A/N: Hello all and welcome to the Fourth Interlude chapter. We're rolling ever closer to the end of our AU Season 2 as the situation grows ever more desperate. Enjoy!
A Gambit in Trust
Interlude IV
August I
The wind ravaged the trees, tearing away discolored leaves with every lasting gust and painting the sky a battle of red, orange, and yellow for a single breath before soulless grey emerged the victor without fail. The drab clouds whirled overhead with the promise of a late autumn storm, and dark waves crashed to shore in the distance with gusto, foreshadowing the same.
August reached out a hand to catch a golden leaf broken from the pack, but its agile dance proved too nimble for his clumsy fingers grasp. He watched it float along the breeze with a frown before moving on, joints clanking with every step.
The air would smell of salt and earth and cold, he assumed, and he imagined the taste of it on his tongue. He shook his head at the notion, pushing one clunky step in front of the other and trying to keep his focus on the path forward.
Would today be the day he could do it? Acknowledge his punishment and embrace the freedom it offered?
Rain fell. Scattered drops became a constant stream, but August felt none of it, troubled only how the ground sank beneath his feet easier with each passing second. He debated turning back, but decided to press forward.
Getting stuck in the mud would be at least worth a laugh, and that had been in short supply these past months.
He wondered then if he could laugh, as speaking often proved difficult enough. The Blue Fairy's spell was never meant to work this way…
A pained cry carried along the wind to one of August's remaining two senses and he stopped in his tracks, head creaking in the direction of the source. After a brief battle, melancholy lost out to curiosity and he adjusted his path with quick, squelching steps.
He came across a man on his knees, head reared back and shouting incoherent curses to the gods at the top of his lungs. A wide hole had been dug before him, but whatever had been buried in the earth now rested beneath inches of muddy water.
August paused as the man's ravings turned toward murder, a deep, uneasy instinct warning him as he could not recall the man's face from the storybook.
"You alright, friend?" He asked for lack of a better icebreaker. The man's attention snapped to August, his visage falling from raged anguished to shocked horror like a flip of the switch.
The stranger recoiled in a backwards crab walk until he regained his feet. August held his hands up in a placating gesture, and tried to look as unthreatening as possible.
A might harder when you looked like a mannequin come to life rather than possessing a well-crafted cocksure smile.
"Easy, easy. I don't mean any—"
August cut himself off and dove to the side as the man drew a gun in shaking fingers, face screwing up as anger beat out fear.
His shoulder dug into the mud and his momentum stopped dead. August tried yanking himself free, but the ground held him fast.
"Fucking hate magic!" The man snarled out the shout, adjusting his aim and unloading three shots without hesitation.
Instinct caused August to flinch, but his curse proved a boon as the bullets lodged into the wood in his chest without the mildest sense of irritation. Both he and the stranger stared at the cooling metal resting just over the spot his heart should have been, dumbfounded.
I'll be damned.
August used the moment of shock to hurl himself out of the hole and lurch to his feet. At his full height he loomed over the shooter, who seemed glued in place with a defiant sort of fear in his eyes.
"What the hell are you?"
The rueful chuckle August went for came out as something closer to a growl. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he said, debating just leaving the man to his own devices. He doubted he could outrun anyone in the mud, but he did not think it likely the man would chase after him.
But leaving a crazy bastard with a gun to roam free sparked an old protective instinct deep within August's wooden soul.
He couldn't let this man go and hope he never ran across Geppetto.
Plus, getting shot had irked him some, and it was closest August had come to feeling anything beyond apathetic despair in months.
He took a step and the stranger let loose with the rest of his clip. The bullets killed August's momentum as the man grouped every shot at August's center mass. He tried to grin as he felt nothing but the resistance as he kept moving forward, and wondered what his expression must have looked like for the other man to recoil so harshly.
He reared back a fist and felt the promise of power behind the blow as it flew through the air with all the speed of a coconut-laden swallow. His opponent dodged beneath the arm with ease, spinning to punch August right where his kidney should have been.
