Chapter 19:

The Price of Freedom

He couldn't risk this turning into a hostage situation, or worse, a let's-cut-our-losses-by-slitting-her-throat situation, so he said, "We wait."

~0~

Twilight…

They waited. The text came: Warrant approved.

They waited some more, but not without scouting the perimeter.

There were three auditoriums total with moving picture screens, each with an 'emergency' outdoor exit as well as the front doors of the darkened lobby and the far more active back door entrance. Killian supposed that since Swan and her merry band of law enforcement had shut down all of criminal ring members' business establishments after the raid on Dante's clinic, that it would be conspicuous for there to be lights on in the front public areas. It was at this thought that he realized what he had been missing all along.

"Swan?" he called. When he had her attention, he asked, "You raided this place, right?"

"Yes…" she admitted, her brows furrowing quizzically, as she waited for him to get wherever he was going with this line of inquiry.

"So the whole building does not have a repulsion enchantment?"

"Well, it wouldn't, would it? It would be bad for business if no one wanted to come in, wouldn't you say?" Jefferson quietly chimed in.

Killian nodded and said, "Precisely. So which section of the building do you most not want to go to when you picture yourself entering?"

Comprehension briefly dawned on her face before she scowled in concentration. After a few painstaking moments, she answered, "The oldest auditorium. The one Henry told me used to be an actual live theater… Not the auditorium exactly, but more like the backstage areas…"

"Is there any way to access those areas from the outside?" he asked, as that had been her section of the perimeter to scout.

She shook her head, "No. We'll have to seal off all the exits and clear the place by sweeping through S.W.A.T. style."

Before he could ask what that meant, Ginger called to let them know that the townhouse was contained and only Reeves was there with his personal computer equipment and Tawny's 'laptop', but no Tawny.

"Tie him up and gag him," he instructed, "And then come join us."

"Done and done. We're already on our way. That Nottingham bloke was blathering on about a 'stage of pain' and his patron getting his 'pound of flesh' and 'meting out justice'."

David called Swan next, informing her only a skeletal crew had been on the D'Enfer estate and that his 'father' had been sipping brandy and watching the big viewing screen that had the image of the old stage on it. Somehow these wretches had rigged up a way for the bloody old tyrant to see what was happening several miles away, as if this screen were Regina's magic mirror.

He tried with all his might not to picture what form of entertainment was scheduled for the night, but he oh-so could. He had centuries of villainous life to provide fodder for his imagination.

He distracted himself with the only way he could – he pictured what he would do to those vile devils if they harmed so much as one golden lock of her precious tresses.

Blood would flow.

~0~

"No matter how hard you stare at that wall it ain't gonna produce a magical escape hatch for you," taunted Hockey-douche.

After Driver had departed, her 'cell' door had been left open, and she had been spending the time since staring fixatedly on the 'Exit' sign when not observing the movements of her wardens. Bulldog had left as well as the man in the corner. They had been replaced with said Hockey-douche and the man with the voice she had yet to place. That man had left to bring them popcorn from the concession stand.

"I don't need a magical one. I just need that one," she replied with as much gumption as she could muster. If she could goad him just enough, maybe she could… 'What trick him into untying you for a fair fight – man to woman – to try to kill each other like civilized people? All before the other guy returns? Seriously, that's the plan?'

The brute looked at her like she was quite mad and asked incredulously, "What one?"

Rolling her eyes, she answered, "That one. Ya know the door to the left of you. My left, I guess. My goal is to follow the exit sign, nimrod."

"Well, Blondie, I love to break it to you, but there's no door there," he jeered.

'No door? Of course, there's a door. Is he trying to drive me mental?'

"The door, it's right – "She registered his blank expression, and then finally put the pieces together. "Oh. You can't see it. This is one of those things the bosses keep on saying that I shouldn't be able to see."

Nimrod looked at the wall, looked at his shrieking-eel talisman, and then looked at her with a smug grin. "Nah. You're just going batty."

