Chapter Thirty-Six—"A Nightmare Come to Life"
The phone rang, startling Mary Margaret out of the daze she had been sitting in all afternoon. Somehow she had made it back to the loft—she still wasn't sure how; she barely remembered leaving the school—and now she was sitting alone on the couch, staring blankly at the coffee table, with boxes of her classroom supplies strewn around at her feet. One had been knocked over, somehow, but she hadn't noticed. Maybe she'd dropped it? But the insistent ringing of the phone finally tore her out of the depression she had been spiraling deeper and deeper into. Although she wanted so desperately to ignore the phone and just block out the entire world, a part of Mary Margaret did not want to be that weak. Part of her demanded she fight back. She had done her crying. Now she had to move on.
So, she answered the phone with only a slight quiver in her voice. "Hello?"
"Is this Ms. Blanchard?" a smooth female voice asked.
"Yes," Mary Margaret answered warily. Something in that tone set her teeth on edge. She wasn't certain if she'd ever heard the other woman's voice before, but there was something frightening underneath the cultured veneer.
"This is Melaina Merryweather. I am calling about the debt you owe me."
"My father's debt," she answered quickly. "Not mine."
"Your name is on the contract, Ms. Blanchard," was the cold response. "That makes it your debt, and I require on time payment. Will you be able to meet your obligation?"
"I…" Mary Margaret cringed, and swallowed back the urge to cry again. When she said no more, Merryweather pressed:
"I understand that you were fired today, and that you lack the resources to pay any of your debts without employment."
"Yes. That is correct." She took a deep breath, and continued as calmly as she could. "I am going to need some time. I'm sorry. But if we could renegotiate the terms, I can find a way to—"
"No."
The frigid response made her jump. "Excuse me?"
"I said no. I have an alternative proposal for you, one you will accept. I will provide you with employment, and with housing, since I am certain that you will not be able to pay your rent, either, given your current circumstances," the other woman replied, her voice taking on an almost bored quality. "In return, you will remain on my premises until your debt is paid off. I will have a contract delivered to you tomorrow, and I expect you to be here the following morning, with your belongings. No furnishings will be required. Your current furniture will be sold at auction to cover the down payment on your debt."
For a moment, Mary Margaret was so shocked that she could not speak. "Wait a minute!" she finally managed, the words coming from somewhere deep within her. "I'm not sure that's legal."
"Neither is defaulting on a contract, Ms. Blanchard."
"But—I have until the fifteenth to pay, don't I?" she pressed.
"You do, but I do not advise you to delay. Doing so will not make me more charitable," Merryweather replied, and now Mary Margaret was not imagining a threatening undertone in her voice.
"You'll have your answer on the fifteenth," Mary Margaret said firmly, sucking in a deep breath. Was she crazy? Madam Merryweather wasn't as terrifying as Mr. Gold, but she had a fearsome reputation all the same, and Mary Margaret would have to be to be a fool to not take the offer that Merryweather was making.
"Very well. I look forward to hearing from you," Merryweather replied, and Mary Margaret grimaced as she hung up the phone without so much as saying goodbye.
She wants me to become a whore, Mary Margaret knew. Or what amounts to one, anyway, even if she doesn't technically call me that. She felt cold, cold and angry. Her heartbreak seemed like a thing of the past, now; fury had taken its place. Merryweather wanted to use this debt that Mary Margaret didn't even remember incurring to force her to become something she was not. Yes, she was having an affair with a married man, and no, that was hardly the most morally upright thing that she could do. But that wasn't the same as becoming one of the poor, trapped girls that worked for Very Merry Escorts. Rumors said that the company employed more than just escorts, too, that there was something dark and sinister going on beneath the posh upstairs establishment, but Mary Margaret knew nothing of that. And she didn't want to find out.
She just knew that she was her own person, and she sure as hell wasn't going to let anyone force her into becoming something she was not.
{**********}
"I don't appreciate the way you are running things, Sheriff," Cora said by way of greeting, having crossed the street to step right into Emma's path.
"And I don't appreciate the way you bully people because it makes you feel powerful," Emma shot back, meeting the mayor glare for glare. She shrugged showily. "I guess that means we're even."
