The Jumper

During the knife fight that ensued between John and Gisborne, Bae focused on Gisborne and tried to assess his particular magical strengths and weaknesses. He felt similar to the Sheriff, of that Bae was fairly sure, but beyond that, he honestly had no idea. He pursed his lips and continued to watch John and Gisborne. If this got ugly, he had to be among the first to know.

Finally, they reached a stalemate, and Bae took aim directly at Gisborne's head. Gisborne turned into a cloud of dust just as the arrow was due to make contact, and it thunked into a tree. John stumbled forward and looked around. "I thought I told you to run," he said to Bae as the latter stepped out from behind the tree to retrieve his arrow.

Bae slipped the arrow into his quiver and looked at Robin's body. "We'd better take him with us," he said.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"If anyone can fight someone like that, it's me. I should be asking you what you were thinking."

John raised his fist to backhand Bae across the head when Morraine's voice rang out. "Stop," she said, stepping out from behind the tree and holding the sword parallel to the ground. John lowered his hand and turned toward her. "I was charged with keeping him," she said. "Don't risk both of our lives."

"Who charged you?" John asked.

"His name is Rumpelstiltskin."

Bae gasped. "There it is again."

"There's what?" they both asked him.

"It's gone now. I felt another thread. Rumpelstiltskin and I used to communicate this way for a brief while, before I found myself here. Someone in Storybrooke is making efforts to reach us."

OUAT

Pinocchio was a teenager and had chosen the name August Wayne Booth when he had just rode his thumb into the middle of Kansas. He was starving, and for two hours he hadn't seen a car for miles, so he picked a direction and started walking.

Kansas, or at least this part of it, was exactly as everyone said it would be: nothing but prairie as far as the eye could see. It really was somewhat of a shock to him to see a farm house out here, so far away from anywhere and anyone, but he started toward it, anyway, hoping it hadn't been abandoned for very long.

A great dog began to bark and growl at him, and a woman stepped onto the porch, rifle aimed squarely between his eyes. "Who are you?" she demanded. The Boy Who Lied was suddenly compelled to tell the truth. In a rush, he blurted out his entire life story, after which the woman turned to the dog and said, "Toto, stop." The dog backed down.

"Are...are you Dorothy?" he asked.

"D," she replied, resting the gun on her shoulder. "Hate to break it to you, but the stories you've heard are probably wrong."

"Yeah, I figured as much."

"Okay," she said after a moment. "Come in. You look like you could use a place to stay for a while."

"Thanks."

OUAT

D was now one of August's few good friends and the only person he knew who could help with Peter's predicament, and that of his traveling companions, wherever and whenever they were.

He turned onto yet another side street and glanced over his shoulder at the horizon. It was still dark, and the roads were still relatively deserted. So far, he carried no risk of anyone finding out his dirty little secret, anyone he didn't want to, at least. Anyone that didn't already know, and so far that was only a few people, those that comprised D's network of realm jumpers. He knew they could keep a secret. That was how the world didn't completely flip out over the idea of magic definitively existing and there being other realms and the land of Faerie existing and whatnot.

The thought was somewhat of a comfort to him, and with it in mind, he turned a corner.