Chapter Twenty-One: Over the Line

In the twenty-eight years of the curse, Leah had never once set foot in the convent. There had been no reason to – she had little to do with the nuns, and even if others had occasionally sought out the Mother Superior for advice, she had never felt the need.

Now, though, she walked up to the building without hesitation. It was her second visit here in only a matter of days, the first being when she had sought out the Blue Fairy's help to make the cells in the sheriff's station impervious to magic.

And look how well that had turned out.

She sighed, and stepped inside the convent. The main doors opened into a long hallway with hardwood floors so well polished she could see her own reflection in them. The ceiling of the hallway held severally dimly lit chandeliers, and she frowned at them for a moment before turning her attention to the nun – fairy – approaching her.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked. She was diffident, and could barely meet Leah's gaze, but there was something sweetly earnest in her brown eyes.

Leah nodded. "I'm looking for the Blue Fairy," she explained, a hint of impatience in her voice. She really wasn't sure what to call the fairy. Blue? Was that even a name? Did she have a name? What did others call her?

"Oh, well…" the younger woman hesitated, glancing over her shoulder down the hallway. "I'm not sure if she…"

"It's alright, Nova," a new voice said, and the Blue Fairy emerged from one of the side rooms with a click of heels on the well-polished floor. She studied Leah for a moment, her expression unreadable, then said, "I will of course speak to Queen Leah."

Nova nodded and hurried away, eyes downcast.

The Blue Fairy gestured for Leah to follow her, and stepped back outside convent. Leah followed, watching silently as the fairy pulled the door firmly shut behind her. They stood on the porch underneath the roof overhang, protected from the light rain that had started, though not from the bitterly cold wind.

Winter in Maine was not exactly pleasant.

"How may I help you this time, your Majesty?" the Blue Fairy finally asked, a slight edge to her voice. Obviously, she had learned just who Leah had locked up in the fairy-dust fortified cell, and was displeased.

But Leah did not care about her displeasure.

She knew she had to tread carefully, though. The Blue Fairy's manners might require her to refer to Leah as your Majesty, but that did not mean she respected the other woman's authority. And now that memories and magic had been returned to Storybrooke, the fairy had a distinct advantage in any conflict that might arise.

Leah pursed her lips. It was a bit concerning that she was already worried about conflict with the fairies, but the Blue Fairy's manner gave her no reason to believe they would ever be on friendly terms. Either Leah was becoming paranoid, or Storybrooke might be faced with very dangerous discord.

"Ruby Lucas escaped from prison," Leah stated flatly, watching the fairy intently.

The Blue Fairy stared in complete surprise. "She… what? How?" she demanded.

"I was hoping you could answer that," Leah replied curtly.

The Blue Fairy shook her head and pulled her navy blue cloak tightly around herself. The wind tugged a few strands of dark hair free from her trademark plait, and she flicked them aside uneasily. "It wasn't by magic," she said slowly.

"Are you sure?" Leah pressed, doing her best to keep all accusation out of her tone.

"Of course," the Blue Fairy answered, eyes narrowed slightly. Then her expression smoothed and she added, "Is it possible that someone was able to procure an extra key to aid in her escape? My spell only protected against magic. The cell lock will still open with the appropriate key."

Leah nodded. "We have considered that," she said, "but there are only two keys, and both are accounted for."

"Then perhaps whoever has them is responsible for this," the fairy suggested.

Leah shook her head and looked away, out towards the town. Stefan had one key, Charles the other. She sincerely doubted either of them had assisted in the werewolf's escape.

The Blue Fairy stepped to her side. "I don't know what else to tell you, your Majesty," she said softly. "There is no way the cell opened by magic."

"If you're sure…"

"I am."

Leah heaved a sigh. She saw no sign of deceit in the Blue Fairy's expression, but that did not mean that the other being was not a consummate actress. Someone had helped Ruby Lucas escape, and Leah had every attention of figuring out who it was and how they had done it.

She left the convent a few minutes later and walked down to the street towards the two loyal guards who were waiting. She hated having them follow her everywhere, and had even managed to convince Stefan that she didn't need them for a couple days, but now he was back to insisting that she have some sort of protection with her. And she couldn't really blame him for that; they could both feel the bitterness simmering beneath the surface of the town.

She paused and looked back at the convent.

"She calls me your Majesty," she mused quietly.

"Pardon, your Majesty?" one of the guards asked with a frown.

Leah shook her head. "Nothing," she murmured, waving away the guard's concern.

But her own concern was not so easily ignored. The Blue Fairy called her your Majesty out of deference. But the few times Leah had seen the fairy interact with Snow and James, she had always called them Snow and James, a sign of friendship.

And that distinction, deference and friendship… that mattered.

"It isn't working," Sidney said, dropping his arm from the mirror and leaning against the wall in exhaustion.

Regina let her own hand slide down from the mirror and tried to ignore the stinging ache behind her eyes. Everything hurt, and every attempt at forcing her magic into the mirror had only made it worse. It was strange, different – like she couldn't control the power anymore.

