Author's note: Sorry this update took so long—real life didn't want to let me write. I just wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing—your love of this fic warms my heart beyond words. You guys are awesome.
Also, I just wanted to clear up some confusion about "the witch," by saying she isn't anyone we've seen on the show.
And now, on with the story…
"It doesn't work. I already tried."
"How hard did you try?"
"You think I'm faking it?"
"I think you're more like Mom than you realize."
Beth frowned. Usually she'd take this as a compliment, but under present conditions, it felt the furthest thing from praise.
"And I think you blame yourself for things being messed up."
Because it's my fault.
She couldn't even save Emma, not really. They'd taken her the book, after moving as fast and as far as they possibly could to outrun the pirate currently wearing her dad's skin. And nothing. No jolt of recollection. No stupefied expression while the years of her life came rushing in like a flood. She'd skimmed through the pages like it was any ordinary object.
"You didn't cast the curse, Em."
"I may as well have. I should've known she wasn't dead."
No villains were ever dead. Not permanently. How many times did Maleficent come back, and Henry's Grandpa Rumple—not to mention the whole Zelena debacle. Did Beth really think she was so extraordinary that she'd succeeded where her predecessors failed? That she'd taken down an evil sorceress all on her own? And at only seven years, too.
Pathetic.
"It's not your responsibility to protect everyone."
"Isn't it?"
Henry stepped around to face her, taking to his knee and grasping her by both arms. "Absolutely not. Em, you're just a kid—an exceptional one, but a kid all the same. Accepting your limitations isn't the same as being weak. No one could've known what the witch had planned. Not me, not Killian. It's okay, Em. We're gonna make it out of this. Someday it'll be just another story added to the book—how the daughter of the Savior and Captain Hook rescued all of Storybrooke."
Beth whispered, "How do you know?"
Henry smiled, giving each arm a gentle squeeze. "Like you said, I'm the Truest Believer. It's my job." He tucked his hand under her chin, wiped her cheek with the pad of his thumb.
Beth leapt forward, wrapping her arms so tightly around her brother that he feigned choking.
"Can't. Breathe."
She smiled despite the want to cry. "I love you, Henry."
She kissed his cheek, something she'd done a thousand times in her life, but never when a curse was in place. The power that erupted struck with enough force to nearly topple them to the ground. Beth thought her heart might shatter into a million pieces from sheer fullness of affection. And suddenly, she was overcome with a greater sense of hope than she'd ever known.
She broke their hug to look at Henry. "Was that…?"
He laughed, taking her up in his arms and spinning her round. "Em, you did it!"
When he set her on her feet, Beth said, "We should still check the vault. I'm not letting the witch get ahead of us again.
—
The lock hadn't been as complicated as Beth had assumed—a simple flick of her wrist and the doors exploded apart as though fired upon by a cannon. The real trouble came when trying to locate clues amidst Regina's magical relics, as her dad called them.
Beth's heart sank momentarily. "What is she to me? Other than a nuisance."
But she pressed on, determined not to let something Hook said rattle her. Besides, he was probably awake now, thanks to her and Henry. His words, hurtful though they were, would soon be a distant memory.
All that was left was to defeat the witch, once and for all.
Beth perused the bookshelf while Henry inspected secret hatches and trapdoors anyone who wasn't Regina's son wouldn't know about. She was about to move on to potions when she came across a heading titled: PRESERVING THE DARK CURSE. And a subset that included: How to Eliminate the Threat of a Savior.
There were scribbles and handwritten notes and arrows leading to smaller, more difficult to distinguish scribbles. It looked more like a journal than one of Regina's spell books. Beth flipped the page to find a map of—
"The Black Forest."
Wonderland.
"Find anything, Em?" Henry wiped the dust from his hands onto his jeans. "Nothing on my end, just some old chests. I forgot my mom used to have so many snakes—judging by their decay, she forgot, too. Em? What's wrong?"
Swallowing thickly, she turned the book toward him. "Mom was never cursed."
"What?" Henry hurried to her side.
"Not like the rest of you."
He read through Beth's discovery and the look he gave her did little to quiet her fears. "That's not our only problem." He said. "I know this handwriting, and it doesn't belong to any witch."
—
Normally, she would've put on a brave face and denied the all-consuming terror raging like a tempest in her chest. Normally, she would've refused such a juvenile display and insisted she was much too grownup to be coddled. But this day was anything but normal, and Beth latched onto Henry's hand like it was the only thing keeping her on the ground.
She had newfound respect for her parents—for her entire family. She'd begun to notice a horrible pattern with this latest villain: One step forward, fifteen back. From what she knew of her family's every adventure, this was how it had always been. But they never gave up, and neither could she.
But gods, she was tired.
She'd thought that the curse was the only thing standing in the way of victory. But now…
Now they had a whole new set of problems to contend with. And Beth didn't know if she had the strength.
If they failed, Emma would never recover. Her memories would vanish forever, good and bad alike. Every trace of her personality would be erased, and she'd be nothing more than an empty shell, wandering the Earth with no idea why. And if the scribbles in the journal were true, the witch had spent the last seven years draining Emma of magic, so that even if she remembered who she was, she'd have no way of defending herself. Or anyone else.
The revelation broke Beth's heart beyond anything she'd ever experienced.
She tightened her hold on Henry's hand, grateful that she wasn't alone.
As they exited the mausoleum—indeed, the very instant their feet touched earth, the ground began to quake. The rain ceased and the sky opened, clouds whirling like a vortex overhead. Their path was impeded by a woman with faded blue hair, almost gray. She was the spitting image of every cartoon villain ever when confronted with the threat of defeat. Snarl at her lips like a feral beast, eyes bloodshot, nostrils flared—all that was missing was steam shooting out from her ears.
