The questions come fast and furious, voices overlapping, rising to compete with one another, bouncing louder and louder off the walls in the small apartment.
"What do you mean, Regina's back to normal?"
"You saw my mom? She's here? Can I see her?"
"How do you know? Did she say anything? Where's Cora? What are they planning?"
"I want to see her now Emma, can I?"
Emma rubs her temples, fighting a splitting headache and sheer exhaustion. She hasn't eaten in over twenty-four hours, hasn't slept in even longer, and there's a strange electricity still humming in her veins.
I kissed Regina.
Emma holds up a hand, pleading for silence. After a moment the voices die off. Three sets of eyes stare at her, full of questions.
She turns to Henry first. Bends down on creaky, tired knees and looks up into his face. His hair has grown while she was away, no one has thought to give him a haircut. Thick dark strands hang over his forehead, sleep-rumpled and messy, half-covering his eyes. He tosses his head slightly to flick the hair out of his face, gazes down at her in hope and trust.
"Your mom's back, Henry," she says. "I'm sorry it took so long. She had forgotten everything but I think... I'm pretty sure she remembers again. I'm pretty sure she's back to normal."
"Whoo hoo!" Henry whoops and punches the air. He throws his arms around Emma, hugs her tight. "I knew you could do it! I knew you could save her too!"
For a moment Emma sinks into the hug. Into the friendly arms that belong to a boy who thinks she's a hero, that she can do no wrong. But it's a luxury she can't allow herself. She squeezes Henry back briefly, tightly, and then pulls away.
I kissed Regina.
Emma shakes her head, trying to clear her thoughts. "Don't thank me yet kid. I'm not sure it was really my doing," she suggests, glossing over the alarming truth that she still hasn't had time to digest. "Besides, we have bigger problems on our hands."
"Do you mean Cora?" he asks. His voice is serious, his face worried. His understanding is, as always, far beyond that of a normal eleven-year-old.
Emma pushes to her feet, rests a hand on the back of one of the wooden chairs and slumps down, allowing it to support some of her weight.
I kissed Regina. She kissed me back.
"Yes." She nods, then sighs. "And I'm not sure where your mom is right now. She's probably with Cora. So you may need to wait to see her, okay? Can you hang in there?"
Henry nods, serious and responsible.
Mary Margaret steps forward, having contained herself for as long as possible. "You said she has her memories back. How did that happen? Did they come back when she returned to town?" Her voice is shrill, a little too loud, and Emma winces.
I kissed her. She kissed me back.
"I don't know. I guess so." Emma's eyes dart away from her mother's penetrating gaze to skim over the top of Henry's head. She glances around the kitchen, her eyes landing on various objects at random. A vase of flowers. The coffee mugs from earlier, still unwashed, stacked on the counter. The hole in the wall above the stove where a single brick is missing.
She kissed me back.
With a start, her eyes snap back to the people in front of her. Mary Margaret is watching her with narrowed eyes. She meets her mother's gaze, holding steady. She watches a flash of emotions flit across her mother's face - exasperation, worry, affection, confusion. After a moment Mary Margaret blinks and looks away.
"That's strange," David muses out loud. "Sneezy still hasn't regained his memory, and he's been back on this side of the line for months."
"Maybe it's different because Regina cast the curse?" Mary Margaret suggests. As always, there is a slight hitch in her voice when she speaks the woman's name, a twist of love and sorrow. Emma ignores it.
"It doesn't really matter though," her mother continues. "The point is that Regina's back. She and Cora together will be... unstoppable."
Mary Margaret shudders visibly, lost in thought for long moments. Then she shakes herself and looks over at her husband. "What now?"
"Now we wait," David says quietly. "We need to understand what they're up to, but we won't figure that out until they're ready to let us know. If there's one thing I know about Regina and Cora, it's that they always like making a show."
Mary Margaret nods.
"So," David points his finger at Emma. "Have a piece of toast or something, and then it's off to bed with you young lady. You look dead on your feet."
Emma smiles halfheartedly at his attempt at lightheartedness. She nods, moves into the kitchen, stares blankly at the refrigerator.
"I'll make it for you Emma!" Henry exclaims. Emma blinks at him in weary appreciation. He bustles past her, opens the fridge and draws out a loaf of bread and the strawberry jam, which they both love. Emma allows herself to slump into a chair while she waits for her toast.
