A/N: Hello all, and welcome back to the first new chapter after my editing binge! I've gone through all the old chapters, cleaned them up, and added a scene here or there for good measure! Nothing groudbreaking or story changing, mind, but they certainly tie some things together. Notably, in Interlude I's Charming section, there's a second half to the scene that's added to clarify some details on the magic bean situation, and Regina III has a few lines added to further imply the cost of magic (during her healing of Emma).
Anyway, onto new content. Hope you enjoy!
A Gambit in Trust
Interlude III
Cora II
She paced. Four steps in one direction. Stop. Turn. Four steps back the other way. Repeat. The motion distracted her, keeping her focus on the next touch of her toes against the freezing floor, the simple practice of moving under own will.
It stopped her from contemplating the shape of what her future had become. A single room, bare but for a tiny bed tucked into one corner and a toilet and sink combination in another, had become her world. Cora could only record the passing of time by the sunlight waxing and waning through the pair of barred windows out of her reach near the ceiling of her cell and the "meals" delivered at regular intervals.
During all of the trials in her life, Cora had found herself without control precious few times. Those had been dark days before she had realized her potential with magic. Before she made the gambit for which gave her the future she had so long deserved.
The lather bracer wrapping her wrist shackled her and Cora bared her teeth at it as she paced. It was an invention of the fairies, she was sure, and no amount of prodding, pulling, or tearing had weakened its hold on her. Short of cutting off her own hand, she saw no way to be rid of the wretched dampening devise and restoring her magic.
She was not quite so desperate yet.
The squeak of her cell's meal slot opening drew her to a stop. Nurse Ratched, the uptight woman and only other living thing Cora had seen these past few days, stood visible through the transom window above the cell's door. The woman always wore the same imperious expression, poised and unmoving, and always looked to Cora with a sneer of dismissive judgment.
Cora longed to wrap her hands around the Nurse's throat as the woman pushed another bland meal through the door. Her fingers flexed as the image spawned in her mind and she glared her warden down, defiant. Something sparked in the woman's dark eyes and her eyebrows flicked up in brief display surprise.
Then she smirked, breathed out a laugh, and left.
Undeniable frustration gave way to an impotent anger that burned through Cora fast and fierce, more intense than Cora knew how to deal with. She screamed out a snarl of defiance and flipped the meal tray against the wall for lack of another target. Greys and greens joined the basic yellow on the wall and did nothing to calm her.
She pressed her palms into her forehead, fingers curling into her hair and tugging. She used the pain to pull her attention away her from her returned emotions, but she could not prevent the oncoming episode.
She had experienced every feeling across the emotional spectrum these past few days, and found she simply could not process them. Every time she felt something more than in passing, it would hit her with an intensity she had no way of dealing with. Without fail, she would find herself broken down into a screaming, crying, raging tantrum until she scraped together the willpower to refocus her attention away from her cursed heart.
Decades ago, she had thought she calculated all the risks taking away her own heart would entail, but she never once considered the thought of what would happen if it was returned to her after years of absence.
Her daughter had sent her into her own personal hell and left her to rot.
Unquestionable rage and a curious tinge of pride joined the medley running the gambit in her mind and Cora sank onto her bed, already sensing her failure as tears stung the back of her eyes.
Why did people want this? The question played in her head and she had no answer. She curled into herself on the hard mattress, resigned to endure her personal agony.
A jarring shout broke her from her miserable reverie, and Cora shot up to attention, staring at the door to her cell. She had only heard the woman speak briefly, but she felt sure the scream had come from Nurse Ratched's throat.
She found herself smirking.
No face appeared in her transom, but the heavy bolts keeping her contained unlocked with a banging thud, driven by inhuman force. The door swung open in the same manner, the heavy duty hinges crying their protest. The opened portal stood empty.
Cora blinked, and stood, taking hesitant steps toward her freedom. Without magic, she would be without her strongest weapon, but there was a chance this was an ally…
Her stomach dropped – a sensation she had not felt in decades – as Rumplestiltskin crossed in front of the doorway. Cora's breath hitched, and the reaction the sight of him inspired flitted through her mind in brief explosions of feelings she had no time to consciously recognize each, and only one separated it from the rest.
Fear.
Rumplestiltskin's expression betrayed no rage, no hatred. He gave away nothing with his cold mask of determination or the penetrating focus of his gaze. Yet when he took a step into the cell, Cora took an involuntary step backward, shivering. The chance she would have in this situation was to talk her way out, Cora knew, but her tongue remained stubbornly tied as she continued to retreat from the Dark One.
When her back hit the wall, a flitting moment of helplessness passed through her, both inflating her fear and making her feel pathetic. Shame gave root to her anger and allowed it to bloom outside the remaining tumult of emotions, battling her fear and transforming into determination to survive. Fierce as any she could remember. Her tremors stilled as adrenaline rolled its way into her system.