She glanced over at the staircase where Henry was sitting, watching her with a sullen pout. She knew he was upset – she'd refused to let him leave the house all day, and now that it was late afternoon he was only allowed at Mary Margaret's home because Regina and Sidney had decided to meet there to work on the plan to reach Emma.

Regina would have preferred the safety and comfort of her own home, but the thought of adding Sidney to the list of people who could pass through the barrier to her house made her uneasy. It wasn't that she didn't trust him, it was that…

She frowned. No, it actually was that she didn't trust him. She didn't know him anymore, didn't know if she could manipulate him as she had been able to do in the past, and given all the distrust and anger that he very clearly felt for her, she could only imagine the damage Cora could do if she got her claws in him.

"Why isn't it working?" Henry asked, interrupting her thoughts. "Can't you get through? You're the magic mirror!"

"I was," Sidney said brusquely. He ran a hand over his face, then added, "Using someone else's magic is not easy, and Regina's is…"

He trailed off and didn't finish the sentence, but instead gave Regina a curious look.

Regina turned away from him and walked over to the chair Mary Margaret had pulled out for her when they had first arrived. She didn't want to think about her magic, didn't want to think about how grating it felt right now. Ever since magic had come to this land, it had been different – harder to control, more raw, more emotional – and she had assumed that that was merely the result of it not belonging here. But ever since her mother had returned, her magic had felt…

Different.

Regina closed her eyes for a moment, and drew a deep breath. She doubted she could explain that difference to Sidney. She couldn't even come up with the words to describe it to herself.

"How does this plan even work?" David asked from his spot leaning on the kitchen counter next to Mary Margaret, yet another person intruding on Regina's weary thoughts. "How you are two getting into the mirror?"

"We're not getting into the mirror," Regina retorted, slanting him a dismissive look. "We are merely using the mirror as a conduit to our land in an attempt to locate Miss Swan."

"And what does that entail?"

"Why do you care?" Regina retorted. "It's magic – you wouldn't be able to understand even the basics of it, let alone the complexities, and I'd rather not waste time on a lecture."

David glared at her. "I might be able to help," he replied. "Mary Margaret might as well. It wouldn't hurt you to tell us why it isn't working." He paused, then added, "She's our daughter."

"Yes, I know," Regina answered coolly, her words ice to his fire. "I don't need the reminder of that."

"Regina, please," Mary Margaret said softy, interrupting the argument before it could build into anything larger. "We might not know anything about magic, but four heads are better than two."

Regina pursed her lips and glanced at Henry. He was only partially paying attention, and his eyes had wandered to the door. She wondered for a moment if he was plotting an escape.

"Regina?"

She looked again at Mary Margaret, and felt a wave of irrational fury at the concern reflected in the younger woman's eyes.

She stood up and walked back to the mirror, studying her reflection.

"The intricacies are too difficult to explain," she said, "but I can tell that it is not working because we aren't grounded. Well…" she glanced at Sidney, "he isn't grounded."

"Grounded?"

That question came from Henry, and she softened her tone as she answered, "We are operating under the assumption that Sidney's familiarity with mirrors will allow him to channel my magic into gaining access to one of the many mirrors he inhabited in our old land. Unfortunately, dear, as the Magic Mirror, Sidney moved around quite a bit, appearing in any reflective surface to which I summoned him, or to which I sent him." She gave him a weary smile, and then gestured to Sidney as she finished the explanation, "Right now, instead of being able to access a single mirror, Sidney is seeing glimpses of all of them."

"Every mirror you ever inhabited?" Henry asked, intrigued. "Is that a lot?"

"Yes," Sidney said, his tone cold. Regina gave him a pointed glare, disliking his use of that tone with her son, but he ignored her and said to David, "All I can see are brief snatches of destroyed landscapes, abandoned towns, and empty rooms. I cannot control where I go or what I see, which means I have no hope of finding Sheriff Swan." He rubbed his hands on his shirt, leaving a damp trial of sweat.

"There weren't mirrors around us when we were in the woods, and I am sure Cora was spying on us then," Mary Margaret said curiously.

"I'm not my mother," was Regina's clipped response. She paused, then reluctantly admitted, "She can do things that I cannot. She is not limited by the necessity of using Sidney's abilities."

"And now she has my book," Henry said.

Regina turned to him. "I know, dear, but you don't need the book anymore." The curse was broken – everyone remembered their past lives, and Henry no longer needed to use the stories in the book to attempt to make sense of the strange town. He didn't even need the book to understand people's histories – he could just ask them.

"But why did your mother want it?" Henry pressed. His eyes darted around the room, holding each of the adults' gazes in turn, before he asked, "What does she plan to do with it?"

I don't know, Regina thought, and that worried her. She had no idea what all was in the book, or what secrets Cora might glean from it, but she did know her mother. Cora had always been so very good at using people's pasts against them.

"See?" Henry said stubbornly when no one offered an answer. "You don't know why she wants it. We should be investigating this. We should be doing something."

"Henry…" David started.