Before she could agree or disagree, the popcorn arrived. To distract herself from the loud crunching sounds and the increasingly raucous laughter of the auditorium, she scanned the room, noting possible weapons or sharp tools. She did this mostly for a mental exercise because she did not really believe these men were going to relax their guard enough to give her an opening. They were too hungry for her blood to let her spoil their fun.

She had just spotted a toolbox, left behind by some worker, when Nimrod began making choking, gasping sounds and then frothing at the mouth.

She instinctively almost called for help, but then the other guy was kneeling before her and shushing her, saying, "Quiet. I'm gonna get you out of here, so that you can save those little girls, but you need to not draw attention to us. Okay?"

She nodded and whispered hesitantly, "Is he – is he dead?"

"Yes," he said brusquely. "Does that bother you?"

She shook her head. He frowned at her, almost as if he disapproved of her atypical 'good guy' response. But she couldn't give a damn. It was hard to dredge up sympathy for a man who had stuck a gun in her mouth.

"Who are you?"

His scowl deepened as he released her feet and hauled her up, "You don't remember me?" When she shook her head, he supplied, "Taggart, the name's Taggart."

She peered at his broad face and then it finally clicked for her. "You were one of the Queen's soldiers."

"I guarded the wall."

He said this as if it had some sort of significance. She wanted to ask him what it was or why he was helping her, but she had the more pressing matter of him going the wrong way and not unbinding her hands. Tugging against his hold on her arm, she said, "Uh, Taggart? Thanks for the rescue, but a closer exit is this way. And could you release my hands?"

He tugged back, insisting darkly, "We're going this way, and no, I won't."

There was something in his tone of voice that she did not like, so she dug her heels in and asserted, "Okay…I get that walking me past whoever is up there with my hands free would be a major tip off, but if we go my way, no one will see us."

He growled and threw her from him, causing her to trip and fall on her ass (thankfully not on her hands or her wrists would have broken), declaring, "Perhaps, I want to be seen."

She knew she shouldn't provoke this obviously volatile man, who was looming over her, but she couldn't help herself. His declaration made no sense. "Why?"

"The rich and powerful need to know that they can't always have their way at the expense of the little guy," he sneered. Looking down at her with malicious hatred, he declared, "And although they may have lost money and allies to your meddling, I lost a friend, a blood brother, to you and your pirate. I have the right of revenge, and they can't deny it to me, just because I don't got the coin for it."

'Queen's guard… blood brothers…lost friend…dead man…due to pirate and her?...Oh. Oh! He's talking of Rocco's replacement…'

"I'm sorry for your friend. Claude, wasn't it?" At his nod, she continued with her attempt to placate, "I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt."

"Didn't mean? Didn't mean for anyone to get hurt?!" He exploded. "What do you think would happen when you played decoy for Captain bloody Hook? His hook, by the way, he stabbed into my friend's neck!"

His eyes bulged and his chest heaved, as he stalked towards her.

As Tawny attempted to get away from him (her limbs were entirely uncooperative), she appealed to his survival instinct, "Taggart, think about this. If you exact your vengeance on me now, they'll hear you. And Driver and Agustino have a strict no insubordination policy. They'll kill you."

He leaned down to grab her by her hair and halfway dragged her up to say contemptuously, "Your concern would be touching, if it wasn't a blatant lie. Now shut your damn cunt mouth."

He then threw her back down to the ground and began to viciously kick her with his steel-toed boots. Over and over again.

~0~

It was nearing the midnight hour and Killian knew in his gut that if they did not move soon it would be too late.

They were waiting for their reinforcements. Apparently, Baelfire and the princes had more ruffians to deal with than they had expected. All that Swan had been willing to tell him was that it had looked like the men in there had been gearing up for some action of their own on Driver's orders. But he had gathered she had it under control because after delegating the duty of arranging pick-up for the prisoners to Belle, she was more focused on the problem of the enemy having more firepower than them. She was nibbling on her lip in deep concentration and gazing anxiously at the building across the street from them.

Suppressing a growl, he tried for the softer approach and said as bracingly as he could muster, "You know, Swan, if you can light a flame in the Dark Hollow without Regina's assistance. You can do this too."

