note in advance: I sort of don't know what I'm doing. That is all.

In the Flicker: Chapter 1

Hope was something you were supposed to have when there was nothing left. Throughout the centuries, in literature, fairytales, and in the overall notion of life itself, hope was held by the victims of suffering, ones who deserved everything but instead received a giant hole in their hearts and nothing to put inside. It was the last candle still flickering in the dark when the wind of cruel fate had blown out the rest. Hope was painted as a tragic beauty, rendering the one who hoped a tragic hero, pure and a victim of circumstance. It was meant to be beautiful, to be wonderful.

But the hope that Regina had was mangled, twisted, abused and abusive; something of another nature, different from the candle that still lit as the blackness ensued. The fire was supposed to light the way, not burn everyone in its path – including her.

This flame manifested when the purple storm had swept Storybrooke into darkness, it's crashing rumble engulfing the town and it's thick foggy arms seeming to wrap around the very surface of the earth. As she observed through her window that might as well have been her cage, she accepted this turn of events. Regina had no way of being sure that what would happen would be to her advantage, but wherever there was magic, there was power. Once she had that again, she could do so much more.

The storm came closer.

"Please," her lips seemed to mouth as she closed her eyes, waiting for the dark purple fog wrap itself around the walls of her home, seep into them, and then engulf her to take her away where she would have another chance to win.

But when it came, the corrupt flame gathered and welled up inside, concentrated in her chest. It ached as if claws had dug into the insides. And upon that came the realization: she was doomed.

When Emma opened her eyes, everything remained as it was before. The fog that rumbled across the entire town stung upon contact, making the very insides of Emma's soul sway.

Henry was still with her. Dr. Whale, Mother Superior, the nurses did not sprout wings or turn into mythical creatures.

Everything in Emma's head was beginning to spin in a slow lull. "Well?" she asked. "What the hell was that?"

Henry, still very astonished by the experience, merely shrugged. "I...I don't know."

Things looked the same. Things felt the same – more or less, if you disregarded the fact that everyone in town had assumed their original person. But it wasn't right.

"Henry, you stay here," Emma said to him, preparing to go outside.

"But-"

"No! You stay. I'll be back."

When Emma exited the hospital, she found that the sky was a lot grayer. The very air had changed, and if you closed your eyes, you could easily imagine yourself in a den of fairies-which was something Emma didn't know if she liked or not.

Everyone in Storybrooke had formed small clumps, each varying from rejoicing with each other, checking if they were okay, some plain ticked off and ready for the Queen's blood.

"Hey." A voice chimed in. Emma was unable to determine where it was coming from.

"Emma!" it came again.

"What? Who is this? Where are you?" She spun around, looking up and down, all the while feeling downright ridiculous.

She felt something tingle on her shoulder. When she looked, she could not comprehend what she had seen.

"No goddamn way."

"Language, Princess Emma," the cricket said.

"Uh-uh, no," Emma refused to accept, but not wanting to flick it—him, what the goddamn ever—off her shoulder, or even touch it. Him. "Archie?"

"Jiminy."

"Wow, okay, no." Emma brought herself to gently pick Archie off her shoulder and placed him with the next person she saw. "Ruby! Hold Archie for me."

"Red, actually," Red said to Emma before she turned away. Emma knit her eyebrows in confusion, then noticed the red cloak around Ruby.

She opened her mouth to say something along the lines of "no fucking way," but instead tried a pathetic smile and replied, "Got it."

When Emma returned, Henry was hastily having soup, hungry from not having eaten when he was comatose. His stomach was still a bit fragile, as were the rest of his organs – after all, he had been dead for about two minutes. Magic had a hand in springing them back to life but magic could not manipulate biology.

"Are you okay?" Emma asked him as she sat down in a chair next to his bed, even though that question was not the first one she wanted to ask (which was probably bad of her as his mother, but given that the entire town of Storybrooke had flipped its shit, it was understandable.)

"Yeah," he said. Then coughed roughly. Emma blew air out of her cheeks.

"Got any ideas?"

Henry swallowed his soup. "For?"

"Well, this," Emma gestured. "Archie's a cricket. Ruby now goes by Red. My real parents are probably going to bust inside here and I don't know if I'm ready for that. Just... how? You're the expert, tell me."

Henry shrugged. Right, Emma thought. The child had been passed out and dead while she and Regina had been off pulling that mission and-

"Where's Regina?" Emma finally bothered to ask.

The question had also brought several things to Henry's attention. He subtly went paler than he had been as he looked up at Emma.

"If magic is in Storybrooke, that means mom has..." Henry trailed off. The word "mom" felt strange in his mouth knowing that Regina was now fully the evil queen he had accused her of being.

Emma saw the internal struggle happening on Henry's face. It was suddenly quiet.

She wished she could've left. Took Henry and went off, left this place once and for all. But she knew if she even proposed such an idea Henry would protest. She was the savior, and people still needed saving. What a tired load of shit. Slicing open a fire-breathing dragon and breaking part of the curse should've been enough.

Then Emma remembered another thing, the very reason that she and Regina had worked together to save Henry in the first place.

"Gold," she said, "he stole- but-"

"Stole what?"

"He took this... this I don't know, true love in a bottle. I had to fight a dragon 'cause-"

"Whoa, you what?" Henry said excitedly, almost spilling his now lukewarm soup, and then coughing a bit more.

"Look, never mind, I'm going to find your mother." Emma stood up, scooting the chair back when a woman turned up into the room.

The air thickened.

"Oh, but darling," the woman said, a sickly red smile plastered on her face. "As I understand it, you are his mother."

She was dressed in dark red, obviously not from town - or this time period - or this world, for that matter.

Henry shivered. Emma stood defensively. "And you are?"

The woman strode with eerie grace toward Emma, holding out her hand. "Cora Mills. You said you were going to find my daughter?"