"Rumple." Her voice did not waver, and her wounded pride began to mend. "Appearing to me while I'm locked away in a cell? I am surprised by your nostalgia."
"I don't have much time, dearie," Rumple said, invading her personal space. He was not much taller than she, but still managed tower over her with his aggressive stance. "You have one chance to live through the next few minutes, so I suggest you find it within yourself to speak honestly." Fear fought for control once more, but she had learned the trick. Cora doubled down on her anger – how dare he threaten her? – and warded off her instinct to flinch away, raising one contemptuous eyebrow instead.
"A bit overdramatic, even for your tastes, Rumple." His lips twisted into something between a smirk and a snarl, his nostrils flaring. An open hand hit the wall beside her head with such force that the plaster crumpled beneath the paint. Cora blinked at the outstretched limb as the breeze the blow generated fluttered her flyaway hair. "Perhaps you should begin with what you want, or should I begin to guess?"
She had never seen Rumple resort so much to physical intimidation. Worry fed into anxious fear, and she hoped she managed to keep it from showing.
"Hook's heart. Tell me where it is." Cora stood silent for a moment, nonplussed. Surely they had recovered it?
"I wouldn't know, dear." She turned her eyes up to meet his.
"Do not. Lie. To. Me." He took a harsh breath in, held it for a moment, and released it. "It's not with the pirate." He pulled his arm away from the well and held up a single finger. "I didn't take it." A second finger joined the first. "And Regina is too busy playing hero to bother." A third rose. "Leaving you." He pressed his raised digits to her chest above her heart and she could not suppress the shiver that went through her.
She grabbed at his wrist and held it fast. "I did have it," she said. There was little use denying it. Rumple's little pet had retrieved it dutifully, but Cora had assumed it lost alongside everything else in her cave. "It was hidden with the rest."
He searched her eyes for several tense moments and Cora tried her damnedest to keep from showing her emotions, but she felt how the much her facial muscles twitched and knew she hid nothing.
Rumplestiltskin frowned, then snarled out a bestial sound of frustration as he realized she spoke the truth. He snapped his hand away from her chest and a burst of magical force hit her on her side, sending her sprawling toward her bed. She grunted in surprise as she landed and twisted to regain her feet, but her limbs tangled in the mess of her sheets, binding her.
The Dark One loomed over her, hand outstretched and fingers curling as the blankets continued to wrap around her, tighter with every passing breath. Cora tried to calm her breathing by feeding into her anger, but the less mobility she had, the more fear began to overtake rage.
"It took far too long to spirit this away from the Sheriff Station's evidence locker," Rumple said, holding up the double ended candle. Cora's heart chilled at the sight of it. It became difficult to breathe. "I may have to make plans to deal with the meddling fairies for their obstinacy, but I found that it was the least of my troubles this day."
He held the relic over her, directly above her thundering heart.
"I had grown attached to the idea of sacrificing Hook to save the life of my son, but I've lost too much time." He leaned over until they locked eyes, and Cora wished to set his smirking visage aflame. "And you are just as much at fault as he." He called fire to the tip of one finger and Cora tried in vain to summon her magic or power through her binds.
She could not defend herself.
"Rumple…" She tried to add the aloof condescension that had come so natural to her, but her voice slipped closer to desperate pleading. She hated him for it. "You would not have found him without my help." The excuse was desperate, but Cora needed to stall until she could come up with something that would stay his hand.
"That is true," he said, tilting his head with a sarcastic nod. "And if you hadn't, he would not be dying." The wick on the white end flared to life and Rumple began to mutter under his breath.
"Regina!" Cora shouted, not understanding where her argument would take her until it tumbled over her tongue. "Regina will know, Rumple. She's a smart girl." A foolish, naïve girl, to be sure, but not idiotic. "If she wanted me dead, she would have killed me in the cave."
Cora had found that the greatest weight dragging her down since the return of her heart had been her relationship with her daughter. Her returned emotions demanded her to seek conciliation, which filled her with a type of fear that her hazy recollections could not identify, and a hope that left her uncomfortable. Regina had not yet come to see her, but Cora refused to believe that that would remain the case for long.
"Regina does not have it in her to kill you." Rumple agreed. "But that's far different from not wanting you dead, dearie." Burning hot white wax dripped on her chest, and the thin material of the shirt they had dressed her in did nothing to stop the sharp sting. "Baelfire," Rumple intoned, voice deep with the power of willful intent. "Neal Cassidy. Baelfire." He repeated each version of his son's name thrice. Fear strangled her heart as sure as her blankets bound her limbs
"You're wrong," she said, far from sure. Rumple chuckled. "And that woman won't let this go." She licked her lips, finding her mouth had gone dry. "Killing me hurts my daughter. She has proven how she deals with such things." She tried for a chuckle, but she could not manage more than a strangled sound of desperation. "And make no mistake, this is murder. If she's truly Snow White's righteous daughter, it will only fuel her desire to see you brought to justice."