August stumbled but kept his balance, and his would-be killer screamed, hugging a rapidly swelling hand to his chest. While the man stared at his useless limb, August lowered his shoulders and went for a grapple, catching the man around the middle. With a surprising ease, he managed to lift the man off his feet and slam him into the ground with enough force for August to hear the air leave his lungs.
"It's like punching a tree, right?" He tried to quip, but the downed man could only heave a breath as he tried to get his lungs to work right. August shrugged and dug into a pocket for his phone, hoping he'd be able to use the damn thing in his state.
It powered up with a cheerful tune, its battery life decent despite having not been turned on in months, and he was greeted by a message showing a good dozen missed calls from the sheriff. They tapered off the more time had passed since he ran, until they stopped altogether a month beforehand.
Before August could register how he felt about the discovery, a scratch-hiss sound drew his attention back to the stranger, finding him back on his feet with a burning flare gripped in his functional hand.
Who carries a flare?
The man moved faster than August could swing around, driving the flaming end of the stick into one of the divots left behind by the bullets. August managed to grip the man by the shoulder and backhand him away, but it did not stop the dry wood beneath his clothes from catching alight.
A scream tore through whatever acted as his throat as it burned.
All things considered, August would not have chosen fire to be the first thing he felt to be fire.
Thought escaped him as the tongues of fire licked along his torso. The rain kept his clothes from catching light, but whatever kept his wooden flesh safe from water worked against him as it felt as if dozens of tiny, serrated claws bit at him as the fire began to grow.
August lunged for the hole his attacker dug, the muddy water drowning the fire in an instant. The pain left behind was initially sharp and stinging, but began to fade as the cold soothed his wounds back to numbness.
His relief proved short lived as he moved to push himself up and found something held him down in the inches deep water. His eyes snapped open and he came face to face with a human skull not an inch from his nose. A shocked shout slipped from his throat, sending bubbles flying from his mouth and ushering in the jarring sensation of needing to take a breath.
The surprise at actually needing to breathe trumped his fear and thrust his arms out behind him as hard as he could, hitting something halfway through his swing that let him surge from the watery grave with a gasping breath.
His attacker lay in the mud in the fetal position, clutching his crotch with a high-pitched whine tumbling through the rainy air. August blinked at the man, considered his options, and reared back a leg and kicked the bastard in the back of the head, knocking him out.
He had no way to bind the man's arms and kept one eye on him in the minutes it took to find his phone again and managed to dial a number.
"Swan." Her voice sounded as if she had gargled gravel, her tone the shortest he had ever heard it before. August hesitated to respond until she voiced an annoyed query.
"Emma," he said and paused, trying to figure out how to word his situation.
"August?"
He flinched at the incredulity in her tone.
"I'm… I've got something you're going to want to see."
Snow II
Snow wondered when she began to hate the hospital so much.
As drawn as she had been to David, the sterile halls had been all but a second home for her when she had only been Mary Margaret. Visiting him every day had left her melancholy, but also with a sense of hope just on the edge of her conscious thought.
Before Emma came along and brought true happiness back to her life, her visiting with her comatose true love was the only thing that kept her going some days.
It was an ironic twist of fate, she supposed, that she had spent nearly as much time visiting loved ones in the hospital since the curse broke.
She watched her daughter watching Regina and her heart clenched. The bags beneath Emma's eyes shouted her exhaustion to the world. Her limp hair and sagged shoulders highlighted her despair, and Snow had yet to be able to get Emma to take a moment's rest since Henry was taken. But the way her jaw clenched and the sharp light in her eye comforted Snow that her daughter refused to give up.
She hugged her arms across the middle, worry for Henry dominating her thoughts for a moment before she shook took a breath and overcame it. They had gotten everything out of Hook when he had run to town carrying an unconscious Regina despite his lifeblood leaving a gruesome trail in his wake.
His tale had been the only thing to make Emma smile as pride for her son won over her despair for the shortest of moments.
