Chapter 9
The image in the water faded and left only the two women staring at it. The woman in green wanted to see more, was frustrated by the brevity of the image but wheezed, drained. It had cost them dearly to see this much. They both struggled to breathe. Accessing these lasts wisps of magic was becoming more difficult with each time they saw into that other world.
"She said she'd get it back." Her companion whispered, winded.
The woman in green nodded only but there was a smile, wan and watery. "About time someone did."
There was no reply to that. They'd had their differences in the past and some things still smarted between them, even through this unlikely alliance.
"Do you think…"
"I do. I have hope. For the first time I have hope." The woman in green silenced her companion.
"All of this would have been for naught."
"Even if it doesn't… It's about time she had someone on her side."
"The princess has to be brought home."
The one in green stood and dusted herself. No more images would be coming from the pond. They had exhausted it. They were exhausted, emptied to the bone. "No more. It's up to them. We lead them to each other. Now it's their choice. You know where we stand."
Her companion sighed and took in their surroundings, committed them to memory. There was a time their world was this vibrant, this beautiful. This full of meaning.
But magic was long gone and it had left a void in the fabric of the world, an emptiness, an incomprehension on how to go about life without the most basic laws. Good no longer generated good. Evil still begot evil. But for beings born out of the magic of the flowers and the wind and the earth and the water, there was still something ancient, an instinct only at first, but then a hope, frail and delicate, but alive.
And hope is a magic all of its own.
~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~
A soft light filtered through, pale and cold but the skin next to her was warm and the puffs of breath on her neck were gentle and comforting. There was an arm around her torso and a warm hand on her thigh. She closed her eyes harder, unwilling to let the light in, to awake fully. She hadn't had one of these dreams of Daniel since Snow had taken her heart, as if all her good memories had gone with the beating of it, that tiny sliver of all that was good about her gone with the beating of her heart and closed off somewhere she had no access to.
For a glorious moment, the last forty years could have been a nightmare, a fabrication and she would wake up in Daniel's arms by the river where they used to sit and hold hands as if the world had all the time for their love to bloom.
It took but only a slight whimper to realize there was no dream, no Daniel. There was Emma and it had all been real. She was not prepared for the loss of that fractional hope. It hurt like a steel knife to her gut. She opened her eyes because what was the point of keeping them closed. Emma was holding her and the day light was coming in through the window and outside there were things that wanted her dead. That wanted everything dead.
But there were arms around her and if she closed her eyes she could pretend that the soft touch of those hands was a lover's touch and that nothing could ever be broken or wrong. She didn't move, only her eyes fluttered shut. She let the warmth and the comfort seep in and create a memory to keep her warm when she returned to her world.
This was the last time she'd have human contact on her skin. She swallowed the sob of self pity because there was absolutely no point in it and committed everything to memory: the safety and the comfort, the warmth and the joy, the humanity and the naturalness of it.
She had kept Graham around because in that war, he had been the one to remind her that heartless, evil, monstrous queens are still human and need warmth like this.
Her breath evened and she slept once more.
…
The Evil Queen heard the Hunter inhale sharply and fall to his knees when Queen Snow pushed his luminescent heart into his chest. The dark throne room held its collective breath as the man took sharp gasps of air, while he stood on wobbly legs and straightened to his full height.
The Evil Queen took in his comely form and couldn't muster the remorse or the pity. She couldn't muster the self preservation either. Her breath was steady, her hands free. Queen Snow's curse complete, she could do nothing but stand there and accept whatever was to be her fate, bound as she was to the land and to its people. She had been spared to fight the enemy, not to survive those she served.
But the Huntsman, he just looked at her like he would at a lame horse or one of his dying wolves: with pity. And that she didn't want. She knew she had been summoned here for this, for the return of the Huntsman. But he bowed to Queen Snow, no longer the girl he had saved in the forest but someone embittered by time and loss, her skin dull, her eyes downturned under the weight of hate and grief.
The Queen's command was simple: take your revenge.
The Huntsman' heart ached for what was lost on both sides of that room. His sword fist thumped over his beating heart in salute. He bowed gently to the reigning Queen.
"I am forever in your debt, Your Majesty."
"What would you have of her?"