"No! If I'd taken the book with me when I went into the kitchen, or if Granny had told me what she suspected earlier so I could have gone back for it…"

"Henry," Regina cut in firmly, crossing the small apartment and crouching down in front of him, "listen to me. The book doesn't matter. It is just a book. It isn't worth you confronting my mother. It isn't worth what she could have done to you."

"Regina's right," Mary Margaret agreed. "Granny got you away from Cora, and that is all that matters."

Henry pouted childishly for a moment, but then nodded his head in reluctant agreement.

Regina gave him a half-smile and rose back to her feet. She carefully avoided looking at Mary Margaret – the fact that the two of them agreed on anything was disconcerting at best, and having Mary Margaret come to her support brought back emotions Regina desperately wanted to forget.

She looked at Sidney. "Our theory is sound," she said. "We just need more practice."

"Practice?" he echoed. "I doubt it." He gazed at the mirror for a long moment, then said, "It isn't lack of experience that is preventing this. The magic here… it's different. Unfamiliar."

"Well, can't you then just do something to make the magic more familiar?" David asked.

Regina gazed at him with utter contempt. "Yes, dear," she drawled sarcastically, "because it is as easy as that. Why ever didn't I think of simply changing magic?"

David glared at her, but Mary Margaret rested a hand on his arm to forestall his retort.

"If you can't change the magic, can you change something else?" she suggested.

Regina considered this for a moment. Although her first instinct was to dismiss any suggestion Mary Margaret made, she hesitated for a just a moment. Her gaze slid back to the mirror, and she frowned.

"Maybe," she said.

"It might help," Sidney agreed, knowing immediately what she was thinking. He gave Regina a searching stare, then asked with an unreadable expression, "Do you have it? Did you bring it with you?"

"Yes. Yes, it's here."

Sidney nodded, and there was something in his eyes that Regina didn't understand.

He looked away from her, back to the mirror. "And the other?"

"Where I left it – home." Regina sighed, thoughtful. "It might work," she conceded.

"What might work?" Mary Margaret interrupted impatiently.

"Using more familiar mirrors," Regina replied, though she offered no other explanation beyond that.

If the magic was not easily controlled, and if the unfamiliarity could not be changed, then it might benefit them to use mirrors that were familiar. The mirror in Mary Margaret's apartment held no particular meaning for Regina or Sidney, and thus had no emotion attached to it. The lack of emotion meant that it was harder for Regina to access her magic, and the lack of familiarity meant it was harder for Sidney to conjure up any images.

But…

The original mirror the Genie had cursed himself into, the very mirror he had given her as a present so that she could see herself the way he saw her – beautiful… She still had that, in the mayor's mansion, and it had both familiarity and emotion.

"What mirrors are familiar to him?" David snapped when it became clear that Regina was not going to elaborate aloud on her thoughts.

"Regina has one here," Sidney said vaguely, "and there is another in her castle. That is the mirror I inhabited most frequently, and – if familiarity is the concern here – it should be easier to access than any other."

"But if that mirror is the only one you can access, doesn't that mean that you will only be able to see what is inside my mom's castle?" Henry protested. "How will you find Emma?"

"Once I am grounded in that mirror, I may be able to access other ones," Sidney answered.

"May?" Henry repeated, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "You may be able to?"

"It is a first step, at least," Regina answered for Sidney. Her words were cautious; she did not want to give Henry false hope. It might not work at all, but at the moment it was all they had. "And if Sidney can find his way to that mirror, then the Blue Fairy can help us further. With her added power, I think we will have a very good chance of finding Emma."

"By looking through every mirror that Sidney has ever inhabited, one at a time? That could take forever. And what if Emma isn't near one of the mirrors? What if she is in the ocean?" Mary Margaret questioned worriedly.

"With my magic and the Blue Fairy's magic, we might be able to expand our search to any reflective surface," Regina offered tiredly.

"Might?" Henry interjected again, repeating his earlier complaint. "You might be able to?"

"It's our best chance, Henry," Regina said softly. "I don't have any other way to reach our land. But Sidney has experience, and the Blue Fairy and I have magic, and with a little bit of creativity, I believe we have a chance. A good chance."

She wasn't sure if this was false hope. They did have a chance, but there were no guarantees, and she did not want to tell Henry that everything would work out perfectly because it very well might not.

There was a moment of silence as everyone absorbed what she had said.

"We can try again tomorrow," Sidney said.

"Why not today? Why not now?" David demanded sharply.

Sidney gave a snort of contempt and replied, "Regina is exhausted, and I'd rather not risk her losing control of her magic and destroying me."

Regina wanted to protest the statement, though she knew it was true. But admitting to exhaustion was showing weakness, and she could not bring herself to do that in front of Mary Margaret and David.

"I'm fine," she said.

Sidney didn't bother responding to that comment, not even to call her out on her obvious lie. "Tomorrow," he said firmly, then turned on his heel and stalked out of the apartment.

Regina watched him go.

They were walking a fine line here. She didn't know how magic worked in this world, and she didn't know whether or not what they were doing would put him in danger. But it certainly seemed like it could, and he had every reason to be worried. One misstep, and she might end up forcing him back into the mirror – something he clearly was desperate to avoid.

