Well hello there! Sorry it's so late – I've been crazy busy! Anyway, hope you like what you read :)
Alas, I do not own OUAT.
The dust eventually settled, leaving only floating remnants of what had taken place. The Swan girl and her naïve, simple mother Snow White had escaped her, disappearing in a collage of noise and darkness with their two followers in tow. Useless comrades. Pointless cargo. They who offered nothing but a slight distraction. Oh how Cora loved rendering them to mere inanimate objects lying on the blistering chill of the concrete ground. Who did they think they were going up against a powerful sorceress such as she? Foolish girls.
The warrior girl, whose expression pinched as if frozen in a constant state of distaste, showed promise. She could have proven difficult. But luckily, she was otherwise detained with keeping the pampered princess that tagged along for the ride out of trouble. She really was of no use to them; they should have cut her loose a long time ago.
And yet they were saved, gladly oblivious and ignorant to Cora's survival as they traipsed away from the scene of the destruction, their voices faint as they moved further away, the echoes like whispers, curling around her. Her body trapped beneath mounds of crushing rubble, it took her hours to build up enough strength to manoeuvre her way out safely. The blinding pain was a deterrence, her limbs crying out to be healed, to be fixed, to be whole again, but if there was one attribute Cora possessed in bucket-loads, it was perseverance. Determination and the ability to see out a plan to the bitter end was a code by which she lived her life from a young age. She was determined to break away from the seal and the prejudice of being a miller's daughter and to become a force to be reckoned with. Wanting those who had passed judgement on her to kneel before her throne wasn't too much to ask was it? Power meant respect. All she dreamt of was being respected.
Furthermore, she was determined that her daughter would grow up to be a most potent Queen, living the life she had always desired. To be feared, to be adored – that's what her hopes were for her. To be the mother to the Queen would have been enough for her. Sure, there were enormous strings to be pulled and pieces of puzzles to be filled but her perseverance was almost noble. Dream, hope, act: a motto to be lived by.
And in no way were Snow White and her pesky daughter going to ruin all of her hard work. Regina may not have understood her actions all those years ago, but in defying her wishes, she fulfilled them. She was revered; she was feared. She was powerful. And Cora willed nothing more than for them to reconnect and rule as a family again, regaining a status once lost.
No, Snow and Emma had to pay. They couldn't just leave her for dead. Every action has a reaction and Cora was determined to bring them to their knees if it was the last thing she did.
"I don't understand," Regina said, squinting in the dim light. Only a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling provided light. "What is going on here?"
Her mother looked at her quizzically. "Why, isn't it obvious?"
Regina intertwined her fingers. "All that's obvious to me is that you have two people held captive in a basement. I really have no idea what purpose this serves."
"Oh my dear daughter, you need to look at the big picture." She placed a hand on her shoulder. "Come, let's discuss plans over dinner."
"You want to have dinner with me?" she asked incredulously.
Her smile, though trying to be genuine, came across as mischievous. "For quite some time."
She had to least hear her out, right?
It'd be wrong not to.
Henry, whipped up into some kind of itching frenzy, relayed a million thoughts per minute, vying to be of use somehow. David appreciated the boy's willingness to inject himself into the plan to figure out what had happened to his wife and daughter, but his eagerness was starting to prick his nerves that were already in tatters. He was trying to remain calm by not rushing for answers and instead waiting to see if they reappeared, calling their cells regularly, hoping it was all one big misunderstanding.
What exactly could have happened to them?
But it had amounted to nothing. Time had passed and Henry was getting antsy and Neal had resorted to pacing back and forth in the kitchen…as if the movement would somehow magically bring them back.
Charming remained seated at the table, his eyes staring at his phone like he was anticipating something would pop up on it and solve all his problems.
No, something was definitely wrong.
He stared at the wood grain on the table, doggedly following its intricate pattern.
"So what's the plan?" Neal goaded from across the room. "We've waited and they haven't shown up. What's the next step? Where do we look?"
Charming ran a hand through his hair making it stick up in different places. "Eh… he hesitated, thinking, "…Ruby. We should find Ruby. She'll be able to help us," he directed to his grandson who received the idea warmly, flashing the man a toothy grin in agreement.
"Who's Ruby?"
Planting his two hands on the table, he rose to his feet, imagining he was back in the Enchanted Forest ready to lead an army into battle. "Someone valuable who will help us," he answered elusively, choosing to be as vague as possible.
Neal leaned forward, his shoulders tense. "I don't mean to sound rude or anything but how is some chick supposed to help us? I mean, shouldn't we be looking for someone with a little more…prowess? It's pretty dark outside and I can't imagine this Ruby would be much use to us."
