There was no way through. The more Henry learned about his mother's curse, the more that fact became apparent. Only the caster could create doorways and even those were ridiculously unstable. Even if his mother agreed to help, there was no guarantee he'd end up in the right place or even the right time. He needed answers, but his duty was to his kingdom and he couldn't justify the risk. Reluctantly, Henry put aside his desire to reach Storybrooke and threw himself into the business of being Crown Prince.
Time passed. Henry was granted his own force of 50 men as part of his command training and they spent weeks in the border forests learning to work as a unit. He hadn't returned to the palace in almost two months, instead learning to live off the land for extended periods. The rough plateau he had chosen now held a makeshift fort and rudimentary defences.
Henry was on lumberjack duty nearby, cutting planks from a tree he had felled earlier to build a stable. A bird call rang through the trees and Henry's hand went to his sword hilt, recognising the sentry signal. He relaxed when a trumpet sounded his mother's fanfare further off and spent a moment straightening himself up before returning to the garrison.
"Greetings, Your Majesty," he said, bowing deeply as Regina dismounted. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?"
Regina allowed a tiny, indulgent smile to overtake her stern features.
"An inspection, Commander," she answered, using the same title for him that his soldiers did. He bowed again.
"Of course. Our garrison is not quite established, but I'm confident you will approve of our work so far. If you please, we will leave the horses to graze, as we have no stable as yet."
Regina inclined her head in agreement and Henry snapped to attention and offered her a courteous arm. His mother laid a warm hand in the crook of his elbow and together they walked into the small fort, leaving Regina's retinue to organise themselves.
Henry took his mother to the guest quarters, pleased to see his men standing at attention as they passed, proud smiles on their faces. Once they were alone, he hugged her tightly.
"It's good to see you, little one," Regina told him. Henry scowled, but he'd given up pointing out that he was taller than her months ago. The nickname was staying.
"You too, Mom," he smiled at her.
"How are things going?" He would give a formal report that night in front of the entire unit, including commendations for three soldiers that had distinguished themselves. This was his Mom asking, not the Queen.
"Really well. We were wet for the first couple of weeks until we got the roof on the barracks, but since then it's really come together. After we leave I'd recommend a permanent structure, maybe a fortified town. It fills the gap from the border expansion, it's a very defendable spot and has excellent access to arable land and the river."
Regina nodded. "I'll make a note. Are you enjoying it?"
Henry grinned. "I love it, Mom. Nobody bows to me or tries to lick my boots. These men respect me. Honestly, I wasn't expecting you for another fortnight, but they'll do me proud, I'm sure of it."
They talked frankly about his command for another half an hour before his mother reached the reason for her early visit.
"Henry, I know you've been curious about your magical abilities. I spoke with the head librarian recently and she informed me you've been doing some serious research." Henry schooled his face to blankness, realising too late that doing so was a giveaway in itself.
"With all this work you've been doing, particularly about the Dark One, I was worried you'd use this time away to…experiment."
"No, Mom," Henry reassured her. "I just want to know where this power comes from, if I can trust it." He raised a hand and concentrated, and a tongue of lavender fire ignited in his cupped palm.
"I can destroy or create, wound or heal, but I don't know why!" The fire convulsed and became a shimmering globe of water. "How can I trust it if I don't understand it? If Rumpelstiltskin- "
Regina put her hand in his, dispelling the water.
"Little one, it comes from you. It's in your blood. The Dark One didn't give it to you and he couldn't take it away. It's yours."
"Is it hereditary?" Henry asked, trying to keep his tone merely curious. "You have magic and so did your mother, so if I have it does that mean my birth mother had it?"
"Not necessarily," Regina said slowly, thinking of Snow White. Neither she nor her dimwit husband could harness magic.
"Do you know who she is?" Henry asked.
Regina paused.
"No. Not for certain." Henry opened his mouth and she raised a hand to forestall his questions.
"I have a suspicion, that's all. I can never know for certain, since there's some evidence that travel to other worlds was not limited to my curse. Even if I'm right, it doesn't matter. That world is closed off from ours permanently. Please Henry, let go of these fears. The magic is yours and no matter who birthed you, you are my son and you could never let me down."
Henry thought for a moment. "Okay Mom," he said, and together they returned to the inspection.
