Regina stands outside the apartment block listed on Gold's insurance claims with a frown. She knows the geography of the town as though it were the back of her hand, and so realises that the apartments at the back of the building overlook Gold's shop. What she's perplexed about is the fact that the three buildings that were once - in a time she knows nothing about - numbered individually from 30 to 33, have long since existed under the collective address of Elstead Place; the separate residences inside numbered one through ten.
No letters.
No 31 B.
Still, she's certain that there's some significance to the place now that she sees the opportunistic viewpoint as a factor. She knows there's significance to the place. Gold is sly and possesses a sense of vanity when it comes to his own cunning. He will have chosen the building for its location so as to keep an eye on his shop.
To surveil while she and the others failed miserably and fell for his trap. His decoy.
She's confused by the address on the insurance claims, but she will be damned if she is going to be bested by it. Pulling her coat firmly into place, she marches up to the first of the three doors and slips her skeleton key into the lock, dark eyes flashing at the scrape of metal on metal. Slipping inside, she stalks down the hallway slowly, raising her fist to knock on the first of the apartment doors, her other hand hidden within her silk-lined pocket as she fingers the butt of her gun.
"Go and get us something to eat. Get some juice for the Sheriff as well; something sugary and calorific. If she refuses her food, it will tide her over."
Gold orders as he checks in on the Hatter. Jefferson nods, unsure at what point he's become the pawnbroker's lapdog within the past thirty-odd hours. In truth, he's more or less unfazed by the turn of events, finding his present company a favourable change from the monotony of his solitude at home, but he grows weary of the little man's frequent threats. He supposes he will simply let such things slide until they become directed towards himself.
For now, he remains in Gold's good books, having complied with the pawnbroker's order to dose the slippery doctor, and he has since been left well enough alone; their alternating watch of the blonde uneventful and not worth arguing about.
He's glad that Gold had come to the decision to leave the Sheriff unrestrained following the disastrous conclusion of his previous efforts. As a result, they're taking it in turns to sit in on her to make sure she behaves, and he is growing quite fond of the curious young woman. She amuses him, and her caustic remarks to his rambled monologues have him breaking into sporadic gales of laughter which she finds hilariously alarming.
She had grown particularly nasty when he had broached the topic of her role within the Queen's dark Curse; hissing at him that she didn't know who in the hell he was, or why he'd been talking to her boy, but that he should shut off his lunatic ramblings before she shut them off for him. This cold threat had left him giggling shrilly as he had stared her down, weak and wounded on the bed; screaming with laughter to the point that the pawnbroker had come limping in to tell him to shut up. Frowning as the blonde had voiced her irritation at the subject of conversation, Gold had insisted that he leave the matter alone.
And he has.
Unwillingly.
Now, offering the Sheriff a brief wave in spite of the fact that she appears to be dozing, he slips from the room and dons his coat, nodding curtly at the pawnbroker who claims his vacated seat.
"How are you feeling, dearie?"
Gold inquires softly as he listens to the front door click quietly shut. His words are met by silence and he shrugs, unalarmed. The blonde's precarious condition has seemed to improve significantly since her injuries have been properly taken care of; her right hand sporting a stiff splint to keep fractured shards of bone from grating together in a way he imagines must have been sickening. He's unsurprised that she should finally be taken by natural sleep, and a little relieved.
He had been caught off-guard and highly suspicious upon catching her whispering conspiringly with the doctor, but she has since shown no further signs of trickery; simply sufficing to glare up at him reproachfully when in his presence, and he supposes that this is to be expected.
"Not long yet, I imagine, Miss Swan..."
He muses.
The Sheriff keeps her eyes closed, resisting the urge to frown as Gold's words set alarm bells ringing in her head.
Not long until what? What the fuck have you got planned now, you pretentious little psychopath? Not long... No... That doesn't sound good... Not good at all...
She has overheard enough of the men's conversations to understand that this all has something to do with Henry's book of all things; some sort of means of proof, and the Mayor.
Regina.
She's becoming increasingly concerned that the brunette is going to play a part in this madness sooner or later, and the thought terrifies her. She has yet to figure out what Gold actually wants with her, but she has even less of a clue what he would want with Regina, and such thoughts bring back the Mayor's uneasy frown as she had expressed fearfully that she didn't wish for Gold to have anything he could hold over her. She is aware that she appears to be missing a crucial part of the puzzle, but she decides that it doesn't really matter.
If the maniac wants to fuck with her, then that's just too bad and there's only so much she can do about it, given the circumstances.
She has found though, that when the stakes point to Gold going after Regina, such apathetic acceptance just won't cut it.
