Chapter 14
Granny made her way from town hall slash court to her diner where things were familiar and she knew what was what. She remembered King Leopold though her King had been George. It was a strange light Storybrooke put on them. They were supposed to be good. George was, save for persecuting Charming like a plague-carrying rat, a good king, a king that worried about feeding his people and keeping them safe. Leopold was, on all counts, a king that worried about his people first and himself last. The tales of the song and dance his reign had been were the stuff of legend, possibly, enhanced by him being succeeded to the throne by the Evil Queen herself.
But when she looked at them now, hard and proper, it was like they were not the same people. Or maybe it was that they were below their post when scrutinized as men, George with murder in his eyes, Leopold with his careless disregard for a girl little older than his own.
It did not add up with the stories of the old world and she found that it threw her off, that it made her reconsider things she was not quite ready to reconsider.
She opened the door to the diner and turned the little tablet to OPEN and did all the things that were so usual to her here- switch on the lights, switch on the coffee machine, and the mains for the kitchen stoves and washers. She found that the routine of this world soothed her nerves. That she liked this place she was at now. She loved Snow as her own. And there were things she'd never forgive Regina. But she knew of being forgotten by the fairies and the angels and the good gnomes at the bottom of the garden. She knew well what it felt like falling through the hands of the world without anyone picking you up. She knew well how hard it was to pick yourself up and keep going on your own.
The Prosecutor, her old king, pushed through the door, announced by the bell over it and made his way to the counter. "Coffee, please."
Now this was new. The Prosecutor did not enjoy her greasy spoon. "Machine's still heating up."
"I'll wait, if you don't mind."
"Suit yourself." Maybe she should not address her former king so lightly. Maybe there should be some more deference. And yet, respect, like all things, was something you cannot demand unless you deserve it.
It was hard to look at her king and see that worth in him. All she could see was bitterness. And calculation because she had lived her fair deal of years and could smell it in the air. Even now that her wolf was long gone from her.
"Widow Lucas, I was wondering…"
"Dangerous pastime."
It threw George for a moment. "Ah. Sure… well, I was wondering when we could perhaps have a chat about your testimony."
"My testimony?"
"Well, yes. I like to be prepared. So I was wondering when you next have 5 minutes, if we could have a chat…"
"About my testimony…"
"Indeed, yes." Granny turned to the coffee machine and decided to squeeze out an espresso whether or not the machine was ready. She punched the shiny black buttons, taking out on her beloved machine an anger she was not quite sure she knew why she was feeling.
"What would I be testifying to?" She had not intended to slap the diminutive coffee cup, but the porcelain hit the Formica counter with a clatter.
"I would expect you'd be testifying to your grievances."
"My grievances?" The old king had style, she had to give it him, all poise and composure, the kind that is written in royal genes. He mumbled an assent while ostensibly savoring the strong coffee.
"Do you remember how coffee tasted like back there?"
"Home, you mean. I don't, no. Can't say that I recall. I find that some of my memories are not quite back. We lost so much our years in this forsaken land."
"30 years." Granny almost pinched her nose at the smell of bullshit and had to remind herself that it was metaphorical. "That's because we did not have coffee. I find that I have not forgotten anything at all."
"Widow Lucas, honestly." George said with a charming smile. "One would think that you are blaming your king for the absence of something that is not of our world."
Granny hated the smarmy smile. She had never seen her king up close and personal back there, but she doubted the smarmy smile was something new.
"I am not. I am merely stating a fact."
"It seems very quiet now. Maybe you could spare those five minutes now."
Granny was not in the habit of waiting for rescue. If she knew one thing it was that some people either rescue themselves or never get anything done. And yet, when young Ashley pushed the door with her back struggling with the stroller complete with baby and diaper bag, Granny was forever thankful to her ancestors, the fairy godmother she did not believe in or any other creature with magical powers that might have supplied this intervention.
Granny rushed to help. "Are you open for lunch, Granny? I just thought I might come in ahead of the crowd, try to get a booth and_" She studied Granny's grim expression and George's carefully arranged one. Her first impulse was to leave. The Prosecutor had been sending out messages to her door every day and she was supposed to testify this afternoon. But the door had closed right in front of the stroller and there was no way she could maneuver the door open before the question came.
"Sit, Ashley. How's the little one?" Deliberately, Granny engaged in baby cooing and baby bouncing and talking dirty nappies in the hopes George would give up, but when she walked back to the counter to place her order at a now busy kitchen, he was still there, still waiting for her reply. "Count me out, Prosecutor."
