A/N: This was written for the swanqueenbigbang challenge on tumblr, beta'd by the lovely Mais (underthesunset91 on tumblr), and has an amazing fanmix to go with it. Links can be found on my profile.
If asked, Emma Swan would consider herself a non-believer; a skeptic. She didn't believe in wishes, or fate, or magic, and she certainly didn't believe in fairy tales.
That said, it was kind of hard to remain a skeptic when there was a damn dementor flying around your head.
Or when a fireball came this close to lighting your hair on fire.
"Look out!" Henry shouted from beside her as the creepy, dark, faceless thing swooped down. Grabbing her son by the sleeve, she tackled him, shielding his body with her own.
After a long moment Emma pulled back, looking for the attacker, but they were alone in the sparse area of a forest; not even Killian—who sheknew was responsible for their current location, somehow—was to be seen. A scream sounded from past the tree line, where Emma could see the briefest bit of movement and light, and with a deep swallow, she stood up.
Her heart was pounding but she walked toward a thick tree, the trunk obscuring the action in the clearing just past. Icy air bit at her bare fingers as she rested her hand on the tree and looked around it, to see what was happening.
Two women stood in the middle of a small clearing, not more than thirty feet from the tree, as the whatever swooped down toward them, over and over again, like a bird of prey. One of the women stood with a bow held up, an arrow already aimed upward toward the beast, while the other stood beside her, arms stretched out as she hurled another fireball.
Movement caught her eye behind the women, and when the figure turned to face her she could see that it was him—Killian—the stranger that had been following—hounding—her for days with ridiculous claims and way too much eyeliner. He had been the last thing she'd seen before she was suddenly here—wherever here was. Emma had taken just one step out of her door to take Henry out for dinner before she heard his insincere apology as he tossed something at her feet.
A low, growling whoosh sounded out, enough to make Emma's bones tremble from across the clearing, and the thing flew down, whipping past Killian with a sickeningly wet noise.
Emma turned back to Henry quickly, eyes wide, and licked her lips anxiously. "Henry, I need you to stay here." Henry scrambled to stand up, his feet slipping on the wet leaves beneath him as he looked around, lost.
"What was that thing? Ma?" Emma reached out as he finally stood and gripped his shoulders, squeezing tightly.
"I need you to stay here, behind this tree. Do you understand?" Henry opened his mouth to protest, and Emma shook her head firmly. "Kid, do you—"
"Yes!" He whispered harshly, and Emma gave him a quick smile before she moved him back away from the side of the tree so that he was fully blocked from the commotion.
Emma took a deep breath and then stepped away from the forest into the clearing, staying low as she tried to figure out what was happening. The woman with the bow stepped away from the other, holding her weapon out as she moved backwards to where Emma could see Killian lying, unmoving on the ground. Now facing Emma, she could make out some of the details of the woman's face; the round cheeks, long black hair, and most notably, the look of determination she wore.
In an instant the flying creature descended once more, flying low between Emma and where the woman stood, and before she could think to shout, Emma felt pain radiate from her arm. Tears sprung to her eyes as she dropped to her knees, unable to stop a scream from emerging at the shock and pain.
"Emma?" she heard someone ask, and she gritted her teeth as she opened her eyes to see where an arrow had sliced through the red leather, and cut deep into her flesh. Her hand flew to her arm to stem the bleeding, the blood pooling between her fingers hot and sticky.
The woman with the bow started to run towards her, but the other woman reached out, grasped her arm and yelled, "Snow, focus!" before she dropped her arm to conjure another flame in her palm. The archer—Snow, really?—hesitated at the command, looking incredibly lost as she stared at Emma before she clenched her jaw and pulled another arrow out of her quiver, turning to aim it up in the sky where the creature continued to fly.
"Now!" the other woman screamed, and Snow turned to her right just as a fireball was thrown toward the creature, forcing it to move to the side as Snow let loose her arrow. Emma struggled to watch the scene before her, standing on shaky legs as the arrow made a clean arch, landing squarely in the middle of the creature's chest. It looked as though the arrow was absorbed into the dark nothingness of the monster's body before it let loose another bone-shaking growl, and flew off high into the sky.
The threat gone, Snow dropped her bow to the ground and turned toward Emma, taking long, rushing steps until she enveloped her in a hug that made her wound throb and her shoulders tense. "Emma, it can't be you," she whispered against Emma's hair. Emma stilled, the heat from Snow's embrace smothering and comforting her at the same time. Her throat thickened with emotion as a sense of familiarity washed over her, made her relax for the briefest second into the strange woman.
Suddenly realizing what she was doing, Emma pulled back, and, using her good arm, she elbowed Snow back until she was able to breathe.
Questions about what she had just witnessed clamored for attention, but Emma bit out, "Do I know you?" as the other woman walked toward them quickly, her mouth gaping slightly as she came to stand beside Snow.
She narrowed her eyes in disbelief and her face softened. "Emma," she said on a breath, and Emma's own quickened slightly. She was dressed in all black, from her boots and pants to the black jacket she wore, and her short hair was slicked back in a braid, a few strands escaping to curl against her neck. Her mouth was parted in surprise, and in the glow of the moonlight Emma could see a deep scar above her lip.
In an instant the woman's face tightened, her shoulders pulled back and she swallowed deeply as she looked around with wide eyes. "Is—" she cut herself off, breathing heavily through her nose. The reaction was intense, and Emma turned quickly, assuming her panic came from the flying figure coming back, but when she looked around she saw nothing.
The movement was too sudden and the injury on her arm flared in pain at her action. Emma gritted her teeth against the sting and took an uneven step back. Immediately each woman reached forward to grab her, as Snow gasped. "Emma, you're hurt!"
The other woman dropped her hand and turned, gesturing toward Killian on the ground. "So is he. We need to get him back—both of them back," she amended, brows furrowing at the sentence.
Instinctively, Emma shifted away, Snow's hand falling from where it rested on Emma's good arm. "Emma, please," she begged, "I'm guessing you don't remember anything, but we have to get you to the castle so we can take care of your arm."
Panicking at the reference to her memory, Emma walked backwards, starting to move toward where she had left Henry. "Emma, wait!" Snow yelled, following after her, hands held up to show she wasn't trying to harm Emma. "Look, I don't want to hurt you. If you come back with us we'll fix your arm." Emma breathed out through her nose. At the lack of response, Snow said quietly, "Emma, trust me. Please."
