Chapter 12
Storybrooke 2:50 pm
Arms bound in iron bands, Belle tumbles from the second-story window of the Camelot Apartments just as her motley crew of rescuers charge up the cracked concrete stairs.
"Mother, don't be throwing away our collateral," Regina complains.
"Crap!" Emma exclaims. In her head she scrambles for a formula to conjure a spell, but she comes up empty. Then Belle shrieks and Emma stops trying to figure it out: she sets her sword aside and reaches out her hands. It's a dumb thing to do: there's no way Emma can catch Belle; even if she were strong enough, she isn't within arms' reach of the falling girl. It's dumb, but Emma's brain isn't operating in the moment; her heart is.
And so, apparently, is her magic. Shooting out from Emma's finger tips come long silky yellow strands that wrap themselves around Belle and weave themselves together, forming a net. In mid-air, Belle hovers in the net. "Holy crap, I'm Spider-Man," Emma breathes. She slowly lowers her hands and the net lowers itself to the ground. David scrambles down the stairs and slices through the net with his sword. Collecting her wits, Emma wishes the iron bands away, and they obey her. Belle stands shuddering, her wild eyes twitching between the window from which she's just dropped to the woman who saved her. Archie sweeps in, taking Belle under his sheltering arm and leading her to safety.
If indeed safety exists anywhere in Storybrooke today.
"Emma," Snow gasps in wonder. But there isn't time to hash this out, as David reminds them, storming back up the stairs and kicking down the apartment door. He ducks aside as an energy wave bursts out, sending the dwarves tumbling.
Emma glances at her hands: they don't hurt or burn or anything. She wonders what price will be paid, and when, for this withdrawal she's just made from the Universal Bank of Magic. But she just saved a life, and she feels good, damn good, and ready for more. She bursts through the door that her father has kicked open.
Standing there in Sidney's living room, surrounded by photos of Regina, are the witch herself and her mother, dressed head to toe in black. The sorceresses' hands glow and vibrate with deep purple magic as they stand there amid the trim pieces of Ethan Allen furniture, the flat-screen TV, the wall-to-wall carpeting. It's so absurd, this collision of worlds represented by the contents of this apartment, that Emma wants to laugh. But that's her life now, so as her father Prince Charming and her mother Snow White and her ex-lover Peter Pan position themselves beside her to face down the Evil Queens, Princess Emma reminds the enemy in her sheriffy voice, "We don't have to do this, Regina. Nobody has to die here." She realizes that only death will resolve this conflict, but as a law enforcer she is obliged to sue for peace.
"That's right, we don't." Regina's voice is buttery. "Drop your swords and we'll think about letting you live."
Cora rolls her eyes in disgust and clicks her tongue. "Oh, for Hell's sake. Let's get on with it." She wiggles her glowing finger and Belle appears in a puff of purple smoke. Cora seizes her arm and pushes her in front; to get to Cora, the Charmings will have to go through Belle.
"I can play this game all day." Emma snaps her fingers and Belle vanishes.
Cora tilts her head, as though listening for something no one else can hear. Emma wonders if she's part dog. "Did you kill her? I can't sense her presence anywhere."
"Protection spell," Emma snaps, silently adding a thank-you to her teacher. "But I guess you only know how to hurt people, don't you?"
"Someone's been teaching you since we last met," Cora surmises. "My guess is, as weak as he is, he didn't get far in the lessons."
"Let's find out, shall we?" Regina conjures one of her favorites, a fireball, and lobs it—not at Emma, but at Snow, and Cora is just a fraction of a second behind, lobbing her own fireball at David.
As Bae runs forward, slicing his enchanted sword at Regina, Emma lifts her arms straight out and two baseball bats appear, one each in front of her parents; the bats connect with the fireballs, sending them flying into the wall behind the sorceresses and bringing some of the framed Regina photos crashing down.
"Home run!" David applauds as he sets his sights on Cora.
Just before Bae's sword strikes her, Regina vanishes, then reappears behind Bae. "Who are you? You don't belong here."
"I sure the hell do," Bae wheels about, both hands on the hilt of his sword, raising it again for another slice. "The Enchanted Forest was my home long before it was yours—dearie."
Regina's perfectly mascaraed eyes widen. "Oh, so you're him—Rumple's weakness." She conjures iron bands that snap around Bae's body, locking him in. "I'm going to have fun with you."
Bae pushes out with his arms, and the bands pop open, then vanish. "Not as much as you think."
"That's coming from Emma," Regina says. "She has a protection spell on each of them, I suppose. For shame, Rumple: didn't you teach this girl the laws of supply and demand? The more protection spells you have to maintain, Emma dear, the faster you'll drain your resources."
Cora has sidestepped David's attack. She now studies him just as her daughter studies Emma. "She's enchanted the swords as well. She may possess a lot of raw power, but with all these little stunts she's going to burn out in less than ten minutes."
"Long enough for us to dispose of—"
"Stop this!"
Every head in the room turns toward the threshold, where Henry, a box tucked under his arm, stands. "You're going to kill each other!"
"Henry! How did you get here?" Bae gapes. "It's seven miles from the ship."
