{This one does jump around a bit more than the previous chapters – starting back in the Enchanted Forest before Regina's curse is cast – before coming back to the present to show what was happening with the others while Emma and Killian faced off with Cora and Regina. It was interesting to me to work with some different characters in this one as well; I hope you will find that I did them justice.}
chapter four ~ a fragile moment's peace
Some 28 years ago in the Enchanted Forest
In the horrible, stark emptiness of her high tower cell, breaking the maddening silence that was most often her only companion, Belle French flinched in surprise at the echoing sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs up to her prison. She did not know how many flights above the ground in the Evil Queen's fortress she was; it hardly seemed to matter as Belle had begun to fear she might never make her way back down again, nor see anymore of the outside world - the one she had longed to travel and adventure in - than could be glimpsed from the high, barred windows of her cell.
The footsteps paused outside her door before she then heard the clank of metal as someone began to slide the bolt before it could swing outward to admit him. She steeled herself, squaring her thin shoulders, made even more delicate by the pittance of unappetizing food Regina allotted her, clenching her small fists and watching warily. There was never any certainty which guard, which of the hideous Black Knights, would enter with her morning and evening meal, or simply to check on her. No knowing whether they would jeer and taunt, simply do their business and leave, or perchance even move to harm her further. In truth, the loss of her freedom and the slow dying of her hope, the lack of mental stimulation or company, were the worst punishments of her captivity, but it made Belle no less on her guard - never sure what might be coming next.
However, her bearing relaxed slightly upon seeing the figure who slipped through the doorway and closed the portal quickly behind him. Though dressed in the garb of Regina's guards, her visitor had already removed the unnerving, seemingly-faceless helmet to reveal a riot of honey-colored curls atop his head and the kind, soulful eyes full of regret meeting her own. This particular guard with his gentle manner and soft, lilting voice was the one Belle hoped for whenever her door was opened. True, one of the Black Knights he might be, but not by choice or from any cruelty or thirst for power. This man - once a huntsman living wild with a wolf his only companion in the open forest - was as much a prisoner as she. He had shared his story with her long ago, as she had shared her own with him. Once, many years past, the man before her had spared the life of their outlaw princess Snow White, and for that merciful action he had paid dearly. Regina had taken his heart and held him here amid these halls and chambers far from his beloved woods and glens. He could not flee her grasp however he might wish it, but in moments such as these, when she was not making her whims or orders directly known, his true nature showed through.
Belle believed that she might have gone truly insane by now in her isolation if not for stolen conversations with this brave, compassionate man - the only time she could gain any news, any companionship and joy, at all.
"How are you, Belle?" he whispered, the words tripping in his warm, thick brogue with gentle care for her well-being as he held out the questionable looking stew and murky water rationed for her evening meal.
"As well as ever, I suppose," she answered mildly, as always, a bit afraid that they might be overheard, that her sole advocate might have been suspected, followed, and that their conversation overheard might see him punished for his secreted bits of kindness to her, the rogue few moments of cheer she could look for, taken from her.
"Nay Lass, worry not," he grinned boyishly, small and fleeting but infinitely endearing. "I took care and was not followed."
Belle ducked her head, shaking it with a chuckle at how well he had read her thoughts and known what worried her. "Very well, I'll take your word for it," she demurred.
Her friend stepped closer - not crowding her, never making her feel threatened or more trapped as his compatriots did - and held out one more offering, hidden until now, wrapped in clean, white cloth. "Here," he urged, waiting until she took it in her own hand. "I brought you something."
Belle's eyes went wide as her fingers closed around the morsel, discovering it to be soft and warm. Unwrapping it revealed a piece of fresh baked bread, butter mouth-wateringly melted into it nooks and crannies. Looking back up at him gratefully, she stammered over her stunned query, "How did you?... Why?"
He shrugged carelessly, blushing slightly at her pleased reaction and genuinely bashful at the emotion a simple bit of his own much more appealing supper had caused. "Twas nothing," he shrugged, waving away any further question or concern over it. "You should have something actually pleasant to eat when I can manage it."
Grasping that he didn't want praise, and in fact sensing that it somehow made him almost uneasy, Belle merely nodded, though a smile peeked out for him all the same. "Thank you," she offered simply, needing him to know that his risk did mean something to her at least.
