A/N: As I mentioned in the summary, this is partially based on the Outlander books. Will it be exactly like them? No, absolutely not. The more I write, the more I realize it can't exactly follow that plot. But I decided to keep the name because a) there are two parts written that are strictly inspired by Diana's writing and b) if you like Outlander, then I like you, and hopefully you'll like this.
A missing persons case in New York City was far from uncommon; ask any bail bondsman (or person) that lives there. Or anywhere. Young girls run away from home. Dads go to the store for cigarettes and are never seen again. Housewives reach the end of their tether and take the grocery money and a taxi to the station. Parents leave their newborn on the side of the road, leaving no trace of their existence except for the discarded child. And eventually, most of these people are found. Whether it was crime or a way to escape, there's almost always an explanation for someone disappearing. Almost.
In a city the size of New York, it was easy to get lost. Maybe even easier to disappear- if one wanted to. Emma had spent her whole life lost: a lost girl with no parents, no home, and no way of knowing where her life was heading. There had been plenty of times she wanted to disappear. And there were times she had nearly succeeded as she ran away from a line of foster homes. But the thing about being lost for so long is that after a while, it's up to you if you want to be found. And when you disappear, there always seems to be someone trying to find you. Maybe that's one of the reasons why she tried to run away as a kid.
Emma didn't want to run away now. She hadn't wanted to run since Portland. In fact, she thought, twisting the ring on her finger, it was time to settle down.
An arm wrapped around her waist, distracting her from her admiration of the way the light hit the diamond.
"Whaddya think, babe?" Neal asked, resting his chin on her shoulder. She leaned her head against his forehead and gave a contented sigh.
"It's beautiful," Emma said, turning to give him a swift kiss to the temple. She leaned down and gave a low whistle, her eyes widening at the price tag behind the glass. "But a little outside our price range."
Neal hummed and his arm tightened around her for a moment before dropping away. He took hold of her left hand, giving the fourth finger a quick peck.
"No cost is too much for you," he said with a sweet smile. Then he leaned down and gave his own whistle. "Except for maybe this ring."
He laughed and Emma joined him. The salesman behind the counter gave them a polite smile, his hands locked together in front of him as he observed the couple.
"Perhaps I can direct your attention to some of our more affordable options," he said. His name tag faintly said 'Vince' in a scratched-out gold font. Emma pouted as he waved his hand towards another case full of diamonds and gemstones with noticeably lower prices.
"I guess…" Emma drawled, reluctantly removing the ring. Neal stopped her.
"Hold on. This is the first one I've seen you actually excited about," he said. Frowning, he considered the options before him.
"Well, we do offer excellent credit," Vince said. "We can discuss payment options?"
"Maybe," Neal said, still looking thoughtful. "Or maybe…"
Letting go of Emma's hand, he took off his watch, weighing it in his palm before offering it to the salesman.
"My grandfather recently passed and left this for me. I haven't had the chance to get it valued, but maybe it's worth enough to help towards the cost?" he said. Emma gasped and grabbed hold of his arm.
"Neal, no! You can't sell your grandpa's watch! It's all you have left of him," she said, attempting to pull his arm away from the other man. Neal gently loosened her grip and again held out the watch for Vince to observe.
"I'll always have my memories of him. This is important too," he said, tapping her nose. "We're starting a life together. I want to give you the world. This is the least I can do." He turned back to Vince, who was staring intently at the watch in his hand.
"Well? Do you think it's enough to cover the ring?" Neal asked. Vince looked up with a slightly dazed expression.
"Why, yes. I believe it is," the salesman said, then smiled brightly. "Mr. and Mrs. Baelfire, I do believe congratulations are in order!"
"Baelfire? How the hell did you come up with that name?" Emma asked, fiddling with her seatbelt. They had managed to find a spot to park and had the windows up, despite the sweltering heat permeating the cramped space. Emma dabbed at a bead of sweat rolling between her breasts while Neal counted out the money (again) from the jewelry shop. He glanced up at her with a sheepish expression.
"I read it in a book somewhere. Thought it sounded kind of cool. No?"
"No. I like Cassidy a lot better," she said. He chuckled, stacking the bills and tapping them against the dashboard before placing them back in their envelope.