Rumple hesitated as he brought his conjured flame toward the opposite wick. The pause lasted for less than a breath, but it was enough to betray him. "Emma Swan does not frighten me."
"Do not lie to yourself!" Her voice rose, gaining heat. "You've seen her magic, how the power clings to her. How quickly it heeds her? Not even you can cast with such speed, Dark One." Rumple's lip curled, revealing shiny teeth into a snarl.
He did not speak, and lit the second half of the candle. Her focus narrowed to the dark wax as it succumbed to the heat with agonizing slowness. "Your son!" She did not recognize the broken voice that left her was not hers, but knew it all the same. The tone of a victim. "He hates your darkness! What will he do when he learns he only lives due to you succumbing to the worst part of yourself?"
Silence fell and Cora tracked the drip of black wax as it rolled along the candle before it succumbed to gravity and joined the white on her. It stung the same and she threw all of her might against her bonds, but she did not manage to move an inch.
She doubled down. "His hatred of you will deepen. He will never be yours. Is that what you want, Rumplestiltskin? All the decades searching, the centuries spent in agony. All of it to come to a failing end?"
His eyes closed and his hand trembled. More wax spattered against her, burning her but not killing her. Please, she begged mentally, some struggling pride keeping her from succumbing so far as vocalizing her begging. For what we once had, Rumple, see reason. Please.
Five seconds were all her words bought her.
"Cora Mills," he said in a whisper, eyes dull. Bile rose to the back of her throat and she started to scream, thrash, and do anything to change the situation. "Cora Mills." His voice grew louder and deeper, but he still held his gaze away.
"I swear I will see you dead Rumplestiltskin!" She shouted the words out in a snarl, pushing all of her remaining energies into calling her magic. Her wrist burned with the effort, bringing her nothing but more pain.
"Cora Mills." The words were spoken no louder than before, but boomed with the power of the arcane. Cora's breath hitched, and for a single moment, nothing happened, and Cora felt an absurd amount of relief.
Then the burning began.
The illusion of something white-hot stabbing her in the upper back took her, and she grunted in surprise, eyes wide.
Rumplestiltskin turned from her and strode away even as the pain began to spread. He did not even have the courage to watch as he murdered her?
Her focus crumbled as fire began to burn through her veins in a wave of complete and utter agony.
She let out a guttural cry of rage and misery, her thoughts locking on her hatred for Rumplestiltskin and Emma Swan as the darkness claimed her.
Belle I
Belle stood, wringing her hands, and looked to the building with an ever-growing feeling of doubt. The several days since having her freewill restored with the return of her heart had not been as wonderful as she had imagined while tucked away in her mental prison. Her chest still tingled with the ghost of touch where both Cora had stolen her heart, and Regina had restored it.
She found herself restless, with the constant need to move just to prove she was the one in control. Having nowhere to go only worsened her descent into stir-craziness. She dared not show her face at the hospital, having contemplated countless situations on how Ruby would take her anger out on her. Belle decided as bad as her imagination turned that situation, she could not face the reality of it yet, either.
After that, she had come to the depressing realization of just how few people she knew.
She and Rumple had been so lost in each other for so long that she had never thought to break up the status quo after their memories were restored, and did not purposefully look outside of him for either comfort or companionship, as she never needed to.
But he had been aloof these past days, distracted by his ailing son.
And Belle could not, and would not, blame him for his divided attention. It did, however, leave her with a problem, and so she turned to her only other recourse.
The stories she had read all pointed toward the local tavern as a fantastic place to commiserate one's sorrows or seek new adventure, and her brief bout of freedom back in the Enchanted Forest had proven that a sound theory. And since she wished to avoid the prying eyes of those who were regulars at Granny's, she had sought the next best thing Storybrooke had to offer.
The Rabbit Hole.
Ruby had called it a dive bar, and though Belle was not quite sure whether the werewolf meant it as a good thing or bad, she thought that might be just what she needed. She crossed the street and strode through the bar's double door entrance with head up and shoulders square in a show of poise and confidence she did not feel in the hopes that the act would inspire the real emotion to rise within her.
The wind left her sails upon the realization that the tavern sat almost entirely abandoned. The lazy, bored eyes of the man tending bar trailed over to her. A bushy grey eyebrow rose in surprise as he nodded in greeting, waving his robust arm to indicate any of the many empty stools along the L-shaped bar between the handful of patrons and to the abandoned tables framing the lonely dance floor.
