The dwarf hammer hadn't worked. It lay in pieces just to the side of where Excalibur stood, still encased in stone, taunting her. If only you were enough…if only you were still the Savior…
The damned Savior. She had held that title for far too long. Why she even imagined it fit her was not something she could currently fathom. It's been a thorn in her side, something she was made into and not something that was truly her. She had been abandoned, tossed aside, left to make her own way in the world, alone and scared.
And she had made it.
She was damned well still making it.
"Well, you're not quite making it, are you?" It pops up again. It. She refuses to think of it as a human being. It looks like Rumplestiltskin…or rather some sort of Rumplestiltskin gone wrong, with his creepy eyes and wild hair and that crocodile skin he seems to wear with pride. But she knows it's not him. It can't be. He's left in a coma, fighting for his life. So this thing is nothing more than an it. A creature sent to torture her. It says it's the manifestation of the darkness taking the form she's most familiar with. And she wishes it might take a new form, maybe that Gorgon fellow. Seriously. Anything is better than Rumplestiltskin's form. Especially with those giggles and that weird high pitched voice of his.
She swings the ax at it. Again. The ax has no head on it anymore, that having been destroyed on the first go around, but it feels good anyway when the creature disappears.
"So wake him," it says from behind her. Too close. A seductive whisper in her ear, all shadows and darkness and manipulation.
She hesitates, watching the prone form of the real Rumplestiltskin. She's not even sure he's breathing, though she recalls a magical stasis field being used. Perhaps he doesn't need to breath while in such a state. He's a sleeping beast. Waking him is certainly on the table. But not just yet. "I'm not ready."
The creature that resembles the pawn broker in only the most superficial of ways rolls its eyes and walks away.
"Did you really dress like that?" Emma murmurs. She refuses to notice the way the leather hugs its ass or the way it very nearly struts as it moves away from her.
It turns back. "You mean did he really dress like this?" There's a sneer there. "Do you like it?" It pauses and she can almost see the wheels turning in its non-existent brain. "Or perhaps you might like this?" And then he's transformed. He's Killian. Leaning toward her, that seductive grin she knows so well and loves so much pressing close.
She smiles.
And then there's a knock at the door and she snaps out of it. "Stop that," she snarls at the creature. "Don't ever do that." She has her dagger in hand before she can even think and slices through the illusion. With a giggle, it transforms back to Rumplestiltskin's scaly form. "Now leave!" The last words she shouts as she turned away and is pleased to feel the pressure on her mind dissipate.
For the moment.
It will return.
It always does, haunting her nightmares and this strange waking reality she finds herself in. It is always there. She creates dreamcatcher after dreamcatcher and nothing pulls it out of her mind. Nothing.
And so she shudders, tucks the dagger in close to the sword still embedded in its stone prisonand leaves her little basement hideaway, leaves the mystery of Excalibur, leaves the former Dark One still locked in his magical stasis.
The knocking on the door becomes even more insistent and she's sure she hears voices. With a flick of her wrist, the door flies open and something falls inside. Well, someone. Belle.
"Where is he?" the smaller woman shouts as she gets to her feet. Speaking of impractical heels. She's always wondered how Belle gets around in such things, especially without magic to keep her poise and balance.
Of course, Gold probably…
"I know you have him." Belle's finger is raised and not far from Emma's nose. The woman is bold. But she supposes she did marry the former Dark One.
"Yes of course you'd assume that," Emma says. She leans against the wall, crosses her arms over her chest, raises one eyebrow.
"Because it's true," Belle spits out. Her face is contorted strangely. Anger and hope warring for dominance.
"Well, I don't," Emma answers, picking a piece of non-existent lint off the arm of her jacket.
"You have him!" It's not Belle that speaks this time. It's another voice. Loud. Strident. She's never heard it before and she's close to simply waving her hand and making them all go away when her eyes focus on it.
It.
It is most definitely an it. "What the hell is that?"
It comes careening in between Belle, skidding to a stop just before it knocks the tiny woman over. And Belle turns to look at it and she looks exasperated. Not scared. Not even angry. Just…annoyed.
"Stanley!" she shouts, like it's an errant child. "I told you to stay at the shop."
"She has Rumplestiltskin!" it shouts.
"Quiet!" Emma hisses. She can't think like this. Belle is shouting at that thing. And that thing is shouting at her and there are voices in her head, beating at her mind, a near-constant murmur that pushes at the inside of her skull, like a thousand fire ants that want to crawl out through her eyes and ears and nose.
"Emma," comes Belle's voice and she holds up a hand to ward her off. When she looks, Belle has been pulled back against the wall, trapped. She's not silent though. No one is silent. No one knows how to be silent. Not in Storybrooke. "Let him go, Emma," Belle says.