Later, as he lay in his bunk listening to the symphony of snores around him, he planned. His mother had more than a suspicion of his origins, he was sure of it. He had given up on the idea of reaching the other world and had instead tried to deduce his biological parentage through historical records, but the flame of hope had ignited in him once more.
"Closed off from ours permanently," his mother had said, and she'd lied to him. He'd seen it in her eyes. There was a way. He lay awake for hours as the idea took hold of his mind. He needed to know. He trusted his mother that his magic was safe, but even without that pretext, he was determined to go to the other world. Shortly before dawn he crept into his mother's chamber and cast a spell of deep sleep on her.
The magic is in the blood.
He drew a short dagger and carefully sliced Regina's arm open. She didn't stir as blood pooled in the glass vial he held to the wound, or when his magic smoothed over her, sealing the flesh back together. He pressed an apologetic hand to the newly healed skin and left quietly. Regina wouldn't awaken for a day or two, which would keep his men busy and prevent her from following him too soon. He felt uncomfortable with his actions, but the fierce need within him to find answers drove him away from the garrison and deep into the woods.
He found the small clearing they used for archery practice and took a scrap of parchment from his belt-pouch. Dipping his finger into the grisly inkwell he had made, Henry daubed the word Storybrooke onto the paper in his mother's blood. He set it down and knelt, staring at the word, willing it to open the way for him. His magic rose within him until he was bursting with it. His head throbbed, his eyes burned, his hands ached where they were clenched into fists. From the direction of the garrison he heard the alarm being raised; presumably they had found him missing, tried to alert the Queen and discovered her unwakeable. Knowing he had little time, Henry redoubled his efforts. His magic probed at the fabric of the world, searching for a way in through the bloody instruction before him. Finally, just as he thought his head might burst, the air seemed to tear open and swallow him up.
It hurt.
It hurt.
It hurt.
He thought he might be screaming, but he kept his eyes fixed on the word Storybrooke, no longer on the parchment but burned into the world itself. His answers were there. He had to go. He felt as though he were falling and at the same time being crushed and squeezed through an opening too small. He felt himself break and snap and crumple, apparently without moving, as the pain became too much and he clenched his eyes shut. His blood burned in his veins, his bones seemed to stretch awfully as though trying to escape his skin. There was no air in his lungs, so how could he be screaming?
It hurt.
Finally, the air stopped shrieking around him and Henry fell forward, bracing himself against the ground. He took several shaky breaths without opening his eyes, hoping that his men brought a physician with them. He'd failed.
"Are you okay?" Said a voice he didn't know.
His training took over. The pain was immediately shoved aside as he stood and assessed the man in front of him. He wore strange clothing and a metal bracelet on his left wrist. A criminal? He checked his peripheral vision and concluded that he was nowhere near where he'd been. Could the spell have succeeded? If so, could his arrival have damaged the curse and restored everyone's memories? He couldn't allow his presence to become known and he certainly couldn't afford to give the Dark One advanced warning of his arrival.
He couldn't leave witnesses.
He was in no shape to bury a body. He dragged it deeper into the woods and left it well camouflaged, but easily found by scavengers and carrion-feeders. When he was finished he stood to attention and saluted the hidden corpse with parade-ground perfection, then turned and marched away. He got almost half a mile before he collapsed.
Mary Margaret Blanchard was torn. She and John had agreed to watch Alex while Ruby took Ashley and Sean for a night out. After a long and reluctant goodbye from the new parents, Alex had fallen sound asleep and Mary Margaret had realised that she had essentially agreed to spend the evening alone with John, in private. She had watched as he rocked the baby and hummed a gentle lullabye. She had helped him settle Alex in her crib and had stood with him as she dropped off, her sense of warm affection for the infant slowly being replaced with an acute and almost painful awareness of the man next to her. They had retired to the newly-finished kitchen and prepared the meal that the grateful couple had left them. Mary Margaret had felt herself becoming shy for the first time around John, blushing whenever he looked at her. He only smiled and carried on, for which she was grateful.
They ate slowly, at first chatting about nothing in particular but as the meal went on the conversation became at once more sparse and more personal. Mary Margaret had opened up to John and he'd done his best to reciprocate with what he knew. Which brought her back to her problem.