I kissed her.
xxx
"Emma."
The voice echoes in her dream. She's running, but she's not sure where she's running to. Then she sees a figure in the distance. It's Regina, dressed in a plain outfit and her waitressing apron, hair braided back. She has a simple, welcoming look on her face.
Emma tries to run towards her, but as hard as she runs, the figure keeps receding further and further into the distance. Suddenly there is a look of fear on those perfect features. Dark eyes pleading, looking desperately into hers. Help me! the dream Regina cries as the ground opens up beneath her feet.
Emma runs harder.
And then abruptly she is in front of the other woman. She reaches out to draw the falling figure to safety, only to find that they're both standing on firm ground. And then Regina is dressed as the mayor. Black blazer, black pants, deathly white shirt. There is a sneer on her lips, purple fire in her eyes.
True love, the woman scoffs. You thought this was true love?
She throws her head back and laughs, a maniacal, demonic sound. And then Emma is falling. The ground beneath her feet has disappeared and she is falling down into an abyss. Purple eyes watch her as she falls, lit up with a triumphant fire.
Emma screams.
"Emma. Emma wake up, it's happening."
Emma startles abruptly awake. She sits up, gasps in a deep lungful of air. Mary Margaret runs a soothing hand down her arm, pats her thigh.
She gives Emma a few more moments to wake up, and then she says, "Out there. Look." She points to the window above the bed. Emma turns her head to peer out the window. Through the thin, gauzy curtains she can see a strange purple glow, reminiscent of the glow in her dream.
"What the hell...?" she stutters out. She twists around and pushes back the curtains. It looks to be late afternoon, the pale sky blanketed by heavy grey clouds. Off to the right, towards the center of town, an angry purple hue is lighting up the sky.
The purple clouds are spinning, swirling lazily in the sky in a clockwise motion, driven by a point of power below. The clock tower.
"Shit."
Mary Margaret winces at the swear word but says nothing, just pushes off the bed and straightens up. "Downstairs, one minute," she orders, and then strides from the room.
Emma yanks on a pair of pants, swearing again as she stumbles a little, tugs a sweater over her head, and flies out of the bedroom. She leaps off the ladder halfway down, a move they're always chastising Henry for, and joins her family who look as if they are preparing for war.
David holds his sword, testing the balance, while Mary Margaret is arming herself with an alarming assortment of knives. She slings a quiver of arrows over her back, loops her arm through the bow, and then bends to pick up a gleaming short sword.
Emma stuffs her feet into a pair of boots and pulls on her winter jacket. She wishes that she had her gun, but it's locked up at the sheriff station. And it's not likely to do much good with what they're going up against anyways. Still she feels naked and unprotected, and her mother must sense this because she hands over the short sword without a comment. Emma nods in thanks.
Henry is pleading with his grandparents. "Please let me come? I'll stay out of the way. I won't get hurt. I promise. Please?"
David stands firm in front of his grandson. "No Henry. We need you to stay here."
"Mom won't hurt me, I know she won't!" Henry exclaims. David meets Mary Margaret's eyes over their grandson's head and it's clear they're not as confident as he is.
David points a finger at the boy. "Henry, stay here. That's final." Then he nods to his wife and daughter. "Let's go."
Henry turns to his blonde mother, not yet willing to give up. "But, Emma! She won't hurt me. You know she won't! I need to be there with you!" His voice is borderline hysterical. Emma agrees with him on one point actually, Regina would never hurt him, but Cora and Hook are a whole other matter.
"No Henry, not this time. Come on kid, I need your help," she pleads. " We'll be right back. Everything will be fine." Emma zips up her jacket, takes a tight grip on the sword and motions her parents to precede her out the apartment door.
Henry throws himself onto the small couch with a noise of pure frustration. The scowl on his face makes Emma think of Regina and she softens. "I'll come get you as soon as things have settled. I promise."
Henry ignores her, just stares angrily across the apartment. A pointed look from Mary Margaret gets her feet moving again. She shuts the door firmly behind her and David reaches around her with a key to lock it.
"There," he says. "He'll be safe. Let's go."
xxx
Out on the street the wind is howling, scooping up snow, small chunks of ice, and a few lingering fall leaves, and whipping them high into the air. The threesome duck their heads and push forward into the wind, towards vortex of the storm.
