If Any Would Avenge
Chapter Fourteen:
A Few Centuries Ago, in Another Realm:
It was dark and cold, and the stones reeked of damp. A chill passed through him, gliding down his spine, the alcohol-bestowed warmth long since gone from his limbs. Replaced instead by numbness and a raging fever.
He shivered, a rat scurrying over his foot and then behind his leg. The sound its feet made crawling over the stone and old bones grated on his ears, and its stench added to the mustiness. His breathing quickened and he retched, only nothing came up; it'd been weeks since he ate anything, his only sustenance a bottle of wine.
He finished that off about five days ago, according to his estimate of time. It was difficult to tell. The darkness surrounding him gave no hint to how long it'd been since he first became trapped. Or rather, imprisoned, within the wall. He only knew he slept and woke over fourteen times since Montresor left, and his fever came and went twice.
Now it was back, worse than before and his skull felt ready to burst. Shuddering as another rat crawled by him, he pounded and clawed against the stone sealing him in. Fingernails broken and worn down to his fingertips, the skin of which was torn and caked with dry blood, he clawed at the wall, muttering.
"I will kill you...I will…." He hissed, barely able to open his eyes from fever, not that it would've made much difference in the dark. "This life or the next….or the next….I'll….argh!"
The rat, tired of running by him or perhaps just famished like himself, bit his heel. He swore and sputtered, ready to grab hold of the vermin and tear its head off. A prospect that sounded more and more delectable each time he considered it. Breath quickening and his stomach growling at the idea of food, he reached down as low as he could, trying to grab the rat before it could scurry off.
He growled when it bit deeper, unaware of the danger of his hand; it screeched and struggled as he snatched it up. Within seconds he placed it within his mouth and bit down on it, tearing into its back viciously and desperately. Its warm blood and guts spilling onto his tongue - he could barely describe how sublime yet grotesque it tasted and felt.
It was a rat, a plague riddled vermin, yet he savored it. Ate every bit of it, flesh and bone and organs. And after he finished he leaned his head against the wall and sighed, satiated. He closed his eyes and resumed muttering, repeating Montresor's name. And his vow.
"I'll kill you. I will kill you. Bleed you. This life or the next….or the next….Montresor….I'll..."
"Ahh...Uhm?" A gasp and the clattering of a lantern dropping onto stone interrupted, there was also the clip-clapping of feet hurrying away and tripping repeatedly towards the exit.
His eyes shot open and he pounded at the wall, shouting as loud as his scratchy voice could.
"Who...who's there?" A steady and gentle voice asked, too near to belong to the fleeing one. He was shocked by it, for it was a child's voice and held little fear. "What are you doing in our uncle's crypt? Are you a ghost?"
"I…."
"...-elle! What are you doing?! Come on! You know what uncle said!" Another voice called out, older than both the one who had fled and the one who spoke to him. It was obvious that its owner hadn't heard him behind the wall. "No playing down here. It's disrespectful."
"But sis…." The younger child whined, but followed her sister's order, walking away from the wall before the man in the wall could call out again. As the children's footsteps faded in the distance, he glowered and swore.
x
Storybrooke:
Tap, tap, tap.
Fortunato stood up swiftly upon hearing knocking coming from the front door. His crimson eyes nearly glowing, he slipped silently into another room just in time to avoid being seen by Henry opening the door cautiously.
"...hello? Is anyone…."
Fortunato listened as the 19-year-old's footfalls stopped abruptly, followed closely by a sharp gasp and then by loud footsteps rushing towards the stairs.
"Mr. French!" Henry exclaimed and rushed to Maurice lying on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. His eyes wide, he tentatively shook the florist's shoulder to try and awaken him, his stomach tightening. There was no sign that the older man was still breathing.
Fumbling in his pocket for his cell phone, Henry heard a weakened whimper above him, and sprung back to his feet. Realizing it came from upstairs, he immediately hurried up the staircase, his palms sweaty and heart racing. Midway up he heard the whimper again and knew who it was.
"Belle!" Henry blanched seeing the petite woman curled into a ball, bleeding from her abdomen. Nearly stumbling onto his knees as he hurried to Belle's side, he dialed Regina who had gone with Emma to search for Gold first at his shop and then at his cabin.
-"Henry, what…."-
"Get here now!" Henry nearly shouted, terrified that explaining would delay his mother getting there in time. His voice trembled as he hung up and focused on applying pressure to Belle's abdomen, a shiver rushed down his spine as her warm blood quickly drenched his hands. "Please hold on, grandma Belle, my moms are on their way. Please."
"...by….my ba...baby….my…." Belle mumbled, barely conscious. "Need...to save…."
"Ah...shhh. It'll be okay." Henry replied, confused by what the librarian was mumbling about but chalking it up to grief and delirium due to blood loss.
"Not quite." Fortunato hissed and tossed something onto the floor beside the 19-year-old. His red eyes leered at Henry, watching as the young man bristled and glanced at the object: The positive pregnancy test Fortunato had pilfered from Belle five nights ago. He gave a twisted, half smile at Henry's expression.
It took only seconds for the 19-year-old to put two-and-two together.
"No…." Henry muttered, horrified as he stared at the petite woman's bleeding abdomen. Fortunato approached a few steps, still leering down at the young man.
"You're Rumplestiltskin's grandson." Fortunato hissed, unsheathing his tanto. The gilded scarab mark on its blade gleamed the nearer he approached Henry. His crimson eyes lit up as he readied the tanto. "You're not a target, but your blood will be quite useful…."