"I think it would be for the best if Henry stayed here from now on," David started.

"No!" Regina whirled on him, weariness forgotten. "Absolutely not." Her protest was immediate, and vehement, and she tried to ignore the way Henry's face lit up at the possibility of spending more time with his heroic grandparents.

"It really isn't your decision, Regina," David retorted fiercely.

"Have you forgotten what nearly happened? My mother…"

"Was not after him," David cut in harshly, unyielding. "She was obviously after the book, or she would have simply taken him." He paused, glancing at Henry for a moment, before saying in a calmer voice, "If your mother is as powerful as you and Mary Margaret say, she would have been able to take Henry from the diner by force."

Regina shook her head, "My mother doesn't do anything by force," she answered. "Not if she can avoid it."

But that wasn't entirely true – Daniel's lifeless body on the floor of the stables was proof enough that Cora had no compulsion against getting her hands dirty killing someone. She might prefer something more subtle, but if she had truly wanted Henry, she would have merely taken him.

But that didn't mean that Henry was safe.

"Regina," Mary Margaret said softly, giving Regina an unusually shrewd look, "why do you think your mother was at the diner?"

"I don't know," she lied.

David seemed about to argue the point, but Mary Margaret gave him a brief shake of her head and said to Regina, "We have no objection to Henry staying with you, but that means we will be staying as well."

It was an ultimatum, and judging by the eagerness on Henry's face, Regina knew she had no hopes of changing anyone's mind. She was on the losing side, and, in Henry's eyes, she would never be able to measure up to Mary Margaret or David. Whatever protection that barrier might offer against her mother, it could not protect her against them – or against the knowledge that she was now third in her son's heart.

She studiously avoided all of their gazes as she weighed her options. The idea of having to play host to those two idiots rankled, but she would not give up her son.

"Very well," she said in a clipped tone.

"Awesome!" Henry exclaimed.

As David walked over to the stairs to talk to Henry, Regina found Mary Margaret still giving her that searching look. Mary Margaret had questions, and she rightly assumed that Regina had an answer but was unwilling to give it.

Regina gritted her teeth and held the younger woman's gaze for a beat, then looked away, too tired to play this game.

She was fairly certain her mother had taken the book on a whim. An opportunity had presented itself, and she had not hesitated to seize it. And who knew what she could do with the information in that book?

But the real reason behind the visit had been something different, something far more disturbing.

It had been a message to Regina; no matter what she did, no matter what spells she tried, what defenses she erected, what allies she made, Cora could always find a way to get past them.

Henry would never be safe.

After Regina had left – taking a protesting Henry with her – Mary Margaret leaned against the kitchen counter and stared at the mirror opposite her, almost hoping she would catch a glimpse of Emma on the other side.

"I don't like the idea of staying with Regina," David said.

Mary Margaret turned to him with a slight shrug. "I don't, either, but…" She tilted her face up to hold David's gaze, "she's been different since I've gotten back. She's… she's not the same, not the way I remember her."

"Do you trust her?" David asked.

Mary Margaret frowned. "No," she admitted slowly. "I don't trust her not to hurt me, not to hurt you. But…" She shook her head and sighed. "I've seen the way she looks at Henry. I've seen that look before; I know what it means."

"You trust her with Henry."

It was a statement, not a question, and Mary Margaret responded with another half-hearted shrug. "Don't you?"

David didn't reply.

The subdued conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door, and Mary Margaret answered it, surprised to find the Mother Superior standing there.

"Come in," Mary Margaret said, stepping aside and ushering the other woman into the apartment.

"Miss Lucas has escaped," Mother Superior said without preamble.

"What? How?" Mary Margaret demanded, feeling a mixture of fear for her friend and elation that this farce of an investigation and trial could not go forward.

"I don't know," Mother Superior replied grimly. "It cannot have been by magic – of that much I am certain. Someone must have gotten hold of the key. But I don't know who or why." She hesitated. "Or how."

"And idea where Ruby is?" David asked quickly, looking between the Mother Superior and Mary Margaret.

Both shook their heads.

"Leah believes that this was your doing, Snow," Mother Superior continued. "And mine, as well."

"She said that?"

"Not in so many words, no," Mother Superior said, pursing her lips. "But it is what she thinks." She folded her arms across her chest, and added, "She came to speak to me, to ask if I had any idea how this could have happened. It's wasn't quite an accusation, but…" she trailed off uneasily.

"Who cares what Leah thinks?" David grumbled. "This whole situation was ridiculous. At least Ruby is free now."

"Perhaps," Mother Superior murmured with a nod of her head "but she is in great danger. If they find her, if they recapture her – she fled, James. It only makes her look guiltier."

"We need to find her," Mary Margaret said, exchanging a worried look with David. "And quickly." She turned back to the Mother Superior. "Is there anything you can do to help?"

The Mother Superior shook her head reluctantly. "I dare not."

"But…" David started angrily.

The Mother Superior held up a hand, forestalling his protest. "Leah is already suspicious of my alliances, and now that it appears that the prison cell did not hold as well as it should have, I fear that Leah will make her suspicions more widely known. I cannot do anything that would appear biased."