A small voice whispered in her ear to accept her disappointing discovery as a sign. To retreat back to the library and huddle down with a book to take her mind away from her troubles. The logical part of her knew doing so would not help with her newfound anxiety, but the desire to heed the voice's suggestion kept her frozen in place, shuffling from foot to foot in indecision. The barkeep's bushy brows flicked up in askance after a moment.
"You lost?" His voice held the rough and ragged quality of someone who spent a lifetime drinking and smoking. "Music doesn't start 'til eight."
"Um, no, I…" She tried to smile, but felt it come as a grimace. "I just thought." She shook her head, nodding toward the door behind her. "I should probably—"
"Don't need to be an ass and go assuming things, Rick." A voice from the opposite side of the bar spoke from behind the barkeep. Belle perked up, recognizing the speaker from days gone by. Rick grunted an acknowledgment, nodded to her, and returned to poking at his register's computer. "Need a drink, Sister?" Dreamy the dwarf, looking like he had not slept in days, patted the bar top above the seat next to him. He did not smile or wave her over, and returned his red-rimmed eyes to his glass, staring at the middle distance.
Belle shoved the voice in her head aside and walked across the room with hesitant steps, sinking into the stool next to Dreamy. The dwarf nodded to her, pulling from his drink, foam catching in his scraggly beard and moustache, but he wiped it away with an absent gesture. He did not speak.
Belle side-eyed the man as she ordered a drink from Rick – giving him dealer's choice – and tried to remember his condition the last she had seen him. Her memories from her time under Cora's control with blurred outside of following the witch's demands, so she could not recall his state on the pirate ship days before. But years ago, in the Enchanted Forest, he had been falling in love with a fairy named Nova.
She wondered what their story had been that led him here.
Belle's drink arrived and she sipped at it in furtive silence. It struck her that the quiet should have been unnerving; an awkward sign of a lack of common ground, but instead she felt a perverse sort of comradery.
Belle basked in that through half of her drink until Dreamy spoke. "You know," he said, twirling the dregs of his beer around the bottom of his pint. "This is the first time I've been back here since the curse broke." He drained the last of his drink and tapped the counter twice. Rick slid over and refilled it from a tap marked homebrew. "But I used to come here every day." He wore a frown that brought out the lines in his face. "The queen turned me into a goddamned alcoholic."
Belle sensed he was not aiming for sympathy. "She locked me in a psych ward." He let a harsh, humorless laugh and held up his drink.
"To the queen bitch," he said with palpable sarcasm. Belle gave him a wry smile and clinked her glass to his.
"I just needed to get out and do something," Belle said after taking a deep drink. Her instincts told her a story beget a tale in turn. "Ever since I got my heart back, I've not been able to sit still." She drummed her fingers on the bar, feeling at once relieved and exposed. "I always feel like Cora's still there, waiting to give another command."
Dreamy gave a low whistle. "That's some ugly business, sister." He hesitated before asking, "Have you talked to the Dark One about it at all?"
Belle blinked, not surprised that he knew about her relationship with Rumple, but that he would care enough to ask. "No," she said. "He's been focused on trying to find a way to save his son."
He nodded. "Snow says that he's in pretty bad shape."
"Rumple says the doctors don't believe there's a cure." Bell confirmed and took another drink, emptying her glass. Rick did not wait for her to ask and slid a fresh drink to her and snatched her empty away. "But he also told me has a plan." She shrugged, wishing Rumple had confided in her more than just distracted promises. But she trusted him, and knew that if he believed she could help, he would not hesitate to ask.
"Don't take this the wrong way, sister, but that doesn't fill me with a lot of confidence," Dreamy said with a grimace. Belle held the instinctive spike of anger in check, knowing her boyfriend's reputation tended to proceed him.
"And what about you, Dreamy? Whatever happened with that fairy friend of yours?" The dwarf flinched as if startled, blinking at her.
"Nobody's called that in years." He shook his head.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't…" He waved off her concerns, shaking his head.
"It's fine. Just—just use Leroy." His eyes went faraway for a moment and he tipped his drink to his lips again. Belle shifted in her seat, uncomfortable after her faux pas. Leroy continued, "But Nova… she." He choked on his words and closed his eyes. Belle's discomfort doubled, and she wondered if the fairy had not survived. "She crossed the town line."
Oh. Her mouth formed a shape to match her thought and it took a moment before she managed a verbal reply. "I'm so sorry Leroy." The words did not feel like enough, but Belle did not know what else she could offer. She could imagine few fates worse that losing yourself to the curse all over again. Leroy waved her off with a short nod, and she saw the tears he blinked back.
"Yeah, well." He cleared his throat. "I'm not the one who got kidnapped and dragged over the line." He drained his almost full drink in several long gulps and banged the glass back onto the bar. "I just can't figure out how in the hell I'm supposed to help her."
