Regina stands outside the dingy apartment block with a frown on her face. She knows the geography of the town as though it were the back of her hand, and so realizes that the apartments at the backside of the building will overlook Gold's shop. What she is perplexed by, is the fact that the three large cement blocks that were once- in a time she knows nothing about- numbered individually from 30 to 33, have long since existed under the collective address of Elstead Place. The separate residences inside are numbered one through ten.
No letters.
No 31 B.
She is certain that this is the place however, now that she sees the opportunistic viewpoint as a factor. She knows it to be the place. Gold is sly, and possesses a vanity when it comes to his own cunning. He will have chosen the building for its location so as to keep an eye on the shop.
To watch as she and the others had failed miserably the other night and fallen into his trap. His decoy.
She is confused by the address on the insurance claims, but she will be damned if she is going to be thwarted by it. Pulling her sleek black coat firmly into place, she marches up to the first of the three doors and slips her skeleton key into the lock, her eyes flashing at the chilling click of metal on metal. Slipping inside, she stalks down the musty hallway slowly, raising her fist to knock on the first of the peeling doors, her other hand hidden within her silk-lined pocket as she fingers the butt of her gun.
"Go, get us something to eat... Get some juice for our young Sheriff as well; something sugary and calorific. If she doesn't feel like eating, it will tide her over."
Jefferson nods irritably, unsure at what point he has become the pawnbroker's lapdog within the past thirty odd hours. He is more or less unfazed by the turn of events, finding his present company a favorable change from the monotony of his solitude at home, but he grows weary of the little man's frequent threats. He supposes he will simply let such things slide until they become directed towards himself.
For now, he remains in Gold's good books, having complied with the pawnbroker's orders to dose the slippery young doctor, and has since then been left well enough alone, their alternating watch of the blonde uneventful and not worth arguing about.
He is glad that Gold has insisted they leave the Sheriff unrestrained following the disastrous conclusion of the last effort to do so. As a result, they are taking it in turns to sit in on her to make sure she behaves as she should, and he is growing quite fond of the young woman. She amuses him greatly, and her caustic remarks to his rambled monologues have him breaking into sporadic gales of laughter which she finds so hilariously alarming.
She had grown particularly nasty when he had broached the topic of her role within the Queen's dark curse; hissing at him that she didn't know who in the hell he was, or why he'd been talking to her boy, but that he should shut off his lunatic ramblings before she shut them off for him. This cold threat had left him giggling madly as he had studied her weak and wounded form laid out on the bed, to the point where the pawnbroker had come limping in to tell him to shut up. Frowning as the blonde had voiced her irritation at the subject of conversation, Gold had insisted he leave the matter alone.
And he has.
Unwillingly.
Now, offering the Sheriff a brief wave despite the fact she seems to be dozing, he slips from the room and dons his coat, nodding curtly at the pawnbroker who takes his vacated seat.
"How are you feeling, dearie?"
Gold inquires softly as he listens to the front door click quietly shut. His words are met by silence and he shrugs, unalarmed. The blonde's precarious condition has seemed to improve quite a bit since her injuries have been properly seen to, and her right hand carries a stiff splint; the fractured shards of bone no longer grating in a way he imagines to have been horrifically sickening. He is unsurprised that she should finally be taken by natural sleep.
He had been caught off guard and highly suspicious upon catching her whispering to the doctor, but she has shown no further signs of trickery; simply sufficing to glare up at him reproachfully when in his presence, and he supposes this is to be expected.
"Not long yet, I imagine, Miss Swan..."
The Sheriff keeps her eyes closed, resisting the urge to frown as Gold's words swim about her mind darkly.
Not long 'til what? What the fuck have you got planned now you little psychopath? Not long... No... That doesn't sound good... Not good at all...
She has overheard enough snippets of the men's conversations to understand that this all has something to do with Henry's book of all things, some sort of means of proof, and the Mayor.
Regina.
She is becoming increasingly concerned that the brunette is going to play a part in this madness too, and the thought terrifies her. She doesn't know what in the world the hateful little man wants with her, but she has even less of a clue what he would want with Regina, and such thoughts bring back the Mayor's concerned frown as she had stated fearfully that she didn't wish for Gold to have anything he could hold over her. She is aware that she appears to be missing a crucial part of the puzzle, but she decides it doesn't really matter now.
If the maniac wants to fuck with her, then that's just too bad and there's only so much she can do about it.
She has found though, that when the stakes point to Gold going after Regina... Fucking with Regina... Such pathetic acceptance just won't cut it.