"Em, run!" Henry commanded, and Beth obeyed without a second thought to slow her efforts.
But she wasn't fast enough. She nearly collided with a cloaked figure that had no face, and when she tried to escape him, he blocked her way again. Everywhere she turned, he stood as a ghoulish barricade, trapping her in place.
The witch had Henry by the throat in an invisible chokehold. Before Beth could repay the demon's magic with her own, the cemetery was consumed by purple smoke.
—
She awoke in a place that was familiar for all the wrong reasons, shivering for the chill in her bones, and the heavy weight of Dark magic surrounding her. Not a single spec of Light for miles.
"Didn't your mother tell you?" The witch sat at the opposite end of a cavernous chamber, inspecting her appearance in a large round mirror. "It isn't polite to go through people's things." She looked over her shoulder, exaggerating a pout. "Oh, that's right. You never had a mother." Seeming to have reigned in her fury in the time that Beth was unconscious, she crossed the room with a leisurely stride, advancing on the child, who was propped against a wall of stone. "I suppose you think you're terribly clever. No doubt you think you've won, now you've cracked the case, as it were. But, darling, the day I'm beaten by some snot-faced urchin is the day I retire, outright."
Beth tried to move, only to find her wrists had been bound behind her back. "I know you rewrote the Dark Curse. You made everyone some weird version of themselves."
"I did this town a favor. I took away their pain."
"You stole their identities."
The witch studied Beth, cocking her head to one side. "Tell me, darling—how did it feel when your own father dismissed you as a hindrance to his happy ending with a woman who isn't Emma? Hm?"
Beth clenched her jaw, refusing to answer. Refusing to let the memory get the better of her.
"What if I told you I could take that moment away? That you could live your life as though it'd never happened? You'd like that, wouldn't you?" When Beth didn't respond, the witch knelt down in front of her. "Don't you see? That's what I did for the others. They were their most contented, unburdened selves. And you took that away from them. You brought back their misery because you couldn't leave well enough alone." The witch took a deep breath to calm the ire creeping into her tone. "Now tell me, Elizabeth, how far are you willing to go to save your mother? Hm?" She caressed Beth's cheek, her fingers colder than ice. "You'd do anything to have her back, wouldn't you?"
"What do you want me to do?"
The witch smiled, the teeth that were pristine only days ago, now showing signs of neglect. "Are you aware that your mother was once tempted by great darkness? She resisted, of course. But you—I've a feeling you'd make a superlative villain. You may be the Product of True Love twice over, but evil is in your blood, dearie."
"Shows how much you know." Beth grumbled.
"Where do you think all those stories came from? Your father didn't earn his reputation by kissing puppies."
"He changed. He's a hero."
"Mm…deep down, you know the truth, Elizabeth. You know villains never truly change—they get good at faking it. But once you've had a taste for vengeance, you're never quite satisfied."
"You're wrong."
"I didn't want to have to do this." The witch frowned. "But you've left me no choice."
Returning to the oversized mirror, the she touched her hand to its surface, pulling away once an image appeared inside its frame. Like a window to another world. Another time.
Walking along the street of a port town, clad in black leather from head to toe, except for a red vest, and in possession of two hands, was Beth's dad. He laughed with men—from his crew, she assumed—until he was bumped by a beggar passing by.
"You, stop! Even gutter rats have more manners than you just displayed."
The beggar apologized, and in turning, revealed a partial view of his face.
"Ah, I was wrong." Said Killian. "Not a rat at all—more…more like a crocodile."
The crewmen laughed, and Killian was well pleased with himself. He knocked the cup of coins from the beggar's hand and kicked him onto the ground when he tried to retrieve them.
"What is this?" Asked Beth.
"I'm showing you where you came from, darling." Said the witch. "What's inside you."
The scene changed to a cloaked figure ascending a spiral staircase, wielding a bucket. Only after he slayed a guard with his hook was his face revealed. He stepped over the guard's body and took the keys from the man's belt, entering the prisoner's cell with a mask of concern.
"You must be Belle."
He pretended to be there for the purpose of rescue, but when Belle swore never to betray Rumpelstiltskin, Hook employed brute force to render her unconscious. "So pretty. Yet so useless."
"The time for making deals is done." He said to Emma, locked in a cell of her own, with horrible jagged bars, like a mythical creature's teeth. "Just as I am done, with you."
Gunfire propelled Belle across the town line, into Mr. Gold's arms.
"No, no, no, no…"
"Fear not," said Hook, still aiming his weapon, "she'll live. She'll just have no idea who you are."
Distraught, Gold said, "What you've done cannot be undone."
"Well, now you're finding out how it feels!" Hook held his arms out at his sides. "Well, go ahead, Crocodile—do your worst!"
He shoved Emma out of the way and bounded upon Mr. Gold like a man possessed. "You took Milah—my love, my happiness." Beth didn't recognize the man growling these words. His face twisted with malice. Dark and…and evil. "And for that, I now take your life."
Unable to withstand a second more, Beth cried, "Stop it! I'll do anything, I swear, just…" she fought to hold back a sob, and failed. "Just…make it stop."
The witch smirked as she returned the mirror to its reflective state. "There's no need to make such a fuss, little one." She stalked toward Beth and crouched over her. Then, with a wave of her hand, her once empty palm offered an apple, red as blood. "All you have to do is take a bite."
"And you'll fix my mom? You'll give her back her memories?"
"Mm…" the witch purred, "I cross my heart."