A/N: First off, thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews and support. It means quite a lot to me. I also hope everyone had a nice and safe holiday and have a good New Year as well. As for this upcoming chapter….boy, do I have drama saved up for you guys! It's a pretty good-sized chapter. Enjoy!
"Just a little farther now," the Queen remarked in the shell of her ear as they stumbled over the uneven terrain.
For precautionary measures, Belle's wrists had been securely bound behind her back, her mouth gagged with something annoyingly sticky, her eyes blindfolded with a thick black cloth from the Queen's office desk. Her senses had been severely limited—she could not see, taste, or feel anything with her hands. She felt like a prisoner heading toward execution.
All she could do was allow the genie to guide her and breathe softly through her nose. She tried to catch some distinct scent to paint an image of her location in her mind, but all she could smell was rain. Mud sucked her heels into the earth; several times she nearly lost her shoe.
Something hard kept prodding her in the back—Belle knew it was the gun Regina had supplied him with. Every now and then, the genie would guide her sharply to the left or the right, never in a straight path. Was he trying to confuse her further? Or was there something blocking their path, some obstacle they must avoid?
As he led her to the right again, Belle tugged away from his grasp and shifted her body to the left. For a brief second, her hands brushed against something chillingly cold, but smooth. A glacier? No, there weren't any such glaciers in Storybrooke. She wracked her mind for an answer.
Cold and smooth….It had felt like…like the sensation of the floor pressed to her cheek upon waking in the Mayor's office. Marble. That felt right. The answer whispered across Belle's mind, growing louder as she tested the weight of her theory. Marble. Gravestones. That must be what he's doing—he's moving me around to avoid walking into the gravestones. She brought me to a cemetery.
Left, right, left…Belle was certain of it now.
Rumpelstiltskin had explained it to her once. A cemetery was a single holy place where loved ones buried their dead and sometimes visited in memory of those they lost. In their world, there had been ceremonies and loved ones had buried their lost ones, but there was never a place dedicated to it.
Was Regina bringing her here to ultimately kill her? Bury her body among the countless others?
The groan of a door jumbled her nerves. Or was it a casket? Oh, please, don't let it be a casket. Please…don't let her bury me alive. The wretched scent of dust and decay invaded her nose and she longed to cough. It seeped down into her lungs and twisted her stomach. The door or whatever it was slammed shut as soon as she was guided inside and Belle's bare skin felt much cooler than it had a moment ago.
Where am I? What are you doing with me, you evil witch?
The raw sound of grinding sent her heart racing before the genie urged her forward. Oh dear, what was happening? Was it some kind of…machine? And the genie kept urging her closer….
"Careful," he quietly advised in her ear, his hand gripping her arms. Her foot slipped off the edge and shot down through the air before landing firmly on a platform directly below. A step. Yes, they were descending a flight of stairs. The Queen's stilettos hollowly clicked in Belle's mind as they followed her down…into a basement? Somewhere dark underneath the earth.
"Here we are," the Queen announced quite cheerfully, though Belle was still unable to see. The bonds on her wrists fell away, only to be replaced with icy metal. Shackles. A prison? Oh, no…was the Queen locking her away in a cell again? It was one of her greatest fears, facing that scorching rod of iron again. Please….
The cloth around her eyes loosened and the genie slipped it off. It was dim and gloomy; Belle was forced to blink multiple times before her eyes adjusted to the dark interior of the room in which they were standing. The Queen struck a match and ignited a torch on the wall, the flames flickering and casting shadows along the walls.
But the walls weren't really walls. Rows of cabinets lined them, stretching from the cracked floor to the overhanging ceiling. Some were carved with intricate designs and glowed a fearsome red. It reminded her of Christmas decorations, blinking rhythmically on and off. Except these lights did not bring joy to her heart. Only dread.
"How do you like my vault?" The Queen wandered to one section of the room and lovingly traced the designs of the drawers with her sharp nails. "This is where I keep them. My most prized and valuable trophies."
Trophies? Belle felt a chill seep into her bones as she watched the Queen open one of the drawers and remove from it an ivory black box. The genie swallowed uncertainly and backed away toward the entrance, his back hitting a wall of cabinets. Opening the lid, the Queen's ebony irises never faltered from those of her prisoner while she scooped up the contents of the box. Tauntingly, she held it out for Belle to see.
At first, Belle only caught a glimpse of it before the Queen held it under her nose and she thought it was an oddly-colored apple. She imagined the Queen forcing her to eat a poisoned apple, just like Snow White. That was before she took a good look out of curiosity and saw the object beating.
Apples did not beat.
