Once Upon A Time Was Wednesday
By EnigmaSphinx
Chapter Six
A/N: Is everyone having fun? I certainly hope so. A little history in this chapter, just so that you understand the world this takes place in.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of OUAT. The show and its characters belong to their respective owners. I make no money off this enterprise and I respectfully pay homage to the original creators with my little scribblings.
As quickly as the sky darkened so ominously, it cleared and the celebration picked up again. Shayde and Jefferson opted to go home, despite David and Mary Margaret's invitation to go to Granny's and continue their conversation over something more substantial than cotton candy or funnel cakes. Emma Swan watched them go, her eyes speculative, before turning back to her roommate. The sheriff made her excuses shortly after and went about her business.
It was a while later that she finished with the town fair and made her way to Granny's for some food. She was unsurprised to find that Mary Margaret and David had already left the diner but her gaze fell upon a slender man sitting in a booth alone, Emma walked over to him, finding Mr. Gold staring out the window, his fingers lightly grasping a glass of what looked like whiskey. As Emma's shadow fell across him, Gold looked up with a wistful smile.
"Sheriff Swan," he said politely.
"Mr. Gold." Without waiting for an invitation, Emma slid into the other side of the booth and waved a hand at Ruby. "I'll have what he's having," she called over. Gold's eyebrows rose about a half inch closer to his hairline. Emma focused her attention on him, giving him a smile. "Weirdest damn weather today, wasn't it?"
"It was odd," he agreed as Ruby brought Emma's drink to the table. She also brought the bottle and placed it quietly next to the glass before hurrying off. Emma picked up her glass and tipped it slightly toward Mr. Gold.
"To your health."
"And yours," he replied, copying her gesture. They each took a sip and Emma gasped at the sharp taste.
"Woo," she said hoarsely. "Good stuff."
Gold's smile deepened. ""Indeed," he said agreeably. Emma took another swig of the whiskey and shook her head.
"So," she said, studying her glass. "What are you thinking about this evening?"
"Well…" Gold fell silent, looking at his own glass thoughtfully as silence fell between them. Emma took up the bottle, refilling her glass.
"Deep thought, that," she observed drily. The comment startled a low laugh from the other side of the booth. Emma smiled faintly, watching the ice swirling in her drink with hooded eyes. "What's the deal with Jefferson Milliner's new girlfriend?"
He shook his head. "She seems a nice enough young woman."
Emma didn't look up from her glass, instead running her finger around the rim thoughtfully. "Really?" she murmured. "Nothing else?"
"I'm not certain what you mean," Gold said.
"Yes, you do." Emma continued to run her finger around the glass' rim, her attention fixed on the action. "I am hoping that you will be honest with me, Mr. Gold. I have a pretty good idea that you know what she is even if you aren't exactly sure who she is. I am damn certain that she knows you." She looked up as she delivered the last line but Gold didn't flinch. He met her questioning gaze with his calm dark eyes, his face enigmatic.
"I don't see how that's possible, Sheriff. She's new in town, after all."
"I don't know," Emma admitted. "Sometimes, in Storybrook, people forget the oddest things. Sometimes the strangest things at the most peculiar times…" She watched him as she said it, feeling out his reaction. He studied his own drink for a long moment before lifting it to his lips. "It's weird," she continued. "Almost like magic, I guess… Or should I get three guesses?"
Gold choked on the swallow of whiskey, sputtering as Emma watched him without concern. He lifted his eyes to her face, peering at her through tears. She arched one brow at him, dangerously close to gloating. "Well," he whispered, his voice rough. "I didn't see that coming."
She leaned toward him conspiratorially. "Good. Because if you didn't, then there's every chance Regina didn't either."
Several Months Earlier
Emma leaned down toward her son's ear. "Henry," she whispered. "If the curse is broken, why didn't everyone go back?"
"I don't know," he said. The nurse in the room dropped a tray, the metal clattering on the hospital floor. Emma turned to her at once.
"Is everything alright?" The nurse didn't answer, her gaze riveted upon something outside the window. Emma followed her gaze and saw huge purple clouds approaching. Like the Nuees Ardente of an active volcano, the advance of superheated gases and ash that signals the eruption, it swept between the houses and down the streets. "What the hell is that?" she asked. Henry, who had come to stand beside her, answered.