She liked John. She trusted John. She wanted John. She didn't even know his name.
They finished eating and settled on the couch together. John put his arm around her and she snuggled into his embrace without thinking. It felt right. She looked up at him and he smiled. She smiled back. He kept looking at her in that way he had; not like Whale who had stared like a dog at a steak; John looked her in the eye like he was trying to see into her.
"You're beautiful," he told her seriously. She shivered. He wasn't smiling any more. He wasn't anything like Whale, but he was watching her hungrily nonetheless. She put a hand on his chest without noticing how it was shaking.
"John," she whispered.
"Mary Margaret," he answered. "We have been seeing each other for a while now. I very much enjoy your company and I would very much like to kiss you."
She should have blushed. She wanted to blush, if only to have an excuse to look away from the desire she saw burning in his eyes. Meek schoolteachers were supposed to blush and look away when confronted with handsome, large men declaring their lust. Instead she felt her pulse pick up as her blood headed in a direction that was decidedly not her face.
"May I kiss you, Mary Margaret?" The blunt, formal request should have been ridiculous, should have broken the spell she was under. She could have teased him about his complete lack of finesse and the tension would have receded. Instead she ached to feel his hands on her overheated skin.
You don't even know his name!
Normally she listened to her inner schoolteacher voice. Just this once, she was prepared to ignore it, until another, much nastier thought occurred.
What else has he forgotten? A wife? A child?
Her face fell. "I'm sorry, John. I can't, not yet."
She expected disappointment, maybe even outrage. Instead, he nodded and laced his fingers through hers. His body language changed, becoming affectionate once more, and the burning heat in his gaze faded, but didn't vanish.
"Alright. May I ask why?"
"I want to," she assured him, "I just want to be sure. What if you're married?"
John Doe nodded.
"Honestly, I've thought the same thing," he told her, "and I had intended to talk to you about it before…" he trailed off but swept his gaze meaningfully over their tangled limbs. "I just can't seem to resist you for long enough to have the conversation," he said, half joking.
That did make her blush.
They sat silently for a while, letting the last of the tension drain from the room. Some time passed in companionable silence.
"What about Emma?" John suggested suddenly.
"What about her?" Mary Margaret asked.
"Her job is finding people! Why don't we ask her to find me?"
"But we know where you are," Mary Margaret said, not quite following.
"Yes, but not who I am. She found the Tillman kids' dad in an afternoon! It's got to be worth a try, right?"
Mary Margaret grinned.
"That's brilliant! I'll call her tomorrow and ask."
They smiled happily at each other. From the other room Alex began to fuss and John went to soothe her. When he returned Mary Margaret had set up the movie they had originally planned to watch. Before pressing play she turned to her date, determined to be honest.
"I do want you, John." She told him. "I want you so much it scares me. I'm waiting because I don't think I could give you back."
He smiled bashfully.
"Really?" The hope and joy in his voice made Mary Margaret smile widely.
"Really. As soon as we get the all-clear, you're all mine."
She really had to work on the blushing.
It was dark when Henry woke. The pain and dizziness has receded only slightly, but he couldn't afford to waste any more time. He walked slowly back to the place where the old man had found him. There was no sign of anyone searching for either the man or an intruder, so Henry carefully followed the man's trail until he saw orange light coming through the trees. It was too steady to be firelight and Henry remembered his mother describing the glowing torches powered by something called electricity that lit the streets of Storybrooke. He crept slowly past houses and strange, squat, metal contraptions that roughly corresponded to what he imagined 'cars' looking like until eventually he reached the centre of the town. He found a shadowed corner and watched the few people who were still out. Across from him a bell chimed as the door to a store opened and a man exited. He was mostly in shadow, his face hidden, so it wasn't until he turned and limped away that Henry was able to identify him. It seemed the Dark One was either genuinely under the curse, or continuing to play his role.
Henry thought for a moment. He had no magic here and the journey had weakened him badly, so he couldn't afford to confront the Dark One directly. On the other hand, his time was limited. As soon as his mother awoke she would come for him, in all likelihood bringing his men with her. If he wanted answers, he'd have to find them fast, without arousing suspicion.
