The fog was so thick, no one could see more than a few inches in front of them. Navigating was out of the question. But then again, they weren't responsible for navigating.
Regina sat beside Henry, Robin directly behind. She wasn't sure if it was the rocking of the boat, or the life she carried disagreeing with a place of death, but Regina was sick. Her color was pale and her eyes were dark and watery. She held the underside of her belly with both hands the entire journey, as if that were enough to keep her daughter safe.
Shortly after they'd traveled out of the small Storybrooke pond, Emma had passed out. She lay still and silent on the deck, watched over by her parents.
Regina let out a sigh, watching as the blonde began to stir, and she swallowed, her eyes falling closed.
"Regina," Robin said softly, reaching forward to touch her knee gently.
She shook her head to let him know she was alright, and grabbed hold of the side of the boat, bracing herself, anchoring herself. The movement in her belly was strange now — still unquestioningly her daughter — but there was a slow fogginess to it as well now. Eyes still closed, she silently prayed that this had not been a colossal mistake — that coming to the Underworld would not cost her the life of her daughter.
Emma came to just as they were approaching the docks — the entrance to the Underworld. Regina might have otherwise gotten up to check on her, but her parents were taking care of her, and she was sure that if she stood now, she would be the next one unconscious on the deck of the boat.
They exited carefully, Regina moving cautiously, helped by all three men in the boat — Gold, Charming and Robin. Henry stood behind her as they lifted her up and out, his hand hovering over her back should she lose her step.
They walked the length of the dock together, still unable to see clearly — and then the light was changing, going from dark blue to yellow to deep orange. The fog began to clear, and the buildings looked radioactive — but familiar.
Regina's brow furrowed as she grabbed hold of Robin's arm, her free hand supporting some of the weight of her belly. This was Storybrooke. Except it wasn't at all.
"I don't think we're in Maine anymore," the former Queen spoke gently, trying to hide the tremble in her voice.
There were dozens of townspeople shuffling about, their eyes glazed over, mindlessly wandering. It was unsettling to say the least.
The clocktower was the most easily recognizable structure — but it was tipped over and crashed in the center of the road. Hazard pipes jutted up from the streets everywhere they looked, and there was a low thrum of wind — and magic.
"How is this possible," Emma asked nervously, leading the group forward, despite everyone's trepidation.
"How does the Underworld look like Storybrooke…"
"Your questions are pointless," Gold quipped. "All that matters is, all these people in this Underworld are dead — and trapped — because they have unfinished business.
A revving engine pierced the eerie quiet, and everyone's eyes followed the sound. A familiar car sped down a side street — and Regina tensed. "Cruella."
"That's right," Gold agreed. "And she's here because of you," he reminded Emma, turning to his side to make eye contact.
"I imagine there are many here because of all of us," he added — and he meant it for all of them, but he couldn't help but let his eyes lock on Regina. Because more than any of them, she was at risk of meeting those who blamed her for inhabiting this terrible place.
"Let's not lollygag," Gold said with a nod, waving them on. If there was going to be a fight, he didn't want to enter in to it just yet.
"Split up. We'll cover more ground," Emma suggested determinedly.
"Agreed," Regina replied, her eyes wandering over the faces in the crowd, her chest going tight, her anxiety rising.
"The sooner we get out of here, the better," she whispered to mostly herself, knowing that she would likely not be leaving this place unscathed. Too many were here at her hand. Too many blamed her for their suffering — and rightfully so.
Locking eyes with some nameless stranger, Regina felt a chill run through her, but pressed on, holding Robin's hand a little tighter.
"Your Majesty." The stranger did not bother to knock on the familiar office of the Mayor — though this on was dark and twisted. "She's here."
Turning in the desk chair that belonged to Regina in Storybrooke, Cora smiled and greeted her familiar guest.
"Thank you for bringing me this information," Cora said evenly, her tone cold and nearly inhuman.
"Now tell me. How is my daughter…"
Since they'd split up to search for Hook, Snow found herself drifting toward the familiar, opening the door to Granny's before she realized where she'd gone. She walked in slowly, taking in the slightly off-color version of the place she so loved back in Storybrooke.