"Not of her, Your Majesty, of you." Queen Snow raised a bitter eyebrow and waited. "That you will allow me to go with her."
Queen Snow's eyes flickered in surprise. She would have wished the Huntsman to claim his prize. To repay the Evil Queen in kind, for all the things she was rumoured to have done to him. But this was not her concern. Her beloveds were well beyond her help: her True Love in an enchanted sleep, her daughter beyond her reach in a world she could not access. Anyone else was welcome to die as they pleased. Even the Huntsman.
"And why would you do that for her?"
"For our land, Your Majesty. For the ones that still live."
"That is her job."
"She might as well be emptying a water source with a thimble, Your Majesty."
It angered Queen Snow that someone, anyone, would choose that woman. She didn't bother hiding it. "So be it, Huntsman. Go then, go be a hero." And disinterested of his fate, she stood and walked away, shoulders hunched to go and be with her sleeping beloved.
Rumpelstiltskin made a show of studying the Huntsman, a finger poised against his mouth in a coquettish pose. "Well, well, well… them wolves are brave these days… You know, dearie," He circled now around the Huntsman, "She's not worth the trouble… she doesn't do what she's told, when she's told." The Huntsman stood there and The Evil Queen wondered if he was reconsidering. "Unless of course, you're looking for payback… I heard of the happy, happy times in her chambers… In which case… be my guest." He giggled and the sound bounced off the empty, cold walls of the throne room.
…
Regina sighed and let the memories go. What was the point of holding on to any of it? It had done neither she nor Snow any good. They were still both where they were and that was all there was to it.
~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~
The eyes were red, red, red, something in-between fire and blood and promised pain. Emma whimpered and the sound brought her back, slowly, from a world of hurt to soft skin pressed against her. On instinct alone, her arms flexed a little tighter around Regina's body she was rewarded by a scent of humanity- a smell of sweat and sun and hay and a warmth that pushed away at the horror of the red red eyes.
It was good, it was so good. Emma relaxed, disinclined to let go of the body against her. It had been so long, so very long since she'd shared a bed. Since she'd had someone to cuddle up to.
As of late, her life had a been a collection of scratched itches in dark alleys or seedy motel rooms, where things go bump in the dark and no one looks back.
She held on to this warmth because it had been forever since she'd had this and it would be forever until it happened again because she was no longer seventeen year old Emma Swan clinging to scarps of affection from someone with no more loyalty than a feral cat.
Maybe this morning could last her lifetime.
… … …
It didn't. Painkillers wear off and bladders fill up and the world outside takes no pity on memory building moments.
Out of the realm of sleep, she discovered that there was no reason her arms should remain around Crazy McPretty, that there was no reason she should enjoy this. She disentangled her legs from Regina's and set her feet firmly on the ground telling herself to wake up and get going because the tide waited for no sailor.
It surprised her that she could stand and walk on her own two feet without a wobble or a tumble to the bathroom. Without difficulty, she showered and brushed her teeth and when she looked in the mirror, the source of all the pain was nothing but a faint spot on her shoulder. She ran her fingers through it. Funny… she'd expected something horrible that would make her forever remember that pair of eyes and all the dead animals on the floor. A scar to match the pain it had come with. And then she remembered that most scars, the worst scars, are the ones that fester inside.
When she walked out of the bathroom, Regina was no longer in bed. She refused to acknowledge the tug of sadness at that empty space, all the more obvious as the pillows still kept the indentations of two bodies.
She slipped on some jeans and a soft sweater and decided to get some breakfast.
.
.
She found Regina in the living room by the window.
"Hey." The sound clung to her throat and was a hoarse whisper as if it had been refusing to come out and the one way to dislodge it was to harrumph and try again, this time louder.
Regina jolted and her hands went straight to where Emma now knew she kept her daggers. But then Regina's features settled into serenity, she folded her hands in her lap and it was like watching a fierce ocean change into a placid lake. And it felt just as fake.
"It's a little early for Henry." She offered and Regina digested the information but did not move away from the window. Did not look away. "Are we expecting visitors?" She challenged because she didn't really expect Regina's attention to the window to be anything but a ruse.
Regina spared her a look then returned her gaze to the window. "We were attacked yesterday."
