Chapter Five:
It was queer to follow a stream of green dust no one else could see. Its light remained constant in boldness through day and night. The dust flowed in a wavy line about a foot above head height but kept a constant direction of Southwest. The dust seemed to be crawling like the tickling fingers of a sibling up the left arm of America.
Zelena had left around one in the afternoon and rode the bike all the way to ten thirty at night but by that time the trail of dust had not dipped any lower in height indicating rather clearly she had a lot further to go. It did seem too easy for finding a soulmate to be a one day job.
Zelena had crossed several borders, finding herself in the Clearfield borough of Pennsylvania looking for a place to sleep. When she finally reached the West Side a pastor locking up the United Methodist Church for the night called out to the lone rider.
"Where are you going so late at night?"
Zelena approached the man and got off the bike, rubbing soreness out of her legs. "I'm just looking for a place to sleep. My trip is turning out longer than I expected."
Generally she wouldn't even have graced the man with a response but nine hours of straight biking took too much out of her. The young girl living in Oz came out from her spot behind the Witch and sat squarely in Zelena's consciousness.
The pastor smiled. "Our church often services the homeless so we have a few beds prepared. Would you like one? We never charge and you look much too tired to reach any hotel."
Zelena nodded gratefully to the man and picked up her bag. It was mighty refreshing to be judged by appearance alone and not by reputation.
She walked behind the pastor under the creamy stone arches of the main tower to a set of automatic double doors, the shiny black of their metal contrasting with the stonework of the church. Inside was a typical setup of dark wooden pews and a half oval stain-glass window over which was superimposed a simple wooden cross. The right wall was uncovered the lights behind the back wall painted it a yellowish cream. The left wall however included an impressive set of silver organ tubes in a wooden frame similar in color to the pews.
Along with various pieces of religious imagery the main room included two flags on either side of the altar one of them the American flag itself. Zelena did not have time to make out the other flag as the pastor moved swiftly to the left side and through a door near where they had entered.
The next room was of medium size and well lit with intricate lamp holders set in the walls at regular intervals. The holders themselves were obviously meant to seem old but were actually just imitations. Other than the lamps the room only contained a series of beds the kind commonly found in boarding school dormitories. The pastor stepped a couple of paces into the room then turned to Zelena.
"Any bed you wish to use is yours for the evening. I'm afraid we don't provide breakfast although there are some very nice restaurants in town. I will be moving around the church getting ready for the next mass at around 7 o'clock. The noise will probably wake you I am sad to say. Is that a feasible time?"
"Absolutely. Thank you so much."
The pastor nodded and left the room the way he came but not before tapping Zelena on the shoulder and saying pleasantly, "Good night."
Alone in the room, Zelena set her bag down upon the closest bed and waved her hand, opening the clasp and allowing various toiletries, a change of clothes, and an extra pillow to float out and lay themselves on the bed. She found a bathroom adjourning her room and brushed her teeth and changed her clothes, thankful the room didn't have a mirror. Her avoidance of mirrors stemmed from the little glimmer of magic that would always flash across her eyes as a child and how her adoptive father hated the sight of it, ridding the house of mirrors within a month.
She set the bag on the floor with the appropriate amount of stuff set beside it to not arouse suspicion as to the size of the container. Wearily casting a mild protection spell around herself, she laid down on the bed, pulling the blankets up on her shoulders and hugging the pillow. This habit was also left over from her childhood nights of sleeping alone and wishing for a warm body to hold.
Closing her eyes on the bad memories, Zelena fell quickly asleep.
The desire to escape childhood memories seemed to have been in vain for no sooner had she fallen asleep than she was suddenly an eight year old again walking up to her (adoptive) father's house. Her flaming red hair, which already reached the middle of her back at that point was pushed up and secured under a floppy gray hat that had once been brown before it became so old that even its color died.
The rest of her meager dress was in a similar state of despair. Her bare feet padded slowly up the stones set in the grass up to the shack, taking an incredible amount of time due to the weight of the sack over the small girl's back. After a period of Herculean effort she made it to the front of the house but expended even more effort going around to the back door, hoping to avoid her father.