What she really wanted to do was punch Cora right in the face, but Emma knew that the mayor would just bring her up on assault charges if she dared. Cora wasn't the brawler type, and Emma doubted that this mayor would even get into a decent catfight if provoked. No, she was the type to send someone else to do her dirty work for her, and Emma had seen enough of that dirty work lately. She couldn't prove it, of course, but for once she agreed with Henry. Cora had to be behind the trio of horrible things that had happened to Mary Margaret in the past week. Everyone knew that Francis Scadlock was Cora's creature, and he'd sprung two of those surprises in his heinous article. The third appeared to be completely separate, and there was no way to tie Cora to that mysteriously-appearing debt, but Emma's instincts told her that this bitch was behind it.
Now, however, Cora was just smiling. Always a bad sign.
"Unfortunately for you, Miss Swan, I have the means with which to rectify—or at least mollify—our philosophical differences," the mayor replied smugly, and Emma rolled her eyes.
"You can't fire me," she retorted. "Your precious city charter—you know, the one you got changed so that I couldn't fire the drunk you saddled me with—says that much. Unless you can prove me guilty of a crime, you have to wait four years to get rid of me.
They'd kill each other within four years, Emma was certain, so she figured she was safe for now.
"Oh, of course not. Why would I ever want to fire an upstanding and elected official like yourself?" Cora said, her smug smirk still in place.
"Then what the hell are you getting at?"
"I simply wanted to inform you that Deputy Sheriff Rathbone has been declared fit for duty again by Doctor Whale," was the easy response, and Emma blinked. The name was vaguely familiar, but she couldn't remember why for the life of her.
"Who?" she asked.
"Gary Rathbone. Your second deputy sheriff. I seem to recall you complaining that you and Deputy Law are stretched too thin, and I thought I would deliver the good news in person."
"Something tells me that it's not good news if you're delivering it," Emma said before she could stop herself.
"Oh, I'm hurt," Cora said, mock pouting.
"I bet you are," she shot back. "Is that all?"
Cora just continued to smile. "For now."
{**********}
The kid was smart. August had to give him that. He'd been pouring over that book in the back of the diner like it was his job, watching way more carefully than most ten year old kids did for who might be watching him. Finally, after catching a glimpse of the book—and having been forewarned for what it might just be—August made his way over.
"Henry, isn't it?" he asked in as friendly of a manner as he could.
"Yeah," the kid answered warily.
"I'm August. Mind if I join you?"
Henry gave him a suspicious look. "What for?"
August made a great show of looking around and making sure no one was watching. "I wanted to talk to you about the curse," he said quietly, and watched the boy's eyes light up. Gotcha, he thought with an inner grin that he was careful not to let the boy see. After all, it wouldn't do to scare him away. August needed his help if he was going to make Emma believe, because his short time in Storybrooke had certainly taught August that the sheriff was going to be a tough nut to crack.
"You bet!" Henry said, and August took the seat across from him. The boy looked at him with sharp brown eyes—and just who did those eyes remind him of? It was someone, but he couldn't pin the memory down—and asked: "How do you know about the curse? Do you believe?"
August grinned despite the seriousness of the situation. He hadn't expected this town to be quite so miserable, to be honest; as bad as his Papa had always told him the Evil Queen was, August had never imagined she'd be quite this evil. People in Storybrooke didn't warm up quickly to strangers, but he'd already picked up stories of an insane asylum tucked away under the hospital, a library fire set by someone without any arrests happening, and an election that the mayor didn't quite manage to rig. This place was downright creepy, miserable and dark, and August wanted to leave as quickly as he could. Once I can stop turning to wood, anyway, and that means I have to help Emma break the curse, he thought determinedly. Then he could leave. Which, of course, brought his attention back to young Henry Nolan.
"I know because I know," he answered, "and yes, I believe."
"Really?" the kid peered at him curiously. "Did my grandmother put you up to this?"
August couldn't help his grimace; he remembered what the Evil Queen had put Princess Snow and Prince James through; he'd been just old enough to understand when his father had built the enchanted wardrobe. "Believe me, I wouldn't work with the Evil Queen on anything. I promise."
