It is a truth universally acknowledged that life is never easy. However little known the feelings of life itself may be on this matter, this truth is so well fixed in the experiences of the living, that no one bothers to argue the point.

This was what Elizabeth Darcy, née Bennet, found herself thinking as she drank tea and ate scones with the sheriff of Storybrooke. Lizzie (as she preferred to be called) was trying to get to the point, but the sheriff kept getting engrossed by minor elements of her tale.

"So, you're sure this captain's name was Jones?" she asked for eleventh time.

For some reason, little things like that kept bothering the sheriff. Perhaps, as someone who must spend a fair amount of her time tracking down the guilty, she would have preferred a culprit with a more unusual name. But, she'd been just as amazed when Lizzie had introduced her sisters and herself, as if there were something unbelievable in five women from a family named Bennet.

As for her reaction to the very large water guns (ingenious devices!) they had brought with them, that was really what she was trying to explain, wasn't it?

But, first, she had to explain why a man was (or wasn't) named Jones. Lizzie sighed. "As I said, Sheriff, no one knew if that was the man's real name. It was the name he gave. He claimed to be a retired captain from his majesty's navy, but no one ever found evidence to support that."

"There are a lot of people named Jones," the sheriff said. Did sounded oddly hopeful, as if it mattered to her that this captain be proven to be nothing more than he claimed, a retired seaman from the England Lizzie had grown up (she had traveled a great deal since then and found there were a great many Englands to choose from among the many worlds).

"Yes, there are many people named Jones. There are rather fewer named Killian, and none of them were found on the lists of his majesty's navy."

The sheriff looked as if she'd been hit. "Killian? His name was Killian?"

"So he said. My mama was sixteen when she first encountered him. You see, there was a legal case my grandfather—Mama's father—took part in. He was a solicitor."

The sheriff choked on her tea. "A what?"

"A solicitor. You call them lawyers in this country, I think?"

"Oh. Lawyer. Right. I thought you meant . . . uh, never mind."

It was almost too tempting. But, judging by the sheriff's reddening face, Lizzie would regret asking. Besides, good manners forbade it. Reluctantly putting her curiosity aside, she resumed her tale, "If things had been otherwise, that case would have been the making of Grandpapa. It was a landmark decision. He was quite proud of his work on it, despite all the troubles that came after. The long and short of it is that there was a man named Ignatio Somerset. He had been born a slave but had lived for many years in England as a free man." Not only as a free man but as the butler to no less a person than the Duke of Montagu, who had given Mr. Somerset free rein in his library, having recognized his exceptional intelligence. Mr. Somerset had become a successful writer and pamphleteer as well as penning several plays that had been quite well received in his day. "Then, Captain Jones appeared, claiming ownership of Mr. Somerset. He said he had bought him from the estate of the widowed sisters who had owned him and had the papers to prove it.

"My grandfather did a great deal of the research in the case. Not that he argued it before the judge. That was the barrister's job. But, a great deal of the work was his.

"The judge ruled in their favor. He said that slavery could only exist where there was positive law to support it. Where such law did not exist, slavery must be assumed to be illegal, and anyone trying to lay hold on a man, claiming to own him, was guilty of assaulting a free man and would suffer the penalties for it. Mama's family had been overjoyed. Besides the affection the felt for Mr. Somerset, they were staunch abolitionists." From the sheriff's reactions during her story, Lizzie suspected she might be as well. She nodded approvingly as Lizzie told her the judge's decision.

Lizzie took a sip of her tea. "Unfortunately, ownership of Mr. Somerset had never been the captain's true objective. There was a talisman Mr. Somerset had inherited. Before working for the duke, he had been employed by the duke's widowed sister. Her husband was foreign count from Romania, I believe. The talisman was a protection against the undead."

"Wait, undead? You've got zombies where you come from?"

"Zombies? I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the term."

"Shambling, mindless, brain eating dead people."

"Oh, yes. Quite a lot of them, as it happens. Or we did in Mama's day. Things are much improved of late.

"The long and short of it is, despite the judge's ruling, the captain refused to give up. He attempted to kidnap Mr. Somerset and, when that failed, kidnapped my mama—she was quite young at the time, not even out in society. The captain threatened to do all sorts of terrible things to her if Mr. Somerset did not deliver the charm to him."

"He kidnapped your mother?" The sheriff looked properly shocked. A spark of hope lit in her eyes. "You're sure it was him? I mean, maybe someone else wanted this talisman thingy or—or something?"

