chapter six ~ where paths diverge
It was a rare and foreign pleasure to idly hold hands with someone she felt a true affection for, and warmth flooded Emma from where their joined fingers swung between she and Killian, occasionally brushing against her hips or his, the lingering sparks shooting out to the rest of her body. The luxury of it wasn't lost on her, nor did she want to let go, even as they stepped into the station – even as her cheeks flushed at the prospect of so openly showing their connection to her boss and anyone else who might be present within those walls.
As if sensing her reluctance to let go, but also her reserve, Killian gave her hand a gentle squeeze with his own before discreetly releasing her. Emma wasn't certain just how he understood, how he could read her so remarkably well, but as he reached ahead to hold the door for her and then leaned in close to whisper in her ear, the heat of his breath tickled her chin in a way she couldn't ignore, her heartbeat stuttered and caused her to trip clumsily over the strip of raised linoleum that stuck up unevenly in the entryway. "I'll be right beside you," he murmured lowly, and then stood straight again, though he remained near enough to her that she felt his body heat comfortingly at her side. The man must be psychic, or else his heightened animal senses allowed him to be in tune with the part of her that wanted to bask in the fiery attraction they'd just found, but also the part of her which instinctively pulled back, not wanting to dive too hastily, or trust too easily – not again. And perhaps most of all, the little girl within who had never had anything or anyone to hold close and call her own, who somehow wanted this good thing between them, just for a bit, to be theirs alone.
Turning her head just slightly to smile at him, Emma mouthed a silent "thank you", both for the support, knowing just what she needed and giving it, and for easily understanding her, which was not an experience she had encountered often in her life to that point. As they entered the large, open main room of the station, they found Graham in the space alone, clearly having been pacing in either agitation or excess nervous energy, she wasn't sure which. He had also been dragging his hands through his curly mop of light brown hair, as it was standing up in wild curls all over his head in the aftermath.
He whirled at the sound of their footsteps, not startled, but on guard, as if not sure who might be charging in, or perhaps even magically appearing. Kicking herself for her insensitivity, Emma's eyes were quick to take in the slight tremor in Graham's hands, even as he faced them head-on with a look of determination; he obviously meant to go down swinging at whomever might have arrived. He shoved both hands into his pockets almost immediately upon seeing them – making his friend and deputy ache for the fear and shame he was still carrying and for how desperate he was for those cracks in his strong, capable façade not to show. The sooner they located Regina and she paid for what she'd done, the better it would be – for more people than Emma could even count or would have initially realized.
"Just us," she announced with a lopsided half-smile and a shrug of her shoulder, hoping to put him at ease even a bit. "Sorry for the delay, but thought I'd better take a minute and make sure there wasn't some sort of showdown."
When she nodded toward Killian, he ducked his head, abashed at the way he'd nearly charged the most powerful dark magic wielder any of them knew in vain, pointless rage, and Graham even cracked a small, hesitant smile. "Yes, well," Killian mumbled, unconsciously scratching at his ear in embarrassment and even feeling a tinge of blush color his cheeks, "I'll admit it wasn't my finest hour."
Graham shrugged, nodding in true understanding and beckoning them toward seats at the desk filling the wide space not taken by the two small cells. "Believe it or not," the sheriff commiserated in a gruff, scratchy voice, "I've been there. Sometimes, even if you know you don't stand a chance, you just have to strike out, have to try to stop the evil. Otherwise…" he paused, swallowing hard and dropping his gaze from either of theirs and instead turning to needlessly straighten the stacks of papers on his desk before he continued, "the hurt is just too much, the wrong is just too horrible to let stand. You lose your head a little."
Killian nodded too, his voice equally rough and haunted as his tone caused the other man to look up with near relief shining in his eyes. "Aye, that's it exactly. You feel you must land at least one blow for your cause or you'll go mad."
Graham shook his head ruefully as if struggling to believe he had found another who knew what he was going through instinctively and made the fight to balance beast and man, justice and vengeance, seem every bit the trial it was, but also still a fight worth undertaking, with some sense of hope for the outcome. And he wasn't alone in his mission, not this time. In fact, he couldn't remember when he had ever had such allies.