"Are you passing your right to justice, granny? Are you forsaking your civic duty to protect the weak and the helpless?"
Granny lowered herself across the counter, nose inches away from her former King's nose. She found that invading personal space had a side effect of reducing people to their natural size. "Drink your coffee, Prosecutor, and enjoy it on the house. I find it greatly lifts the spirit. And then skedaddle from my establishment. I always thought that rolling about in the muck is hardly the best way to clean up. Also, I find that very few of Storybrooke's citizens are weak, let alone helpless. Present your case with what you have. It should be enough without you digging into the shit even deeper. And then let justice for that be done. Leave the rest alone, lest you come to find that there are more sinners than this one. Have a good day now." Granny straightened slowly, never breaking eye contact with the prosecutor which told him all he needed to hear.
He finished his coffee and before he could reach Ashley, the crowd swarmed in, like grasshoppers, clouding his vision.
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Nova liked the view of the harbor. She liked knowing there were no limits to that body of water, that it was free to go wherever it wanted, to mingle and change as much, as often as it wanted. She liked knowing that there were other places on the other side of it, places that sounded exotic like Azores and interesting like Iceland or magical like Morocco and a different reality from this one where, even after the curse had broken, she was still not free to make her own choices, to go to her own places.
She liked the smell of the Atlantic, even when all it smelled of was rotting fish and oily water from the ships that sailed by without taking her, leaving her behind where her heart's fondest wishes could not- would not for the sake of the greater good - be heeded. She had hoped, once the curse had broken, that things would change. She had hoped for children to be born so that she could become a fairy godmother, she hoped that Dreamy would come to her and tell her that his boat was fixed and of all the places they would go.
But she had been told that she was a fairy, that fairies did not have love lives and did not sail away in boats with dwarves. That she was too clumsy to be a fairy godmother and she should rejoice the curse had broken, because this was the time and the place and that there was much to be done. She was not told whatever it was that had to be done as if that was a mystery that did not belong to the likes of her. She remained, as ever, a prop to be used when needed, without a function of her own, and nothing but a dream of her own.
She saw Dr Hopper moving quite fast, faster than his usual meek way, and it seemed to her that the reason was the old Prosecutor King was chasing him down the street. She liked Dr Hopper. He was kind and gentle, a little clumsy just as she was. And she liked that his job in life was well defined and that it was helping people. She liked that. It had to be fulfilling. And he did not have to wear a uniform to help. She could not quite see the point of the blue restraining uniforms that hurt her back since her wings were threatening to come out of her body, like a wisdom tooth.
Dreamy clomped down the pier, hands stuffed in his pockets, mutinous expression on his face. She didn't quite know how to feel about him. She remembered what she had felt then but could not be sure she felt it still. What she was sure of was that it hurt, it hurt a lot to remember that he had chosen his mine, his brothers, his work and his calling above her, above taking a chance with her. Above seeing the big wide world with her. She turned back to the sea. Maybe he would walk past her. Maybe he would just walk on by.
But Grumpy simply was not minding the world. He was minding his memories. Of Nova, of that night in Firefly Hill and how he wished forever that he had not been in love. Releasing Nova to follow her path, a path bigger than him and his smallness, the smallness of the life he could offer her, was the greatest act of love he could have ever envisioned. And it hurt like a bitch. Time did not heal all wounds, it turned out. Some remained and festered. Changed who you are.
He could well, at times, pity the Queen in that cell, he could pity her for losing all that she had ever loved. Didn't make her any less of a bitch just like it did not make him any less grumpy. Certain things just_ BUMP. He bumped against a body and considered himself lucky to not have knocked them both on the floor seen as he was stockily built. His arms instinctively circled around the body he had hit, but it was more than just offering stabilization that made him hold on when the swath of blue became a nun's dress and the soft sent became Nova. It became reaction.
"Hi."He should let go. His arms should release their hold and let go. Around them all was water and light shining off of it, blinding. And the smell of the water and the noise of the seagulls and it all felt and tasted like that night so long ago, so full of promise and future. "What the…"
Nova simply let her body do what it would, because the smell in the air of was of freedom and adventure even if there was a scent of sadness that wafted somewhere from the past.
"Yeah… what the…"
Soon they would kiss, soon. It was a twin thought. Soon.
But they let go, arms falling to their side. The proximity remained exactly the same, like trees twisted by the wind, still remaining upwards.
"Hi, Nova…" And his smile was something a little painful, unaccustomed in his face so set in its dour ways. "Hi." God, what a pathetic loser.
"Hi Dreamy."
