"...Emma?!"
"...No."
The blonde's response is little more than a choked growl, but this has nothing to do with her recent display of exertion.
The man on the floor seems not to hear her anyway- or, if he does, he takes no notice of her negatory answer- but simply stares up at the woman standing over him with a comically dropped jaw.
At least... It would be comical... If not for the situation.
Gathering himself and swallowing thickly, Bae pushes himself slowly to his feet, wincing; whether at the sharp bite of pain his knees offer up in protest, or at the hazy chaos of memories threatening to wash over him, he is unsure.
"Emma..."
She is older, and there is a gritty, 'hard' look to her once sunny features that sets him on edge, but it's her.
There's no question.
She did it.
The wooden man was right...
She broke the curse...
How else would she know your name?...That name...?
"Oh my... Oh my god! Emma! I... I thought... Shit..."
Words tumble haphazardly from his lips which seem suddenly very dry as emotion bests him in his internal battle for self composure, and he stumbles towards the blonde with his hands held out with the palms displayed up towards her curiously, causing green eyes to flash briefly down on the crimson smears that muddy the flesh there to match her own markings from their fall.
"I... It's really you! I... You... Emma..."
Garbled nonsense, and he supposes he plans to embrace her- at least, his body seems to be leading him into the act of doing so- but it is a clumsy move; the elements of his brain responsible for simple motor functions perhaps preoccupied with the insanity of his current predicament.
He is confused.
He is elated.
He is struck by a sudden feeling of fondness that seems to hurt in its intensity.
He is bewildered.
He is home.
"I can't believe it... It's you, it's really you! I thought I'd never see you again! I thought you-"
But his nonsensical serenade is cut short as his vision is suddenly impaired with curious white spots as a blinding pain shoots through the left side of his face; the Sheriff's knuckles catching the tender underside of his jaw and sending him staggering backwards into the rough brick of the buildings that play their backdrop.
"Em-"
But this time the pain is sharper- wetter- and he doesn't need a to be a doctor to know that the hideous crunching sound his nose makes as her palm thrusts upwards with cruel skill is the result of cartilage giving up the fight.
"Stop!"
He neither pleads, nor exudes anger; he is too overwhelmed with shock and confusion to offer the young woman that brings her knee up with a vicious jerk that threatens to have him spill his breakfast either of these more logical reactions.
A hard kick to the shins ignites pain, but carries less finesse than her previous methods of assault.
A furious push of bloodied hands against his chest speaks of rage, but no skill.
Dimly aware that this is his window to bring a halt to the blonde's venomous beating, he takes a hold of her upper arms and pushes her away clumsily, but with enough force to cause her to stumble slightly and offer a predatory flash of her teeth.
A similar glint in her eyes tells him she will not be so easily deterred.
She comes at him again and he pushes her back once more, this time without taking the time to strive for purchase, but simply throwing his own palms against her; catching her low in the stomach and causing her to let out a high whimper that juxtaposes the heavy swing of her fist to the side of his head.
"Stop!"
Yes! Stop! Oh god, stop!
He is entirely in agreement, but is momentarily confused as to whether the words come from his own lips.
"What the hell are you doing!?"
No... Not me.
No. A woman's voice. Some innocent bystander coming to his aid in this most peculiar and belated of lover's tiffs.
"Hey!"
Slim arms encased in expensive black wool circle the blonde's waist, and Bae opens his mouth to tell the pretty brunette keen on playing good samaritan that to do such a thing to Emma Swan is most certainly not a good idea.
"Emma!"
Wait... What? She knows her?
Rich silk from sultry velvet, and the young man bleeding against the wall frowns as, instead of coming to his rescue, the darker woman simply wrestles the frantic blonde behind her before baring down on him herself.
"What did you do to her!? What-"
"-What is going on?"
And this voice he does recognise, and it sends a shiver through him unlike any that he has felt since he was just a small boy.
