Snow opened her eyes slowly. Her eyelids felt like lead weights pressing down on her face. Her head lolled to the side and she snapped it up as if trying to keep herself awake. The muscles in her neck were stiff and she wondered how long she had been sleeping; she usually could not sleep if she was uncomfortable and she had not woken up this bothered in days. Snow blinked groggily. She turned her head, searching for the green light of her clock. Instead she saw darkness; only as she woke up more, she found her room strange. Since when had she hung up that pegboard? Why were there fishing poles in her room, she didn't fish? Snow turned her head to the left and saw a staircase, except this one was wooden and rickety, as if the boards would snap right in the middle with any weight. Her stairs were metal.
"I hear you put up quite the fight."
Snow jumped at the voice and felt a tug at her wrists. She looked down and realized that she was tied to a chair. Eyes widening like an owl's, Snow snapped her head all around the room and realized that she was not in her bedroom. The cold concrete of the floor suddenly seemed to seep through her shoes and freeze her feet. She was tied up in a basement.
"I mean, you really drove that pen in there. He'll probably bleed to death if I don't get him to a doctor. Hmmm."
Snow looked around for the voice's owner and finally found a man, half in shadow, leaning against a workbench. He smiled sweetly at her; it sent a chill down her spine. He stepped into the light given off by a dangling bulb in the middle of the room. Her first thought was that he was handsome; he had a sweet, angled face with a trimmed beard and lean body. Her second thought was that she was insane for thinking the first.
"How are we feeling? Not too dizzy?" he asked. He stood in front of her and circled his hips in a hoola hooping fashion. "Am I spinning?"
"Who are you?" she asked, licking her dry lips. She almost gagged from the horrible taste. There was a thin coating of something on her lips.
"See," he answered pointing to her, "if I tell you that, then I loose all the mystery I've created. I loose the fear factor."
She searched her unclear mind for why she was here in the first place. Snow only got pieces of her memory—eating breakfast, Granny with a knife. None of those seemed important though. There must have been a reason she was alone in a strange man's basement. And then she remembered her family. Emma and James had gone down in the elevator. She and Henry talked. And then…
"I'm not afraid of you," said Snow, feeling an anger boil inside of her. She remembered stabbing the man with the pen and she remembered kicking Henry down the elevator shaft. She prayed that the lift was not far below and that they were all alright.
"Oh yes, you are. You know why?" he came around and laughed, placing his hands on the back of her chair. Snow could feel him softly pacing behind her. "Because we're humans, it's what we do! We fear."
Out of the corner of her eye, Snow watched him pace with his arms waving madly in the air as if he were performing in a dramatic play reaching it's climax. She watched as the sleeves of his long sweater flopped in the air, covering his hands.
"We fear our memories, we fear our emotions, and we fear the unknown. And there are a lot of things you don't know, honey. You don't know where you are. You don't know why you're here. We've already established that you don't know who I am. Most importantly, you don't know what's happened to your precious family," he said with a fake pout in his voice.
Snow felt the blood in her cheeks draining, like water, back into her neck and constricting her heart. The man stepped forward and leaned into her, getting inches from her face and resting his weight on the arms of her chair.
"So yes, Snow White, you are afraid."
"What do you want from me?" she said, shying away from his hot breath.
He pushed himself upright and laughed, "You know, the funny thing is, I didn't even want you. I wanted the boy. That's what you get when you send imbeciles to do your work, right Snow White? Although I guess I can't completely fault them—with that awful haircut you may as well be him."
He rounded the chair and shouted in excitement, "The resemblance is uncanny from the back!"
Snow closed her eyes. The last time she had been tied to a chair she had been terrified, but that had been as Mary Margaret who was much weaker and smaller than Snow. Mary Margaret could not protect herself and had never been in a position to stand up for herself. Of course, she would have been going out of her mind with fear. Now tied to a chair, feeling the hot breath of her captor on her neck Snow was overcome with an anxiety she had rarely experienced. The panic clawed at her neck and she had to keep telling herself to calm down before she screamed. Unlike Mary Margaret, Snow was not afraid for herself, she could handle herself quite well, having plenty of practice with emergency situations in the Enchanted Forest. Snow White was terrified of what had happened to her family, because as her captor had already addressed, she had no idea what had become of them.
"No, no, no," she felt a light thumb dance across her cheek and lift her face up. "Don't fall asleep on me now and definitely don't do that catatonic thing. That's just so rude."
Snow opened her eyes and faced him. "What do you want with Henry?"
"Simple," he stated, giving her a look that said she should already know. "I want The Queen. The Queen wants the boy. So, simple deductive reasoning dictates that I would benefit greatly from having the boy."
"Why do you want Regina?"
He scoffed, "Oh, Snow White. Are you really so pure as your name? You know what she's done to us, to our lives. What kind of person would I be if I let such an unjust crime stand?"
"If you want to punish her, why involve my family at all? Why not just go after her?"
"Oh, I already tried that. Didn't work," he shrugged nonchalantly.