David crossed his arms, a slight smirk breaking through his stern expression. "Well then you obviously don't know her because then you would know that she thrives at this time of night," he said candidly. "And someone with more prowess? What, hoping to take a trip to see your father?"
"If it means bringing us closer to finding Emma and her mom, then yeah I was considering it, pal," he sneered.
He could have answered, he could have told him to go, he could have kicked him out. There was an endless supply of options available to him but an indifferent shake of the head was all that manifested. Keeping his eyes locked to his in duelling battle, he cleared his throat. "Henry, go grab a jacket. It's gonna be cold out."
The kid scampered off wordlessly, sensing the tension that had taken a firm hold over the room.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Neal?" David hissed, pointing in the direction Henry raced to.
The man shot back. "I think I'm trying to be of some assistance in finding Emma and if you have some kind of problem with that-"
"I meant with Henry," he interjected. Glancing to the spot the boy stood only seconds before he lowered his voice, a dull ache over his eye making itself known to him. In all the confusion of the past few hours and the irritation he harboured over Neal's very presence, David had succeeded in blocking out enough distressing emotion to keep himself a steady force. But the churning in his stomach was persistent in that he didn't allow him veer off what was important: his wife and his daughter had virtually vanished into thin air, without a single trace of evidence left to aid him.
"Look," Neal replied, scratching over his ear, "I heard Emma's wish and I, uh, I'm gonna stick to it. She wants to tell the kid herself then I have to honour that. But that doesn't mean that I have to stay away from him." He stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I want to know him. I want him to know me. And I think we both deserve at least that."
Charming clucked his tongue, stumped. Of course Henry should know his father but the timing…well, the timing was terrible. The whole situation was like a ticking bomb, slipping ever closer to the explosion.
But what could he say to him?
"Okay fine. I don't like what you did, I don't like your attitude but you know what? I need help. I do - I admit it. And I love Henry. And I'm going to do right by him and by what Emma wants and-"
"I won't say anything to him about me. I promise, grandpa," he quipped just as Henry skipped back into the room with his jacket half-hanging off him.
With a few quick movements he was all set, his coat zipped up to the top, a torch ready to light in his hand.
"You ready?" David asked him. Unhooking his jacket from the hanger, he slinked his arms into the sleeves.
"Yep. We gonna get Ruby?"
"You bet, kid."
A small box of random items sat sweetly against the wall underneath the coat hanger and David hunkered down, rooting through the various things until he eventually pulled out another torch. This one was three times the size of Henry's and was much heavier but nevertheless, he chucked it to Neal without giving him much warning. Though stumbling back a little with the force, then man caught it in his arms.
"What's this for?" He turned it on and off twice.
"What, you've never seen a torch before?" David grabbed his keys off the dresser. "It's just in case we find ourselves in a poorly lit area. It's pretty dark out there tonight and I'm taking extra precautions." His shoulders back and his eyes fierce, he dropped his gaze on his composed grandson and then onto the equally cool Neal. "Now let's do this."
"Don't worry Gramps; we always find our family," Henry chimed as if to reassure one last time.
Hearing those words from Henry sparked a new fire within Charming and more than ever he wanted to live up to that promise. Regardless of what had taken place or what they were about to face, that saying was something he could cling to and know with all his heart that it would stand firm in the face of tremendous adversity.
He was coming Snow. He was coming Emma.
And they knew that.
Emma had awoken to the sound of way-too-familiar panicked lilt of her mother's voice. She didn't remember wanting to fall asleep. Or even thinking about wanting to sleep. But once her eyes were prized open and they swooped around the room, the woman's panic was far more apt than the blonde would admit.
She preferred to keep calm because not doing so resulted in some weird magical escapades that neither one of them were ready for. So instead of immediately lunging at blatant questions that had to be asked, Emma focused on the details of the space, trying to get a handle on where they were and more importantly, what they were doing there.
Nothing much dwelled in the space other than a few boxes and empty bookshelves. Helpful. All that deduced to was a basement of a house.
The metal was freezing against her wrists up to the point where it felt as though it was burning a layer through her skin. The shackles tight, she knew it would be pointless to fight them and yet, when ensnared, the natural reaction was to attack the restraint with everything inside of you. Emma pulled and pulled, thrusting her body forward, planting her legs wide apart and summoning up the strength into her arms to yank down on the chains but it all amounted to nothing. She kicked the wall in fury every time an escape plan went awry. No amount of steely force was going to snap through the chain.
