A/N: Welcome! Putting up the disclaimer now that I do not own the show or the characters.
"...maybe you do not understand. You see, turning pages will bring us to the end of this book, and there is a monster at the end of this book..."
Snippets of conversation alternate between faint and distinct. Snow's lively reading of a children's book to Neal, Neal, gives way to Swan's voice, as all things tend to do, as she thinks out loud to Marian about heading to the station first thing in the morning to track down the woman's family. As hard as it had been to pull away from each other and head inside back to the party, the sudden bite in the air had been enough to make him wonder if Storybrooke is alive somehow, the magic permeating throughout the town sensing something and adjusting the weather accordingly.
Thinking about the next calamity when Emma's sitting next to you sipping her hot chocolate, he asks himself. Relax, Killian. He glances over at her since one would think the Savior would notice if something was up before he would, but her focus is on Marian...with her eyes darting ever so slightly in his direction, he notices with a smirk.
"The Evil Queen?" Marian asks, sheer panic on her face. Ah, that explains the chill, he thinks with a silent laugh.
"Wait. It's okay!" Emma springs up with her hand held out. "She's different now. She's not the same person anymore. You'll see. I'll...just stay here."
Not sure if he would have done that. The images of Regina storming into the ball wearing her murderous expression still stirred in his mind. Again, he has to shrug off some looming feeling. To Regina, all that happened almost thirty years ago.
"...she still thinks of you as..."
"Evil," Regina finishes for her, resignation heavy in her voice.
"I'm going to bring her over. I already told her that it's okay, but it's a little...delicate, and I feel like if she met you, she'll see."
"I understand."
Well, all right. He looks back over at Marian at the same time Emma returns to him, her hand on his shoulder. Thank your lucky stars, lass, he thinks as Marian inhales on her way up. That's as accommodating as it gets when it comes to Regina. Who knows? Maybe the two of them will slip into conversation, Regina will know precisely where the woman's family lives and, in an effort to be gracious, offer to show her the way, thus freeing up someone's day for other activities.
He watches Swan introduce her from his stool, trying to make it as far from awkward as possible.
"Regina, I'd like you to meet-"
"Marian?"
Robin leaps out of his seat as if it had been set on fire. There's no time to ponder how some woodsman thief knows her—one more utterance of her name enough to put anyone in the know.
"Robin?"
"I thought you were dead! I thought I'd never see you again!" He chokes on his words, gathering Marian to him and holding her with a vengeance.
Killian stills, his eyes somehow stuck on the unlikely reunion unfolding right before them that now includes...bloody hell...their child, stuck on Regina's cut reaction, and stuck on Swan's back. Rigid.
"You. You did this?" Regina's words, so full of accusation, hone in both his and Emma's concentration, her form snapping toward the other woman's direction.
"I just..wanted to save her life..."
"You're just like your mother. Never thinking of consequences!" Every noise in the background hushes as Regina's voice rises, himself even flinching.
"I didn't know," she tries.
"Of course you didn't! Well, you just better hope to hell you didn't bring anything else back!" Her jaw would unhinge from her skull if it could, the way she was setting it. She lifts her hands, fingers tensed into talons and for a split second, he's ready to jump off of the stool and deflect a ball of fire. Instead, she closes her eyes and charges right for the door.
Swan glances back at him, but it's too quick for him to tell her to hold off. She's out the door right after her. Robin takes Marian by the hand, her other one holding their son by the wrist... Now he jumps off the stool, weaving around guests to get to the door.
"Go ahead. We're right behind you."
He looks over his shoulder to find David close behind with a protective arm around Henry, Snow doing the baby equivalent for Neal.
"Good. You've learned to not waste time asking what's going on," he snaps.
"I'd say it's pretty obvious. Did you know? Did she know?"
"No."
David hustles over to him and gestures his head at the door, a request to go out first. It's easy to catch sight of Emma's hair in the slats between the blinds, off to the side of this family drama...love triangle...victims from beyond the grave...thing.