There were too many people still around to risk going through the Dark One's store. Instead, he slipped away, his mind fixed on the large, white mansion he had passed that bore his mother's stamp all over it. He'd get some more rest and begin again tomorrow.
Emma's phone rang.
"Recovery Services, Emma Swan speaking," she said distractedly, flipping through paperwork.
"Hey Emma," came the response.
"Mary Margaret, hi! What's up?"
"Um, actually we were hoping to hire you." The schoolteacher sounded a little sheepish.
"Hire me? What for? And who's we?"
"Uh, me and John. We're hoping you might be able to find out who he is. Like you found Nicky and Ava's dad!"
"Uh…" Emma thought fast.
You're the best person for the job. They're your friends.
Which means if you can't do it, you've let friends down. Besides, friends and money don't mix.
"Please, Emma?" Mary Margaret's voice carried a hint of desperation.
Screw it.
"Sure. I'll come up tomorrow and interview him properly, and we'll see what we can find."
Mary Margaret's squeal of delight deafened her momentarily.
"Okay, okay!" She chuckled. "I have some stuff to do here, I should get there around six. We can do the interview over dinner if you like?"
"That sounds great!"
"Okay, can you ask Ruby to grab me a room?"
"No problem!" Emma swore she could hear Mary Margaret bouncing up and down.
"Mary Margaret, you know this might not pan out, right?"
There was a smile in her friend's voice as she answered.
"I believe in you."
Henry woke at dawn feeling no better. His head pounded and his body ached. He stumbled from the bedroom and vomited on the hallway carpet. He spent several minutes running his head under cold water and then slipped out of the house that had been his mothers'. The thought occurred to him that it had been his first home too, that he'd spent the first month of his life here. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.
The town was still mostly asleep. There were a few industrious souls walking dogs or preparing for the day ahead but Henry slipped through unnoticed until he reached the Town Hall. He had searched his mother's house the previous evening for any records pertaining to his birth and found nothing. Now he entered what would have been her office.
It was completely different from anything he knew. Back home his mother had an office behind the main throne room that was piled high with books and maps and the ephemera needed to run a kingdom. This room was tidy and beautiful and completely dead. It was hard to imagine his mother sitting quietly alone at this desk all day when all he had ever known was a fierce, vibrant Queen who argued with advisors and met with local representatives and directed generals with confidence and passion. He couldn't picture his mother happy here, even with her enemies under her thumb.
His search was fruitless. He had avoided the thought ever since arriving, but the time had come. He needed to talk to Rumpelstiltskin.
The town was waking up as he left, so Henry kept to the back streets as he made his way towards the store. As he arrived, he saw the Dark One approach, but instead of entering he walked past, heading for the café. Henry didn't waste time. He crept to the rear entrance and used his knife to work at the rusted lock. There was a squeal of metal as it gave way and Henry froze for a long moment, knife at the ready. When no-one came to investigate Henry entered the store quickly and pulled the door back into position.
The shelves to his left held stacks of paper. Every other flat surface was covered by objects that had to be relics of other worlds. He recognised a wooden carving of an animal that did not exist in this place and several more that were legends even in his own lands. Were they proof that the Dark One remembered his past or had his mother simply taunted him by putting his past right in front of him without his knowledge? Henry shook off the internal debate and went to the papers. Somewhere in here were the answers he needed.
They had to be.
Mr Gold finished his omelette and smiled at Ruby's discomfort as she cleared his plate away. The memory of her awkward smile cheered him as he walked to his storefront. He'd developed the habit of eating at the café as often as possible and today it had paid off. Ruby had told her grandmother to expect a visit from Ms Swan that very evening. He whistled cheerily as he approached the door. A shadow moved inside the store and he stopped dead, then limped around the back with surprising stealth.
The door was closed but had obviously been forced. He pressed gently against it, opening it slowly enough that the tortured hinges didn't give him away. A young man sat facing away from him, papers spread on the floor.
He scowled.
"And who might you be?"
The boy leapt to his feet and turned, knife at the ready.
"Where is it?" He demanded.
"Where is what? If you've come to steal there's better here than paper." Gold played the part of the half scared, half angry shopkeeper to the hilt as he thought. The boy wasn't a resident. He wore clothing from the old country, working garb but of good quality. He was well-trained, that was obvious at a glance, but he seemed sickly. It wasn't until the boy's chin rose mulishly that he saw the family resemblance.
