"Can you help me?" The woman said, raising her voice to be heard over the crying of the baby.
Dr. Whale looked up from his paperwork, a puzzled frown marring his brow. His examination and the follow-up tests on Mary Margaret just led to even more questions. He turned his gaze politely to the woman.
"Yes?"
"The baby – he's hungry. Can you direct me to a wet nurse?"
"You found a baby?" Whale came around the desk, reaching for the infant. "Is he all right?"
The woman nodded. "Other than being hungry, he's fine."
"Where did you find him?"
"He was abandoned," she said. "I've done my best to keep him comfortable, but I cannot find his mother."
Whale gave the baby a quick once-over – not the easiest thing to do since Neal was squalling his head off.
"It just so happens I know where his mother is," Whale said. "Come with me."
He handed the baby back to the woman and she followed him down the hallway.
"I didn't get your name," he said. "I'm Dr. Whale."
"Dora," she replied softly. "My friends call me Dora."
Whale pushed open the door to the private room.
"This is Mary Margaret Blanchard," he said. "She was found collapsed on the street. When I did my examination, I discovered that she was lactating." At Dora's confused look, he amended, "Nursing. She'd given birth at some point a few months ago – something that no one in town had any idea about." He chewed his lower lip nervously. "Least of all me."
He reached out for Neal, holding him up and studying him a little more closely. "His hair looks more blonde than brown," he said warily. Neal's face was red and angry, his cries coming in short, sharp bursts now.
"Please," Dora said. "I know she is ill, but can she nurse him?"
"I believe so," Whale said. "Let's give it a try."
Dora reached out to take Neal and Whale wasn't letting go. "Let me," she said. "I've some experience with this."
"Oh." Whale stepped back, handing Neal over. "Of course. I'll just…I'll be outside. Let me know when he's finished."
"I will," she said, stroking Neal's head. "Come little one. It's time to eat."
##
Emma looked up from her breakfast as the older woman slid into the seat across from her. She'd met her the very first day, and she was four units down on the block. Her name was Angele, but went by the name Jelly. She also talked way too much. Jelly was on an eight year sentence for involuntary manslaughter due to a related DUI, and for some reason she seemed to think she was everyone's mother.
"It won't work, you know," Jelly said.
Emma pushed her scrambled eggs around on her plate. "What won't work?"
"Trying to get out of here," Jelly said. "I've seen you, and so have they," she pointed at one of the guards with a slice of toast. "You take every outdoor work detail. You tried to get yourself assigned to the kitchen because they get deliveries every day. And I see you looking at the windows – all the windows. It won't work."
"Maybe I'm just curious," Emma said.
"You're a young woman. Play it smart. Do your time and then get the hell out and don't come back here."
"I'm working on that."
"I know how it is with girls like you," Jelly went on. "That lost look. You're a loner because you've never had anybody. But I'm here for you, hon," she said. "We can be your family for a while. We can all take care of each other."
Emma looked up, stony-faced. "I have a family."
"Maybe you do," she amended, "But nobody's gonna get you out of here, hon. There's nobody slick enough to do it. And if they are, they're not the type you should be spending time with anyway."
For the first time since she woke up in this nightmare, Emma cracked a slight smile. "Yeah, that's what everyone told me." And look how he came through for me, she thought.
"Oh, hon," Jelly said with a smile. "You got it bad."
"Come again?"
"Love. You're trying to get out of here to get back to your man."
"I'm getting back to my family," Emma clarified. "I don't belong here."
"Don't none of us belong here," Jelly said. "What have you got left? A year? If he'll wait out a year for you, he'll wait a lifetime."
Emma closed her eyes, trying not to let that one sink in too far.
"This isn't my life," Emma said, her jaw tightening.
"It is now." Jelly speared some eggs on her fork. "And the sooner you accept that, and do what they tell you to do, the faster the time's gonna go. Then you'll be back with your family and your man, and you can forget this place ever existed."
She got to her feet, leaving Jelly with a nod and cleaning off her tray before heading toward her work detail for the day. There was a section of fence that sat along the side of one building, and the sun glare in that corner was brutal around this time of day. The cameras over there wouldn't see anything but sunshine for a good twenty minutes, and a couple of hundred yards past the fence there was a large, overgrown area of scrub-brush that bordered the road in, not far from a series of speed bumps that led up to the gate.
If she could get onto the bumper of one of the delivery trucks as it slowed for the bumps, her beige prison scrubs would blend right in with the landscape. She'd have to ditch the orange sneakers, or maybe tuck them inside her clothes or something. She just needed to be able to hang on for a few miles, till she got closer to civilization. She'd need a distraction, and she'd need a way to disable the censors on the fence, and she'd need to make sure she was alone enough to sneak through.
