THE PRICE OF VICTORY
DISCLAIMER: I don'r own OUAT or any of it's characters. If I did 'the good guy card' wouldn't be as overpoweringly obnoxious. No copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: I suppose I must confess that I don't even watch the 'Let's Torture Regina Show' anymore. First season hooked me, but when Snow White can commit murder and necromancy and everyone just shrugs and says, "oh, it's okay, you're the good one." I'm done with it. They'd have flayed Regina alive for less. The writers all seem to have the attitude that the 'good card' lets you get away with murder. Literally and obviously.
That said, this began stirring in my head after Regina took the brunt of the curse on the well and everyone just kind of nodded their thanx and went to hang out at Grannies (without her). Fortunately, I thought, there could be a soloution. Regina's a mayor. The police are obviously in with Snow White the cult leader. And she's a kidnapper. The city looks like it's been hit by a bomb. Call the Feds. They have an anti-cult division.
Rant over. I'm still working on Year of the Snake. I just banged this out Friday night to get some head space clear.
PRICE:
Emma stared up at the flat white concrete ceiling and tried to focus on the low buzz of the caged fluorescent bulb. Outside the bars and beneath the balcony was the pit of the common room and the low murmur of the other prisoners came up like a hateful surf.
"Hey Savior," a woman's voice taunted, "I hear your mommy's coming out of the infirmary today. Too bad you're on lockdown, or you'd be there to keep her company."
The blonde said nothing. She just kept staring and tried not to let a tear slip. Weakness here was like blood in the water. Snow would be finding that out again. Soon.
"Don't worry, precious." This voice belonged to Krista, a heavyset, tattooed woman who had no concept of mercy. "I'll make sure she gets that pretty little ass right up here to see you. After I'm done with it."
The blonde just closed her eyes and sighed. There was no way she could save Snow now. She couldn't even save herself. A thick black venom pumped through her veins. Most of it was hate, but there was shame too. She was ashamed that she felt a spark of relief. Relief that whatever was happening to Snow wouldn't be happening to her.
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"Keep moving," the matron growled. She gave a shove with the business end of her billy club.
The prisoner listed as Mary-Margaret Blanchard shivered. She did not want to go back to general confinement. The very thought of it terrified her. She wanted to throw up. She sent a shaking hand through her shorn hair. It glossed over the fading bruise that covered half her face.
The heavy-set guard gave a low, predatory chuckle. "Scared? You should be. They know what you did as well as I do. Nobody here has any sympathy at all for anyone that would kidnap a kid. You'll be lucky if you live to finish your sentence."
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David limped hurriedly along behind his cellmate as they made their way down towards the yard. The big bear known as 'Murray' smirked back when he saw how close his new property was. He didn't like it when David was too far away. He said he couldn't 'protect him' when he was too far away. He snapped his beefy fingers, summoning the blonde man to his side.
"This is good enough," Murray said. He looked around for prying eyes. "Yep," he sighed, "shouldn't be a guard pass by for a few minutes. Now hit yer knees and come to pappa."
David hesitated, looked away. Frowned hard.
"Look, bitch, you can take it easy, or you can take it hard," Murray growled. "Your choice."
David said nothing. He wanted to fight, wanted to crush this bastard. It wouldn't work. Murray had friends. Even if he beat Murray, he wouldn't beat Murray's friends. Fear conquered revulsion. He dropped to his knees on the rough concrete. His only consolation was that he didn't get passed around or double-teamed like Whale.
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Five men stood silently at the graveside of Leroy Delver. None spoke, but they rarely did anymore. They'd spent the last year learning vital lessons about silence. The FBI's cult unit had rounded up everyone who'd had anything to say about fairy tales and enchanted forests. Leroy hadn't learned fast enough. He'd been the loud one. The angry one. The violent one. Guns beat broken bottles every time.
Sleepy laid the flowers down. Dopey put a six-pack down beside them. Funny thing, there were six flowers as well. One for each of the dwarves. Sneezy really didn't count anymore.