"I'm sure if anyone can come up with a cure for the curse's amnesia, it'll be the fairies," Belle said, putting a hand on the man's shoulder. Nova was one of their own, and everything Belle had read on the fairies painted them in the most positive light. "And take it from me, just being there will be enough for her."
Leroy's lips pulled back into a pained smile. "Can't even do that," he said, waving off Rick before the man could pour him another pint. "Blue has the convent on complete lockdown. Has for weeks."
Belle's mind raced from one possible explanation to the next, but knew none would satisfy the heartbroken man. "Maybe we can get the Sheriff to make some noise?" Belle owed Emma for saving both her life and free will, and did not doubt the woman would help them without question.
"David keeps on saying there's nothing we can do." He shook his head. "Something shady is going on there, sister, take my word on that." He reached into his pocket and laid several bills on the bar. As he shrugged on his coat, Belle had a thought.
"Come to the library with me," she said, gaining her feet and digging money out of her purse. Leroy's graying eyebrows rose in question. "A lot of books and journals came over with the curse. There has to be something on memory spells there." Leroy needed focus and she needed distraction. It was a perfect solution as far as Belle was concerned.
Determination sparked in his tired eyes. "You really think there's something in there that can help Nova?"
"I'm sure of it," Belle said with a smile. She had only scratched the surface on the library's catalogue, and figured they could fall back to Rumple's private collection if all else failed. A fierce grin broke Leroy's pained mask and he gained a bounce in his step as he nodded his agreement. The fire of purpose filled her heart and Belle reveled in it as she led the man out of the bar.
Henry II
Henry meandered along the streets of Storybrooke, lost in his own world of thought. When he had been proven right about everyone in town being a character from the Enchanted Forest, he had expected his life to evolve and become as interesting as the stories he held dear. At first, learning to fight with a sword with his grandfather and helping communicate with Princess Aurora across realms because they had both been under a sleeping curse had been everything he had ever hoped for.
Even when they went to find Rumplestiltskin's son, the situation had been terrifying, but Henry had been able to contribute. And he had met his father along the way, almost exactly like the hero in one of his stories would. Henry could still not fully wrap his mind that fact, and was not able to crack the knot of feelings he held when he thought about the man laying sick in the hospital. Every time he did, sadness and frustration would combine and make him feel angry, which Henry did not enjoy, and so tried to avoid thinking about the situation as much as he could.
What he did know was that with both the attack of Anton the Giant and the battle with is mom's mom, Henry never had the chance to offer his help. But as much disappointment he felt, it lived in the shadow of the guilt that wrung at his stomach.
Emma had gotten hurt both times. Bad, and it scared him to the core. If he had been there either time, well, he was not sure what he could have done, but he would have tried something.
A new plan formulated in his mind and Henry turned south down the next road, his steps hitting the ground with a newfound purpose. He was a prince of the Enchanted Forest, and he would not fall short on his duties to protect its citizens.
The walk to the sheriff station took him less than ten minutes.
There was no other car in the parking lot beside one the town's two police cruisers, and Henry figured that was for the best. Less of a chance for distractions.
The inside of the building rang with a spooky stillness that set Henry's nerves on edge. After the doors banged closed behind him, he could hear nothing else inside the station. Not even the beeping and complaining of their ancient computers. Henry frowned and moved forward with cautious steps, wondering if his grandfather had gone on patrol this early.
The station floor proved to be as abandoned as it had sounded, the dust motes dancing in the sun beams being the only movement he could see. He sighed in disappointment, resigning himself to a wait, but someone made a hissing sound like they'd just been pinched and Henry did not jump a foot off the ground in fright, whirling around.
The sound repeated itself a second later and Henry determined the source came from Emma's office. The blinds were drawn closed, but the door stood ajar by inches. He crept his way to it, wishing he had his practice sword. If someone meant to do something bad in Emma's office, surprise would be his only weapon.
The door slipped open under his touch, inch by inch, until he could poke his head through and see inside. His mouth went dry and jaw hung loose at the sight before him, mind crawling to a halt.
Ruby stood in the middle of the office, her back to him, and was unwrapping red and brown stained bandages from around her middle. Every few seconds her motion hitched and she made a pained sound.
It barely registered with Henry as his mind shouted at him that he was seeing a girl in nothing but jeans and a bra. The moment of pure awe passed and Henry knew he really, really shouldn't be seeing this while sneaking around, but he registered another fact before he could do the smart thing and back away.
A length of scaly-looking, angry red skin about the width of his three fingers started at the base of Ruby's neck, arcing down her shoulder and disappearing around her front only to reappear on the opposite side a few inches down. The burn scar circled her over and over again, each section getting closer together as it approached the small of Ruby's back.
When she removed the last of her bandages, Henry saw that the scar continued to coil around her, disappearing beneath the line of jeans.
Ruby grunted and dropped the bandages into a red garbage bin labelled "Hazard." She leaned her hands on the wall in front of her and let out a long, edged sigh. Her scar appeared to writhe with each breath.
