Emma brought the girl back to the station. Her decision had absolutely nothing to do with Henry, she told herself. Or the way he'd looked at her. Or the fact that he'd only shouted what she was thinking.
But she didn't like the way this thing smelled, and Emma had learned pretty damn early to trust her nose. And her gut. And both were screaming at her, almost as loud as Henry.
Luckily the street was empty as she brought little Lacey French inside. Emma'd rather this didn't get back to Regina right away. Not until she had a chance to talk to the girl. If the girl could talk, that was. She hadn't said a word the whole trip. She hadn't fought at all either; just sat there, still and watching. It was unsettling, like there was a ghost in the back seat.
She did kick up a fuss, though, when she saw the jail cell, digging her feet in as best she could and Emma could hear her breath coming fast and frantic and shallow. Emma gently steered the girl past the cell, and plopped the in the seat by her desk. She debated handcuffing Lacey to the chair, but decided that she wasn't really worried about the girl making a run for it; between the two of them she'd already proved she was faster. So Emma settled for a stern, "Just sit there, okay? You try to make a break for it, I'm going to have to put you in the cell."
The girl didn't respond. Not much of a surprise there. She simply stared at Emma. Well, mostly at Emma. Those big blue eyes were a little blurry, but the girl seemed to be focusing on her, and she didn't look confused. Emma'd lay odds she could understand.
When she was satisfied that Lacey wasn't going to move, just watch, Emma got her a cup of tea and a donut — because as long as Ruby was deputy, there were always donuts in the station, and usually pretty damn amazing ones — and, taking another good, long look at the girl, stepped a little ways away to call Dr. Hopper. She made sure to go over to the front door, though, and lean against it, instead of ducking into the small kitchen for some privacy.
He picked up on the first ring. "Emma? I was just about to call you. I need to talk — "
"I need you to come down to the station."
"Of course." The immediate answer surprised her a little. He added cautiously, "Is everything all right?"
Emma glanced at the girl, who had scrunched up on the chair, knees tucked up to her chest, even as she ripped chunks off the donut and furtively shoved them in her mouth. "That's going to be a bit more than a yes-or-no answer. I'll explain when you get here. Can you come now? I kinda need you to come now."
"Of course."
"And Archie?" Emma jumped in before he hung up. "Don't tell anyone I asked. Just act nonchalant, ok? Think up some reason, you're smart — "
"Lunch? That sounds wonderful. As it happens, I'm starving. How about I pick up something and bring it by?"
"Thanks, Doc."
He arrived fifteen minutes later with a laden plastic bag that smelled of carbs and salt and grease. Emma, wedged in the opening of the door in case someone just happened to walk by and glance in, felt her stomach growl, and she glanced back at the clock.
Dr. Hopper smiled. "It really is lunchtime. Is something wrong?"
"What? No. Um…" Across the street, Leroy was hauling a couple boxes out of his shop, carafes of coffee wedged in his arms, too preoccupied by trying to juggle them into the rusted bed of his truck to pay them any attention. Further down, she thought she saw Mr. Gold locking the door to his shop, a heavy black tote in hand, but Emma figured he was far enough away to be safe, and anyway it looked like he was heading in the direction of the school. Maybe some of the preschool teachers needed to pawn their fingerpaints. "Okay, come on in."
She stepped back to let him in, and Dr. Hopper's confusion faded when he saw the girl in the chair. "Emma."
"I know. Don't say it."
He said it anyway. "You should have brought her to the hospital."
"I know."
He kept his voice low, just above a whisper — probably, Emma guessed, so as not to alarm the girl — but Emma's gut said Lacey could still hear them. That she was listening. She was too still. "She is a patient of the hospital. You are required by law to bring her back. To say nothing of the fact that she very likely requires medical treatment. Dr. Whale informed me that she overdosed — is that a cruller?"
"Her second one. Seriously, doc, look at her." Emma caught the look he was giving her and raked a hand through her hair. "I know, I know — I promise, I'll arrest myself later. But right now," she said, "I am...concerned about what would happen if I returned her to the hospital. And I need you to tell me, as an official head doctor who, as I remind you, is not treating her so you can talk to me about this, whether or not that concern is legitimate."
Dr. Hopper glanced at the girl, his expression torn.
"I chased her through the woods, Arch. I had to tackle her and drag her back to the squad car, and she still hasn't said a word. She's scared, I can smell it. I know what's legal, and I know what's right. And am asking you — help me figure out how to do both."
He didn't answer for a long moment, and then he sighed. It sounded as if it was almost pulled out of him. "She is frightened." Dr. Hopper turned to Emma and met her eyes. "And you should be concerned."
Emma expelled a hard breath. "Goddamit." Then: "What haven't you told me?"
He told her what he'd found. "I am not saying that all mental health institutions are — are shiny, happy places, but they are most definitely not cinderblock holes in the basement. I am going to have to contact the Department of Mental Health and Addiction Services. Whoever had charge of that place, and of this girl, they are going to have to answer some very serious questions."
"What kind of questions?" Emma demanded, seeing the scars on the girl's wrists in the back of her mind. She couldn't think of any questions that would ever be enough to make up for that.
"The kind that end with lawyers and judges."
"Good." And Emma asked, because it needed to be asked: "Regina?"
"She is the official emergency contact of record for Miss French."
Emma's mouth twisted bitterly. "I know."
"I do not think she can claim ignorance of her situation."
"She can try."
"But I do not think she can succeed." Dr. Hopper hesitated. "I'd like to speak to her."
Emma nodded, and waved a hand for him to go ahead.
