#a relative gave me a stanley cup for christmas thinking i would know what it was but they underestimated how much of a rock i live under

[pain-tool-sai]

this image suddenly came to my mind and i had to draw it (stanley cup collection)

[welllpthisishappening]

Hey! I absolutely love the blue line series, I’m obsessed with the actual Rangers because of this and your writing is wonderful. I was wondering if you write something about Robin, Regina and Roland’s relationship with Henry? Or anything about Henry’s life as a member of the Locksley-Mills family.

Of course, anon! So I was going to do some bullet points because I’ve got some thoughts and, like, Roland idolizes Henry when they’re growing up and Henry only ever wears a Jones jersey, but he plays center like Robin and he’s pretty good at hockey, even if he never goes pro and…I digress. I wrote some things instead. Time-wise, Henry’s 18 and getting ready to apply to college and here are some feelings. 

“Hello?”

Emma blinked, twisting her lip between her teeth and she wasn’t entirely prepared for the clipped tone on the other end of the phone.

“Emma,” Regina said, and she sat up straighter. The baby in her arms didn’t entirely appreciate that. “Emma,” Regina repeated. “I can see your name on the caller ID. I know it’s you. Unless it’s Matt and then Matt, I need you to give your mom back your phone. And tell your dad to respond to my e-mails.”

“What e-mails?” Emma asked.

“I knew it was you.”

“Are you negotiating endorsements with my four year old?”

“Certainly not if I can help it.”

Emma laughed under her breath, mumbling a string of nonsense into the tiny bit of dark hair in her arms and she was fairly positive her left leg was going to go numb. They had a game later that night – a few weeks removed from Christmas and Peggy’s first birthday and Emma had spent the majority of the day organizing several Garden of Dreams holiday-themed events, while trying to make sure that the towel on her shoulder stayed on her shoulder.

And reading Henry’s college application essay.

And not crying over Henry’s college application essay.

Which was why she’d twisted herself into an intricate human pretzel and called Regina, several tear-stained pages on her desk.

She’d totally failed on that whole not crying thing.

“Emma,” Regina muttered, and it was clear her patience was wearing thin. “Did you call me to discuss your husband’s endorsement deals? Because there’s a commercial that’s available and they want to use the entire first line and—“

“—No, no, I didn’t,” Emma interrupted. She could almost see Regina’s eyebrows jump, and Peggy made a noise that might have been a gurgle. The towel was working harder than any professional hockey player would that night.

“Then what’s going on?”

Emma grimaced – and she was sure Regina’s eyes widened and her lips probably thinned and they weren’t really the best of friends, but Regina did regularly influence the amount of money coming into the Swan-Jones household and Emma was, at least, ninety-six percent positive half of Matt’s clothes were in Roland’s room and…

“I do have a meeting in ten minutes,” Regina said sharply, and Emma clicked her teeth in frustration. “So unless someone is dying or there’s a career-ending injury I need to be aware of, then…”

“Oh my God, Gina, it’s nothing like that.”

Emma assumed she did something ridiculous with her face again. Probably glared at open air. And negotiated that commercial deal. Emma would have to mention that to Killian.

He was absolutely ignoring his e-mail.

“Then what’s going on?” Regina asked, voice not quite as sharp and, maybe, a little cautious, and Emma tried to take a deep breath through her nose.

Peggy made that noise again.

“Henry gave me his college application essay,” Emma said, rushing over the words and there were tears in her eyes again. What a goddamn disaster. She hoped they won later.

“Oh.”

Emma waited for the rest of it – the questions or comments or pointed opinions – but there was just silence. Or, relative silence. Peggy gurgled.

“Regina,” Emma mumbled, met with a sound that might have been a grunt or possibly a huff and she was going to have to make a list of all the things she had to tell Killian about this conversation.

“Still here,” she whispered. She sounded disappointed. “Were you just calling to tell me?”

“No, no, this is…I promise it’s good.”

More silence.

More gurgling.

“I’m serious,” Emma added, digging her heels into her office carpet and she heard the ding of Regina’s computer from several blocks downtown.

“Did you e-mail me this?”

“Yes.”

“Why? If Henry gave it to you then—“

“Oh my God, Regina, just read it. I swear this is a good thing.”

Regina hummed in disbelief, and there was the pointed opinion Emma had been waiting for. It took, by her count, forty-eight and a half seconds for Regina’s breath to audibly catch and mumble a quiet oh under her breath and she must have been some kind of speed reader.

And then Regina sniffled.

That was suddenly point number one on the list of things Emma had to tell Killian. Before the game.

“Henry wrote this?” Regina asked softly, and Emma nodded, well aware that the only person who could see her was a nearly-one-year-old baby who was already wearing a Jones jersey and yanking on a Stanley Cup ring with a surprising amount of strength.

“That’s why I figured you should read it.”

“Right, right, right, that’s um…thank you.”

Emma hummed, eyes flitting back to the sheets she’d printed out hours before. He was going to send it half a dozen schools – something about a guidance counselor’s advice and what was supposed to happen and Emma didn’t have much to add, just promised she’d read it and then she cried when she read it and, well, now she was pretty positive Regina was crying too.