There was a woman behind the counter with wild hair and glazed over eyes, and Snow narrowed her eyes in confusion as the woman began to sniff at the air.
"Is that — I know you," the witch said with a smile. "Aren't you Snow White?"
Snow didn't answer, only let her lips twitch into a half smile that was more confused and nervous than happy.
"Can you imagine," the witch breathed out giddily. "Uh…well, what can I get you?" she asked happily. "Gingerbread? Children? Kidding. Actually, the gingerbread isn't bad.."
"I'm looking for a friend," Snow quickly snapped out of the dazed induced by this bizarre upside down version of hoem. "He would have gotten here recently. Dark hair…a hook for a hand?"
"Captain Hook," the witch agreed with a smile.
"You know him?" Snow asked happily, hope filing her spirit.
"No." The witch apologized. "But your description was pretty complete."
The door opened again, and Snow smiled in relief to see her husband.
"David," she hummed happily — but then she noticed something was off. "You changed. What happened? Is everything okay?"
"Everything's fine," he promised, closing the gap between them and stepping in quite aggressively to kiss her.
"I see why my brother likes you," he said with a grin.
Snow pulled back in disgust. "James."
"So, Snow White's in town…I'm guessing that means my brother is too," he deduced aloud, leaning casually onto the counter, leering at the former princess.
"When you see ol' Dave, tell him there's a new sheriff in town," he chuckled darkly, grabbing his coffee, and leaving her bewildered — just in time to watch David come through the door.
"Was that…my brother?" David asked, equally as uneasy at this place.
"Yeah," Snow replied — but said nothing else of the encounter.
"Mom, Dad.." Emma hummed, stepping in to the diner next. "You find anything?"
"There was no sign of him at the park or the town hall," Snow offered in defeat.
"This is hopeless," Emma sighed. "We don't even know if Hook's here. What if he has no unfinished business?"
"He died a Dark One, Miss Swan," Gold chimed in. "Trust me, he's here," he spat in annoyance.
"Look, I'm finished being a team player. If you want things done, let me do them my way. I may have something down here that can help us." And turning on his heel, Gold left to his own biddings.
"It's uncanny," Robin remarked as he and Regina circled the collapsed clock tower. "It's so similar, yet so…off."
"Well, when I conjured Storybrooke, it was with the Dark Curse," Regina reasoned, tugging at the leather sash of her coat, tightening it — again — as it had taken to constantly slipping over the large bulge of her belly.
"Whoever created that curse — Looks like this place is where they got their inspiration," Regina hummed.
"Or vice-versa," Robin added as an afterthought.
They continued walking, passing in front of a storefront doorway, and Regina noticed a man — the same man who she'd seen earlier — lingering. Watching. Her steps slowed, and Robin noticed the change in her instantly.
"What is it, what's wrong?" he asked, and he was turning to her, his eyes on her belly.
But she was turning, too, spinning to look back at the man who had assuredly been watching her since they'd arrived.
"You. You've been following us," she said with accusation in her tone. "Why."
"Someone wants to see you," he replied, tugging at the lapels of his jacket.
And Regina's heart sunk. She held her hand out and Robin took it, and then her arm, holding her steady — offering his support.
"Mother," Regina breathed out as she stepped into her own office — but it wasn't. Not here. Here it belonged to Cora.
Cora turned at the sounds of her daughter's voice and she began to smile, but stopped, her face freezing as her eyes fell to the obvious and pronounced globe of Regina's belly.
"You're here," Regina whispered, her emotions mixed.
"You're pregnant," Cora replied.
Regina offered a smile at that, and crossed the room, still leaving a bit of distance between them.
"I had hoped you were okay," Regina offered, somewhat sad that her mother was trapped here, and certain it had something to do with her. 'Complicated' didn't begin to describe their relationship.
"I know, darling," Cora promised, taking a step closer, slowly bridging the gap between them.
And then they were reaching for each other. Regina's arms wrapped around Cora's back, and Cora's around Regina's shoulders, and they both breathed out at the impact, holding each other tightly. They remained there a moment, simply allowing themselves the pleasure of being physically connected again.