But this…it was pulsing with life, its steady rhythm drumming in Belle's ears. Duh-dum, duh-dum, duh-dum…It matched the roar of blood in her veins. No…that can't possibly be…what I think it is…
The Queen smirked as Belle understood with haunting clarity. Frantically, her eyes traveled to the mountain of drawers, hundreds of drawers, each glowing now with the same fierce quality as the one in the Queen's palm. Hundreds of cabinets surrounding her, their contents undoubtedly the same as that ivory box.
Hearts.
"You've escaped from me again, my dear," Regina mused. From her soaked jacket, she removed the dagger and thrust the jagged end of the blade into the fire of the torch on the wall. Belle could not tear her gaze from it as the flames swallowed it. "When will you ever learn? Do I need to remind you what happened last time?"
Belle's eyes were glued to the blade that was burning hotter every passing second. That dagger was still a deadly knife, capable of doling out great suffering. Would Regina dare to use it against her? Without a doubt.
"Please…you don't need to do this," she pleaded with the Queen.
Rumpelstiltskin had told her once that evil was not born, but made. He had never been that dark being his whole life, but had adapted it for the sake of his son. Regina must have had her own reasons for descending a hopeless spiral into the powerful woman standing before her now. If that were true, if evil could be made, then could it somehow be vanquished and broken apart?
She should have known her pleas would fall on deaf ears. Hope could be so difficult to extinguish.
"Oh, but I do," the Queen disagreed. She brought the dagger away from the torch and glided toward Belle. She instinctively backed away, the chains rattling across the ground. It made the Queen snicker. "Don't worry, dear. I don't plan to brand you again. There's hardly any room left to scar except that pretty face."
Reaching out, Regina grasped Belle's chin, the points of her lacquered nails digging mercilessly into her skin. All Belle could see were those piercing endless black holes that served as Regina's eyes, the sultry irises devouring happiness for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
"What I want this time is something I should have taken the first night you spent imprisoned in my castle. Your heart. And guess what?"
Regina directed Belle's chin to observe the genie dragging a mirror into the center of the room. Belle's reflection looked nearly as traumatized and ragged as the pitiful girl Regina had terrorized in this land. Something tickled the lobe of her ear and she realized it was the warmth of Regna's breath, humid as a dragon's.
"He'll be watching."
….
He didn't stray too far from the mirror in the library, just in case Belle managed to communicate with him again. However, he did venture to the upstairs bathroom to tend to his bleeding hand, ravaged by the force in which he had gripped the ivory frame of the mirror. It burned and throbbed endlessly. The sound of laughter and music dogged his heels; if his absence was noticed at the ball, no one was complaining.
In the bathroom, he opened the medicine cabinet to retrieve a roll of gauze and the brown bottle of antiseptic. Fingers blooming, he studied the miserable cut that ran across his palm. Nothing seriously deep, but enough to sting.
Involuntarily, he hissed upon splashing some of the antiseptic on his cut to clean the wound. Hastily, he began to dress it, pulling the gauze tight into a knot between his teeth.
Somehow he knew Belle would have naturally been more apt at this sort of thing. Oh, well. He'd have to endure, as he had endured so many worse wounds during his time as the Dark One. Just because he could not die, didn't mean the wounds hurt any less. I suppose I should be grateful I still have a hand, he thought wryly.
Returning to the library, practically running to its door, he planted himself in front of the mirror and stared hard at his unchanging reflection, waiting. After a few moments, he began to pace anxiously before it, willing Belle's lithe body to substitute his own frantic one in the glass.
What if Regina were hurting her right this very instant? What if Belle was unable to reach a mirror, never to communicate with him again? The soreness in his hand held no candle to the dreadful ache burning deep inside his chest, a volcano threatening to erupt.
He needed to do something to find his love. Now was not the time for cowardice. Think, he encouraged his overworked brain as he perched on the edge of the black couch. Regina would take her somewhere that she would be certain I could not find easily. Not her house, not her office…
In the mirror, his reflection seemed to quiver and become distorted. Leaping up from his seat, he held his breath as he watched Belle's reflection override his own.
It was the same as before—it was frustratingly impossible to determine Belle's location due to Regina's layer of magic. That would be the fun in Regina's game. She wanted him to suffer with not knowing where Belle was, to struggle in his task of chasing her down.
"Belle, I'm coming for you. If she hurts you…" The dark promise did not need to be voiced in order to hang in the air.
That was when he took a good look at Belle. Past the tattered muddy stains of her once pure dress, past the disheveled state of her body. He noticed the thick, iron chains with shackles clasped around Belle's wrists. He pressed his good hand to the glass, as though he could channel his magic right then and there to free her.
"What has she done to you? Belle, where are you?"