There was something instantly soothing about Snow's voice, and Emma found herself listening, taking a step forward, even. Snow smiled wide, and nodded, tears springing to her eyes. "OK, our castle is just through those trees."
The other woman stepped forward and leaned her head towards Snow. "Help me get Hook." Snow nodded and hesitantly walked towards the injured man, the woman glancing quickly at Emma before she followed. As they lifted him up Emma could see his dark clothes had become even darker, now soaked in blood. Emma winced at the sight; she'd seen her fair share of bad injuries in her line of work—on herself, even—but it never ceased to be amazing how much blood there could be.
Emma bit her lip as the women picked Killian up by his arms, each flinging one over their shoulders, and began to walk toward a thin area of trees ahead. She was loathe to bring Henry into all of whatever this was, but leaving him alone in the woods was hardly an option, either.
Her head started to throb as she ran over toward where she had told her son to stay, and she pressed her fingers hard against her wound, hoping that the dark night sky would block the gory sight from Henry. Rounding the same thick tree, Emma called out for her son, looking frantically around the small forest area.
"Ma," Henry breathed, hugging her closely as he ran to her side. Her jaw clenched with the wave of pain that radiated throughout her body, but she used her good arm to pat him on the back, relaxing slightly.
"C'mon kid, follow me," she said, immensely grateful to whatever deity of teenage stubbornness was on her side as Henry fell into step with her immediately.
"Emma?!" A panicked voice cried out from the clearing, and when she reentered the area Snow had paused, Killian drooping dangerously between her and the other woman as she did so. "Emma," she breathed as Emma neared, face illuminated by the moon.
Henry moved to walk beside her, and Hook slid farther to the ground with a small groan. "Henry," the woman beside Snow gasped, eyes wide and lips trembling.
When she started to drop the man in her arms toward the hard ground, Snow pulled him closer, and said quickly, her voice dripping with pity, "Regina, please."
The other woman—Regina—scowled at Snow, but pulled Killian back up none too gently. "Fine, let's get this fool back so I can finish him myself," she said darkly. Regina eyed Emma and Henry a moment before she began walking toward the far trees, Killian's almost-dead weight making their movements heavy.
"Emma, follow us. Our castle is just past these trees," she said again, her eyes pleading as she looked over her shoulder quickly.
There was nothing but forest on all sides of the clearing; no lights to signify a small town or city or business anywhere, and Emma saw no signs of a road. Taking Henry's hand like she'd done so many times when he'd been a child—and sometimes after if he'd let her—with her bad arm, she followed the three ahead of her, out of any other alternatives. Her arm was still bleeding, she could feel the sticky heat dry around her knuckles, and she needed to get it patched up—sooner rather than later, a life lesson she'd almost paid dearly for on one of her first cases out of town, and one she would not make again now.
The trees were thicker in this part of the forest, and Henry pressed closer to Emma, brushing up against the cut on her arm. He jerked away instantly, hand falling from her grasp as he wiped at his cheek only to see blood on his fingers. "Are you hurt?" He asked, voice thick with fear, and Emma gave a watery smile, shaking her head.
"I'm fine, kid, don't worry about it." Henry looked like he wanted to say more, but before he could Snow and Regina stopped, just past the thick trees. Emma and Henry took quicker steps toward them, breaking through the forest and coming to stand in another clearing. This clearing, however, was much bigger—huge, even—and in the center of it sat the most impressive castle Emma had ever seen in her life. Not that she'd ever really seen one in her life, but she could imagine this one would hold up if she had.
Snow and Regina set Killian down—not incredibly gently, she noticed—and Snow squeezed Regina's shoulder. "Can you…try, while I get Blue?" Regina stared down at the barely conscious man before her and nodded, though her attention repeatedly flickered toward Emma and Henry across from her. "I'll be right back." She said reassuringly, giving Emma a long look before she turned around and ran toward the building.
Regina knelt down gracefully beside Killian, and took a deep breath before holding her hands over his stomach and closing her eyes. The splay of her hands in thick black leather gloves obscured the bulk of the gore, but Emma could still see long scratches across his abdomen, deep enough to expose way too much of his insides.
Belatedly thinking to shield Henry, Emma pulled him back behind her, and asked tentatively, "What are you doing?"
Regina looked up, eyes wild, and her splayed hands rolled into fists. "Concentrating, what does it look like I'm doing?"
Emma leaned over, kneeling down a bit, and gently tried to move Regina's hands out of the way so that she could see just how bad the damage was.
"I don't recall you being a doctor, Miss Swan," she bit out, hands unfurling once more.
Emma's brows furrowed at the repeated inference of familiarity from both this woman and Snow, and swallowed down the uncomfortable confusion and prickly panic that came along with it. "I'm not, but I've been in my share of bad attacks," she kneeled down fully. "Some I didn't even start," she couldn't help but joke, her head swimming from all that had happened.
Regina turned toward Henry, watching him for a long moment as she seemed to almost soak him in, before Emma cleared her throat. Refocusing on the man before them, Emma reached out and gently rested her hand on the bare skin of Regina's wrist.
Something shot through her in an instant, something warm and safe and familiar, and she pulled back quickly as her vision grew hazy. Regina stared at her with wide eyes that matched Emma's own, and she, too, pulled her hands back, resting them on bent knees.
"What was that?" Henry asked, falling to his own knees beside Emma. She shook her head, completely floored. "Look," he said in awe, pointing at Killian. The long, deep gashes were shorter, shallower, and it looked as though the blood that had been gushing out was quickly stopping.
"Woah," Emma breathed out in a rush, leaning back and resting her weight on her arms without thinking. Only, the intense pain she anticipated was replaced by a dull throb, and when she reached up to tentatively touch her own cut, she was met with a similar, slightly smaller wound. "What," she looked toward Regina warily, "what just happened?"
Staring at her own hands, turning them over and over, Regina breathed, "Magic," and looked up in disbelief.
Emma laughed, loudly. The adrenaline from the dementor-thing attacking, from being injured, and from the strange people she'd suddenly been thrown together with finally hit her, and she slid off of her bent legs to sit down on the hard ground with a thump. "Magic." She raised a brow skeptically, smiling sardonically.
Regina narrowed her eyes and licked her lips. "Yes, magic."