Mary Margaret watched her carefully with each movement as if observing a ballet. Her hair was matted to her forehead from sweat and a mascara line marred her face from her eye down to the tip of her lip. Emma tried not to stare.
"I've been trying for hours," she said solemnly. "It's no use." Her eyes were rimmed and drooped sullenly, as if deprived of sleep for days.
The blonde grunted in aggravation, already feeling the weight set into her upper arms. "I feel a pattern emerging," she droned, clanking her chains and resting her head back against the walls. "And it's getting really annoying. Where are we?"
The brunette didn't answer right away and the only sound filling the air was the mixture of their ragged breaths bouncing off the walls. It was a tight space and in finally realizing that, an overwhelming feeling of claustrophobia swept over the blonde and she began to breathe in quicker spurts and bursts, her arms involuntarily banging against the walls. There wasn't enough air in the room for her and she dropped her eyes and squeezed them as tight as they would go, hoping to ride out the swell of fear that gripped her like a vice.
Her mother's soothing voice rose above the erratic panic. "Emma, honey, it's okay. It's okay."
"No it's not! Where are we?! We need to get out of here! I can't stay here!" Her foot assaulted the bricks behind her. "Let me out of here!" she yelled at the top of her lungs, punching her fists so the shackles created a raucous soundwave that echoed all around them.
"Emma!" her mother hissed in a heated whisper. "Stop! We're going to get out of here. Just breathe."
Emma snickered without humour. "What do you think I'm trying to do?"
Mary Margaret rolled her eyes theatrically. "Well it looks like you're trying to get us killed actually."
She jerked her head to the side. "I just need to get out of here," she stated flatly. "I can't…I can't be…here…like this." Her voice cracked at the end, tears spilling over.
Emma Swan was frightened.
Terrified.
Worried.
Intimidated.
And she wasn't even sure why.
"I just…I don't know why I..."
"Shhhh," the brunette calmed, extending her hand to the extreme so that she could grab onto hers. The touch was so reassuring, so instantly calming, and Emma did her best to hold the emotion back. All of it seemed to crumble on top of her in one day.
God how long could this day be?
From hurting her head in a minor accident, to finding out all about Neal, to having to figure out what to do with Henry and then all this talk about magic and emotion and…her accident and it was all just pushing down on her, making her feel weak and helpless and confused and alone, even though she wasn't alone and all she really wanted was to breathe again. Really breathe. Taking those kinds of breaths that clear the lungs and break apart all of the crap that hardens her heart.
"We're going to figure this out," Mary Margaret said without a hint of doubt. "That's what we do, huh? Emma Swan and Mary Margaret Blanchard and Snow White – we get through everything together. Look at what we've already faced. Cora – the all-powerful Cora – had nothing on us. Had nothing on you, my beautiful daughter. So whatever it is, whatever's going on, we're going to get through it as a team. As mother and daughter. Okay?" Her thumb ran over her knuckles in circles; the closest form of hug available to them.
Emma nodded. "Yeah. Of course we are." A deep breath shuddered from her lips. "God, when did I get so weak?" she half-laughed.
"Weak?"
"Yeah, I'm always crying now. I can't keep it all together anymore and I hate it. That's not me."
The brunette sighed. "In all fairness we are chained to a wall in a basement…again," she remarked dryly, cutting through the tension and inviting a chuckle from the other woman.
"Yeah that part sucks. I don't know who we pissed off but they've got a sick sense of humour."
"Indeed," Mary Margaret agreed. "But, Emma, crying doesn't make you weak. Know that. Believe that. There were times when I was on the run from Regina where I cried myself to sleep every night. But I had to cry. I had to get it all out. Because if I didn't, I wouldn't have been able to keep on going. I wouldn't have been able to fight. It would have eaten at me until I'm pretty sure I would have just given up." She turned her head to the front, her stare miles away. "Crying isn't weak. And you are not weak. You are the strongest person I have ever met so don't ever think you're not. Your strength inspires me Emma. A grungy basement in Storybrooke is nothing to you, do you hear me? Nothing. And we're going to figure this out."
The words were so loaded with unwavering faith and affection and Emma let them float in the air for a while, noting how much she needed to hear something like that. To be reminded of who she was – to be told that the Snow White admired her – was exactly what she wanted.
"Talk about a pep talk," she breathed, her confidence rising again.
"I may have been a princess and a Queen but I've had to give my fair share of battle cries in my time." And her air was confident; she was ready for a fight. That kind of combat elegance was admirable.
"What's the plan then? What do we do?"
Mary Margaret rubbed another circle on her hand, her grip loosening as her arm grew tired. "I would rather like to find out who was behind this."
