Fractured Souls

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon A Time.

Summary: They were like two broken beings who tried to fill the cracks with one another, to piece together a new whole using the fragments, the vestiges, of one another's fractured souls.

This is mainly just a collection of individual little self-contained scenes. I may connect them in the form of a full story, add in a plot, etc. one day when I have time, but that day is not today.

Chapter 1

Scene I.

She stared at the sight before her. It was absurd. A god riding a bicycle, or whatever the hell the contraption was called. But he looked so carefree that she felt a pang of envy. That was when the vehicle stopped before her, and he offered an outstretched hand. Ridiculous. He couldn't actually expect her to get on that thing. It was so flimsy, and clearly unstable, and—oh, what the hell.

She climbed onto the bar, but when they didn't set off, she turned to Hades with a questioning look. He had an odd expression on his face, but it wasn't disgust or hatred, as she might have expected. In fact, she didn't know what it was. He brushed it off as nothing when she asked, and she didn't have the chance to inquire further, because that was when he pushed off.

For an instant, the balance of the bicycle shifted and a small feeling of panic rose within her. The contraption was never meant to hold two people, it had been foolish to put her safety in the hands of this god who was clearly insane, and they would both tip off and crash onto the ground… but that didn't happen. Before she knew it, they were soaring through the forest on the bicycle, the wind rushing through her hair. Although the balance was still precarious, promising to throw them both onto the ground with the slightest motion, she no longer cared, and unable to hold it back, a small snort of delight escaped her.

Scene II.

Hades.

She knew his soul well, had seen it reflected in his eyes, a mirror image of her own—dark, contorted, in constant anguish, fueled by the thought of vengeance, and fractured beyond repair. When he spoke of his brother, she immediately knew him to be a kindred spirit. It was what had sparked that feeling of recognition in her. She could feel her soul lighting up at having found someone who seemed to share her hatred, her bitterness at the unfair hand Fate had dealt them.

It was why, when he professed his love to her, she had wavered in her resolve. Having him so close, and wanting him to come closer still, oh how she had wanted to believe him.

But the darkness had been her home for so long, with hate as her constant companion, and this emotion was new. This feeling that he evoked in her, creeping into her heart like a light in the darkness, was an intruder; it threatened to overpower her, to squeeze her heart so hard as to kill her. She couldn't allow that to happen.

Even as she felt more cracks run through her very being, she sent Hades away. She thought her resolve would break at the look of desolation on his face, but then anger returned to his eyes, replacing the foreign emotion that had been there before, and relief swept through her. Anger was safe, anger she could handle.

A wave of heat engulfed her in the wake of his magic. When the air cooled once more, she gripped the table edge with both hands as she tried to keep the pain at bay. She refused to allow Fate to see how she had nearly fallen for its trick. As if anyone could ever love her; no one had before, and no one ever would. Now, Hades too would hate her, despise her, and that was fine; it was perfectly fine.

Scene III.

A damaged soul that had seen all the darkness and evil the world had to offer—that was what resided within her. She had long ago known this fact, but had never cared, had even relished in it—that is, until she had met her beautiful baby girl, so pure, so innocent, so full of light. When she held her precious sweet pea in her arms, it felt like a small bit of that light was finding its way through her own personal darkness. It was a light that had been missing nearly her entire life, ever since her adoptive mother's death when she was a child.

Tears brimmed along the edges of her eyes at the memory. Her adoptive mother had been the only person who had ever truly loved her. Perhaps if her illness had not taken her, things would have turned out differently. But that didn't matter anymore, now that she had her baby. Her little Pistachio was the only love of her life. And that was why she had given her up to her sister and her insufferable bandit, because she couldn't protect her child from Hades, but they could—they'd better, or she'd make sure wherever they ended up made the Underworld look like Paradise by comparison.

An ache crawled through her person then. She missed her baby, the warm, squishy, fragile little bundle that she had only gotten to hold a handful of times before being snatched away, again and again. She pressed her forehead against the window pane to stare at the wilderness beyond, wondering where her child was now. Was she warm? Well fed? Safe? Not knowing, being forced to put her trust in Regina and Robin—it killed her. But she would get her child back soon. Nobody was going to stand between her and her baby.