He crossed over to the girl in that smooth, unhurried gate of his. Like he was out for a stroll on a rainy day. It should have looked ridiculous, but it didn't. Emma suspected it had something to do with the sense of calm that he seemed to exude. "My name is Archibald Hopper. I was wondering if I could talk to you for a bit. Would that be all right?"
Lacey watched Dr. Hopper as if she was studying his face, and then her eyes flicked over to the bag of food on the desk. "Are you hungry?" he asked. Emma could see the girl draw herself in, but Dr. Hopper continued as if he hadn't noticed. "It's only burger and fries, but there's plenty to share." He went to the bag and pulled out paper plates and napkins. "Emma, why don't you get us all something to drink? We can eat and have a talk, if that's all right?"
"Sure, Arch." Emma glanced at the girl. "Cokes okay?"
When Chatty Cathy didn't voice an opinion, Dr. Hopper said, "That should be fine. Thank you."
Emma ducked into the small alcove that passed for a kitchen and a breakroom in the station, and snagged a couple Cokes out of the fridge.
And felt the hair lift on the back of her neck. Emma was bolting back to the office before she heard it. The clickclickclick of Regina's heels on the linoleum.
And there she was, striding in as if she owned the place, with a hospital attendant by her side. "Well, well, well. Sheriff Swan, this is a surprise."
Emma strode over, stepping between the Mayor and the girl in the chair who'd gone so damn still. "I don't remember calling you."
Regina gave her a pointed, poisonous little smile. "You didn't. Fortunately there are others here in town who are aware of the situation and know their civic duty." She leaned on one towering heel to peer around Emma's shoulder. "I hope you have enjoyed your little outing, because it is the last — "
"Oh, for Christ's sake, Regina — what the hell — " Whatever Emma was prepared to do, and that likely included hauling Regina up by that ridiculous $700 trenchcoat she was wearing and shoving her out the door, she didn't get the chance. Because the girl threw herself at Regina, shoving Emma into the hospital aide, and knocking Regina off her feet. Regina tumbled backwards, crashing to the floor, her perfect polish ruffled for once as she struggled against the girl. Lacey French could not have weighed more than ten pounds, soaking wet, but that was still quite a damn lot when it was clawing at your face and trying to rip the hair out of your head. It took Emma a split-second — and the hospital aide even longer; he just stood there, stunned — but she got Lacey around the waist and hauled her off of Regina. It was surprising, the fact that Emma actually had to fight against her, to hold her still.
"How — how dare you?!" Regina clawed a finger through her hair, her surprise already simmering into anger as she glared up at the girl. "I demand that you take her away at once and lock her away!"
"Are you out of your mind?" The seriousness, the sheer ballsy command in Regina's tone had Emma staring at her, and that had her loosening her grip enough that the girl managed to jerk away and ran, straight past the still staring hospital aide. Straight out the door. It gaped open after her.
"Christ, Archie, check that she's all right," Emma ordered, jabbing a thumb at Regina as she hopped over Regina, ignoring her scream of "Sheriff Swan!", and ran after the girl.
Belle didn't stop moving until the sun was well and truly up. Until she was so far gone from the village she wouldn't have been able to find her way back even if she wanted to. But she stopped now, air raking against her lung with every breath, pain shooting up her ankle like lightning each time she tried to put weight on it.
She couldn't hear the Queen's soldiers. For now. Her father had never had any dealings with the Queen; their kingdom was far too small to attract her notice. But they had heard enough of her to be grateful for it. Belle had heard enough to know of her persistence. And one hundred gold pieces was no small sum.
How did the Queen know she was gone? How did she know already?
Never mind that. The how didn't matter, not now. What mattered was Belle kept moving, because the soldiers wouldn't stop looking for her, not ever. Not when they would have to answer to the Queen for it if they came back empty-handed. What mattered was thinking up a plan. She could keep running, as far and as fast as she could, and hope that would be enough. Or she could find a place to hide. Someplace safe.
If there was somewhere safe. The Queen was powerful, and reason said that the only safe place would be with someone more powerful. And he had sent her away.
So for now, Belle kept moving.
Her breath burnt in her chest. Her lungs were screaming, her leg muscles cramping painfully as she pushed. Away from the blonde woman and the beige man. Away from the Woman. Keep moving. Don't stop, and don't look back.
Don't look back.
She should've remembered that. Because she did, and in doing so crashed into someone. She tried to push past them, but then the scent drifted over her, warm and dry and sweet, and she looked up and saw —
You.
A man. A thin man. With a cane. He stared at her. His eyes. His hands. The thin, strong fingers tightened on her, on her shoulders. Squeezing.
You. There you are.
The thought resounded through her like the gong of a bell. It stunned her. It stopped her.
I know you.
She wasn't sure where it came from. The recognition. The wave of pleasure that was so strong it was nearly pain, and the shock of it had her stumbling back.
There was a shout.
There was a car.
She felt the air rushing past as she spun through the air. Saw the ground racing towards her. In a very distant way, she heard the thud as she landed.
Her mind lingered long enough to notice the wet pavement against her cheek, and the cane dropping to the ground, and the pair of polished shoes staggering towards her. She had...she had to keep moving. The Queen...the Queen was right there, the Queen was coming for her… She had to keep moving...
But couldn't. Couldn't run, couldn't fight. She didn't have anything left to run with. She was very tired. She closed her eyes.
AN: I'm sorry to leave it on a cliffhanger, but I do intend to continue with SoS. I've been approaching this as if it were episodes of the show, so I'll start posting Episode 2 as soon as I have it finished and polished. Thanks to everyone for the follows and the kind reviews!