A small trickle of sweat slid down from Belle's temple as she moved yet another box of seemingly random objects across the room, adding it to the growing pile of things that were waiting to be categorized. Ever since Mr. Gold's death four months ago, Belle had been alternating her time between keeping the town library running and going through the items he'd kept in his shop, trying to figure out the origin of each object so they could be returned to their rightful owners. Neal would occasionally stop by to give her a hand, but most of the time, he was off spending time with Henry. Not that Belle begrudged him of that. Even so, there were times when she would secretly admit that the task she'd assigned herself was a lonely one. Not that she hadn't been able to form friendships with the other people in town. Ruby would sometimes swing by on her break and keep her company while they had lunch together, and after being talked into attending one of Ruby's weekly girl's night outs, she found herself on fairly good terms with Ashley and Mary Margret. Unfortunately, the real problem hadn't been a lack of human interaction. By going through the various objects in Gold's shop, she was slowly coming to realize how little she knew her late love. But who could she possibly talk to about it? While nearly everyone in town had their own personal history with Rumpelstiltskin, she doubted anyone had even tried taking the time to actually know him. The only other person in Storybrooke who had been remotely close to him was Neal, but the man he'd known was completely different from the one who Belle had agreed to live with back in the Enchanted Forest.
Pushing those thoughts aside, Belle chose to focus on the task at hand. Turning to a large chest of drawers, she tried to check inside it, only to find that one of the drawers was jammed shut. Not to be deterred, she started working on forcing the stuck drawer open. She was so focused on her task, she didn't hear the bell above the shop door chiming, signaling someone walking in. A few seconds later, she gave one more tug, putting all her strength into it. All at once, the drawer flew open and Belle immediately fell backwards. As she began to fall, a pair of firm hands flew out and gripped her arms, holding her steady as she regained her footing.
"Thank you," Belle said as she turned to look at her rescuer, who turned out to be Jefferson.
"Don't mention it," he replied, stepping back once he was sure Belle was going to remain standing without his assistance.
"You'll have to forgive our intrusion," Hook spoke up, announcing his presence. "But we were hoping you'd grant us access to the library."
"You…want to use the library?" Belle asked, eyeing him incredulously.
"Yes. You were at the meeting the other day, so you know that people are disappearing. We found out yesterday that the person behind the disappearances might be using magic beans to escape detection. Perhaps there's something in your library that can help us track down the magic beans that were stolen from Anton's bean field. If we find the beans, we may find the person who's been using them."
"Why come to me, then?" Belle challenged. "You could have just broken in. You've done it before, remember? When you tried to kill me?"
"Oh." Hook blinked in response to this accusation before absentmindedly scratching at his ear. "Well, to be fair, I wasn't actually trying to kill you. I just figured the best way to trick the crocodile out of his shop would…."
"And what about at the town line?" Belle argued. Once again, Hook appeared taken aback.
"Sorry?" he said sheepishly. "Would you consider this my way of making it up to you?" Belle still didn't look quite convinced, but she agreed to grant them access to the library. When she stepped away to retrieve her coat and keys from the back room, Jefferson turned to Hook.
"Not one for apologies, are you?" he asked.
"It's not something I do quite often," Hook admitted. "One gets out of the habit."
"And what exactly did you do to her at the town line?"
"I….might have forced her over the town line so she'd lose her memories. I thought it was the best way to get revenge on Rumpelstiltskin for murdering my first love. I suppose it wasn't my finest moment." Jefferson paused for a moment before he replied, as if considering what he was just told.
"Well, I'm not one to judge," he said. "I once held Sheriff Swan at gunpoint to force her to make me a new magic hat, so I could reunite with my daughter. Of course, she didn't exactly cooperate with me. She hit me over the head with my telescope, instead."
"Oh, yes. That sounds like Swan, alright," Hook chuckled.
"The Wicked Witch? Are you sure?" Neal gaped, looking between Emma and Regina.
By the time Emma and Regina had made it back into town after their stakeout at the bean field, it had been pretty late, so it was decided that they would wait until the morning to explain what they'd find out. Of course, right when they'd started trying to explain things to David and Mary Margret at the loft apartment, Neal had chosen that moment to stop by to drop off Henry. Realizing there was no way to casually send them away again in an attempt to potentially keep Henry out of a dangerous situation, Emma had reluctantly opted to allow them to be present. Regina hadn't been too happy about it, but Mary Margret had spoken up in defense of Emma's decision, recalling what had happened when Granny Lucas had tried to shield Red from the truth about her identity as a werewolf. In the end, Regina had also relented, albeit begrudgingly.