Emma laughed again, but Henry perked up. "That was really magic? Magic is real?" He looked at Regina hopefully, fingers curled on his kneecaps as he leaned in.
After a moment's hesitation, Regina nodded, and gave a tentative smile toward the pre-teen. "Yes. Does that," her lip curled back, "frighten you?"
Henry shook his head quickly, meeting Regina's eyes as his own twinkled with a smile. "No, that's so cool!" His excitement was palpable, and it made Emma's own amusement at Regina's claim falter. She hated to crush anything that made her son happy, but this was ridiculous.
"Henry, she's teasing you. It's not real."
Regina fixed her with a glare and held out a hand. "I am doing no such thing," and she conjured a small fireball, just as she had been doing in the clearing earlier. Licking her lips she glanced toward Henry out of the corner of her eye, and the fireball seemed to burn brighter at Henry's excitement .
Emma's mind went blank at the sight of what Regina had just done. She waited for the fire to flicker out like flash paper, or to do anything but obediently sit in the palm of her hand, but after long seconds of it doing just that, Emma swallowed.
Because it couldn't be magic. That was ridiculous. Flat-out absolutely impossible. Still, Emma found herself narrowing her eyes and pointing at the flame as she thought back to the clearing. "Hey, you almost burnt my hair off with that back there!"
Regina closed her fist and the fire disappeared as she leaned forward. "I would have been doing you a favor," she sneered, and Emma's own eyes narrowed at the insult.
A groan from between them sounded out, and both women looked down to see Killian's eyes fluttering open, his brow furrowing at the pain. "Swan?" he asked, blinking one eye open to squint at her.
Emma bit back the anger that filled her at the sight of her stalker, the man that had brought her and Henry into all of this mess. Regina didn't seem to have the same problem as she gripped his chin tightly, leaning down to hiss dangerously, "What have you done?"
Killian brought a hand up to push weakly at Regina's grip, and gritted out, ""s only way."
Before Regina could say more, a woman dressed in a garish blue dress—looking much too similar to a jellyfish, if you asked Emma—came running over, a man—looking pretty blue himself—with a medical bag in tow. "Regina," he said low, a warning to step back as he took her place beside Killian.
He peeled the torn remains of Killian's shirt and jacket aside, looking at the cuts that were still deep, but much better than they had been, and looked over at Regina in confusion. "Snow said he was almost eviscerated."
Regina fell silent, and, looking almost sheepish, shook her head. "They healed him," Henry said, still in awe at the display of magic he'd seen. "There was this grey smoke around him and then he was just," he held his hands out, "better."
The woman turned to look at Regina, shocked at such an idea and, hey, Emma could relate. "You used healing magic? Strong healing magic?" Regina turned her head away slightly, jaw clenched in silence as she refused to answer.
Killian groaned as the doctor began applying bandages from his bag, and nodded toward the castle behind him. "We better get him back in there so I can finish cleaning this up."
"Swan's magic," he looked up at the woman in blue, and then to Regina. "'s both," he murmured, shutting his eyes as the doctor helped him stand and the two began to walk towards the castle.
The woman looked at Regina again, for a long time before she turned to Emma. "You still have your magic," she said with a smile, her answer already given. "The Savior returns," she gave a small bow of her head and held her arm out. "We must get you both inside the barrier, quickly."
The Savior, Emma caught. What had that meant? It had been in reference to her, but not a single day of her life had Emma felt like anyone's savior.
She moved towards the building without much thought, simply grabbing Henry's hand in hers as she walked in front of the woman at her direction and behind a slowly moving Killian and doctor. Regina fell into step beside her, and Emma could see as she cast sidelong glances toward both Henry and her.
"What?" Emma finally asked as they got close to the castle. A bright blue light shimmered around the entire structure in a dome shape, and Emma's stomach fluttered at the sight. For there being no such thing as magic, this entire place did seem rather, well, magical.
"How are you two?" Regina was looking between both of them, and though her words implied casual catching-up over coffee, the desperation in her voice read as something much deeper, more fragile and anxious.
Emma furrowed a brow. "I'm sorry, but I don't know you. Any of you. How the hell do you know me and my son?" Her grip tightened on Henry's hand. The urge to flee from the entire situation was intense, but as she took in her surroundings she could see nothing nearby that would indicate any type of civilization—no city lights, no street lamps, no roads or highways or even any telephone poles. Slipping her phone from her pocket, she was unsurprised to see a complete lack of reception confirm that fact.
Regina looked pained for a moment before her face became impassive, and she stared straight ahead. Emma waited for a response but none came, and she eyed the woman carefully. The light coming from the castle they were quickly nearing illuminated the woman more, and Emma could see that her dark jacket was singed on the cuff, that there was a large bruise on her collarbone, and that dark bags rested beneath her eyes.
Gulping, Emma couldn't help but realize that, despite the biting remarks and bruised flesh, the woman was absolutely breathtakingly gorgeous. More than that, there was something captivating about the haunted look she wore, that—it felt wrong to admit—Emma found beguiling. Clenching her jaw and facing forward she held Henry's hand a bit tighter and the doctor ahead slowed.
They now stood in front of the blue barrier, looking much like a field of electricity as the dome flickered and crackled at will. The woman walked forward from the back of the group to stand directly before the enclosure, and rested her hand along the wall. Slowly, the barrier crackled loudly in front of her before creeping back, and an area of undisturbed air was created, about the size of a door.
"Quickly," she whispered at the doctor, and with a huff he half-walked, half-dragged Killian through the dome and to a small stone bridge that led over a river. Regina motioned for Emma and Henry to walk through and, pausing right in front of it, they did just that, breathing out as she made it to the other side unharmed. Henry smiled up at her, face screaming his enjoyment of the strange situation, and they moved aside as Regina and the other woman came through as well.
"Viktor, take Hook inside and take care of him, I'll be in to assist with magic once I've reset the spell. Regina," she began, and Regina raised an eyebrow, "Snow is waiting for them inside."
Pursing her lips she nodded, and gestured toward the large door to the castle with an outstretched arm. The three walked in silence past the open doors, and paused when the doctor—Viktor—and Killian headed toward the right.
"This way," Regina murmured, and led them to the left, down a long hallway to a small room with a single door. When she opened it, Snow stood at a small dining table—big enough for only six people—talking to an older woman with short white hair.