One step at a time, Swan. Emma smiled again. It was like she could practically hear his voice in her head, and the voices of everyone else as well. Family always finds each other. You're the savior.
This time, she was going to have to save herself before she could get back to saving them.
##
Regina sat across the dinner table from Marco, eyeing him warily as he ate his dinner in silence. The last few days had been an exercise in futility. Her every attempt to leave had been unsuccessful, and talking to Marco was getting her nowhere. He treated her like she was going mad, and maybe she was. He was firmly of the opinion that she was just having trouble adjusting to her new life as his wife, and humored her, for the most part, not even registering that she was really and truly, physically unable to leave.
It appeared to be a loveless marriage – thank God. They maintained separate bedrooms and Marco was cordial and kind but distant in the extreme. His only thoughts seemed to center around Pinocchio, and when he'd be returning home.
She pushed her plate aside, clearing her throat gently.
"Marco."
He set down his wineglass. "Yes, my dear?"
"I was wondering if you'd mind filling me in on some things."
Marco smiled placidly. "Of course. What do you need to know?"
"Well, since I'm trapped in here –"
"By your own anxieties," he reassured. "One day, you will overcome them. Perhaps when you have a family around you."
"About that," she said, forcing a smile. "I was wondering if you've seen Henry."
"Henry?" Marco nodded. "Yes, of course I have. What do you need with Henry?"
Regina looked incredulous. "What do I need? He's my –" Marco's blank look set her teeth on edge. "He's my special friend. I'm quite fond of the boy and I think it might do me good to visit with him. Can you arrange that?"
"I suppose that I can," he offered amenably. "If I see him, I'll mention it."
Regina gritted her teeth. "Thank you. I appreciate that."
"You know," he said kindly, "Dr. Hopper would be more than happy to help you with your…issues."
"And I'd love to go and see him," Regina said, throwing down her napkin angrily. "Or anyone else! What about Snow?"
Marco looked at her with confusion. "There's no call for snow in the forecast today," he said. "It's summer, after all." He looked at her with concern. "Perhaps you'd better lie down."
Regina took a deep, calming breath. "I'm talking about Snow White."
Marco shook his head, still looking concerned.
"Mary Margaret Blanchard?"
"Oh," Marco said, his eyes lighting with recognition. "Yes, it's very sad, isn't it?"
"What happened to her?" Regina asked in alarm.
"She's in the hospital, in a coma. She doesn't move, she doesn't respond to anyone – no one knows what happened. It's like she's in a sleep she cannot wake from."
"And David?"
"David Nolan?" Marco looked at her quizzically. "You must be going out into town or at least talking to your friends on the telephone," he said. "You seem to have the latest news."
"But not all of it," she replied with another forced smile. "How about filling me in?"
"David was found wandering the streets," Marco explained. "He's lost all his memory. He's home with his wife now and she's taking care of him."
"Catherine?"
"Yes."
"And Emma?"
Marco's face was blank once more. "Emma who?" he asked.
Regina's hand tightened into a fist. If there was no Emma, and Snow and David were out of commission, who was taking care of Henry?
"Marco, if you promise to bring Henry over first thing in the morning, I promise I'll try harder to…go out."
"Very well," he said, waving a dismissive hand. "I'll be busy looking for my boy, but if I see Henry, I'll mention you."
##
Killian continued to walk the beach, his eyes scouring the sand as he did so. He'd even taken off his boots so that he could feel around in the sand with his toes.
Four days since he'd been dropped in the middle of this accursed island, and he was no closer to getting out of here. From what he could tell, he was all alone, save for the occasional wild boar. He hadn't traveled back in time, then.
He had no idea what had brought him here, but whatever it was certainly wasn't good. Building a raft or a small boat was going to be time consuming in the extreme with the small amount of tools left in Pan's old camp. And once he did get free, he'd still need a portal to get back to Storybrooke. He didn't have time to wait for all of that. He needed to get back to Emma.
He muttered an oath as his toe hit something solid, and he bent over to dig around it, pulling and tugging until it came out of the sand.
He held the shell up, shaking the last of the sand from it, then he walked to the water's edge and blew into it.
He waited a few minutes, and then impatiently blew it again. He was about to blow it a third time when the water began to bubble and churn off in the distance, and he saw the slap of tail.
He straightened, running his fingers through his hair. It had been many a year since he'd flirted with a mermaid, but his face had never failed him when he did. He needed to get a message to Storybrooke, and he needed to know what was going on.
He brushed some sand from his shirtsleeve, and waited until the mermaid surfaced, pinning on his most charming smile, willing to do whatever he had to do to win her favor.
"Hello there," he called out, waving cheerfully. "I'm hoping you and I can have a bit of a friendly chat…"
And then his face fell.
Ariel stared at him stonily.
"Hello, Captain," she said, her eyes narrowing.