His smile faded to something more manageable by his face muscles. "I haven't been Dreamy for such a long time."
"My wings are coming back." Nova's hand touched his face, softly. She had clue why she should feel the need to share that. But since when did she do the appropriate thing?
"That's nice…"
"It feels strange. I have lived without them for so long."
Leroy had no clue how to respond to that. It was a nice thought, it was hope that the things you lost could somehow be returned to you. But he liked being Leroy. He liked the freedom of it, but it was not the same as being Dreamy. Nothing was. He missed that part of himself now that he knew he had been that. He held on a little tighter. Maybe some of the levity that was Nova could stick to him.
"SISTER ASTRID" the shrill voice of Mother Superior reverberated through the air. It was a kneejerk reaction and Nova was about to let go of Dreamy until it occurred to her that she was not Sister Astrid, that she was Nova. Dreamy had said so. She was Nova and she liked it. Though she still feared Mother Superior. Blue. Resigned, she dropped her hands and pulled her body from Dreamy's gravitational force.
Words failed her. She simply lowered her head and touched her hand to Dreamy's shoulder before following Blue already walking ahead of her, secure in the notion that Nova or Astrid as she was feeling again, was following her, no arguments brokered. She sneaked a glance at Dreamy. Grumpy. His smile had faded and she could not help but feeling that she had just missed an opportunity.
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Leroy stood, watching Nova's retreating form. Poison. The Blue Fairy was poison. He was not sure how he knew that, how he could be so sure. She had saved Emma by giving them the enchanted tree, and in so doing, giving them all a chance, but all he could see when he looked at her, when he heard her voice, was the shadow behind her clear eyes, something poisonous and hurtful. Or maybe it was just him being a little sore.
The prosecutor marched again up the sea front avenue and spotted him. So there was no escaping it. Confrontation it was. He Prosecutor squared his shoulders, adjusted his expensive overcoat that fitted him like the royal cloak once had. Leroy turned to face the Atlantic. One of these days he was going to fix his little boat and he was going to sail the ocean. It was probably a good thing that leaving Storybrooke whipped your memories clear. Nothing this land could offer him now could be a better option than simply forgetting about all he had lost.
"Dwarf!" The former king uttered. Had Leroy been the sensitive type he would perhaps have shaken in his foundations at the thoroughly royal command.
"Well, since you reduce me to my lowly station…"
"A fact is fact no matter how you state it."
"Last I checked, politeness does not alter facts with its scent. What do you want from this lowly dwarf?"
"Your testimony. This afternoon."
"No."
"You are being summoned, dwarf."
Leroy turned then. He did confrontation eye to eye better mostly because it was the shortest to way from fist to chin. "One: you are no one to summon me. I serve only one Queen. Two: I said no."
"I am the representative of the court, so your Queen summons you through me. The Queen you owe allegiance to deserves your testimony to be heard so she can get justice."
"That's what you're going with?"
"That's right. Be in court at two o'clock promptly. Serve your queen with your testimony. Or face jail for contempt to court."
Leroy smiled inwardly. He was done doing what he was told. His very existence was an act of rebellion. Conforming had done nothing for him. Had only brought him bitterness and a bad liver to go with it. But he was just petty enough to, for once, take one to the chin just to gain momentum. He was going to enjoy this one immensely. And if Snow did not appreciate the humor… well, all relationships had their problems, didn't they?
"Okay."
The prosecutor walked away without so much as greeting or a farewell, head high in the air, basking in the victory but, possibly, Leroy smiled to himself, looking for any more stragglers that seemed to have lost the fire of revenge. Yeah, people would do that. For good and for bad. Fires died down, just had to give them time enough. Such was the nature of the beast: give them a mob and they will do unspeakable things. When that heat dies down and they have to say and do things in their own name, the tune changes considerably.
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Regina sat in the now familiar small room by the events hall slash court room. Henry sat to her right, Apollo bar in his hand, a residual challenge to her parental authority. A year ago, there would have been no way in hell he would have let her see it in his hand. Sure he would have the occasional chocolate, but he would not rub it in. And she did not resent the status quo. Rebellion was a natural part of the relationship between parents and children. Or so she'd read. It was just that she didn't quite know how to be different. Each and every single one of her own rebellions had been violently punished.
She had started resenting the openness of his challenge when he became more open, more aggressive. She had clung to him tighter and tighter. The more she knew she had to let go, the more she felt the obtuse need to cling. How absurd of her. The moment she had let go, he had come back to her.
It was so hard not to cling now. The hardest thing she had ever done. Harder than sitting through Sidney's testimony. Harder than burying Daniel. And yet, hopeful. She "sucked" as Emma put it, at loving.
