Poor Unfortunate Soul (An OUAT Fanfiction)

2: Sing Sweet Nightengale

Storybrooke

Emma Swann pulled into the yard of Marine Garage, Storybrooke's combination service and gas station and fish market. A strange combination, to be sure, but the Garage's situation near the edge of town, with the front end easily accessible from the main road and the back end (where they operated their fish business) within sight of the docks, it was perfectly adequate.

No one came right away; there were several customers already, keeping the likes of Mike Tillman and his son Nick running back and forth and towing cars.

Emma didn't mind the wait; it gave her time to think.

Her son, Henry, had been legally adopted by the mayor of this strange little town, Regina Mills. Henry had come all the way to Boston to bring Emma to Storybrooke, and since her arrival Fate seemed to take pleasure in defying every attempt to leave, instead giving her more and more reasons to stay: first Henry, then various emergencies...And now I'm the Sheriff, Emma thought to herself.

It might be bearable, she decided not long ago, if everyone did not seem to be hiding something sinister that they were themselves not even aware of—and if Henry would stop insisting that they were all fairy-tale characters under a terrible curse that made them normal people. Apparently, this made Regina the Evil Witch Queen from so many of those stories; Emma smirked to herself. I'd believe it, she thought. For some reason, Mayor Mills seemed to have it in for her since she first returned with Henry; initially, Emma assumed it was jealousy because she was Henry's biological mother, and Regina was just the step-mom, but recently Emma had been picking up vibes of something deeper, something much more ominous. This whole town was just too creepy!

She jerked at a knock on her window.
"G'morning, Sheriff," Trenton Anderson greeted her as she opened it. "What can we do for you?"

Emma smiled, "Just the basics today, Trenton."

He nodded and eyed the cars pulling in behind her. "All right, I'll get you going right away. Hilary!" He turned back to the garage and hollered. When he received no reply, he cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered, "HILARY!" He shook his head. "Where is that girl?"

She emerged, red hair pulled back into a ponytail, sleeves and front slightly damp from loading the freezers with fresh-caught fish.

"Coming, Dad!" she called when they saw each other.

Trenton was already greeting the next customer.

Emma smiled as Hilary approached her window. "Hi, Sheriff Swann. Basic tunes today?"

Emma nodded, "Yes; and, please, it's Emma."

Hilary froze with the gas nozzle still in her hand. She looked very embarrassed. "I'm sorry," she whimpered.

Emma laughed it off, "Don't worry; I'm not offended."

Hilary nodded and went about her duties. "Pop the hood?" she asked Emma. Methodically, she checked fluid levels and belt conditions. "Looks like your oil could use a top-off," she remarked, moving to the station between the gas pumps where extra oil cans and funnels were kept.

Emma, sitting in her car, heard soft strains of a singer's voice singing a familiar song. Her hand instinctively went for the ignition; had she left the car on? The keys rested on the passenger seat, like normal. Where was the music coming from?

As Hilary closed the hood and moved to the gas nozzle, Emma realized that the stunning voice was hers. Hilary was singing as she worked.

"Wow," she remarked.

Hilary stopped and looked up. "What?"

Emma grinned, "You have an amazing voice!"

Hilary blushed. "Thank you," she mumbled.

"I heard your dad saying the other day that you are getting ready to graduate high school. Are you looking at music schools for college options?"

Hilary removed the nozzle and replaced the cap on the gas tank. She shrugged, "Well, I've been saving for Julliard ever since I started earning money."

"Yeah? How's that going?"

Hilary glanced toward the garage, where everyone was working as hard as they could. Only she could see the losing battle they fought with each dollar they brought in.

"Still saving," she told Emma.

"How's the fishing these days?" Emma asked as Hilary began cleaning her windshield and bug-laden front grill.

Hilary grimaced at the sight of two huge dragonflies caught in the bumper. "Not well," she lowered her voice and moved closer to Emma. "I worry about Dad sometimes; he started the Garage to supplement the small income he got from the real family business, the fishing. Lately, though, the garage just keeps sucking more money, and the fishing just isn't what it used to be."

"Bad season?" Emma asked with a frown.

"You could say that," Hilary gave the windshield a good rub-down. "Frankly, though, I think it's because of the commercial trawlers."

"So close to shore? I thought the Storybrooke marine borders extended further than that."

"The Mayor authorized the issue of a permit allowing them to move the buoys," Hilary explained. "Their lines get snagged with ours, and when they're separated, their nets are whole, and ours are in tatters. They go in during our peak Garage hours and sweep up all the fish before we can get the boats back in the water. The other fishermen here all have supplemental jobs that end up paying for the higher fees and extra permits that keep cropping up, leaving less and less for us to survive on." She stopped and rubbed a hand over her forehead. "I'm sorry; I'm talking too much."

"Hilary!" Emma's face as well as her voice was filled with concern. "You said exactly what you meant. I can go to the mayor about—"

"No!" Hilary clutched Emma's arm. "Please! All we want is to be left alone; we don't want any more trouble than we already have. The best we can hope for is to hope it all blows over eventually."

Emma laid a hand on the cold, white one clutching her arm. "We? What about you, Hilary? What about Julliard?"

Hilary set her chin. "I'll find a way, Emma. I don't know when, I don't know how, but watch and you'll see: Someday I'm going to leave this dull and dreary world behind and fly away to a better place!"

Emma took one look at that resolute face, and any doubts she had for the young woman's capacity to do all she said disappeared.

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