She won't degrade her current predicament by thinking of her actions as 'taking this madness lying down', but she has been made curiously aware of just how complacent she has become in regards to her own situation by the almost unbearable rage that courses through her at the thought of the little man laying a finger on the brunette.
It surprises her.
It frightens her.
It exhilarates her.
...She has asked to use the bathroom twice now since Whale's attention to her injuries, simply nodding at the harsh threat in her ear that the room's window has been nailed shut and that any 'funny business' would be punished.
At first, Gold had refused to let her go in with the door shut at all, but she had argued vehemently against such pointless humiliation.
She had argued because it is what is expected from her. As far as she's concerned, if the old asshole wants to watch her pee then he can knock himself out.
But that wasn't the reason for her request.
She had wanted to gage the state of her body; wanted to see if her legs would remain compliant after the way they'd given up on her back in the bedroom. They had, and she had been relieved to find that despite becoming sickeningly dizzy, the trip to the dingy little room had been entirely manageable. Once inside with the door shut, she had grimaced and performed a series of stretches determinedly; her vision swimming and her stomach threatening to give up its contents, but her muscles responding quickly and thankfully.
Knowing that she possesses the strength to leave the bed if she has to, her efforts are now trained on keeping this information a well guarded secret from the little man. As such, she had stumbled purposefully on her return from her second trip, and has learnt that by digging her wrists surreptitiously into the ill-sprung mattress, the resulting pain will leave her momentarily light-headed and chalk-faced; something about which the madman had cooed over gently with sickening sympathy.
Eyelashes flickering as she hears Gold move in his chair, she cracks her lids open as little as possible and watches as he rises to go stand in the window to stretch his back. Realizing that with Jefferson gone and Whale- seriously, what kind of fucked up scam is this- lying drugged up and unconscious in the next room, that this is perhaps her best chance, she decides to take it.
Her heart beats nervously, and despite her ingrained refusal to admit such a thing, she accepts that for the second time since waking up in this shit hole, she is terrified.
But that doesn't matter right now.
"Not long yet, I imagine..."
No. If things are going to close in on Regina, then she needs to suck it up and deal with it.
You touch her, and you're dead, you little shit.
Grinding both wrists excruciatingly into the mattress, she gives a second of blind hope that she's watched enough medical shows in her time to pull this off, before forcing an intense tremor through her limbs; shaking and thrashing fitfully on the bed as she hears Gold turn at the noise with a cry, uneven footsteps hurrying over.
"Damn it!"
The brunette cries as she makes her way from the final shitty apartment; not bothering to offer an apology to the sleep-hazy patrons who had stepped back, alarmed, as the Mayor marched past them to inspect their flat.
She is mentally exhausted, having checked each of the apartments overlooking the store despite knowing in her heart that she would be unsuccessful.
Flat 31 B.
What the hell does it mean.
The only use of the letter B apart from as a consecutive form of address she can think of is 'Basement', but she is unsure whether this block of flats even has a basement, and she finds the idea of the blonde being kept underground to be highly unlikely for couple of reasons.
The location of the building would be wasted should Gold not be able to spy on his shop.
And the insurance claims the waitress had presented her with had been for damage to the roof and windows.
"Well... What other options do you have right now...?"
None.
No. none. But she isn't quite willing to accept that yet, and so makes her way down to the lower hallway in search for a door to the basement.
After five minutes of fruitless searching, she slams her fist against the wall angrily, concluding that the damn building doesn't appear to even have a lower level. Shaking her head while trying to keep the frustration that prickles in her eyes at bay, she slips from the building with gritted teeth.
Closing her eyes as the soothing chill of the winter wind ghosts across her face, she pauses for a moment, trying to pull herself together. A small noise to her left has her lashes flying open, and she takes in a sharp breath as she makes out the retreating form of a shadowed man hurrying off in the direction of Main Street. Frowning, she peers back towards the building and wonders where the curious figure must have come from. Following slowly, she finds herself distracted as she glances to her side and notes a crooked hatch of rotting wood lining the drainpipe of the building at a slant.
A wood shaft.
Ignoring the inner voice in her head that screams at her to step away from such a dirty place, she pulls back the unusually large slats of wood slowly and ducks into the darkness beneath.
"Emma...?"
Her heart beats furiously as she feels around the dirty brickwork for some form of light switch; telling herself over and over that it makes no sense that Emma would be down in a place like this.
She prays she's right.
She is desperate to find the Sheriff, but this place is dark and cold, and her mind conjures up despicable images of rats and roaches crawling over the bare concrete floor. She can't stand the thought of the younger woman being cooped up in a place like this.
"Ah!"