Emma peered at her curiously, shaking some of her blonde locks off her face. "So you mean just wait here until they come down to see us?"
"Maybe."
"But shouldn't we be working on, I don't know, a plan to escape? I would rather like to get out of here alive."
"We will, Emma," the woman asserted. "But in case you haven't noticed, we're chained to a wall. Escaping isn't exactly going to be easy."
The blonde frowned and huffed. And then it hit her like a bolt of lightning. "I'll use magic," she brightened.
Mary Margaret dropped her hand as if Emma's touch had scalded her. She looked down at her empty hand in dismay. "No you will not. I will not have you use magic."
"But why? We know it'll work!"
"I said no. And that's final."
"We have to get out of here Mom and this is the only way."
The brunette's eyes flared. "And what about what happened last time? Or have you forgotten?"
"I don't need reminding for what happened before. I know what happened. I have the scars, I have the memories, I have you constantly telling me about it. I know. But it might be our only chance to get out of here."
Her mother was pained; that much was obvious. "Please, Emma. Please just hold off for now, okay? I promise that we'll get out of this but there has to be another way we can without putting you in danger."
"But what if-"
"If something happens and we have absolutely no other options, then yes I guess magic will be the solution – but that's a big 'if'. We're going to be fine and I bet your father and Henry are already on their way to finding us."
Emma smiled for the first time in the whole conversation. "Yeah. Yeah, they always find us," she commented fondly.
Her mother's expression was one of tenderness. "Yes they do. Our boys."
And though her arms were growing weary and her body cried out for relief, Emma understood something about the 'faith' her parents always spoke of. Having faith in her family was such a natural reaction to her now and she had to believe that everything would work out, that they would be found and they would be together again.
The Charmings were in the business of getting out of tight spots and she vowed to follow in that tradition.
Reaching out, Emma took a hold of her mother's hand and held on to it tightly.
Finding Snow and Emma's companions was easier than she thought. Though she was severely injured, Cora could feel the magic coursing through her veins, building back up her strength.
It turned out other people in the land weren't as vigilant as they once were before the curse broke. The warrior girl and the princess had made camp in what was Regina's old bedroom. Fools.
Snow and Emma were nowhere to be seen but the tall, untarnished mirror that stood proudly in the room was indicative enough of where they had gone: Storybrooke.
A glitch in the plan, yes, but fortune favoured the brave – and the determined ones.
Both slept silently as Cora shuffled into the room; their sleeping frames so peaceful amongst the ruins of a once great palace. Snow's daughter was indeed quite potent. In fact, Cora couldn't remember the last time she had come across such power. Yes, she indeed proved to be an obstacle and a rather large one at that, but she was more than capable of defeating her. Once her energy was back to its normal rate, she was a force to be reckoned with.
Using up the dregs of her potency to conjure enough magic to trap the slumbering women with belts and shackles to the floor, Cora fell to the stone ground, breathing heavily. She needed to rest. And with her enemies imprisoned, she allowed herself the luxury of succumbing to the need for a little while.
Part one of her plan was enacted; now all she had to do was locate a certain pirate.
Storybrooke wasn't such a dull town after all. Sure it wasn't like the old lands he was accustomed to, but boring it was not. The buildings were unusually large and decorated rather fancifully with odd signs and items displayed in the abnormally wide windows, but they were much more inviting than the ones he was used to.
Hook feared being recognised as he strolled through the streets gaining a feel of the place before he would execute his plan for vengeance. Let the crocodile enjoy one last night before he stripped him away of everything he cared about. Yet not one person even looked at him. He guessed the jacket was doing well in its plan of hiding his true identity.
As he walked, his mind wandered to what Cora was doing and how she was using Aurora and Mulan in her tract of revenge. Those poor women. Usually he wouldn't be bothered about the fates of mere acquaintances but there was something so cruel about the way two innocents were used in such a fashion.
Shaking his head to rid his mind of the thoughts, he looked up from the pavement to see two men and a young boy march into what appeared to be some kind of food place. 'Granny's' was its name. Odd title. Then something niggled at the back of his mind. Cora had mentioned the Swan woman having a son. And from the urgency of his movements, that particular boy looked to be on a mission. Perhaps a mission to find his mother?
Despite knowing nothing about him or his mother, Hook found himself following him into the building, his intrigue far too wild to ignore.
Maybe it wasn't too late to do the right thing?
I really hope you guys enjoyed that! The Cora flashbacks to when Snow and Emma had just escaped were just an idea I wanted to throw in to add a little more weight to the story; I hope they didn't come across as jarring. Anywho, I hope you liked it and please drop me a review and let me know what you thought of it :)