After a ludicrously (that's probably spelled wrong but whatever) long absence, here I am, and here is the rewrite, to anyone who read the first fanfic I posted.

Again, reviews are appreciated and might get a PM back or something. Flames will get rolled eyes and be deleted. At least try to be nice, since I am kind of sensitive *cowers*

Disclaimer: I'm not Tim Burton. ='[ More than enough said.

I sat alone in a half lit, dusty room: mine, even though there was very little to make it distinguishable from any other room in the orphanage.

The world went wearily by outside the window: impersonal horses and carriages ignoring the young beggars not even fortunate to have a place here.

Sometimes I felt like that, the two story brick building I lived in, was the universe's center, and the dingy side streets around it were belts of stars and planets orbiting it. The children living here were stars who'd fallen away and didn't know their way back. They never stopped wanting to return to it, but inevitably stopped hoping to.

A knock on my door brought me back to the present. I looked up to see Miss Minerva, the old matron, standing in the doorway, a young man and woman behind her. Even I, with no social ties and as much place in society as the average beetle, recognized the man as James Pearson, a well-known aristocrat. The woman must have been his new wife. I felt a sudden hope, despite how unlikely this was to end well.

Miss Minerva stepped back to let them in. James's face was unreadable, his wife's timid and hopeful. She was wringing her hands: must have been the first time she's done this.

"James, Maria, this is Emily."she introduced. "Emily, this is James and Maria Pearson." Now that we all knew each other's names, she left the rest of the introduction to us.

"Erm. . . hello." For once my shyness was real rather than a technique to make me appear milder mannered.

The Pearsons nodded in response. Maria, to my surprise, was the first to speak. "Have you. . . been here your whole life, Emily?"

"For as long as I can remember, yes." I didn't add that, according to Miss Minerva and some of the older children, my mother was found dead near here, holding onto me as though for dear life.

"And no one's taken you in?" James asked.

Obviously. I shook my head. " I don't know what it is. I'm not a bad child, really, or at least I don't think I am."

"Neither do I." Miss Minerva interjected. "In all the years she's been here, she's never gotten into a fight with anyone. Always does what she's told and doesn't make a fuss."

"Uh- huh." James nodded. "So other than being compliant and meek, what do you like to do?"

"Reading mostly. I like to play the piano, too, and I'm not that bad at it."

"She forgot to tell you how modest she is." Miss Minerva interrupted again. "She's very good at the piano, and has quite a nice singing voice, too."

They looked at me as if asking me to confirm all this, so I nodded, slightly warm in the face, trying to keep from smiling."

A few moments silence, and then. "Well, if that's all you two need to know, then I'll have you come with me."

Me face fell as they left. I just knew that it had gone wrong in some way I'd never figure out. I knew what would happen next. Miss Minerva would come in, attempting and failing not to look crestfallen. "You just weren't what they expected."she'd say. "I'm sure that next time. . . "

I would stop listening at that point, if I hadn't already. Even if there was a next time, it would end in just the same way. I wasn't old enough to be sent away from this place, but already too old for anyone to want me as their child, no matters how many 'next times' there were.

The door opened again. Miss Minerva stared at the ground, followed, oddly, by the Pearsons.

"Emily,"she began, the emotion in her voice unplaceable. "I'd like you to say hello to your parents."

"What?" Slowly I look up at them.

"Exactly what she said." Maria answers. "I don't know what it is, but I had this odd feeling a soon as we met you. I just sort of knew you were the one for us."

"It still has to be finalized, but by the end of the week you'll be living with us."

I stare into their faces, searching for any sign that they're lying or I am dreaming.

Finding none, my face breaks into a smile.

So that was the first chapter.

Hopefully it was okay, or at least a little better than the old version of it. I'm 99% sure this was a very rare scenario back then, but I never claimed to be writing realistic fiction, and as much as I tried to think of a different past for Emily, I failed. This was all that was in my head.

Anyway, hopefully that wasn't too bad. More coming (if anyone wants more, that is) the next time I can get to the internet.