Regina forced her stiff legs to move, waddling through the fluid black void. The sensation was nothing like a portal; not a swirling vortex of blurred colour swallowing them on one and spitting them out on the other end. She dared not call out to the others, for the mysterious presence threatened to crowd into her mouth and silence her forever.
Had the Dark Curse felt like this? Back then, Regina had awoken amid cool satin and soft cotton sheets, and had never bothered considering how her victims' experience might have differed. Where were they now?
A tentacle wrapped around her ankles with eerie gentleness, not hurting her but an obstruction nonetheless. Struggling feebly, Regina lost her balance and stumbled towards the lazily swirling ground. Instead of hitting the bottom, however, she collided with a mass of arms and hair and ice-cold sweat.
A distant clink of glass resounded with shocking clarity and audacity, magnified by a thundering echo. The ground trembled and began to tilt dangerously. Regina lost their footing and, for one horrible moment, hung upside down in the air. Little by little, the tentacles uncoiled and released their grip on her. There was nothing to halt the fall now. She hurtled through an ocean of thick black substance come to life and down a narrow neck of cracked, ink-washed glass - a giant inkpot spilling its contents onto the once pristine pages of a yellowed, aged book that lied forgotten.
Scorched grass scratched her palms. A sharp rock was cutting painfully into the small of her back. A raven cawed.
Regina didn't need to open her eyes to know where they were. She didn't need Snow White pushing herself up from the ground beside her and breathing, in a voice filled with a bitterness to match Regina's own, the dreadful words Regina had hoped never to hear:
"We're back."
"We should head for the palace, make our headquarters there. See what state the land's in," Charming maintained.
"It's in disrepair and chaos," Grumpy snorted. "Snow already told us that when she and Emma had come back from the Enchanted Forest, right?"
"So we'll rebuild. Reinstate order," Charming countered, unfazed. "And make plans."
"For what? A new life?" Grumpy glowered. "The previous one had been forced on us, too, but I had warmed up to it, and now someone else comes and casts a curse to take it away? How many times are we supposed to start over?"
A murmur of agreement rippled through the group.
Charming raised his hands in defense and a call for quiet. "Maybe we don't need to start over." That gained him their full attention. "Maybe we can fight to get our family back. Emma and Henry."
Regina's chest constricted at the sound of Henry's name.
Charming, true to his notions of leadership, had called a council immediately after the first shock had worn off, which for most of them had been soon enough. They were sitting on logs on a small clearing and with Charming's irritating inspiration and Grumpy's permanent grouchiness the discussion was promising to become a heated and lengthy one.
Regina couldn't care less what either of them had to say. In fact, she felt she wouldn't care if Granny were to try to spit and bake her over the fire as part of the dinner the woman had set to collecting herbs and mushrooms for. Never in her entire life had Regina felt so utterly helpless, defeated, and resigned.
Strangely, Snow wasn't participating in the discussion, either. It would normally be her role to sing ceaseless songs of hope until they either believed it or simply went with it, just as long as that stopped her pestilential ranting. This time, however, Snow kept to herself, silent and staring vacantly into space. Regina turned away at the sight of a tear rolling down Snow's face. Despite the hollow pain clawing at her insides, Regina had no tears to cry.
"...if we work together, we might stand a chance."
"Yeah, yeah," Grumpy growled. "Let's take this up after dinner again."
"How can you think about food with a curse on our hands?" one of the dwarfs objected - Regina couldn't be bothered to distinguish between them.
Grumpy's all too practical approach might normally have caused her to bristle but it was Charming's words that made bile rise in her throat. She couldn't endure another Neverland with these people. Not here, not now, not like this - not with Henry gone forever. Regina had no fight left in her, for she had nothing left to fight for.
"I'm going to Rumplestiltskin's castle," she stated matter-of-factly. She had spoken quietly, without raising her voice in the slightest, yet everyone seemed to have heard. Their puzzled looks made no difference to her - not even the hint of anxiety she fancied to have noticed in a pair of eyes, or two. Charming gave her a disapproving look - she had come to know those only too well - and she braced herself for a tirade about how teamwork was the answer to all the world's problems.
"Then I'm going, too," Belle interjected. Neal livened up for a moment, then seemed to have changed his mind and dropped his eyes.
Regina gave Belle a dark look - she was going to ruin everything. At the sight of Belle's anguished but defiant face, though, Regina felt her own features soften somewhat. Belle had lost someone, too, someone she clearly cared deeply for. Her desire to pay his residence a visit was completely understandable. Nevertheless, Regina would have none of it. She didn't care for company, much less that of someone with the kind of history she and Belle shared.
"No," she stated point-blank, stretching to her full height. The dwarfs, with the exception of Grumpy, who merely frowned, backed away. Granny stiffened and rested a hand on her crossbow. Hook watched the scene with vague interest and Charming stepped forward.
For the first time since arriving, Regina fully realised that, as everyone had changed to their former fairytale persona, so she must have, too. The moment she acknowledged this, she became aware of the tightness of her elaborate hairstyle and the weight of her grand gown, and her skin prickled at the presence of an old acquaintance: the Evil Queen, an ally and enemy both. This time it would be the former. Regina snarled - she had intended for it to be malicious and dangerous, hoping to scare them into letting her go without further ado, but much to her frustration she felt the glare had come short. It had been a while, and apparently the pain was getting the best of her. Yet it would have been precisely that pain to feed the flames of her anger, once. Why didn't she feel the fire now?