It was raining out; he knew that for a fact. Droplets of rain slid down along the glass of the library windows, little teardrops being shed in the wake of Belle's disappearance. The brown stains on the bottom of her dress suggested she had been outside recently, sloshing through the mud. Was Regina moving her around Storybrooke?
Was she perhaps somewhere in the woods? A needle in a haystack.
"Please," Belle murmured, wrestling with the formidable chains. They raked across the ground, grinding and rattling until he cringed. He could tell she was too much of a distance away to reach the mirror. "Regina, she—"
"Ah, ah, ah!" That mocking voice, bittersweet as dark chocolate, interrupted Belle.
From somewhere beside the mirror, Regina proudly strode into view, though he could only see the back of her raven head while she flitted toward Belle. Those cornflower blue eyes he adored widened in unease and distrust. Belle was anticipating something truly horrible, something that shook her nerves to the core, he realized.
"What did I tell you? No spoiling the fun. Every time you try, your punishment will worsen." Regina clucked her tongue and wagged a finger in Belle's face. Even without seeing her face, he could hear the glee dripping from every syllable she spoke. Regina was enjoying this.
Over her black-suited shoulder, he caught a glimpse of defiance in Belle's eyes right before she lurched her head forward and sunk her teeth into Regina's hand. That's my girl, he silently cheered her on while fearing for her well-being at the same time. Always the brave one, Belle would not go down without a fight.
Belle's jaws stayed locked as Regina howled in pain, her skin scraping along Belle's teeth. She forcibly wrenched her hand away and even he could see the broken skin on her hand. The teeth marks were quite prominent. While Belle spat out the taste of the Queen from her tongue, Regina was a whirlwind of fury.
"Why, you inconsiderate—" Regina raised her gnawed hand to strike Belle and he wished he could jump right through this mirror as Jefferson would pass through one into Wonderland.
"Regina," he barked, desperately trying to catch her attention. He was the bigger threat, was he not? Her hand halted in the air, a mere foot from Belle's jaw. But Belle never flinched or cowered. He knew she would have stared Regina in the face until that blow came. "If you lay a hand on her—"
She whirled in the direction of the mirror, sneering.
"You'll do what, Rumpel? Increase my rent? Perhaps the money will pay for her casket." The ridicule sent his blood boiling through his veins, his nerves coiling in absolute loathing. This was all a game to her; a simple game of chess. His lips curled back over his teeth, the clenching of his jaws revealing his rage.
"I will see to it you no longer have that hand, among other things," he hissed, dipping his head deliberately toward her chest.
Behind her, his focus was drawn to Belle with the motion of movement. Ever so slowly so as to hopefully avoid rattling the chains, Belle placed a trembling hand to her own chest, though the chains restricted it coming in contact. Her eyes pleaded, but Regina was too focused on Rumpelstiltskin's threat to pay attention to her prisoner.
"Oh, yes. You mentioned something about…ripping my black heart from my chest?" His gaze slid slightly to Belle, who repeatedly brought her hand away from her chest, fingers curled into hooks. His forehead sported anxious lines in his concentration. What are you trying to tell me, Belle? Did she encourage him in ripping the Queen's heart out?
Regina smirked brilliantly, reveling in the aces she apparently held firmly in her deck of cards.
"Funny you should mention ripping out hearts. You taught me well."
And suddenly, he knew exactly what Belle had been trying to convey silently to him. He practically envisioned a thought bubble above Regina's head before she spun violently on her heel and plunged her hand into Belle's chest.
"No," he and Belle shrieked together.
The act of ripping out a person's heart could be quite painless, unless discomfort and agony were willed by the person doing the ripping. And so Belle tossed her head back and screamed in agony, tears streaming down her cheeks and shining in the otherwise inky environment of the mirror. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as Regina roughly scrambled for her beating heart. The chains scraped, rattled, grinded against the floor until it became the tune of her screaming.
And the screams…oh, the screams were blood-curdling. They haunted his ears until he could no longer take it.
At the moment that Regina wrested Belle's heart into her palm, he wrenched his arm back and drove his fist into glass, shattering Regina's face. Her wicked laughter followed him as he retrieved his cane and proceeded to slam it into the mirror. The glass transformed into a spider-web pattern, the cane crashing into it again and again.
Of all the things Regina could strip from Belle, it was one of the things she valued most.
"Don't worry, Rumpel. I won't kill her…yet," Regina's smug voice taunted maliciously through the dangling shards of glass, the black of her apparel and red of her curved lips scattered among the fragments. All he could see of Belle was the gold of her dress. Shut up, he roared inside his head, his knuckles bone white as his fingers curled around the cane. "I can't promise she won't suffer, though. For every second it takes you to find us, she'll be subjected to endless agony. All I have to do is squeeze…"
And then the screams rose again with a vengeance. It was impossible to depict Belle's tortured face, but he was certain it matched his own. He felt the tremendous ache in his chest, as if it were his own heart that Regina coveted.