"Is everything okay?" Snow bustles as best she can out the door first, and even he doesn't have the heart to snark her attempt at diplomacy will fall on deaf ears, not when she's got her babe in her arms.
"No one's been incinerated yet, so that's a good sign," David half-sings, half-sighs.
"Regina, are you all right?"
All the confusion and emotions and rage prompt more words out of Marian than she had spoken all throughout their trip through the forest with her, being knocked out for some of it notwithstanding.
"Mom, what's going on?" Henry tries.
"She's a monster!" Marian snarls at her. Once again, he attempts to take in an alert scan of his entire surroundings, watching Regina strain herself to not lash out, on their little boy who must be confused out of his mind...and then everyone disperses. Marian drags their son off in one direction as Regina marches toward the street with her head down.
"Regina!" Emma calls after her. He catches her arm just as she takes a step.
"No. No good has ever come from pushing that woman. Give her space," he says.
"It's what she does in that space I'm worried about," David murmurs.
"You don't think she'll become evil again." Henry tries so hard to state it, not ask it, but only Emma makes an attempt to answer, albeit a silent one. She wraps her arm around his back, listening to him talking, hoping, that Regina's come too far, and sharing his hope. She had indeed come far as the lad pointed out, even if that was only to assuage his own fears, but far enough. That was the question.
It leaves them standing outside, the nip in the air sharper than ever. More and more people join them, carrying leftovers, balloons, and bags, muttering to David and Snow their thanks for being invited to the party. Enough eye rolls and uneven voices let everyone know the damper on the festivities is a lethal one, but Snow glances down at Neal and musters a smile.
"Well, I think that's enough excitement for someone this evening," she says, and Killian laughs at himself, realizing he'd actually missed that cheerful yet knowing tone of hers no one seemed quite able to duplicate. Mother and daughter give each other a lingering hug, a few hushed exchanges of being asked to come home with them and a relieved but less than enthusiastic acceptance of the invitation. Swan's hand whips up to Henry's head to tousle his hair.
"Come on, kid. Granny's probably ready for us to check out."
About to follow her in, he blinks at shadows crossing over the exterior of Granny's. Short shadows. He turns and finds Leroy and, and, one of the other ones. Leroy staggers back a few steps before gaining enough momentum to give him a jovial slap on the arm.
"Where'd you go?" he shouts, piercing the night. "Did you even get to have a good time? One minute everyone's here boozing and having fun and the next time I look around and see you, Regina's making a scene."
"I had a good time tonight, I can assure you," Killian says, making sure his tone is hushed. He shifts toward the door, shuffling, but Leroy's hand is still on his arm.
"I mean, it's what she does! Every time we have a party, there is something going on with that woman! So, the boys and I were thinking, let's round up whoever's left and...I don't know! Can go out to the fields and shoot at cans as a last resort. You in?"
"Leroy," he clears his throat and, biting his lip, he suppresses his grin. He scratches behind his ear, not knowing what else to do. "How much have you had tonight?"
"Enough to where I get to drive the car," the other dwarf mumbles.
"Don't listen to him! Look, Mary Margaret and David are out. Kid's gonna eat and poop all night."
"They wouldn't come out anyway," the other dwarf argues with a yawn. Leroy casts him a disgruntled look. It's not worth finding an irritation, Killian thinks. Being surrounded by inebriated dwarfs, and not the first time, and Regina potentially wreaking havoc, and yet he'd rather just smile, laugh, run his tongue over his lips and pretend it comes close to what Emma does to them. He stops shuffling.
"Sorry, mate. My business is elsewhere."
He can still catch her on the landing. It's striking, really, how quickly the bustling sounds of clearing dishes and moving boxes in the diner gives way to the quiet of the inn section. He passes the soft pink glow of the sitting room and tromps up the stairs two at a time to find the door next to his wide open with familiar-looking luggage propped up against it.