The clouds are spinning somewhat faster now, lit up with purple magic and bolts of lightning, increasingly dramatic against the darkening sky. In the center of town a crowd is gathering. Granny nods as they burst into the square, gestures at them with her crossbow. Moments later they are surrounded by a flurry of townsfolk, their voices of concern and fear raised over the storm.
Emma can feel all the hair on her body standing up, singing and prickling with the immense power swirling around them. She can taste it in her mouth, feel it vibrating her teeth. It's uncomfortable, irritating. Her body thrums and she can feel Regina, out there, somewhere near the center of the storm.
She's wondering how to get to her when a bolt of lightning strikes the top of the top of the clock tower, followed by an illuminating beam of purple energy. The townsfolk look up to the clock tower and gasp as one.
The old archways in the top of the tower have been boarded up for years. No one goes up there. But now the boards have been removed. Standing directly below the gigantic clock face in the largest of the arches are two feminine figures. Their cloaks billow in the wind as they look down, cold and unfeeling, on the people below.
Lounging in one of the high windows to their right is the pirate. His leg is propped up on the windowsill, an elbow resting on his knee. He works a toothpick in his teeth with his restored left hand. His eyes scan the crowd with seeming indifference, but Emma knows better. She knows who he's looking for, but Mr. Gold is nowhere to be seen.
The shorter, older of the two figures steps forward, raises her hands. Her voice rings clearly, majestically over the storm.
"Citizens of Storybrooke," she says. There is something condescending about Cora's voice, although she is clearly enjoying playing the part her daughter entertained for many years.
"We are going home," she announces with pleasure. "As our gift to you, you may remain, unharmed, in this new and... fascinating... land."
"How?" Mary Margaret calls out, stepping forward. "How will you get back?" she asks. "Don't you need something to guide your way?"
Cora looks down sharply, then her face twists with false affection. "Darling Snow White," she addresses her. "I have no need for any trinkets this time. I have traveled once between our lands, and now that I know the way I can do so again. As often as I wish."
Her eyes glint in warning and Mary Margaret glances back at David with something akin to panic on her face.
"Captain Hook," Cora turns to address the man leaning in the window. Her words come more quietly now, although they can still be heard clearly over the sound of the storm. He glances up at her with an unconcerned gaze.
"Are you sure you don't wish to accompany us?"
"No my lady, for my work here is not yet done." He bows with a flourish, draws back slightly out of the window. "But I trust you will remember our bargain and return for me?"
"Of course." Cora smiles at him.
His eyes narrow, assessing, and then he nods once, curtly, and Cora turns back to the crowd.
The air is heavy in Emma's lungs, cold and sharp. Metallic. It hurts to breath. There is a pressure building at the back of her skull. When Cora speaks again Emma grits her teeth in pain as the voice reverberates between her ears.
"As a parting gift, there is one thing we wish to take with us from this land."
"You've taken enough!" David calls out. The crowd murmurs in agreement.
The corner of Cora's lip twists up. "Perhaps," she replies. "But there is just one more small thing that we shall take, a souvenir for my dear daughter."
She reaches out her hand and a beam of purple energy snakes out, reaching into the crowd.
The townsfolk cry out, throw themselves out of the way. A moment later Emma cries out too as the end of the purple beam reaches its destination.
Henry.
He must have snuck out of the house. Followed them down to the town square. And now her worst nightmare is coming true - Henry is in Cora's hands, soon to be on his way to another land.
"No!" she cries out. The sword falls with a clatter from her nerveless fingers as she sprints the forty or so feet to where her son is enveloped in the purple beam. She launches at his body, wraps herself around him just in time to feel her molecules get pulled apart.
It hurts. She would scream if she could, but then she's being reconstructed and she is collapsing, landing in a heap of tangled limbs, hers and Henry's, inside the clock tower.
Above them the giant mechanism of the clock grinds away, ticking off one second at a time. She lies still for a moment, gasping, grounding herself, and then she's reaching out to Henry, checking to see if he's okay.
She barely has time to reach out a hand before a strong force picks her up and pins her against the far wall. Cora is regarding her with a condescending sort of amusement. A quirk of her sculpted eyebrow, and then Emma is mentally dismissed, an insignificant insect to be squashed beneath the heel of Cora's shoe.
