little whovian things


The last thing, Henry Mills expected when he opened the door, was to find a small child waiting on the other side. What came next, was even more unexpected. “Are you Henry Mills?” she asked. he got an odd sense of deja-vu from the entire situation, but he nodded, “yeah, yeah… who are you?” he had a feeling, he already knew what she was going to say. He just wanted to hear her say it. she smiled, a dimpled expression, “my name’s Lucy, and I’m your daughter!” Daughter? That was new. he might not have been a monk, but he was pretty sure he didn’t have a daughter. “I don’t have a daughter.” he told the child, she must mean another Henry Mills. Lucy just smiled again, and that was when he saw the book under her arm. No way. That wasn’t the book. it couldn’t be. He hadn’t seen that book for ten years, not since he left Storybrooke for the last time. It struck him then, why this whole thing felt so familiar. He did the same thing when he was ten. Lucy seemed unaware of the turmoil she had brought up in him, as she continued. “Yes you do, you need to come with me. Your family needs you.” she told him. Christ, this must be how Emma felt. he didn’t know how to react, this was impossible. Oh god, now the kid was pushing into his house. Exactly like he had all those years ago. “You got any juice?” Lucy called from his kitchen. Henry sighed, and closed the door behind her. “yeah, just do me a favor kid. Use a glass.”

Originally posted by glenn-rhee