"I…"
"Let her go!" comes the voice of that…thing.
"Seriously?" Emma says and she turns to look at it. "Just what the hell are you exactly?"
"He's Stan."
The voice that comes from behind her makes her go stiff with shock. She whips around, her entire body stiffening. "You…"
"Rumple!" she hears Belle shout and watches his eyes flicker to her for just a moment.
"How did I 'wake up' as it were?" Rumplestiltskin is there, leaning against the wall, as if he owns the place. As if he's more Dark One than she is. He's still in his slightly disheveled suit. But he's awake and alive.
"You…" Emma starts to say. But she doesn't get far. Not further than one step toward him, hand up, before she's simply assaulted. If that's the word she can use. One moment she's watching Rumplestiltskin through narrowed eyes and the next moment her whole world is brought down to can I breathe? And worse still, she's enveloped in something sticky and smelly and oh dear Gods that thing is on her. "Gold…" she tries to say but the words are swallowed by something so vile that she doesn't even want to think about what she just inhaled.
She tries to raise a hand, she needs to get it off of her. But she can't move.
And it's not because that thing is wrapped around her.
"Wh…"
"Oh, did you want this?" And then she knows. She can't see anything but the orange bulbous body of the creature that has attacked her, but she knows. And Rumplestiltskin's voice is so quiet, so calm. Deadly calm. "Free her," he says and there's no doubt what he means.
She feels the pull of the magic
She cannot resist it.
Her hand comes free. Somehow. She couldn't a moment ago but maybe that was because he held the dagger and held her in thrall.
Emma Swan.
The Dark One.
Enthralled to Rumplestiltskin, former Dark One.
And encased in…something.
A moment later she hears Belle shout his name again and then sounds. Sounds she'd really rather forget. The sound of lips against lips, a small moan. She's not even sure whose, really, and doesn't want to know. For once she's glad that she's surrounded by that gigantic thing. She can't see, even if she can hear every little tiny thing coming from them.
"Uh…" she manages to get out but is quickly interrupted by a somewhat exasperated sounding Rumplestiltskin.
"Yes dearie?"
"Wha…"
"Ah yes. Miss Swan, meet Stan. Stan, Miss Swan. Or the Dark One, whatever you want to call her." There's a sort of amused sarcasm in the voice and Emma is pretty sure she hears Belle giggle. "He comes with the territory, you know."
"Hi Emma!" the thing that surrounds her says.
She can't quite get a word out.
"What was that?" she hears Rumplestiltskin say.
"Rumple," Belle responds with.
All Emma can manage is a small gurgle.
"Oh fine." And she's pretty sure he's grumbling something at Belle. "I'll make you a deal, dearie." His voice is closer now.
The dramatic pause. She forgot how good Rumplestiltskin was at such things.
"Oh Rumple, just get it over with." Belle again. And she's not sure if she's annoyed or amused. Maybe both.
"I'm getting to it," he grumbles. "You let us go. And leave us alone. Forever. And you? You get the dagger back. And I take Stan with me."
"Deal," she says before she can even think about it. What choice does she have, really.
"Come on, Stan," Rumplestiltskin says, calm as can be, and doesn't the creature just pull away from her. With this awful sucking noise. She's sure she's covered in its goo. Yes, she realizes, looking down at her formerly pristine outfit and finding it simply…ugh…
Emma clears her throat.
"Yes yes of course." He turns the dagger in his hands and she watches as he pauses. She's not sure if the look on his face is wistful, disbelieving, or maybe a little bit of shock still at finding someone else's name on the dagger that had been his for so long. He glances at Belle and she can see it there, almost palpable. Love.
And then he gives a tight smile and tosses the dagger to her. She catches it with ease. Never the most graceful of girls, often gangly and awkward in her youth, she still can't believe the kind of reflexes that being the Dark One gives her. She revels in it. She can understand why Rumplestiltskin did too.
"Thanks," she says softly and allows the magic to remove all that goo from the leather she has chosen to encase herself in, a sort of armor against all that is good in the world.
She watches the pair, no…the trio…for that thing with Rumplestiltskin is watching her with great big eyes too. With a wave of her hand they're gone from the room, disappearing into a wisp of grey and white smoke.
"Well, there goes that hero." She cringes at the return of its voice.
"Better a new hero than that…that…overgrown calamari."
The apparition giggles. "I believe that's squid, dearie."
"And just what the hell was that thing anyway?" She shudders at the memory.
"I'm fairly certain it was some sort of octopus," the apparition says with a shrug.
Emma shudders again. "Leave me." The apparition gives another little shrug and blinks out of existence. She can feel it leave. Even if she couldn't see it. She can feel it, like there's a sort of pressure released from her mind. "I think I need a shower," she mutters before disappearing herself.