They both turned at the sound of the door opening, and in an instant Snow was upon Emma, hugging her tightly. "Oh, Emma," her voice was thick with pain, but she held Emma tight. Unsure how to respond, Emma left her arms limply at her sides, and looked past Snow's shoulder to where the older woman was holding Regina by the arms, smiling at her.
The older woman dropped Regina's shoulders, and took large steps over to Emma and Henry, smiling knowingly at them. "It's good to see you both," she said, and patted Emma firmly on her uninjured shoulder. When she caught sight of the bad one she looked to Snow. "Are you gonna take care of that, girl?"
Snow ducked her head a bit and nodded, and she walked back toward the table, pulling out a chair. "Snow told me you don't remember right now, but you can call me Granny. Sit here and I'll get her some bandages to fix you up." Before waiting for a reply she crossed the room and left through another door. Emma sat down as she asked, Henry taking a seat beside her.
Now in a safe, quiet space, the room fell silent. Snow sat in the chair on the other side of Emma at the head of the table, and Regina stood at the side of the table. "Does it hurt badly?" Snow asked, gesturing toward the wound.
Emma shrugged a shoulder. "I've had worse."
Snow sighed. "It was my arrow, wasn't it? I'm so sorry, Emma. I had no idea you were there."
Emma smiled sympathetically at Snow's guilt and started to unzip her jacket and shrug out of it. "It was dark, I believe you. Sad to see this girl injured though," she laughed, and set her jacket over the arm of the chair while she pushed the sleeve of her black T-shirt up to her shoulder. The cut didn't look nearly as bad as it had, and Emma looked over to where Regina stood. "So, wanna tell me how you really did this now? And Killian's wounds?"
Regina scoffed. "Killian? And I told you, dear. Magic."
Rolling her eyes, Emma let go of the shirt, letting it fall down a bit. "OK, seriously, what is with you people? Are you like some crazy LARPing enthusiasts? I won't interfere with your game, OK, just give me some antibiotic and my son and I will be on our way."
Granny reentered the room with a bowl of water, a cloth, and a few bottles and set them down beside Snow. Smiling in thanks, Snow took the cloth and wet it, before opening one of the bottles and pouring a little of the liquid inside on the rag. Granny said, "I'll whip up some food for you four and be back in a bit," before leaving the room once more.
"We're not—I can only assume you're talking about role-players—and this is not some game," Regina said evenly. "You're in the Enchanted Forest."
Emma's eyebrows raised in skepticism and amusement. "OK, sure, we're there, uh, here. Got it. That's just real-world medicine, right?" Emma pointed at the rag Snow held to her arm, wincing at the resulting sting.
"Mom," Henry said quietly, "they're not lying. This is a fairy tale world, and we were brought here to help them."
Emma looked at her son quickly. "What are you talking about, kid?"
Henry squirmed in his chair looking guilty. "Please don't get mad." Emma eyed him. "Come on, ma, promise me."
"No, Henry," she said her body angled awkwardly as she allowed Snow to dress her cut. "Tell me what you're talking about right this minute or you won't be playing Xbox again until you're married."
Henry slumped back in his chair and glared at Emma. "Fine. Killian came to talk to me last week."
"What?!" Both Emma and Regina asked dangerously. Holding her hand up, Emma asked, "Wait, I tell him to leave me the hell alone and he goes after my son?!" She turned to face the other women. "What the hell kind of people are you?"
Henry stood up straighter in his chair. "They're fairy tale characters!" At Emma's dark face he continued, softer. "Killian—who's Captain Hook, by the way—came to see me because you wouldn't listen to him," he said accusingly. "He told me that our family was trapped here, and that they were in trouble. He said that you were the only one that could save them, that you had once before, and I was the only one that could get you here."
Emma collapsed back in the chair, crossing her arms as Snow finished up with the dressing on her arm. "Kid," she started, her voice tired and disappointed. "I don't even know where to start. Talking to strangers is dangerous. We live in New York, Henry, you know not to do it, so what the hell were you thinking?" Her face was lost as she searched his for answers.
"I was thinking I believed him. That it's always been just the two of us—and that's been great—but that it could be a different kind of great with more of us. And that," he licked his lips, looking awkwardly at Snow and Regina. "I don't know, some other stuff, too."
Emma sighed. "You know the superpower thing doesn't work all the time, right? Just because someone believes something is true—"
"Doesn't make it true, yeah, I know." Henry pointed at Snow and Regina. "But don't you feel it? Killian said our family was in trouble, and when we show up they're attacked by a dementor!"
"Actually, a wraith, dear," Regina gave a small wink to Henry that made him smile.
He leaned closer to Emma and said, quietly, "And I feel like I know them. Like they know me," he finished, looking at Regina.
Emma stood up, the truth of Henry's words hitting her harder than she'd like to admit. Because, yeah, something did feel awfully familiar about these people, something that made her heart feel a little bit warmer. "Look, I don't know what your aim is here, indoctrinating my son in some," she searched, "Disney-Hell cult, but it's not gonna work."
Henry stood up now, too, and reached into his back pocket. "I didn't believe at first, either, ma! The hero never believes at first," he said with a small smile, unfolding the paper in his hand. "He told me that a year ago we lived in Storybrooke, with them, and had for two years. And that there was a curse that sent us—you and me—to New York." He thrust out the handful of papers with a determined glint in his eyes. "And it erased all of our memories of living there."
Emma looked down at the papers to realize they were photos; five of them. In the first, Emma and Henry sat in front of a sign that readStorybrooke. The second showed Emma standing beside Snow, Henry in front of her, and a tall, blonde man on her other side. Three and four were also her, Snow, and the man, but in the last one Henry stood in a diner, talking to Regina as she smiled over at him.
The last made her breath catch in a sudden punch of guilt—there was something that hurt in that picture, despite the wide smile the woman wore.
"Henry, about what Killian told you," Regina started, and sat down at the table.
Emma cut her off, confusion warring within her as she questioned the validity of her own mind. It was terrifying, and she said, weakly, "These could be photoshopped, Henry."
Henry looked away from Regina, where he'd waited for her to continue speaking. She'd fallen silent instead, and he looked Emma in the eye as he shook his head. "You don't believe that."
Emma closed her eyes. "That I don't know my own life? Your life? Jesus, Henry, doesn't that scare you?"