She shot him her best annoyed look, as she snapped, "It's not like I'm Magneto and can stop bullets – " Her green eyes widened and her frown did an immediate stunning one-eighty, "Oh, but I can!"

At this, Charming looked up at his daughter in shock, "You can?"

She waved her hand in the air in a so-so gesture and replied, "Sort of. I can do the opposite of what I did in the Hollow. Regina taught me a spell to make it impossible for any spark to ignite…and I think I can extend it over the whole building, so…"

"So the gunpowder won't combust, as if all their pistols were waterlogged?" he asked, catching on to the genius of her solution.

She grinned, "Yeah."

They tested it on a few of their own guns, until Baelfire and the princes arrived, and then Charming ordered everyone into their positions.

Swan gave the signal that the spell was cast with a click over her radio. There was responding double clicks from each party in acknowledgment.

Charming, the Leviathan, and the dwarves charged into the front lobby; Baelfire and the princes, into the third auditorium. He, Emma, and Jefferson were to join the fray via the back entrance as soon as the rest of the building was cleared, ensuring that those inside had nowhere to run to. Granny, Tiny, and Tink and the fairies had been called in to watch the perimeter, in case any slipped past them. He had only agreed to hang back, because it allowed him the shortest route to his goal of the backstage.

After a few tense moments, Charming's voice came over the radio, announcing, "Lobby is clear," which was the signal for Ruby, Ginger, and Fitz to follow in and clear out the offices and gain control of the security room.

"Main auditorium – clear." – Charming.

"Third auditorium – clear." – Baelfire.

"Security control room owned." – Conroy. "According to my pretty new sets of eyes, the shindig is in the old auditorium. A few stragglers in the hallways."

"Tighten the noose," Swan instructed into her radio, signaling for the dwarves to stay behind as rearguard and Fitz as their eyes and ears, while the lasses, Baelfire, and the princes joined Charming and the knight in their journey to the old auditorium.

As soon as they heard the clicks that all parties were at their posts, the three of them marched to the door, he and Jefferson flanking the Savior.

When Larue saw them, his pasty face paled even further.

Jefferson doffed his hat and bowed, saying, "Beg pardon, I hope I am not late."

Larue looked as if he was going to give a squeak of alarm, but before he could, Jefferson hit him in the throat through his hat.

Killian took care of the beefy fellow who had been standing on the inside of the door, grabbing his arm to jerk him forward and then smash his thick skull into the doorjamb.

To Larue's gasping form, Swan stated briskly, "Warrant," as she passed him.

From there it was a blur of slashes, smashes, grabs, stabs, punches, kicks, jabs…

At one point, he saw Charming engaged with Gisbourne and holding his own. The Leviathan, with King George's interrogator. Swan, with a pair of hags, and Baelfire, at her back against a hobgoblin. He himself took on four or five opponents before he made the backstage, which is when he was confronted with Driver.

The man was positively florid and practically foaming at the mouth. In fact, spit flew when he shouted accusingly, "You!"

Hook grinned evilly, agreeing, "Me."

The bull of a man charged him. He treated him as such and dodged at the last moment, but not before slashing with his hook, raking the man down his back.

Driver howled and pivoted to face him again, which is when he jabbed him in the floating rib so that it would cause further damage to his obviously alcohol-weakened liver. Driver bent over double.

Killian clubbed him in the ear, sending him spinning. He then kicked the back of the man's legs knocking him to his knees, grabbed the portly beast by his fluffy white hair and yanked his head back. His hook was at the man's throat as he hissed into his ear, "Where is she?"

"Your gold wench? Wouldn't you like to know?" he taunted, but his eyes glanced down to the stairs, telling Killian all he needed to know.

"My, being the operative word," he countered, pressing the point of the hook into the man's skin and drawing blood. Driver's eyes widened in fear as he realized his mistake – touching a pirate's prize.

Hook savored the man's terror and was about to finish him off, when Swan shouted, "Killian, no!"