Emma stepped forward then, not wanting to interrupt he and Killian if the talk was doing them good, but also knowing Graham well enough, and being aware he was enough like her to offer him work to focus on, to steady himself with, bringing them back to their purpose. "So," she questioned, with a studiously nonchalant air, "any ideas yet on just where our mayor turned evil magical ruler may be hiding out?"
Graham shook his head with a resigned sigh, indicating the mess of maps and town blueprints spread out before him on his desk. "Not with any certainty," he admitted, not at all enjoying the knowledge that with every moment their former mayor was on the loose, she was holed up safely somewhere, plotting her next move – a strike back at them in retaliation no doubt, a shiver he couldn't stop skittering unseen down his spine at what that could mean – and quite possibly with her sadistic mother to aid her in her nefarious plans.
He placed a work-calloused finger down on the diagram of the mayor's office, tapping it in consideration as he continued. "I do have one working theory, but I can't truly advise any of us check it out. If I'm right, they would almost certainly be walking right into a magical attack. However…" he drawled the word out, hesitating slightly, and Emma nearly wondered if her friend was holding back because he deemed both she and Jones hotheaded enough to go charging into battle the moment he revealed his hunch, and knowing the peril better than most, he didn't want that responsibility on his hands.
She reached across the desk to clasp his forearm for just a moment, her grip firm, but also meant to be at least somewhat encouraging. "Go on, we're good," she urged intently, giving him a small, tight smile and bob of her head in what she could manage of assurance. "If you're thinking she's near the mayor's office, we need to know. My parents talked about going over there at some point today, trying to see if they could straighten things up and install some sort of de facto leader until an election could be held, and set up a headquarters for those who are still trying to locate lost loved ones and re-acclimate since the curse's breaking."
"Your mother's over there?" Graham blurted, wide-eyed in alarm, his indecision suddenly galvanized into action at the news. "We need to get over there right away. I can only think Regina still wants her blood most of all; her hatred of your mother, her burning desire to see Snow White pay for her supposed wrongs, is what landed all of us here…what set all her evil in motion to begin with."
"Wait, hold on Mate," Killian tried, attempting to be the voice of reason he had failed to serve as before. "You haven't told us why there…"
Emma gave a quick shake of her head to Killian as he trailed off, seeing as clearly as she did that there was no stopping the man or slowing him down – not when he was in such a state of concern. True to her suspicions, Graham didn't even pause to answer Killian's question, already slinging his jacket from over the back of his chair and onto his rangy frame while starting toward the exit.
"We need to go!" he warned again, motioning impatiently for them to follow. "I'll tell you the rest on the way."
Without any further argument, Emma and Killian simply turned back the way they'd come in order to follow him. The more his agitation increased, it upped her concern for her newly found mother and father as well, to the point that Emma found her breath going thready as they hurried along the street outside.
By the time the three of them had reached town hall, out of breath from their brisk half-walk, half-jog and cheeks reddened from the chill air, Graham had explained in short snatches of speech his suspicions of a hidden door within Regina's office and how, though he had never seen it used or been able to discover where it lead, he had always assumed it could lend her Majesty a quick getaway to some lair where she could watch and wait in secret. Not only that, but the even more troubling issue at the moment was that she could also use whatever hidden passage was concealed there to come back to the very center of town unseen and begin wreaking havoc before they were even aware of her presence.
As they clattered into the austere black-and-white decor of the office which Emma remembered shivering in the coldness of briefly when she had first arrived in town, her eyes flew in relief to her parents talking quietly, heads bent together and seemingly quite well. They in turned looked up quickly at the new arrivals, startled by their haste and worried expressions, but their aspects warming naturally when they saw Emma moving toward them in obvious relief.
"Emma, Sweetie, what is it?" Snow asked, her sweet voice dripping motherly concern in a way that soothed Emma's spirit just then, more than she knew how to measure, if the truth be told. There had certainly been times since finally meeting her traditional fairy tale parents that she as an adult woman with the rough and tumble modern life she'd had to live had felt wrong footed or even hampered and smothered by them and what they might expect from her. Certainly it had been a difficult adjustment to find that the roommate and gal pal she'd drunk shots of McCutcheon's and discussed affairs and one night stands with was the long lost mother she had never known - and proper royalty as well. Still, when the dark-headed woman turned to her just then with a doting smile and held her hand out to take Emma's, the little girl within her 28-year-old self still melted a bit, smiling back tremulously and stepping forward to take the offered hand.