Stealing the watches back had been her idea. Their plans of settling in Tallahassee had been foiled by the wanted poster sporting Neal's picture, and he had nearly convinced her to go on without him as he fled to Canada. But she hadn't been willing to let him go. So, they agreed on her taking the watches from their hiding place at the train station and were slowly pawning off their prizes as they made their way across the country. The jewelry store had been his idea.
Neal opened up the glove compartment and slid the envelope back into its hiding place with the others.
"I think we have enough for a couple nights at a motel here in the city. I mean, we don't have to if you want to keep going towards the border, but it's New York," Neal said, sliding his arm behind the back of her headrest. "I thought it might be nice to stay here for a while. Sightsee and all that."
Emma laughed.
"You want to be tourists in the place we just sold a stolen Rolex?" she asked in disbelief, but grinning, nonetheless. He grinned back.
"It's New York City, baby," he said in his best Brooklyn accent. "You think we're the first scammers this place has seen? Get outta here."
Neal leaned in and captured a strand of her golden hair between two fingers, twirling the curl around.
"Come on. Bodegas, Central Park…bagels. The best damn pizza you'll ever eat. And no, Chicago doesn't count," he said, interrupting her before she could speak. She closed her mouth with a smirk. "I'll even buy you a 'I Heart New York' t-shirt. Really get the experience."
She rested her cheek against his hand and he immediately cupped it. He looked down at her with his warm brown eyes, only inches away. She had a hard time saying no to him. Always had. Probably always would.
"Well, as long as I get a t-shirt out of it," she said, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips. He returned it, the edges of his mouth curling up before she leaned back again. "But what are we going to do about this?" she asked, holding up her left hand.
The engagement ring still sat there prettily on her fourth finger, reflecting light across his face and the dashboard. He picked up her hand, twisting it back and forth to watch the diamonds sparkle. He rubbed his thumb across the stone almost reverently.
"I was thinking…maybe we keep this one," Neal said slowly, keeping his eyes downcast. "I was serious about wanting to start a life with you. In Canada, I want-" He finally looked up and met her gaze. "I want to give you everything you deserve. Including, if you want, a husband?"
There was a moment of silence while she tried to remember how to breathe. His expression was careful, if not more than a little nervous. Finally, after what seemed like centuries, she wrapped her arms around his neck and looked him directly in the eye. She gave a soft smile.
"How can I say no? It's New York City, baby."
The motel Neal had chosen was more than a little seedy, though they had admittedly faced worse on the road. The receptionist working the front desk had seemed less than enthusiastic about their appearance, and somewhat reluctantly handed over a set of keys before returning to her phone. As they made their way to the room, Emma noticed quite a few women and their, ahem, customers and involuntarily slid her hands into the pockets of her jacket, removing the ring from sight. Neal carried their one duffel bag with all their clothes, which now also sported their cash from the watches.
The room itself wasn't so bad if you ignored some of the more prominent stains. The walls and furniture looked as if they had been renovated back in the seventies, while the floors looked brand new. Emma tried not to think about what could have happened to make them replace only the carpet. She checked the mattress for bed bugs while Neal scoped out the rest of the place, pausing momentarily to fiddle with the small television sitting on the dresser. He settled on a showing of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves just as the princess began to sing a happy working song.
"Ugh, don't watch that," Emma groaned. Neal raised an eyebrow. "She's, like, the worst Disney princess. All she does is cook and clean for a house full of men and then dies. She's the modern woman's worst nightmare."
"A modern woman's nightmare?" Neal asked. He tossed the duffel onto a small chair in the corner and strolled over. His arms looped around her waist and he gave her an innocent look.
"So when you're my wife, you'll never cook for me?" He ran his hand up the back of her shirt.
"Does unwrapping a few pop tarts count as cooking?" she asked, her hands finding their way behind his neck.
"Absolutely," he breathed, leaning down. The dwarves began to sing 'Heigh Ho' in the movie before the connection went out altogether and the screen turned to static. Neither of them noticed.
Afterward, Emma rummaged through their shared bag for a fresh pair of jeans and a sweater. Neal continued lying in bed, the sheets haphazardly thrown across him as he rested back against the headboard. He watched her in amusement.
"Out of all the places to visit in New York City, you want to go to the library?" he asked incredulously. She pursed her lips.
"It's the fourth largest library in the world," she said, tugging on the jeans. "I've always wanted to visit. That and see a show on Broadway, but this one's free."
Neal snorted.