The sack was shifted to her hands and the door eased gently open. The little girl's light blue eyes set immediately upon the crumpled figure she could see through opening that connected the kitchen to the dining room. They lit up with the smallest of lights in a sort of despairing joy. At least she wouldn't have to suffer his wrath tonight.
The sack was set down on the floor and the foodstuffs set out upon a small back table or in cupboards. Then came the scary part. The eight year old stretched out her hands in intense concentration and ever so slowly beckoned the beer mug in her father's hands towards her. It inched out of his grasp, halting in midair by the girl's command every time her father twitched.
Finally she got it into her own hands and scurried outside to rinse it out with water from the pump and fill it with clean water. She walked back into the house and, grabbing pieces of food as she moved through the kitchen, set the contents of her arms upon the table for her father when he woke up.
She then walked back to the bag and pulled out a wad of money. She made the money doing small odd jobs for the townspeople who were only too happy to assist the poor drunkard's daughter who they felt helpless to aid in any other way.
The girl pushed aside her skirt and stared at her knees, rubbed red from kneeling on the floor of the game hunter's shop, scrubbing the floors. Those red marking had earned her the money. She would put some of it into her secret stash under the floorboards but ever since her father had found out about her working, he had demanded the money for himself. So she gave him some.
She was a good daughter. She was the one who worked but her father was her father and he wanted the money. The last few months she had given him all of it. Then she turned eight and realized that giving him money made him drink more and more of that strange brown liquid he liked so much.
And the brown liquid made him hit her when she did magic. So with her child mind she decided to take away everything that brought her pain.
Not giving money brought pain so she would give it. Giving lots of money brought pain too so she would give some of it. Doing magic brought her pain so she stopped doing it when he could see it.
The red on her knees would be dedicated to paying for a journey to find a new mom but some of it would also be dedicated to bringing her more pain. She would just have to avoid as much of it as she could until there was enough money under the floorboards. She didn't remember her mom very well but the faint memories were always happy and her father had never been so pleased with his life. Naturally, a new mom would bring the happy back and get rid of the pain. She certainly hoped so.
The memory ended and the dream shifted, bring Zelena to a common landscape she preferred to avoid. Now she was her current age and at the height of her power, standing among the trees of Storybrooke's forest, watching the death of Rumplestiltskin's son. Both he and the Savior were there, crying over the dying man. Deviating from the actual events that had occurred, they both turned to look at her.
"How could you?" Emma yelled, tears falling traitorously down her cheeks. The Savior was usually so composed and even through the wicked satisfaction Zelena felt from doing the deed, there was a sense of alarm seeing the natural order so destroyed.
Emma shook her head from side to side, scattering the tears across the fall leaves. "You're a monster! Not even human anymore! No wonder you don't have a heart!" Here the dialogue changed slightly from the general recurring script. "No one would ever give you their heart because who would ever love a murderer!"
Rumple's face also rose, The Dark One fully present in his eyes which were steadily becoming unnaturally black. "I'll kill you, Witch! I'll rip you to shreds!" Zelena's dream self flinched.
Then even Neal turned his head to stare into the Witch's eyes, not speaking at all but his eyes conveying a deep, deep sadness over how he would be deprived of his life and his loved ones. A tear dripped down his cheek and he turned away.
The forms of Emma and Rumple then twisted and morphed into a single mass which soon consolidated itself into the very eight year old of the previous dream. Young Zelena held Neal's head gently in her lap then turned to her older self with tears running unabated down her cheeks.
"What have you done to me?!"
The scene went dark rapidly and Zelena found herself clawing back at consciousness, the sounds of someone moving through the church waking her. Her entire body was shaking on the bed, the pillow strewn violently across the room.
She reached up a trembling hand to her face and found you don't seem to need a heart to cry.
Author's Note:
This chapter is a bit off my general update schedule, sorry. Life happens. However, I have made a connection with a writing friend of mine and together we have been doing some work that will make this story much better going forward. I can't wait to write it. As mentioned in the summary this is a redemption fic so I couldn't let Zelena get out of being responsible for Neal's death. Also, I did my research for the section on Pennsylvania but if I got anything wrong I am very open to learning the real facts. I am trying to not include much religion in this I just saw the United Methodist church on the map and figured it would be a good way to get Zelena to rest. The room Zelena actually sleeps in is of my own creation. (I originally was going to have her just sleep on the side of the road)