And yet, here Emma was, carefully feeding her fries she had never enjoyed until now and a milkshake that used to make her gag. Even the burgers were acceptable. No. It was more than acceptable. Fries and burgers that greased her hands and milkshakes that were too sweet were just wonderful. Her life should not have turned out this way. She had always hoped to die a queen, expected to die at the hands of a murderous mob, or tied and burned at the stake. She had not expected to be surrounded by this type of love that knew the worst of her and still sat with her for burgers and fries and milkshakes.
She smiled a private little smile as Emma fed her more fries. She had two perfectly good hands to eat with but Emma seemed to find it soothing to feed her herself, to make sure, she had said. That Apollo bar in Henry's hand was looking more and more appealing with each bite Emma fed her.
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The Prosecutor sat before his exquisitely crafted mahogany dinner table and faced off his expertly cooked lunch of steamed vegetables and poisson en papillote he had no appetite for. No expertly cooked meal seemed appealing. He was too focused on the trial, too focused on the outcome. There was only one which was acceptable and that was the Queen's death. And the bloodier the better. He did not expect a burning at the stake. Snow and her Charming were too steeped in their hippy good and evil concepts. But a beheading would appease him. Failing that, the more traditional American staples of electric chair or lethal injection. Anything, as long as could celebrate a victory. He would look in her eyes before the guillotine blade dropped on her neck and show her who was in charge. The challenging little bitch.
He craved a glass of some deep red wine but was disciplined enough to resist it. He pushed away at his warmed and expertly dressed plate. He had no appetite for food. In his heart there was one thirst, one hunger: victory.
And then he could move on to Snow and Charming and their whelp.
He sipped some ice cold water and stood adjusting his jacket before slipping on his overcoat.
His chef looked dejectedly at the meal and shrugged. Delicacies were wasted on his employer.
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Leroy was in court well before 2. He had grabbed a sandwich at Granny's that he did not enjoy no matter how much hot sauce he drowned it in. Meeting Nova had left him with an appetite only for one thing and that was not a bologna sandwich. He had a coke with it. He really wanted a beer, but he was making an effort. Leroy of the curse would not have. But this was, he hoped, a new beginning. From the side door, he studied the slowly filling court room. That bitch mother superior was already there, looking like everyone owed her money and no one was paying. And the Prosecutor, making small sharp notes on his papers. The Sheriff and the Queen were still not there. Snow was also away. He hoped to see Nova again, but she wasn't there. So he moved out of the room and headed towards Main, trying to catch up with Snow before she got all Judge and all.
He saw her walking down the street, her arm draped over Charming's. That was as it should have been all along, but what was the point of the shoulda coulda woulda anyhow? He skulked between the low trees that lined the street and intercepted her before she turned into the pretty walkway to the town hall, pulling her by the arm with a finger over his lips asking her for silence.
It was like being back there. Then. Whatever. They fell into the old camaraderie I the space of a heartbeat. Snow simply gave him the time to speak. He liked that about her. The happy go lucky girl, always ready and spoiling for a fight if it was coming down wind.
"Your father-in-law approached me for a testimony."
"Lovely. How very nice of him."
"Yeah, thought you'd like to know."
"Why are you telling us this?"
"Because, sister, I don't like him. I don't like him, I don't trust him and if we're about to put people in jail for attempted murder on your shiny little person, then I'm gonna get my big boy pants and I'm gonna slap his arse in jail too because I did not forget how we met."
Snow gave him a quick study, something that would not have been out of place 30 odd years ago, head tilted to the side, looking for and listening to at the same time for things that were not quite visible. "Grumpy, I'm not sure where you're going with this…"
"Look, sister, your step-mother is a piece of work. Did you know that I picked you up and put you in that glass coffin myself? No? Well, I did. And I didn't think you'd awake from that one. But you did. What I mean is, all those times she tried to kill you, what are the odds she failed them all?"
"I'm not sure I get it…"
"Think about you, will you, 'cause you're a smart cookie… Don't you think she could have killed you quite easily when you met her at that stable? Or any of those other times? Instead of giving you the apple she could have ripped your heart out."
"Why are you defending her?"
"Don't get your panties in a twist. I'm not. I'm just thinking. I can think too."
"She wanted me to suffer; she thought death would be too quick."
"Or too final? She could have ripped your heart out and commanded you forever like she did all those lackeys of hers. She could have had you at her beck and call. Or killed you. But nothing she did was ever final. And never without Charming here being there to save the day."