"I never took you for the singing type."
"You sure you don't want to come?"
"Nah, I'll let you explore on your own. I'd just hold you back."
Emma gave him a peck on the lips and turned to leave. He stopped her as she opened the door.
"Do I need to tell you to be careful?" he asked, sounding more amused than concerned.
"Am I ever not careful?" she replied. He shook his head with a grin and told her to call him when she was done.
Hailing a taxi seemed a lot easier than attempting to find another parking space, though Emma was still reluctant to hand over the cash. They were saving this money for a home once they were in Canada. Plus a few extra 'legal' fees that might arise as they created new lives. She tried not to think too much about how easily Neal let her go out on her own. Not that she needed an escort, but usually that meant he was planning something on his own. And that often led to wanted posters with his face on them.
No, surely he wouldn't do anything stupid enough to get him arrested. They had money now. Even a few leftover watches stashed away in a hidden compartment in the Bug floorboards. Life was good, or at least getting there. She tightened her jacket around her as the autumn wind picked up around her, and she raced up the steps of the library. Everything looked so regal; she felt extremely out of place. Especially as she stepped inside.
She gaped up at the soaring arches and impressive chandeliers. White marble decorated every inch of space, including the staircases leading to the upper floors. It was like stepping into a castle. Her steps echoed off the walls as she walked towards the front desk. She picked up a pamphlet and eyed the map there, along with the library's events. After a brief discussion, a librarian pointed her to a small group gathered near the entrance. Wide-eyed adults and children alike were taking in the elegance surrounding them just as she was. Emma joined them just as the tour guide set off.
Emma supposed that it was rather odd for her to be interested in the old building. She never really showed interest in libraries or books in general in her adult life. But there was something about this place that had always drawn her towards it, even when she was just a kid hearing about it in school. The tour was interesting if not a bit monotonous, as many historical tours turned out to be. By the time they had made it to the third floor, Emma was already feeling a bit antsy as she usually did when she stayed in the same place for too long. As the group continued onward, she lagged behind, effectively separating herself from the rest as they rounded a marble pillar. Sighing in relief, she retraced her steps to the previous room. There the murals sat amongst the marble and candelabras. Guests wandered past them, some staring at the paintings in awe while others moved on, already used to the grandeur. Emma peered up, taking in the Sistine Chapel-esque ceiling before turning her attention to the walls. The history of the recorded world. This was what she had been wanting to see. Men in robes and tunics posed with tablets and scrolls, while men and women cowered before them. At least, that's how Emma saw them. She much preferred the murals above the entrance doors that showed individuals and couples casually reading amidst nature. It reminded Emma of her in her youth when she would sneak away from the foster families and hide in the local parks beneath the trees. She'd normally have a picture book of some sort with her to pass the time. Even as she grew older, she'd bring either a book or notepad to write out her teenage thoughts. Though she couldn't say she had a happy childhood, nostalgia filled her as she wandered past the murals and towards the shelves.
It wasn't long before she was lost among the novels on either side of her. The air became musty as most libraries do. Emma wasn't sure what section she was in, only that the further she walked, the more withered the covers became. Soon, several glass cases interspersed with the other towering shelves, showcasing relics not meant to be touched by the public. Emma reached out and allowed her hand to trail the books along the shelf as she walked through the maze, each one giving a satisfying thump beneath her fingers. The lighting grew dim around her as she turned another corner, and she wondered for the first time what time it was. Surely Neal would be worried by now. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, only to find it dead. Odd. She could have sworn she'd charged it that morning. But it was old and probably failing, so she reinserted it in her pocket with a shrug and turned around to make her way back to the entrance. However, as she turned, she immediately realized how lost she had become. Were these bookcases really so mazelike? They hadn't seemed so before. Yet she had somehow wandered to a part of the library that no one else seemed to travel to. Not concerned just yet, she attempted to retrace her steps, only to find more of the same aging tomes surrounding her. Everything looked the same. As far she knew, she was passing the same shelves over and over.
With a frustrated noise at the back of her throat, Emma spun around and traveled the opposite direction. If this went on for much longer, she would break the number one rule in the library and shout for help. But before that could happen, something peculiar occurred. A faint buzzing began to nettle at Emma's inner ear. She rubbed at her ear, as if to dislodge the sound, but it did not cease. The more steps she took, the louder the buzzing became. Scrunching up her nose, Emma turned another corner, only to find a dead-end for the first time since she had started her journey among the stacks. It was as if a thousand little invisible bees were swarming the shelves and whistling past her head. At this point the sound was becoming painful and she covered her ears. But it was moot. The noise was coming from inside her. Rightfully panicking, Emma made to run away from the dead-end but stopped short.