"Why not?" David demanded. "Leah's wrong – surely you know that. Ruby is not a killer."

"I agree that it is hard to fathom her murdering anyone in cold blood," Mother Superior replied carefully, dodging David's question. "But I must remain neutral in this."

Mary Margaret huffed. She understood – logically, at least – the need for the fairies to remain impartial in disputes between warring kingdoms, but the Blue Fairy had helped them against the Evil Queen in the past. Why was this different?

The Mother Superior correctly read the expression on Mary Margaret's face, and said gently, and with a hint of censure, "That was not a battle between kingdoms, Snow. That was a battle between Good and Evil, and that made it different. For all her prejudice and all her faults, Leah is still not the Evil Queen."

"Fine," Mary Margaret said, nodding. Snow had trusted the Blue Fairy, and she trusted the Mother Superior, and maybe this conflict was different. It was true that Leah was not slaughtering entire villages and using dark magic, after all.

"Besides," Mother Superior added, "there is evil here to fight. I will focus my energy on fighting Cora and rescuing your daughter."

Mary Margaret accepted this in somewhat annoyed silence, then said, "I'll talk to Leah. Maybe I can convince her that I am just as puzzled by this as she is. Maybe I can convince her that… that…" She shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. Maybe I can convince her to actually think about all this instead of leaping to conclusions."

"I wouldn't count on it," David growled.

Mary Margaret glanced at him, then let her gaze slide past until she was staring at the mirror again.

All she saw was her own reflection staring back.

The sun had nearly set by the time Mary Margaret made it to the sheriff's station, her thoughts still full of questions about Regina and motives and trust. And Emma. All the lights in the building were on, and when she opened the door she was immediately confronted by the sound of heated conversations, and by two guards blocking her way.

She scowled at them. They'd kept her out of the station while Ruby was there, but Ruby was gone now, and whatever was happening, she had every right to be part of it.

"Excuse me," she said politely, keeping her temper in check as she tried to step past them.

"I'm sorry, your Majesty, but Queen Leah has insisted that no one is allowed to enter," one of the guards said, holding up his hand to stop her.

"Obviously people have entered," Mary Margaret replied sardonically, gesturing towards the open doorway behind them through which they could all hear the sound of raised voices.

"At the permission of King Stefan and Queen Leah," came the unruffled reply.

Mary Margaret lifted her chin and said defiantly, "Leah has no right to keep me out. This is not her kingdom, and this building is not her castle. Now, please – step aside."

The two guards exchanged wary looks, and Mary Margaret felt a sudden rush of sympathy for the position in which they found themselves. They were sworn to Stefan and Leah, and they were loyal, and they took pride in that. But they could not argue with Mary Margaret; Leah did not have a right to bar her from the station. And so they were caught between following unjust orders or refusing to serve their queen.

Mary Margaret sighed. "Could you please tell Leah that I am here, and that I am not leaving until she comes to speak to me," she said finally, settling on a compromise that would give the guards a way out.

One of the guards nodded and hurried from the entryway.

He reappeared a moment later with Leah behind him, and behind Leah came Stefan, Charles, Primrose, and Midas.

"I guess I didn't get the invitation to the meeting," Mary Margaret said, glancing over everyone there with an ironic smile forming on her lips.

"It was an impromptu gathering," Leah said, waving away the guards and giving Mary Margaret a searching look. "Nothing planned, I assure you."

Mary Margaret had the feeling that Leah wouldn't hesitate to lie if it suited her needs, but Charles was nodding as well, and his agreement made her think that Leah was actually telling the truth.

She nodded. "I see," she said softly. "How quickly news travels, then."

"The fact that someone has enough magical ability to break a supposedly unbreakable spell is cause for concern," Stefan said grimly, exchanging a look with his wife.

Mary Margaret hesitated, then asked, "Are you sure it was done with magic?"

"How else?" Leah demanded.

Mary Margaret blinked. "With a key?" she suggested, feeling it a bit ridiculous that she had to state the obvious so blatantly for them.

"Only Stefan and Charles had the keys," Primrose said, speaking up diffidently. She gave Mary Margaret a hesitant smile. "I cannot imagine that either of them would have done something like this."

"Perhaps someone stole the key?" Mary Margaret answered.

"Both keys are where we left them," Stefan answered curtly, giving Mary Margaret a glare.

"Perhaps someone stole the key and then put it back?" At Leah and Stefan's identical looks of disbelief, Mary Margaret sighed and added, "All I am saying is that there are other possibilities. If the Mother Superior told you that the spell could not be broken, then we should all believe her. What reason could she have to lie?"

"What reason indeed?" Leah muttered under her breath.

Mary Margaret chose not to answer the implied accusation. If Leah wanted to believe that the Mother Superior was engaged in some plot, it was unlikely that anyone would be able to change her mind, and Mary Margaret could only protest her innocence so much.

"I've sent people out into the woods," Leah continued, her voice cold and firm. "We will find Miss Lucas."