Snow's hand stiffened in Charming's arm, squeezing. He simply rubbed the pressure off her fingers, a gesture he had not forgotten even after so many years apart.
"She brought us here."
"Where you're a teacher. Others got worse parts of the deal. Listen. I'm not saying to go and forgive the hell out of her. What I'm saying is that maybe… pain changes you, Snow. And you said so yourself, she wasn't always like that. Hell, look at what happen to you back when that glorified garden gnome fed you the forgetting potion. You were one nasty piece of work. All I'm saying is that I, for one, don't want to stoke the fire under that stake your father-in-law is building, ok? And besides, he pisses me off. So, you know, I'm gonna do my thing in there. No offense. And I hope that tonight you can look me in the eye and say none taken."
Snow simply hugged her friend. "Knock it off, will you? If people see this, they'll think I've gone soft."
"Okay." Charming simply patted him the back.
"You're a good friend, Grumpy."
"I know you're my king and all, but do you think that we can stick with Leroy?"
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It was either a power play with Leroy or the Prosecutor was just too afraid Dr Hopper might pass out. Or revert back to his bug form and escape. Either way, he counted heads in the witness room and called the shrink to the stand before Leroy.
"Dr Hopper. Thank you for coming in this afternoon. I won't detain you long. Can you just state for the record your identity back home."
Dr Hopper blushed a deep shade of red so intense it was visible through his red mop of hair. "Jiminy Cricket. I was Jiminy Cricket."
"Thank you. And what exactly were your functions in the royal court at the time the curse was cast by the defendant?"
"Just a cricket."
"Now, now, Dr Hopper, no need to be modest. You were much more than that, were you not?"
"That was I what I was best at."
"Dr Hopper. Please, your job description. Modesty is a fine virtue but I find that it wastes this court's time. Were you not an advisor to the court?"
"I was Pinnochio's advisor. His conscience if you will." The Prosecutor leaned against the stand and Archie felt the weight of the threat. He straightened his shoulders. "And an advisor to the court. But mostly, I was a cricket. Even if that is not the answer you prefer me to give. For the record, that is."
Ah, the bug had gumption after all. "Well, then, I find that actually this reply is important. If you were only a cricket, tell me then Dr Hopper, cricket, why do you think you were ripped from your life and brought to this place of unhappy endings? What did you do that gained you the wrath of the defendant?"
"I don't think I ever met Ms Mills before Storybrooke."
"Surely you have an explanation as to why you were dragged here…" The Prosecutor was puffing out his chest. Look at that, the bug had actually made a better spectacle of his testimony than he could have hoped for. Good thing he was an adaptable man.
"I do not."
"I'm sure you don't. There was nothing you could have done to incur her wrath" The Prosecutor eyed Regina. "See, I for one, know what I did to upset her. I thwarted her schemes, I was a pebble in her shoe. So I am not surprised she wanted me to suffer. But why would she do that to an innocent creature. Such as a cricket. Harmless, totally harmless." And he shook his head as if it pained him.
"Actually…"
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It was said stuttering, and the red in Archie's face was becoming more and more violent. Regina's hand in Emma's was calm, a little sticky from the Apollo bar she had shared with Henry, but calm. Her fingers brushed Regina's simply for the pleasure of feeling her skin.
"Actually I don't think it was anything anyone specific did. Pain is a broad sword, Counselor. It measures no impact and_"
"Surely you are not excusing the actions of this… of this… mad woman. Surely you are not_"
"It is customary to allow a witness to finish, I suspect…" George actually sputtered. No, this was not the testimony started two sentences ago. "But I understand – I believe when pressed we all do- how pain can lead you to such actions. How a hurt can be so great that it leaves no space for anything but that pain."
"I know about pain, Dr Hopper. And yet, here I am, not having killed anyone, not having cursed anyone."
"Then you are a great man, Sir. I can only speak for myself. And I can tell you that I am not harmless. That my own pain cost lives. Even when I did not mean to. I was a cricket. I became a cricket to escape the pain and remorse that came in the wake of that pain. And I can tell you, with all certainty, that not even a cricket is harmless. I have many sins to my name, Prosecutor. We all do, whether we like the notion or not. Some cost dearer than others, but no one is without their sins…" Archie looked around himself, as if finally realizing where he was. He gave a smile that was for one in particular, just a way of centering himself. "For 28 years I did not have the weight of those sins on me. For 28 years I could live as a man in peace. You will not understand the enormity of that blessing, not unless I tell you that even my childhood was burdened by it.