A bell tolled somewhere below, and Belle read his unease clearly as every line of his body tightened to wary attention. "I must go," he murmured, stepping back quickly. Then he paused, reaching inside of his uniform to pull out an extra gift. "And here, take this as well," he glanced over his shoulder, eyes anxious and guarded, but hopeful too. "Just don't let it be found on you."
A small gasp of excitement escaped her when the sight of deep burgundy binding and ornate gold lettering on an actual book met her eyes. It had been far too long since she had been afforded her most treasured past time, and she took the tome from him with reverence, gathering it close to her chest.
"Until next time," he bid her in farewell. And as swiftly as he had appeared, her rebel knight and sole ally was gone…
Storybrooke Hospital basement, present day
"Graham!" Ruby hissed, her whisper persistent and not nearly quiet enough for her foster brother's liking. "Where are we going? This is the hospital basement. It's just storage, isn't it?"
Graham shook his head resolutely, pausing at the foot of the stairs they had just descended and wishing they could remain in the darkened stairwell rather than step out into the brightly lit hall beyond. His mouth pressed into a thin, hard line, and he held up a hand to stay Ruby's questions, listening intently to determine if they had been detected or followed.
When no such hints came, he turned to his sister and tried to explain as much as he could quickly and keep them moving forward. "I'm not so sure, Rue," he stated under his breath, the teenage shortening of her name only he had ever used warming her heart slightly even in their cold and dreary surroundings. She couldn't understand how she hadn't missed him all these years; her sibling by nature and by species - by heart if not by blood. The only possible reason she could come up with was that she had been missing herself as well, unaware of her own being, much less the people she belonged with and cared for most. "It's a hunch, mind you, but Regina seemed to come down here more often than necessary - or at least I thought so from what I can recall. Something always distracted me, took my mind elsewhere when I would start to look into it... Before…" He swallowed reflexively, glancing down at his hands clenching and unclenching anxiously at his sides, but then pushed forward. "But there's staff down here as well. I've seen them coming and going. And why would all the way down here need key-in entry locks?"
Ruby paused his words when they became faster and more agitated as he continued, by reaching out to take his hand in hers and clasping it tightly, the same way she had when she'd pulled the scrawny, dirt-smudged younger version of him home with her to Granny to be fed and fussed over all those years ago. "Hey, hey, Graham...it's okay," she blurted in an equally intense, hoarse whisper. "I believe you, okay? Let's check it out. I'm right behind you."
He gave her a tight but grateful half-smile and pushed through the heavy swinging door that led into what looked like a gloomy, dim version of the corresponding space above. If Graham hadn't known better, it could almost seem as though they had stumbled into the Evil Queen's dungeon back in their home realm. The empty hopelessness of the corridor that stretched out before them evoked that strong a reaction, making Graham wish he hadn't brought Ruby along at all - or that he could still send her back and she would actually go. A shudder ran through him involuntarily as he made himself put one foot in front of the other, despite the repressed memories surfacing. There was no other way now but forward.
Moving onward, it was clear that while this basement level might be sterile, blank, and eerily quiet, it wasn't empty. There were doors on both sides all the way down the hall they'd entered, along with first initial, last name labeled placards on nearly every door. They were heavy, windowless iron, with only a strange slot in them at roughly eye level, but something held Graham back from peering through each one. He knew all too well it was dread at what he might see.
"These can't be patient rooms all the way down here, right?" Ruby asked, her voice trembling with concern. It might have sounded shaky to someone who didn't know her well, but Graham could already sense the anger beneath her immediate worry. "Is there even anyone on call? It's like they've been hidden away and - and - just forgotten," she continued aghast, her mouth quivering with fervent emotion at the very idea.
"That's exactly what happened," he answered grimly, hating that he'd known it was true as soon as he had seen the doors with their vague, nondescript nameplates. Anger at himself grew at the guilt of knowing he'd had a sense something wasn't right but never fully explored it. In doing so, he had allowed these people to be locked away for far too long. "They're people she needed rid of," he spat, not even wanting say Regina's name just then, "or that she needed to have under her control once they became useful to her. These people are probably those who were prisoners back in her castle in our land. Rumplestiltskin's maid was certainly one of them - so she… Belle was her name… must be behind one of these doors. It's the Queen's real world, no magic version of a dungeon; a hidden asylum with no treatment and no escape."