"Something bad."
Emma tugged her son away from the window, tearing her eyes from the approaching cloud. Part of her simply wanted to watch it in wonder (was that magic?) but the rational part of her brain was desperate to escape that oncoming danger, to hide her child and keep him safe. She dragged him into a supply closet and pushed him to the floor, ignoring his protests as she put herself between him and the door. If that cloud was dangerous, she would take the brunt of it before she let her son suffer.
Moments later, she felt it hit the building. Not a physical blow but something that shuddered over her skin and keened in her ears as the pressure in the room changed. Henry cried out, panicked, but Emma held him tightly, her eyes closed as the sensation roared through her for what seemed like an eternity. She couldn't see or hear anything except the sound of her heart pounding in her ears.
After a while, she opened the door cautiously and peeked out. People were standing where they had been, frozen in place, as the purple haze swirled outside the window. It was in the room as well, a faint filmy presence in the air, and Emma's nose wrinkled as she caught a scent that teased her memories. Where had she smelled that before?
Before she could answer that, there was a silent explosion somewhere, everywhere that shivered over Emma's skin and into her bones. It lasted only a moment and was gone. She shuddered, wondering what was coming next. The haze was already dissipating, but there was still a tremor that set Emma's teeth on edge. She turned to look at her son. Henry was sitting where she'd left him but there was a strange look on his face, his eyes staring into space without really seeing anything.
"Hey, kid," she called out to him. "What is it?"
"I fell," he said dully. "I fell off the playhouse at the playground…"
"When did that happen?" Emma asked.
"I hit my head. That's why I'm at the hospital." His eyes turned to her, still vague, almost dreamy. "My mom is coming to pick me up."
Emma helped him to his feet but it was like shifting a sleepwalker. Henry staggered to his bed and she helped him get into it, watching him worriedly until he was settled. The nurse who'd seen the purple cloud first was still staring out the window, as still as a statue. Emma went over and touched the woman's arm.
"Hey," she said to the nurse. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," the nurse answered in the same dreamy tone Henry had used. "The mayor will be so worried about her son. I'm glad it was nothing serious." She focused on Emma's face, becoming more animated. "Sheriff Swan," she continued, as if seeing Emma for the first time. "When did you get here?"
Minutes later, Regina came into the room as though nothing was out of the ordinary. She rushed to Henry's bedside, her face a mask of distress. No one said anything about her appearance. Even the Mother Superior greeted the mayor politely, without any reference to her earlier threat that Regina should find a place to hide. Emma realized that something had changed and she assumed that it was the magic of the Evil Queen at work. She quickly made her expression dull and slowly pretended to come to herself as Regina doted on Henry. If Regina looked at Emma any differently, Emma kept her expression as blank as possible and Regina took Henry home.
Present Day
Emma knocked back the rest of her drink and grinned at Gold. "I'd like to talk to you about this but I don't think this is the place, do you?" she asked with a conspiratorial wink. He shook his head and downed the rest of his.
"My dear Emma," he said. "Would you perhaps be kind enough to see me home? I would truly love to discuss this with you further."
"Why, Mr. Gold," she said lightly. "Are you inviting me to see your etchings?" She batted her eyes at him flirtatiously. "I'll be happy to walk you home."
At Jefferson's house
Shayde had set about preparing dinner while Jefferson went back to his workroom for a little while. She cooked in silence, lost in thought, as she bustled about the kitchen. Only when dinner was ready for the table did Jefferson join her again.
"You went to see him," he said suddenly. Shayde looked up from her dinner in surprise.
"I did," she agreed. "Were you watching?"
"No." He studied her, his head tilted a little to one side, his eyes intent on her face. "You're different somehow. Did he hurt you?"
"Not at all," she exclaimed. "Why would you think that?"
"You don't seem happy."
"Ah, well, that," she said softly. "He didn't know me." She reached for her glass of wine and sipped it. "I'm fairly certain I know why now."
"Oh?"
"I think that, in the world he comes from, your world, I must be dead. Just as he is dead in my world."
Jefferson looked horrified. "Why would you think that?" he asked, aghast.
"It's complicated," she demurred. "And I might be wrong."
"How can you find out?"
"Ugh." Shayde grimaced. "That would entail visiting the nuns. Sadly impossible, I fear."