When I was five years old, the foster home I was living in lost its cable subscription. I don’t know why. I’m not even sure the people running the house knew why, but it happened and there was no more Disney channel and no more Nickelodeon and the only thing to watch on a Sunday afternoon were over the air channels.

And the only thing on over the air channels on a Sunday afternoon was hockey.

New York Rangers hockey.

I should probably thank whoever forgot to pay that cable bill because that game changed my life.

I watched the game. I had no idea what was going on. It didn’t matter. I watched, and ignored the other kids and how much they wanted to watch Power Rangers instead, and when I turned ten I got my first Killian Jones jersey.

I never thought much about having a family.

Those kinds of thoughts were dangerous in foster homes – places where kids weren’t wanted or needed or, sometimes, even remembered. So I pushed those wants and those hopes into the back corner of my mind and figured if the Rangers could, eventually, win a Stanley Cup it was, basically, the same thing.

But then something happened.

A few weeks before I turned twelve, a call came to the house. There was an event. At Madison Square Garden. And I was going.

I cried.

The kids made fun of me, but they always made fun of how loudly I cheered during games, so it wasn’t much different. I went to the Garden and a woman named Emma Swan changed my life. She introduced me to Killian Jones and Killian Jones introduced me to the entire New York Rangers roster and, even though I didn’t know it at the time, I met my family that day.

I still didn’t think about it much, couldn’t let myself hope or dream, but the Rangers kept winning games and I kept watching and suddenly I wasn’t just cheering for hockey, I was part of hockey and part of a team and I never left.

Emma Swan changed my life. Killian Jones changed my life. But my parents saved my life.

Robin Locksley currently owns the Rangers all-time face-off win record. Regina Mills-Locksley currently dictates the contracts of nearly a dozen NHL stars and will, probably, get the entire Rangers first line another commercial deal by the time you read this essay.

But, more than that, Robin and Regina took me into their home and made sure I stayed. They gave me a room. They bought me team-march. They didn’t mind when I kept wearing that ratty Jones jersey for years.

They loved me.

Love me. Present tense.

I’m lucky. Incredibly so. Unbelievably so. The New York Rangers saved the foster home I grew up in; made sure the other kids who weren’t as lucky wouldn’t get shipped around the country or away from their friends when budget cuts threaten to do just that. The New York Rangers won the Stanley Cup. Twice. And I was there. Twice.

I’m lucky, but more than that I’m happy - and it wouldn’t have been possible without my mom or my dad or my brother or that entire hockey team that adopted me. That loves me. And I love ‘em right back.

That’d probably get me made fun of in the house again, but I’ll keep cheering anyway and keep believing and the Rangers are going to win another Cup. 

Soon.

There was more – more words and more feelings and Emma couldn’t read it again, because she really did have to get ready for the game, but Regina was silent again on the other end.

“If I ask if you’re still here are you going to retract Killian’s commercial offer?” Emma asked, not entirely expecting Regina’s quiet laugh.

“No, he’s the focus of the whole goddamn thing. Don’t tell Scarlet that.”

“I’m totally going to tell Scarlet that.”

“Ah, well, that might be good for his ego.” Emma hummed, waiting for the rest of it and determined not to ask anything else, and she was almost hopeful Peggy had fallen asleep. She had a few assumptions though. And maybe a bit of hope. “That’s the first time he’s used those words,” Regina said, answering the question Emma hadn’t asked. “I know you were wondering, so, there.”

“So there?”

“Yes, exactly that.”

Emma scoffed, Regina exhaling like it was the first time she’d ever done anything like that. “You guys haven’t…”

“It wasn’t…” Regina, started, cutting herself off quickly, and they seriously had to win. Maybe that should have been number one on the list of things to tell Killian. “It was just a label and words and letters and I’ve…Robin and I are Henry’s parents. We have been since we signed those papers and I just…”

She sniffled again, and this whole conversation was a fantastic exercise in patience and emotion. “I always kind of wondered how it’d sound though,” she whispered.

“Pretty damn good,” Emma said.

“Yeah, yeah, it does.”

“He’s going to get accepted to every single college he applies to so you should really work on that commercial thing for the money or whatever.”

“Those are absolutely the technical terms,” Regina laughed, any tension in her voice disappearing. “Tell your husband to answer my e-mails.”

“Tell your kid he made me cry. More than one.”

“Deal.”

The Rangers won. And Robin scored. And there was probably some kind of fate involved in that, but this was the kind of team that won Stanley Cups and gold medals and team wasn’t really the right word anyway because it was a family and that was stupid emotional.

And years later, after more stories and that guaranteed championship, Henry asked Ella to marry him, bent on one knee with that family he’d never allowed himself to hope for around him and a ring pinched in between his fingers.

“It’s my mom’s,” he said, and Regina’s gaze flitted towards Emma’s, tears in her eyes and a smile on her face and Henry’s whole life changed all over again.