Henry gathered his wits and slipped his head back out of the doorway, retreating to the station's main hallway. Guilt weighed down his shoulders and he leaned against the wall, head hung and eyes closed. He had not even considered how badly Ruby had gotten hurt in fighting Cora. Once again the idea that he could have been there to tip the scales overwhelmed his thoughts, and he grew angry that he had been safe and sound over a hundred of miles away.
His fists tightened until he could feel his fingernails digging impressions into his palms.
"Henry?" His attention snapped back to the present and a blush blazed to life in his cheeks. He raised his eyes to meet Ruby's, trying in vain to push back the red tinge of guilt from his skin. Ruby had put on a shirt again – loose and flowy, Henry noticed – and was looking at him with a concerned frown. "You feeling alright?" She moved to put the back of her hand against his forehead, but he dodged her.
"Uh, yeah!" He winced. Why did his voice have to crack now? "I just, uh, needed to find my grandfather?" His tone rose at the end, not hiding the lie. Ruby raised a disbelieving eyebrow but didn't call him on it, to his immense relief.
"You've just missed him," she said with an amused tilt of her head. "He went to bring lunch to Snow and Emma." Henry nodded his understanding. Emma was recovering from the battle, and it was a slow process. His grandparents hardly let her out of their sight, doting on her like his mom used to do for him when he was sick. Emma would argue and tell them to stop treating her like a kid, but then she'd get this little smile and his grandparents would be beaming with happiness…
He shook his head, putting off the mysterious weirdness of grownups to be solved at a later time.
"Well," he said, trailing the word off into a pause. "I was hoping to see where I could try to help? I mean, there's got to be something you guys need someone else to help finish, right?"
"Maybe," she said, still smiling. "But I think you'd be better off just being there for your family, Henry." She put warm, squeezing hands onto his shoulders. "You'd be surprised how much just having someone around can help, and your mom's going through a tough time right now." Her eyes glanced down and to the side and she let out a quick sigh. "Both of them are.
"And you've had a rough couple days of it to, or so I've heard." Something twinkled in her dark eyes and her smile turned wolfish. Henry's mouth went try and he found he couldn't look away. "Did you really take down a swordsman with one kick?"
It took a couple seconds before his brain registered the need to talk. "Uh, yeah." He reached up and rubbed the back of his next, suddenly sheepish. "But he wasn't expecting it. I got really lucky."
Ruby waved him off. "Even so, you've earned a little R-and-R." She turned him around and started to march him to the door, hands still on his shoulders. "I have to help with the debate prep tonight, but I'll drop you at Regina's first."
"That's the complete opposite direction?"
Ruby laughed. "It's the least I can do for Storybrooke's resident up-and-coming hero. Besides," she said, leaning over his shoulder so that she could meet his eyes and give him a conspiratorial wink. Something in Henry's stomach flipped. "I'm not looking forward to dealing Midas' lackeys, so any distraction's a good one."
"Glad I could help?" That earned him another laugh and the woman led him to the remaining squad car. Henry kept one eye on her the entire ride to his mother's house, but Ruby never so much as winced. She was masking her pain, and Henry wondered not only why she did so, but also how. The scar had looked brutal from what he had seen…
A new blush crept up the back of his neck and Henry looked away, pressing his forehead against the window in the hopes it would stop the flush in its tracks.
Henry managed to make it the rest of the way home without embarrassing himself, and, after a cheerful goodbye from Ruby, he bounded up the walkway in the hopes of escaping the early afternoon chill. He mourned the loss of his scarf as the cold breeze bit against his exposed neck, but the moment he stepped inside the house, the warmth wrapped around him like a snug blanket and the smell of baking apples set his mouth to water.
Music wafted out of the kitchen as well, and Henry found his mother in the midst of a baking storm. There was no mess, but the counters were cluttered with half empty bags of powders, sliced apples, diced nuts, and a whole mess of other things that Henry knew belonged to more than one desert. The former queen did not notice him come in, intent on studying a notebook laying on the countertop, her eyebrows furrowed in irritation as she flipped through the pages.
She wore jeans and a simple tee shirt with her hair pulled back into a tail, and it was the most casual Henry had ever seen her dress. He had no idea if it was a good sign or not.
"Hi?" She spun on her heals, a wide smile erasing the frustration that had existed seconds before.
"Henry," she said, sounding surprised. "I thought you would be with Emma today."
"The apartment gets really crowded sometimes." He said the excuse with a shrug and stuffed his hands into his pockets. His mom's eyes flicked down to them but she didn't press the issue. "What's all this?" He nodded toward the array of partially completed desserts and his mother let out a rueful laugh.
"The tree's fruit were at the right point," she said. "I never like to let them go to waste, you know that." Henry did, but never saw her do quite this much before.