"She didn't kill Moe French," Mary Margaret answered.

"Then why did she run?" Midas asked skeptically, but with actual curiosity in his voice.

"Maybe because she was afraid she would not receive a fair trial?" Mary Margaret suggested sarcastically. She hesitated for a moment, then added in a quieter, more intimate tone, "I've been framed for murder before, and I know what it feels like to be innocent and yet have all the evidence stacked against you. I know the desperation – and the temptation to run."

Leah and Stefan shrugged off her comment without thought, and Primrose looked unsure, but both Charles and Midas gave her long looks, as though actually weighing the truth in her words.

"Is that why you helped her escape? Because of what Regina did to you?" a new voice asked in dark amusement.

Mary Margaret spun around and found herself staring at one of the last people she wanted to see. David had told her about what he had done, and it was lucky for him that she had been trapped in a different land at the time or she would have hunted him down herself.

"Albert," she said coolly.

"I prefer King George," he replied. He was standing in the main entrance to the station, one hand holding the door open. His stance was casual, at ease, as though he had no reason to be concerned about wandering into the sheriff's station. As though no one would possibly think to arrest him for what he had done.

"Why isn't he in jail?" Mary Margaret demanded in a low hiss, half to herself and half to the others gathered. "After what he did to Ruby…?"

"That was never proven," George said, waving his hand as though to idly dismiss framing the werewolf.

"Proven?" Mary Margaret countered in a raised voice, face flushing darkly. "David found a bloody axe and Ruby's cloak in your car."

"And the Blue Guard found the murder weapon with Ruby Lucas' fingerprints on it. And yet she was clearly framed and I wasn't? Are you so sure about that?"

"You admitted to killing Billy!" Mary Margaret seethed.

"Did I? To whom?" George asked, assuming an air of puzzlement. "Because I certainly don't remember that."

"To David. David and Ruby," Mary Margaret answered, taking a step forward and suddenly wishing that she had her bow and arrows with her. It was an angry thought, an ugly thought, and she had been raised better than this – but in that moment, she wanted nothing more than to badly hurt him.

"Ah… to your husband who has always hated me, and to a werewolf accused of murder," George said thoughtfully. "Two very reliable witnesses."

"David doesn't like you because you repeatedly tried to kill him! Your soldiers murdered his mother!" Mary Margaret answered, feeling a sense of bewilderment and panic as the situation began to slip away from her. "Besides, if you didn't kill Billy, why have you been hiding all this time?"

He smiled – a cold, almost malicious smile. "Maybe because I was innocent, and yet all the evidence was stacked against me. Maybe because I felt desperate. Maybe because the temptation to run was so strong." His eyes flicked past Mary Margaret to the others gathered behind her, and he added, "Maybe because I was afraid I would not receive a fair trial."

"No… that's not… you killed Billy… you burned the hat…" Mary Margaret stammered, shaking her head. She glanced behind her and saw Stefan giving George a thoughtful look, saw Primrose nod her head at his defense, as though what he said actually had value, had merit.

How dare he use her own words against her like this?

"And your pet wolf murdered someone," George replied, "and yet you seem perfectly content to let her escape. In fact, you helped her."

"What are you talking about?" Mary Margaret asked, confused. "I had nothing to do with it." Although, if given the opportunity, she might very well have helped Ruby escape this ridiculous accusation of murder. Better to break the law - whatever that might be - then to watch her friend pay the price for a crime she did not commit.

"Really? Because that's not what she said."

It took a moment for the meaning of that statement to sink in, and by the time Mary Margaret realized what he had said, Stefan and Leah had already hurried forward.

"You found her? The werewolf?" Stefan asked. "Where was she?"

"She was hiding in the woods," George replied, "and we had a brief… skirmish…" he gestured to a light bruise at the base of his throat and a thin cut at his hairline, "but I was able to get the upper hand." He glanced behind him, towards the street. "She is unconscious and securely confined in my car." He gave Mary Margaret an almost mocking smile, and added, "But relatively unharmed, so you needn't worry about that. And let me tell you, she had some very interesting things to say about you during our confrontation."

Stefan pushed past George and hurried outside, and Midas and Primrose followed him. Leah hesitated for only a moment, giving Mary Margaret a hard stare, before she turned to her two guards and said, "I'll be right back. In the meantime, do not let Snow leave."

And then she was gone, with George trailing behind her.

Mary Margaret turned towards Charles, numb with disbelief. "You can't… you don't think…"

Charles gave her an almost apologetic look, and said with obvious reluctance, "If Miss Lucas admits that you are the one who helped her escape, Snow…"

"I'm not!"

"Why would she lie?"

Mary Margaret didn't have an answer to that. There was no way Ruby would lie in order to incriminate her, but whatever she had said to George was clearly a lie.

"I'm your friend, Snow, and I don't want to believe that you would do something like this, but… well. I cannot ignore what is right in front of me." He shrugged. "I'm sorry," he said, but his eyes carried something different – quiet anger, and a sense of betrayal. "I truly am."

