A DEAD RINGER

CHAPTER I

Emma, a key witness in a criminal investigation against Alistair Gold seeks help from her estranged sister. When Ava Jones offers her life in return for freedom, Emma assumes her identity - seeing a way out from her destructive life. She soon realises that her sister's marriage and life are not as perfect as she was lead to believe.

Note: I don't own once upon a time, obvs. I'm just playing around with the characters. This story is inspired by Ringer.


It's mid-afternoon when the Jitney pulls into the Hamptons, a cluster of people pilling out of the bus, some in groups and others alone. The look on their faces are matched, all yearning for one thing, escapism. Her dark brown riding boots hit the concrete floor, jeans stained from the take-out hot chocolate she'd bought hours before.

A polished figure steps forward, honeyed smile on lacquered lips, "Emma," the voice whispers, arms wrapping around her. No one cares to notice the two sisters hugging, Emma feeling almost safe in Ava's arms. After Ingrid had died, Emma never thought she'd feel that again, the safety of family. Her entire world had darkened, drinks from the bottle flowing easier, bad relationships getting tougher.

Letting out a relieved sigh, Emma rests her chin against her twin-sister's shoulder, "I missed you," she murmurs, pulling away to stand a few inches in-front of Ava. It was hard to forget the face of Ava, since it stared back at her everytime she glanced in cracked mirrors in decaying rooms. It had been long, too long, since she'd set eyes on her sister, the secrets and horrors between the two of them, tearing them apart.

"You dyed your hair back blonde," Emma notes, eyes falling over her twin's matching locks. For many years, Ava had decided to separate herself from the 'Swan' look, and instead dyed her golden mane a dark shade of chocolate which was often pulled up into an elegant chignon.

"I felt like a change," she begins, patting Emma on the shoulder."The driver is taking us to Manhattan tomorrow afternoon, so we've got some time to catch up before I introduce you to Killian." As Ava moves to walk ahead, Emma takes her time to embrace the moment. For as long as she can remember, Ava is the only person that ever came back after leaving. They'd been dropped off on the side of the road, forgotten and unloved, just two little baby girls with no parents and only each other. Eventually, their adoptive mother had come into their life and given them a brighter future than the one they were originally destined for. Ingrid had been the mother that both girls had dreamt of, and it broke Emma to see the only mother she'd ever known fade with illness.

Afterwards, Ava had made a life for herself as a socialite, married some rich guy and left Emma all alone. She'd always expected that Ava would leave her at some point, the elder twin of eleven minutes was stronger than she was, more open to things, including love. Meanwhile, Emma hung around bad buys, first Walsh and then a slimeball doctor. Chris was the exception, a six month relationship that finally had her trusting, and then he had to move away. Once again, Emma was alone, but she was used to it by then.

She'd been serving drinks in a strip club when Neal Gold came into her life, suave and sexy, and although she didn't realise it then, just as slimy as his father.

"Where is Killian?" Emma questions, shifting the small duffle on her shoulder to the other, alleviating some of the aches which had begun to arise.

"He's in London visiting his brother Liam. He and his wife Elsa are moving over to the states."

When they arrive at the Hampton house, Emma sucks in a sharp breath. There is more space in one room, than she's ever had in an entire apartment.

Her eyes close and she remembers laugher, the faint smell of bleach, the warmth of a man's breath on her ear. Revulsion washes over her as she saw the face of her darkest nightmare.

"Hey, where's your head at?" Ava asks, voice laced with concern.

Over the years, Emma's walls had built up and she no longer trusted anyone, not even her own sister. Telling Ava everything was too much, much more than she can ever handle.

"Detective Humbert is going to be looking for me."

Her sister says nothing, simply guides Emma to the room she'll be staying in for the night, "Get some rest,"

The door is closed, and just liked that, Emma i alone once more. She doesn't dare remove her red jacket, it feels like the only protection between herself and those who are desperate to get her. If Graham is searching for her, then Gold certainly will be.

A stray glance at the clock which sits grandly in the corner, states that it's just after 8 in the evening. Emma gazes at it for several minutes, transfixed, watching it tick-tock away. It was only when it nears 9 that she dares to put on the pyjamas that Ava lad left out for her.

Her hands raised, watch glistening under the torch light, lip caught betwixt her teeth. Her heart thrummed erratically, mind placing the pieces together. Her heart ached with the betrayal, the only man she'd ever truly loved, had betrayed her. The prince of Las Vegas they called him, Neal Gold, every bit his father's protege it would seem. Emma had always looked over at the elder Gold's wife with pity, she thought that it would be a terrible pity to stick by a man so cruel, when you have so much good.

