Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

For days, the woods smelled of rotting giant. It lingered in everyone’s senses, along with the dirt and sweat.

Four exhausted humans stood to watch the sunrise. All of their clothes were stripped to rags so the breeze nipped at their skin. The sky was a tapestry of colors and for once, the woods didn’t seem so scary. The trees reached for the heavens and the earth was alive with creatures and plants. The world’s weight pushed down on the shoulders of the mixed-up group.

The Baker held his prize, wrapped in his wife’s shawl, close to his chest. Whining, the baby smiled up at the Baker’s face and oh, how he wished he could smile back. But he was falling apart because the woods had claimed the one who kept him together. The Baker might have stayed frozen there if there had not been four people depending on him. Waves of nausea and fear washed over him.

So, he allowed himself to sob. It was a mighty cry that echoed through the woods, a cry that made shivers run down the spine. A man who had lost it all yet still hadn’t run because he had more to love, even though it hurt to try. He bent over as he choked, twisting around the baby.

The children, Jack and Red, leaned into each other. The sunlight hit Jack’s wide eyes and his lips stretched from one ear to another. He was giddy from the giant’s fall but as the baker wept, tears poured down his own cheeks. He rubbed them away with his grimy hands, but they kept coming. To prevent a howl from escaping his mouth, Jack bit his lip until he became familiar with the taste of blood.

Jack tried so hard to be strong. He stole, killed two giants, and scaled a beanstalk. He had murdered, brought fortune, and then he lost his mother. Where was his innocence? It seemed like it was just as dead as everything else in the woods.

Right beside Jack, Little Red tightly clenched the fabric of her skirt. Snot dripped from her nose and her ruddy cheeks burned. Unusually, she couldn’t speak. Nothing snappy or sharp. It could be dangerous if she spoke a word aloud.

Instead, she felt. Overwhelming anger took over her thoughts. There was bitter in her veins and fire in her heart. She hated the woods. She hated the people and creatures who hurt others. For a long second, she hated the world. Nothing was good and a lot was “nice”.

It was time she protected something, some people. She would stuff all that feeling into having both a bark and a bite. Rather than clenching her fist, she held Jack’s dirty hand. Tighter than before.

The last one glanced around at her companions. Her grief came in sighs to the birds and sky. Cinderella knew the feeling so well that it was her friend. Yes, she could mourn some more.

Yet she couldn’t anymore.

The woods had claimed enough of her tears. A whole tree had grown from them! Cinderella had let the grief lead her to this place and now she decided to take the lead.

Bending down, she rested a hand on the Baker’s shoulder and waited for his sobs to soften into sniffles. She took the baby out of his trembling arms, allowing him to calm down.

“It’s time to leave the woods,” she said to no one in particular. “As scary as that is. I wish… wishes could work and fix things. But we have to make the choice, so I chose to leave.” The child in her arms cooed at that. Everyone listened for a horrible sign from the woods. Could they go? Would it let them go?

Slowly, the Baker rose up. “There is nowhere to go. Our-my cottage is destroyed and there is no bread to sell. What will we do?”

“Then we rebuild with what we have.”

Red finally snapped, “what do we have left? There’s nothing. It’s all been smashed by the giant!” Jack, eyes watering, nodded. A dark cloud hung over the group, and it kept the warmth from them. Still, Cinderella hummed a small song to herself, swaying side to side.

“There is something,” muttered the Baker, “we have each other and the remains. Of our world. We will use what we have and if we don’t have anything, then we’ll find a way.”

“Together.” Jack whispered too, almost himself.

Cinderella pointed skyward then reassuringly squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “Onward! Out of the woods we go!” Red rolled her eyes at the cheesy declaration but started down a path. They all followed after her determined footsteps and the woods seemed to say goodbye. The flowers reached out, the trees bent over with melancholy, and the animals called.

It was time for their new story, daunting and exciting.

Chapter Text

The wreckage looked like ruins, already aged and buried. Jack lifted a snapped plank, for them all to see. The Baker couldn’t stop running his fingers through his hair, even when Cinderella tried to tug them out.