"I didn't…" Mary Margaret shook her head furiously and spun away from him. Stalking towards the door, she growled, "I'll prove it. I'll talk to Ruby, I'll show that this is wrong – a misunderstanding, or…"

But one of Leah's guards immediately blocked her path.

"I'm sorry, your Majesty," he said, "but I cannot allow you to leave."

"I'm just… all I want to do is see Ruby." Mary Margaret snapped, aggravated.

"Queen Leah said…"

"Leah doesn't have the authority to order anything!" Mary Margaret interrupted, her voice rising in fury and frustration. "I am going to see my friend."

The guard refused to move, but any fight that could have possibly resulted from the stand-off was prevented by the reappearance of Stefan and Midas. They came through the door with grim expressions, dragging an unconscious Ruby between them.

The memories flickered quickly through her mind, a jumble of words and emotions that came in no particular order and did nothing to stave off her panic.

Legend has it that when they kill you, the last thing you see is yourself dying in the reflection in their eyes.

Emma stumbled backwards, bare feet slipping on the ground. She grabbed at the nearest tree to keep herself standing upright, and felt the bark scrape painfully against her palm.

The ogre screamed. It was a strange sound – deep and echoing and yet somehow shrill like metal grating against metal. It swung out one arm, blindly slamming a huge fist into the trees around it and knocking several large branches to the ground. They landed with a heavy, reverberating thud, and dirt and dust flew into the air.

Emma choked, and turned to run.

No, leaving is unwise. The Enchanted Forest is not as you remember it. The ogres have returned.

The ground was uneven, and she lurched and staggered as the sound of her own blood pumping frantically echoed in her ears. Tree branches scratched at her, leaving thin trails of red on her skin. Something slapped her across the face – leaves? Twigs? – and she could smell the faintly metallic scent of blood. She lifted one hand to her face, fingers tracing the cut, but she didn't stop running.

The ground beneath her shook as the ogre gave chase.

Look, I know you're out of your element…

She burst into a clearing devoid of trees and shrubbery, and was nearly blinded by the bright sunlight that flooded down on her. The grass and dirt gave way to hot, sharp rocks, and she winced as she continued forward.

Then something hit her in the back.

She fell forward, rolling head-over-heels, and landed in an ungraceful sprawl on the ground. Tiny stones bit into the skin on her back, and the wind was knocked from her, leaving her helplessly gasping for breath.

A shadow fell over her as the ogre lumbered forward, mouth open, and gave another one of its strange screams.

And Emma had the sudden, very bizarre thought that if she was going to die right now, she really wished she'd been wearing more clothing.

Back away from my daughter!

Mary Margaret had saved her last time, but Mary Margaret wasn't here anymore.

The ogre reached down to seize her in its rough, calloused hands. She fought back, kicking with all her might and then rolling to her side and forcing herself to crawl on her hands and knees away from its searching fingers.

It swiped at her, and she fell flat onto her stomach, ducking beneath its grasp. The ogre bent over, lowering its face to mere inches above her. Her fingers brushed over small pebbles and dirt, and she seized a handful and flung herself onto her knees.

You have to shoot them in the eye.

Mary Margaret had saved her before, and Mary Margaret wasn't here now, but damn it she was not going to die this far away from her son!

She threw the handful of dirt as hard as she could directly into its closest eye.

It shrieked in pain and stumbled backwards, large, clumsy hands slapping at its eyes to clear out the debris.

Emma forced herself to her feet and looked around frantically for a weapon. She couldn't outrun the ogre, and she couldn't hide from it, and she sincerely doubted she could shoot anything into its eye. But she could defend herself – she had to.

Near the edge of the clearing she saw a jagged branch that had fallen to the ground, probably as a result of the ogre's run. She dashed over to it and snatched it up, then whirled around to face the enemy, holding the branch in front of her like a club.

The ogre brushed it out of her hand as though it was nothing more than a nuisance.

"Seriously?" she groaned.

It grabbed at her again, this time closing its fingers around her chest and pinning her arms to her side.

She struggled, trying to fight back, trying to push free, but it squeezed tightly and screamed in her face, and she felt as though it might actually shatter her ribs into pieces. She kicked wildly, swinging her feet off the ground in frantic movements, and vaguely remembered one of the self-defense lessons she had learned on the streets - fight back by any means, no matter what they are.

She leaned over and bit her teeth sharply into its rough skin.

It shrieked again, this time in surprise more than pain, and loosened its grip. She slithered free of its fingers and fell to her hands and knees on the ground.

Everything hurt.

But she was not going to abandon Henry, and she was not going to give up on the chance to be with Mary Margaret and David. She had a family in Storybrooke, and she was going to get home to them.

The white light exploded from her, expanding outwards. It was searing hot; not a comfortable warmth, but something more like fire, something that burnt everything it touched. She blinked as the brilliance of the light caused black dots to cloud her vision, and she heard a distant screaming, as though something was shouting at her from very far away.

She had no idea what had happened, but when her vision cleared and the ringing in her ears stopped, she found herself still on her hands and knees on the ground, with the ogre laying in front of her.