When Detective Humbert had come forward with an offer, freedom in return for the dirt on Alistair Gold, of which she knew plenty. Gold was a snake, blackmailing pregnant women and shooting men in the leg until they walked around crippled. Watching him torture August had been the final straw, the man was her friend and she could let it endure, she'd told Neal that they couldn't just stand by and do nothing. She thought Neal had a heart.

When the next victim was wheeled in Keith Nottingham, and soon after the room was bleached, removing any trace of the man, whilst Neal pulled the hair away from neck, exposing her bare shoulder, whilst he whispered against the crook of her neck that they had one last job to do.

The moment had repulsed her, already sickened by the sight before her as Neal's hands roamed. They'd slept together that night, him routinely rutting above her whilst she lay there, unamazed. She hadn't voiced her boredom, he at least made sure she came every time. But she may as well have slotted it in with her routine appointment with the doctor, it was so systematic.

With the memories permeating her mind, she finds a need to escape as she opens the french doors in the bedroom which lead out onto the beach, feet sinking in the sand the moment she steps out, happily embracing the breeze as it tugs enthusiastically at the pyjamas she wears, hair whipping slightly around her.

Her feet drag across the sandy terrain, arms lifting to wrap around herself, as she stares out at the sea, watching the way it laps hungrily at the sand. The twilight sky has not yet fallen into complete darkness, and she can make out the silhouettes of a family clustered around a small fire, a perfect quartet of wealth and pristine, sitting on persian blankets.

"Couldn't sleep?" a voice questions, breaking Emma away from her trace. Reluctantly, she tears her gaze away from the family to look at her sister.

There is something in strange in the way her sister looks, as though she too is carrying demons, that cause Emma to feel unsettled. "Is everything okay?"

Ava gives response that anyone would've believed, but Emma knows better.

"You're lying," she argues, arms crossing. Of course, Emma is in no position to judge, but she's desperate to mend the fractured pieces between them.

"Why aren't you with Killian in London?" Emma queries suddenly, worrying that it's due to her.

"I had some things to take care of here. Not only to see you, but other things."

They sit in the sand, Ava retrieving from behind her a bottle of wine, "I saw you wandering down here," she admits, pressing her head against Emma's shoulder. "I do forgive you for everything that happened with Sean and Ashley. I brought it on myself and you were just doing the right thing."

Then, as though the moment had not happened, Ava sits up straight and pours out two glasses of wine whilst Emma glances back at the water. There is something so calming about it that she'd never realised before.

Like a sheet of black silk draped over the skies, darkness has fallen around her. The first thing she notices, quite alarmingly, is that she was completely alone.

Beside her, tucked beneath a few grains of sand, are the remains of a stark white letter, with her name swirled on the front. She flings her head out, vocalising her worries in one name, "Ava!". No response comes, just the sound of waves cooly crashing against the shoreline.s

Nervously, she'd plucks up the letter and traced her fingers over the swirling penmanship - something she's never mastered in her less lavish settings.

Her first and only thought remains on Ava. Where has she gone?

Tucked inside the envelop lies a small card, with words 'It's time for a fresh start, for both of us. You need safety and I need freedom' etched in ink onto the paper - which is joined by two rings, Ava's I.D and the necklace of a swan.

Alarmed, head whipping from side to side out towards the sea and the long stretch of water, Emma calls out once more "Ava!"

With her head in clutches of her hands, Emma sits for hours on the beach, stationary, waiting for something, anything to tell her what to do.

As the sun creeps up, her tired eyes fill with tears, there's no one for her. Ava's note may have been vague, but the items which joined it are not, she wants Emma to take her place. It's wrong, terribly wrong and yet the fear of the Gold family made her take notice of it all. Can she do it? Can she be Ava?

"What am I thinking? This is madness," she mutters to herself, attention caught by a passing jogger - a male in his early twenties, muscles rippling with every movement, as he cast a wink towards her, "Morning Mrs Jones." Her brow quirks, does Ava know him?

Shaking her head, Emma stands up and hurries over to the house, blonde hair swishing. He thought she was Ava, so will everyone else.

The preparation to be Ava Jones begins with a shower, dousing herself in the luxurious products that her sister had lying about. Then, after she's infused coffee into her morning, she styles her hair into a simple ponytail and does her make-up to the Ava standard, finishing with a nude peach to the lips. The clothes are another thing, just a touch too big with a flourish of elegance and luxury that she'd never known. In the end, Emma pulls on a pair of designer jeans, with an embroidered white top and then a blazer, feet slipping into dark grey suede boots.

Emma has learned from looking at Ava that accessories were the key to it all, so she adds bangle to her wrist and a small pendant necklace. It's everyday casual for Ava, and more money than Emma had ever worn. Despite dating Neal, who is certainly affluent, he never treated her to gifts or suggested she wear nicer things, she still worked as a bail bondsmen whilst he rose in both wealth and popularity with the ladies.