"Well, there are certainly flying monkeys on the loose," Regina commented. "All signs are certainly pointing in that direction."
"But why would she be trying to go after us?" Mary Margret asked. "I hadn't even realized Oz was a real place."
"Maybe it's not us the Wicked Witch has a problem with," David suggested. "Regina, is there anything you might have done to anger her?"
"I haven't done anything to her," Regina huffed. "I've never even met her."
"So this isn't a personal vendetta?"
"Okay, we're not going to solve anything arguing amongst ourselves," Emma cut in, trying to maintain the peace. "Let's just focus on how we're going to find the Wicked Witch and figure out what she's done to the missing people."
"And how do you expect we do that?"
"Well, what do we know so far? We know the Wicked Witch is most likely the one behind the disappearances, and that she's been using the magic beans to travel back and forth between Storybrooke and the Enchanted Forest. But we have no way of figuring out where the missing people are being held, let alone where the Wicked Witch is currently hiding. Maybe it would be a good idea to stop by the library. Maybe there will be something there that could help figure out what to do next. Or maybe there's something about the Wicked Witch that would help shed some light on what she's after."
"Well, if you want to waste your time reading books, then you go right ahead." Regina said. "I'm going to go out and actually do something constructive. Now that I know who we're up against, I 'm going to scour the town limits for any trace of magic."
"Okay," Emma agreed. "Just be careful."
"I'll get my book!" Henry announced, running upstairs as Regina left. "I remember seeing something in there about flying monkeys, so maybe there's something about the Wicked Witch in there."
"Hey, Emma?" Neal said once Henry was out of earshot. "Can we have a word?"
"If this is about me learning magic…"
"No, it's not about that," Neal explained quickly. "It's about Henry." Emma's defensive expression vanished instantly and she agreed to speak with him out in the hall. As they stepped out of the apartment, David was alerted by Mary Margret's soft moan. Turning, he saw her sitting at the counter, holding her head in her hands in an obvious sign of distress.
"Hey, it's okay," David reassured her quickly, crossing the room to her side in an instant. "We'll figure out how to deal with this. We always do. After King George, Regina, Cora, and Pan, not to mention Medusa? The Wicked Witch should be no problem."
"It's not that, David," Mary Margret sighed, shaking her head. "It's just the timing of it all. Why did this have to happen now? Whatever the Wicked Witch is after, why couldn't she have waited a bit longer? After those four months of peace, I thought we could finally have the chance to move forward with our lives. I wanted the chance to announce our news without another threat hanging over our heads. But now? I'm afraid to tell people about it."
"I know," David consoled, pulling her into a gentle hug. "It's okay. We don't have to make any sort of announcement just yet. We can wait until the Wicked Witch is defeated."
"So, what do you want to talk about?" Emma asked once she and Neal were outside.
"I'm just thinking," Neal said. "We've now got the Wicked Witch out there, doing who knows what. And you might as well admit that no one knows what to do about it. Maybe it would be a good idea to get Henry out of Storybrooke. Just until this all blows over. I could take him back to New York with me. There were still a lot of places I wanted to show him back there, but I never got the chance, since we had to hurry back to Storybrooke after my father got poisoned." Emma frowned slightly as she considered Neal's offer. She could understand Neal's urgency to make sure Henry was out of harm's way. There was no telling what would happen to him with flying monkeys and the Wicked Witch on the loose. At the same time, she hadn't quite forgotten what happened the last time they'd considered sending Henry away from Storybrooke, back when Cora was a serious threat.
"Thank you for offering, Neal," Emma finally replied. "But right now, all I can do is promise I'll think about it."
Across town at the library, Jefferson was hunched over a table, flipping through a particularly large tome. He could hear Belle and Hook a few rows down from where he was standing as they went about gathering up more books to search through.
"Watch the cover on that one."
"Dealing with a hook, here."
"Hmmm," Jefferson muttered to himself. It was then that he realized he was actually smiling. He could not remember the last time he'd had a genuine smile on his face, apart from when his daughter was involved. He started to wonder if this was what it was like to have actual friends. He'd been living in isolation for so long, he'd almost completely forgotten how it felt to interact with other people. If his unexpected smile was any indication, he was actually liking spending this time with Belle and Hook. It almost shocked him how easy he found it.
His thoughts were interrupted by the feel of someone resting a hand against his arm. Upon turning to see who it was, he found himself standing face to face with Belle.
"I just realized," she announced. "I never got the chance to thank you."