That seemed to be the right answer, although Henry still had more questions. "So, then how do you know it's real? You just got here."
"Because I know a detail that isn't in your book," August replied, injecting just enough mystery into his voice to get the ten year old hooked. After all, no matter how bright of a kid Henry Nolan was, he was ten, and that meant August should be able to run circles around him.
"Like what?" the boy asked eagerly.
"Like how two people went through the wardrobe," he said with a sly smile; August had considered stealing the book, and he still intended to, but there was no reason he couldn't whet the boy's appetite in the meantime.
"Now I know you're lying," Henry told him, suddenly serious. "Emma's the only one that went through."
"And how do you know that?"
"Because it's in my book." Henry didn't quite call him stupid, but August knew enough about kids to know he was thinking it. He certainly would have been in the kid's place.
August leaned forward, speaking softly. "What if I told you that your book is incomplete? That there's more to the story than you know?"
"I'd think you were lying or making stuff up," the boy replied honestly, and August chuckled.
"How about I prove it to you?" he challenged.
"How're you going to do that?"
"I've got something in my room to show you," he grinned. "But you have to come up so I can show it to you. I'm not bringing it down here. It's too dangerous."
Henry perked up immediately, and slammed the book shut. A split second later, the kid was on his feet, shoving the giant book into his bag and grinning. "Sure! Let's go."
"Shouldn't you tell your parents first?" After all, he didn't want to be accused of kidnapping.
"Dad's gone to see Mary Margaret to see if he can help her, and Mom's at work. I was hanging out with Emma, but she had to go run and do some sheriff-y stuff."
"Why were you hanging out with the sheriff?" August asked curiously. Henry had obviously figured things out, but where did he fit into this? His friendship with Emma could be useful. Maybe Henry's the reason that she is starting to believe. That's a lot better than her believing his adopted mother, the Dark Princess. Or his grandmother, the Evil Queen herself, he thought. I knew this kid would be a good ally.
"'Cause she's my mom."
A moment passed before August could even process that. "She's your what?"
"Y'know. My birth mom. Regina and David adopted me, but Emma did the dirty work," Henry replied easily. "You're an adult. You're supposed to know how that works."
All August could do was gape. Somehow, it had never occurred to him that this brown-haired bundle of belief and energy might be Emma's son, but suddenly the former puppet knew exactly who the boy reminded him of. Henry was just the right age for Emma to have been pregnant when she went to jail, and that meant…
Oh, man. This is going to be such a mess.
He really needed to talk to the Blue Fairy about this one.
{**********}
2 Years, 10 Months Before the Curse
Three trolls guarded the entrance to the cave.
Well, technically they guarded a point about fifty feet inside the cave, a narrow bridge over a deep chasm that there was no hope of scaling. They still rounded on the prince when he stepped around a corner, two of trio in the midst of crawling on the walls of the cave, one going up towards the ceiling, and the other scurrying down the chasm itself. Those two paused, and all three growled menacingly. Stopping, David shifted his grip cautiously on the sword in his hand but did not attack. Although the Dark One had given him a sword that would surely kill any manner of magical creature—he didn't think Rumplestiltskin had lied about that—David didn't want to have to fight unless he had to. Trolls were greedy, weren't they? They wanted gold more than they wanted a fight, and if he could outsmart them, he could save his strength for later battles.
"Hello," he said cautiously, lowering his sword enough so that they could see that he didn't mean to attack. All he received in return was grunts and snarls, so he continued: "I would like to cross your bridge. Is there a price?"
He had gold, after all. Plenty of it. George always made sure of that. Normally, David though the king was just being paranoid—David had long ago learned to survive on a pittance—but right now, that could prove useful. Particularly if it meant getting the trolls out of his way and himself across the bridge. And one step closer to Snow.
"What'cha got?" the biggest of the trolls asked. This one was wide and gray-skinned, with long black hair that reminded David more of a horse's mane than human hair. He sauntered around like he owned the world, stepping towards the prince in a manner clearly meant to intimidate.
If David hadn't been so determined to rescue Snow, he might have had time to be frightened. As it was, he was too focused on his end goal.