Unfortunately, the boat house Hook described proved empty save for the horrid set up Mendel had used to torture Regina.
An involuntary shiver ran down Snow's spine at the thought of anyone going through what Regina did. Not even she deserved such.
"Swan." Her daughter's haggard voice drew her to the present. Emma pressed her phone to her ear with a grim expression and Snow's heart dropped.
Had the kidnappers contacted them again?
Emma's expression morphed to pure shock. "August?"
Snow blinked, nonplussed. They had all assumed August had left town for good after he had disappeared from his room at Granny's.
"Describe him," Emma demanded, her free hand gripping the foot of Regina's bed hard enough for the plastic to creak. Her lips turned up to a snarl. "You keep him there August, you hear me?" She hung up the phone and studied Regina's face with an inscrutable expression for impossibly long moments until it was all Snow could do not to demand what August had said.
"August has Mendel," Emma said at length, tearing her eyes away from the unconscious woman at last. A renewed sense of hope bloomed in the corner of Snow's heart even as she bit back the dozens of questions she wanted to ask. "I'm going to pick him up and I need you to stay here in case she wakes up."
Snow wanted to argue, but the intensity in her daughter's eyes gave her pause. She recognized the uphill battle for what it would be, and chose not to cost them any more time.
"I'll watch over her," she said, and tried to smile. It came strained and Emma did not return the gesture. She turned back to Regina and looked as if she wanted to speak, but she hesitated before snapping her jaw shut and rushing from the room with a sense of purpose.
In the wake of her daughter's absence, it took only moments for Snow to feel entirely out of place. Standing over Regina's unconscious form, Snow could not help but to think that the former queen would want just about anyone else in all realms to be watching over her rather than her estranged stepdaughter.
The image of Regina's annoyed sneer came to mind as easy as breathing and Snow turned away and stomped out her negative thoughts. No matter how hard she tried, it still seemed impossible to not think of Regina as an enemy…
"Henry?"
The groggy voice froze Snow and she lamented fate for not letting Regina wake up five minutes earlier.
In the moment it took for Snow to put on her game face and turn back around, Regina had sat up and cradled her head in her hand, her skin a hue close to green. Snow laid a hand on the woman's shoulder, only for Regina to recoil and press herself closer to the head of the bed.
"Regina, how do you feel?" Snow asked in her gentlest voice.
"Where's Henry? Is he safe?" Regina raised her eyes, blinking them back to focus as she looked around the room. When she spotted the look on Snow's face, Regina's entire posture shrank in a way that left Snow off balance.
"Regina…"
"He was with us. He got us out." Pride combined with worry and Regina swung her legs over the edge of her bed. "Where's the damn pirate?" The former queen stood and stumbled, cursing, and Snow rushed to keep her steady.
"Hook got you here on Henry's orders," Snow said, leaning Regina back to the bed despite the woman's protests. "He said two more strangers showed up and Henry distracted them to let you two get away." Regina clenched her jaw, looking away. "We went to the boat house he described, but it was empty."
"Another tracking spell, then."
"Emma tried it already," Snow said and Regina blinked in surprise. "It didn't work, but she's tracking down another lead right now."
"Then take me to her," Regina demanded and made to stand again. Snow held her down with a firm hand and the former queen's look could have set water aflame.
"You're in no state, Regina."
"My son is out there." Regina gripped Snow's wrist like a vice, ripping it away. "And I'll be damned if I ever let him go without a fight."
There was a taunt behind Regina's eyes as she spoke that stoked the kindles of Snow's anger.
"The best thing you can do is stay put while the rest of us figure out our next move." She couldn't keep her annoyance out of her voice.
"Did you think you could stop me, dear?" Regina said with a glare, her palm turning up into an open fist Snow had learned to fear years ago.
She backed away, and, instead of her usual ball of fire, Regina summoned a pillar of flame. Snow leapt backward, but the magic ended in an instant with Regina clutching at her hand with a pained grunt. Angry red skin blistered in Regina's palm as the sorceress cursed under her breath as she trembled.