Charming made another step forward and prepared to speak. Would she have to resort to uglier means to get her way? Could she muster the energy when she felt so incredibly exhausted?
But it was Belle again who raised her voice before anyone else had the chance to.
"Why his castle of all places?" she asked with her chin turned up. Unlike the dwarfs, she was showing no sign of fear, which earned her a mixture of respect and sympathy from Regina. If Belle's sorrow was anything of the overwhelming nature of Regina's own, Belle would not fear for her life anytime soon.
"Because of the magic, of course," Regina retorted without hesitation. "If there's a way to undo this curse - which unless I am mistaken is your wish, too," she shot Charming a challenging look, "Rumplestiltskin's castle is the place to look." The lie had come easily. Perhaps it wasn't even a full-fledged lie; perhaps she might eventually reach for the odd book in Rumple's extensive library in search of some powerful means of reversing the curse. She doubted it, but it was a possibility all the same. At the very least, it made a decent argument.
Not to Charming, apparently. "Regina, I really don't think splitting u-"
"Let her go," Snow cut in, speaking for the first time since stating the obvious at their arrival. Heads turned in surprise, as if everyone had forgotten about her presence. "Let her go - alone."
Now that was a most surprising turn of events, and Snow certainly a most unexpected ally.
"But, Snow..." Charming muttered with a look of worry etched in his face.
That was understandable - Snow would always be the one to stress the crucial importance of being united. Well, clearly she'd had a change of heart. Perhaps Snow wanted to be rid of Regina. Regina wouldn't blame her if that were the case. There'd been enough strife between the two of them to last a dozen lifetimes, and even more so now that Snow had lost part of her family again, might be not directly to Regina's ill-will this time but still in consequence of her past wrongdoings. Regina dismissed a stab of guilt and strove to shut out the part of her that actually felt hurt by the notion of Snow's dismissal - Regina had, after all, given Snow's daughter the greatest gift she could think of: that of a happy ending. No, it was far more than that - it was Regina's own happy ending she had bestowed on Emma. The thought of Emma and Henry was salt in her wound, so she fought to dismiss it.
Either way, Snow's attitude suited Regina, and what did she care about the rest? What did she care about anything anymore?
Snow rose and stood facing her. "Stay for dinner," she said simply. "Then no one will keep you."
The reasonable thing would be to get a night's sleep and depart at daybreak. Regina would not linger so long.
In the dead of night, when the air was filled with hoots and snoring - the former she attributed to owls, the latter was clearly Grumpy in chorus with, to Regina's slight amusement, none other than Granny - Regina rose, left the improvised bedroll and the food untouched, and stole away into the trees. As long as she had magic she needed no more.
After just a few dozen steps, however, she heard tentative footsteps hurrying behind her. What now? Her blood boiled and cooled again. She just wanted to get away, nothing more. Why was that so hard to understand? Why would they insist upon her staying with them anyway? They could be a team together, without the hated cause of their misery. Regina didn't turn to confront her shadow but pressed on faster, hoping against hope that perhaps whoever it was would get the hint and leave her be.
Next thing she knew she heard a small cry and a thud as something hit the leaf-strewn forest floor. Regina groaned inwardly. Could Snow be any more clumsy? And whatever made her turn back and wait for Snow to get back on her feet and make her way to Regina across the foliage?
"Regina," Snow gasped urgently, brushing dust off her impossibly impractical white garments.
"What?" she snapped. Apparently Snow's promise to not stand in the way of her departure had meant nothing. How typical.
"It'll only be a minute," Snow assured her. "I just want you to know that..." she hesitated. Was Snow enjoying teasing her? "I wanted to tell you that you're welcome to join us when you're done mourn- I mean, studying Rumple's books."
That was unexpected. Regina was certain her face betrayed that much. Snow smiled sadly.
"I knew you wouldn't believe me. Well, it's true. I don't know what rebuilding will eventually come to mean." Snow's shoulders slumped and she just stared ahead for a moment. "I guess we need to start somewhere," she shrugged, "and I figured you'd better know we're counting on you to be a part of it - when you're ready."
So Snow knew. Regina had been wondering if anyone would see past the rational argument she had made, when for some time she had attempted to keep the real reason a secret even from herself. Snow had guessed the depth of her grief and understood that it bore no company, especially not company that Regina found so hard to juggle even at the best of times. The thought of someone reading her so well threw Regina well outside her comfort zone. Snow showed an irritatingly good insight into her at times even after all these years.
Regina surveyed her closely. Snow hadn't been acting her usual cheerleading self. Regina mulled over Snow's words - everything about them suggested uncertainty and a complete lack of enthusiasm. Something stole its way into Regina's heart that she hadn't felt for Snow for ages. Could Snow feel equally beaten as she did? After all, she had lost a child, too.
"Are you?" Regina asked quietly. "Ready?"
A small smile flickered on Snow's face but did not linger. Her eyes bore into Regina's, and although Regina felt an urge to turn away, something made her hold the gaze. Snow swallowed hard and, at long last, shrugged. A moment of silent understanding passed between them, leaving Regina with a shiver and an unusual trace of comfort. Someone understood her, and for a brief, extraordinary moment, it didn't scare her.
"I don't know, Regina," Snow shook her head listlessly. "But I guess we must try our best. There's always hope, right?"
But was there?