Emma was on her, pulling her away from the window and against a wall in a hair's breadth. "What?" Her forearm pressed under Regina's chin, against her throat, closing the air flow.
"Henry and I went to a store and when we came back, a man attacked us. He had a knife. I…"
"A man?"
Regina closed her eyes because she could not nod. She could not breathe either. "I…"
"You what." It was not a question, it was a demand, filled with fury and anger.
"I stopped him." She touched her daggers. "I stopped him." She could have dislodged Emma but did not offer so much as token resistance.
"So Henry's okay."
"I killed the man."
"Is Henry okay? Did the man hurt him?" She pressed her forearm harder against Regina's throat and saw the light starting to go out of the woman's eyes but she was in no mood to care.
Regina made no movement to free herself though she could easily swat Emma away. "He saw it."
"Is Henry okay?" Emma demanded pressing harder on Regina's neck.
"He saw it."
"You're repeating yourself."
"It didn't stop me. Not here, it didn't. He saw it."
"You stopped the man."
"I killed him."
"What were you doing out?"
"We went to the store. Henry wanted to make you chicken soup."
"Chicken soup." Emma's arm relaxed her choke hold.
"Yes."
"Was it one of them?"
"A man. Just a man."
"A crackhead?"
"Crackhead? Henry saw it."
"The body?" Emma lowered her hands to her sides, deliberately relaxing her posture and Regina could not understand how she was not mad, furious, murderous about Regina exposing the child to such unspeakable violence. Had Henry been her son, had Emma been in her position and Regina would have removed her skin layer by layer while feeding her her own internal organs.
"The trolls."
"Regina, that might mean something where you come from. Here, you need to use English."
"Scavengers. They feed on the remains of what the imps leave behind. Just scavengers."
"Is that bad?" Emma felt her stomach fold into itself and churn out bile that she could barely keep down. Regina's expression meant nothing good. She had a moment to tell herself she would feel very stupid in a few days when Regina was taken to the loony bin and imps turned out to be figments of her imagination but then the scar on her shoulder tugged and pulled. She slumped on the sofa.
"It means that the imps have settled in."
"And that they are expanding." Emma surmised. Regina only nodded. "You saved Henry."
"I killed in front of him. I left blood on him."
Emma stood and made her way to the kitchen. "Yeah. But not his blood." Her hands shook uncontrollably. She opened the fridge and took eggs and cracked them with more violence than she wanted, debris of shell going into the bowl with the yolk and the whites. "For chicken soup."
It irritated her, but her hands just wouldn't stop shaking, just wouldn't stop messing everything up.
To give herself time, she switched on the TV under Regina's gaze and immediately regretted it. The level of weirdness on the news was Stephen King high, with people looking dazed at the camera and telling of how their animals had been taken or vampirised, of the expressions of horror on their dead pets' faces.
They told of how the howling of the urban foxes had muted and how the swans and the ducks in the public parks had been decimated. It made for the most bleak television Emma had ever seen, as if some weird B movie had come to pass in the past eight hours of darkness. She went to the window. If only she could just hear the damned birds that woke her up at six in the morning with their irritatingly cheerful songs she could maybe just believe that everything was going to be okay.
Two mornings ago everything was okay.
"Why are there no birds? Do they feed on birds too?"
"Only the large ones. The swans, the ducks, the crows in a pinch."
"What about the little ones?" She scanned the trees that shaded the pretty, expensive street of her building. "What about those? Those are gone."
"Those sensed it and fled."
"Shit." Regina emitted a hum that was her agreement.
Emma's phone rang. Henry's smiling picture popped up in the screen, an easy going smile. Regina committed it to memory. Maybe this could be hers to hold onto without much damage.
Emma spoke to the boy, her eyes glued to the TV, the affection something easy and palpable in her voice, the way it softened her expression and her eyes crinkled at the corners. "Yeah," She told him over and over again. "Weird, I know." And "Please be careful." And then "Henry, about yesterday…" Her throat worked tightly but she smiled as Henry reassured her softly. "We should talk about―" And she smiled as Henry interrupted. "Yeah, okay…"
Regina waited and studied. There was something between Emma and Henry, a bond stronger than blood. Who would dedicate themselves to a child that was not theirs in that way, so complete, so overwhelming?
