Even if His Royal Highness, Prince Henry Good-for-Nothing Mills-Swan-Cassady-Nolan had been there, Grace wouldn't have asked him if he had any idea what was going on with the music. Because, even if he had been there, he would be too busy making moon eyes at Lady Violet of Camelot to think of anything useful—or to think at all.

It wasn't like she cared. Henry had been a cute baby. She'd helped her mother babysit him a few times when she was little. She'd changed his stinky diapers—and wouldn't she like to tell Lady Violet that! Better still, she wished she could find a pile of those old, stinky diapers and give them to Violet and see if she still liked Henry, then.

It wasn't as if Grace liked Henry—not liked liked. She'd looked out for him when he was a little kid starting school and she'd listened to him when he'd gotten a little older and been upset because all his friends kept changing and he didn't. Even if she hadn't understood what he meant back then, she'd listened.

Then, when they'd finally been the same age, they'd been friends—real friends. After the curse broke, they'd stayed friends, even if Henry did go off and do crazy things sometimes, like when he tried to drop dynamite down the wishing well.

Then, thanks to Zelena, he got zapped over to Camelot and came back with Lady Violet, who thought it was so funny when she found out Grace's other name was Paige. Pages, she'd told Grace, were boys, boys who served knights and ladies.

Now, Henry was gone, off on adventures again. And he was probably going to come back with even more girls trailing after him, a whole parade who would giggle and flirt and talk about all the places they'd been that were so much better than Storybrooke. And Henry, because he was stupid, would make moon eyes at all of them.

Which was too bad because, before he got so stupid, Henry might have been able to figure out what was wrong with the music.

Grace hadn't noticed at first. There was always music in the background in this world. Stores played it. There were radios and ipods and muzak and playlists on smart phones. Even when you couldn't hear what someone was listening too, a lot of people would forget themselves and hum along. Grace remembered the time Henry had started singing along with "Only You" when it played—not really singing, just sort of mumble-whispering the words without thinking about it—and Violet had given him moon eyes.

Hmph.

It wasn't till the time she'd been switching channels on the radio—her dad (her real dad) had a beautiful, huge, walnut case radio that must have been an antique even when Storybrooke was first made and that got radio shows she didn't think were still playing in the outside world—when she heard a song.

London Underground! London Underground!

They're all greedy cu—

And, then, the song suddenly cut off, replaced by static. After a moment, the sound came back, and a different song was playing.

Trippin' out
Spinnin' around
I'm underground, I fell down
Yeah, I fell down

I'm freakin' out
So where am I now?

It had been happening for a while. She just hadn't noticed. They were all different songs but, every time Grace heard music, she kept hearing the same things over and over again.

Trapped in the dark, the muzak piped in at the pharmacy played. I'm buried alive. When she went to the diner, Granny was explaining radio to someone from Camelot (not Violet) while David Bowie sang.

Daddy, daddy, get me out of here
Ah ha, I'm underground
Sister sister please take me down
Ah ha I'm underground
Ah ha I'm underground
Ah ha I'm underground

When sea shanties played (and they did. A lot. From the books she read, Grace didn't think that happened much outside of Storybrooke either), they all seemed to have a chorus about Secrets hidden below, below, belo. It was almost as bad as all the times she heard Ding, Dong, the Witch is Dead (just about everyone in Storybrooke liked that song. But, with all the witches in the Underworld or MIA, now, they could play it).

She's gone where the goblins go

Below, below, below.

Henry, even if he was an idiot, would have had some ideas. They might even have been good ones. He was the only person who'd even realized there was a curse. Maybe he'd be smart enough to know what was happening.

But, Henry wasn't here. Grace had to figure this one out on her own and she didn't have clue. She remembered when Henry had told her about the curse. He'd told her everything. He'd even shown her the book. And Grace hadn't believed him.

She hadn't made fun of him, the way some of the kids did. And she'd never told him he was crazy.

But, she still hadn't believed him.