"I'm fine, Mary Margaret," she assured, nearly having to blink back a rogue tear at her mother's brilliant smile of acknowledgement and the way she lightly cradled Emma's cheek in her cool, soft, maternal hand. "We all are," she added in a quieter voice. "It was you two we were worried about. We realized Regina might have a secret passage in and out of here, and she could be lying in wait for you."
Mary Margaret's eyes clouded over, and her smile turned more than a bit sad at that. Her voice was wistful and resigned when she answered, "Perhaps it would be better if she found me unawares. All the pain and loss that has come, just from her wish to punish me. Maybe it would be better if I faced her once and for all."
Emma's breath caught around the lump in her throat too large for her to swallow, but it was Graham who spoke up then before she could regain her voice.
"Nay Princess Snow, do not even think it," he cautioned seriously, stepping forward and sketching a reverent sort of half-bow from the waist, and even in his modern jeans and sheriff's badge, he pulled it off with barely a trace of irony. His clear awe and devotion in manner toward her schoolteacher mother suddenly brought a vision of the Huntsman in the Enchanted Forest that he had been to Emma's eyes in a way she had not pictured until that moment. "Please, your Highness, you must understand. There is no way to reason with her. She would seek your destruction no matter what you tried. However, you cannot give yourself over to her You are our kingdom's hope, its destined ruler. As long as you live, there is yet faith that one day we will return, that all will be made right, and that what we have lost may yet be restored. Many have suffered to see you remain to fight her evil, but I know I echo their sentiments when I say that the sacrifice is worth it. You cannot take her deeds of cruelty upon your own conscience."
Looking every bit the royalty she was, her mother's benevolent beauty of face struck Emma as she knowingly and gratefully spoke to the man who had once, long ago, saved her life. Snow shook her head at Graham's loyal words with yet another sigh. "If only I could believe that," she murmured. "No one person, whoever they might be, could be worth so much pain and suffering. You yourself are one who has paid all too much, Huntsman," she added, calling him by his former name and indicating that she knew the price which had been exacted upon him for his mercy. "I owe you such a debt that it can hardly be repaid."
Graham shook his head, looking down at his feet almost bashfully. "Do not think on it, milady Snow," he finally mumbled.
"Oh, but I must!" she pressed, stepping forward to clasp his hand with the one of hers not still holding Emma's. "I can hardly undo what you have suffered, but I would at least see you properly thanked for your bravery and honor."
They might have gone back and forth like that for some time, Emma reflected wryly, meeting Killian's amused gaze under dark, raised brows that clearly indicated he was thinking much the same thoughts, even across the room, if they had not been interrupted by the sudden entrance of Belle, who came charging through the door and into the office where they were all gathered, wild-eyed and out of breath. She was also, however, certainly on a mission and determined, an urgent resolve in every line of her bearing that forced Emma to immediately take wary notice. Though the young woman before them had still been withdrawn and weakened from her ordeal when they had left her a short time ago, it had already been apparent that she had nerves of steel; she wouldn't have survived what she had intact in any other way - and a core of strength beneath the deceptively delicate surface. If Emma had harbored any doubt of that though, it was laid to rest upon viewing her now. Belle's eyes crackled as they sought out the face she had come for, zeroing in on Graham like a magnet and hurrying forward, both worry and anger vibrating from her almost palpably in her haste.
"Sheriff! Please, you need to hear this!" she exclaimed.
Graham was already moving to meet her in the middle of the room, alert and attuned to her distress, and took her trembling hands in his own larger ones. "It's alright, Belle," he assured, his thick, lilting brogue wrapping more noticeably around the words and the sound of her name in his attempt to soothe. "We're all listening. What is it?"
Her story spilled out in a disillusioned torrent of words, no only admitting that the man she had hoped to be reunited with, the true heart she had always believed lay within the Dark One, had been a lie, but that none of them were truly safe - deals negated or no. Her loyalty to Gold had been repaid with treachery as she had witnessed him reteaming with the Queen of Hearts who double-crossed him long ago, and she knew they needed to be even more onguard; someone was being targeted as a useful victim to their murderous plans, and Emma and Hook at the very least would be made to seem incompetent; at worst, guilty for the crime.