"Driver's taking him to Lacross practise." Emma muttered to herself as she placed the phone on the coffee table. "Can't even do that herself. Makes you wonder why she'd want a kid, huh? It's like she thought he'd be good decoration."
Regina could see the agitation in Emma increasing with every word. The way her feet stomped the ground and way the slender fingers shook as Emma again picked up the bowl with the eggs and the whisk. "She barely sees him. I don't think she could pick him up in a police line-up if it came down to it." Emma punched the work surface and tossed the bowl and the eggs into the skink. "Fuck the eggs." Regina looked at the thousand tiny fragments of the bowl and the eggs dripping down the tap and the sink. "I'm not hungry anyway."
… … …
Emma had cooled down enough after a thirty minute drive. Regina silently observed the knuckles, white at first then purpling slightly from the pressure Emma was putting on her hold on the steering wheel. The movements of the gear stick were jerky and not the smooth, fluid ones Regina had seen through the corner of her eye on their way to the zoo. Leafy, clean streets soon became more concrete and less beauty, dirtier and uglier. You didn't have to know Boston or indeed this world to know that you were moving away from the money and into want and despair. She did her best to relax into the seat. To let Emma work through what was in her mind and in her heart. It was the least she could do.
To Emma, there was no point in going back home. By the time she looked around herself, she was in Southie territory and hell, something in the air was off. Really off. And it wasn't even the damp sea breeze or the low tide of the Charles River that reached this place only when it was foul, but something that cloyed the air and made her look over her shoulder.
She parked the Bug knowing that it was so old it was not worth the effort to steal it. Now that they were here, they might as well start looking. The army of the darkness would have started where the disenfranchised dwelled, where the poorest lived, where the vulnerable were even more vulnerable. And where the authorities were less likely to care. Which was no big news, the rope always snaps at its weakest point. But how would they even know it? Was there a particular scent to underprivilege that attracted misfortune?
Next to her, Regina was picture perfect a hunter. She stopped and smelled the air, her senses were alert and her stance was of readiness. Against her better instincts, Emma had a sudden feeling that no matter what came at them, she'd be okay as long as Regina was on her side. Huh. No, Emma Swan, no, no, this is not how we rock.
So when she picked up on that danger vibe again, she thought maybe it was all the being close to Crazy McPretty. Whatever and why ever, it was not usual in this dilapidated part of town. She picked up her pace and Regina followed suit. It was unnerving. Where was everyone? Where were the builders and the janitors, the hookers and the housewives that animated the area?
She spared a look at Regina. Crazy McPretty needed breakfast. No, she corrected herself, Emma Swan needed breakfast. McPretty could tag along. And Emma Swan would stop addressing her like that. It was demeaning. It was sexist. It was… Damn it! It was not Emma Swan. Emma Swan was not like that and Emma Swan was not in the business of charity. Except Crazy McPretty was not so crazy, now was she? Because those red eyes had not been a hallucination, that excruciating pain in her arm, that foul stench of brimstone was not a hallucination. Because this was past the time to believe that she'd been slipped a dose of rooffies.
They needed breakfast.
Okay, fine.
Regina needed breakfast. She still had her stomach in knots. She turned into yet another empty street. "C'mon. You need breakfast if you're going to fight these things."
"I'm fine. Let's just keep moving. Standing still makes us a target."
"We will. We'll go anywhere you want. But first, food." Next, fifty bucks for a room. Or a pillow and the couch.
When Emma pushed the door to the diner, the usual morning crowd had thinned out and the ones that remained were nervous and kept looking over their shoulders.
Just two mornings ago, this place was crowded. How could everything go to hell in a hand basket in two mornings?
She sat at the counter and motioned Regina to sit next to her. There was a noticeable silence in the hum of the diner when Regina sat in her battle worn leathers though, Emma thought for a second, that might have been because there was an awful lot of cleavage on show that was probably more in your face than the distressed dark leather of the vest and coat. Maybe. She fought a sudden urge to cover McPretty with her own jacket just to stop all the ogling.
Regina seemed unfazed as if people had looked at her like that all her life.
Maybe they had.
She considered the state of her bank account and though it was not spectacular, it could well afford a full breakfast and a change of clothes for Regina. Crazy always looks less threatening in clean clothes. Emma passed her the menu and signalled the waitress for coffee.