“My childhood, my life, all gone.” The Baker picked up shredded fabric that looked to be curtains and rubbed them between his fingers. He sat down in the floating dirt, numb with silence.

Jack and Red tried their best to start clearing the field shared between the Baker’s and Witch’s homes. When the widower slightly recovered, he took his child and whispered sweet words while Cinderella bent down to help.

“Do you think that Witch lady really would let us touch her garden,” asked Red, pointing at the patch of land. It was destroyed, plants pressed into the dirt and fallen stone from the wall scattered everywhere.

The Baker shrugged. “She said she would, remember? But is she even alive?”

“I think she is.” Everyone’s head swerved to look at Jack, who ducked his head in embarrassment.

The group remembered the Witch’s explosive exit as she shamed them and expressed her pain. She seemed gone but what could keep her from coming back?

“Let’s clean it up,” Cinderella decided, “I’m sure she would appreciate it if we did that. Then we’ll tend.”

They spent the day, clearing the wreckage and building camp, until the sun set. They collapsed beside each other underneath the dim stars. Jack fell asleep against Red, his mouth pressed shut in a small frown. Red was rigid with her knife and eyes surveying the neighbouring woods.

The Baker stared into space as he rocked his sleeping child. Sitting down next to him, Cinderella placed a cloak on his shoulders.

“You are a natural leader, my princess.” The Baker quietly said to Cinderella. She blushed, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Please call me Cinderella, I am not a princess anymore. I’m simply trying to keep everything together.”

He nodded. “I understand. I’m sorry I have been absent. It’s just hard. So much is gone.”

“But I can see so much more that can be done. You told us that. The broken wood can become a house. We can replant the plants. There is life here, I’m choosing to make it happen.”

The man sat back against a leaning tree and allowed her to ramble as she pointed out the possibilities around them. For the first time, he could be optimistic.

When the sun peeked over the horizon again, Cinderella called to the birds. A whole flurry of birds surrounded her, whispering news of the kingdom. Red, nose scrunched up in complete confusion, watched as Cinderella ordered the creatures.

“It doesn’t make sense,” she scoffed once they flew off. “What will they do?”

Cinderella gave her a wink. “Just wait.” In a matter of minutes, the swarm returned. They carried tools such as an axe and nails. Red screamed and almost ran back into the woods.

(“I don’t trust animals with sharp instruments.”)

Jack took the axe and set to work, chopping wood for a fire and the house. He gritted his teeth as he dug into the tree’s bark. Nonstop, he swung and swung. His lungs burned with effort.

It felt fantastic.

Until one tree refused to go down and he kept going, trying. But it wouldn’t work and the axe grew duller. It made him want to cry because if it didn’t work, everyone would be wrong.

“Jack.” Please. “Jack.” Just. “Jack!” Work.

“JACK!” Red shouted into his face, startling him. He almost dropped the axe onto his foot. “I’ve been calling you. You need to eat.”

She held up two dead rabbits and her knife. It was clear she caught them. Jack glanced between the pile of wood and his friend.

Jack said, “I can’t. I have to finish cutting the tree down.”

“No you don’t. You have been doing that all morning! Sit down, eat, and take a break with the baby.” She pointed behind her and glared. Jack gulped and set down the tool.

The baby boy giggled when he sat down. Jack couldn’t understand how the little being could be so happy yet Jack knew he had no idea what was going on.

The Baker stood a few feet away, scribbling away on a torn paper. He stared out over the land then went back to drawing. Cinderella tended to a small fire.

“Hello, Jack!” The boy quietly admitted to himself Cinderella was quite beautiful with her blinding smile and kind eyes. Mother would have liked her.

Soon everyone learned Little Red Riding Hood could not only hunt but also cook. They ate, feeling like royalty even though it was hardly a meal.

“Come on, little Vincent. You have to eat,” muttered the father as he fed the child.

Red asked, “is that his name?” The Baker nodded.

“It was her idea, honestly. Told me that if I had the curse, she got the name.” Cinderella let out a soft cooing sound.

Red snorted, “mmh. I’m still calling you baby.”

Jack shifted on his makeshift log chair, glancing over at the bitten tree. Red handed him more meat but his stomach coiled. Why was he eating when he had to fix things?