"What do you have against the fairies?" Jefferson asked, pouring her more wine. Shayde slanted a smile at him, her eyes a brilliant green.
"Aside from the fact that they are annoyingly insipid little busybodies who use their meager magic to grant wishes and confer favors in the hopes of hiding the reality that they are really backstabbing cannibalistic bitches without souls?" She sipped her wine. "Not much, I suppose."
Jefferson, who had made the mistake of sampling his own glass, choked and spluttered at her reply. "Would that be a whole species then?" he asked when he'd caught his breath.
"As a whole species," she agreed somberly. "They have tried to hide their history from the people they choose to help but it doesn't change what they really are." She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "The legends are out there in this world," she continued. "I looked them up on your computer. People know how dangerous they are, they just don't understand the reality behind the legends."
"What do you mean?"
Shayde sat back in her chair, cradling her wine in her slender fingers. "Oh, my dear Jefferson," she said. "I was born Fae. A half-blood, mind you, but Fae all the same. The fairies spring from the Fae but never equaled my kind. Trust me when I tell you that no mortal court has been as rife with cruelty and corruption as the Fae courts. They never liked low born Fae and they really despised half-bloods." She peered into the depths of her glass darkly. "How fortunate for me that I was both."
"You are related to the fairies?" he asked her. "You don't like them because they treated you badly?"
"I am only related to them by my mother. She was little more than a courtesan in the Unseelie or Dark Court. There are fairies that descend from the same line, just as some descended from the Seelie or Light Court." Shayde shrugged. "The names really don't mean anything anymore. The Dark Court was supposed to be primarily opposed to the human race, prone to doing evil and malicious things to mankind. The Light Court could be benevolent but their gifts were often cruel or tricky. They didn't have much use for mortal morality." She sighed. "My mother took mortal lovers when she pleased and she ruined many a man's life when she tired of him. I have no idea who or even what my father was, only that he gave me a gift that made me more unwelcome among my mother's people than my status or my tainted blood." She smiled mirthlessly. "Somehow he made me immune to iron."
The hatter frowned at her. "But I thought iron was deadly to fairies. Was it deadly to the Fae?"
"Indeed it was," she admitted. "They didn't know at first that I could touch iron and live. My mother found that her lover wanted a mortal child and she exchanged me with some one's baby. I should have died soon after, most changelings do, but I didn't. I grew older and stronger in my little village." Shayde smiled as she remembered her childhood. "The Fae didn't realize that I'd lived until much later. I discovered the village smithy and I learned to work iron in the forge. I have the strength and endurance of my mother's people and I mastered the working of iron easily. I was able to imbue iron with my own natural magic, things like needles that threaded themselves or pots that would never boil over or dry… Simple things, really, until I started making weapons. That is when the Fae realized that I was still alive and doing something they didn't want me to do." She shifted uncomfortably. "I made a few things before they realized how dangerous my magic was. I made an arrow that never missed its target, a sword that kept its edge no matter how heavily it was used. The Fae found me and they threatened me."
Jefferson leaned forward, watching her face. "You were making things that were deadly for them."
"Yes. And there is great power in handling something so deadly to others but not suffering for it. The things I made, they couldn't hurt me. Not only were they iron and weapons, but I was immune to them as well. Iron will not kill me. I can be hurt by it but not permanently. I will always recover."
"What happened, Shayde?" her companion asked. "They had to stop you, didn't they?"
She closed her eyes and told him the rest of the story.
"There was a Dark Fae who threatened to punish me if I didn't stop working iron and giving mortals Fae-magicked items. I didn't listen. I was young and stupid. To teach me a lesson, he killed the smith's son and placed him as a warning to the village. The smith killed himself in his grief and the village was in turmoil. I was so angry and vengeful that I made…" She shuddered. "No matter that. The Fae imprisoned me as a result, forcing me to pay for my crimes against them forever. Eventually the Fae died out, leaving only the fairies behind with their vapid wands and chirping optimism. The Light and Dark courts are gone, but I am still imprisoned by the curse they laid upon me. I will be until my master frees me." She opened her eyes and they were full of grief and loss. "I am so very old," she confided. "But I almost forgot that today." She smiled at him. "Thank you for that."
He smiled back at her. "You are welcome, Shayde. I enjoyed my day with you as well."