Dropping the cane, he covered his ears with his hands and sealed his eyes shut, hoping to block out the screams. He pictured Belle smiling and happy as she swirled across the dance floor in his arms, her ready agreement to be his wife, the way her rose petal lips felt against his in the sweetest of kisses…
The child-like wonder on her gentle face as they lounged in each other's embrace, swimming under the waterfall; the serenity that emanated about her when she avidly read a book; the way her body felt the night they made love beside the cabin's fireplace….
It was no use.
Belle's agonized screams, raw and impossibly high-pitched, broke through the barrier of his hands and poisoned his mind, thrusting an icy dagger into his heart. Teeth gritting, he abruptly kicked the mirror until it teetered unsteadily and collapsed against the wall. The broken glass thundered down into a glittering pool on the floor.
The screams stopped, though the memory of them would not leave his ears. Hearing slowly returned, the silence of the library deafening. And then the footsteps started on the stairs.
"Are you sure you're not tuning in to incredibly loud rock music? Guys tend to scream their lyrics," Emma's voice filtered in from the hallway. There were more than two sets of footsteps pounding in synch with hers.
"I'm positive. It came from up here, I know it," Red insisted.
The library door burst open, but all Rumpelstiltskin cared to do was control his heavy breathing and stare dismally at the ruined remains of the mirror. Any connection with Belle was lost. The footsteps stopped within a foot of him and he knew they were studying the broken mirror and his shaken face.
"Let me guess: bad hair day?" Emma quipped boldly, earning a scolding shush from Snow White. His fists curled by his sides, no trace of humor shadowing his face as he finally acknowledged the intruders. In a group they huddled—Emma, Red, Snow, Charming, and Jefferson.
He dared not meet the hatter's seeking eyes; it only reminded him that Belle valued their friendship. If he was not careful, Jefferson would recklessly follow in his footsteps and attack Regina, even if it meant the possibility of death. Not that he treasured the hatter's company, but Belle would be heartbroken, if she survived tonight.
This was the second time in his life that he questioned Belle's mortality.
"Belle…is gone," he begrudgingly admitted, averting his gaze to the delicate shards on the floor. Hearing the truth spoken aloud only twisted the knife deeper. It was silent a tense moment, everyone absorbing the information and struggling to process its meaning.
And then Jefferson charged forward.
"What do you mean she's gone? Gone where?" Rumpelstiltskin could not answer with certainty, so he chose silence. Jefferson gave a dry laugh. "Here I thought you liked keeping your enemies close and your possessions closer," he spat. The eggshells beneath their feet cracked—Rumpelstiltskin came to life long enough to shove Jefferson back against the wall and corner him.
"She is not a possession. She is my fiancée," he roared, prepared to take his anger out on the hatter. Something flashed in front of his vision and suddenly Emma was blocking his path, holding a hand up to stop him from coming closer. He glared down at her hand and the way she shielded Jefferson's body.
"What happened to her?"
She brought his mind back to the matter at hand. Red wrapped her arms around her body and hung her head. Snow and Charming wore matching expressions of sadness and sympathy as they waited upon Rumpelstiltskin's words. Raggedly, he sighed.
"Regina is keeping her imprisoned somewhere. Before you ask, I don't know where. But I do know she…ripped out her heart," he explained reluctantly. Snow gave a small gasp and pressed a hand to her lips in horror. Jefferson paled, his eyes drooping with disappointment.
"Then, she's dead," he muttered. A grim gleam settled on Rumpelstiltskin. "You know the Queen will kill her. She never lets anyone get away." The weight of that knowledge had burdened his mind ever since watching that grisly act of torture being executed on Belle. But he knew Regina; he knew how she enjoyed playing her games.
"No. She will not kill her yet. Belle is bait, to lure me out," he responded flatly, his shoe nudging a few of the glass shards. They crunched under his soles. Lifting his head, he deliberately met Red's eyes. If anyone could prove useful to sniffing out Belle, it was the wolf. "I need your help to find Belle. Please."
If Red was shocked by the pleading note in Rumpelstiltskin's voice, her face did not betray it. Decidedly, she nodded.
"As long as you have something that will allow me to track a scent, I should be able to sniff her out. Oh, but the ball was just getting so good, too," she protested. He led them out of the library, with Jefferson keeping stride with him.