Henry.
"Where are the records, Dark One? I want to know where I came from!"
The Savior's son. The Queen's changeling. This was just…perfect.
"Dark One?" He asked, his tone perfectly astonished. "Is that supposed to be racist? I have no idea where you came from, you're the one breaking into my shop!"
Henry gestured sloppily with his blade and Gold stepped to the side, opening an escape route.
"You don't fool me," Henry told him. Gold was impressed by his confidence, but it was obvious that the mystery of his origins had become an obsession. His mother had raised him in her image, it seemed.
"My mother told me that she knew the way to control you. That she kept it close. I'm going to find it and when I do, you're going to answer my questions!" The tip of the blade wavered drunkenly in his direction
The dagger? That was his plan? He'd found that years ago. He tried a scared but sympathetic tone.
"My boy, I'll answer any questions you have, just please put the knife down!"
"Stay where you are," Henry told him, edging toward the door. "Come no closer."
"Okay," Gold agreed.
Henry ran. Gold waited a few seconds and then went to the door. He leaned against the frame and smiled.
Henry's mind felt foggy. The Dark One might not have been pretending, he might still have been under the curse. If so, he would report the break in and Henry would have the law after him. If he did remember, he'd come after Henry himself to get at his mother. His head throbbed. Either way he was out of options. He had to find what he was looking for quickly and hope he could hide for long enough to be rescued when his mother came through. He couldn't shake the nagging thought that coming here had been a colossal mistake. He went over what his mother had told him about what she had hidden to control the Dark One, but his thoughts felt sluggish. He stumbled behind a dumpster and vomited violently. Once he had stopped retching and cleared his watering eyes he saw specks of dark red in the mess he had left.
Mistake might have been an understatement.
He staggered into the street, pain pulsing up and down his body. A figure came near and reached out and Henry managed to step inside the stranger's reach and slash at him with the knife. The figure fell back with a cry and Henry lurched away, brandishing his knife at the blurred forms of the people who came near.
"I'll kill you all if I have to, traitors!" He screamed hoarsely. He turned and ran as fast as he could manage as a crowd gathered around the body lying prone on the ground and the dark stain under it spread until it reached the drain nearby.
Emma's cell phone rang.
"Emma Swan," she answered.
"Emma, Emma, oh God, you have to come!" Mary Margaret was sobbing and could barely get the words out.
"Whoa, what's wrong?" Emma demanded.
"There's…oh God, there's…" More sobbing, and then rustling as the phone was passed over.
"Emma?"
"Doctor Whale? What the hell-"
"Sheriff Graham is dead. There's some guy, a drug addict or something, he stabbed him. He threatened to kill us all and we can't find Marco or Doctor Hopper. We don't have a Sherriff, we need you!"
Emma sat in shocked silence for a moment.
"I'm on my way. Call the state police!"
Emma hit the end call button, grabbed her keys and tore out of the office.
Henry kicked down the boarding over the library door and stormed in. The dizziness and nausea were passing but he had lost sensation in his left arm and his heart was racing. Distantly he wondered why he wasn't just finding a place to hole up until his mother arrived, but the thought was forgotten almost as soon as he had it. His fevered mind could not release the idea of getting his answers.
"Where are you?" He screamed in frustration.
Emma hit the 93 at high speed. Luckily, traffic was light and her truck wove in and out of the few cars on the road without too much danger. Her cell rang again and she slapped the Bluetooth headset she was wearing hard enough that her ears rang.
"Yeah?"
"Emma, what the hell?" Came Mike's voice. "Jamie said you ran out of the office like there were hellhounds on your tail!"
"Emergency. Can't talk. I'll call you ASAP."
"You need backup?"
"Might. Keep your phone on. Mike?"
"Yeah?"
"If I call, bring guns."
Hours of searching had failed. He'd stayed too long. Word had spread about the attack and a search had begun. The kicked-in door was obvious. A mob had gathered outside the library and Henry couldn't get through them all. He swayed briefly as he thought through his options, then fumbled at the pouch on his belt. He retrieved flint and steel, but it took him several tries to strike properly as the numbness in his arm began to spread across his chest.