"What do you want?" he countered levelly as the other two trolls tromped their way over to join their fellow, both glaring suspiciously at David.
"Who are you?" one of the others demanded.
"A friend of someone further in the cave," he said as vaguely as he could manage. Something told David that sharing too much about himself could bring disaster down upon him.
"There's no one in the cave," the third troll growled, lumbering towards the bridge with a scowl. "Unless you want her."
That had to be Snow. David's heart leapt before he could stop it, and his eagerness must have shown on his face, because all three trolls laughed. It was a low and unnerving noise, one that grated on his senses and made him feel like his face was being scraped over sharp rocks. Three sets of rotting teeth grinned in response to his reaction, and David knew he had to act fast.
"I just want to cross your bridge," he repeated. "And I can pay. Gold."
"Gold?" the first troll echoed, clearly interested.
"Yes. But not if you don't let me pass."
"We could eat you, and then take your gold," the third troll volunteered.
David forced himself to laugh. "I think you'll find I don't taste that good," he told them. "I'd be chewy, and so would this." With the last word, he brought his sword back up in to a guard, meeting the gaze of the first troll. "I don't want trouble, but if you aren't willing to accept payment, I'm going to fight my way across. Then you'll lose your lives and my gold."
He waited a heartbeat, waited for avarice to light up in the trolls' eyes, and then continued: "So, what'll it be? Fight or payment?"
{**********}
"You've got to eat something," Emma said to her roommate, leaning on the wall while Mary Margaret curled up in a ball on her bed.
"I'm not hungry," the former schoolteacher whispered.
"That's stress talking," Emma countered, moving over to flop on the bed next to her. "C'mon. We'll start looking for a new job for you in the morning. There's bound to be something, even if it's working at Granny's."
"Granny doesn't want to hire a suspected murderer," Mary Margaret replied dejectedly, and Emma resisted the urge to shake her. But then, given the kind of day the other woman had just had, Emma supposed she couldn't blame her. She'd been fired, kicked out of the only job she'd ever had, and then come home to a cold-blooded job 'offer' from someone who practically wanted to make her into a whore.
Emma just sat up and said: "Let her tell you that, okay? I'll talk to some people. Folks in this town aren't quite as bad as everyone seems to think. We'll find something."
"Emma…I know you're trying to help, but I don't want to drag you down with me. Maybe I should just take Madam Merryweather's offer…"
"Do you want to?" As sheriff, Emma had to be against whatever the hell that offer actually included if it was in any way illegal, but as a woman and a friend she needed to respect Mary Margaret's choices.
"No," her friend whispered.
"Then do you want to fight it? I'm not saying it'll be easy, but we'll find a way if that's what you want," she said firmly.
"I can't even pay the rent." Mary Margaret turned to look at Emma, tears streaming down her face, and Emma finally just reached out and hugged her.
"I can help with that. My paycheck can cover both of us until you get things straightened out," she said. Emma had never been the most emotionally demonstrative person in the world—her own messed up past had taught her not to care too easily, and not to get in too deeply—but this was different. Mary Margaret had stood by her when she struggled to find a place in Henry's life, and when she'd fought to become sheriff despite Cora's opposition. The least Emma could do was stand by her now.
"I can't ask you to do that."
"You didn't. I offered." She smiled. "That's what friends are for, right?"
Whatever Mary Margaret might have said was cut off by a knock at the door, and Emma felt her friend flinch. So, she pulled back after giving Mary Margaret one last squeeze, ready to pop the head off of the intruder. Heaven help the bastard at the door if they're here to talk about debts, deaths, or David, Emma thought in a mental snarl. And if it was that jackass Scadlock at the door, looking for an interview, Emma was pretty sure that she'd have to put being the sheriff aside for a bit in order to properly deal with the man. But she could do that. Mary Margaret deserved better, and Emma knew that she'd already ignored three calls from Scadlock and one from Sidney, although at least Sidney was likely to actually want Mary Margaret's side of the story.
Maybe that was an idea, Emma reflected as she unlocked the door. If Sidney was willing—
"Oh. Hi, David," she said awkwardly as she opened the door to find Regina's husband outside. Of course, it made sense that he'd want to come see if Mary Margaret was okay, but he was the last person Emma wanted to see right now. Or maybe the fourth from last. She would have liked a visit from Scadlock, Merryweather, or Cora even less.