"Planning to hand it out at the debate?" He guessed. His mother blinked once, then twice, before responding.
"I hadn't thought of it," she said. "But I doubt a slice of apple pie will win me any votes." Her smile went a little weird for a second.
"I don't know," Henry said, shooting out a finger to steal filling from a nearby bowl. It tasted of cinnamon heaven. "It's pretty good pie." They shared a chuckle and his mom flipped her notebook closed and pushed it to the back of the counter. He watched, quiet, as she retrieved the same bowl and started spooning its contents into four separate pie crusts.
In a moment of clarity, he realized she was trying to distract herself from something. He would do the same thing, though his distraction came by way of his practice sword rather than making a feast. He deduced it must have been caused by the battle from days ago. Henry knew Cora was locked away at the hospital, but nothing more.
"Have you been to see her?" He asked, and his mother spilled filling on the counter. She glared at the sludgy concoction.
"No," she said and grabbed a towel. As she cleaned up the mess, Henry noticed her movements became stiffer.
"It's okay," he said, and grimaced. "I haven't been to see my dad yet, either." She froze, the knuckles on the hand gripping the towel going to white as she squeezed the life out of the fabric. But when turned around, Henry found nothing but sympathy on her face.
"Oh Henry…" She crossed the room and took his hands in hers, squeezing tight. "I don't think the situation with Mr. Cassidy is quite the same."
"I think I'm too scared to go," he said, ignoring her words and looking down. "And I know I should, and it would probably help, but I just…" He trailed off and shook his head.
Several beats passed before his mother gave a hesitant reply. "Maybe if you had someone go with you, it would make it easier to face?" He raised his eyes back to hers and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
"Yeah," he agreed. "Can we…?" She closed her eyes for another few seconds before nodding with a long breath.
"Let me go change." She left to do so and Henry looked over the chaotic not-mess in the kitchen once more. His mom needed this as much as he did, Henry determined with a nod, and went to wait by the old Mercedes.
They would face their fears, together as a family, and come away stronger.
Killian II
Killian continued what had become his only pastime these last few days. He stared at the ceiling, did not move, and thought. Every day that he woke up not dead was a pleasant surprise for him, but the negligible amount of relief would fade before long. He waited for the moment Rumplestiltskin pulled back the privacy curtains once again to finish what he started.
As always, the thought brought nothing but indifference from Killian as he languished away in complete and utter boredom.
A plain looking nurse appeared from beyond the screens and performed her typical midmorning routine. The tasks that had once been humiliating had become routine to the pirate in the days since his arrival. He watched with disinterest as she redressed his wounds, noting that they looked less angry and discolored than they had the day before, but took little solace in the sight.
It would still be weeks before he would be back on his feet, and longer still until his strength returned to him. By which point, he was sure, Swan and the Evil Queen would have him secured in a cell beneath the hospital just as they had done with Cora.
While the Dark One still roamed free, to be cowed and loved by the woman he'd replaced Milah with.
He supposed the injustice should have infuriated him, but Killian could not muster the energy to do more than glare at the same spot on the ceiling that had been suffering his wrath for days.
Come to me, a voice whispered in his ear. It was deep, feminine, and as smooth as honey. It brought Killian the same comfort as listening to the ocean break on the Jolly Rogers' prow. Come to me, the gentle command repeated. And let no one stop you.
If he should have been shocked or frightened at the voice in his head, Killian did not feel it. Instead, he watched with a numbed disconnect as he threw his feet over the edge of the bed and began tearing the wiring and needles off his body. The machines by his bedside blared their protest, and the bullet wounds flared pain at his brain, but Killian ignored both.
He stood, took a long moment to find his balance, and began to walk. A gaggle of nurses watched him with wide eyes as he went, shouting their protests, but Killian paid them no mind. The one they called Whale thought to contain him and received the blunt end of Killian's left wrist to his throat for his trouble. Had Killian still had his hook, the man's throat would have decorated the walls.
He stepped over the spluttering doctor and found the emergency stairs before anyone could think to accost him. Alarms rang out as he opened the door, but Killian hurried down the steps, his breathing gaining a ragged edge as he tried to push speed out of his unused muscles.
He burst out into the frigid autumn air and his steps almost halted as the cold sank into his skin. His feet took the brunt of it, but with each motion against the wind he was acutely reminded he wore nothing but the thin gown provided by the hospital. Which, judging from the stares he received from passersby as he strode along the sidewalk, was also open in the back.
Yet he powered on, some distant part of his thoughts put together what was happening, but the terror the realization should have inspired simply was not there. He had no purpose but to follow the orders given to him.
Come to me! The voice repeated itself, more urgent than before. It translated to Killian's stride breaking into a run. Warmth bloomed down the right side of his chest and back, and a glance showed his wounds had torn open, seeping blood. Killian pushed all the harder to move forward, needing to finish his task before he lost consciousness.