Cora glances at Hook, still lounging in one of the windows. "Watch her," she commands absently.
He nods, comes to stand in front of Emma. His eyes continue to dart out the window, looking for his crocodile, but it's not like Emma could go anywhere. She is pinned, completely frozen, to the hard wooden wall. She can't move her mouth, can barely breathe. All she can do is watch.
And so she watches as Regina's eyes fall on Henry and a crack of emotion splits her previously stoic face. She watches those dark eyes grow vulnerable and moist, watches as Regina reaches out to her son. "Henry," she gasps.
"Mom, no – don't hurt her! Don't do this! Let Emma go!" Henry demands. He pushes her hand away, angry, no longer so eager to be reunited.
Regina's face hardens again. She strides forward and twists him around to her side, grasping his shoulder in a strong hand. It must hurt, Emma can see his wince, but he keeps quiet.
Cora's eyes are roaming up and down the boy's body, clearly finding him lacking. "Are you sure, darling?" she asks her daughter. "We could find you another boy. One who is less... provincial."
"You asked my price, mother. This is it. Give me Henry, and I will give you my loyalty." Regina's voice is flat, unwavering.
"Very well, dearest. Let's be off then, this show is getting old."
Cora steps back into the archway. She raises both hands and the vortex outside, which had been lazily swirling above, begins to spin faster and faster. She laughs, a delighted, wicked sound. And then the air is tearing, splitting apart.
Emma can feel how wrong this is, can feel the molecules screaming. The wrongness is in her inner ear, in the marrow of her bones, at the back of her eyes. A portal is wrenched open, purple and gaping, a giant wound hovering in the air before them.
Cora smiles. "After you, darling."
Regina's eyes dart to Emma's for a split second. Dark and unreadable. And then she is moving.
She thrusts Henry away from her, back to towards Emma. Her strong hand wraps around Hook's forearm. The pirate, distracted by the gaping wound in the air before them, is taken completely off guard. A moment later he is sailing, propelled by an unseen force, into the open portal. He disappears, the shock on his face lingering in Emma's mind.
"Regina, what are you doing?!" Cora's voice is harsh, screeching. She strides forward, thunder in her eyes. Emma feels the bonds holding her to the wall suddenly go slack and she crumbles painfully to the floor.
Henry is there, helping her up, and they watch with undisguised awe as Regina strides forward to meet her mother. "I'm not going back with you, mother," she says simply. She raises her arms and thrusts, and a shock wave of energy lashes forward in an attempt to send Cora spinning into the portal.
Cora raises her own hands, easily deflecting the push. A cold smile spreads across her face. "Not this time, darling daughter. You caught me with that little trick once, you won't do it again. We're leaving the boy here, but you are coming with me."
Regina braces herself. The air crackles as tries to stand her ground, but Emma can see that she is losing. Cora's energy is drawing her forward, slowly and inexorably, a relentless force. The air between them bends and crackles. Regina's front teeth bite into her lower lip, drawing a drop of blood. Her face is twisted in pain and effort. And she is losing.
Cora's face is lit up, the bones of her skull showing white and hard through her skin. Her eyes glow the same purple as the cloud around them, the same color as the giant, hungry rift in the sky. Her fingers, twisted and claw-like, reach out to claim her daughter.
Regina is losing.
As if of their own accord, Emma's feet draw her forward. She comes up behind Regina, fighting the energy, the pounding in her veins and the howling in her skull that compels her to move away, as far away as possible. Instead she inches forward, directly into the fray.
She reaches out, drops a hand on Regina's shoulder.
For a moment nothing happens. Emma can feel delicate bones through the fabric under her fingers and she squeezes as hard as she dares. Then suddenly the now-familiar spark surges between them. Regina is glowing, a pink hue enveloping her body, and with a start Emma realizes that the same glow surrounds her as well. She can feel their combined power, can feel Regina gather it, hold it close for a moment, and then as one they thrust.
Cora flies backwards, a look of utter hatred and betrayal on her face.
Regina reaches out and twists, and something happens to the gaping hole in the sky. It changes, first glowing blood red, and now a sickly green. Its energy is even more menacing than before. For several moments the wound throbs brightly in the night sky, angry and painful, and then it is shrinking. Vanishing, taking Hook and Cora with it.