"I believe you'd like me- that you've set me up to look like a victim, Counselor. Believe me, I am not. When all is said and done, I can only wish that the blessing of the last 28 years had been equal for Ms Mills too. I can't help but believe that she was shortchanged by her own curse. And everyone deserves a reprieve.
"I cannot think how it must have been like, how lonely to be the only one remembering when all of us got to forget."
Emma looked at Regina. She had not thought about that. The enormity of everything kept on coming at her in small increments, which was probably good because it was all too much to take in. Hell did not begin to describe what Regina had been through.
And yet, here she was, smelling of chocolate, her hand in Emma's, tears pooling her eyes to unimaginable depths simply because someone, finally, had uttered it out loud. Emma took Regina's fingers to her mouth and kissed them softly.
Looking slightly bewildered, The Prosecutor remarked feebly about Stockholm Syndrome to which Archie simply replied "We are all free to make assumptions. Which are, for their most part, the mother of all mistakes."
"The Prosecution has not further use of this witness"
Emma stood but did not release Regina's hand.
"The defense would like to thank Dr Hopper but has no questions. The prosecution's interrogation was quite… comprehensive."
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His lunch was doing strange things in the Prosecutor's stomach. His nerves were shaken. Not badly. This was not something that could not be dealt with, something that had damaged his case. Dr Hopper was not particularly well loved through the town. He just needed a mother with a child and young Ashley was just the thing to hit the spot. Mothers with children in their arms and tears in their eyes were irresistible. Like desert. So, like desert, he would save it for the end.
Not his least cliché move but lunch really was doing strange things to him.
"The defense calls the Dwarf Grumpy."
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Good thing, Grumpy thought, that he was not the kind that worries about what other people thought of him. He swaggered to the chair set out as witness stand and, damn it if it was not a lot like the movies. Not giving a rat's ass about people's opinions didn't mean that he was comfortable sitting there in plain sight of everyone. So he swaggered a little more. A drink would have helped but he was going to stick to the resolution like a clam to a rock.
"Dwarf! State you name for the record."
And there it was, right there, the reason why saved for Snow and Charming, he hated royals, all with silver spoons up their asses. "What, not even a please, a thank you or a good afternoon? You had it in spades for the shrink. Is it because he's a doctor and I'm a janitor?" And he was right in the Prosecutor's face, crawling all over it, in fact. Yeah, suck it up, buttercup.
"Please." The Prosecutor tacked on, reluctantly, but unable to think with the dwarf in his face.
"Feel like I'm moving up socially already! You know what would be really helpful, though? If you dropped the title. I don't call you Human George just for kicks, so extend me the same courtesy, will you?"
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The Prosecutor was not familiar with the feeling of being mortified, mostly because no one dared confronting him. His mouth set in a hard line, the broadness of his shoulders was intimidation enough and he knew how to use it well. The dwarf was getting under his skin and it was upsetting him and giving him heart burn.
He also did not know how to apologize. He was a king, if not in title, at least at heart and kings did not apologize, feel remorse or bothered by mishaps.
He tried hard to think that this was Storybrooke not his court and that he could try to take this one on the chin, but the words simply would not come.
"Never mind. You don't mind me, I don't mind you, deal?" Leroy put the upset behind him. It was difficult to do that without a drink in him. A bit of hard liquor went a long way in the forgiveness process, but he was going to this in the dry. Which gave him a sense of purpose and accomplishment. He puffed out his stocky chest. "Can we get on with it, though? I have places to go and things to do."
It took the Prosecutor a second to calibrate and adjust.
"Right. Your name and you function at the old White court. Please."
"Ah, there you go, not so difficult, was it? My name is Leroy. Some knew me back there as Grumpy. And besides a miner – dwarf is just the way I was brought into the world- I like to think of it as an alternative to mammal- I was Snow's, I mean, Queen Snow's security advisor."
"So it is fair to say that the defendant had it in for you and that in being brought here, you were being punished for that defense of Queen Snow White."
"Yeah, I guess it is. If I'd been casting a curse of that scope, I wouldn't leave anyone behind. You know, just in case they figured a way to mess with my plans. I would not leave a single loop whole."
"Just like she_" and he pointed dramatically at Regina "did."
"Nah. I don't think she thought this through." Color rose again in the Prosecutor's face. "For starters, why a kiss? I mean, a kiss? Really? People kiss all the time. What are the odds any schmuck will accidentally kiss your curse adiós? Nah, not me. If I'd been casting this curse, it would be forever. No redemptions. No loop holes."
"Dw_ Grumpy! Anyone hearing you would think that you actually condone this. That you admire this… curse."