She wasn't sure what drew her attention to it. Perhaps it was a stray beam of light that managed to slip through the other shelves and landed in that one section. Or maybe it was because the book was so large it protruded from the shelf, hanging slightly over the edge. But as soon as she saw it, she was entranced. She didn't even realize she was moving until she was right in front of the shelf. With a tentative finger, Emma reached out and stroked the aging leather. What was this thing? The buzzing grew so loud that it became its own white noise, blocking out any stray thought or sound that might have emerged, but Emma didn't mind. She was too focused on the book. With something like suspense mounting in her stomach, Emma picked up the massive storybook. Because that was what it was, she realized with surprise. A storybook full of fairy tales. She traced a finger over the gold lettering set into the leather. Once Upon a Time. Carefully, she opened the book to the middle and it fell open easily, as if it had been read frequently over the years. Emma squinted at the elegant type and painted illustration. Snow White? But it didn't look like the Disney version from earlier. No, this one showed a dark-haired woman holding a knife to the throat of what must have been the prince. Odd. Emma flipped through more pages, intrigued, before settling on another painted image. This showed a sparkling sea with the moon reflecting off its surface. A ship floated above the water, defying all logic. Feeling more drawn than ever, Emma gently touched the picture.
The world exploded around her.
Once, when she was five, Emma had fallen into the deep end of the swimming pool. She had wandered off on her own again and no one had been there as she slipped off the edge and sank quickly to the bottom. Her arms had flailed, and her legs had kicked desperately as she tried to propel herself up towards the surface. But it was all futile. She hit the stone floor of the pool and could do nothing but gaze at the distorted world around her. Bubbles and currents from her thrashing limbs surrounded her, and it wasn't long before water made its way past her lips and effectively choked off any other attempts at saving herself. Her vision began to darken at the edges. She lay at the bottom of the pool, staring up at the rippling surface light, and waited.
That's what it felt like as she went tumbling forward, her hand still positioned as if pressed against the book. The buzzing was excruciating, reverberating through her mind and cutting off any attempts at thoughts or feelings beyond panic or agony. The rest of her body writhed and twisted in whatever current had swept her off her feet. Her lungs quit working and everything became fuzzy. The world distorted around her and she couldn't tell which way was up or down. Soon, there was only darkness, and all Emma could do was wait to succumb to it as she sunk to the bottom.
There was no telling how much time had passed. The world slowly began to reveal itself around her, beginning with light shining down from above her, coloring the back of her eyelids orange. The buzzing was gone, replaced by the sounds of nature. Emma could feel every lump of dirt and blade of grass beneath her, prickling her skin. It didn't occur to Emma to be worried by these sensations. Not until, of course, the sound of gunfire rang through the air. Her eyes popped open and she sprang up. Or tried to at least. Woozy from whatever had happened to her, she sat back down abruptly. Moaning, she ducked her head between her knees and pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. There was a dull throbbing there, as if the bees had pounded against her skull. Nausea rolled in her empty stomach, and she was faintly glad that she had not eaten that morning. She stayed in that position until she was sure the world wouldn't crumble around her, then she raised her head again- more gently this time.
She was in a forest. Blinking in disbelief, Emma twisted her entire body to take in her surroundings. Yes, she was definitely outside. Where? She didn't know. But it certainly wasn't a library. Her left hand brushed against something beside her, and she jumped. It was only the book, closed and lying innocently next to her. She picked it up and desperately flipped through the pages again. Except they were all blank. She went through each one, looking for some sign of the calligraphy and painted pictures from before. But there was nothing. The cover slammed close. It still gleamed Once Upon a Time on the front. Emma stood up, tucking the book beneath her arm and brushing the dirt from her jeans. Looking around, Emma tried to make sense of things. She was in a forest. She had no idea how she had gotten there. The storybook was blank. She was lost.