Grace wondered if Violet had believed Henry when no one else would back in Camelot. It must have sounded crazy when he told people they were from another world and his mom was the Dark-One-Savior-Fairytale-Princess-of-the-Enchanted-Forest-Sheriff-Bounty-Hunter.

Of course, Lady Violet was probably used to stories like that. This was Camelot and Merlin and knights having more adventures before breakfast than Storybrooke saw in a year. When someone popped in from another world, Grace bet they just asked them about the weather and asked them to tea. After all that, believing Henry must have been easy.

It hadn't been easy for Grace. Even when Henry had shown her the book, she'd thought it was just a bunch of stories. Even when she opened it on a picture of a man locked in a dark room full of hats.

Grave remembered that. She remembered the way the man seemed to look right at her. She remembered the look in his eyes, desperate, like a drowning man going down for the third time while people pretended not to see. Grace had wanted to help him more than anything. She wanted to reach out and pull him to shore.

Instead, she'd closed the book and handed it back to Henry, refusing to even look at it again. It wasn't till the curse was broken that she knew it had been Papa in the picture. He'd been trapped by Cora, the Queen of Hearts, the Evil Queen's mother. She hadn't known Papa was in Storybrooke, watching her every day, unable to come near her because of the curse. If she had known, if Papa had been able to walk up to her and tell her . . . she supposed she would have run away screaming.

Someone was trapped, Grace thought, someone who couldn't ask for help any more than Papa could when he was cursed.

She couldn't tell Papa. Papa was . . . he didn't . . . he had more good days, now, than bad days. Dr. Hopper was helping him. When Papa couldn't make himself leave the house to go see Dr. Hopper in town, Dr. Hopper called and spoke to him over the phone. Sometimes, he even came over in person and talked to him face to face. Dr. Hopper always sounded calm when that happened, but Grace had learned to watch for the worried wrinkle he got just over his eyebrows.

When Ingrid had been casting her curse on the whole town, though, Papa left the house, even though Grace could see how scared he was. The curse would make people turn on anyone and everyone. Papa took Grace to the safe room and told her to wait till she knew if the curse was past—or that there was no one left. Then, he'd left. He'd been terrified but he was more scared of hurting Grace than he was of leaving.

One moment, Grace had been huddled in a corner, trying not to cry and missing Papa. The next, she was angry. She was boiling with fury—at Papa for leaving, at her other parents for lying, at Regina for doing this to them, at Henry because he loved Regina, and at everyone else in the stupide town.

But, she stayed in the room. Because she promised. And because, angry as she was, she was too scared to go out.

Then, the anger was gone. All that was left were the angry words Grace had scrawled in her diary. Papa had come back. He was white and shaking like a leaf, but he was back.

Grace had cried and hugged him and had a tea party, just like when she was a little girl.

She'd hidden away her diary. She'd wanted to rip the pages out and tear them to bits but, every time she tried, she started to read what she'd written. It was ugly and awful and cruel.

And it was true. A little. Or maybe more than a little.

Tearing it up wouldn't make go away.

There'd been a lot of bad days after that. Dr. Hopper came to the house to check on him. Papa spoke to him at the door but he wouldn't—couldn't—let him in the house.

Telling Papa about someone trapped, someone she was trying to help? Grace couldn't do that.

If Henry were here, she'd ask him. Even if he didn't want anything to do with her, he'd help. He'd probably call it "Operation Star-Nosed Mole" and make a code book. And, even if he only showed precious Lady Violet the code book and forgot Grace had anything to do with this, he'd be doing something to help, which was more than Grace had done.

She'd spent hours trying to think what she should do but had no ideas. In the end, she tried to distract herself. There was homework, after all. But, nothing made sense and it all blended together. After staring at the same page for fifteen minutes and realizing she didn't know if it was her math book or history, she put it aside and walked around her room. When that got boring, instead of homework, she picked up a book Ms. Belle had suggested she read last time she was at the library. Opening at random, Grace came to a story where there was a big feast and a princess was dancing for some important guest of the king. But, while she danced, the princess had a dream or a vision. It was the story behind the dance about a goddess trying to pick a flower.