She won't degrade her current predicament by thinking of her actions so far as taking this ongoing madness lying down, but she has been made curiously aware of just how complacent she has become in regard to her own situation by the almost unbearable rage that courses through her at the thought of the little man laying a finger on the brunette.
It surprises her.
It frightens her.
It exhilarates her.
She has asked to use the bathroom twice now since Whale's attention to her injuries, simply nodding in response to the harsh threat in her ear that the room's window has been nailed shut and that any funny business would be punished.
At first, Gold had refused to let her go in with the door shut at all, but she had argued vehemently against such pointless humiliation.
She had argued because it is what is expected from her. As far as she's concerned, if the asshole wants to watch her pee, he can knock himself out.
But that wasn't the reason for her request.
She had wanted to gauge the state of her body; had wanted to see if her legs would remain compliant after the way they'd given up on her back in the bedroom. They had, and she'd been relieved to find that despite becoming rather lightheaded, the trip to the dingy little bathroom had been entirely manageable. Once inside with the door shut, she'd grimaced and performed a series of stretches; her vision swimming and her stomach threatening to give up its contents, but her muscles responding quickly and thankfully.
Knowing that she possesses the strength to leave the bed if she has to, her efforts are now trained on keeping this information a well-guarded secret from her captor. As such, she had purposefully stumbled on her return from her second trip, and she has learnt that by digging her wrists surreptitiously into the ill-sprung mattress, the resulting pain will leave her sweat-slick and chalk-faced; something about which the madman had cooed over gently with unwanted sympathy.
Lashes flickering as she hears Gold rise from his chair, she cracks her lids open as little as possible and watches as he moves to stand at the window to stretch his back. Realising that with Jefferson gone, and Whale - seriously, what kind of fucked up scam is this - lying drugged up and unconscious in the next room, this is perhaps her best chance, she decides to take it.
Her heart beats nervously, and despite her ingrained refusal to admit such a thing, she accepts that for the second time since waking up in this shit hole, she's terrified.
But that doesn't matter right now.
"Not long yet, I imagine..."
No. If things are going to close in on Regina, then she needs to suck it up and deal with it.
You touch her, and you're dead, you little shit.
Grinding both wrists into the mattress, she spares a second of blind hope that she's watched enough medical shows in her time to pull this off, before forcing an intense tremor through her body; shaking fitfully on the bed as she hears Gold turn towards the noise with a cry, his uneven footsteps hurrying over.
"Damn it!"
Regina snarls as she storms from the last apartment at the end of the dingy hallway; not bothering to offer an apology to the sleep-hazy patrons who had stepped back, alarmed, as the Mayor marched past them to inspect their home.
She is mentally exhausted, having checked each of the apartments overlooking the store, despite knowing in her heart that she would be unsuccessful.
Flat 31 B.
What the hell does it mean?!
The only use of the letter B apart from as a consecutive form of address that she can think of is 'Basement', but she's unsure whether this block of flats even has a basement, and she finds the idea of the blonde being kept underground to be highly unlikely for a couple of reasons.
The location of the building would be wasted should Gold not be able to spy on his shop.
And the insurance claims the waitress had presented her with were for damage to the roof and windows.
"So, what other theories do you have right now?!"
None.
No. none. But she isn't quite willing to accept that yet, and so makes her way back into the lobby in search of a door to the basement.
After five minutes of fruitless searching, she slams her fist against the wall angrily, concluding that the building doesn't appear to have a lower level at all. Shaking her head while trying to keep the frustration that prickles behind her lashes at bay, she slips from the building with gritted teeth.
Closing her eyes as the frigid chill of the winter wind ghosts across her face, she pauses for a moment, trying to pull herself together. A small noise to her left causes her to glance over distractedly, and she takes in a sharp breath as she makes out the retreating form of a shadowed man hurrying in the direction of Main Street. Frowning, she peers back towards the building and wonders where the curious figure could have come from. Retracing her steps slowly, she stops in her tracks as she looks to her side and notes a crooked hatch of rotting wood lining the drainpipe of the building at a slant.
A wood shaft.
Ignoring the voice in her head that screams at her to step away from such a place, she pulls back the unusually large slats of wood and ducks into the darkness beneath.
"Emma...?"
Her heart beats furiously in her chest as she feels blindly around the dirty brickwork for some form of light switch; telling herself over and over that it makes no sense that Emma would be down in a place like this.
She prays that she's right.
She's desperate to find the Sheriff, but this place is dark and cold, and her mind conjures up images of rats and roaches crawling over the bare concrete floor. She can't stand the thought of the blonde being cooped up in a place like this.