Gold limps into view with his eyes glittering dangerously; taking in the snarling Queen, the trembling Sheriff and the bloodied young man that slouches defeated against age-cracked brickwork.
There are a great many years that have passed on between them, but he recognises his boy without a shadow of a doubt. Something in the way he stands, the way his mouth falls, the way he has yet to strike back against the insane little bitch whose hands carry blood that is not entirely her own.
"Bae..."
It is a whisper as he moves in closer towards his son, but when he comes level with the women that brought him here, he turns with a swiftness both startling and obscure given his seemingly infirm state.
"What have you done?!"
He spits at the blonde; his weathered face ruddy with terrible rage.
This was your plan? Your vengeance? Your way of making me pay for what I did to you back in that room?!
It surprises him- having honestly believed more from the Swan woman than such a low blow- but it is the only reason he can imagine she would have for her attack on the shocked brunet surveying the three of them with amounting horror.
"You foolish little girl!"
When he lifts his hand, Regina is quick to counteract whatever punishment he might mean to bestow on the younger woman, but he is wise in the ways of love-struck stupidity, and the hard thrust of power he sends out hits the Queen rather than the blonde; sending her sprawling onto the uneven cobbles with a surprised cry.
Emma snarls at him, making to hurry towards the darker woman to check on her wellbeing, before the pawnbroker intercepts her easily; moving with that curious grace once more to have her tripping slightly in an endeavour to dodge round him, and backing her up against the wall.
He is furious at what she has tried to pull, but regardless of his power, he has spent twenty-eight years enslaved within a body inept to do this particular form of bidding, and when he rounds on her to pay her her punishment, the hard grip and swipe of his cane seems entirely instinctual.
Time seems to take on a peculiar new meaning- becoming cruelly slow and each small movement lasting long enough to drink in and analyse- and the Sheriff's eyes widen fearfully before she brings a forearm across her face and shies back with her lashes clamped shut and jaw clenched in anticipation, as the hard shaft of the little man's cane catches the light of the hazy winter sun that does a poor job of penetrating the little alley in which they play out this hateful tableaux.
"No! Don't hurt her!"
Gold frowns as he brings down the polished wood at a peculiar angle due to his confusion at those words.
No. Not the words... The voice used to speak them...
For it is not the brunette that cries out- although she does scream at the blonde to 'get down' only a fraction of a second later from her own pained position on the floor- but his son's; and when he is pulled roughly back by the shoulders, he drops the cane in surprise.
The sound of wood clattering down on rain-washed cobbles seems to bring its listeners back to the world of reason.
Gold blinks down at the silver gleam of his fallen make-shift weapon.
Baelfire breathes heavily and removes his fingers from the scrawny bow of the pawnbroker's shoulders.
Regina lets out a shuddered breath and slowly pushes herself up into a seated position with a wince.
Emma slowly slides down the bricks behind her- her sweater pulling up and catching slightly on the uneven surface- her aching arm still covering her face; her wrist throbbing with black agony from where Gold's rage fell true, but she slowly realises she is otherwise unharmed.
This lucky fate is not immediately obvious to her onlookers, however.
The Queen crawls over fretfully; all grace and poise momentarily forgotten as her dress pants carry a large rip at the knee and her eyes are wide with shock.
It is the man who speaks, however.
"...Emma?"
She lowers her arm slowly, revealing features that are alarmingly pale and bloodless, but baring no injury, as she glances up at the man that speaks her name warily, before moving a little closer to Regina as her heart threatens to hammer straight out from within the confines of her chest.
The brunette reaches to check on the blonde's wrist, while the latter shakes her head irritably and taps away shaking fingers so that she might take a better look at the Queen's leg and asses the damage.
Bae watches on with dazed interest.
Gold watches on with a sudden disquiet... A disquiet he can't quite place his finger on until his son's utterance dawns on him.
Speaking in a hushed tone, his words sresonate between the four of them as though he had announced them through a megaphone; each of them freezing and taking in a shuddered breath.
"... You two know each other..."