She retracts her wandering hand fearfully as something ghosts against her flesh, before letting out a nervous laugh when she recognises it for what it is.
A pull cord.
Pulling at the flimsy cord with baited breath, she blinks as the small space is illuminated with dirty yellow light. Raising an eyebrow in surprise, she finds her mental image of the place to have been vastly fear-driven. The small cubby leads to a set of narrow stairs, which in turn lead to what she is astounded to find is a basement. The empty space has been kept scrupulously clean, despite a damp chill to the air, and is sparsely littered with a collection of neatly labelled boxes and forlorn trunks. Freezing as her gaze falls upon a narrow white door which lines the far wall, Regina closes her eyes, willing herself to just go on that little bit further.
Making her way nervously over, she pulls open the door and finds herself faced with another narrow staircase. Leaning against the wall, she holds her breath and counts to ten, banishing the fear that courses through her blood.
"Emma?!"
Gold looks on, horrified, as the Sheriff seizes fitfully before his eyes. Hurrying over, he reaches out for her nervously, completely unsure how such a situation should be handled.
"Hey! Hey! No! Come on! Don't do this!"
The blonde feels a weak relief at his muttering in that she has managed to pull off her thrashing convincingly.
And now for the money shot.
She keeps her broken shaking going just a little longer as cold fingers bury themselves cruelly into the smooth flesh of her arms in an attempt to hold her still, before freezing rigidly and then relaxing with a low exhalation of breath.
She doesn't take another in.
Lying impossibly still, she forbids her chest from rising back up, and keeps her limbs macabrely limp.
"Sheriff?... Emma?!"
Gold shouts, shaking her as though she were a rag doll, and she makes a mental note to add it to the list of reasons she's doing this. Refusing to react to his rough ministrations, she waits for the inevitable, and feels a deep wave of relief as the pawnbroker finally leans over beside her- resting his cane against the bed- and bends down to check her pulse while dropping his head to her chest.
Moving with vicious speed, the blonde crashes up against his forehead with her own, sending the little man stumbling backwards in surprise; his right eye squinting shut as warm blood trickles down his face from a split to his brow.
"What are you-"
But she cuts him off.
She has little command over her hands, and so simply throws her body against his; sending them both sprawling in a painful heap on the floor. She is high on adrenalin though, and despite her current state, she is naturally athletic and this now plays in her favor as she had gambled it would. Scrambling up from the floor, she kicks at him ruthlessly, paying no notice to the pained pleading he chokes up at her, before honing in her aim and plunging him into darkness with a swift blow to the head. In her anger she reaches for the cane that rests beside the bed, but her fingers refuse to grip at the slender black wood as firmly as she's like, so she simply spits at the unconscious body of the pawnbroker as she stands over him trying to get her breath back.
She is vaguely aware that she has torn some of the sutures in her wrists as warm blood trickles lazily down her left arm from beneath her bandages but she finds she doesn't really give much of a fuck.
"Fucking asshole."
Her rage is quickly dampened by fear, as down below she makes out the faint click of the door opening and closing.
No. No, that's not fair. Not yet. I won one. I'm supposed to get away. That's not fair!
She holds no illusion that she is in a fit state to take on the madman. With Gold, it had been a case of tricking him. With Jefferson, she stands no chance of beating him in a fair fight. Eyes wide and breath ragged, she shakes her head in childish refusal to accept her situation; tears of frustration spilling out onto her cheeks.
"Fuck..."
She reacts belatedly, casting a glance down at the bed before sprinting shakily into the bathroom and silently closing the door. She is immediately glad she hadn't been foolish enough to crawl beneath the bed, knowing full well that with the way her head is currently swimming blackly, she would never have been able to scramble free once found.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit..."
Regina steps into the silent apartment nervously. The place is small and ill-kept; the walls peeling paint and the furniture shabby. She doubts Gold uses it for much. Moving forward slowly, she gasps as her dark eyes fall upon the prone silhouette of the doctor as he slumbers on the sofa. The dirty rag in his mouth and its twin curled around his wrists leave her doubting that Whale poses her any threat, but also serve to feed her fear of the pawnbroker ten-fold.
Slipping through the small room towards what she guesses to be the bedroom, she stills her breathing nervously and pushes the door gently open, her eyes flashing in apprehension.
"What?!..."
It is barely a whisper, but it sounds horrifically loud to her own ears. Clamping her hand swiftly over her mouth, she stares down at the limp body of the pawnbroker in shock. Gold's brow sports a scarlet smear of blood, but other than his frail, floor-bound state, he seems otherwise unharmed.
Which leaves her struggling to control her fear as her gaze falls to the bloodied sheets that lay strewn upon the bed.