He did not know where he was going, but somehow his steps took him on a path he felt confident led to his destination. As he made it to the edge of town and his steps turned away from pavement to freezing earth. His pace floundered as he fought to run through underbrush without losing his footing to a stray root or log.
He felt certain that a fall would spell certain death.
Minutes or hours later, sweating, freezing, panting, and bleeding, Killian came across a cave that sent a sense of satisfaction down his spine. Had he not been summoned, he doubted he would have found it. The opening hid between a pair of rocky outcroppings, and Killian had to duck his head to fit beneath.
"—long are we going to wait here? It's goddamned freezing." A man's voice spoke, full of irritation.
"Patience, Owen." The second speaker was the woman who whispered orders in his head. "I only know the theory, but this should be working. Come to me."
Come to me. Her voice reached his ears and spoke in his mind at the same moment, and Killian rounded a bend to find her staring at a glowing red and black crystal in her hand.
With his objective complete, Killian's thoughts came back to an instant focus. Pain bloomed from everywhere and a wave of vertigo had Killian putting the majority of his weight against the cave wall to keep from collapsing to the ground. He bit back the agony and forced himself to focus on the one who would dare steal his heart.
She watched him with a toothy smirk, her black eyes glittering in triumph. With her high cheekbones, angular features, silky hair, and dark skin, she made for a pretty sight. Had she not held the key to his free will in her hands, he would think to pursue her.
"Holy shit, it worked!" The man spoke. He was much less remarkable than his companion, with his balding head and features beginning to show the curse of age. His wide smile held the edge of a predator, though, and Killian knew better than to dismiss such a person out of hand.
"And he's dead on his feet." The woman's look of victory had fallen as she registered Kilian's state. He tried to laugh, but it came out as a strangled cry of pain. His legs gave way beneath him and his ass met rough, chilled stone. The woman placed his heart in a bag and crossed over to him, pressing one hand to his forehead and the other to his neck. Her hands were warm, soft, and pleasant.
"Fever and erratic heartbeat," she said, cursing. "You're going to have to stabilize him, Owen." The man did a double take.
"Me?" He gestured to himself in disbelief. "You've always been better at field treatment. One mistake and he's dead." Killian felt the chances of his survival dwindling with every passing moment. The woman smiled at Owen and rose to her feet.
"I have full faith in you." She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around his neck in an embrace. Killian watched in disbelief as she pulled him into a deep, heated kiss. His measure for the man increased even as his patience ran out.
He grunted, trying to focus to vocalize his objection to them letting him bleed out, but he could not form words. The noise drew their attention in any case and while Owen looked annoyed, the woman only shot him an amused smile.
"Besides," she said, looking back to Owen. "I have an appearance to make at the hospital." She released the man and stepped back, winking. "It would be unusual for a fiancé not to visit, wouldn't it?" She gathered the bag with Killian's heart and made for the mouth of the cave. "I'll report back any thing I can dig up!" She called over her shoulder, and was gone.
Owen's face morphed through several shades of discomfort and annoyance as the woman left before his eyes settled on Killian. "It's going to take weeks for you to be useful." He sneered, spat on the ground, and shook his head. Killian braced his hand on the ground in an effort to leverage himself up, but the injured limb could not handle the weight, and the pirate was sent sprawling after gaining only an inch.
"For fuck's sake." Owen grumbled out the words and moved to Killian's side. He was dimly aware of the man lifting beneath his uninjured shoulder, but the blackness closed in at the edge of his vision and Killian lost his battle with unconsciousness.
E/N: I debated how to arrange these scenes quite a bit, but ended up leaving them in the same order in which they were written. Now, each of the four takes place in roughly the same timeframe: Between 11am - 1pm three days following the battle with Cora, so assume the events happen relatively simultaneously.
And how about our field of powers shifting, yeah? Cora's off the board, Rumple seems to be falling to the dark side again, Greg & Tamara have Killian under their complete control (they will be much more competent than in canon, be warned), and I can promise that the Midas Bunch have not been idle in their time offscreen. Things are getting even more interesting in our sleepy little Maine town, aren't they?
Also, random factoid, there was to be an extremely short section of this chapter with a different PoV that I had to cut as it simply didn't fit in well with the rest of the narrative tone. I'll just mention two things about it: It was titled Mulan I, and there's a new power creeping up in the Enchanted Forest...
I'll be trying to fit it in somewhere.
In the meantime, let me know what you thought! How will Regina react to seeing her mother dead, especially having put off her chance for closure? How will Emma? With Neal back on his feet, what impact will he have on the story? Will he find out about his father's actions? And what of the fairies? Is Leroy paranoid, or is Blue actually a shady ho?
Stay tuned and find out!