Oddly enough, she felt calm. As if this were any other Tuesday. She had faced difficulties before. Everything was fine. Without another stuttered thought, she stepped forward. There was only one way to get out of this forest, and that was to move. She wove through the trees in one random direction, and probably would have continued her steady pace if it weren't for the second gunshot. She had completely forgotten about the sound that had woken her up. Or maybe it just hadn't fully registered. Either way, she fell to the ground and held the book over head as a makeshift shield. She waited, trembling. She could faintly hear what sounded like men shouting. When nothing else happened, Emma scrambled to her feet again and this time ran as fast as she could through the brush. Her heart galloped in her chest as she ran either away or towards the sound. There weren't any following shots, but she didn't want to risk being caught in one place. Wherever she was, it was officially dangerous.
She would just keep running until she either couldn't anymore, or she reached the edge of the trees. It seemed as good of a plan as any. But said plan was disrupted when her foot caught the edge of a root and she went tumbling to the ground. Her chin thumped painfully against the hardened dirt and the book slid out from her arms. Dazed from the fall, Emma barely registered the boots that emerged from the nearby brush, or the filthy hand that reached down and picked up the book.
"Interesting garb you have on there, lass," a gravelly voice said above her. She squinted up at the man towering over her. The sun was peeking through the canopy of trees ahead, so she mainly saw his silhouette. What she could make out was a tall figure in a long, red coat, leather boots, long black hair, and some sort of three-pointed hat. What was it called? Tricorn? She vaguely remembered learning the name of it several years ago in the one school theater class she took.
The man leaned down enough that she could finally see his bearded face, covered in dirt and grime just as the rest of him was. Emma quickly sat up and attempted to scramble away. Her chin and jaw ached from the fall, which was the main reason she finally realized she wasn't asleep. Because otherwise, she would have been sure this was a dream. Everything about this was unreal. The book, the library, somehow teleporting to the middle of a forest. And the man standing before her was clearly dressed as a pirate.
"What's a pretty young thing like you doing out here all by yourself?" he asked in that accented voice, his words slurring. She didn't answer him; instead stared wide-eyed up at him. His grin revealed yellowed and rotting teeth, no doubt from excessive use of tobacco and alcohol. If this was a costume, it was a very good one. Scent and all. "Cat got your tongue, lass?"
"Where am I?" Emma finally asked. He raised a grungy brow.
"A bit confused, are we? Why, you're in the Enchanted Forest, darling," he said, taking a step forward. She slowly got to her feet again, not taking her eyes off of him. "Did you have a fall, lass? A bit of a bump to the noggin?" His tone sounded anything but concerned. More amused than anything. She was briefly reminded of Neal. Her eyes darted to the book in his hands.
"Can I have my book back?" she asked, then added "please" as an afterthought. The pirate seemed to register what he was holding for the first time and looked more carefully at the aging leather. He examined it, running a finger over the gold letters just as she had, then opened it and flipped through the blank pages. He hummed as he flipped back through, feigning interest until something caught his eye. For a moment he just stared at the page. Curious, Emma tried to glance at what he was looking at. Impossible. The book had been blank just seconds ago. And now, one page out of hundreds sported an illustration and brief elegant handwriting. Even from her viewpoint she could see the small portrait was of the pirate standing before her.
The man looked up from the page, suspicion showing in his eyes for the first time, replacing any amusement.
"Sorceress," he said simply. What? She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. He tilted his head at her reaction. "No? Then why would you be in possession of such an item?"
"I don't-" she began, but he cut her off.
"'And there in the afternoon light stood the tall figure of the most cutthroat pirate to ever hoist a sail. Captain Black Beard,'" he read from the book. Black Beard gave her a cutting smile. "I must say I'm flattered by such a description."
"That's- how?" Emma said in a daze. She reached out to grab it back from him but he snatched it back, holding it out of reach as he tutted at her.
"Now now. We must learn to share," Black Beard said in a mocking tone. His eyes trailed the length of her, up and down. As if he were looking for something. "You don't look like a witch."
"That's because I'm not," she said heatedly. He merely smirked.
"But I shan't take any more risks when it comes to your kind," he said. Emma briefly wondered if he was talking about witches or women in general before he suddenly pounced. She just barely dodged his reaching hands before running away. He shouted after her and she heard the leaves and debris rustle as he chased her. She just ran faster. It was regrettable leaving behind the book- her one connection to the library- but her fight or flight response was telling her to get the hell out of there.
Unfortunately, she forgot about the gun again.