The Once Upon a Time Virtual Series
presents
Virtual Season 3
Episode 2
"Welcome Back"
(aka "The Storm")
Executive Producer: Silverbluemoon
Story By: RebelByrdie and Silverbluemoon
Written By: RebelByrdie
Illustrated By: Dalliance-Amongst-The-Stars
Edited By: Silverbluemoon
This series is Rated M for language, violence, drug references, and adult situations.
It is not intended for all audiences. Please use discretion.
Publication Date: 07/25/2014
The oil lantern swung back and forth, its weak yellow light revealing the cramped crew quarters of The Jolly Roger. Among the barrels, coils of rope and crates, two women slept in separate bunks.
Regina Mills was curled in a tight ball, hands cradled close to her chest, her dark hair spread across the thin pillow, strands cascading across her unusually pale face. She was still and quiet; the only signs of distress were her frown and furrowed brow.
Emma Swan, on the other hand (Regina's opposite in every way), thrashed in her bunk. Her hands squeezed into tight fists and she twisted from side to side, her boot-clad feet occasionally kicking an invisible enemy away from her.
The loft apartment was exactly the same as it had been the first time she'd lived with Mary Margaret. Emma pushed her glasses up to the bridge of her nose and tugged at the plaid mini dress, all too aware of her ripped tights and worn-down Docs. David, dressed like the Fairytale Prince he really was, opened his arms wide and pulled her into one of his Papa-Bear hugs, his hand holding strong and fast to the back of her head. It was a gesture she was quickly becoming comfortable with.
"My Emma. My Little Girl."
"Our Little Princess." A new voice, Mary Margaret's voice, only it wasn't Mary Margaret. It wasn't even Snow, not a version that Emma knew at least. Her hair was long and curled and fell in heavy ringlets over a white feathered dress. "Look at her Charming, she's perfect."
Emma pulled out of her father's arms to find herself in a long lavender dress, tight enough around her waist to crush her lungs and steal her breath. She wore glittering amethysts around her neck and wrist and a delicate platinum tiara, made of the finest diamonds the dwarves could mine. "Princess Emma," the Disney-fied version of Mary Margaret cooed, "You're going to be perfect and live happily ever after, you'll see." Only Emma didn't see; she couldn't see.
"This isn't me," she said clearly, to no avail, as her parents' expressions remained the same. She tried to reach out to David and Mary Margaret (Snow White and Prince Charming?), whatever and whoever they were... But then they were fading away, becoming blurred and shapeless smears of colors, as if she was looking at them without her contacts in.
"Mom!" The voice reached her in earnest and she reacted instinctively. She moved with purpose, now frantically searching for her son. Henry. She knew, deep down in her bones, that she had heard colors whirled around her, like she was stuck on a spinning carnival ride that just wouldn't quit. She felt dizzy, nauseated, and yet it wouldn't end. It would never end, she knew. The blue of the sky, the green of the grass, the yellow of her car and she just wanted it to stop. She just needed a moment, just one minute to stop and think and breathe.
Henry ran towards her, arms held out wide. "Mom! Mom!" Suddenly she was back to that first night. Dressed in her skinny jeans, white tank top and red leather jacket. A bounty hunter who lived day to day, catching crooks who skipped out on their bond agreements for quick cash (usually spent on medium quality scotch, very good music and season tickets to the Bruins). What the hell did she know about being a parent?
"Mom!" Henry ran to her, looking no worse for the wear. She found herself confused and skeptical, her mind reaching for something she couldn't quite articulate. But here he was and he seemed fine, so as he wrapped his arms around her in a big hug, she let it ride. Whatever her mind had been trying to tell her could wait. "I knew you would save me."
Emma couldn't help but smile. "Well of course, Kid, I am your m-"
"The Savior!" Henry interrupted.
She was growing to hate that title.
"The Savior!"
Suddenly her arms were around nothing but thin air. "Henry!" she shouted, alarmed like only a mother could be, only barely hearing herself over the roaring din of people calling out for her.
"The Savior! The Savior! The Savior!"
Voices swirled around her. It was like being in an underground metal club mosh pit, everyone screaming and thrashing with an untamable energy. It scared her. This was getting out of control, becoming dangerous. And where was her son? Then a hand grabbed onto her jacket. Emma tried to pull away, tried to find Henry, to find space, to get away, to run, but she was surrounded. Hands, of all shapes and sizes were reaching for her, grabbing onto her, ripping her apart.
"Save me!"
"You're our only hope!"
"The Savior!"
They tugged and pulled. They groped and ripped. One hand was wrapped around her hair. One hand was wrapped around her knee. One hand, tipped with sharp dark red fingernails, sank into the soft skin between the bones of her wrist and wrapped around the boot lace, Graham's boot-lace, that she habitually wore.