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"You've been told about stealing, Henry." His new stepfather's tone wasn't angry, but it was firm. "Your previous parents may have turned a blind eye to mischief, but we can't."
"Stealing small things will lead you to believe that you can steal bigger things..." his new, state supplied mother interjected.
"It will also make you believe that you could do more than just steal." The man seized the boy's chin and forced him to look up into his eyes. "We don't want you to turn out like... We don't want you to go bad. When you start hurting others, you'll eventually finish by hurting yourself. You understand that, don't you?"
Henry had learned enough manners to know how he should answer. "Yes sir."
"Okay then." The man sighed and pointed at the bolster. "Since this isn't the first time, you'll get ten licks. Put your hands there. Bend over."
Henry obeyed. There was only a moment before the belt began to swish.
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Regina Mills walked towards the post office, looking at the changes a year had made in her little town and contemplating the wisdom of P.T. Barnum. Apparently the only thing worse than bad publicity really was no publicity at all. The bustle of the street around her seemed to prove it. That bad publicity had come a little more than a year ago. With the authorities. Television, newspapers, gawkers, everyone had seemed to arrive at the same time. Everyone wanted to see the end of 'The Cinderella Cult'.
Regina still smirked that they'd gotten the name wrong. After all, Ashley Boyd had testified against Snow and the rest of the 'good guys'. She'd been one of the smart ones. She had a baby to lose. Unlike Emma, she was also still free. Still with her little family.
Regina had stretched scheming muscles she didn't know she had and had spun all the media madness into gold. Releif from the federal government. Assistance to rebuild. Special grants for the school and hospital. Bad publicity and crowds had eventually become good publicity and and was rapidly generating seasonal crowds. Granny's Diner was fairly full most of the time and the B&B was doing a land office business renting rooms to developers, tourists and soon-to-be summer residents all looking to buy some of the local picturesque property. Marco had retired and his shop had become a real estate office. The hardest part for the town council was not overselling.
"Good morning, Mayor Mills," Gold's voice oiled into the morning air. "How are you this fine morning?"
"You sound happy, Gold." Her tone wasn't even slightly friendly. "What do you want?"
"Just to wish you the joy of the day and to see if there were something you might need?"
"Let me see," she said with a falsely thoughtful tone, "hmmmmm. You could help me take revenge on all those who have wronged me over the years? No. No, they're all in prison and will be for a very long time." Her lips quirked when she thought of the range of charges she'd brought against them.
"You might open the borders and do a little spinjob to bring in tourism, land development, perhaps open a summer resort?" She tapped her lip thoughtfully. "No wait. I've done all that." She tapped her lips again.
"I know, you could replace all those spoiled former lords and ladies with real administrators, so that this town no longer looks like the set of one of those awful disaster movies." She bestowed a sarcastic smile on the little man. "No, I did that too."
She 'hmmed' again. "I know," she offered, "you could leave town and never, ever return."
"Are you sure, dearie? After all..."
Regina didn't let him finish. She gave him back one of his oily smiles and asked in a saccharine sweet tone; "Please?"
He chuckled. "Very well, Madam Mayor, I'll go, but only if you answer one teensy little question."
"What?"
"Well, you're a mover and a shaker now," the hateful gnome observed with wide arms, "you've got e-mails, video conferences, power meetings and so forth..." he nodded towards the two pices of paper peeking out of her coat pocket, "...why would you trouble yourself with snail-mail?"
"Just mailing a letter." She shrugged. "Good-bye, Mister Gold."
She left him and stepped into the little brick building, reached into her purse and pulled out two identical postcards, each bearing the bright new image of Storybrook on their face. A quick flip showed that they were identical on the back as well, even down to the address. Only the names were different. One was to Snow, the other to Emma.
Half of her wanted to smile at the identical messages. Half of her wanted to cry.
"You'll be interested to know that Henry is doing well in his new foster home."
She dropped them in the slot and stepped away. A frown tried to turn her lips down, but she denied it. This was victory. A dearly bought one. It really was all she had left.