"And you got that all by yourself? Sheesh… I don't, if there are any doubts. But I understand. Which is different. I understand that sometimes you need to toss all your toys out of the pram…"
"This goes well beyond that, Mr Leroy"
"Yeah it does. But the feeling doesn't. Tell me, have you never felt so hurt, have you ever felt such pain that if you didn't turn it outside yourself it would eat you alive?" There was moment of silence, heavy in the room and then Leroy's voice resonated through the walls, through bodies, through the floor. "I know I have. And lucky for everyone, I never had a magic bone in me."
"Let's not generalize, Leroy. I, for one, do not think_"
"Careful where you're going with this, though, Prosecutor. Or I might just have to remind you that your saintliness is not a sure thing. Do you know where I met Snow? No? I don't doubt it. You never spared me a glance. I met her in one of your dungeons. Where you had tossed me for no good reason and her for the reason that she was a kink in your plans to marry off your son to another princess for the price of a ton of gold. And while I'm at it, that wasn't even the only time your tried to kill her, was it? Or Charming. So cut the crap, 'cause if we're gonna point fingers, I have 10 to point at you for that crap."
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The thing about Leroy was that he never even broke a sweat and had cut George down to size. Emma's jaw was open in wonder: at Leroy, at Snow and at the sheer fuckery that everybody seemed to take in stride as if it was bread and butter, an everyday occurrence, a tradition, or rain.
But turn around and it's an hail Mary to run and vilify a single person. It got to her. It got to her nerves, it got to her stomach. It got to her feet, tapping on the floor, a small violence. Leroy was right about that: good thing there was not a single magic bone in her body.
A hand rubbed her back, a soothing motion, a whisper of sorts that calmed her down. Emma was pretty sure Regina would have done that to her horses, that rub down. It made her wonder how Regina would have turned out if she had been allowed a normal life. She would have liked to meet that woman, but she was damned sure she would not trade her for this one. It was just curiosity.
"Hey Leroy, just one question."
"Sure. Knock yourself out."
"How much would you pay to go back home?"
"That ain't home, sister. That was a prison. I'm paying to stay here. Curse or no curse."
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The prosecutor was thoroughly disconcerted by the day so far. Sidney, Hopper and the Dwarf should have nailed the final nails to that coffin.
Instead, here he was, trying to churn down his lunch, barely succeeding in keeping calm. There was the uncontrivable evidence of Graham and old Henry Mills' dead bodies. He would make them dance in the court room if he had to. That alone got her a jail sentence no matter what universe they were. But how had it come to this? Where was the mob when he needed it?
He sipped his ice cold water and summoned Cinderella. Mothers with children. Cliché but right now he could do with a flavor of victory.
As the girl would have left the little squirming bundle in someone else's arms, he summoned her to bring the child with her. He needed it. It was like scraping bottom of the barrel but he needed it fiercely to bring them to their senses. Were they forgetting what they were here to do?
"You highness." He bowed respectfully to Ashley as she walked to sit in the witness stand. It had to be done. He had to remind them because god knew that, on her own, in those tatty clothes and unkempt appearance, she would remind no one of the princess she had been.
The child fussed in her arms and it agitated her. He could work with that. He could work with anything. If she looked pathetic enough that might be a good thing.
"Your highness. Briefly recount for the court what happened to your happy ending?"
"I'm sorry?" It was his day to suffer fools, but she looked genuinely overwhelmed with the circumstances and with the squirming child in her arms. "I'm not sure I understand."
"Well, I was just wondering… you had a difficult life until your marriage. A maid in your own home. And then, through kindness alone- and I stress this point, through kindness alone, you marry the man of your dreams and were well on your way to happy ever after. So my question is why? In what way did you wrong the defendant that you deserved to be brought here for a life of squalor anew?"
"Nothing, I hope. I was friendly with Snow. Maybe that was it."
"I'm sure it must hurt your delicate heart to know that you lost everything because of a friendship."
"Delicate heart?" The child was now openly crying, red in the face against the blond mop of hair and the noise was making it very difficult for him to think. "Let me just take her to her daddy, so she can quiet down."
"No, no, it's fine, your highness. Don't worry." Ashley tried to calm her child to no avail. Snow stood and reached out for the little girl. That's how she imagined Emma would have been. She took the fussy baby in her arms and soothed her with a gentle bouncing.
"Look, I didn't know what I'd lost. So I could not resent losing it. And by the time the curse broke, I had it back. Why should I complain?"
"Well, it seems to me you were a single pregnant mother for these last 28 years."