"Hi Rosie. The usual, please." The waitress nodded and slammed a mug on the counter, hands shaky.
"Have you seen the news?" She pointed with her chin at the big screen TV that was the centre of rapt attention of most clients.
"Yeah… Rosie… be careful, will you?"
"Yeah… with what, though? What's doing this?"
Regina looked down her hands propped primly in her lap. She didn't seem inclined to offer explanations for which Emma was not sure whether to be grateful or not. "Did you choose?"
"I…" Regina touched the menu as if it were all too overwhelming.
"Same as me?"
"Yes… Please."
Rosie placed a second mug on the counter, filled it up with steaming coffee and walked away, eyes captive of the TV. "Shouldn't we tell people? I mean… tell them to stay home and what these things are?"
"Emma… You didn't believe me until you were attacked… You thought I was crazy. I think you might still be hoping that I am and that you have just dreamed it all up."
"A little…"
"Indeed."
Emma looked around herself, at the distressed faces sitting in the diner. "If we tell them, maybe one or two will believe… go home, stay safe…"
Rosie came back with two plates that she set down in front of them wordlessly. She hesitated for a second, as if she'd been about to ask something then shook her head and walked away.
"Home is not a safe place, Emma. No matter how well you lock it. It's just a place to die like any other."
Emma stared at the grilled cheese on her plate. Fuck. "What do we do?"
"We?"
"I thought you needed my help."
"I do. To find the Princess."
"Okay, sure. What about fighting these bastards?"
"That's my job."
"I thought we'd established I get to be the plucky side kick."
"Emma… This is not your war."
"The hell it isn't. They brought it here. They brought it to me…"
"It's not… you shouldn't want to be a part of this… It's not…"
"Are you always this inarticulate?" Emma leaned forward. She found that it usually worked by way of intimidation. There was something about this woman that made her go on the defensive every stinking time. She made a conscious effort to change that. "Lady, this is early, I know, but you'll soon understand that I pay not to get into a fight. But when I'm in it, I'll pay twice as much not to get out of it."
"That's…"
"Noble?" Emma grinned behind her coffee cup.
"Asinine. Obtuse. Ridiculous. You don't know what you're getting into."
McPretty was over the line with the refined insults. Obtuse! Right… Though Regina surprised her. Again.
"Apologies. I find that I am out of practise at having conversations." And then her hands went to her lap, clasped primly and her back went ramrod straight. Emma felt her foot so far down her mouth that it was whisking the contents of her stomach. Damn it. Back up. Back up gently, Emma Swan.
"You said you needed my help." Emma strained to keep her voice down.
"Not in a fight. Never in a fight…"
If only Regina would help her good intentions instead of boycotting them with her misplaced protectiveness. "Why? Do you think I'm fragile or something? Would you take my help if I was a guy?"
"No. Emma, I… You nearly died and… well…"
"You're stuttering again."
Regina took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. "I don't know how else to convey this to you in a way you'll understand, but―"
"Why don't you try tiny little words, huh?" Emma rebated, miffed.
"You are agitated. I understand that."
"Then get to the point!"
Another deep breath, as if Regina had been trying to gather strength for a marathon. "I did terrible things. Terrible, terrible things. And all those things I've done, they make me the one that unleashed this evil on my land. So it is fitting – so it has been ordained- that I should be the one to fight it, the one to end it. That is my punishment. My covenant with the land."
"I know a big word too, you know? How about megalomaniac?"
"Why would you say that?"
"Because I've seen them. I don't know what delusion you're working under but lemme tell you, Regina, there's no way in hell this is a one man job. And the sooner you get that, the sooner you and the ones that hired you or whatever get that through your thick skulls, the faster they'll go down. And right now I have the right- damn it- I have the obligation to put my two cents in because they're here, in my world. And they are a danger to me and to the people I care about."
"Why do you let your son call another woman mother?"
"What?" Emma's coffee sloshed in her cup. Carefully she put it down and whipped the table surface with her palm. Where the fuck had Regina even…
"I'm sorry, it's none of my concern."
"Damned right it's not. What the hell, lady!"
"I apologize."
"Henry… he's… it's complicated."