Henry smiled gently, almost too-knowing for his age, and said, "Yeah, ma. But what if what we've forgotten is worth the fear?"
Regina cleared her throat and Emma saw her nose twitch, as though she were holding back tears. Snow, too, looked lost, and Emma sank back down in her chair, weakly.
Granny reentered the room with a tray of sandwich halves. "Leroy told me what happened out there! You all must be starving, dig in," she stood behind Snow, and squeezed her shoulder as she held the tray out in front of her. Snow took a few of the sandwiches, murmuring a thank you as Granny walked to stand behind Regina, repeating the motion. When Regina took only one half, Granny nudged her gently, and she picked up one more with a raised eyebrow but a small smile.
Granny set the tray down between Emma and Henry—the latter of which immediately dug in—and sat down at the other head of the table across from Snow. "So," she leaned back, "what do they know?"
Emma tilted her head and picked up a sandwich, peeking at the kind—turkey, score—and saying flippantly, "Just that Henry and I lost two years of our memories, you're all in trouble—I'm supposed to save you—and magic is real." She bit into the sandwich before adding, "Oh, and you're all characters from a storybook."
Granny's eyes twinkled in amusement at the recitation. "And yet you sound skeptical, girl," she joked, standing and nodding toward the window with her head. "Well, maybe this'll help." She pointed, "Here comes Prince Charming right now."
Snow stood up, looking over her shoulder as she did so, and turned fully to face the door, wringing her gloved hands together anxiously.
Emma dropped her sandwich and looked over at Granny who winked and left through the door she'd entered. Looking to Regina, Emma raised her brows. "Prince Charming? Like in Cinderella?" Regina pursed her lips suppressing a grin as Snow whipped around.
"That movie got it all wrong," she said stonily, and licked her lips. "I'm Snow White, and Prince Charming is my husband."
Emma breathed out through her nose and tilted her head down. "Seriously? You're Snow White." Snow answered with a proud nod. "And Killian is Captain Hook, like with the flying pirate ship."
Snow nodded again. "It's called the Jolly Roger."
Emma stared at her a moment before pointing to Regina. "Who are you?"
Regina's jaw tensed and she looked to Henry, her lashes fluttering almost imperceptibly. "I'm—"
"A wi—no, a sorceress." Snow cut her off, looking at her meaningfully. When she turned back to Emma she said, "Her story isn't in most books."
"OK," Emma dragged out the sound, "So this is real? This is serious, you all actually believe we're in another world and you're Disney characters."
Regina smirked, narrowing her eyes playfully. "Well, not all of us. For instance, the doctor that's attending to Killian right now is Viktor Frankenstein."
Emma leaned forward, her voice low. "Frankenstein? As in Dr. Frankenstein's monster, Frankenstein?"
Regina leaned forward, her voice low. "He was his brother, actually," she bit back a smile.
"Oh my god," Emma groaned, and fell back against her chair. "Tell me you don't really believe this, kid?"
Henry shook his head, picking up his last sandwich. "No way, ma. I know it's crazy and I know you have to be the grown-up and tell me I'm wrong, but it's true. I know it's true." He bit into the sandwich and leveled her with a stubborn look, "And you do, too."
Before Emma could reply, the man from the pictures walked into the room, a fur-lined cape flowing behind him. His strong footsteps fell silent suddenly, and Emma watched his open, hopeful face contort into an over-sized grin. "Emma," he breathed, and dropped the bag he held, rushing toward her and kneeling down to bring her into a crushing hug.
Before she could push him back, she felt his large hand gently cradle the back of her head and her heart stopped. Her arms, of their own accord, came up to rest on his back, and she felt herself melt into the hug.
Just as when Snow had hugged her in the forest, this felt familiar and warm and right—this felt like home.
Throat thick with emotion, she finally pushed gently at his shoulders as she both felt the pain in her own injury and realized that the man hugging her was Snow's husband—Prince Charming.
When he pulled back his cheeks were wet with tears, and he stood, smiling down at her before looking to the chair behind her. "Henry," he smiled bigger, lighter, and cupped the side of Henry's face, his palm covering his cheek and ear.
"I can't believe Hook did it," he said with a small laugh.
"WHAT?!" Regina stood up, slamming her hands on the table. "Are you saying you knew what that pathetic pirate had planned and let him bring my—Henry here?!" Her face was thunderous, and Emma gulped at the intimidating sight.
Prince Charming shifted back, dropping his hand from Henry and leveling Regina with a strong look. "I sent him to bring Emma, Regina. I didn't know he'd be bringing Henry."
Regina's glare darkened, and she leaned forward over the table, the leather of the gloves smoothing where her fingers curled into fists. "You imbecile, of course Henry would be with her, he's a child!"
Snow stood up from her spot at the table and walked around the corner of the table to face her husband. A slap sounded throughout the room, making Emma jump a little in shock. "How dare you?" she whispered, furious. "You know what it's like here, you know the danger we face outside that barrier and you brought them into this? Willingly?" Snow shook her head, eyes dark, "What on earth could have convinced you to risk our," she looked to the side, her voice lowering, "family's life like that?"
"My family's already in danger, Snow!" He said forcefully, gesturing at her. "Every single day I know I could lose you when you leave this castle withher," he pointed at Regina, "and I can't keep doing nothing!"
Prince Charming breathed heavily for a moment, the room silent before he reached for Snow's hands, though she drew them back. Emma suddenly felt uncomfortable watching such a personal argument, but she couldn't look away as they spoke of her and Henry, and most importantly, of family.
After a long moment, Snow said, "Well, risking their lives for mine was the worst choice you could make," she said quietly. "And you need to send them back," she added, stepping away from the table. Snow looked at Emma, her foot shifting on the castle floor as she made to walk back toward her, before she closed her eyes and froze.
When she reopened her eyes she made a concentrated effort to look directly at her husband as she repeated, "You need to send them back," her voice cracking as her eyes watered. Her arms came to wrap around her waist as she did, finally, look back at Emma. She watched her face for a long moment before she turned quickly and fled the room, her footsteps echoing in the cold space.
Emma shifted in her seat, more than ready to get Henry and herself out of the castle and back home. Before she could move, Regina stood, and reached into the pocket of her pants, pulling out a small scroll.