Ruby's wide dark eyes pooled with unshed tears at such needless cruelty and pain, even as her full lips pressed together tightly with determined resolve. Graham knew she was just as determined as he that Belle would be leaving here as soon as they found her, as would everyone else in this cursed hall. And people thought his kind were the monsters! Wolves - neither natural nor Were - would never torment other living things, even their prey, for sheer joy in the suffering or simply because they could.
Shaking his head of such sickening contemplation - it never led anywhere he was ready to dwell - he pressed on, nodding to Ruby that they were indeed freeing these poor souls, but that he had a plan, so that she wouldn't simply turn and tear the place apart, possibly hurting herself and terrifying those they aimed to save in the process. His sister was fiery, impulsive - and he loved her for it- but right now there was too much at stake, her safety included. It was but another minute before they reached the end of the corridor where it opened out slightly into a nook which passed as some macabre version of a nurse's station or reception desk.
The space was deserted; luckily for them, though it again spoke to the lack of basic care for human dignity. Had the curse broken and the people trapped within these walls simply been left behind when their captors abandoned their posts? If so, it spoke to their Mayor's twisted ability to select followers with even fewer scruples than herself to carry out her bidding.
Once again, with grim determination Graham plowed forward, unable to stop; this reckoning had been more than long enough in coming. Pulling out the middle drawer of the large desk shoved into a corner of the scant open space, he rifled around quickly, until moments later emerging victorious with two sets of keys clenched in his fist. Handing one to Ruby, he motioned her forward and to the right with a brusque, "You take this side, and I'll get the other. Unlock every door and tell them they're free, to go up the stairs and out to find their families and loved ones. Unless they aren't able or well, just have them get as far away from here as possible, at least for now…. They've already lost too much time." He looked down once more, unable to meet her knowing, sympathetic gaze, until Ruby reached forward and twined her fingers with his, pressing their clasped hands to her chest.
He looked up slowly, knowing she wouldn't move on until he met her eyes. Ruby's voice was firm, measured; her knowing face studying his shamed one. "Listen to me, Graham," she ordered seriously. "This is not your fault."
He nodded half heartedly, not at all convinced, but she wasn't finished.
Shaking her head, his sister pressed on, a solemn vow in her words that would not be doubted or turned away. "I'm serious, okay? You might not have been in a physical cell, but you were every bit as trapped. I don't need to know everything to see how badly you were wounded too. But, you survived… and now you're strong enough to free them. We will make this right."
She turned quickly once he had given her a nod of more certainty, her long, red-streaked hair whipping in an arc behind her as she did, and moved hurriedly to the first door on her side, quickly inserting the key and pulling the barrier open. The face of a grateful elderly gentleman creased into an overwhelmed smile as he stepped from captivity at last. Ruby quickly explained, gave him directions, and ushered him along as she moved to the next.
Graham blinked back the overwhelmed film of emotional tears behind his eyelids and shook his head free of stunned observation where he stood. Moving along the passageway as swiftly and quietly as possible, he saw both unknown faces and painfully familiar ones as each metal panel was swung free and yet one more sufferer stepped forth, at last escaping the waking nightmare that had swallowed and stolen their lives. He felt a weight he had not even been fully aware of carrying lift from his shoulders with each new release; it was one small strike back against all that they had suffered, and fragments of his own pain were briefly alleviated too as they made some sort of dent in the many wrongs done.
However, be all that as it might, there was a sinking feeling resting in his gut as Graham reached the final door and had still seen no sign of his former friend, the petite beauty who had granted him some solace and peace in that fortress of cruelty they'd both weathered long ago. Had he been wrong? Would Regina have hidden her somewhere else even more remote and secure? Worse still, had she somehow not been brought over to this land at all? His mind flinched away from that possibility; unwilling and unable to contemplate the gentle soul he had snuck warm bread and stories of adventure to having long since met her end wasting away to nothing or going completely mad.