"Emma?"
She mouths silently, willing herself to blink the maroon stains to dirty sheets away as there seems to be an impossible amount of red glaring back at her. Shaking her head, she struggles not to panic- struggles to keep her thoughts sane- as she tries to comprehend the scene before her.
Gold lies unconscious and beaten.
The doctor lies captive.
So where is the blonde?
Jumping as she hears the telling click of the door, she hurries stealthily over to the window only to find it nailed shut. Turning back towards the bedroom door, she swallows as she stands with her back against the wall.
"...Emma?"
Her croaked whisper is quiet; laced with childish hope.
The heavy footsteps that sound from the other room have her heat sinking in her chest. The Sheriff is hardly one to move with exceptional grace, but there is no way a woman of a hundred and twenty odd pounds could be making that noise, boots or no boots.
As the owner of the footsteps comes progressively closer, she slips her hand into her coat pocket and shakily pulls out her gun, her lips forming a nervous, bloodless line.
Jefferson glances disinterestedly at the doctor slumbering on the sofa. He is unsure just how potent the tea force-fed to Whale had been, simply because he hadn't taken the time to measure the ingredients out. With Emma, it had been a meticulous task; knowing that should he get it wrong and cause her any sort of harm or adverse affects, Gold would be on his tail. With the young man on the sofa... Who really gives a fuck?
The small paper bag he carries from the all night convenience store rustles quietly against his chest as he moves to pull his coat off before making his way over to the bedroom.
"Hey, Emma, I didn't know if you liked apple juice or grape so I got you orange instead. I-"
His words trail off as he takes in the scene before him, eyes flashing down to Gold before honing in on the brunette with a frown of confusion which she matches as she trains her gun to his chest.
"...You...?"
Emma grits her teeth in frustration as she searches the medicine cabinet desperately, coming up empty handed. She's not sure what in the hell she's actually looking for, but she guesses she'd feel a whole lot better about her current predicament should she be holding a razor blade than not.
Her heartbeat is loud in her ears and she wishes it would shut the hell up because she's having a hard time concentrating on the noises coming from beyond the door; confused by what had sounded like the door opening and closing yet again.
Imagining things, Swan, you're going nuts. Just hold your shit together a little longer and things will all be just peachy. The fucker will open the door and you'll... You'll... Fuck knows. Floss him to death. Drown him with mouthwash...
Yeah... You're fucking dead.
"No. He's not getting me that easy."
She mutters fiercely; negating to take the thought any further as she knows full well she hasn't got a plan.
Stilling as she hears heavy footsteps take off in the direction of the bedroom, she closes her eyes; waiting for the aftermath of the madman's discovery.
"...You...?"
Green eyes flash open as she would recognise the low voice that comes from the other room anywhere. Clutching onto the sink as her knees buckle beneath her, she forces her body to behave and wrestles with the lock on the door.
"...You?..."
Regina's voice is raw with disbelief, unable to comprehend just how twisted this whole thing seems to have become. First Whale, now Jefferson?!
The hatter nods, dropping his bag of candy bars and juice boxes to the floor, as he grins manically down the barrel of the Mayor's gun. With one last flickering glance towards Gold, he steps forwards towards the brunette purposefully, his keen eyes glistening as he wonders just how long it will take for the stupid bitch to realise she still has the safety on in her fear.
Amateur.
Regarding the madman with wide eyes, the Mayor wills her voice to remain assertive.
"Where's Emma?"
The Hatter glances to the bed disinterestedly as he carries on moving leisurely towards the brunette, smirking as she pushes herself firmly up against the wall.
"Gone? See for yourself..."
He points vaguely over to the bed where the Mayor notes with growing alarm the twin silver cuffs that hang empty from the posts.
"Tell me!"
"Or you'll what? You'll shoot me?"
He runs at her without warning and she pulls the trigger on instinct, eyes flashing with fear when nothing happens. Dropping the gun with a cry of rage, she yelps as Jefferson closes in on her; dodging past him by sheer luck as she ducks beneath his arm and sprints for the door.
"Oh, I don't think so..."
The tone of his voice is enough to still her in her tracks, and when she turns slowly to face him, she knows before she sees it that he has found possession of the gun she so foolishly allowed to slip from her grasp.
"Jefferson... Let's talk about this... I... I can help you.. I can help you with your daughter, with Grace. I-"
"Shut up! You had your chance! There isn't a single reason I shouldn't kill you where you stand! You left me to rot! You left my daughter without a father!"
"It doesn't matter... Don't you see... If you kill me now... You'll never see her again... She will never know who you are..."
"You see... That's where you're wrong..."