As the details she had seen and heard poured out, Emma saw Killian's good hand ball into a first, clenching so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and she noticed (not without a fair bit of heat rising up within her) the muscle working in his jaw. He shook his head in pent-up anger and frustratedly jerked his face away from her, avoiding her gaze when he saw Emma trying to catch his eye. She could read the emotions he was telegraphing to her as clearly as she had earlier sworn that he could read hers. He was cursing himself for a fool, hating the fact that he had given this Cora the means to reach their world, even knowing she was dangerous. So blinded by his desire to locate his Crocodile's lair and skin his old nemesis at long last, he had not stopped to question what the sorceress with the magic to make it possible could seek there.
Emma wanted to reach out to him, to tell him that he hadn't known this would be her plan, that he had parted ways with the woman upon their arrival, and that if he hadn't benefited from her powers and offered his vessel for her ride, the witch would still have found another way. It wasn't the time for confessions and comfort though, and she sensed her attempts would fall on deaf ears at present. Sighing instead, and biting back the assurance she ached to give, Emma merely watched the pain pass over his darkening brow, stunned at how even tormented he was so deeply beautiful it stole her breath.
Once Belle had finished speaking, Graham wasted no time jumping into action, and his words snapped Emma from contemplation of Killian back into focus on what they were going to do. He directed them firmly and decisively, his choices making smart, logical sense and reminding Emma that despite the stress he was under, despite the fact that this was much more danger than the little town he aimed to protect had ever seen, and regardless of the painful memories reasserting themselves in his mind, her friend was good at his job, and they were right to listen to him now. "Belle, you shouldn't be seen with us too much…" Graham mused slowly, "...it might tip Gold off that we've been warned. Go with Snow to the B & B. She and Ruby will help you get settled in a room, and you can figure out what you want to do next." He paused, looking at Belle a bit sheepishly, with a nod of his head as he deferred to her. "I'm sorry," he added. "I guess I simply assumed you wouldn't want to stay with him after all…"
Though there were pained, regretful tears in her eyes, Belle shook her head vehemently and gave him a brave smile. "You thought right," she avowed staunchly.
Graham nodded once again and added, "I'll join you there later, see how you're getting on," with a smile full of such affection Emma could see its gentling effect on Belle even from the outside looking in.
Mary Margaret and Belle left, and Graham watched them go with quiet, rapt attention until they had disappeared from sight, then turned to the rest of them. "It's more important now than ever that we find the passage she might be using. As the Evil Queen, Regina may be unhinged, but she is calculating too. She'll have a plan and a way to manage whatever she's got in store." He moved toward the large, imposing fireplace behind the mayor's desk nearly taking up an entire side of the room, explaining even as he went, "I was just going to check…"
His voice trailed off as he ran questing fingers over the mantelpiece and down around the sides of the monstrosity, feeling almost on instinct until suddenly something popped free under his touch. The ancient stone, hidden behind black-and-white wallpaper groaned as it moved enough to reveal an uneven crack down the height of the fireplace - one which could open into a passage wide enough for a full-sized adult to pass through.
Graham looked back to the rest of them before pulling out a flashlight and moving to step forward. David and Emma were poised to follow when Killian interrupted. "You three go ahead. I have another idea that might be fruitful. Gold owns a cabin out in the woods all by itself, seemingly the perfect place for hiding out and secretive plotting. Not to mention that there is always the Mills family crypt in the cemetery, which we all know is quite probably where Regina holed up. Seeing as time is of the essence, why don't I begin at one of those points, and we'll cover more ground at once? We may very well meet each other in the middle of the passage anyway, you from her and me from the crypt. But if there's a chance it isn't the same, part of this is my fault, allowing that poisonous viper to get here and join her daughter's cause. If I can help us get to her sooner, all the better."
Seeming to take the fact that no one had argued with him for agreement, Killian gave a firm nod of his head and turned to leave. Yet worry gnawed at Emma's stomach, and she couldn't allow them to split up and leave it like that, not when Killian still appeared to be blaming himself. She couldn't have him thinking she agreed. Quickly, she assured her father and her boss that she'd catch up with them in a minute, then ran after him. Catching Killian by grasping his hand just before he could slip out the door of the station, she asked, "Are you alright? ...Sure you don't want me to go with you?"