As for Hades, she knew that he had denied wanting to harm the baby, but despite all of his smooth assurances, if he even thought about coming near her child, he would find out first-hand what wicked really looked like—and regret it for the rest of his immortal life.

As if summoned by her thoughts, a blue blaze roared to life across the room. She looked over to find the current object of her ire leaning against the doorframe of her kitchen, all studied composure.

"Don't you know how to knock?" she asked, letting him know he was not welcome there.

"Sorry, was I interrupting something important? Did you have company over?" He made a show of looking around the kitchen, empty save for the two of them. She glowered. "Or were you busy plotting how to get your daughter back, perhaps? I could help with that, you know." He stepped away from the frame and began slowly treading toward her.

With every step he took, her breaths came with just a little more difficulty. "Don't come any closer," she warned, standing. He stopped, but she didn't feel any relief. "What are you doing here, Hades?" she asked warily.

"I wanted to see if you had reconsidered…" he trailed off, substituting the missing words with a gesture, his arm sweeping around the room, but she could feel just how far that gesture extended, beyond the room, beyond the house, beyond the farm and the forest.

She had avoided meeting his gaze this entire time, choosing instead to glare at the wall in front of her. But when he resumed closing the distance between them, she looked over—and immediately regretted it. Looking into his eyes, it felt like the world had fallen away, leaving only the two of them, two broken beings who tried to fill the cracks with one another, to piece together a new whole using the vestiges of one another's fractured souls. But she knew darkness, was all too familiar with the roads it traveled. And no matter how much she may have wanted to believe him, to trust him, she couldn't. She had dealt in magic and manipulation most of her life—knew how real the illusions conjured from loneliness and desolation could seem. She knew that falling for a false reality would only hurt her in the end, would only leave her with more broken shards than when she'd begun.

She tried to respond, but her throat closed around the words. With an effort, she forced them out. "Go haunt someone else, Hades. Leave me alone." There. She'd said it.

"Why do you keep denying us, Zelena?" Although his composure never wavered, the emotion in his eyes belied his true feelings. She didn't want to gaze into them anymore.

"I won't give you power over me!" she spat at him, bitterness, anger and hurt lacing every word. He stared at her, clearly shocked by her outburst, and she was reminded of their parting in Oz.

"Zelena, I don't want power over you. I only want you." Closer now, he reached for her hand, but she snatched it away.

"No. You want me to kiss you and break the curse. Then you can steal my baby and use my time travel spell to enact your revenge. I won't do it. I won't help you hurt my baby," she said.

"I told you all those years ago, I don't want that anymore. I don't care about my brother or Olympus. As for your child, I only want to help you get her back. I know how much she means to you."

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, trying to block out the words. Such a long silence reigned that she thought he had vanished, but then he spoke again.

"If you don't love me, then the kiss wouldn't even work."

She swallowed, unable to argue with his logic, because she knew—had known the instant she'd seen him again in the Underworld. That night walking down the street of the replica town, there had been a tightening in her chest. The emotion that threatened to choke her, to crush her heart with its intensity—though she loathed to admit it—wasn't hate.

"That's it, isn't it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"This has nothing to do with your baby. The problem is you. You love me, and you're too scared to admit it."

Her eyes snapped open at his audacity. "How dare you—"

"I'm right, aren't I?" There was no glee in his tone, only resignation and sadness, and it only made her angry.

She gathered all of the composure she could muster, trying not to flinch under his knowing gaze. "I think the eons with only the dead for company has made you delusional, Hades. Let me make it perfectly clear for you: I have never loved you, and I never will. Now leave, or we're going to discover just how immortal you really are."

And just like that, he was gone from the kitchen. No dramatic gestures or showy blue flames, just—gone. She would have congratulated herself on not allowing her voice to waver during the speech, not even once—if only she didn't feel so wretched. She sank down onto the window seat and wrapped her arms around herself to keep the new cracks from spreading further.