"I know," Cora hummed again. She pulled back, then, and held Regina's face in her hands, smiling proudly at her daughter. Her hands moved slowly, coming to rest against the sides of Regina's outstretched womb, feeling a pang of joy and sadness all at once in her heart.
"But I do have unfinished business," she explained softly, her hands falling away from her daughter's middle. "And that would be you."
"You don't have to worry about me," Regina promised, hoping to offer her mother some peace — because she was certain this place had offered her none.
"I'll always worry about you. I want you to be happy."
And Regina wanted to tell her that she was — that she had found love, and a family and friends and it was so much more than she'd ever had growing up. But she let out a sigh, her features losing their softness, if only slightly.
"Then help me find Hook…and get out of here," she begged, hoping that her mother would be the key to getting them all home, safe and sound.
"It's too dangerous," Cora explained with wide eyes. "You need to leave — now," she begged.
"I promised my friends I would help," Regina explained, her brow furrowing, begging her mother to understand — and wondering if she ever could.
Cora shook her head and reached forward to cup the side of Regina's face once more.
"Your friends. Your family. They're what's holding you back," Cora offered. "Sweetheart, you must do what's best for you."
"I am," Regina argued, a smile on her lips, ready to explain how much these people had changed her — how much they had given her.
"No. You're not." Cora's tone grew darker, then. "And if you won't, I'll see to it that you do. This is the Underworld, Regina. There is no life here. You will not find Hook in time. And if that baby is born here — it will be born dead."
Regina was stunned to silence, unprepared to hear what her mother had just explained. No mother was ever ready to hear that.
"It wasn't easy, but I've arranged for a boat to take you home," Cora offered. "It departs in one hour. Take Henry — take your thief, and go, before it's too late," she begged.
"Mother…" Regina exhaled nervously, tears in her eyes. "I can't," she shook her head.
"You must," Cora begged. "I know it's hard to put aside all suspicion after how I raised you, but, Regina… Do you remember the last thing I said to you before I died?" she asked softly, her features tender — something Regina didn't quite recognize in her.
Regina nodded, and swallowed, fighting the lump in her throat. "That I would have been enough," she remembered aloud.
"You would have been," Cora agreed with a smile. "It just took me too long to realize it. Don't make the same mistake. Go," she begged.
"What would happen if I stayed?" Regina asked out of curiosity, certain that with ten weeks ahead of her in pregnancy, there was plenty of room to get Hook and get out safely.
"Sometimes a mother has to do what's best for her child, even if it's reprehensible," Cora replied evenly.
And it wasn't an answer at all, but more of a threat — and that was the familiarity that Regina had with her.
"Are you threatening me," Regina asked, backing up slowly, putting some distance between herself and the woman she called mother.
"No. No, no, of course not. Never."
But that was a lie. Cora had made countless threats against her, countless times.
"But there's something I need to show you…" she added, and waving her hand, she brought them to a large and looming cavern. Fire crackled below, and the heat could be felt even where they stood hundreds of feet beneath them.
The stranger who had brought Regina to Cora was now standing at the edge of the precipice, nervously flailing about.
"Mother?" Regina asked, her eyes filled with worry. "Where are we?"
"What are you doing?" Regina exhaled as Cora lifted her hand, fire lifting up from the pit below and grabbing hold of the man at the ledge.
"Showing you your fate if you don't return to Storybrooke," Cora replied coolly, unaffected by the wild torturous screams , his body flung deep down into the pit.
"You…You killed him," Regina panted nervously.
"Killed is….a relative term down here," she explained. "This Underworld — most can only leave it in two ways. To a better place, or a worse one. But you, my sweet daughter, have another option," she promised.
"However, not for long," she reminded Regina, her jaw going stiff. "Go home. Or there will be a cost." And her eyes were at Regina's belly again. "Someone will suffer."
"Who," Regina asked, wanting a solid answer, outraged and annoyed with the poetics.
"Your father," Cora answered.
And while it was comforting that her mother was not directly threatening her child, Regina felt it even more keenly for her father. Because he had been the only one who loved her from the beginning, who had been on her side when no one else was — and she repaid him by ripping out his heart to cast her curse for vengeance.