"For what, exactly?" Jefferson asked, seemingly wary.
"For freeing me from the psychiatric ward. Right before the curse broke. If it hadn't been for you, I might still be there. So, thank you."
"Ah, you remembered that, did you?"
"Of course, I remember. Not including the nurse who would deliver my food and escort me to the bathroom twice a day, yours was the only face I remember seeing during the years the curse was in effect. I didn't get any visitors until the day you appeared and set me free."
"Yes, spending 28 years without any form of company is quite the ordeal," Jefferson agreed. "I can appreciate that all too well."
"You can?"
"When Regina created Storybrooke, I gained false memories, the same as everyone else. But Regina, for reasons I've never quite figured out despite having my suspicions, made it so I'd also remember who I really was. Imagine spending 28 years with two different lives warring against each other in your mind, without having anyone to commiserate with. It's just you, trapped in a town where you're the only one who remembers the truth. You can't tell anyone, because they'll just think you're crazy. After a while, even you start to question your own sanity. Is that other life you remember even real, or was it purely the invention of your troubled mind? But how could your memories of the life you lived in the Enchanted Forest be imagined when you remember an entire lifetime in some other world?" A very pregnant pause arose as Jefferson finished speaking, but he still continued to stare straight ahead with an expression that suggested his thoughts were a million miles away. Belle could only gape at him in shock and amazement. Had this man really had to endure that for nearly three decades?
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I can't imagine what that must have been like. But….at least you had memories that you could revisit. I couldn't remember anything before the curse broke. No memories of my childhood, either real or fake. No memory of any family or friends. All I could remember was a life inside that cell. There was nothing before that." Very slowly, Jefferson turned to meet Belle's eyes, giving her a strained smile of understanding and compassion.
"I suppose we've both suffered in our own way during those 28 years," he observed.
Once again a comfortable silence fell between them as they returned to skimming through the books laid out in front of them. It was Jefferson who broke the silence this time.
"For the record, I was sorry to hear about Mr. Gold's death," he said. "I admit, I never thought I'd see the day when Rumpelstiltskin of all people would actually fall in love, let alone give up his own life to keep her alive."
"Did you know him?" Belle asked, her eyes suddenly wide.
"In a way," Jefferson admitted. "There was a time when he and I were….not exactly friends, but we certainly worked together for a while. I was a thief with a magic hat that allowed me to travel to other realms, and he was highly interested in obtaining objects from those other realms. I'm sure you can figure out the rest. But we parted ways after my wife, Priscilla, gave birth to our daughter. I was no longer willing to continue my life as a portal-jumper. We had Grace to think about, now. So I put away my magic hat for what I intended to be for good. I suppose after that, Rumpelstiltskin decided he could no longer benefit from me, and our semi-partnership came to an end." Nodding in understanding, Belle turned back to the books, wiping away a sudden tear.
"I just wish…we had been able to have a real funeral for him," she confessed. "We couldn't even bury his body."
"Yeah, I know how you feel," Jefferson agreed with a heavy sigh. "I was never able to make sure Priscilla got a proper burial, either."
"Your wife?" Belle gasped, looking up at him in shock and horror. "She's…?"
"Yes. It was my carelessness that caused it. When Grace was only two, we found ourselves short on money. I was so desperate to provide for our small family that I once again ventured into another realm with the intention of stealing a valuable item and selling it back in the Enchanted Forest. But I didn't get the item I was after. Instead, I was captured and held prisoner. Priscilla had to come to Wonderland after me in order to rescue me, but when we were trying to escape, she was struck down by an arrow. With her last breath, she told me to leave her behind and return home to Grace. I…I had to leave her body behind, or our daughter would have lost both her parents that day. To this day, I don't know what happened to Priscilla's body. I probably never will." Once again, Belle could only stare in dismay over what she'd just heard. Then, ever so slowly, she once again reached out to place her hand over his in a gesture of sympathy and understanding.
"I know I said it already," she said. "But I'm sorry. I truly am sorry for your loss."
"Thank you," Jefferson replied, giving her an awkward smile of gratitude. For a brief moment, they simply stood in silence, but then Jefferson cleared his throat, feeling awkward. It had just occurred to him that this was the longest conversation he'd had with anyone since Storybrooke had been created.
"I'm going to make some tea," he announced. "It might help us focus a bit more."
"That sounds nice," Belle said. "I do like tea. There's a coffee corner located near the reception desk. You should find what you need there." Jefferson merely jerked his head once in what appeared to be an attempt as a nod and then slipped to the next room over to search for the library's coffee corner.
