC)
I could answer that, but that would bring up spoilers for the sequel.
Apr. 1st, 2013 03:39 am (UTC)
so there's going to be a sequel......
I'm not familiar with Once Upon a Time, so wasn't sure how much that affected my understanding of the story. Now I know you're continuing it and will explain more later. Really liked the development of Rachel's and Puck's relationship.
Apr. 1st, 2013 09:05 am (UTC)
Re: so there's going to be a sequel......
OK, here's what you need to know about Once Upon a Time: Snow White's evil stepmother cast a spell that took away all of the happy endings for all of the fairy tales and sent them all to a small town in Maine, in our world. Lots of other details, but for the purposes of this story that's all you need.

There will be a sequel, just as soon as I can see season two of OUaT.
Apr. 1st, 2013 10:04 am (UTC)
I, like whitesheepcbd, have also never seen OUAT (it's been one of those things I'd intended to start and never got round) and your description below helped me to get my head around the world a little more, but I felt like I really understood the story without having seen it. The blending of the two worlds worked really well, and I loved how you took elements of the Glee canon and worked it into the situations of some of the OUAT characters. I think the only place we might have differed is that, while I'm aware that there's an OUAT character called Emma, I always imagined Pillsbury instead! It was a great read, and I loved how you took the art and interpreted it in this way.
Apr. 2nd, 2013 04:18 am (UTC)
I love the fic, and I am beyond thrilled I was able to be an inspiration for one. Thank you, thank you!!
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