I don't care if Regina's okay with this, or if Henry thinks they're 'True Love'. Being in the middle of two friends who are both involved with the same man is really uncomfortable, she thought, watching David shift uneasily under her glare.
"Hi," he said awkwardly. "Is Mary Margaret here?"
"She is, but she's not really receiving visitors at the moment," Emma replied. "It's been a hell of a day."
"I know. And I don't want to add to it, really. I just wanted to see if she was okay."
"Of course she isn't," she said bluntly, and then relented a bit when she saw guilt flash over the handsome face. "Look, that's not your fault, but if you come in here, people are only going to talk more, and she doesn't need that right now, okay?"
"I know. I just wanted to…I don't know what I wanted to do. I want to help," David stuttered earnestly. "I feel responsible, even if I didn't have anything to do with the debt. Maybe Ms. Cole wouldn't have fired her if everything else hadn't come out first, and I wanted to say I was sorry."
"I'll tell her," Emma promised, and she could see that wasn't the answer David wanted to hear.
"David?" Mary Margaret's voice suddenly asked, and Emma's heart plummeted. She didn't want to deny Mary Margaret comfort, she really didn't, but if the two of them were seen together now, the rumor mill would go wild. Still, the damage was already done—David's face was already lighting up like the proverbial Christmas Tree—and all she could do was try to mitigate it as much as she could.
"You'd better come in," the sheriff told Regina's husband, stepping out of his way. But she was pretty sure that David didn't even hear her; he just made a beeline for Mary Margaret, who jetted forward to meet him halfway.
It was almost like giant magnets drew them together; Emma knew that they both understood the risks, knew that they both would admit how wrong their relationship was and how much it could hurt what little good reputation Mary Margaret had left, but they obviously couldn't stop themselves. Emma's roommate was in David's arms before Emma could even draw a breath, and damn it all if they didn't fit together like pieces to a puzzle. They were oblivious, too. When Emma tried to clear her throat to get their attention, neither noticed, and she finally just sighed.
"I'll, uh, go upstairs," she said to the air, hurriedly closing the door. Neither replied; Mary Margaret was sheltering in David's arms while he held her tight. Emma had to give him credit for that, at least. He'd obviously come here to make sure Mary Margaret was okay, not for any other reason, and now he was being a shoulder that she could literally cry on. He was what she needed right now, the man she was in love with, and who was Emma to get in the way of that?
So, Emma shut her better judgment up and headed upstairs, pulling her phone out to text Sidney. Maybe Sidney knew something about Merryweather that they could use, or could write an article to put pressure on her. Trying to figure out how to get Gold on their side was still a bust, but maybe the only honest reporter in town could do the trick. She stayed upstairs until after David left, waiting for an answer from Sidney while she poked through some old town records that she'd brought home. Emma found a little bit on Merryweather, though she wasn't sure if any of it would be useable, but at least it was a start. Sidney, however, responded to her text within fifteen minutes.
I'll see what I can't dig up, he sent back. I heard of a girl disappearing recently. Might be related.
Who? Emma texted immediately. No one had sent any missing person cases her way.
Victoria Scadlock.
That made Emma's eyebrows knit together, but Sidney was right. Emma had released Victoria from jail almost two weeks ago, and she hadn't seen her since. There had been no public rows with her jerk of a husband, no further attacks, and when Emma had asked the district attorney about pressing charges, Spencer had just grimaced and said that he didn't think there would be any further problems.
Archie said she missed two appointments, Sidney added after a moment. Heard Scadlock talking about how he sent her to the Basement so she'd finally stop bothering him.
Tell me what you find out, Emma replied immediately, wondering how this all tied together. Victoria Scadlock was a good looking woman. Mary Margaret was, too, particularly when she took the time to do her hair and look like something other than a schoolteacher. What kind of business was Merryweather running? Emma was starting to get asylum-like vibes off of this, starting to think there was something big and dangerous hidden underneath a more respectable veneer, and her instincts were lighting off. So, she spent a little more time digging into Merryweather's past, losing herself in that until she heard the front door open and shut again. Putting the files aside, Emma rose from her seat on her bed. By the time she walked downstairs, Mary Margaret was in a slightly better mood.