His hand shook as he slid the strange skeleton key into the final lock, turned it with bated breath, and fought the impulse to close his eyes, to shield his own psyche from disappointment (or showing such to whatever poor soul he did release) if it was not her. Pushing aside the door, he stepped inside the tiny, bare room, feeling Ruby at his back anxiously, having already finished her similar task. His eyes rose to the cot fastened to the far wall, and then every muscle within him seemed to freeze. Matted, dull, and disheveled brown hair fell to the side of a pale, sunken face as the silent figure curled up on the bed lifted their curious stars to face the intruder head on.
But what nearly stopped his heart, was the rapid indrawn breath which met with the spark returned to the listless blue eyes that had first blinked into awareness. It was her, and she knew him. The tiniest of fragile smiles quavered on her delicate lips as she spoke in a small voice raspy with disuse. "Huntsman?" she asked in a tone of awed disbelief, wonderment and fear in equal measure seeming to warn that she had long since ceased to trust in her own eyes. "Is it really you?"
Graham merely nodded, the pooling tears finally too much and stealing down his cheeks in silent paths. "Yes, Belle, it's me. I've come to take you home."
Woods outside Storybrooke, present day
Killian had run until the shift took over; booted feet pounding on pavement, then loamy soil, then the needle-littered forest floor. It was as old and natural as breathing when the feel of the roughened ground beneath his feet became more direct and intense as he body stretched and lengthened, falling to all fours, feet and hands widening to furred paws as he galloped on with barely a hitch in his stride. Certainly there was still discomfort, but it was a familiar and fleeting one; hardly phasing him after the many times he had felt it before and the current sharp pain in his chest that was unrelated though must worse.
The wind now rushed through coarse, cobalt fur rather than rustling through the hair of his head alone or whipping against flushed cheeks. No longer did branches slap against human skin and break the surface in searing pain, but instead slipped along a sinuous, lean body much lower to the ground and with infinitely more grace than any human form could grant.
Though he hadn't lived in Storybrooke long, Killian had not hesitated to locate the nearest forest and find that it proved, as always, the best place for time to calm himself and regain equilibrium. As it had always been, there was solace beneath the overhanging shade of the trees and the gentle breeze rustling through the leaves and branches, seeming to whisper comfort in his pricked ears. The darkly furred apertures perched atop his head took in birdsong, the skittering of smaller creatures, and his own panting breaths around his pink tongue, lolling from the run he had just taken. Ears swiveling and straining, Killian took a moment to be certain nothing was out of the ordinary, that no sounds which did not belong met his keen lupine hearing, before he flopped down onto his haunches and eventually stretched out on his stomach against the rain-softened dirt of the forest floor, head propped on his front paws.
It was hard not to be hurt, despite knowing they meant it in his best interest that Emma and the others of his own kind seemed not to want or need him in their mission to thwart Gold's plans. He knew the old imp better than most after centuries of studying, plotting, and working to effect his downfall, and though he had not succeeded yet, could he not still prove a worthwhile resource? The entire reason for his being here at all was to see his Crocodile finally pay for Milah's untimely demise along with his own maiming.
A low, guttural whine escaped his throat as he craned his neck forward to lick at the pads of the somewhat twisted and immobile left front paw. The appendage was not rendered useless; certainly his running gait was aided in balance by its presence more than if it had been taken clean off. However, the paw did pain him if he went any sort of distance, or on rough terrain or at an accelerated speed. Not to mention that each twinge, every prick of pain, made him think of his lost love, and every time it ached anew, the anger and thirst for vengeance had swelled once more.
Until he had laid eyes on Emma Swan.
Watching her since his arrival in town - with Cora, he hated to admit, his wolf form letting out a canine snort of displeasure and shaking his ruffed head and neck as if to rid himself of the memory - he had been entranced. Both man and beast yearned to be near her, even if it were merely to trot at her hip like a protective, four legged shadow. Stepping into the little local diner that morning, he had nearly been stunned, blinded, by her beauty. The sunlight through the large front windows glancing off the fall of her golden hair and sending beaming light over her face, her laughing son, and the whole interior of the otherwise rather shabby and ordinary establishment. Up until then, Killian had been contenting himself with chance glimpses, watching her from afar and simply following unseen to see that such a lovely creature was safe and well. However, she had so transfixed him in her simple, happy outing with her boy that he'd had to get closer, to meet her at last.