Snow pursed her lips as the implications set in.
"What happened to your magic?"
"It's temporary." Regina grunted out the words, trying to use disdain to drown out her fear.
"You hope."
The glare sent Snow's way spoke volumes.
"Regina, you're awake!" David stepped into the room, pocketing his phone and hiding a look of surprise.
"And your talent for stating the obvious is as sharp as ever."
"Back to normal then," came David's deadpan reply.
Regina rolled her eyes and started to wrap her hand with gauze off her bedside table.
"Some good news at least." David turned to Snow, tapping the pocket he'd slipped his phone into. "Anton says the shoots have merged. The stalk should flower within the week."
Snow's ever present desire to see her entire family returned home played the image of them happy, together in their land across her mind. Worry stole the joy from her heart as part of her whispered the possibility of Henry never seeing the land he should someday rule.
"Tensions will be running high," Snow said for want of distraction.
"Doc and Happy have the dwarves running on shifts. Someone's always going to be there."
"Any more trouble from Midas?"
David shook his head with a frown. "They've spotted a couple of his supporters in the area a few times, but nothing direct."
Snow wrung her hands in thought. "I would have expected them to make a move during all of this."
"I doubt they've been idle," Regina said, having pulled herself to her feet again with her bandaged hand clutched to her chest. "We can't keep postponing the election forever." The former queen took a ragged breath and a hesitant step, seeming to gain confidence as she kept her balance. "At this point I say let them have the damn town."
"We can't just let someone like Midas seize control," Snow said with a sigh. As much as they were all hurting, defeatism never helped anyone. "Not when we still aren't sure who's pulling the strings."
"Three guesses," David said, a shadow crossing his features at the thought of his false father.
Snow inclined her head to his point. "And especially not when we're so close to having a way home."
"And it would be a grand tragedy if anyone other than your family controlled those beans, wouldn't it, your majesty?"
The sarcasm floated through the air full of accusation and without patience. Mitchell Herman stood in the doorway to Regina's room, his hair and pea coat wet from the rain and his expression locked in a scowl.
"We've been over this, Mitchell. The beans are under the jurisdiction of the Storybrooke Sheriff's Department as obtained during a criminal investigation." David spoke the words in a bored monotone, crossing his arms.
"So you say," Mitchell said in clear disbelief. His shrewd gaze fell on each of them in turn, pausing on Regina long enough to offer a derisive sniff, before settling on Snow. "I come with an offer."
Regina let out a scoff, arms crossing over her hospital gown clad middle. "What could you possibly have that we could want?"
"Information." Mitchell drew himself up to stand straight, not giving an inch under their combined scrutiny. "Possibly related to Henry's disappearance."
Snow's breath hitched and she heard David gasp as well. Regina stepped forward, somehow managing to channel the intense aura of the Evil Queen despite her state of dress.
"What do you know?" She demanded and Mitchell held up a hand.
"First, there is no guarantee that this will help," he said with what Snow thought was a genuine note of concern. "But the timing works out. And second, well." He grimaced. "There is the cost."
Regina's left hand lashed out and grabbed Mitchell by the collar in a vicelike grip. "If you have any information about my son, you will speak or I will make you."
The moment Regina moved David had acted, placing a firm grip on Regina's shoulder with his other hand hovering near his weapon. He did not speak, however, and Snow was less than inclined to stop Regina.
Mitchell did not flinch under the assault, grasping Regina's wrist and tearing it away as he spoke. "Were it my choice alone." He sighed, shaking his head. "It's simple, drop out of the mayoral race and the intelligence is yours."
"Done," Regina said without hesitation, but Mitchell just shook his head.
"Not you," he said, nodding toward Snow. "You."
Snow allowed herself the shortest moment of indignation before jutting out her chin in challenge as she spoke.
"If what you have helps save my grandson, you have my promise."