"Hey," Emma says when she sees him, her lips pressing together. "Another successful evening."
"One might think the place setting fire would have driven everybody out slower," he agrees, rolling his tongue around in his mouth, watching Henry folding up a few items of clothing.
"So I guess that was Maid Marian...and she's no longer our problem..."
"Do you want to go get a drink?" he blurts out, cringing the second it's out of his mouth. It's a look of surprise that responds to it. At least it isn't that damned look of terror he used to get all the time in Neverland. But it's still too apparent he's taken her aback.
"Oh...thanks, but we're kind of moving back in with my parents." She laughs. "Never thought I'd say that. We'll, we'll talk, uh, hang out sometime tomorrow. Right?"
Story of his life as of late.
"Right, love."
The diner opened to a mere handful of people. Granny remained behind the counter, not much for chitchat when a cool efficiency was more necessary. He sips his coffee and blocks out the muffled orders from the customers as they scatter to various booths and tables with movements that seem sluggish and deliberate at the same time.
"Hi."
He sets down his mug and raises an eyebrow at Henry, his casual smile and the red stripes on his scarf breaths of life on such a dismal morning. He had kept a weather eye out for Swan to show up for breakfast. Well, to be honest, he had kept an even more weather eye for her to show up in the middle of the night, but he'd known that for the long shot that it was.
Henry, however, was always a welcomed surprise.
"Hello, lad."
"My mom wanted me to drop this off for you," he says, holding out one of those phones everyone seemed to have. Small, gray—ought to be a piddling thing to take and yet he barely lifted his fingers to touch it. Come now, it's a bloody gift and the boy's waiting for you to say something.
"Thank you, but I'm afraid I don't know much about operating one of these."
"She said you'd say that, so I'm here to show you," he assures him with a casual shrug and slides into the booth across from him gesturing for the phone. Taking it back, Henry holds it out between them like he's presenting it to some child.
"This button here turns it on. You'll leave it on all the time, but if it shuts off, just come to us and we'll show you how to charge it."
Charge it?
"You'll hit this button next, and where it says 'Emma?' That's how to call her, so you then hit the button there that has a phone on it."
"It doesn't resemble this phone at all."
"Um, other than that, are you with me so far?"
"Only one way to find out." He motions for the phone and peers down at a series of numbers underneath Emma's name. "What's this then?"
"That's my number."
He feels a smile cross his face, widening into a grin. For a moment, he just gazes at the two entries on the screen. He flashes his smile at Henry before following the instructions and, judging by how a disembodied voice directs him to "please wait while his party is being reached" before blaring some music his way, the first attempt thus far is a successful one.
"So you got it working," he hears, the corners of his mouth turning upward. Flashing a look at Henry, he mellows his grin into something a little more conversational...whether she can see it or not. There's a bit of a laugh in her tone, too.
"Does that surprise you?"
"I should say no, but I don't think your ego needs any more stroking," she says. His bottom lip runs along his top one, debating how much innuendo he could get away with while in Henry's presence, but she continues. "Regina hasn't come into Granny's, has she?"
"So much for giving her some time then?" he asks, stealing a quick look at Henry. The boy had lowered his head onto his arms, looking past their booth toward the door, wistful and resigned.
"It's just that I walked Henry over to her house this morning and her car was gone and she's not at her office either. You don't think..." she trails off and he can hear a hard swallow. "You don't think she would do something drastic? Maybe not drastic to any of us, but drastic to herself? You know what? Don't answer that because I'm tired and there's not really any way you can even answer that without tipping Henry off to what we're talking about. We're going to walk around a little bit and see if we see her."
"Did you try the vault?"
"Kind of hard for Henry to not know what we're talking about now, huh?"
"Tell her it's okay. She's just trying to not worry me." Henry sits back up, his interest piqued. "I think walking around's a good idea."
"He says he finds walking around a good idea, and if you would accept some assistance, I could go down to the vault for you."