"Just so you know," Jefferson said under his breath so only Rumpelstiltskin would be privy to his words. "If we find Belle, I plan to behead Regina. The only reason I'm telling you is because I know you won't hold it against me."
Rumpelstiltskin humored the hatter's dark promise of revenge. Not if I behead her first.
…..
Belle had always thought that the worst possible pain in all her life was the burning of that iron rod scorching the skin of her arms and back during her imprisonment in the Queen's dungeon. But she knew now that she had been naïve and dreadfully wrong in the matters of pain.
This pain…it was torture in every right. Even though her heart was now separate from her chest, she could feel the Queen's fingers digging into the meaty organ, the blood pumping and throbbing around her rose-red nails. Every inch of Belle's body was on fire, burning with torment as the Queen squeezed, squeezed, squeezed…
Chest tightening like piano wire, Belle could hardly draw in a breath. Arms flailing by her sides, legs buckling, the room spinning in a blur…it was enough to make her experience black spots in front of her eyes.
Miraculously, the Queen relented on squeezing Belle's heart as she would an anger-management toy. Belle collapsed in a shaking heap on the floor, a cold sweat breaking out across her forehead. Her throat was sore from screaming and her chest felt ready to explode.
But at least the pain was beginning to subside…
"Don't look so relieved, my dear. You can't expect me to squeeze it until you die. That was simply the first round." Belle clenched her eyes shut and instinctively knew what was coming. It was the Queen's method of torture—to lull her into a false security by relenting only to begin anew. "Time for round two," she purred.
And she squeezed again.
…..
"The genie was the one who captured her," Rumpelstiltskin explained as he led the group to the bedroom he shared with Belle. Noticing the confused expressions, especially on Emma's hard-edged face, he realized he needed to clarify. "Sidney Glass."
"Sidney Glass, in the bedroom, with the lamp." Jefferson quipped, earning a black glare from Rumpelstiltskin. He shrugged loosely. "This world is full of temptations. Someone has to remain a clear head while you're plotting Regina's demise." He sneered at Jefferson in disgust. You be optimistic; I'll be realistic.
"Sidney…you mean the Queen's mirror," Snow exclaimed with understanding. Everyone turned their heads in her direction. Emma stared oddly at her as if her mother had adopted a foreign language. "Once I caught Regina talking to her mirror and it talked back…."
Emma turned toward the mirror in their bedroom, as if expecting Sidney's face to pop up in the glass.
"You mean the whole 'mirror, mirror, on the wall' thing?" Emma offered her mother a skeptical look. Snow nodded lightly.
"Right, except I've never heard the Queen use those words. She was asking the mirror if she looked good in her new gown," Snow said, biting down on her lip to quell her amusement. And I'll bet that lovesick genie told her she was the fairest of them all. Even if her dress was big enough for a circus tent, Rumpelstiltskin thought bitterly. He bent to retrieve the discarded black glove on the floor.
"This belongs to him. I believe Belle bit his hand," he said, passing the glove over to Red. He chuckled deeply, recalling the way Belle bit the Queen's hand as well. "She tends to do that."
"I'm liking her more and more every inconvenient situation," Emma commented. If only she had witnessed Belle biting the Queen—he had the strangest feeling that their savior would have cheered, too.
"Then you must love me," Jefferson dared to give his input, dipping his head close to Emma's head. Both Charming and Snow offered him warning looks while Emma swatted him away with her hand. Rumpelstiltskin's patience had nearly reached its end. I don't have time for this unnecessary drama.
"Belle's life hangs in the balance. Now, sniff," he demanded Red, pointing sharply to the glove. Only problem was that Red never liked being told what to do, not even when it came to her Granny. She pursed her lips and purposely hesitated in holding the glove to her nose.
"I am not some hound dog that you can control and—" All of a sudden, her muscles stiffened and her head jerked up into the air. Her nose twitched in the manner of a dog. "I think I've got a scent." She sniffed the black glove for good measure and nodded in affirmation.
A terrible stone seemed to lift from his chest, allowing him to breathe a little more easily. This was it—they would be able to track Belle down and save her from the Queen's wrath.
"Then, let's save her," Charming boldly announced, his hand quivering for a sword. Snow inclined her head in agreement, but Emma shook her head negatively.
"No. You have to stay here," she argued. Her parents exchanged looks of disbelief and opened their mouths to protest, but something in Emma's eyes gave them pause. "You have to be here for Henry, in case Regina tries something else."
Rumpelstiltskin respected the fact that Emma considered Henry's protection and well-being above her own. Now that Regina held the dagger in her possession and controlled his power, that sense of invincibility could drive her to take Henry back as well. Maybe some of Emma's reasoning was also due to Snow's safety—being one of Regina's biggest threats meant there was a chance she would turn her power on Snow.