Some facet of her being spoke to him, in a way he couldn't understand and had never experienced before. It calmed the anger, the pain, and the loneliness that had alternated in haunting him for most of his life. The tempting idea that he might not have to continue on alone for however long his werewolf makeup allowed beyond natural human years was one of the brightest spots to calm the storm in his soul and break through the darkness that he had ever yet encountered. Killian couldn't say that he completely understood, but he was not about to fight it or turn away either.
With those calming thoughts easing the turmoil his mind had been in - and the rush of adrenaline also coursing through his system between an arrest, an accusation, an attack, plus Emma's nearness and their argument - ebbing away, he found the wolf's grip on him lessening from the near takeover it had held on him when he'd fled for the cover and safety of the woods. As a born wolf, he could shift from his human and animal forms at will, though it was always closer to the surface on a full moon, and even if the whirlwind he had weathered in the past couple hours had made his four legged form seem more appealing, he wasn't trapped in it until morning as many people who knew only myths and legends might believe. Ambling back to the edge of the wooded tree line, Killian looked down the soft rise toward the town square he had vacated not so long ago, his tail switching from side to side at his hocks, even though he saw nothing yet. She was down there...Emma...and if a canine mouth could smile, he was, at the mere thought of seeing her again soon. His still rational mind shied away from what his instincts whispered...his mate...But he couldn't fight the instinct to go back to her, whether she wanted him there or not. Pulled like a magnet by his will, Killian had to return to his golden-haired deputy and offer his help once again. He couldn't stand the thought of her going up against the Dark One without every bit of strength on her side she could possess - and he couldn't stay away either, not even if he truly tried.
Mind made up, a short yelp of discomfort, followed by a groan and second rearranging of bone and sinew as he became man once more was not far behind. Long past the crushing press of embarrassment at his nakedness upon regaining human form, Killian merely set out with as much stealth as possible on the course he had already mapped out from the woods to his ship at the dock, which would take him by as few who might see him as possible. Usually, he stilled possessed the presence of mind to rid himself of clothing before the transformation into wolf began; however, the height of his emotion at the shift he had just completed - feeling shunned, rejected, and unneeded by those he had just found, who like himself and whom he had hoped to stand with, not to mention a beguiling woman he wanted to pull close and hold tightly to shield from a similar fate to what his Milah had suffered long ago - had made such forethought slip his mind until his clothes had already lain shredded among the roots and fallen leaves. Fortunately, the day now moved toward the dinner hour as he slipped closer to the quaint harbor and docks and his ship's berth where new clothing could be found, and fewer people were about to see him in his state of undress.
A thankful breath escaped Killian's lungs as he managed to sneak aboard the Jolly Roger and below her decks without any signs of human detection. Quickly and efficiently, he located new undergarments, jeans, dark patterned shirt, and spare jacket, and pulled them on with purposeful haste, now that his mind was made up and his course decided. His intention now to find Swan and her compatriots and once more offer his aid, making clear the benefit of experience he could lend to their mission, lent speed to his actions. He spared only a moment to ruefully run his good hand over the worn soft dark leather of the spare jacket he'd donned, making note to himself that he would need to be more careful with this one to avoid an unnecessary shopping trip - his wardrobe was not an unending supply.
He had already put one booted foot on the ladder back up to the deck, when he heard the thump of someone landing almost right over his head, followed by the rush of unknown, trespassing, footsteps hurrying across the wooden planks. Killian's hand clenched at his side, realizing his cutlass had been left above, not having much everyday use abroad in a modern-day, non-magical town, tucked in near his ship's wheel should need of it arrive. Nevertheless, he could handle whoever might come aboard his ship; he did after all have intimate knowledge of the vessel upon which he made his home, and the element of surprise on his side as well.
Mounting to the deck with swiftly agile and silent steps, Killian paused before lifting the hatch from his cabin and emerging topside, to gather himself for battle.
The sight which greeted his warily sharp eyes upon emerging once more in the fading evening shadows and setting sun made him ache to do anything but attack however. There, poised in mid-step, clearly startled and struck motionless by his abrupt re-emergence from below was none other than Emma Swan. Her green eyes were wide open and looking slightly guilty at being caught on his ship without any sort of welcome or permission. She seemed to know enough about either sailors or pirates to be aware that such trespass was not usually taken lightly.