Whether it was the use of his given name or her voice or a combination thereof, he did not know, but it was sufficient to stay his hook. Instead, he slammed his near victim into the staircase's iron railing. He then jumped over his slumped corpulent form and descended into the dark depths below, with Swan close at his heels.

~0~

All she knew was pain. At some point of Taggart's assault, her head had hit a pillar. Her mind and eyesight were fuzzy as a result. Her ribs were radiating agony, and she was pretty sure some of her organs had been rearranged.

She didn't scream. She didn't want the fate that waited upstairs for her to be hastened. What she wanted was to curl up into a ball and not come out until it was all over – or she was over.

She didn't though. She hunched and twisted to protect her face and head as much as she could, but she took the kicks and used the force of their momentum to hurl her in the direction that she needed – a certain pillar.

And then she used her fight-instinct adrenaline to raise herself up and face her attacker. This only incensed him more, and instead of kicks, he rained punches down on her.

She took those too. She prayed the payoff was worth it. The 'payoff', she was hoping for, was a leaver that was anchored to this pillar. A leaver, to a trapdoor in the ceiling above. A trapdoor, that she remembered Graham admonishing Marco to fix while she had been in lock-up once.

Her bruised fingers fumbled but finally found and grasped it. And when Taggart took a step back to Chuck Norris-roundhouse kick her, she yanked it down.

A pulley system was activated. A safety latch undone. A too-tightly coiled spring on the door's hinge was released. And the thick oak trapdoor exploded open, swinging down and smacking Taggart in the back of the head, stunning him. His eyes rolled right up in the back of his head and down he went like a ton of bricks.

Before he could recover, Tawny stumbled over to him. She sank ungracefully to her knees and placed all her weight on his throat, slowly suffocating him.

She blamed her fuzzy brain for losing track, because she didn't stop until she felt a crack. She had broken his hyoid bone. 'Dead then. Good riddance,' was all that she could numbly think.

She wanted to run for her exit, but she didn't want to with her hands still unusable. So she pushed through the pain and curled her body up so that she could tuck her hands beneath her bum and slide them out from under legs.

Once her hands were in front of her she searched for a way to cut through the tape. She pat searched both guards, but found no knives, just guns. She went to the toolbox and rooted around in it. There was no sharp instrument. The screwdriver would take too long (and it wasn't a sonic, so what was the point?).

She paused in her search, when the noises from upstairs switched from being celebratory to conflict-ridden. She couldn't tell if the kerfuffle was the result of her cavalry's arrival or a disagreement among highly violent and disagreeable people. Either way if it spilled over down into here, she needed to be able to defend herself. So Plan B.

She grabbed the hammer and staggered her way over to the glass fire extinguisher case. With an awkward swing, she broke the glass, and then using one of the shards, she began sawing through her bonds.

Just as she had freed herself, she heard a male voice yell from the top of the spiral stairs, "Where the hell are you? We're under attack! Taggart, get the bitch!"

Knowing that her time was up, she raced over to her dead guards and grabbed one of the guns she had previously discarded. She brought it up to aim at the descending figure and pulled the trigger, hoping to take him out at the legs. But, of course, nothing happened! Such was her bloody luck.

She let out a string of silent curses. She knew if she ran for her door, her back would be to the man who most likely had a working gun and excellent aim, so she abandoned that plan and dodged into the shadows.

The man, who reminded her of the wiry trapper of so long ago, glanced around the room, taking in immediately the two dead bodies of his brethren. He let out a holler and was soon joined by a huskier meathead. On the bright side not quite as beefy as Bulldog.

"Miss, we know you are here. If you come out now, I promise your end will be swift and painless," Wiry announced.

Tawny's only response was to grab the fire extinguisher from its case and tuck the hammer into her waistband, before circling around them as stealthily as possible.

When she was in position – behind them but out of arms' reach – she cleared her throat. Both of them swung around at the sound, she let loose the highly pressurized foam right into their faces.

Husky got the most of it and stumbled out of her way. She threw the fire extinguisher at Wiry to throw him off balance as well and then yanked out the hammer.