Emma was captivated as she held it out and walked toward Prince Charming, her eyes dark. "It's so sweet when a man has faith in his beloved." With a sneer she thrust it out toward his chest and leaned in dangerously. "She wanted to be the one to tell you, but we got it."
Emma looked at the object he held, small and decorated in ornate paper. She turned toward Regina and hesitantly asked, "What is that?"
"A location spell," she said simply, clasping her hands in front of her. "A very powerful one, in fact."
Henry's eyes lit up. "More magic? Can I help?" Regina pursed her lips and shook her head.
"No, Henry, you can't." With a long sigh, Regina looked down at her hands and said, "And as much as I may hate to agree with Snow, she is right." Looking straight at Prince Charming, she said, "We must send them back to New York," her eyes murderous.
Henry's face darkened and he pouted, "But we came to help you."
Her face softened as she looked to the boy. "I know, Henry, and you've no idea how much I appreciate it," looking to Emma, she added, "how much all of us appreciate it. But you've seen what this world is like. It's too dangerous for you both."
Regina's resolve to send them back prickled at Emma. The selflessness of her words was intriguing, addictive, and the rebelliousness Emma so often felt swelled at the firm tone.
Emma licked her lips and sat up in her chair. Her instincts warred between the need to flee home to safety, and the curiosity at what this group of people believed her to be, how they believed she could help them. And—if she was being honest—some indistinct feeling of familiarity they stirred in her, paired with an odd protective urge.
Henry nudged her and before she could stop herself she heard her own voice ask, "If I say I believe you—if—and if we were to stay," Regina glowered, "how would we even help you?" She snorted lightly. "I don't know if you noticed but I wasn't a whole lot of help with that thing back there."
Prince Charming set the scroll down in front of her and crossed his arms. "Despite what you may think, you can help us, I know it." Quieter: "Youhave to be able to."
"David," Regina growled, her lip twitching up dangerously.
He ignored her and continued. "Snow and Regina have been unable to find any information on a way to stop the wraith, and the only idea they have left is a long shot. They've had too many close calls, and if this plan doesn't work…" he trailed off, face open in concern.
Regina continued to stare him down, but didn't disagree. Emma asked, "So what's the long shot?"
Cutting Prince Charming—David, Emma thought, gratefully—off, Regina answered: "Merlin."
"Merlin?" she asked in disbelief. "You brought me here to find Merlin?"
David hesitated. "Well, the spell they found—"
"Tracked down," Regina corrected.
"—is meant to find him. But we don't know if he's even still alive. No one's heard from him in decades."
"He's immortal, you oaf," Regina bit out, "and no matter how idiotic I may find your wife's plan, I'm certain she does not appreciate your complete lack of faith in her."
"It's not a lack of faith in her and you know it!" He stared Regina down, and Emma tensed, upset and confused by the dynamics of the supposed family she'd stumbled into.
Emma looked over at Henry, who appeared to be equally as unsettled. Smiling reassuringly at him she patted his knee. "OK, and if we don't want to help? You'll just send us back home?"
"Yes," Regina answered.
"Well," David hedged, "that's not exactly feasible, right now."
"And why not?" Regina asked. "Getting emotional?" Her tone was mocking, but her own hurt expression belied her indifference.
"Jefferson got the hat working again, but considering how badly burned it was it only had enough power for a trip there and back. We think." Before he could say another word, a fireball flew across the room barely missing him, and landing with a scorch against the wall behind him.
"You think?!" Regina's face was murderous. "You gambled on their inter-dimensional travel? I should flay you where you stand, shepherd!" Emma's eyes widened, and Henry reached for her hand. Looking over at the both of them Regina lowered her arm. "I'm sorry," she said, presumably for startling them, nervous eyes focused on Henry.
Emma looked between David and Regina. "A hat? The thing that Killian threw at us, was a magical hat?" Both of them stared blankly at her and she snorted. "A hat brought us to a different world. That seems—"
"Have you noticed any signs of advanced society, Miss Swan?" Regina's eyes were dark, focused. "Any highways? Stores? Anything other than forest and this castle?"
Emma's eyes narrowed. "Well it's not like we went sightseeing before we came across you, you know." Regina let out a deep breath and Emma sighed in response. Because despite her words being true, she'd been able to look around enough to know that they were absolutely in the middle of the fucking country at the very least and, according to the cast of Into the Woods, they were in the middle of the country in another damn world.
And, yeah, Emma didn't exactly have an alternate explanation to how they were so instantly transported out of the middle of New York City. Biting the inside of her lip, Emma shook her head, accepting for the moment the—beyond insane—idea that she and Henry had gotten dropped off here via hat.
"So, we're stuck here?" Emma asked, slowly. She'd been uncertain if she was going to stay and help them—the mere thought was insanity—but knowing that she was, according to them, stuck in a strange world, was enough to override any sympathy and make her want to get the hell out of dodge.
Neither Regina nor David answered for a moment, simply gave each other uncomfortable looks. Finally, Regina said, "For the time being, I'm afraid so." She looked at the scroll on the table and picked it up. "We've lost all usual means of transportation due to the curse that brought us here. If this spell works," she gestured with the scroll, "and Merlin is still here, he may be able to send you back."
"But you don't know," Emma finished.
"No, Miss Swan, I'm afraid I don't." She looked at Henry and set the item back down on the table. "But I promise you both, I will do my best to see to it that you make it back safely, and soon." Her words were to both of them but her eyes didn't stray from Henry the entire time she spoke.
The depth of her words, especially aimed toward her son, moved Emma, and she felt her shoulders ease, knowing in that moment how completely Regina meant what she said.
Regina looked to Emma, then, and the two shared an intense moment, a silent understanding to protect Henry passing between them.
Emma licked her lips as she mulled over what she knew at this point: a group of strangers claiming to be her family had sent a man to stalk her—and her son—to get her to another world so she could rescue them all from some crazy mythical enemy by tracking down the most famous wizard in the world.
It was insane—absolutely insane, no argument.
But Emma had always been one to go with her instincts—they'd kept her alive this far—and there was something indescribable about how she felt around them; a feeling that she was loathe to admit her son shared, and therefore made it nearly impossible to write off herself. The ferocity both Snow and Regina had showed in their desire to keep Emma and Henry from danger was touching, and did go a long way to soothe some of her fears, as she had been able to feel that protectiveness as though it were something tangible.