"Mama knew Captain Jones quite well by then, I'm afraid. I gather he'd tried to gain a foothold in her affections during the court case to get information from her."

"Gain a foothold? You mean he flirted with her?" she asked, horrified.

"Indeed. Mama turned him down, of course." Or her chaperone had. Though, to do Mama justice, Lizzie didn't think she would ever have endangered one of her papa's cases for a man. "I've sometimes wondered if that was the real reason he chose her as his victim. I don't think being refused sat well with him. He was the sort who took a woman's rejection as an insult, a challenge to be broken down. Or punished." Lizzie thought darkly of late and not at all lamented Wickham. He had lived just long enough to convince Lydia what a mistake she had made. "I pity any woman who has to deal with a man like that."

"Uh . . . yeah. Pity her."

Lydia, who may have guessed what Lizzie was thinking, said, "The ones I really feel sorry for are the ones who choose a man like that."

"Right," the sheriff said. "Feel sorry for them."

"They must feel completely disgusted with themselves. How desperate did they have to be?"

"Disgusted. Sure."

"And I really feel sorry for the ones who didn't have a good sword handy when they realized what a mistake they'd made."

"Yeah, that would—Hold it. What did you say?"

Lizzie cleared her throat and shot Lydia a warning look. Sheriff, that look tried to say. Remember? "I believe my sister is referring to when a woman realizes there is no living with such a man and sends him away. Alive. In one piece. Aren't you, Lydia?"

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Like I'd dirty my blade with him."

"Moving on," Lizzie said hastily. "The one good thing that came of Mama's kidnapping was learning something of the captain's plans. I take it the man was given to rants when he was out of temper and didn't care who was listening. More importantly, he also met with one of his confederates, a shadow creature."

"A shadow creature? You don't mean . . . like a shadow? One that flew around on its own without being attached to anyone."

The sheriff really did have a quick wit, the way she grabbed hold of these things. It was almost as if she already knew about them. "Exactly. It was delivering orders from their master, so Mama said, someone called Pan."

The sheriff looked ill. "I don't suppose that's a common name, too, where you come from?"

"Not at all. Why? Is it common here? I believe their master's full name was Peter Pan, if that helps."

"Uh, yeah. That narrows it down."

"Mama never did hear the full details of what they were planning. The best guess is they meant to raise an army of the dead and thought the talisman would help them in some way. Mama thought it had something to do with keeping a wizard they called the Dark One busy."

"The Dark One? Really?"

"So Mama said. The undead would deal with this 'Dark One,' whilst Pan went after something called 'the Heart of the Truest Believer.' Or that's what the shadow said. The captain just wanted to kill the wizard.

"The end of the matter was, they got the talisman and nearly sacrificed Mama in some sort of ritual to unleash its powers. Instead, Mr. Somerset was able to escape—they'd meant to kill him when he came with the talisman, but Mama helped him get away." No one who knew her now would think it, but Mama had been quite sensible in a crisis during her youth. All things considered, she could hardly be blamed for the change. "There was a branch of the militia stationed there who he was able to lead back. He also had some ideas how to interfere with the ritual they were performing. Truly, it's amazing some of the things the Duke of Montagu had in his library. I've always hoped for a chance to visit.

"As it was, they were almost in time. The spell was interrupted partway. Naturally, it's rather difficult to reconstruct what they were doing, but it seems they needed to remove whatever power was in the talisman and put it in a human host whose heart could be torn out and used for whatever part of the ritual came next.

"Mama was rescued partway through. They didn't rip her heart out, but it was far enough along that the talisman's power had changed her in some ways. Mama didn't absorb the protection it was supposed to offer but she has been sensitive to the presence of the undead ever since.

"A good thing, too. Whether by accident or design, the plotters had already raised at least one undead. The curse, as we learned all too soon—or not soon enough, else we might have prevented it all—can be spread through like an infection through a bite.

"The militia would not at first believe Mama when she tried to warn them what they were fighting. Far too many of their number were lost in consequence. Howsoever, Mama was instrumental in leading her family and several others to safety. She brought them to my father's family home of Longbourne." Mama had been near collapse by the time they reached Longbourne. Already weakened from her imprisonment, she had gone without sleep for days during that desperate escape, terrified lest the undead come upon them unawares while she rested.