She blocked Wiry's blind jab and retaliated with a swing to his left cheek. Dazed from the agonizing pain he must have been experiencing, he threw a wild punch. She blocked it with her elbow and jabbed the hammer into his torso before blocking his left upswing. She then did her own left uppercut to his jaw.

While he was disoriented, she added two more body blows and a right hook, reinforced by her grip on the hammerhead, to his already broken cheek bone. He went down and didn't get back up. He wasn't dead, but when he woke up next and each time he woke up from his next few facial surgeries, he was going to wish that he was.

Turning to her remaining obstacle to freedom, she swung the hammer into his knee, shattering it. A blow he never saw coming as he was still blind.

He didn't crash to the ground or howl. He merely groaned and hunched over, throwing his weight into her and attempting to take her to the ground. They crashed into the stack of tables behind her. A sharp pain exploded into her chest winding her, but she ignored it as best she could and took advantage of the opening she had – he was off balance and exposed.

She shoved him off of her and regained her footing, and then raised the hammer over her head and brought it down with all her might onto his back. This time, he did fall to his knees – knee. She flipped the hammer around and then brought it back in a sidearm swing, clobbering him on the side of the head with the wooden handle.

He collapsed at her feet unconscious.

She stood there swaying over their bodies, suddenly overcome with both nausea and dizziness. Her whole body ached, and her chest was throbbing. She couldn't breathe both from the pain and the lack of ability.

She could hear more people, at least two, descending the stairs, but she didn't have the energy to run. She did manage to tighten her grip on the hammer, but as soon as she saw the lean man with his familiar and dear scruff and his shiny hook darkened by blood, she dropped it.

She let out a breathless gurgle of a gasp, "Kil – ian," and then collapsed.

He was at her side in an instant. She could hear him calling her name over and over again, but it was distant and echo-like, and the dim world of this under-stage was growing darker.

Some distant and primal thought pinged in the back of her mind, images of two little girls, giving her one last surge of adrenaline. It was enough for her to gasp, "Xan-dy…Grace…danger…-ver."

And that was all she wrote.

~0~

When his eyes adjusted to the dim-lighting, he was filled with both horror and pride.

Pride, for there was his lass, standing over two crumpled bodies and a third no longer breathing one behind her. A fourth looked to have been poisoned.

Horror, for she was a bloody mess, swaying and obviously on her last leg.

He was moving as soon as the hammer dropped from her limp hand, before she let out that heartbreaking broken gasp of his name, and shouting, "Tawny!"

But he wasn't fast enough. She crumpled like a broken marionette before he could reach her.

When he did, he cradled her body to him with his left arm and with his right stroked her hair and battered face, and then ran it down her body assessing her injuries. The whole time he called her name, "Tawny-love, darling Tawny. Come on now, open those fiery eyes of yours for me. Come on, Tawny." In the background, he could hear Swan call for the ambulance that they had had on standby.

At first, she didn't respond, only letting out little whimpers and groans, but finally she opened her eyes, which were dark with pain, and gasped with urgency, "Xan-dy…Grace… danger…-ver."

And then she was gone.

For a moment, he thought history was repeating itself, but then her chest rose and fell in shallow breath. Glancing up he saw a door that had a sign indicating an external egress point. To Swan, he directed, "Tell the medics to come to the alley outside," and he nodded in the direction of the door.

"Why? There's no way in from there." She stubbornly argued.

"So you've said," he retorted, thinking how much faster he could have made it to his lass, if he had just known that was there. "But I, who am immune to the sorcery, can see one."

Swan was mumbling about how Stromboli must have had a secret escape for himself, in order to explain why Regina's amulets were not working in this instance, but he was not paying all that much attention. He was picking up his lass and carrying her to the help she needed. He would not have another woman of his die in his arms.

He may not deserve a happy ending, but she did.

A/N: Hello, my pretties! Root for happy endings, share your thoughts - any happy little thought... so that the good times may roll again for our anti-heroic pair ; )