"I just want to talk to her. She doesn't need to know who I am. I could just ask for directions or something." Two figures, both in their late teens stood outside Mr. Gold's shuttered Pawn Shop pretending to gaze at the treasures within, when in reality, they were using the sunny day, and reflective glass, to watch Regina, Emma, and Henry whispering around the sheriffs squad car.
"It's too risky." The young man with jet black hair and soft brown eyes answered quietly. His face was a little round, but his features were built well, giving him a look of good humor; though he didn't seem to have any of that now as he continued to stare at the image on the glass.
"But just look at her!" With hair as black as midnight done now in a half twist that showed off the three feet of wavy length, the young woman's voice was pitched in despair. "I can't stand it."
Strong fingers took her hand in a sheltering grip, and he turned to regard her for a moment before risking too much and pulling her into his embrace. She folded into him perfectly; practice and true love ensuring their merge was as graceful as a swan's across a lake. Full lips brushed her temple, "I know. But it's only a few weeks. Once the others put Maleficent back into her body, we can free her from the caverns and bring down the wall."
The young woman nodded, a sense of resigned repetition in her movements, but her classically beautiful face was pinched in frustration, "It's just not fair, Neal. They shouldn't have to suffer like this. She's been trapped for who knows how long. We have no idea what we're going to find when we finally get her out. She could be worse than Belle," her perfect teeth gnashed at the hated name. "I hate this, I feel so useless."
Turning them, Neal wrapped his arm around the other and propelled her down the cheery fall sidewalk. His voice was low enough to keep their conversation from the many others on the curb, "You're not useless, you're the one that's going to get Maleficent out, and right now, we need to focus on that, just that; the rest will take care of itself with time."
The woman under his arm scoffed, but reached up to take his hand across her shoulder, the light of the brilliant sun making the large round ruby in her engagement ring glow. "Every day she's locked in there is a day too long, a minute too long! Roland and Liam better have done their parts or I'm going to make them pay."
A soft kiss hit her temple once again, "No one wants her free more than they do—"
"I don't care," she huffed indignantly as they waited to cross the street, "She's my best friend, and I'm about ready to start bringing the pain." As she seethed, her crisp voice had begun twist her words, giving them the rolling sounds of London.
Neal chuckled, reaching for the rental keys in his pocket and clicking the button to deactivate the car alarm on the black sedan, "You're showing your roots, Apple."
She glared at him as she rounded the car, but her face broke into a grin by the time they were inside. "Can we at least drive by? I know I can't go in, but just being close," she paused in pain, "maybe she'll feel us and know we're close by and working to get her out."
Neal used the mirror and glanced behind them at Regina, Emma, and Henry still talking by the squad car, "Alright, but we can't stay, just a drive by."
Across the console, warm fingers wrapped around his own, the telling callouses on her index and middle finger, comforting. "Thank you."
"That house was definitely lived in, so if we're going with the theory that whoever owns the mansion is The Author, then I think we can assume he's still in town." Emma's tired feet had finally given out on her, and she sat half propped up against the car door. She'd been a part of Operation Mongoose—very funny by the way—for weeks now, but despite spending hours every night in the mansion library, they were no closer to discerning the meaning of all the blank books inside.
"We can't be certain of that," Regina's sharp voice rejected. "Storybrooke may be safer now that Gold is gone, but perhaps The Author left before Belle threw him out."
The whole town had rejoiced when word has spread like lightening that the pretty librarian had forced her husband across the town line, banishing him forever. Despite Mary Margaret's protests to think of Belle, the town had even gathered at The Rabbit Hole for a celebratory round of drinks and festivities that had landed three people in jail due to over indulgence and excessive exuberance.
Still, Belle was well liked in the town, and when she withdrew into the mansion on Baelfire Court, and rarely ventured out, the good people of Storybrooke had taken to leaving food and flowers on her doorstep until she was well enough to rejoin them.
Regina had even baked her four personal apple pies before she'd thought better of delivering them herself and summoned Henry instead. Baking was a balm to her tattered soul these days. Letting Robin go had been the right thing to do, not for her or Robin, not even for Marion, but for Roland. The little boy had filled her heart with such hope, that she might have had a second chance at being the kind of mother Henry had deserved, but when she'd balanced her needs against his, sending him with both of his parents had been the only thing she could have done.
That was little comfort when she'd taken the box of ungifted birthday presents to the hospital for donation, the nurses all happily accepting the new toys for the children's ward.
"Or maybe," Henry added, standing nearly as tall as both his mothers now, "Grandpa put him in the hat."
Emma nodded as Regina reached out a hand to rest comfortingly on Henry's arm. The young teen had such confused emotions regarding his grandfather. Twisted and festering, Henry fluctuate between fits of anger towards the man, and genuine loss that drove him to sit quietly staring out the window.
"Good point, Kid. Killian did say Gold sucked some wizard into the hat in that house. He didn't think it was The Author, just some guy named The Apprentice—whatever that means."
Henry glanced over at his blond mother as she and his dark haired mom began discussing the likelihood of The Apprentice and The Author being the same person. Henry wasn't seeing as much of Emma as he usually did. For starters, he was living full time with Regina, making sure she was alright after losing Robin, but more importantly, Emma was now spending most of her nights on the Jolly Roger.
Despite the Curse of Shattered Sight, Henry liked Killian. He represented the hope Henry had in the redemption of all Storybook villains.
Plus, when Emma wasn't around, Killian let him swear, and was even teaching him some Enchanted Forest curse words—that was icing on the cake.
"Well I guess we won't know until this Author is identified and located, and that means we're going to need to figure out how to unlock that ridiculous hat." Regina crossed her arms in aggravation. Her days were spent in her crypt, going over every incantation she could find to unlock the mysteries of the round star box.
Killian had told them that Gold had used the dagger to open it, but since Belle had the dagger and wasn't giving it to anyone, Regina had resorted to skirting the very edges of light magic to open the box, but to no avail.
Henry smiled over at her, "You'll figure it out, Mom. I know you will, and then we'll let the faeries out and they can help us figure out what it is."
With a smile, Regina hugged her son, "Unfortunately, Henry, I need to know what it is before I can open it, nothing I have is helping." She looked over at Emma, "I need to get into Gold's house, he knew how to use the box and the hat, he has to have something about it somewhere."
Hesitantly, Emma nodded, "I think you're right. No one wants to disturb Belle, but I don't think we have much of a choice. I'll ask Ruby to go over and talk to her, she's probably closer to Belle than anyone else in town."
Holding her tongue against placing their fate in Little Red Ridding Hood's slippery grasp, Regina nodded, and turned her head to watch a black sedan drive past the library and turn right.
The Storybrooke library sat closed in the middle of a Saturday. The head librarian—the only librarian—was instead, curled in the stacks reading books she'd never expected to need knowledge of. Confirmation of her condition by Dr. Whale had been met with a soft, sad look from the doctor as he'd handed her a box of tissue in his office.
But over the last week, Belle had come to grips with her new reality, and she was fortifying herself with her greatest weapon, knowledge.
At her feet, tucked under a larger volume was a book she had yet to open, but hadn't been able to put back. It was a book of last resort, one she would read only if absolutely necessary.
But as tears streamed down her cheeks, as the overwhelming task before her started to take shape, she couldn't help that her eyes kept seeking out the spine of that single tome, which only made her cry harder.