"Longbourne is quite a well-defended spot. While the curse of the undead has been one of the worst supernatural plagues to trouble our land in many years, it is far from the first. My father's family has long held a commission from the king as defenders against such as may arise in our county. Papa had some experience with arcane matters and took Mama's tale quite seriously. The undead were not destroyed in that first battle—and they are still rather thicker about than one would like—but a pivotal victory was won. They were held back and weakened till messages could be delivered and defenders rallied.

"Mama, I admit, has never quite recovered from those days. She also finds the talent those days left her with more a burden than a gift." Mama still suffered from nerves and nightmares. She spent many a restless night walking through the house, checking that the doors were properly barred and straining her senses for some hint of danger beyond. "She has also been set on my sisters and I all marrying. We all inherited Mama's supernatural skill but, unlike Mama, Papa saw us properly trained in the use of swords, knives, guns, archery, and hand-to-hand combat. But, Mama. . . ." Lizzie trailed off realizing she was becoming indiscreet.

"She thinks you'd be better off with a man to defend you?" The sheriff sounded amused. Perhaps, as a lady sheriff, she'd had similar experiences with matchmakers.

"For the most part. My reason for telling you all this is so you will understand my sisters and I know what we speak of when we say there are undead in your town."

"Wait, we've got zombies? Where? How many?" The sheriff looked at her in exasperation. "Could you have told me that at the start instead of serving tea? How many people have had their brains eaten while you were tossing back the scones?"

Lizzie raised a hand. "Please, Sheriff. This was not an undead like the ones I am more accustomed to facing. This one was intelligent and speaking. Although, I assure you, the sense of evil around the creature positively made my hair stand on end. A direct attack seemed most unwise. Instead, we chose to lay the matter before you and lure the creature here so you could see for yourself we were telling the truth."

The sheriff looked properly horrified. "Wait, when you say undead but intelligent and speaking, are you talking about—I mean, yeah, I get why you wouldn't like him, but this captain guy you mentioned. Maybe he wasn't such a bad sort?"

"Not such a bad sort? I admire your charity, Sheriff, but thousands died because of him. He also turned tail and left us alone to face the disaster he'd unleashed."

"OK, I'm not saying that wasn't bad. But, uh, I don't know. Are you sure . . . I mean, about your mother. Maybe he, I don't know, wasn't really planning to hurt her?"

"Oh, he was quite clear about their plans," Lizzie told her. "He told Mama about them in great detail. He was quite crude about it. At one point, he told her the only reason he didn't 'jab her with his sword' was that the ritual called for a true maiden, though he admitted great surprise that she'd managed to remain one. When they were preparing for the ritual, he told her how the power from the talisman would be drained into her, leaving it, " something that was once magical, full of hope, hope, possibility. But, soon it will become dried up, dead useless. Much like you.'"

"That sounds like him," the sheriff muttered under her breath. She seemed to realize she'd spoken aloud and hastily clarified. "I mean, he sounds like the kind of guy who would say that. Not that I would know. But . . . maybe he was . . . I don't know . . . flirting?"

"If a man can reach years of maturity and think that is flirting, a sharp sword is likely the only way to teach him the error of his ways. If he can be taught at all."

"Look, I can't let you just—"

"Incoming!" Lydia said.

As one, the sisters grabbed their water guns (such clever toys they had in this world!). Lizzie also reached into the hidden pocket of her dress, put her hand through the slit and grasped the hilt of the sword nestled against her leg, pulling it out. Jane and Lydia had done the same. Kitty produced a small crossbow. Mary, the scholar of their little group, was holding her book of exorcism.

The undead sorceress walked into the room.

"Sheriff, this is ridiculous," the woman began. "This isn't your parents' kingdom, and I am not one of your subjects. You can't summon me like some peasant!"

Lydia looked smug. She'd written the message they'd sent.

"Zelena?" the sheriff said. "What are you—?"

The sisters moved into position while the undead creature's attention was on the sheriff. Kitty and Lydia were behind her by the door, blocking her way out. Mary and Jane were on either side, flanking her. Lizzie stepped between the undead creature and the sheriff, facing her head on."

Jane gave the command. "Fire!"

Water guns pumped. Mary chanted Latin. The redhaired woman screamed and began to writhe and twist under the onslaught.

"She—she's melting," the sheriff said. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Holy water," Lizzie said. It was nice to know their cousin, Mr. Collins, was goof for something. "Works quite well on a good number of unholy abominations."