Snow frowned. It seemed Regina was truly eluding everyone lately. She must have been in hiding well, because no one had seen so much as a trace of her. Snow thought back to the way she'd run around the Mayor's mansion, desperately searching for her stepmother. She had breathed in fume after toxic fume only to discover that Regina was not there. Realization dawn on Snow quickly.
"Did you set the fire?" she asked slowly.
He turned and grinned. "Well, not me personally. Why, did you like my work?"
"You destroyed the house. For no reason."
"And she protects architecture as well," he said applauding her, the sound muffled by the cloth of his sleeves. "Is there anything you can't do, Princess?"
"I'm a Queen," she spat, her fury starting back up at being insulted.
"I'm sure you are," his condescension infuriated her further.
"You won't get him," she told him.
The man laughed and pointed to her. "Oh yes, I know. You're doing a great job stopping me from that chair."
Snow pursed her lips. "Emma. She won't let you anywhere near him."
He shrugged. "Well, I learn from my mistakes. Clearly three grown men cannot take on a princess and a little boy; I mean, what was I thinking? I made sure to adjust appropriately."
A door opened somewhere above them and a harsh bright light filtered into the room. Snow wondered how late it was in the day, the dank basement tricking her into believing it was night. A short chubby man descended the worn wooden staircase and huffed with nerves as he approached. He took his purple beanie from his head and wrung it between his fat fingers.
"Captain," he said, raising his right hand to salute.
"What," said the man before Snow with a roll of his eyes.
"They've returned, but… you won't be happy," the little man mumbled.
The Captain stood very still, mulling the words over in his mind. "I'm already not happy. What happened? Did they kill the boy?"
Snow felt a jolt ripple through her.
"No, no, Captain," answered the man shaking his head vigorously.
The captain sighed dramatically letting his arms slap his sides loudly. "Fine. Bring me my hand."
His servant jumped to attention and ran passed Snow to one of the benches. She watched him curiously out of the corner of her eye. He ran to a case, swiping his stubby finger over it. He lifted the lid slowly and reached in, with ease. When he raised his hands he held a hook as large as Snow's head, cradling it like a newborn. The man carried the hook to the captain, who pulled up his right sleeve to reveal a stump at the end of his wrist covered by a metal plate. Gingerly, the man handed the hook to his captain and retreated. Snow's captor grinned at her as he snapped it into place, a glint shining off it in the light from upstairs.
"Alright, bring me my prize," said the Captain.
With a nervous glance at Snow, the fat man turned and hurried up the stairs. The Captain came over to her chair and stuffed a thick cloth into her mouth. She gagged viciously, but he held his hand on her lips, keeping it in place.
"No noise," he cooed.
Snow heard a scuffle come from the top and then what sounded like a hundred pairs of heavily booted feet clomped down the stairs. They came in a cluster, holding something big in their arms. Snow craned her neck, but she could not get a good look at the object until, from halfway up the stairs, they pitched it from their arms and threw it down the steps. It landed with a harsh thud and a grunt and Snow's heart jumped into her mouth.
"Emma!" she screamed, but with the cloth in her mouth, it came out as nothing more than a moan.
The Captain spun around and poked her neck with the tip of his hook. "One more sound and I slice her beautiful neck."
Snow nodded, but Emma had not heard her anyway. After hitting the floor, Emma pushed herself up and with a feral growl she threw herself at one of the men, fists swinging. She could not land any punches though, as the others grabbed her by the elbows and yanked her back.
The Captain walked across the basement floor smoothly, grabbed Emma by the hair, and fit the curve of his hook around Emma's neck. All the muscles in Snow's body tightened.
"Calm down now," the man said as if mollifying a child.
Emma glared at him. "Where is my mother?" she spat. The Captain ignored her question and ran his fingers through her hair.
"Now, men," he said with a confused look on his face. "I can understand making the first mistake. I mean, you might not have noticed that the first person you grabbed had knockers and I understand that because, well, I was a little confused myself. But this one has even bigger knockers! AND FLAMING BLONDE HAIR!"
He snatched the hook from Emma's neck and sliced it through the air, hitting the man closest to him. The man yelp, and scurried away, a giant cut bleeding red down his face.
"How difficult is it to pick up a child?" he shouted, turning to each of his lackeys.
One of the men in the back raised a hand slowly, but kept his eyes down, as if his Captain had the look of Medusa. Snow tried to shift in her seat, hoping the movement would cause Emma's eyes to flicker in her direction, but she knew Emma would not be able to see her. She was completely hidden in a dark shadow.
"What?" the captain demanded.
"Captain," the man had a small squeaky voice, "she did something to him. She made the boy and the man disappear. She used magic."
"Magic?" asked the captain, drastically calmer than seconds ago. He turned to face Emma and sunk down until he was right above her face. "Did you use magic, my sweet?"
Snow thought back to the day before in the woods when Emma had summoned all of the butterflies.
Emma smirked. "Oh my god. You're Captain Hook," she laughed maliciously, "from Peter Pan."
The Captain's smile dropped and he snapped, "Do not mention that name to me."
Emma rolled her eyes. Frustrated, Captain Hook stood up and glared down at Emma. Snow hoped Emma would not say anything stupid; the hook on his wrist glinted dangerously.
"What did you do to the boy?" Captain Hook asked.