Dead silence widens his eyes, sends his tongue running over his teeth in his mouth as he tries to recall if he'd hit a button with his cheek or something to end the talking. Opening his mouth to check, he hears a sharp intake of breath.
"You're volunteering to walk right up to a magical den in the middle of a cemetery that belongs to a woman who probably wouldn't care if she fried you to a crisp?" There's something in Emma's voice—the words and final inflection on the sardonic side, but her voice quivers.
"Not walk right up, Swan. Walk by with a cursory glance," he reassures her. She breathes a sigh into the phone, the little puff of air something he's a little more used to than the nervous mumbling she'd succumbed to just a moment ago.
"You can if you want," she says with such a forced nonchalance he can visualize the shrug that undoubtedly accompanied it. "Have Henry sit tight and we'll come pick him up."
What did he, or any of them, really, know about Regina? The question jogs at a pace in his mind that is both leisurely and unrelenting. Perhaps the persistent chill in the air has something to do with it, but he remains unable to answer it even after a brisk walk to the cemetery and back. An extreme woman, certainly, he'd known her to plot murder on a mass scale just so she could be alone with her son. Cora notwithstanding, he only knew Regina at all due to her murderous rage at her own mother. And yet she'd aligned herself so steadfastly with the rest of them, had been such a key ingredient in surviving Pan, surviving Zelena. He ought to be able to predict what actions she would take after this period of solitude and yet, for today anyway, he had no choice but to write her off as unpredictable and simply hope for the best.
Mid-morning, if Regina were up to something, it at least required planning, for had she chosen to reduce the town to smoldering ashes or something to that effect, she'd have done it by now. Rather everything looked so commonplace it created the illusion of disaster being impossible. Fortunately, he had spent enough time in Storybrooke to know differently.
Catching sight of pedestrians on the opposite side of the street, the bulky movements of a pram stand out among them. Quickening his pace, he nods as it is indeed Swan with her baby brother and family out and about. No sign of Regina, but if the Evil Queen can take a few hours to herself before getting back into the villain routine, then surely Swan can spare a few minutes.
"Swan!"
"Speaking of..." she mutters to her mother as he rushes up to them. They slow down, but don't stop for him.
"The mausoleum's all clear. Regina's not hiding there," he reports and he would by lying if he didn't expect some relief to show up on her face. Turning back to him, she smiles, but in that courteous and...gods, not this again...dead way before she continues her walk, stiff.
"Thanks," she says after a beat.
"Swan, are you avoiding me?" Patience, he reminds himself, suddenly unsure how he should move.
"Can you give us a minute?" she asks Snow. The latter formally backtracks the pram and resumes her walk in the opposite direction. He steps around it and onto the intersecting street, more closed off than the one they were just on. Swan glances back a few times at him.
"I'm not avoiding you. I'm just...dealing with...stuff," she says, cringing. Hopefully because it's as pitiful an excuse as it sounds, he thinks. "We have a crisis right now."
His head falls back into air, the muscles in his throat fighting back a grunt at how the definition of "crisis" has expanded into the single ignorance of where one heartbroken woman happened to be at the time.
"There is always a crisis," he groans with his eyes closed. Bloody hell, surely Emma Swan of all people knew a thing or two about not wanting to be found for a little while...and could stand to learn a thing or two about what to do once you've decided to let someone find you now and again. "Perhaps you should consider living a life during them. Otherwise, you might miss it."
Her mouth opens, but before she can even utter a sound, a panic-stricken "we're under attack!" echoes throughout the streets. Leroy. Had to be. No one else's voice carries quite like his. Setting his jaw, he'll have to be forgiven for not being all ears to this latest interruption.
A/N: The name of the book being read at the beginning is the children's classic The Monster at the End of This Book (starring lovable old Grover from Sesame Street). Special thanks to Killianhook on Youtube and to the SpringfieldSpringfield website for episode transcripts! This kind of fic just couldn't be done without them. Coming up? First texts and more ice. Lots more ice.