With a sigh, Emma, rested her hand on the useless phone in her pocket reminding her of the complete lack of options she had anyway—she and Henry were stranded in the middle of nowhere—be it in her world or another—with no means to take care of themselves. Whether all of this was real or not—and she was terrified to find herself considering the former—she couldn't argue that there was a better option right now than acting as though it were all real until she would be able to get her bearings.
Setting her hand on Henry's shoulder, she nodded, mind made up. "OK. We stay with you and help however we can while we try to find a way to get Henry and me back home safely. Deal?"
Regina's lips turned down at her announcement, but she nodded. "I can't say I'm surprised, Miss Swan." Emma's head titled at the almost smile that graced her lips before she turned to look at Henry.
David rested his hand on her shoulder. "Come, I'll have Granny show you to your room." His voice wavered as he spoke, but smiled, and walked over toward the door across the room. When he pulled it back, Emma could see part of a kitchen, Granny standing at an island in the middle.
While he spoke to Granny, Emma looked at Regina and hesitantly prompted, "So we're all…family?"
Regina smirked, and looked at Henry before shaking her head and looking down, her smile fading in an instant. "David and Snow are your family. I am…" she looked up, lost.
"A family friend?" Emma supplied helpfully, and Regina smiled tightly in response.
"Yes, I suppose so."
David stepped back into the room, and Granny walked through the door, carrying a handful of cloth.
"Alright, young man, come with me." Henry did as she asked, jumping out of his seat and following her. After a few steps she turned, and tilted her head toward Regina. "That woman went through a lot tonight, wouldn't you say? Why not give her a hug."
Regina looked up, startled at the suggestion, but before she could move Henry gently wrapped his arms around her waist, his head resting against her chest as he hugged her tightly. After a pause she rested her hand on his back, drawing him closer, and leaned down, eyes fluttering shut as she pressed her cheek to the top of her head.
Emma was unable to look away from the sight; Regina looked as though she could float away, suddenly, after a night of sharp retorts and glares and clenched fists. It was curious, such a reaction to her son, and Emma found herself wondering what, exactly, her—and Henry's—relationship to Regina had been in Storybrooke—assuming there was a Storybrooke.
When Henry pulled back the blissful expression was gone, replaced by wide eyes and open vulnerability—the look was shocking, almost painful to watch but also captivating. Emma found herself getting lost in the expression.
"Emma?" David carried his own armful, and nodded to where Granny and Henry had just headed out toward the hallway. "I'll walk you."
Emma rose from her seat, nodding, and hesitated at the table for a moment, unsure what to say to the other woman. Finally, she murmured a simple, "Good night," and followed the prince out of the room.
"About all of this," he waved at the castle with his free hand, "I don't want you to get the wrong idea, that I made this choice lightly." Emma turned her head slightly to face him as he spoke and he did the same. "It is dangerous here, and I struggled for a long time about if I should even attempt to bring you to the Forest." The hallway was dark, but a few ceiling lights—curious, Emma noted—hung above them, giving enough light to see David's look of concentration.
"I didn't know you for very long in Storybrooke," he said slowly, "but I felt like it was my duty to protect you, even if you didn't need protecting." He smiled. "I've tried to hold onto you in the past, tried to follow you and be there for you. But I learned quickly that you're a strong woman, and you can take care of yourself.
"No matter how scared I was, I am to ask you to help Snow, to help both of them, how scared I was to bring you here in the first place, I know that you can handle it." Emma smiled slightly at the way he spoke about her, though another small part of her felt disappointment at the assertion she was fine alone—even if she believed it to be true. "More importantly, I know that you, the amazing woman I got to know in Storybrooke, that she would have wanted to do this."
He paused in front of a staircase, and reached out to squeeze her shoulder with his free hand. "I'm scared for Snow, of course, but I need you to know that I didn't bring you here for her, at least not completely." He smiled sadly, cupping her cheek in a way that made her feel suddenly emotional. "I brought you here for you. No matter how much you fought the title, the thought, even, you're the Savior. Not because of some prophecy, but because of who you are."
He turned and walked up the staircase, Emma following even as she tried to process the words. She'd heard it earlier that night, from the woman outside—and oh, god, what kind of pretty little princess must she be with that dress—but had yet to hear an explanation of what that title meant, how on earth it was connected to her.
David paused at the top of the stairs, and Emma looked to what had his attention. Sitting in front of a door was Snow, something resting in her lap as she stared down, cheeks wet and eyes red. "Snow," David said, walking toward her, but she held up her hand.
"No, David. Not right now. Go to our room and we'll talk there." Her jaw was as firm as her words, and David nodded once before holding out the pile he carried.
"There are towels and a pair of pajamas there, as well as a change of clothes for tomorrow." He looked to Snow briefly before adding, "They're Regina's, so they should fit you." Emma nodded with a small smile. "The bathroom is right across there," he pointed to a room across the hall, "and it should have everything you need. If you think of anything else…" he trailed off at Snow's glare.
"I'll let you know, thanks," she gestured with the clothing and David turned, slowly, before walking back down the stairs.
Beside her, Snow cleared her throat. "Emma," she started, voice thick, "I'm sorry about leaving earlier it was just—"
"Overwhelming? Yeah, I get that," she laughed, and Snow joined in, though the sound was hollow. She looked at the bundle Snow carried, and asked, "What's that?"
Snow took a deep breath and held it out. "It's your baby blanket." Emma's eyes widened and she reached a hand out, resting on the soft white yarn.
"What? No," she pulled back. "I lost mine in a house fire years ago." The memory still hurt, but she'd come to terms with it back then.
Snow shook the blanket out and revealed the corner, where Emma was weaved in purple ribbon. With a gasp, Emma ran her fingers over the name and said, "This is really mine? But how—"
"I assume anything you lost when we were sent back was explained away by your new memories." Emma remained skeptic, though the blanket truly looked to be hers, which would be impossible if her own memories were to be believed.
"OK, so why do you have it?" Snow hedged, and Emma waited, eyes wide and confused.
"I," she licked her lips, "David and I are…" she looked Emma in the eye and said evenly, slowly as though it had been carefully practiced, "friends of your parents. We knew them."
Emma stepped back, floored by her admission. "You knew my parents?" Snow nodded, biting her lip a bit. Her jaw tightened immediately at the ridiculous claim, the extremely personal claim that Snow used against her. She looked directly at Snow, and felt as though she was telling the truth, that she had, truly, known Emma's parents.