Jefferson shakes his head, laughing pityingly as he regards the dark woman with twinkling eyes. She is wrong. Gold may have warned him about killing the Mayor due to his own unsettled deal with the troublesome little blonde, but Gold is currently lying flat on his back with his head in the clouds.
Feisty little princess. All the more fun.
Gold's concerns are exactly that. But he is Jefferson, the Hatter, completely mad if some are to be believed, and he couldn't give a shit about some deal made with the Sheriff. If he kills the brunette, the Queen dies. If he shoots the pawnbroker, the Dark One vanishes, at least for a while. Then, all he needs to do is hunt down the Saviour- and he doubts it'll be too hard to find a wounded woman staggering around town in her underwear- and blow her fucking brains out.
Then Grace will be his.
Forever.
"No... I'm not wrong. You need me!"
"No. I don't."
The gun goes off and the brunette gives out a cry as she falls to the hardwood floor.
It takes her a split second to realise that it is not pain that courses through her, but surprise, and she struggles fitfully to pull herself from the irritable weight that pins her to the floor.
Her endeavors are thwarted however, when pale hands hold her firmly in place, the bony limbs digging into her ribs and side painfully moving to lie flush on top of her as she remains sprawled on the floor, her vision suddenly obscured by a veil of dirty golden curls.
A second gunshot echoes through the room, and she screams as this one sounds much closer than the first.
And then a moment's silence, broken only by the heavy thud of flesh on wood.
She buries her face into the crook of her elbow as harsh breath whispers against her cheek.
"Are you okay?"
"...Emma?"
The Sheriff rolls off of her slowly, letting the gun she holds fall from her shaking fingers weakly with a sniff.
"I found it in his jacket... I'm sorry I took so long... I-"
"-Emma?!"
The blonde lets out a low yelp as the Mayor pulls her into a desperate embrace. She opens her mouth to tell the brunette to chill out but shocks herself when all that comes out is a harsh sobbing, and she buries her face into the darker woman's neck.
"Oh my god... Oh my god..."
Regina mutters as she runs her fingers gently over the pale skin of the Sheriff's back, not caring that her own tears fall freely to catch in the younger woman's messy tresses.
"Are you hurt?"
She sniffs as she speaks, but before she can give Emma time to answer, her eyes fall upon the crude bandages lining skinny wrists and she shakes her head furiously. Pushing the blonde away so that she can inspect her properly, her mouth opens as she surveys dirty, skinny limbs, unhealthily pale flesh and a few rogue smears of blood that dapple exposed ribs and thighs.
"... Emma..."
The Sheriff shakes her head, clumsily wiping her cheeks clean of salted tears as she struggles to get herself under control.
"You... You came to find me..."
"Of course I did!"
"Y-you... You came... For m-me..."
Regina sighs as the blonde tries to save face and stop her breath from coming out in sobbing gasps and pulls the younger woman gently back into her as pale arms wrap themselves around her neck.
"Of course I came for you... I love you..."
"I... I..."
The brunette closes her eyes as tear-salted lips find hers with shaky desperation, and fresh moisture cloaks her lashes.
"I love you too."
It is a whisper, barely audible, but for the Mayor it's enough and she smiles against the younger woman's parted lips, stroking her hand gently through tangled curls. A curious sensation of heat flashes through her without warning, and she frowns as she wonders if this is what love truly feels like.
Eventually, Emma pulls back, her face pale, but her eyes bright and her smile sincere.
"What... What do we do now?"
Glancing over at the men that lie sprawled on the floor, Regina frowns; inwardly complimenting the blonde on her brilliant question.
"Well, I suppose you're the Sheriff... It's up to you.. But if you're open to suggestions, I propose we use those cuffs there on Gold until you make a decision..."
"...Yeah..."
Regina moves over to the pawnbroker, inwardly wishing to tell the younger woman not to help as she lets her dark eyes linger on bandaged wrists, but she knows Emma too well to attempt such a form of reasoning. Instead, she merely helps the blonde as the paler woman clenches her jaw determinedly to hoist the little man onto blood-streaked sheets; watching warily as Emma fiddles the crude silver bracelets shut with a silent sense of purpose.
"What..."
Both women glance up sharply at the voice from the doorway, each moving just a little as though to protect the other.
Whale stares at them in disbelief, the rag from his mouth held between his bound hands as he looks from the Sheriff to the Mayor.
"You..."
Blue eyes bore into the brunette, the emotion behind them unsettled and knowing.
Glaring back fiercely, Regina's eyes widen as she realizes it is not disconcertion that shines within those periwinkle orbs, but recognition.