"I will be once my err is corrected, and that witch is no longer on the loose," he gave her a half-smile that just barely touched his eyes, an echo of the sparkle that usually lit their blue depths. However, he must have seen the worry in her gaze, or sensed it in her tense concentration as she continued to clutch his hand in hers. "Fear not, Swan," he added lowly, almost right in her ear and causing a tingling sensation to run through her limbs despite her other concerns. "I'll find you the moment I return."
She wanted to laugh at how much his words reminded her of the promise her parents always made to find each other, and she had to choke back the almost pleading reply of "Always?" that flew unexpectedly to the tip of her tongue. Instead, she offered what she hoped was a heartening bit of sass and challenging smile. "I'll hold you to that," she vowed.
Emma did finally let go then, heading back into the station even as Killian turned toward the nearby tree line. She had slipped out of view, and he was too intent on the path before him to notice when a slight, suited figure with an ornate gold-topped cane entered the woods leading to the town cemetery at a safe distance behind him. The pursuer might have been cautious, but his was clearly tracking Killian all the same.
It wasn't long after Killian entered the shadows of the trees overhead and the brush all around that he knew something was not right. His senses were impeccable beyond all mere human capabilities, and though the niggling sound was faint, he had no doubt he was being followed. Beyond his werewolf duality of nature, Killian wasn't magic; yet, the awareness that boon or curse - whichever his shifting was - granted him the preternatural sight, hearing, and smell to be sure that more beings were in the forest than himself, the twittering birds, and the few occasional scurrying small creatures he could hear in the undergrowth.
For a moment, he considered taking his lupin form to cover distance faster and be most ready to fight if attacked, but not knowing who or what dogged his steps, Killian hesitated - unsure whether or not he should reveal his wolf. Instead, he crossed the small clearing he had reached, not far from where he had learned the small property which belonged to Gold was located, placing himself so nothing but trees were firmly at his back and he could clearly sight his pursuant the moment the stepped into view. If they hoped to surprise or attack him unaware, he would at least steal that pleasure from them.
His skin prickled with tension and nervous anticipation as he waited, listening as intently as possible for any hint that might give away what threat he was about to face. He had seen the Queen of Heart's magic in action, had felt the cold grip of her anger when they first met, and had witnessed her ruthless destruction firsthand in the Enchanted Forest. If she were to emerge from the trees across the clearing, he knew that he stood little chance of defeating her powers, as a wolf or a man, but he wouldn't go down without giving her a fight.
The longer he waited, straining to hear and see, Killian became convinced that it was not her, nor her daughter, who followed him. The sound of the steps were light, taken by a slightly built person, and one who was in no hurry, measured and calculatedly calm. There was also a slight unevenness to the pace - as of one who favored one side or walked with a limp. By the time the footsteps had grown quite near, just beyond the edges of cleared space he stood in, Killian had already deduced that it was Rumplestiltskin who haunted his steps.
When the paces halted, eerie silence falling all around, Killian steeled himself for the impact of whatever the Dark One might hurl his way unseen; determined to make his foe emerge and at least stand man-to-man before he employed whatever dark spell he might have at the ready. Squaring his shoulders, Jones called out in a harsh but steady voice, "Come on out and face me, Dark One. I know you're there."
Slowly, dramatically, the evil imp who had maimed his hand and murdered his first love emerged from the shadows and stepped into Killian's view, looking as dangerous and unhinged as he had on that day so long ago; his visage just as monstrous and every bit as daunting. Killian didn't know what he had hoped would be different when he faced this villain again, but he had chased this moment across realms and years, and he would not succumb without inflicting whatever damage he could. Emma flashed into his mind at that second - her golden hair, her bright eyes - and his resolve was strengthened. He wouldn't see this fiend hurt or kill another person he loved (yes, loved, he knew it to be true even as his mind first thought it) even if he had to pay a fatal price to insure the fact.
His Crocodile's gruesome grin of satisfaction stretched across his odious face, which slowly turned greenish and leathery before his eyes, giving Killian the long-remembered reptilian impression he had witnessed in the past. His words were a sinister hiss of warning that slithered in the werewolf's gut as he taunted, "Here I am, Dearie. Do you really think you're ready to face me?"
Killian gave a small nod, readying for battle, but barely had time to flinch in horrified recognition before catching the glint of silver in the Dark One's hand as he raised it to strike.