"Ah!"
She retracts her hand fearfully as something ghosts across her palm, before letting out a nervous chuckle when she recognises it for what it is.
A cord.
Pulling on it with bated breath, she blinks as the small space is immediately illuminated with a dull, yellow glow. Raising an eyebrow in surprise, she finds her mental image of the place to have been vastly fear-driven. The small room leads to a set of narrow stairs, which in turn lead to what she's astounded to find is a basement. The narrow space has been kept scrupulously clean and is sparsely decorated with a collection of neatly labelled boxes stacked against the wall. Freezing as her gaze falls upon a narrow white door over at the far wall, she closes her eyes, willing herself to go in that little bit further.
Making her way nervously over, she pulls the door open and finds herself faced with another staircase. Leaning against the wall, she holds her breath and counts to ten, banishing the fear that courses through her blood.
"Emma?!"
Gold looks on, horrified, as the Sheriff seizes fitfully on the bed. Hurrying over, he reaches out and grabs her shoulder, unsure how best to handle this most unwelcome situation.
"Hey! Hey! No! Don't do this!"
He admonishes her shrilly, and the blonde feels a weak sense of relief as she takes his audible panic as a sign that she has managed to pull her act off convincingly.
And now for the money shot...
She keeps broken tremors going for just a moment longer as strong fingers bury themselves desperately into her bicep in an attempt to hold her still, before freezing rigidly and relaxing with a low exhalation of breath.
Lying still, she forbids her chest from rising back up and keeps her body suggestively limp.
"Sheriff?... Emma!"
Gold shouts, shaking her roughly, and she makes a mental note to add this to the list of reasons she's doing this. Refusing to react, she waits for the inevitable and feels a deep wave of relief wash over her as the pawnbroker leans in - resting his cane against the bed - and bends down to check her pulse with his fingers while lowering his head to her chest.
Moving with violent speed, she sits up to crash against his forehead with her own; sending the little man stumbling backwards in surprise; his right eye squinted shut as warm blood trickles down his face from a split to his brow.
"What are you-"
He breathes, but she cuts him off.
She has little command over her hands following the damage done by the cuffs, and so simply throws her body against his; sending them both sprawling onto the floor. For a split second, she doubts her decision as she struggles to push herself up, but she is high on adrenalin, and despite her current state, she is naturally athletic and this now plays in her favour as she had gambled it would. Standing up shakily, she kicks the little man forcefully in the ribs, paying no notice to his pained plea for her to take pity on him, before honing in her aim and plunging him into darkness with a swift blow to the head. In her anger, she reaches for his cane, but her fingers refuse to grip it as firmly as she'd like, so she simply spits at the unconscious body of the pawnbroker as she struggles to get her breath back.
She is vaguely aware that she has torn some of the sutures to her wrists as warm blood trickles down her arms from beneath her bandages, but she finds that she doesn't much care.
"Fucking asshole..."
She growls hoarsely, but her rage is swiftly dampened by fear, as down below she makes out the faint noise of the door opening and closing.
No... No, that's not fair! I won this one! I'm supposed to get away! That's not fair!
She suffers no illusion that she is in a fit state to take on the madman. With Gold, it had been a case of trickery and deceit. With Jefferson, she knows she currently stands no chance of beating him in a fair fight. Eyes wide and breath ragged, she shakes her head in childish refusal to accept her situation; tears of frustration spilling down her cheeks.
"Fuck..."
She acts belatedly, casting a glance down at the bed before sprinting shakily for the bathroom and closing the door. She is immediately glad she hadn't been foolish enough to crawl beneath the bed, knowing full well that with the way her vision blurs as she falls back against the sink, she would never have been able to scramble free once found.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit..."
Regina steps into the silent apartment nervously. The place is small and ill-kept; the wallpaper and the furniture shabby. She doubts Gold uses it for much. Moving forward slowly, she gasps as her dark eyes fall upon the prone body of the doctor slumbering on the sofa. The dirty rag in his mouth and its twin curled around his wrists leave her doubting that Whale poses any threat, while subsequently serving to feed her fear of the pawnbroker ten-fold.
Moving slowly towards what she guesses to be the bedroom, she stills her breathing nervously and pushes the door open, her eyes flashing in apprehension.
"What?..."
It's barely a whisper, but it sounds horrifically loud to her own ears. Clamping her hand swiftly over her mouth, she stares down at the body of the pawnbroker in shock. Gold's brow sports a bloody smear, but aside from his limp, floor-bound state, he seems otherwise unharmed.
Which leaves her struggling to control her fear as her gaze falls upon the bloodied sheets that lay strewn across the bed.