Likewise, he could tell Snow wanted nothing more than to protect her daughter, but her resolve diminished at the mention of Henry.
"We'll protect Henry," she promised, pulling Emma into a warm embrace. She stroked Emma's blonde hair and sent a piercing glare to Jefferson over her shoulder. "Be careful, Emma," she whispered in her daughter's ear. Rumpelstiltskin was sure Snow wasn't simply talking about Regina.
Emma stepped back to join their group and three pairs of eyes settled on Red. The young wolf, still gripping the glove, smiled.
"Follow me."
…..
It was one of those times that he regretted relying on appearances and neglecting to invest in a sensible pair of shoes.
Red tracked Sidney with her sensitive nose twitching like a rabbit's, leading them from the puddle-covered streets and along the woods. The soles of his shoes sank into the mud as did the end of his cane. It was a miracle the women did not lose their heels, though Emma was grumbling quite a bit under her breath. Halfway through their journey, Red abandoned her heels and went barefoot altogether.
"Are you sure your nose is following the right scent? Because at the moment, we are heading into a cemetery," Jefferson pointed out as he trudged through the mud. Red never paid him any mind as they passed through the entrance of the cemetery. "You know, the place you people store dead bodies in this world?"
Huffing, Red spun on him, making him halt in his tracks.
"Are you the werewolf with the heightened sense of smell or am I?" It was meant as a rhetorical question, but Jefferson often failed to control his tongue.
"Depends. Which one of us pops a tail?" Fortunately for him, tonight was not a full moon or Red would demonstrate the way her tail "popped." Instead of biting his head off—literally—Red glared spitefully at him and smoothed down her soaked ruby dress. No fur here. "Joke," Jefferson waved it off.
"Now is not the time for quips," Emma snapped, shoving him forward toward a gravestone. Red lifted her face to the sky, sprinkles of rain splashing her skin. Eyes closing, she turned her head this way and that.
"It's…it's…I've lost the scent," Red solemnly admitted, shoulders slumping in despair. That was not the answer Rumpelstiltskin was expecting. Charging over to Red, he snatched the glove from her hand and thrust it under her nose. His other hand, still holding his cane, came up and held her head in place even as she tried to twist away.
"Well then, dearie…I suggest you find it again," he growled in her ear, ignoring her cries as the glove blocked her nostrils time and again. Belle was somewhere out there, no doubt facing unimaginable torture at the hands of Regina and he'd be damned if he was about to give up hope on her now due to a wolf's failure in tracking.
Rough hands tugged on his shoulders, prying him away from Red. Whirling, he caught himself from lashing out upon recognizing Emma's face. She used his hesitance to stand between him and Red, who was doubled over and coughing.
"She did everything she could. Be grateful she led us this far," Emma thundered, shielding Red's body. The Sheriff's bravery may have amused him once, but it did not intimidate him in the least tonight. He found himself swooping inches from her face.
"I will be grateful after Belle is returned to me and Regina's head hangs above my fireplace," he retorted. The intrusive hem-hem of a cleared throat guided their attention to Jefferson. What was he so smug about? Did he plan to brag about his marble fireplace inside his manor?
"I believe I know where we are," he hinted mysteriously, folding his hands behind his back. While Red sucked in slow breaths of fresh air, Emma and Rumpelstiltskin merely stared at the hatter in utmost confusion. I believe…Jefferson's madness is showing again.
"Congratulations," he sarcastically appraised. He was seconds away from giving him a false round of applause. "You've just realized we are standing in a cemetery with no sense of direction?" He narrowed his eyes at Jefferson's foolishness. Time was precious—the least the hatter could do was provide something useful or else keep those lips shut.
"How intelligent of me," Jefferson shot back, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "I'm not so much concerned with the fact that we're standing in a cemetery in the middle of the night. It's what's inside the cemetery that counts."
The chirping of crickets could be heard distinctly as the three of them raised their heads to gaze expectantly at Jefferson. Did he perhaps drink too much punch at the ball? The man was speaking nonsense. Finally, Emma dared to play the devil's advocate.
"You mean….bodies?" Jefferson raked a hand through his damp hair and moaned in his frustration. He waved his hands toward the other end of the cemetery.
"Yes, that is my master plan. To build us an army of zombies to attack Regina and rip her limb from limb," he spouted. "No, I am talking about the Queen's vault," he exclaimed.
Rumpelstiltskin felt the truth weigh heavily on his shoulders the moment Jefferson said it—that was where Belle and Regina would be. The problem was that he had never visited Regina's vault in Storybrooke, though she supposedly brought flowers to her father every Wednesday.