Regina looked down at her plate and pushed the grilled cheese around. "I'm sure it is."
Emma leaned back. "Why would you say that?" Regina looked up waiting for clarification. "That he's my son?"
"You love him very much."
"I do." Emma let the words hang in the air because the one thing she knew was that Regina was keeping something from her. "Now spill. Explain." Emma tacked when Regina looked confused for a beat. And because the silence lingered on and there was a compromised look in Regina's face, Emma surmised that she was not going to enjoy this. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"
"I didn't mean to pry."
"You went through my stuff? What the hell? Is that acceptable where you come from?"
"It's not, no. I didn't go through your things. But…" Emma tucked her hands in her pockets and waited it out. But was always a bad word in her experience. Nothing good ever came after a but.
"You were dying. I think."
"Did I say something while I was… you know… dying?"
Regina shook her head. "Do you remember anything? How you got better?"
Well, there was that. Not about getting better, Emma though, but she remembered things that weren't her memories to have. Sort of like a fantasy, or better yet, a memory. So she just said "No."
"I'm not sure how… I don't have any magic anymore but…"
"You healed me."
"Yes."
"Damn it."
"Would you rather I'd let you die?"
"I wish this day, hell, this week started speaking words that I know instead of shit like ogres and magic and heal. I really do. I feel like I'm losing my ever loving mind, you know? No, of course you don't."
"I'm sorry."
"Yeah… you're sorry, I'm sorry… So how did you do… what you did?"
"I gave you my life force. I took in the death in you."
"Jesus!" Emma mumbled.
"But during that… exchange… well, death was not the only thing that came to me. I saw… I felt… things that are in you. I saw- I felt when your son was born." Definitely she couldn't take a bite of that food on her plate, not with the knot tight around her neck. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."
"Look… It's complicated."
"So you said. But it's none of my business. I shouldn't have asked."
Emma picked at the corners of her grilled cheese. There were many days like those that Emma tried to bury deep in her soul. Having those moments out in the air, known by others broke something in her.
"I'm not weak, Regina. I can fight. I do fight. That's all there is to it."
"I didn't say you were."
"Yeah, you did. In a way you did. You're assuming that I can't take care of myself. And yeah, okay, I got myself hurt, but believe me, it won't happen again. And you can't tell me that it never happened to you. I saw the scars on you. They got to you too."
Regina's shoulders slumped only a fraction but it was enough for Emma to see, to understand and to press her advantage. "I guess it makes you weak. According to your logic."
"I'm not weak."
Emma scented victory and for some silly reason that restored her appetite. She grabbed her grilled cheese and took a hearty bite. "Then eat. And I'm still doing this with you. Whether or not you like it."
"I don't. It's risky. It's dangerous."
"I was there. That thing carved its claws into me. So yeah, I know what I'm getting myself into."
"It's not that simple. It's not life and death only."
"Only? What else is there?"
"Power. Your world, my world? Us? We are nothing more than pawns in a game."
"Wonderful." Emma commented mid bite. "What's at stake then… what will they win?"
Regina shrugged. "I ceased being the one moving the pawns a long time ago."
Emma stopped breathing and concentrated entirely on Regina. What the hell did that even mean? The sounds of the diner snapped her attention back. She lifted the top of the grilled cheese and drizzled Tabasco liberally. She cleaned her hands on her jeans. "So you did… once."
"I thought I did."
"Huh…" She took a bite of her grilled cheese, considered, and added more Tabasco. "I have a lot of questions."
"I'm not sure I want to answer them."
"And I don't even know where to start. But I told you before. Forewarned is forearmed. Get used to the idea."
"We don't have time for this." Regina studied her untouched food, unable to eat even though she craved it.
"Eat the stupid thing, lady. They'll just chuck in the garbage. Look: I am hungry and I am going to take my time and eat this beauty of a grilled cheese. So, you know, eat or wait, up to you."
"I don't think I can."
"Eat it. I'm signing up for the plucky sidekick gig not for pallbearer. What did you want my help for? You know, the one that was not with the fight but with something perfectly safe… I'm guessing it wasn't for the food."
"No."
"Care to elaborate?"
Regina took a bite then. She chewed the food and the thoughts. "There's a princess…"
"Ah, there's a princess..." And twinge of… what was that- jealousy? No, it couldn't be.