She was also staring at a pile of cash sitting on the kitchen table.
"I told him he didn't have to," Mary Margaret said softly, her eyes full of wonder. "But he said that Regina wanted to help, too, and that this is from both of them."
"I…that's a lot of money," Emma said, stunned.
"I barely know her," Mary Margaret continued, staring at Emma like she would have the answers. "Why is she being so nice to me?"
"That's a good question," Emma replied, thinking—almost against her will—about the past that Regina claimed to share with Mary Margaret. "Maybe you were friends in a past life or something," she added lamely, and was rewarded by a little laugh.
"Or before this curse of Henry's?"
"Yeah. Something like that."
{**********}
That same evening, Belle snuggled up against her husband after he put their daughter to bed, slipping an arm around his waist and looking up at him. His lips twitched into a smile immediately, but she saw calculation flash through brown eyes, and Belle knew that perhaps her efforts to persuade him were a bit transparent. Then again, he knew her way too well.
"Will it make you happy if I help Mary Margaret?" Rumplestiltskin asked before Belle could even open her mouth.
"Well, yes," she replied. "I just…it's terrible, what Cora is doing to her. And it's not that I want Cora to realize that you remember, because I don't. I don't want to cause trouble for you with her…I just want to help. If you can do it without her realizing what you're doing."
The mention of Cora made her husband grimace, and Belle hated herself for reminding him. Rumplestiltskin tried so hard to shield Belle from the damage Cora had done to him—both physically and emotionally—but she knew. She knew him better than he wanted to admit she did, too, and Belle understood that Rumplestiltskin was very frightened. He hated being helpless, and Cora was able to make him feel that way. In some ways, Belle was fairly sure that was the root of Rumplestiltskin's problems more than the actual abuse was; he'd spent centuries proving to himself that he wasn't powerless, only to find that he was. In some ways, but some was enough for Rumplestiltskin.
Fortunately, Cora appeared to have been distracted enough over the past two weeks that she summoned him rarely. Belle was so glad for that, and not only because she treasured her evenings with her husband. She thought she could help rebuild his scared psyche a bit if only Cora would leave him alone, and so far the Evil Queen had been strangely considerate. I know he's clever enough to find a way to help Mary Margaret without letting Cora realize what's going on, she thought, watching the pensive look on his face. Rumplestiltskin was one of the smartest people Belle had ever met, and she had faith in him.
"All right," he said softly. "If it will make you happy."
"Of course it will," Belle replied, coming up on her tiptoes to kiss him lightly. "I always knew you were a good man underneath that monstrous mask you like to wear."
Rumplestiltskin snorted. "Don't start with that."
She just smiled. "Too late." Then she cocked her head to study him, wondering if that was too easy. "I expected to have to convince you."
"Well, you're still welcome to try the convincing part if it's interesting," he murmured, leaning in to kiss her neck gently. "But I thought that I could skip straight to the 'making love to my wife' part if I agreed more quickly."
Belle giggled. "And there I thought that I would have to bribe you," she joked.
"Well, perhaps I should have held out longer," Rumplestiltskin replied, leaning in to kiss her. Belle let her arms wrap around his neck, treasuring this moment. Even after a month of living together and being able to kiss in this Land Without Magic, she never tired of it. Or of him.
"I think you're doing all right," Belle assured him, pushing the door to their bedroom open. She'd ask him for details tomorrow. Tonight, Belle just wanted her husband.
{**********}
2 Years, 10 Months Before the Curse
Rolling to his feet, David lashed out with his sword at the berserker shadow that had been dogging his steps for the last hundred or so yards. He'd spent those hundred yards—and what felt like forever—dodging and slaying four vicious wolves, a giant bat that foamed from the mouth with hugely terrifying teeth, and an odd rock creature that had tried to crush him. He'd managed to slay all of those creatures, but the shadow remained with him, periodically throwing miniature bolts of lightning or fireballs his way, usually at the least opportune moment. It was obviously as much a part of the 'gauntlet' as the other creatures were, but it was far cleverer and faster than the others. David had tried to kill it when it first showed up, and it had thrown him halfway across the troll bridge without seeming to exert itself at all. The trolls hadn't been happy, and tried to charge him for passage a second time, but David had managed to sprint away before that could become a mess.