The unholy abomination in question lay in a heap on the floor, but it had changed. The red hair was now dark and curly. The skin of an outstretched hand was a darker hue.

Mary nodded. "I thought so. Did I not tell you, sister, this had the prime characteristics of a living soul possessed by the dead?"

"So, you did, Mary. Does anyone sense the undead spirit? Or any dark force?"

There were four choruses of, "All clear." Various medallions were produced and held near the prostrate woman.

Mary held out a mist-colored crystal and did some more chanting. The stone turned icy white. "No sign of possession," she said.

Jane helped the now-unpossessed woman on the floor get up. "Are you all right?" she asked.

The sheriff stared at her. "Marian? I thought you were dead!"

The woman scowled at her. "Why? Because Zelena said so?"

"Uh . . . yeah," the sheriff had the grace to look embarrassed.

The woman, Marian, was still glaring at her. "Well, surprise. She didn't kill me and use my life force to make a new body. She just took over mine. And you let her."

"Hey, I didn't know you were in there."

"She told you she murdered me, and you threw her a baby shower."

"Mary Margaret threw her a baby shower. I only came for the cake."

"Whatever. I'm taking my daughter and going back to the Enchanted Forest. Don't even try to stop me."

"Your daughter? Isn't she—I mean, I thought she was—uh, Regina isn't going to like this."

"In case you weren't listening, sheriff, Zelena's been using my body. I'm the one who had a baby. Although, thanks for mentioning Regina. I'll see if Mr. Gold is willing to come with me when I get her."

"Gold—but—but he's—"

"He's a lawyer who ought to be interested in a good custody battle. Good day." She stormed out.

There was an awkward moment of silence. Jane was the first to break it. "You must be patient with her, Sheriff Swan," she said. "Being possessed would put a strain on anyone's nerves. Given time, I'm sure she will understand you only left her at the mercy of an undead, corpse-stealing abomination who had confessed to cold-blooded murder because you didn't fully understand the situation."

"Sure she will," the sheriff said without any sign of believing what she was saying. She looked around at the sisters. "So, when you said you'd meant an undead abomination, you meant Zelena? You didn't mean . . . uh . . . anyone else?"

"Why? Is there someone else?"

"No! No one else! Absolutely no one else has returned from the dead in this town!"

Mary looked up from her book of exorcisms. "You mean no one else that you know of," she said.

Lizzie winced. Mary could be far too blunt at times. "I'm sure that, now the sheriff is aware of the possibility, she will alert us if she becomes aware of other undead in the vicinity. But, watching for them is our responsibility. We have the gift for it, after all, not her."

Jane glanced in the direction the woman they'd freed had stalked off in. "Do you think we should go after her and offer assistance? She seemed quite upset."

Lizzie shook her head. "She likely wants some time alone. Most of the recently freed do. Besides, she was was going to see Mr. Gold. I'm sure he'll be able to help her."

"Wait," the sheriff said. "You've met Mr. Gold? Didn't your undead superpower or whatever it is tell you anything about him?"

"No, should it have?"

"Seriously? No sense of evil? No returned-from-the-dead alarms going off?"

"Not at all. He seemed a very charming man."

Mary spoke up. "I'd heard Mr. Gold had been hospitalized a while back. Is that what you mean? Our sense only picks up true undead. Having a heart attack and being revived wouldn't trigger it."

The light dawned. "Were you worried we were going to harm innocent residents of your town, sheriff? You needn't worry. We were trained to protect the weak, not attack them. I'm sure it's the same for you. Doing otherwise. . . . Well, it would be as if a sheriff, like yourself, defended thieves and murderers instead looking after their victims." She laughed. "It would be as if Captain Jones showed up in your town, full of dark magic and bent on unleashing the forces of evil, and all you wanted to do was keep people from knowing he was up to no good."

Kitty added, "It would be as if he were letting him court her." All the sisters laughed, including Lydia. Lizzie had been afraid she might take it amiss, but Kitty and Lydia had always had a good understanding of each other.

"Yeah," the sheriff said weakly. "As if."

Suddenly, all the sisters froze.

"Do you feel that?" Jane said, raising her sword. Mary snapped open the book of exorcisms. The others took up battle positions.

A tall, bearded man in a leather coat came waltzing in. "Hey, Swan, it's lunchtime, isn't it? What have you got for me to eat?"

An undead looking for a meal. Water guns were raised.

"Sisters," Jane said. "Lock and load!"