Killian's tense posture immediately eased upon seeing that his ship was under no threat, and he stood straight once more, tucking his thumb into a belt loop with a much more relaxed and insouciant pose instead as she huffed and regained her normal stance as well, crossing her arms over her chest defensively for good measure, as if knowing she was caught, but unwilling to admit it.
"Well, well, Swan," he drawled, letting his tongue emerge to trace lightly across his lower lip and raising his eyebrow in devilish mischief. "To what do I owe the pleasure? You seemed quite glad to be rid of me earlier today."
"Please," Emma scoffed grumpily, rolling her eyes at him in a way that, though he had only known her a number of hours, Killian was coming to recognize as endearing habit. Sounding more disgruntled than she actually was, the fiery blonde before him pressed on before he could tease her further. "Look, you and I both know I jumped down your throat earlier, for no good reason other than that I was freaking out. So, I'm sorry - alright?"
Killian dropped the mocking bravado almost immediately upon sensing that she was indeed sincere beneath the agitation and discomfort she was outwardly exhibiting. "Aye," he agreed softly, dipping his head to catch her lowered eyes and holding them with his own, "of course, Lass. It's already forgotten."
"Thank you," she replied, her mumble soft and almost lost on the brisk air over the choppy waves. She stuffed her hands into the back pockets of her deliciously tight denim breeches, drawing Killian's hungry eyes to her long, supple legs, despite his most gentlemanly efforts.
He could tell she still had something else on her mind however, both by the way she shuffled awkwardly before him, even taking a hesitant step closer rather than beating a hasty retreat. "Was that all, Swan?" he finally queried, aiming to keep his voice gentle, soothing, in hopes of coaxing her further concerns from her rather than spooking his flighty Swan. It already seemed somehow as if he had summoned her here merely by wishing it, perhaps it would also prove that she had come to the same conclusion about facing Gold together as he had done.
Emma shook her head vigorously, wetting her own lips before rolling her shoulders and finally speaking up again. "You said before that you know Gold better than most, that you've studied him a long time, right?"
This time it was Killian who gave the brusque nod, before gesturing that she continue, not wanting to interrupt.
"Well, I was thinking - and Graham and Ruby agreed - that maybe you should come with us after all...if you're still willing. It couldn't hurt to have someone with us who really knows Gold's motivations, his strengths and weaknesses, his mannerisms. You might get a sense at least if he means to double cross us." Emma's speech dwindled and she bit her lip uncertainly; daring a glance back up to his face again hopefully.
Killian couldn't resist a small, playful smile as he closed the distance between them to no more than a single step. Impishly reaching out a finger to lightly brush her nose, he had to ask. "And you came to this realization all by yourself, did you Swan?" he prodded.
To this, she shrugged sheepishly, cracking an awkward half-smile herself before finally admitting, "No, not quite. It was Henry. He found your story in his book…" at Killian's puzzled look she waved her hands between them, shaking her head wearily. "Never mind, I'll explain that later. Anyway, he swore we needed to let you help. We couldn't succeed without you. And that...that you were meant to be a hero." She smiled with more warmth at that, finally closing the gap between them completely and reaching out to catch his stunted hand, the immobile one that most people tried to avoid or wouldn't even look at, with her own. "That we needed to give you the chance for your redemption."
Killian blinked, taken aback and profoundly affected to the touch to his neglected, maimed limb. He had to swallow hard, and his voice was still hoarse when he responded. "That sounds as though it was quite passionate, Swan."
She shrugged along with her half smile and certainly still looked more than a little embarrassed. "Yeah well, maybe it was," she allowed, "but he was right too." She tugged his hand lightly to emphasize her words. "I shouldn't have pushed you away, Killian. Will you come with us?"
Killian's smile warmed her fully from the inside out, even as she could see her openness and her invitation had done for him. Raising their joined hands to brush an errantly blown strand of her hair back over her shoulder, his eyes practically crackled at her with enthusiasm and joy. "Truth be told, Swan, I was just coming to demand you allow me to accompany you. So, needless to say, your wish is my command."
He waggled his brows at her for effect, and Emma pursed her lips consideringly, making Killian want to hungrily claim and kiss them until they both lost their breath, before she tossed back her saucy reply. "Good," she smirked, eyes full of a mischief all their own, "because I'm not done with you yet."