Out of the blue, someone talked to him. “Jack? Are you alright? You seem a bit out of it.” All he could do, not say, is shrug. Something touched him and he jumped up, mumbling about the large need for more wood.

The axe would never feel right in Jack’s calloused fingers but it was so powerful. So what if he wasn’t breathing. If sparse wood chips pierced his skin. He was helping.

By the fire, the two older people were examining the newly made house plans. Red paused in her task of cleaning rabbit skins, observing. She liked that she could do this, notice things no one would. She was like a bird of prey, ready to strike.

Jack hit a stump, over and over. It could have been funny but the look in his eyes sent shivers down her spine.

“I think something’s wrong with Jack. He’s cut enough wood for days.”

The Baker squinted, eyebrows furrowed with concern. Cinderella’s face twisted into a shaky smile. She got up and walked towards Jack. It was as if he was a figure on one of those cuckoo clocks, mechanical and stiff.

When the Baker stepped in front of the boy, a flash of recognition flashed across his face and he promptly dropped the axe. Cinderella screamed for Jack, sprinting to his side.

Red couldn’t see it at first but blood started to pool around his shoes, dripping from a cut on his leg. The adults were just panicking and shouting, which was evidently sending Jack into a mini panic. She ripped a piece of her skirt and tore away the stained fabric to wrap the wound. Internally, Red wished she could immediately clean it but Jack seemed to be frozen, stuck in shock.

“Back up,” she barked, “he needs space!” The Baker hesitated for a moment, but Red’s glare drove him away. The makeshift bandage barely held back the blood so she assisted Jack in sitting down.

Cinderella tried to find the little water they had and rushed it over to help clean the wound. Jack’s mouth remained agape as the women took care of him. He let them talk, words swirling around his head. In one ear and out the other.

“I’m so stupid,” Jack blurted out, halting the hurricane of speech. The pain made his head spin and he fell back. Unconscious.

The sky was black when he came to. Barely visible, stars shone at Jack. But the moon quietly calmed the night.

“You’re awake. Great!” It was the Baker, whose voice dripped with relief. “Are you okay? That was a nasty accident.”

Jack groaned and grunted. “I-I…. Am sorry.”

“No need to be sorry, my boy. You have done nothing wrong.”

“But I’m dumb Jack. I mess everything up and I’ll keep doing it because I’m Jack.” Big yet oh so small, Jack cried more. He was still a tiny human, squished by the world’s crushing foot.

A hand lifted his head and three sets of eyes gazed at him.

Cinderella tenderly pressed her lips against his forehead. The Baker cradled Jack’s head and ruffled his hair. Red just sat next to him, glowering.

“You are not dumb. You are kind and courageous and strong and smart in your own Jack way,” chuckled the Baker. “Mistakes can lead to better outcomes. We’re all learning that.”

Jack wanted to argue that everyone should think he was dumb. That’s what they told him. But his friends (family?) cared with such earnest.

“Really,” squeaked Jack.

“Yep.” “Of course!” “Uh yes! Remember that or else.”

Watery laughter filled the air, Jack’s confusion so apparent. Cinderella giggled, kissing his forehead softly, while stroking his hair.

“You’re not alone, Jack. Every hour I second-guess myself. I’m a coward, at least that’s what I think. But I stayed unlike my father,” assured the older man. “That’s enough for right now and you are doing enough.”

Red’s frown deepened and she turned her face away from Jack, concealed by the darkness.

“I was supposed to protect you. I was supposed to notice. I’m sorry.”

They waited for her to go on but Red seemed to shut down that conversation.

Until Jack piped up again. “You did. Please don’t be sorry, you are my friend.”

Red’s eyes watered and she reached for Jack’s hand, which grabbed for hers. She curled up beside him and whispered.

“You are my friend so you can’t be sorry. Understand?”

“Okay. I understand.”

Grins blossomed between the pair and they hugged each other so tightly that Jack had to groan from the pain. Red let go, glancing down at his injury. Then she squeezed him less hard.

Cinderella and the Baker allowed them to sleep, knowing all of their bones ached with exhaustion.

Under the stars, they drifted away into the deepest depths of their minds.