"Emma?"
She mouths, willing herself to blink away the scarlet stains to dirty linen. Shaking her head, she struggles not to panic - struggles just to keep her thoughts sane - as she attempts to understand the scene presented to her.
Gold lies unconscious and wounded.
The doctor lies captive.
So where is the blonde?
Jumping as she catches the telling click of the door downstairs, she hurries over to the window only to find that it's been nailed shut. Turning back towards the bedroom door, she swallows as she stands with her back against the wall.
"... Emma?"
Her croaked address is quiet; laced with childlike hope.
The heavy footsteps that come from the other room cause her heart to sink. The Sheriff is hardly one to move with exceptional grace, but there is simply no way a woman of a hundred and twenty-odd pounds could be making that noise, boots or no boots.
As the owner of the footsteps stalks progressively closer, she slips her hand inside her coat pocket and pulls out her gun, her lips forming a nervous, bloodless line.
Jefferson glances disinterestedly at the doctor slumbering on the sofa. He's unsure just how potent the tea force-fed to Whale had been, simply because he hadn't taken the time to measure out the ingredients. With Emma, he'd been meticulous; knowing that if he were to get it wrong and cause her any sort of harm, Gold would make his life hell. With Whale... Well, what does it matter?
The paper bag he carries from the all-night convenience store rustles against his chest as he removes his coat before making his way over to the bedroom.
"Hey, Emma, I didn't know whether you liked apple juice or orange, so I got you grape instead. I-"
His words trail off as he takes in the scene inside the bedroom, gaze flashing down to Gold before honing in on the brunette with a frown of confusion which she matches uncannily as she trains the barrel of her gun to his chest.
"You...?"
Emma grits her teeth in frustration as she searches the medicine cabinet; coming up empty-handed. She's not sure what in the hell she's actually looking for, but she guesses she'd feel a whole lot better about her current predicament should she be holding a razorblade than not.
Her heartbeat is loud in her ears, and she wishes it would shut the hell up because she's having a hard time concentrating on the noises coming from beyond the door; confused by what had sounded like the door opening and closing yet again.
Imagining things, Swan, you're going nuts. Just hold your shit together a little longer and things will all be just peachy. The fucker will open the door and you'll... You'll... Fuck knows. Floss him to death. Drown him with mouthwash...
Yeah... You're fucking dead.
"No. He's not getting me that easy."
She mutters fiercely; negating to take the thought any further as she knows full well she hasn't got a plan.
Stilling as heavy footsteps take off in the direction of the bedroom, she closes her eyes; waiting for the aftermath of the madman's discovery.
"You...?"
Green eyes flash open as she would recognise that voice anywhere. Gripping the sides of the sink as her knees buckle beneath her, she forces her body to behave itself and wrestles with the lock on the door.
"You?..."
Regina's voice is hoarse with disbelief, unable to comprehend just how twisted the situation seems to have become. First Whale, now Jefferson?!
The Hatter nods, dropping his bag of candy bars and juice boxes to the floor as he grins manically down the barrel of the Mayor's gun. With a glance towards Gold, he steps forwards towards the brunette purposefully, his keen eyes glistening as he wonders just how long it will take for the stupid bitch to realise she still has the safety on in her fear.
Amateur.
Regarding the madman with wide eyes, the Mayor wills her voice to remain assertive.
"Where's Emma?"
She demands, and the Hatter glances over at empty sheets disinterestedly as he carries on moving towards the brunette, smirking as she pushes herself up against the wall.
"Gone? See for yourself..."
He points towards the bed, where the Mayor notes the silver cuffs that hang from the posts with mounting alarm.
"Tell me where she is!"
"Or you'll what? You'll shoot me?"
He sneers, before running at her without warning. Regina pulls the trigger on instinct; dark eyes flashing with fear when nothing happens. Dropping the gun with a cry, she yelps as Jefferson closes in on her; dodging past him by sheer luck as she ducks beneath his arm and sprints for the door.
"Oh, I don't think so..."
The tone of his voice is enough to stop her in her tracks, and when she turns around to face him, she knows before she sees it that he has found possession of the gun she's allowed to slip from her grasp.
"Jefferson... Let's talk about this... I-... I can help you... I can help you with your daughter, with Grace. I-"
"-Shut up! You had your chance! There isn't a single reason I shouldn't kill you where you stand! You left me to rot! You left my daughter without a father!"
"It doesn't matter! Don't you see?... If you kill me now, you'll never see her again... She'll never know who you are..."
"No... That's where you're wrong..."