Then had come the first two wolves, followed by the bat, and then the other two wolves. He was dripping sweat and freezing cold now, feeling like he'd been through a whirlpool of magic and power, or like he'd been running all day and was ready to drop. David had no idea how long it had taken him to make it those hundred yards, but he was exhausted already. Of course, as soon as he had killed the rock creature—after dodging its rainbow of sparks that seemed to be made of acid and getting his leg burned rather badly—the shadow attacked once more.
The shadow dodged his sword thrust and launched another fireball; David jumped aside just in time, but felt the searing heat as the fireball skirted by his right cheek. Pivoting on his left foot, he feinted left and then brought his sword arcing around in a sweeping cut to the right, hoping to catch the shadow's midsection and end this once and for all. Finally, his attack connected, and the sword bit into substance that seemed more solid than a simple shadow could be. In fact, it hit hard enough to make his wrists sting immediately, but David gritted his teeth and continued the cut, finally sawing the shadow in half.
It crumbled to the ground, collapsing into wisps of darkness that looked like fog. The mess pooled at David's feet as he heaved a sigh of relief. Hopefully, Snow was around the next bend, but if not, he'd keep fighting until he got to her.
Then the two pieces of the shadow picked themselves up off of the ground, each throwing fireballs at the prince. Yelping, he barely rolled away in time.
"You have got to be kidding me!" David swore as he picked himself up, then promptly hit the ground again to avoid another fireball, this one from the lower half of the shadow. How can legs throw a fireball? How the heck did it grow hands?
And the damn thing had grown hands. Little stubby ones, sticking right out of the top of the legs. It didn't seem to have a head, or even feet any more—had those turned into the hands?—but it did have pretty good aim. Despite not having eyes. At least the top half had eerily blue glowing eyes.
The top half of the shadow seemed to snarl, making a rattling noise that David had finally figured out indicated that it was about to throw lightning bolts at him. So, he threw himself aside for the umpteenth time, dodging the lightning bolts and closing in with the bottom half of the shadow-demon-thing. An armless, feetless, headless, and torso-less monster, David thought to himself. Thing. Whatever it was, a second strike from the magical sword dug in deeply enough, and this time David cut it in half vertically. The two legs—each with their own tiny hand flailing—fell to the ground, again collapsing into a ball of fog. This time, however, the pieces seemed to stay like that, and didn't reconstitute into two more attackers.
Unfortunately, the top half of the thing hit him with a tiny bolt of lightning while he was distracted, making David howl in pain. This one hit him square in the left side, right at the bottom of his ribcage, and it hurt. Staggering, David wheeled on the shadow and did the one thing that it probably hadn't believed he would do: he charged. It was a last-ditch, desperate maneuver, one that no swordsman in their right mind would try unless they had no other choice. However, since that pretty much defined David at the moment, he figured it was worth a go.
Split in half, and lacking the legs that seemed to do most of the directing when it was flying, the top half of the shadow moved much more slowly than David was expecting. So, he hit it head on with his body instead of just with his sword, sending it into a snarling pinwheel. Twisting right, David slashed once, then twice, and then three times, cutting the upper half of the shadow into six misshapen pieces. With one last snarl—and a final lightning bolt burning out of its flopping left hand—the shadow demon collapsed into another puddle of shadowy fog. This one didn't get up, either.
"Good riddance to you, too," the prince told the mess at his feet, panting. He took a moment to catch his breath, doing a quick check to make sure he wasn't any more hurt than he'd already been, and then strode for the corner up ahead. He had to be getting close now. He had to.
Of course, there was an ogre waiting when David came around that corner, and it immediately tried to smash his head in with a club.