"She… uh… she belongs in our land. But she was sent here. I must find her."
"Oh man… you just had to make it more difficult, huh?"
"I don't understand."
"No, you wouldn't. Ogres, imps, fairies… why would a princess be out of the ordinary? Actually, we have those here. I mean… not here, here but yeah, we have those. I've seen those. So no, I'm not going to freak out. No. No freaking out."
"That's helpful. I think."
"I can actually help you with that. I find people. That's kind of my thing. Why was she sent here?"
"Why?"
"Yeah... Why did they- and who's they, by the way- send you to get her? Does she want to go back? And why now?"
"She's important."
"How important?"
"She's the saviour."
"Right. Jesus in a tiara…"
It was funny but the more Emma felt out of sorts with the information, the more at ease Regina felt and the hungrier too. She took her sandwich and ate it as Emma quietly freaked out. She had her coffee – and well, that was really, quite an extraordinary beverage- and polished off her food and felt stronger for it. "Who's this Jesus?" It was really quite remarkable that things didn't look quite as bleak, her task quite so insurmountable. Yes, ReulG'horm was still out there and there was a princess to find but somehow, but suddenly, it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been only that morning.
Emma dismissed the question with a wave of her hand. "Forget it. A saviour… Jesus! Why is she here?"
"Because of me."
The sandwich that Emma had raised to her mouth for a bite was put back down on the plate. Emma cleaned her fingers and put the napkin deliberately on the counter. "Well, you do have your fingers in an awful lot of this, don't you?" Regina nodded, eyes on her plate. "Just how bad were you?"
"Evil. I was… I am… Evil. I'm not innocent, Emma. I deserve everything that happened to me. Whatever lie you're telling yourself to help you justify the help you will give, just don't lie to yourself. I'm not an innocent. I am evil."
What do you say to that? God… "Well… good for you."
… … …
Under Regina's curious gaze, Emma bought a newspaper and studied it intently. It wasn't the front page or the big fat letters that had her worried. It was the small pieces at the bottom of the even pages that drew her attention: the homeless that disappeared, the lonely, the ones with no family. The ones that no one missed until by some miracle someone did. The newspaper was full of those: the lonely old man in the basement apartment that never bothered anyone, the old woman that used to walk an arthritic dog down a family street. Those were the ones that had all but three liners in the newspaper. And it seemed that no one had made the connection yet. But Regina did. They read the newspaper together and Regina pointed at each of the small articles. "This." She said. "And this." And the picture formed in Emma's mind: they were going for the unwanted, the unmissed, the invisible. Gathering their strength. Building their numbers and populating a city with dark threat. Emma handed Regina the newspaper and pulled her hair into a pony tail so tight it pulled at the sides of her face. "This is them, yes? All these people, this is them?"
Regina nodded. "The ones that don't put up a fight. The ones that are alone are easy targets. Yes. This is them."
"How many?"
"What?"
"Cases, Regina. Articles. How many disappearances did you count since we opened that paper?"
Regina flipped through the pages. "About ten."
"Ten that were noticed. How many more that no one did?" Regina shrugged. "I'll tell you: no way of knowing. It's not like people keep an eye out for their neighbours here. Shit, lady, most people in Boston don't know the neighbour across the hall from them… Can we find them? Can we find these people alive?"
Regina just looked at Emma sadly. Emma's hand went to her shoulder. "Yes, I get it." She rubbed the memory off her healed shoulder. "What do we do?"
This we was odd for Regina. She hadn't been a we since the Huntsman had died. And it was also hopeful. For the first time it was hopeful. "We find them and exterminate them. One by one. We―" She stopped herself. She would recognize that smell of fresh death and old sweat anywhere. She opened her mind, her senses to it. "Are you armed?" When Emma didn't immediately respond, Regina unsheathed her daggers, a symmetric motion of power and confidence, and repeated. "Are you armed?"
"Yes." Shit. "Yes. I am." But Regina's focus was no longer on her. Her attention was on the small playground behind them where joy of children's laughter had been switched off leaving only deafening silence.
Emma unholstered her Glock and followed Regina's light steps with her heavy ones. It seemed the time for preparation was over. The shit had hit the fan.