"Don't you even THINK about hurting my son!" Growled Regina, appearing in a cloud of magic, along with Emma, behind Fortunato. Livid, she lifted Fortunato magically and started choking him, while Emma hurried towards Belle. Her eyes narrowed at the dagger in Fortunato's hand and the gilded scarab mark. "I'd gladly snap your neck and that of any of your cohorts."
"...Mom!" Henry piped up, concern in his voice at the thought of his mother Regina killing anyone in cold blood, even someone like Fortunato.
Fortunato simply laughed, unfazed, and completely unaffected by Regina's magical grip about his throat. "Snap my neck? Heh...I'd like to see you try, your majesty."
"What the…." Regina stared perplexed at the red-eyed assassin, her magical chokehold firm enough that any normal person would be struggling not to pass out.
"Not that it'd do much good." Fortunato continued, his crimson glare shifting back towards Belle. His lips twitched as Emma healed the brunette and a cold grin spread over his face when Emma noticed the pregnancy test lying on the floor.
"That's…." Emma mumbled and reached for it, only for a healed Belle to snatch it first. The brunette hugged it to her breast and curled back into a ball, ignoring everyone around her. Belle clung to it, her lips trembling and body heaving with quiet sobs. Emma felt numb as she listened to the librarian's quiet sobbing and pleas not to lose another child. "No…."
"Heh. You're too late." Fortunato simply sneered, his crimson eyes narrowed to slits. "The blood price is paid. In full." He laughed and snapped his fingers, vanishing in a cloud of ash and dust.
000
Night Of the Accident:
The figure in the hoodie approached, lips curled into a sneer. It seemed to be mouthing something, a taunt? A question? He couldn't be sure, only that his stomach twisted in horror and goosebumps spread over his skin when he caught a glimpse of the figure's face.
"It can't be…." Killian mumbled and gripped the steering wheel tightly, his heart beating quick like a machine gun. The figure stopped, its face illuminated by the headlights of Killian's car. Its familiar countenance deathly pale and gray tinged, its eyes lifeless; Killian stared horrified at it, not believing what he was seeing and unable to move. "...father?"
Seconds after muttering that word, another car with its headlights turned off rammed into his, crashing hard into the back passenger-side door. The impact caused him to slam his head against the driver-side window, knocking him out.
When he came to, there were voices arguing and a throbbing in his head. He swore incoherently and fumbled with the car door, managing to open it just as one of the voices - his father's - vanished. Killian stumbled out of the car, realizing after he attempted to stand that his foot was broken. He hissed in pain and fell. "...fuck."
"Ooh. That's gotta sting, captain." A man approached, holding the hoodie that Killian's father, or the thing that resembled the long dead man, had worn. His vision blurry, Killian was just able to make out the gilded amulet the other wore, alarm bells ringing in his head at the sight of it. The man leered at the injured pirate, his lips twisted in a cold smirk. "It's too bad…."
"...what?" Killian growled, attempting to lift himself up using the car as a brace. It failed, and he stumbled back to the asphalt, dizziness hitting him. "...what's too bad?"
"...you're not my target." The man sneered and glanced towards the backseat of the pirate's car.
Killian bristled, alarm filling his eyes. His brain felt immersed in a heavy mental fog, yet he realized exactly what the other meant. Gideon was the only person in his car. Snarling Killian lunged at the sneering man, to sink his hook into the bastard's heart. Or at least he tried. He stumbled, tripped up by his broken foot and dizziness, his vision blurry. Just as he struck the asphalt, he heard the other man approach, mumbling something.
Before he could make out what it was, Killian's vision blacked out completely, unconsciousness overtaking him.
X
"...idd…don't…" Killian mumbled, lying asleep on the bed in his cell. The marking on his neck and the headache accompanying it long since faded.
Across the room a man dressed in tawny trousers and a faded white shirt, stared at the pirate. A peculiar expression was on his face, one of worry and regret, yet there was a coldness in his eyes. The man clenched his teeth and fists, his longish hair falling into his face, blocking his eyes.
"Killian…." Brennan Jones muttered his son's name, his mouth contorting as he struggled to continue speaking. "I for…."
"I think not." A gray eyed man seethed, stepping into the room, the gilded amulet he wore about his neck glittering beneath the overhead lights. As did the two rubies inlaid on either side, both equidistant from the other. The rubies glowed bright crimson as the man gestured and Brennan knelt down, struggling not to the whole way.
Brennan scowled up at the other man, his death-pale skin illuminated by the ceiling lights. His eyes filled with loathing staring at the man's face and then the amulet; he did so wordlessly however, his tongue silenced by the same magic that forced him to his knees.
The other man glowered back, before shifting his gaze towards the unconscious Killian.
"It is really too bad. I would just love to crush your son's heart in front of you. 'Sins of the fathers' and all that." The man drawled, relishing in the anger and fear-laced glare Brennan gave in response. Seconds later, his gray eyes darkened and his brow furrowed. "...why the hell hasn't the Dark One done so already? I'd have thought…." He grumbled, frowning heavily. A few moments passed before he growled at Brennan. "Find Fortunato. Things haven't gone to plan."
"...yes…." Brennan Jones muttered before leaving, wanting to but unable to refuse.
A/N: End Chapter.
This story is straying a lot from my original planned out plot, but that's just how my muse works.
(I had to look up Killian's father's name online, so I hope I got it right.)