Fortunately, he was quick enough on his feet to dodge the giant club as it came crashing down, wheeling away from the roaring creature and opening the range before it could take another swing. Whoever had set this trap up—undoubtedly Queen Cora—had obviously not expected David to have any experience at all with ogres, but he and Snow had come across a trio of them while they'd been on the run from Cora the first time. He hadn't known anything about them, but Snow had, and that had been when David had learned to go for an ogre's eye to kill them. Of course, that worked much better if one had a bow or at least a good set of throwing knives, but David hadn't thought to bring a bow, and he wasn't very good at throwing knives, anyway. So, he'd have to improvise.
Dodging again as the ogre lumbered towards him, David tried to judge the distance and see if he could just make it past the monster. He could see a glass coffin not far behind the ogre, and Snow had to be there, but what would he do when the ogre chased him? No, he had to kill the creature before he went for Snow, even if she was almost close enough to touch.
A sudden gust of cold air warned David that the club was coming at him again, and he dropped quickly, rolling away and then jumping to his feet. An ogre was too tall to stab in the eye, so he had to take a chance. It's now or nothing! Reaching back, David flung the magical sword with all his might, watching it flip end over end as the ogre jumped forward to take another swing at the prince. But the ogre never managed to raise its club. Instead, the sword hit and the ogre rocked back on its heels, wailing out a pathetic noise of pain that suddenly rattled to a stop. It collapsed in a heap, suddenly silent, and David waited a moment before approaching, breathing hard and unable to believe his luck.
The ogre wasn't moving, but David yanked the sword out just to be sure, watching dead limbs twitch and deciding that was just a reflex. Despite his desire to run straight to Snow—he could hear her screaming hoarsely, calling that she was sorry, with her voice echoing painfully from within the glass coffin—he had to pause and make sure that no other creatures were going to come jumping out at him. Is that it? he wondered tiredly. Surely something else is going to come out. Does Cora think that those were enough creatures to stop anyone who was really determined? Chest still heaving, David looked around the cave, but he could see nothing but the dead ogre and the glass coffin. Was it finally safe? Had he made it through? There was only one way to find out, so he jogged over to where the coffin sat upon on a dais made of rock, bracing himself for some other trap to spring itself. But even once he reached Snow's side, nothing happened, and David was finally able to look at where his love lay trapped.
Snow's hair was fanned out around her, tangled and matted. Her beautiful face was thin and pale, and sweat rolled off her forehead as she twisted and twitched. She was whispering now, not screaming, but David could barely make out the words. Her eyes were moving rapidly underneath her closed eyelids, right then left and then right again. Her expression was wild and desperate, and looking at her made Rumplestiltskin's words echo through his mind.
"Nasty little curse, that one. And not so little," the Dark One had said. "Those cursed have been known to kill their own True Loves before they can be saved."
There was only one way to find out. Sliding the cover of the coffin aside, David whispered: "Snow?"
He didn't know if she could hear him or not, but if a nightmare curse was anything like real nightmares, she should be able to. So, David reached out to touch her hair gently, hoping to rouse her from the terrible dreams obviously racing through her mind. For a long moment, Snow continued to twitch and to whisper unintelligibly, although he was able to catch a few words.
"Sorry…didn't want to…everyone dead because of me…mother…"
"Snow!" David tried again, shaking her gently. But she continued to babble until a scream tore out of her, broken and hurt, making her entire body convulse. Certain he wasn't going to get through to her, David finally leaned over, praying that she remembered his love for her and hers for him. His lips were inches from hers, and this had to be the end, didn't it? He could save her, could bring her back. Suddenly, however, Snow's eyes flew open, beautiful and desperate, and she reached for him. David's heart leapt.
Only for her hands to land on the sword Rumplestiltskin had given him and for Snow to stab it right through him.
{**********}
A/N: Yep, it was time for a Snowing cliffhanger. For anyone who is curious, the new deputy (Gary Rathbone) is Guy of Gisburne. We haven't seen him in the show, but I couldn't resist pairing him up with Keith.
Stay tuned for Chapter Thirty-Seven: "A Nightmare Come to Life," where 'Lacey' visits Mary Margaret and Emma, August goes to Mother Superior with questions, Cora sends Hook to the Basement, and Rumplestiltskin faces the consequences of his choices. Back in the past, Charming and Snow's story continues.