But Emma knows. There are no visible signs, but she can feel them, the vibrating coils of energy surrounding her son. The magic in her blood tingles, causing the hair at the nape of her neck to stand on end, and something ancient deep within her—deep within her magic—stirs. Henry transported himself here. Her son has magic.
"Henry, get out of here," David barks, "before you get hurt." And Snow moves to the boy's side, setting her hands on his shoulders to turn him around, but Henry breaks loose and runs to the middle of the room as Snow calls out, "Come back!"
"Mom?"
For a moment Emma assumes he's addressing her, but when he takes another step forward, toward Regina, she feels a stab of jealousy. "Henry, come to me," Emma urges. "You're what she wants. If she takes you, she'll be free to kill the rest of us."
"She won't," Henry says over his shoulder, his puppy eyes fixed on Regina, who is now crouching, her arms offering a hug. "She's good, I know it: she won't hurt anybody."
"That's right, Henry," Regina purrs. "They don't know how I've changed, but you do. You see? They attacked me. I'm just defending myself. Come with me. That's all I want. Take my hand and we'll walk out of here and that will be the end of this battle. I promise."
Henry's head swings around toward Cora. "Make her stop. Make her drop the dagger."
Cora's disgust is written all over her face, but her syrupy voice denies it: "I'm just protecting us all from Rumplestiltskin. You know, don't you, Henry, how evil he is? You've just come from him. I'm sure he told you all sorts of lies, but—"
Henry looks back at Regina, who has stood up but is still holding out her arms, still hoping. "Mom, don't let her kill my grandpa."
"I have no intention of hurting David," Regina assures the boy. "In fact, I like him. Perhaps you could convince him to lower his sword and let us leave in peace."
A low voice corrects Regina's misunderstanding. "He doesn't mean Charming," Cora says slowly.
Bae grins. "Right. Sorry we weren't fully introduced, Your Majesty." He makes a mock bow toward Regina. "Baelfire, father of Henry, and son of Rumplestiltskin."
"Crap," Regina gasps—and Emma grins, thinking how much the mayor is beginning to sound like the sheriff.
"Take Henry, Regina!" Cora orders. "If he really is of the Dark One's lineage!"
"Henry doesn't lie," Regina says.
"Then grab him! The grandchild of True Love and the Dark One—his powers will be tremendous. We must have him!"
"No," Regina argues. "It has to be his choice." Her face softens as she watches Henry. "It has to be because he loves me."
Cora rolls her eyes. "Enough of this nonsense." She points a gloved finger at Henry, and the boy begins to rise in the air.
"Mother!"
Emma starts firing off lightning and hail at Cora, but the sorceress ignores it all, her own protective shield repelling the attack. Snow's arrows and David's sword meet the same resistance. She continues to push Henry up and up, out of the reach of Bae, who makes a wild grab for the boy's legs.
"Let me down," Henry insists. He fixes Cora with a firm stare. "If you're my mom's mom, that means you're my grandma too."
Cora freezes for just a moment. Whatever she's thinking, she shakes it off. Even as the attacks upon her continue and Regina argues with her, she drags Henry forward.
And suddenly she stops. Her magic breaks off, causing Henry to fall. The box the boy was carrying slips out of his grasp and tumbles, landing open at Snow's feet. Snow kneels, picking it up. . .
Jolly Roger 2:54 pm
This is the last room. The marrow in his bones tells him so. He enters without reluctance, without dread, even without curiosity, just an all-consuming weariness. He is, after all, nearly 400 years old.
Like the others, the room is light and airy; unlike the others, it's completely empty. Not a stick of furniture, not a nail in the walls, not a rug on the shiny, hard floor. Not a sound, not even his own footsteps, not even his own breath. Since there is nothing here, there is obviously nothing for him to do here, so he assumes this is an anteroom of sorts; wherever he's supposed to be and whatever he's supposed to do next must lie beyond. He finds an open door leading from the room and he passes through it, into a long corridor lined with other airy, empty rooms. He continues to walk.
Storybrooke 2:54 pm
All action and all sound come to a standstill as the combatants try to figure out what's happening. Cora's face has turned white. She lowers her left hand, with which she had been controlling Henry, and it joins her right hand, carrying the dagger up to her line of vision.
"The Song of the Marines" breaks the silence. Bae slides his hand into his hoodie and withdraws his phone. He glances at it, then looks hard at it, his free hand rising to cover his mouth.
It's Cora who makes the announcement: "Rumplestiltskin is dead."
?
He has walked a great distance, he thinks, and a long time. It's annoying that his sense of time has left him: he used to be able to tell you, just by consulting his bones, what the time was, within two minutes of accuracy. Punctuality mattered to both Rumplestiltskin and Gold.
He has come far and he's tired, his ankle aching, and he has no cane or walking sticking stick to aid him. Still, every room he's passed has been empty. He's called out several times, but no one has answered; his voice doesn't echo.
He's so worn out, he can't continue. He stumbles into one of the hundreds of empty rooms and drops to the floor, his back to a wall. When his mind begins to work again, he begins to understand where he is. This is his eternity: no possessions, no people.
This is his Hell.