"What exactly do you hope to find in Regina's dead father's vault?" Emma scrunched her nose in displeasure as Jefferson started off into the heart of the cemetery. He smirked at their savior over his shoulder.
"The dead never crossed over to Storybrooke," he pointed out. They trudged along in silence as he allowed that to sink in. "The vault is a cover for Regina's chamber of hearts. The hearts that she ripped out and stored for future purpose." Emma kicked up some of the dirt off the ground and scowled.
"You're starting to sound like Graham. Why can't you all just get an EKG?" Jefferson ignored her protests as he dodged around gravestones and plots. At least he was a gentleman enough to avoid walking over graves.
"Naturally, that is where Regina would be keeping Belle. Probably has her heart all tucked away in a cozy little box, just like Graham's—"
"Enough," Rumpelstiltskin intercepted sharply. One more syllable about Belle's heart and he might resort to drastic measures to ease his boiling fury. Jefferson pouted, but did not press the issue. If he did, they might have been one person short by the time they found the vault.
"There it is," Jefferson motioned his hand to a vault looming into view from the darkness. The door was ajar, the casket inside pushed to one end of the vault to reveal a hidden staircase. The name Mills stared back at them from where the casket once rested.
There was no need for the confirmation, though. The tell-tale stream of screams echoed from somewhere below the vault, verifying that Belle was there, dying.
"Ruby," Emma gasped, spinning toward the young wolf and latching onto her arms. "Get back to Mary Margaret. Tell them where we are…Just in case."
In case there were no survivors among them, Rumpelstiltskin interpreted. Red looked ready to argue, but a slight squeeze in pressure on her arms convinced her to nod her head. With a small worried frown, she disappeared among the gravestones, leaving the three of them to face the vault and the inevitable battle ahead.
"Ladies first," Jefferson offered with a tense bow despite the strain in his muscles. Another volley of screams arose and Rumpelstiltskin took it upon himself to edge the vault's door wide open and rush past. "Or not."
Taking the steps two at a time, he was pulled down into the musty dimness of the vault by the raw symphony of cries, growing weaker by the turn. There were only so many times you could squeeze a heart before it became too much for the recipient to bear. In this world, it was called a heart attack.
The cracked gray walls, interrupted only by a brick archway leading into Regina's heart room, seemed to suffocate him as he emerged into the underground circular chamber. The hurried steps of Jefferson and Emma licked at his heels, slapping against the spiral-patterned marble floor. Rows of boxes lined the walls, glowing with the contents of hearts. A mirror stood a few feet away, angled toward Belle.
And Belle…
Oh, the poor state she was in. Huddled on the floor, gasping for breaths, her eyes rolling wildly in their sockets without focusing on anything too long. Nails scraping across the floor, her empty chest heaving while Regina loomed over her body and literally held her life in the palm of her hand.
"Oh, look who finally decided to join the party," Regina boasted, holding her free hand to her chest in mockery. Savoring the fresh heartbeats of her own black heart, no doubt. "Where are my manners? My guests deserve a warm welcome."
A resounding click came from behind them, though Rumpelstiltskin did not shift his head to acknowledge it. There was only one person who would willingly hold a gun to their heads tonight. Sidney. If there was any surprise written on the faces of Jefferson and Emma, the Queen swallowed it gloriously.
"You thought I would be unprepared?" Regina's heels tapped across the spiraled floor, her gaze straying to the genie beyond their shoulders. He wrestled the cane from Rumpelstiltskin's grasp, made easier by a simple request from Regina to let it go. Emma stared accusingly at him for obeying as Sidney drove the cane into Jefferson's back. "I've given him permission to shoot if anyone of you takes a step forward. Wouldn't want to be buried in an unmarked grave, would we?"
Glee and victory oozed off Regina in thick, choking waves. Behind them, Sidney thrust the end of the cane into their backs if only to remind them of the tight spot they'd been forced to back into.
"Go to hell," Emma hissed. It reminded Rumpelstiltskin how much he admired their savior's bold, blunt way with words. Tonight, he was grateful for it. Don't worry, Emma. I intend to send her there in a rowboat.
"What is with this family and hearts?" Jefferson eyed the rows of hearts skeptically. All Rumpelstiltskin could focus on was the one pulsing heart in Regina's palm, with Belle barely alert in her agony. His fingers longed to rip Regina's heart out and stomp his foot on it until it burst.
"You have one chance to release her," he warned, pointing to Belle. His lips barely moved in his anger; if his eyes could shoot daggers, Regina would be pinned to the wall. It didn't help that Regina's possession of the dagger was making it difficult for any threat to shake her.