"Save me! Save me! Save me!" they moaned in discord.
"Only you can save us!"
"Only you!" shouted another.
"Only you can do it now, Emma. It's all up to you." That last voice there came through to her so clearly, so isolated, there was something. . . What was it? She strained to hear it again, certain she was onto something important. But then it was gone. In fact, all the voices and hands were gone now, all but for one unmistakable set, wrapped around her own.
The portal was green and pulled at her, trying to tug her into it, back through to the Enchanted Forest or whatever backwards Fairytale dimension it wanted to throw her into. Neal, Baelfire, whatever, was holding onto her for dear life. His eyes- those intensely serious dark brown eyes that no longer held the gleam of youth and mischief that they once had-connected with hers. His hands started to slip through hers.
"It's all up to you, Em."
She tried to hold him tighter, "I can't do this alone! Any of it! I'm not the Savior, I'm just-"
He slipped out of her grasp and fell into the swirling portal.
She stared at the swirling green whirlpool as it grew bigger and bigger, swallowing everything whole. Then there was darkness, a new world floating into view around her. "I'm no one's savior." She said, her head dropping to her chest. She looked down at her hands. "I'm just-"
"Emma."
Her head snapped up. She knew that voice. Regina stood before her, deep in the mines once more. The diamond glowed as it floated midair in front of Regina. The other woman, Henry's other mother, was in the gray dress she'd been wearing the first time they'd met. Her lips were painted the same dark, slick red and they were was, however, her hands that captured Emma's attention. They were shaking. They were burning. The damage climbed from her fingertips to her wrists, magic rushing through her, over her olive skin, turning it into a charred and blistered mess.
"Regina!"
She reached out to pull the woman away from the trigger or at least help her, but she was frozen in place.
Regina's hands started to turn black and flake away, like embers and ash escaping a fire. A tear, shining like the diamond she fought to contain, slid down Regina's cheek. "Why won't you save me?" The burning flesh of her hands was flaking away and the damage was crawling up her arms, eating her alive.
"Regina!" Emma yelled, trying desperately to stand, to reach her, to do anything at all, but she could not. She had to look on helplessly as Regina suffered.
"Regina!"
And at that, Emma sat straight up, thrusting the twisted scratchy wool blanket off of her legs, still trying to get away from something, everything. Her jaw was set, teeth ground together so hard she thought she heard a molar pop. She could still feel the unshed scream burning in her lungs. She pushed her sweaty hair out of her face and opened her jaw slowly, letting the strain wash over her without so much as a peep. As a rule, she never screamed, mumbled or moaned while sleeping. Screaming out during night terrors, no matter how legit they were, didn't work in your favor in the system. It could get you booted out of good homes, sent to see shrinks, sent to lock-down facilities, or worse, force-fed so many meds that you could pass for an extra in a zombie movie. Emma had seen it happen one-too-many times so she'd learned to keep her mouth shut, no matter how bad her dreams were.
She scooted to the edge of the tiny bunk bed and pushed off. It took a minute to get her footing because the ship was tossing pretty hard. It was like Hook had decided to drive/sail/whatever over the ocean's equivalent of rumble-strips or something. She looked over at the other bunk where Regina lay, still and quiet. She wasn't sure if the other woman was sleeping or not, but hoped so; she didn't wish nightmares like hers on anyone, let alone the woman who– she grabbed hold of the nearest wooden support, jarred suddenly to one side. It was jumbled in her head now, but the fear, the cold tingles in her spine, still prickled under her skin, almost like the fingers from the dream. The floor leveled momentarily and she let go and stretched, feeling her shoulders and vertebrae pop.
"Ow," she groaned, rubbing her sore neck. The ship heaved again and she struggled to pick herself up off the floor, distinctly remembering how it had felt to be tossed on her ass like a ragdoll in the mines. She used another wooden support to pull herself back up and had only started to catalog her bumps and bruises when suddenly the floor, the whole room really, tilted to the left. It was sudden and violent and completely surreal. She fell to the left like gravity owned her and only just avoided knocking her brains out on a spare oar. She briefly thanked her lucky stars, turning her head just in time to see Regina grab onto the edge of her bunk. If she hadn't been awake before, she definitely was now. Regina didn't even get a chance to say anything snarky before the hatch door flew open and Snow's face appeared. Her dark hair was plastered flat to her head and she looked paler than usual, her eyes wide.
"We need your help up here."
. . . Thank you for reading! You can now receive update alerts by following/favoriting this story here on ff.n (or subscribing on ao3), as a portion of each new episode will be uploaded in both locations as soon as we publish on our main site. Please find the rest of this episode *AND* its amazing illustrations at ouatvs *dot* com.