Its chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, and its eyes were blinking unseeingly at the sky above. It wasn't dead – just stunned.

Emma jumped to her feet, and ran.

And kept running.

By the time she felt as though she had put enough distance between herself and the ogre, she realized with a start of dismay that she hadn't been paying any attention to where she was going. The clearing had given way to more tangled woods and densely spaced trees, and everything in every direction looked exactly the same.

She was lost.

She stopped, and leaned against a tree, gasping for breath. Her lungs hurt, but she could breathe, and that was really all that mattered.

She sank to the ground, sitting with her knees folded against her chest and her back resting on the tree. She ran her hands quickly over her arms and legs and head, but nothing seemed to be broken or even fractured. She'd escaped an encounter with an ogre with little more than some bruises and scrapes.

"I used magic," she murmured, bringing both hands to rest over her heart. She could feel it beating frantically, and closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the scorching heat and the white light.

She'd used magic – again.

It had to be an emotional response. She hadn't willed it into being, hadn't tried to use it, hadn't even contemplated the possibility of its existence. She'd simply thought of her family, thought of Henry, and the magic had burst out of her as though it had a mind of her own.

She felt uneasy. How could this be a part of her?

Gold - Rumplestilskin - had written her name over and over in magic ink on a scroll of parchment... and didn't that statement just sound bizarre in her head? Why? Had he foreseen that she would be in that cell, had he known that she would be here, in this land? He seemed to be pulling all the strings in this, and her first instinct was that he was somehow responsible for the magic as well.

Because it couldn't be her. She couldn't be the one doing this, couldn't be actually using magic. It didn't make sense.

Was Gold using her? Why?

She opened her eyes and took another look around the forest. She had no idea where she was, or how she was going to find her way back to the lake, and from there to Snow White and Prince Charming's castle. She was lost and alone in an unfamiliar forest filled with ogres, and she was only half-dressed.

But at least she still had her red leather jacket.

And magic. She had magic.

She shook her head and a ran a hand through her tangled hair.

"This isn't possible," she said softly. "This isn't..." She shook her head again. Maybe Regina was behind this? The first she had felt that familiar burn of magic was when they had touched, when she had grabbed Regina's arm and the hat had suddenly sprung to life, opening a portal and dragging her to this unfamiliar place.

Could Regina have given her magic? Could magic be something that was given?

She let out a long breath. These were all questions that needed answers, but she couldn't answer them sitting half-naked and alone in the woods.

She climbed wearily to her feet and tilted her head up to look at the sky. She could only see thin slits of blue through the densely interwoven tree branches, but the glow of the sun was brighter to her left. Did that mean something?

"In the northern hemisphere, the sun rises and sets in the southern part of the sky," she murmured. She wasn't entirely sure how she knew that, but it was probably something she had picked up in an otherwise long-forgotten science class. School hadn't served her particularly well as a child or adolescent, but maybe it would help her now.

That's certainly true in your world, but how do you know it's true here? How do you know the sun even rises in the east and sets in the west?

The little voice in her head was talking again.

"Shut up," she said aloud.

She hadn't paid any attention to the path of the sun during the past several days, so it was entirely possible that it behaved completely differently than it did in her world. She probably wouldn't have noticed.

It didn't really matter, she supposed. The sun could do whatever it wanted. It wasn't like she was adept enough at wilderness survival skills to figure out directions based on the sun or any of the stars.

So what are you going to do? Sit down in the forest and wait for the next ogre to find you?

The voice was mocking her, but it had a point. She had already decided she couldn't sit around and wait to be rescued, so there was only one thing left to do. She had to start moving again.

"Just pick a direction, and walk," she said to herself.

And so she did.

She wasn't sure how long she had been walking – time had started to lose any sense of meaning. She could mark days by the rise and set of the sun, but she could not mark hours or minutes.

Still, she knew that she must have been walking for a while because her feet hurt and she was tired and the sun had started to set as she stumbled out of the forest and found herself standing on a wide dirt road. The forest came right to the edge of the path on either side, with clumps of grass migrating into the dirt itself, and the trees cast long shadows in the evening light.

"Well, that's… new," Emma remarked, squinting in either direction. She couldn't remember having passed a path like this before. Where did it lead, she wondered, and where had it started?

Behind her, the trail stretched out into the distance, following a straight and narrow path. In front of her, it curved around a bend and disappeared from view among the trees.

She walked forward, around the bend, and her breath caught in her throat.

In the far distance, snow-capped mountains loomed over everything, their peaks outlined against the darkening sky. The forest rose to meet the mountains, the trees thinning and finally dying out at the snow line. And in front of everything, at the end of the dirt path, stood a dilapidated castle.

But it was not the one she had seen previously, not the one her parents had called home.

It was tall, with thin sheets of dark metal or stone surrounding the main building, rising above and coming together in a steep point. There was a large courtyard in front, surrounded by a thick wall with heavy, wrought iron gates. It retained an imposing air, but all of it was cracked and crumbling, just like Snow White's castle.

"I recognize that," Emma whispered, awestruck. "I've seen that in Henry's book. That… that's Regina's castle."