Regina made her way through the woods surrounding Storybrooke, occasionally testing the air for any sign of unfamiliar magic. Unfortunately, while she occasionally sensed a trace of it, she could tell that it was just the residual energy of fairy magic, or ambient radiation from the diamonds growing in the mines below.
Out of nowhere, she heard the sound of a branch snapping behind her. Instantly on the alert, she spun towards the sound, getting a fireball ready to launch at the first sign of a flying monkey.
"Show yourself, you winged freak," she ordered. The moment she was done speaking, she saw a figure step out from behind a tree. In a knee-jerk reaction, Regina threw her fireball at the figure, who dodged just in time before responding by shooting an arrow at her, which she caught effortlessly. A stifling silence filled the air as the two stared each other down.
"Apologies, milady," Robin finally said. "I thought you were someone else."
"And I thought you were a flying monkey," Regina replied, tossing the arrow aside.
"I do hope my mistake hasn't cost me my head, Your Majesty."
"So, you know who I am."
"Your reputation in the Enchanted Forest precedes you."
"I didn't catch your name.
"Robin of Locksley at your service."
"Ah, the vagrant that was found in the bean field," Regina observed. "What exactly are you doing out here?"
"Probably the same thing you're doing. My son is still out there somewhere. He was taken by that winged monstrosity. I might have agreed to wait until your staff of healers made sure I was unharmed when I was brought here, but the moment they said I was free to go, I wasn't about to wait a moment longer before coming out to find him."
"Oh. Yes, Emma and the Uncharmings did say something about your son," Regina recollected. "Even so, do you really think you can bring the Wicked Witch down with sticks?"
"Well, I'm certainly going to try," Robin responded, instantly on the defensive. "If it was your son out there, wouldn't you do whatever you could to find him?" At these words, Regina's face twisted in a sense of empathy, her mind going back to how she felt when Henry was kidnapped and taken to Neverland. Robin, taking Regina's silence as his cue to leave, started to walk off further into the woods.
"Wait!" Regina called after him. "Perhaps…we can help each other."
"How?" Robin asked, turning to look back at her.
"You're looking for your son," Regina explained. "And if he was taken by a flying monkey, chances are he's being kept wherever the Wicked Witch is hiding. So, if we find your son, we might be able to find the Wicked Witch's hiding spot. Therefore, we'll both get what we want."
"While I don't find a flaw in your logic, it does largely depend on the matter of finding Roland."
"And, with my help, you might be able too. I can create a potion back at my vault which could help lead us both to where your son…Roland, was it? Well, a locator spell should lead us right to him. All we'd need is something that belonged to him."
"Would this do?" Robin offered, reaching into his bag and pulling out a wooden spinning top. "It's Roland's favorite toy. My wife carved it for him while she was pregnant."
"Yes, I believe that would work nicely," Regina agreed.
Within the storm cellar located just behind the abandoned farmhouse, a legion of flying monkeys was congregated, shifting around in wait for nightfall to arrive again. Occasionally, one of the monkeys would let out a piercing screech in an attempt to let out its frustration. All the monkeys present were eager for the chance to get out and spread their wings, but Zelena had made it clear that, to avoid widespread detection, no one was allowed to set foot outside before sundown. At least, not until she had the chance to actually confront Regina face-to-face. So the flying monkeys continued to sit and wait. None of them paid any attention to the small, trembling boy in the large cage at the back of the storm cellar, pressed up against farthest corner in an obvious attempt at keeping as far away from the monkeys as possible. Occasionally, Roland managed to chance a look at the flying monkeys that surrounded his cage, but each time he caught a glimpse of the sharp teeth or glowing red eyes, he would immediately shield his eyes again in fright.
"Papa," Roland whimpered silently, tears making their way down his cheeks. "Papa, where are you?"
AN: For the record, I'm not getting any joy in putting precious little Roland through this. I can promise, however, that this is the worst he'll have to endure in this story.
On a personal note, I really enjoyed writing the interaction between Jefferson and Belle in this chapter. While the actual show never really touches on it, which is probably to be expected given how much material has to be covered in each story arc, I tend to wonder how much psychological damage these two suffered because of the curse. I imagine that could have been a significant bonding factor between them, if Jefferson had became a series regular. Also, if anyone is wondering, the backstory Jefferson talked about in regards to his wife was taken from the Once Upon a Time Graphic Novel. Not sure how much of the graphic novels should be considered canon, but the information is listed on the OUAT wiki page. So, it probably counts.