"Go to hell," Emma snarled, still restrained by three men.
"We're already here!" said Hook throwing out his arms as if to show Emma what hell was. "And I'm trying to get out of it, but I can't do that unless I have the boy."
Emma glared her green eyes intently on Hook, but she said nothing. It made Snow's heart warm the way her daughter stood up for herself. It might get her hurt, but it was incredibly brave.
The Captain touched his metal hand to Emma's chin, forcing her face up and bringing his own closer. "I don't want anyone to get hurt," he said warmly, "but I need you to tell me what you did to the boy."
For an answer, Emma spit in his face. Snow recoiled; Emma was brave, and incredibly stupid sometimes, though Snow could not say that she would not have done the same. Furious, Hook stood up and ordered his men to tie Emma to a chair in the corner, which they did, tossing her unceremoniously onto the stiff seat and tying her hands behind her back with two belts and a couple on her legs. They dragged the chair over to the center of the room until she faced Snow. Then Hook turned on a light, which made Snow flinch away, the brightness burning her eyes.
"Snow!" Emma yelled, struggling against her bonds.
Captain Hook strode over to Snow and placed his human hand on her head, stroking her short hair gently.
"I'm bored, Emma," he sneered at her daughter, "and I'm done playing games. Where's the boy?"
"If you hurt her—"
"Why would I hurt her?" he said, moving his hand down to Snow's shoulder. "Snow White and I, we're best friends, aren't we? Just tell me what you did to him and everyone can go home."
Unable to speak, Snow shook her head at Emma, but Hook grabbed her hair and yanked it back, sending a pain shooting through Snow's neck.
"No, no, Mommy," he said in her ear. "Emma's a big girl now. She needs to make her own decisions."
Snow glanced at Emma and saw the hate pouring through her body. Emma was visibly shaking and looking like she was seconds away from attacking Hook.
"What do we say, Savior?" Hook jeered.
"I'm going to kill you," Emma said evenly. It was so malicious and strangely honest that Snow felt her body grow cold. She'd seen hate in Emma's eyes before—hell, Emma had even thrown hate Snow's way—but it was never like this. Emma's eyes seemed to grow darker and she stared him down with daggers in her eyes.
"The power of persuasion then," decided Hook. He took his curved, metal hand and placed it around Snow's neck, the tip biting into her skin. "let's see how white she can really get."
Snow let out a small cry as the sharp tip dug into her skin and started cutting a smooth, deep line at the base of her neck.
"STOP!" Emma commanded.
With a yelp, Hook was thrown from Snow and across the room where his back collided with the corner of a workbench. Loud clinking sounds filled the air as the belts around Emma's wrists uncoiled themselves and flew up, hovering over her head. Snow felt the pressure in her wrists and ankles release as the belts holding her unraveled and joined the others above her. Hook's men jumped to attention rushing at Emma collectively. They gasped audibly when the belts hurtled through the air and wrapped themselves around the necks of each man, choking them. Emma rose from her chair slowly with one arm outstretched. She scowled at Hook and kept her eyes on him, closing her hand as if she were squeezing an apple. The two belts around Hook's throat constricted and he choked, fighting for air.
Snow pulled the cloth from her mouth and yelled, "Emma, stop!"
Emma didn't hear her and closed her hand tighter. Hook let out one sob and then slumped against the floor, his hook clawing at the belts. All the men in the room dropped to their backs, the belts like snakes around their throats.
Snow ran over to Emma and shook her, demanding for her to stop. It wasn't her daughter, it wasn't her Emma who stared down at a now perfectly limp Hook and squeezed harder.
"Stop!" Snow screamed, jumping on Emma's arm and forcing it down.
Emma turned her glare on her and raised her hand. Snow retreated afraid Emma might hurt her, but the darkness fell from her eyes and Emma stumbled back. Snow let out a sigh of relief as Emma whirled around looking at all of the slack men around the floor. She whimpered a little and brought her hands up to her face, staring at them in disbelief.
"We have to go," Snow told her and grabbed her arms forcing Emma to the stairs.
There were no men upstairs and they bolted from the house with ease. Outside, the sun had finally started its descent giving the night a light blue haze. The scent of salt and fish struck Snow's nose and she realized they were by the docks. They came out of a small wooden house, clearly run down, just feet away from the docked boats. Taking Emma's hand, Snow ran down the street until she found an entrance to a path. They needed to stay out of sight, she decided, in case more of Hook's men came for them. When they entered the trees, Emma snatched her hand away.
"Emma."
"Get away from me," Emma cried. Her daughter backed away and cowered. Emma never cowered.
"What's wrong?" said Snow stepping closer, roaming her eyes over Emma.
"No," Emma yelled to her. "I don't know what I'm doing. I can't control it. I might hurt you."
Snow shook her head. "I know you would never hurt me."
"I said stay away!"
"Emma," Snow reached for her.
"Stop it!" Emma wailed.
Snow felt like she was hit by a wrecking ball. Her whole body was lifting into the air and thrown feet away. She slammed against a tree and slumped to the soft packed dirt of the forest floor.
Blinking away the pain, Snow looked up and through watery eyes, saw her daughter running away.
