"Emma?!"
"... No."
The blonde's response is little more than a choked sound, but this has nothing to do with her recent display of exertion.
The man on the floor seems not to hear her anyway - or, if he does, he takes no notice of her answer - as he simply stares up at the woman standing over him with a comically dropped jaw.
At least, it would be comical, if not for the situation.
Pulling himself together and swallowing thickly, Bae gets up with a wince; whether due to the sharp bite of pain his knees offer in protest, or in light of the hazy chaos of memories threatening to wash over him, he can't say for sure.
"Emma...?"
She's older, and there's a gritty, hard look to her once-sunny features that sets him on edge, but it's her.
There's no question.
She did it.
The wooden man was right.
She broke the Curse...
How else would she know your name? That name?
"Oh, my-... Oh my god! Emma! I-... I thought-... Shit..."
Words tumble from his lips which seem suddenly very dry as his emotions best him in his internal battle for self-composure, and he stumbles towards the blonde with his hands held out with the palms displayed up towards her, causing green eyes to flash briefly down to the crimson smears that muddy broken flesh to match the Sheriff's own markings from their fall.
"It's really you! I-... You-... Emma..."
Garbled nonsense, and Bae supposes he plans to embrace her - at least, his body seems to be leading him into the act of doing so - but it's a clumsy move; the elements of his brain responsible for his motor function preoccupied with the insanity of his current predicament.
He's confused.
He's elated.
He's struck by a sudden feeling of fondness that hurts in its intensity.
He's bewildered.
He's home.
"I can't believe it... It's you, it's really you! I thought I'd never see you again! I thought you-"
But his nonsensical serenade is cut short as his vision is suddenly impaired by curious white spots as a blinding pain shoots through the left side of his face; the Sheriff's knuckles catching the underside of his jaw and sending him staggering back into the rough brick of the buildings that play their backdrop.
"Em-"
But this time the pain is sharper - wetter - and he doesn't need to be a doctor to know that the hideous crunching sound his nose makes as her palm thrusts upwards with cruel skill is the result of cartilage giving up the fight.
"Stop!"
He neither pleads nor exudes anger; he's too overwhelmed with shock and confusion to offer the young woman that brings her knee up with a vicious jerk that threatens to have him spill his breakfast either of these more logical reactions.
A hard kick to the shins ignites pain but carries less finesse than her previous methods of assault.
A furious push of bloodied hands against his chest speaks of rage, but no skill.
Dimly aware that this is his window to bring a halt to the blonde's venomous beating, he takes hold of her upper arms and pushes her away with enough force to cause her to stumble.
A familiar glint in her eyes lets him know she will not be so easily deterred.
She comes at him again and he pushes her back reflexively, this time without striving for purchase, but by simply throwing his palms against her; catching her low in the stomach to elicit a weak whimper that juxtaposes with the heavy swing of her fist to the side of his head.
"Stop!"
Yes! Stop! Oh god, stop!
He's entirely in agreement but is momentarily confused as to whether the words come from his own lips.
"What the hell are you doing!?"
No. Not me.
No. A woman's voice. Some innocent bystander coming to his aid in this most peculiar and belated of lover's tiffs.
"Hey!"
Slim arms clad in expensive black wool circle the blonde's waist, and Bae opens his mouth to tell the pretty brunette keen on playing good samaritan that to do such a thing to Emma Swan is most certainly not a good idea.
"Emma!"
Wait... What? She knows her?
The young man bleeding against the wall frowns as, instead of coming to his rescue, the curious woman simply wrestles the frantic blonde behind her before bearing down on him herself.
"What did you do!? What-"
"-What's going on?!"
And this voice, he does recognise, and it sends a shiver through him unlike any he has felt since he was a small boy.
Gold limps into view with his eyes glittering dangerously; taking stock of the snarling Queen, the trembling Sheriff, and the bloodied young man that slouches defeated against age-cracked brickwork.
There are a great many years that have passed on between them, but he recognises his boy without a shadow of a doubt. Something in the way he stands; the way his mouth falls; the way he has yet to strike out at the insane bitch whose hands carry blood that isn't solely her own.
"Bae..."
He whispers as he moves in closer towards his son, but when he comes level with the two women that brought him here, he turns with a swiftness both startling and obscure given his seemingly infirm state.
"What have you done?!"
He spits at the blonde; his weathered face ruddy with rage.
This was your plan? Your ploy for vengeance? Your way of making me pay for what I did to you back in that room?!
He's surprised, having honestly expected more from the Swan woman than to stoop so low, but it's the only reason he can fathom she would have for her crazed attack on the shocked man surveying the three of them with mounting horror.
"You foolish girl!"
When he lifts his hand, Regina is quick to prepare to counter whatever punishment he might mean to deal the younger woman, but Gold is wise to the ways of love-struck stupidity, and the hard thrust of magic he sends out hits the Queen rather than the blonde; sending her sprawling onto uneven cobbles with a surprised yelp.
"Hey!"
Emma snarls at him, moving to hurry towards the darker woman and check on her wellbeing, but the pawnbroker intercepts her easily; moving with that curious grace once again so that she trips in her endeavour to dodge past him before backing her up against the wall.
He's furious over the callous trick she's tried to pull, and he has every intention of making her pay, but he has spent the last twenty-eight years enslaved in a body inept to wield his immense ability for power, and when he rounds on the blonde to dole out her punishment, the hard grip and swipe of his cane seems entirely instinctual.
Time seems to take on a new meaning - becoming cruelly slow, with each small movement lasting long enough to drink in and analyse - and the Sheriff's eyes widen before she brings her forearm up to shield her face; cringing back with her lashes clamped shut and her jaw clenched in anticipation, the hard shaft of the little man's cane catching the light of the hazy winter sun that does a poor job of penetrating the little alley in which they play out this strange tableau.
"No! Don't hurt her!"
Gold frowns as he brings down polished wood; his aim thrown off by his confusion in light of these words.
No. Not the words... The voice used to speak them.
For it's not Regina that cries out - although she does scream at the blonde to get down from her pained position on the floor - but his son; and when he's pulled roughly back by the shoulders, he drops his cane in surprise.
The sound of wood clattering down on rain-washed cobbles seems to bring its listeners back to the world of reason.
Gold blinks down at the silver handle of his makeshift weapon.
Baelfire breathes heavily and removes his fingers from the scrawny hollows of the pawnbroker's shoulders.
Regina lets out a shuddered breath and pushes herself up into a seated position with a wince.
Emma slides down the wall behind her - her sweater pulling up as it catches on the bricks - her aching arm still covering her face. Her wrist throbs with black agony where Gold's rage had fallen true, but she slowly realises she's otherwise unharmed.
Her fate is not immediately obvious to her onlookers, however, and the Queen crawls over fretfully; all grace and poise momentarily forgotten as her dress pants carry a large rip at the knee and her eyes remain wide with shock.
It's the newcomer who finally speaks up.
"... Emma?"
The blonde lowers her arm slowly, revealing features that are alarmingly pale and bloodless but bear no injury as she glances up at the man that speaks her name warily, before moving a little closer to Regina as her heart threatens to hammer straight out the confines of her chest.
The brunette reaches out to check the blonde's injured wrist, while the Sheriff shakes her head and taps away shaking fingers so that she might take a better look at the Queen's leg and assess the damage.
Bae watches on with dazed intrigue.
Gold watches on with a sudden sense of disquiet... A disquiet he can't quite place his finger on until his son's last utterance dawns on him.
Speaking in a hushed tone, his words resonate between the four of them as though he had announced them through a megaphone; each of them freezing and taking in a shuddered breath.
"Wait... You two know each other?"