Boring, boring, boring, Grace thought. This was stupid. It wasn't helping. It was—

Words jumped out at her. Before I could call my mother's name the earth opened under me, into the darkest of all darks, under the ground.

Under the ground, Grace thought, staring at the page. Under. The. Ground.

When I had danced that, I was still not frightened, only I felt a dreadful sorrow, something also I'd never known. I knew it was hers, the sorrow of the goddess' mother, and that she searched for me over the earth. Her golden feet passed above my head, but all I could do was tap at the shell of the ground, and she never heard.

Grace dropped the book on her bed and ran for her phone, not stopping to think. Ms. Belle, she typed (her parents—her other parents, the ones the curse gave her—had taught her to always be polite to grownups, and Grace couldn't break the habit), I read the story. Who's trapped underground?

She sent it before she realized how stupid it was. It was just a story. Ms. Belle wouldn't know what she was talking about. Besides, Ms. Belle was missing. Grace hadn't told Papa. It would just make him fidget and worry. Grace tried not to think about it. But, Ms. Belle had vanished, and no one knew where. She wouldn't be answering Grace's text.

Except she did.

Into the darkest of all darks, the text said, under the ground.

It was the words from the story, even though Grace hadn't told which story she'd read.

Yes, she texted back. Who? How do I help them?

There was a pause. Then, three words: From Queens' Gardens.

Queens' Gardens? What did that mean?

I don't understand.

Another pause, followed by: Spoon River Anthology, The Hill.

Well that didn't make any sense. But, an idea was starting in Grace's mind. She went to her computer and googled the words.

Whereare Elmer, Herman, Bert, Tom and Charley

The weak of will, the strong of arm, the clown, the boozer, the fighter?

All, all are sleeping on the hill.

There was more. It was a poem about dead people, about a cemetery.

Dead people. Henry and the others had gone to the Underworld. Grace swallowed, wanting to run to Papa and tell him everything even if she knew she shouldn't, wanting Papa to hold her and tell her everything would be all right, the way he used to before Regina cursed all of them.

Regina. The first text had said, "From Queens' Garden." Everyone knew where Regina buried her secrets.

But, whoever she was texting to, it couldn't be Ms. Belle. Could it?

Who are you? Grace asked.

She waited, thinking she would get another poem title or something. Instead, this time, the person on the other side (was it a person?) managed four whole lines.

Something walks

Along the stair—

Something that is

And isn't there.

Grace closed her eyes and breathed in and out slowly. It was one of the tricks Dr. Hopper had taught Papa for when he was panicking.

You know about the person who's trapped, Grace sent. Queen's Garden. Underground. Is it Regina's crypt?

Whoever (or whatever) was on the other end, it had used up its direct answers.

Face Found in Frost, page 72, last line.

That took forever to find. Grace supposed it could be worse. She could be getting mysterious messages in even stranger codes. But, this was trouble enough.

I am under that stone. I was her prisoner. She is killing me. Let me go.

Grace looked at those words for a long time. She thought of Papa, the way he was now and the way he'd been when she saw him in Henry's book and ran away.

She was sick of running away.

"All right," Grace whispered. "I'll find you. I'll let you go."

Notes:

Yes, there is a book called "From Queens' Gardens."

The verse is from the poem, "The Haunted House," by Vic Crume.

The short story collection Grace was reading was "Hidden Turnings." The story was "Ceres Passing" by Tanith Lee. I changed "goddess" to "goddess' mother" for clarity.

"Face Found in Frost" is a fictional book. I took a quote from "The Face in the Frost" by Bellairs and altered it (the original reads, "I am under that stone. I was his servant. They killed me. Let me go.").

The songs are "London Underground" by Adam Kay, "Alice Underground" by Avril Lavigne, and "It's Only Forever" by David Bowie. May I add that it's harder than you'd think to find songs about being underground.