Jefferson shakes his head, chuckling as he studies the brunette with glittering eyes. She's wrong. Gold may have warned him about killing the Queen due to his unsettled deal with the troublesome little Sheriff, but Gold is currently lying flat on his back with his head in the clouds.
Feisty little princess... All the more fun.
Gold's concerns are exactly that, for he is Jefferson, the Hatter, completely mad if some are to be believed, and he couldn't give a shit about some irrelevant deal made with the blonde. If he kills the Mayor, the Queen dies. If he shoots the pawnbroker, the Dark One vanishes, at least for a while. Then, all he needs to do is hunt down the Saviour - and he doubts it will be too hard to find a wounded woman staggering around town in her underwear - and blow her fucking brains out.
Then Grace will be his.
Forever.
"I'm not wrong. You need me!"
Regina insists, her knuckles white as she presses her hands nervously against the wall; backed into a corner as she had done to so many during her reign.
"No. I don't."
Jefferson growls, before the gun goes off and the brunette lets out a cry as she falls to the floor.
It takes her a moment to realise that it's not pain that courses through her, but surprise, and she struggles to pull herself from the sudden weight that pins her to the floor.
Her endeavours are thwarted when pale hands hold her firmly in place, the bony limbs digging into her ribs and side moving to lie flush on top of her as she remains sprawled out on the floor, her vision obscured by a veil of dirty curls.
A second gunshot echoes through the room, and she screams as this one sounds much closer than the first.
And then, there's silence, broken only by a heavy thud of flesh on wood.
She buries her face into the crook of her elbow as harsh breath whispers against her cheek.
"Are you okay?"
"... Emma?"
She swallows, and the Sheriff rolls off of her slowly, letting the gun fall from her shaking fingers with a sniff.
"I found it in his jacket... I'm sorry I took so long... I-"
"-Emma?!"
Regina repeats shrilly, and the blonde lets out a yelp as the Mayor pulls her into a tight embrace. She opens her mouth to tell the brunette to chill the fuck out, but shocks herself when all that comes out is a harsh sobbing as she buries her face into the darker woman's hair.
"Oh my god... Oh my god..."
Regina murmurs as she runs her hand over the exposed skin of the Sheriff's back, not caring that her own tears fall freely to catch in the younger woman's messy curls.
"Are you hurt?"
She asks, but before Emma has time to answer, her gaze falls to the dirty bandages dressing skinny wrists and she shakes her head. Pushing the blonde away so that she can inspect her properly, her mouth falls open as she takes in the younger woman's unhealthy pallor and the dried blood smeared across her ribs and thighs.
"Emma..."
The Sheriff simply shakes her head, wiping at her cheeks as she struggles to pull herself under control.
"You came to find me..."
"Of course I did!"
The Mayor cries.
"Y-you came... For m-me..."
Emma chokes, and Regina sighs as the blonde tries to save face and stop her breath from coming out in sobbing gasps, pulling the younger woman back into her embrace as pale arms wrap themselves around her neck.
"Of course I came for you! I love you!"
"I-... I-..."
Regina closes her eyes as tear-stained lips find her own, and fresh moisture cloaks her lashes.
"I love you, too."
The blonde breathes. It's a whisper, barely audible, but for the Mayor, it's enough, and she smiles against the younger woman's parted lips, playing her hand gently through tangled curls. A curious sensation of heat flashes through her without warning, and she frowns as she wonders if this is what love truly feels like.
Eventually, Emma pulls back, her face pale, but her eyes bright and her smile sincere.
"What do we do now...?"
Looking over at the men that lie sprawled on the floor, Regina frowns; inwardly commending the blonde for her brilliant question.
"Well, I suppose you're the Sheriff... It's up to you... But if you're open to suggestions, I propose we use those cuffs on Gold until you make a decision..."
She nods towards the bed.
"Yeah."
The younger woman agrees quietly. Regina moves over to the pawnbroker, inwardly wishing to tell the younger woman not to help as her attention falls again to bandaged wrists, but she knows Emma too well to attempt such a form of reasoning. Instead, she merely helps the blonde to hoist the little man onto blood-stained sheets; watching warily as the Sheriff struggles to snap the handcuffs shut with a silent sense of purpose.
"-What...?"
Both women glance up sharply as a voice interrupts their reunion from the doorway; each moving just a little as though to protect the other.
Whale stares at them in disbelief, the rag from his mouth held between his bound hands as he looks from the Sheriff to the Mayor.
"You!"
He glares accusingly at the brunette.
Glowering back fiercely, Regina's eyes widen in horror when she realises that it is not disconcertion that shines within those periwinkle orbs, but recognition.