"Now that you mention it, it did seem like a pregnancy would go on forever. But I guess every woman feels that. And still… I would not trade it."
"You are a good mother, your highness."
"And yet, I had signed a contract to sell her. Yeah, I know, no one wants to hear that. Hell, I don't want to hear that. But when the curse broke, my Thomas was mine again. And I had my baby. When the curse came, Thomas was gone. All because I used magic. All in all, you've got the wrong girl. The curse was not unkind to me. I was what I had been before, nothing more, nothing less. Which was what I deserved. Can I go now?" And she looked around for Snow and her child.
"Can you go? Can you go?" The prosecutor caught himself in time. He wanted… he wanted… he wanted to explode with the whole town. He wanted the destruction every single body in it. Peasants. Peasants them all. And damn them all to hell.
And yet, he was still King George. He bowed to Ashley, something stiff and inaccurate, a little insulting if she'd been so inclined. "The prosecution rests for the day. Your Honor." And he spit the title as he would have a bone.
"Does the defense wish to…" Snow let her words drop, enthralled with the baby in her arms. She looked at Regina and Emma. Maybe a new baby would not be so bad. Maybe she could start again with a new baby.
"Just one." Emma regarded Snow attentively. Snow was made for this, no matter how bad ass she'd been: for babies. She could see it, loads and loads of them round her. And she felt a little twinge of jealousy. "When your Thomas went missing… you said you used magic, but- and I know this is no indication, but didn't think you had any. Magic, that is."
"I don't." Ashley smiled. "Never did."
"Where did you get it, then? I don't know how to even ask this, because I know nothing about it, but.., does it grow on special bushes or something?"
"Oh, no! Rumplestilskin helped. With magic."
"Ah, famous last words if I ever heard any. Gold never helps for free."
"No, he doesn't. He wanted my baby as payment for that magic. He wanted Alexandra." And she looked at her baby with a mix of tenderness and guilt. "And if it had not been for you… And then, back there, I used magic again. To get rid of him. And that's when my Thomas vanished. All magic comes at a price, Rumplestilskin said. But he never said how dear a price it would be."
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"He never did." Regina spoke between bites of her dinner. She had a faraway look in her eyes that was a little scary to Emma.
"Who never said what?" Henry put down his spoon. He had reacted before Emma, maybe because he had less reason to be afraid of the things in the past.
"Rumplestilskin. He never said that magic comes at a price. I should have known. But he never said."
"Why would he? Mom? Why would he?" Regina snapped out of it, then, back into the present of her cell.
"Well, he taught me magic. He taught me everything. Or almost everything."
"He trained you?"
Regina simply nodded.
"What did he want from you? Because, Regina, he never does anything for free."
"He never said that either, Emma. What did he want from me?"
"It doesn't matter." Emma crawled from her spot on pick nick blanket to where Regina was sitting cross legged and slid her arms around her waist. "He's not getting anything further. No one is. Isn't it, Henry?"
Henry briefly considered joining the hug, but he was a boy of eleven, and boys of eleven do not do PDAs. PDAs are lame after you turned five. He smiled, though the worry about the amount of fairy powder available worried him greatly. Specially with all of them sitting behind closed bars. "Yeah. Anyone up for chocolate?"
Regina's hand was the first one to reach out.
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For once there is balance in my life. Yes, I have been hurt. It hurts still. It hurts like a bitch, as Emma is so fond of saying. Yes, I have retaliated with pain. I have hated. I hate still. But this is the time where there is love. I am loved.
How similar it is to a pie chart like the ones I used at the meeting in the town hall. There are big dark slices of hate. Bigger yet, darker yet slices of hurt. But the slice of bright color that is my love grows. And if I keep at it, that slice increases and the others reduce their size. And I have a feeling that if I keep at it, one of these days there might be only very little of those dark slices left and a lot of that bright color. Those dark parts will become insignificant in my life. If only I'm allowed time.
I'm afraid I will always hate Snow. There are too many years, too many grievances. Too much hate. But seeing her in court today, holding that baby, I was reminded that, as any princess, she was born to do that, to hold a baby in her arms and… I was reminded of all that Emma lost because of me, of all that she should have had and didn't. I was reminded of the little girl I doted on and what I took from her. I was reminded of all that I cannot restore or atone for. And instead of glee, of happiness, I felt only that emptiness Malificent spoke of. And not a little remorse as Emma could have had that. Emma could have been loved like that. It's too late for that now. But there is hope. A careful hope that nothing else but Emma's love has given to me. A tiny, fragile, little hope. But hope. Which is more than I ever had.