Lastly, Emma slips on the two rings, one a beautiful diamond and the other simpler, she imagines to match Killian's own.

She has no idea what to expect with her arrival in Manhattan, people who've known Ava for four years, she will regard as a stranger. Her finger flicks through Ava's phone, which she'd found in the master bedroom, the password being the year they were adopted by Ingrid. The pictures allow her to imagine part of Ava's life, miniscule as it may be.

She sees a picture of Ava and Killian, then the arm of a small child. It's only when Emma uncrops the picture that she notices the young girl, likely about 12 years old. It's strange to her that Ava would crop out the young girl.

The journey isn't too long, and soon enough the car door is being opened and she's greeted by the sight of a doorman. "Good evening, Mrs Jones."

Emma nods her head, returning with a soft, "Good Evening." Her polished nails press the button in the elevator to the penthouse suite, imagining it's the only place plausible for her to go. She steps inside nervously

The instant the elevator doors ding open, Emma is met by the sight of her husband. He turns, and she swears she's never seen such beautiful eyes before. She loathes the way she feels when her sight falls on him, breath caught in her throat, desire, lust and happiness. It's not hers, it's not real, but she'd happily have him. How could Ava leave this life? How could Ava leave a happy ending, a family in search of what she called freedom?

Emma walks forward to place a kiss on his lips, a soft sigh leaving her, presuming that Ava would've done the same. Although there's no reluctance in her to kiss him.

The moment she pulls away, his face shows the annoyance she'd not earlier recognised.

"You're late, we've got the charity gala in an hour for the at risk and orphaned children of New York," Killian announced, checking his watch several times. Emma went to open her mouth, as his hand rose to stop her words from falling. She's shocked, what is going on?
"Not now, Ava. I'm jet lagged and have no time for your silly little games. Go put on the dress I paid for." Seething, Emma stomps through the house, eventually finding the dressing room and sits down, was that how Killian spoke to her sister? Her fingers curl around the cushion of the padded chair, annoyance radiating from her. She glances up at the black gown with distaste, she was not wearing that on principle. He wanted to talk to her like that, then she was going to wear something else.

Walking over to where a rack of long gowns rested, Emma pulled out one of ice blue and settled it against her skin, it would work perfectly.

"Pig headed asshole," she mutters to herself. Hot pig headed asshole. changing her lingerie from the plethora found in a large drawer in the dressing room, which will suit the dress far better than the basic set she's wearing. The dress is slipped on next and she's amazed by how right it feels on her skin, the pale blue almost iridescent against her complexion. She pulls her hair from the ponytail and twists the curly strands into an elegant bun on back on her head, letting some pieces fall loosely. As Emma touches up her make-up, she realises that Ava likely has someone come around to do her hair and makeup, but she can't be sure.

Killian comes in and only appears to be more annoyed, "I told you I was too tired to play games. Doesn't it ever get tiring for you? The last time you wore that dress, we were happy and now were not. Thank you ruining another memory."

She catches his sadness, despite his reluctance to let her see it. It's clear that the marriage between Ava and Killian is not as perfect as she'd been led to believe. There's a pang of something unrecognisable upon seeing his sadness, as though she feel compelled to be his saviour, to relieve the pain.

"One more glass and you'll be 5 parts rum, one part human," Emma mutters later on that evening, causing Killian to spin around in his expensive shoes. His stormy eyes look deep into her own, a smirk lifting onto his rum tainted lips, "I don't know where you've got this new found sarcasm from, but cut it out."

Emma doesn't understand Killian. When they first arrived at the gala, it was as though he'd had a personality switch, lovingly holding her hand and kissing her cheek, his arm caught around her waist and he whispered how beautiful she was. Even muttered about how happy he was that she'd dyed her hair blonde again. And then, nothing, the gala continued and he stuck to the bar, and she smiled at others feeling alone in a crowded room. No one approached her, which she found peculiar. That was when she'd walked over to find him with a slight sway in his step.

"Come on love, you used to love our rum filled nights," his words are a mix of flirtation and bitterness, and Emma bites down her words. She can't claim to know anything about Killian, what she's supposed to like and not like. She's not Ava, and this is not easy.

The next thing she knows he's closer, a soft breath against the shell of her ear, arm wrapped around her waist. "I've never been enough for you." What surprises her is the physical reaction she has to his breath against her ear, it's wrong and she can't help but enjoy it. Emma for the first time since meeting him, although it was only a couple of hours ago, how attractive he is. She glances up at him, heart pounding, it's not pity she feels but desire.

"That's not true," she responds, Ava must've loved him.

Killian looks at her sadly, and shakes his head, "When was the last time you said the words?"

"Killi, I…" His lips are on hers, hands on her waist drawing her in. She doesn't want to stop, but she knows that she should.

I hope you enjoyed. Please review, favourite, alert etc.

Until next time