The paper he had torn from several books took three strikes to catch and he nursed the infant flame carefully. As it began to spread he retreated to a nearby window. The crowd noticed the fire and began to panic, spreading out and focussing on the new threat. Henry waited for the fire to begin to spread out of control, smashed the window with a chair and clambered through, dropping heavily to the ground on the other side. He tasted the coppery tang of blood at the back of his throat.
You're dying, came a tiny voice from the back of his mind. You should give up.
I can't, he told it, and felt panic rise within him at the realisation. The compulsion to keep searching was controlling him and he would stop at nothing. He had to keep going.
A sliver of glass fell from the battered window frame, slicing at his arm. He heard a screech from in front of the library and then raised voices. Blood dripped from his arm onto his shoe.
Emma took the Storybrooke turning on two wheels. Black smoke was visible over the treetops. The truck raced down the long road into town and squealed to a halt in the main square. Emma jumped out of the truck and ran over to where several people were staring at the flames coming from the library. Mr Gold was leaning against a lamppost nursing a black eye. Emma saw a bandage across his arm. A hand caught her arm and she spun to see Ruby, sweat stained and sooty.
"What the fuck is going on?" Emma demanded.
"We think the guy is in there. He attacked Mr Gold in his store and killed Graham as he was coming out."
"Where are the state police?"
"What?" Ruby frowned.
"I told Whale to call them! Where are they?"
"I don't… it doesn't matter, Emma. They're not here! We need your help!"
Emma took a breath.
"Mary Margaret said the guy was an addict?"
"I don't know, maybe."
"Where is she?"
"She went back to the school, the kids, you know? John's with her."
"Who saw him? Who's seen him?" She yelled to the crowd. "Where's the goddamn fire engine?" She demanded of Ruby.
"It's coming."
"Who's seen this guy?" Emma yelled again. "What does he look like?"
Nobody seemed to know. There was a crash from inside the library and Emma's skin began to prickle.
"Everybody get back!"
Emma went to her truck and grabbed her taser and collapsible baton. The hairs on her arms stood up as the air seemed to fill with static. She turned around in time to see a boarded-up window explode outward.
Along the side of the building someone was coming. He had one hand on the wall to steady himself and the other held a bloody knife. She heard several screams as people retreated from the figure. Emma ran towards him.
Her feet seemed to kick up sparks as she ran. The air around her snapped and popped with electricity. The man seemed to recoil as though he felt it too, but then he grinned widely, showing teeth stained with blood. His eyes met Emma's and she stopped dead.
"Neal?" It couldn't be him. Not here.
The world tore open.
Emma was knocked to the ground and several others were thrown backward. When she looked up she couldn't believe her eyes. There was a gap in the air. Men dressed like renaissance fair rejects were streaming through it and behind them Emma could see a small wooden construction on the outskirts of a forest. She blinked as the first men through punched, kicked and shoved the crowd away. A few drew swords but were called off by another, who seemed to be in charge. Others carried crossbows and pole arms.
The last group through the…whatever it was were guarding someone. Emma couldn't get a clean look. Six or seven of them surrounded the man who had killed Graham, the man who looked like Neal, and propped him between them. Once they had him, an order was issued and the group turned to go back through. The man screamed and tore free of their grip.
I can't go back!" His voice broke horribly as energy arced from him to the awful gap in the world. The group guarding the figure at the back were thrown forward as the gap flickered and snapped shut.
There was a moment of awful silence.
"Henry!" Came a woman's voice from inside the guard group. Emma's taser hung limp at her side as she watched the woman push her way through the soldiers and grasp the man who couldn't be Neal by the shoulders.
"What did you do?" She demanded. Behind them, another window blew out and burning timber began to rain down. The man who wasn't Neal collapsed.
"Your Majesty," one of the soldiers called. "We must retreat!"
The soldiers formed up around the two figures and orders were given. The group moved back, retreating behind the library. A few members of the crowd began to follow and the woman's voice rang out.
A guy Emma vaguely recognised from the hardware store fell to the ground, an arrow in his chest. The crowd surrounded him and the soldiers retreated as the library began to collapse, blocking any further pursuit.
Emma's head swam. Beside her, Ruby was saying her name over and over.
"Emma. Emma. Emma." The waitress was shaking.
"Emma. That was Mayor Mills."