She merely tightened her grip on the heart, bringing about a moan from Belle.
"Or what, Rumpel? You'll sic your precious savior on me? You certainly won't amount to much. Not when I have this." Slipping a hand inside her clothing, she drew out the dagger. The jagged edges glinted in the flicker of the torch's flame. Power emanated from the blade, rooting his feet in place. Waiting for her command.
"You expect to win all because of a dagger and an idiot waving a gun?" Jefferson scoffed at the Queen, branding her victory utterly ridiculous. Emma didn't seem to disagree, even as the gun nudged her blonde head.
But a spark had ignited in the depths of Regina's dark eyes, a brilliant stroke of realization encouraging the mockery. Her lips made a small 'O' as she rotated the dagger.
"Oh, I see. You never told them about my little ace, did you? What's the matter, Rumpel? Afraid they'll use it against you?"
He could feel the demanding gazes of Emma and Jefferson burning into his skin. Stubbornly, he kept his eyes locked on Regina, her voice bouncing inside his mind. In truth, that was one of his fears—that if he had told Snow White and Charming about the dagger, they would not hesitate to subdue him once and for all. Control the Dark One, rip away his freedom, separate him from Belle.
"Yes," Regina cooed. "There is but one way to control the Dark One. This dagger is the source of that incredible power and as long as I am holding it, he is nothing but a servant. Ironic, isn't it? The most powerful man in all the realms is not so powerful anymore."
He expected Emma to unleash a string of harsh words in his direction, perhaps throw in a few expletives due to this turning of the tides. Instead, she hurled her irritation at Sidney.
"How can you just stand by and watch her do this? Coward," she fired away.
Even though it wasn't directed at him, he still winced at that foul word. It stung just as much as the first few times he'd been labeled with it after running from the Ogre War. Sliding his gaze to Belle, he wanted so much to protect her. But how could he when the privilege of his freedom was stripped away?
"Love, dearie," he muttered to Emma. Jefferson grimaced beside him.
"Unfortunately, it's usually the excuse for everything in our world—good or bad," the hatter added. He sent Rumpelstiltskin a distrustful glance. "If I had a coin for every time something was done out of love…"
"Love is weakness," Regina harped, nudging her heel against Belle's side. Slowly, Belle's eyelids fluttered apart once more and she groaned. Rumpelstiltskin's heart pounded in his chest as he watched Belle strive to raise her body from the floor, using the wall for leverage.
"Rum…pel?" She whispered softly, seeking him out. She stumbled forward, but the chains prevented her progress, keeping her a good distance away. Eyeing the shackles in distraught, he could read the plea in her pale face: to take her away from this wretched place to safety.
"Belle, I'm here for you," he assured, wanting so much to cross the room and scoop her into his arms. If he did, who was to say the pathetic genie wouldn't have the gall to pull the trigger?
Magic was different in this world and, while the power of the dagger still held him entranced under Regina's control, he did not know whether he would be allowed to die by a bullet or would merely suffer by bleeding out.
"You want her heart so badly? Here, catch," Regina said and tossed the heart into the open.
Forgetting the threat of the gun, he lurched forward into the center of the room and deftly caught Belle's heart in the cradle of his hands. Belle breathed a sigh of relief, but he sensed that Regina's macabre game was far from over. For one thing, there was no sound of gunfire or a bullet anywhere in his body—there must have been a reason Regina signaled Sidney to hold off his attack. Emma and Jefferson would not have been as lucky.
Those distasteful red lips would not be lifting with satisfaction, would they? Regina's nails skated across the elegant engraving of his name on the blade of the dagger, taunting him with the power channeling through her body.
"Show me you know what to do with it…dearie," she lilted menacingly.
He felt every nerve in his body freeze over and ultimately knew that he had done exactly what Regina wanted him to do upon catching Belle's heart in his hand. It was as safe in his possession as it had been in Regina's. He anticipated the deadly command dancing on her tongue.
"My wish is your command. And my command is simply this: take her heart and crush it. Squeeze it until there is nothing left but dust."
…
Dun, dun, dun! Sorry to leave you on such a horrible cliffhanger, everyone! I was almost finished writing this chapter before Christmas, but I figured that cliffhanger would have bothered you all throughout the holiday.
For now, I would like to once more thank all those that have reviewed and taken the time to read my story. You guys are awesome. A big thank-you goes out to SweetyK, Grace5231973, Bluecanbegreen, Drac1026, JulialovesLovato, Lupa Eira, discotimelord, thedoctorsgirl42, cheesyteal'c, LionshadeSC, SwanQueen4055, rene10, White Belt Writer, and Romance and Musicals.
Thank you all so much and have a happy New Year, now!