David looked disconcerted and Snow was not quite sure she saw thankfulness in Regina's eyes before.
"Fair enough," Mitchell said with a nod. "An anonymous contact reports unusual activity in the mines these past few days. Strangers in the tunnels."
"Anonymous," David said in disbelief. Mitchell ignored him and kept his attention between Snow and Regina.
"The mines are only worked by the dwarves, what business does your contact have down there?" Snow asked.
"His own," Mitchell said and held up his hands. "Believe me or not, I've already done more than I should have."
The man turned on his heel and left them. Snow did not waste her breath to admonish the former king.
"David," she said instead, turning to her husband. "The dwarves haven't reported anything?"
"When they're not at the stalk, they're collecting fairy dust," he said, shaking his head. "They only use a small part of the mines, though."
"What else could somebody possibly want in the mines," Snow mused, then caught the stricken look on Regina's paling face. "Regina?"
The former queen snapped her attention to Snow. "We need to get to the mines," she said. "Immediately." She brushed by David and Snow, gathering up her actual clothes from beside her bed.
"What do you know that we don't?"
Regina paused just long enough to pinch her eyes shut in a grimace.
"A failsafe," she said, full of wariness. "Hardcoded into the curse. If it were used…" She trailed off, eyes trailing over to Snow with an expression of deep foreboding. "It would kill us all."
David's hand sought hers and Snow grasped it with a reassuring squeeze.
She wondered there would ever be an actual chance to return to normalcy.
Tamara I
Tamara woke with a start, eyes snapping open.
The world was a rush of blurred colors and double figures that sent her stomach on a dangerous churn, and so she slammed her eyes shut with a soft groan.
What the hell happened? she thought, remembering only the Evil Queen's desperate face before everything went to black
"—send for the shadow and get this over with," a vaguely familiar voice spoke, sounding disgruntled.
"Do you really trust it to not just take the kid?" Another man responded in a bored tone Tamara knew well. She forced her eyes open again, and rode out the world spinning until everything came to an agonizing slowness. Her boss stood with his back to her, facing a man Tamara had only ever briefly interacted with.
"I don't like leaving this to chance either, Michael," her boss continued, adjusting his glasses and patting a bulging pouch he wore on his belt. "But they have to serve some purpose, don't—" He cast a glance over his shoulder, blinking in surprise. "Awake already, Tamara?"
"What are you doing here, John?" She pushed herself up until she was sitting, thankful the world chose to remain still. "Where's Owen?"
"Still missing in action," Michael said without bothering to hide his annoyance. "You two've almost let everything go to complete waste, here."
Tamara winced, unable to deny it. Owen had gone off the handle, and she hadn't been prepared to deal with it.
"He'll turn up," John said in as neutral a tone as Tamara ever heard. "But for now we need you to contact your other lover."
He pulled an old flip phone from one of his jacket's pockets and handed it to her with an amused smile.
"My cover was blown," she pointed out, but flipped the phone open to begin dialing numbers in any case. When dealing with John Darling, it was best to listen to orders.
"We know," Michael said sardonically.
"And we're going to use that," John said, casting a look over his shoulder toward his brother. "He's the son of a man renowned across realms for making deals. He won't be able to resist this."
Tamara doubted their logic, but kept her opinion to herself as she pressed her phone to her ear. It rang only once.
"Henry?" The hope and desperation in the man's voice twisted a part of Tamara she could not completely suppress.
She ignored the familiar specter of guilt and adopted a confident tone.
"Hello Neal."
A/N: Relatively short after such a long absence, I know, but the desire to write for Once has been hard to maintain with the way the show went at the end of 5a. I actually haven't watched any of 5b yet, as I plan to let it finish before I run through it on a binge, but everything I hear has been pretty hit or miss. Still, I do feel the undying urge to at least finish out my version of Season 2, so have no fear about this story being abandoned.
That said, reviews give me life, so please leave one - good or bad - and let me know how you enjoyed this chapter and the fresh points of view alongside the return visit to Snow's head!