Fingering the ribbon of the blanket, Emma asked, carefully, "You're serious?" her tone brooking no room for deceit.
Snow met her guarded expression head-on, and nodded. "I am."
Ducking her head, Emma licked her lips and closed her eyes. "If that's true," she stipulated, "I have a lot of questions." The tight line of her jaw communicated her seriousness on the matter, but Snow didn't back down.
Snow nodded again, raising her chin as she handed over the blanket. "I know you do. Go, get some rest tonight. I take it you're staying?" Her voice was hopeful, though she tried to temper it. Emma nodded, and Snow looked down. "Of course you are."
She walked past Emma, unblocking her door, and Emma turned, not ready to let Snow leave without answers. "Snow—"
"Tomorrow," she hugged her arms to her stomach as she tilted her head. "Tomorrow I'd like to tell you about your parents, but not now." She pointed toward the door. "Henry's already inside. Good night, Emma."
Snow reached out again, as she'd done downstairs, her face twisted in conflict before she rested her hand on Emma's forearm with a small squeeze, then turned away and walked around a corner, out of sight.
Her blanket sat heavy in her arms, the familiar weight and texture and even smell of her most prized possession a welcome presence. Tucking it against her chest she crossed toward the bathroom door, a little wary of what she would find in a fairy tale castle. However, when the door opened she was met with a restroom more fit for a mansion than a castle—a glass shower sat in the far corner, a modern-ish toilet across from it, and a large counter sink against the wall to her right.
"Wow," Emma couldn't help but gasp as she made use of the facilities—complete with plumbing. She brushed her teeth with the spare items she found in the medicine cabinet, and took a quick but satisfying shower before she changed into the silk pajamas she'd been given.
Regina's, she'd been told, so they would fit. And how had that been known? Regina had explained she'd been a family friend, but did that mean she was Emma's friend, too? So close they shared clothes, even? The thought was absurd, not only considering the woman in question was so not the type to trade sweaters, but that Emma herself had never, ever been that kind of a friend to anyone.
As she closed the door and walked across the hall she shook her head at the complete whirlwind her night had been, ending with the powerful claims from Snow and the return of her blanket. Opening the door, she found Henry laying on his back atop the covers of the big, Queen bed, dressed in pajamas, too.
"Comfy, kid?" She asked, trying to keep her tone light as she set her clothes down on a trunk at the foot of the bed. She hung on to the blanket, bringing it with her as she neared her side of the bed.
"Yeah," he murmured, looking at the ceiling. "Just thinking."
"About the dementor we faced, or the sorceress that tossed a fireball at Prince Charming's head?"
Henry laughed and shook his head. "It's a wraith, ma. And neither of those things."
Emma crawled under the cover and Henry followed, cold toes warming quickly beneath the thick blankets. "Can't be math homework, 'cause I'm pretty sure this is a good excuse for being late with it." She tucked her blanket beside her pillow.
"Are you mad at me?" He rolled his head to look at her. "For talking to Hook, and tricking you."
Emma sighed, and stared straight ahead as she let his heavy question linger a moment. "It's not that, Henry. I'm disappointed." He sighed, and she pulled him to her quickly, hugging him as she rested her head on his shoulder, ignoring his embarrassed complaints. "Cliché, huh? Well how about this: I'm scared. You know as well as I do how many dangerous people there are out there, and, OK, this one brought us to a fairy tale world, but others could do worse." She tried to keep her voice light but the fear she felt was real, was visceral, and she would do anything—anything—to keep her son safe.
"I know. I do, really. And I'll admit it wasn't my finest moment. But I know how protective you are of me, and I'm not complaining, really, but it's why I had to hear Hook out. I knew you'd never entertain this idea for a second if it meant letting some possible lunatic into your life." Emma smiled and closed her eyes at the insanity of the conversation. Because she was starting to entertain this idea. It was all starting to pile up, the pictures, the feeling, the protectiveness, her blanket—it was all a little more convincing than she was comfortable with.
Shaking her head she laughed. "Confirmed lunatic: he either truly believes he's Captain Hook and isn't, or really is, and—you watched that movie a lot as a kid—neither is a sane option." After a long moment, Emma asked, "Are you so desperate for these people to be related to us because…" she bit her lips and shook her head, suddenly embarrassed at her own question. "You know what? Never mind, kid. Get some sleep." She rolled onto her side, away from Henry and back on her own pillow, her fingers tangling with the yarn of her blanket.
After a long silence: "It's not that you're not enough, mom. You know that, right?" Emma felt tears prickle behind her eyes and she shut them tightly, trying to keep her breathing even. "I've seen the files, in your room. And last week I saw an email from that PI friend of yours. I know you started looking for your parents again."
An intense combination of rejection, hope, and failure all warred within her at Henry's words. As an experienced investigator herself it had always been rather embarrassing to admit that she'd been unable to find the people that had abandoned her; the only people she ever truly wanted to find. She'd tried desperately to keep her search from her son, nervous that he'd take the idea of grandparents and run with it, only to be crushed by each dead end Emma ran into.
"You can talk about it, you know. I'm not a kid anymore, I can help you look." Emma said nothing, instead biting her cheek to keep her emotions in check. "And your parents leaving you…it doesn't mean you're…less." The embarrassment of her son trying to comfort her was too sharp, and she buried her nose into the borrowed pillow.
"I just thought that if they were here, if we had family here, that we should find out who they are." Henry took a pause, and when he spoke again his words were full of conviction. "I think they really do need your help, ma. I think…I think that, even though Snow and Regina think it was a mistake, that it was a good thing Prince Charming sent for us. And," he breathed out, weighing his words carefully, "family or not, I can't stand the thought of any of them getting hurt."
Emma sighed, understanding exactly her son's feelings. "Yeah, kid, same here." She eyed the blanket beside her, and thought of the woman that had given it to her; how she'd presented it so delicately, how she'd said so firmly that Emma and Henry should be home, should be safe.
She thought of the dementor—wraith—that had swooped down and almost hurt the women that defended her and her son so fiercely, and that had hurt their friend, possibly her friend in some other life. And she thought about how, if she could help them, protect them like they tried to protect her and Henry, that she wanted to—that she really, really wanted to.