II
Chapter Twenty
II
FTL, the past
II
There are many reactions to finding a pirate in your bedroom. Regina goes for the obvious one – toss him with magic onto the bed and tie him up with the sheets.
"Ah," the pirate says. "The lovely former Evil Queen herself."
"And you are?" she asks in a silken voice.
"Killian Jones. Hook at your service. I would bow as manners dictate, but alas I appear to be swept off my feet."
She notes the hook on his hand, reaching out to touch it. "An unusual choice of accessory."
"One I owe to the Dark One," Hook says, and now his voice is dark and sincere for the first time. "I heard you had an association with him."
"Former," she says simply. "What can I do for you, Hook?"
"Tell me how to kill him," Hook says intensely. She waves a hand, the sheets releasing him. He flashes her something close to a smirk as he sits down on the bed, but she simply watches him.
"That may be harder than you think."
"I have time."
"Do you have 28 years?" she asks him and he cocks an eyebrow.
"For him, I have an eternity."
II
Hook dressed in Storybrooke clothes rather pirate clothes is a bit of a change, Regina has to admit. Even if it's still leather.
"Hello, Regina," he says. "Feels like it's been forever."
"Feels like it's been 28 years," she counters. He smiles.
"Time just flies by when cursed, I gather. You haven't aged a day."
"Neither have you."
"It's like magic," he says cheekily. Then he drops the act, his face becoming dark. "The crocodile. This world holds no magic. Can he be killed here?"
"He may have brought some magic here to protect him," she says, thinking of a stuffed animal that should be in Emma Swan's possession and the potion she put within it. If she got something through to this world, Rumpelstiltskin could certainly have managed to as well.
Hook considers it. "I will find out. This... Emma Swan, the savior. What do you know of her?"
Regina tilts her head. "What do you care about her?"
"He intends her to break the curse."
"Yes," she agrees. "Her death will also break the curse."
"That crocodile, thinking of everything," Hook remarks, giving her a savage smile. "Or so he thought. He didn't think of me."
Nor me, Regina thinks.
II
Mr. Gold scans the headline of the Storybrooke Mirror by the newsstand with a completely passive face, knowing that everyone is watching him, waiting for a reaction. Of course, he has already seen that headline and read that story at home.
This reaction is far more rehearsed. He raises an eyebrow slightly, then smiles as if he invites the competition.
Regina, he thinks. What is she trying to do? Aggravate him? Distract him? Work with him? A combination of the three? Against his will, he finds himself smiling at all the possibilities. She's learned. She is not just the pawn he once set in motion, but becoming a queen in her own right.
He may still have to put her out of play if it comes to that.
Across the street, David exits Granny's diner with Mary Margaret in his arms. She leans her head against his shoulder as he walks, his shoulders set and a confident air about him. Not quite like David Nolan, that. A bit more assertive, in fact. A bit more like Charming.
That makes him smile also, though his smile falters as he sees Belle hurry past. She doesn't look at him, but he can still tell she's aware of him from the way her body tenses. He feels the familiar urge to follow her, to fall on his knees and beg her to forgive him and maybe even love him again. This is why he never went near her bar.
Instead he turns and walks briskly to his office, letting his mind wander. Emma's presence and decision to stay here is well and good, but there must be a way to bring her closer to her son and unknowing parents faster.
As he opens the door to his office, he can immediately tell there is something wrong. Getting closer to the desk, he can see the drawers pulled open.
A break-in. In his office. Who would even dare?
Unfortunately, he can think of at least one.
II
"Hats," Emma says, and Graham shoots her a look. "Yes, I know, stating the obvious."
The extremely obvious, Graham thinks. Jefferson's house is filled with hats, most stacked in closets but some also thrown around as if in frustration or anger. There is also a telescope pointed right in the direction of the Nolan residence, making it rather obvious how Jefferson knew where Emma was.
It still doesn't explain why Jefferson went after Emma pr was even watching her in the first place, of course.
"He kept calling me the savior," Emma says, an odd tone to her voice. "He mentioned the curse. Like Henry."
"What curse?"
"Oh, it's this story Henry told me. That this town has been cursed and that you're all fairytale characters who've forgotten who you really are."
Graham cocks an eyebrow. "We're all fairytale characters? Who am I?"
"The sheriff of Nottingham?" she suggests.
"That isn't a fairytale."
"So no one read a lot of fairytales to me as a child," she says casually, but a little forced casual to his ears. "Point is, how would Jefferson know that Henry called me the savior? How would they believe the exact same thing?"
"You can ask Henry," he suggests. "I'll talk to the hospital about getting someone from the psych department to look at Jefferson."
She nods, looking down at the hat she is still holding. "Mad and into hats. That's some diagnosis."
"Into red jackets and quick to judge," he counters, and she gives him a look. "Just saying, a first impression doesn't tell all."
Emma Swan gives him a thoughtful look and he thinks he'd rather like to get to know her whole story even if it isn't a fairytale.
II
"You sure this is a good idea?" Mary Margaret asks, as David carefully eases her down on the grass.
"It's an idea," he simply says. "We both dreamt of the forest. Maybe going to a forest will spark something. If it doesn't, we've still had a romantic picnic."
She smiles at that, watching him as he walks over to the car and retrieves several items. He puts down a blanket as well the food and drinks they brought from Granny's before coming over to pick her up again. She can hear birds around them as he settles them both down on the blanket, letting her rest halfway on top of him.
"I like it here," she says softly, drawing her fingers across his chest. In the distance, she can make out the old well. They took Henry there on his last birthday and let him make a wish and throw something in, telling him it was a wishing well. He never did tell them what he wished for.
"Yeah," David agrees. He hums a little, making her smile. The song is unfamiliar, but he often hummed when dancing with her on Saturday night dates. It's almost as if the words are lost to him but the melody is not.
"I like Emma," she tells him suddenly. She lifts her head to look at him and he draws his fingers through her hair.
"You do?" he asks softly, tenderly.
"Yeah," she says, swallowing a little. "At first I tried to like her for Henry, but... It's not just Henry."
"Know what you mean," he says, a distant look in his eyes. "Sometimes I feel as if I know her."
"Might be because you know Henry and she's his mother," she offers. He focuses on her again, and she knows what he's reading on her face.
"You're still Henry's mom," he says. "He loves you too. More than anything. As I do."
She kisses him impulsively, feeling his lips curve into a smile against hers. Of course he knows how desperate she is to be a good mother, he knows her better than anyone. As she knows him, knows all of him. He moans a little into the kiss as she deepens it and she knows that sound well too.
When she pulls back, he smiles at her and draws a finger across her lips. She kisses it before settling her head back on his chest. The forest is quiet, as if waiting; there are just a few birds now and then. She wonders, as she's always done, what the birds sing about.
"I think Henry is doing better since Emma came," she says thoughtfully after a while.
"Mmm," David agrees lazily. His chest falls and rises as he breathes and she remembers falling asleep to the lull of that so many times. Even in the giant bed in their castle, they always curled up in bed together and...
She draws a sharp breath, trying to hold on to the thought. Their castle. Their bed. Them curled together, always curled together. Snow and Charming. That's who they were.
That's who they are, she thinks and this time, there is no pain at all.