Chapter Twenty-Eight: Of Love and Magic
She stood on the uneven, cracked stone of the courtyard, and looked back at the castle that rose behind her.
Regina's castle.
It still felt surreal, even though she'd been here long enough to finally accept that this fairytale land was real. And yet, even acknowledging that Henry had been right all along, she felt the stirrings of unease. Being in the castle had left her with doubts she hadn't had before – doubts and questions.
The world wasn't black and white. But somehow, it seemed even less black and white now than it had just a few days ago. There was still so much to this story… this history… that she didn't know.
She sighed, and turned resolutely towards the courtyard gate, watching as the first rays of morning sunlight crept over the black marble walls and cast shadows across the ground.
She'd found a bag at the back of Regina's closet, and, after cutting away the more gaudy and frivolous aspects of a few of Regina's outfits, she'd packed. Clothing, two knives, some flint, something that looked like a canteen and could hopefully be filled with water, and – after a moment of hesitation – the vial of black dust, the mirror shard, and the book of spells.
It wasn't much, but it would hopefully be enough.
She'd stopped by the castle kitchen as well. The room was enormous, and she'd already discovered that the pantries were stocked with food. She hadn't been especially hungry, but it had seemed like a bad idea to pass on food, given that she had no idea how long it would take her to get home. So she'd stuffed some bread and cheese into her bag. Her hand had hesitated over a bowl of apples, but then she'd snatched up two pears instead, deciding not to take the chance.
The realization had come to her the previous night while she was sitting on the balcony and staring sullenly out at the landscape. She was lost and alone, and she felt a nearly overwhelming amount of self-pity, and that wasn't going to magically change. She'd been relying on being the Savior, on being the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, on being imbued with magic. But the problem was, she didn't know how to be any of those things.
She knew how to be a bail bondsman. She knew how to find people who didn't want to be found, knew how to find people who were hiding. And while she'd only ever tracked people across state lines before, that didn't mean she couldn't track them across different worlds.
Henry was counting on her, and it was by relying on the skills she did have, relying on the person she did know how to be, that she was going to find her way home to him.
And then meant trusting her instincts, and yesterday, her instincts had pointed her towards water.
With that thought in mind, and with only a single bag slung over her shoulder, she left the Evil Queen's castle and stepped out into the forest beyond.
Tracking people through a city was not quite the same as trying to retrace her own footsteps through a forest, but Emma found that she'd actually left such an obvious trail of broken tree branches and trampled underbrush in her mad dash from the ogre that it wasn't challenging to find her way towards the ocean. It took her longer than she wanted, of course, and more than once she stopped and started doubting herself, but she pressed on anyway. And eventually the scent of pine gave way to the sharp smell of sea salt, and she couldn't help but smile.
Of course, she had no idea what she'd actually do when she got to the ocean. Probably try to find her way back to Lake Nostos if she could. Her instincts were telling her that the lake was better than the ocean, though she couldn't remember why. But there was something – some fleeting memory, tugging at her.
It was nearly sunset by the time she reached the ocean. She exhaled in relief as she passed through the last row of trees and stepped onto the sand. She was a bit further along the beach from where she had originally swum ashore, and to her left she could see the faint outline of the cove where Hook had hidden the Jolly Roger. It was outlined against the crimson sky, and she gazed at it for a long moment, thinking. The ship was long gone, as were Mary Margaret and the pirate, and she could only hope that they had arrived safely in Storybrooke. But the bean that had opened the portal for them once was also long gone, and the ocean did not offer the same hope now as it had then.
Lake Nostos, though…
Night was falling, but she wasn't tired. She might as well keep walking. The cove appeared a long ways off, but if she followed the edge of the ocean, she could probably reach it by morning.
Of course, from there, it was still a three day walk back to the lake.
Maybe she could make it half that if she didn't sleep.
"Regina? Truthfully… how much danger is Emma in?"
Regina turned at the question, dark eyes boring into David's open gaze. The intensity of her stare worried him for a reason he couldn't quite explain, and when she sighed and averted her gaze, something clenched painfully at his chest.
Regina walked over to the dishwasher and opened it. David stared at the neat rows of newly cleaned dishes. How strange it was that, in the middle of such a crisis, all the normal aspects of life had to carry on.
"Have you seen her eat?" Regina asked softly.
David frowned. It didn't really seem like an answer to his question, but before he could snap at Regina to stop talking in riddles, he came to an unsettling realization.
"No, I haven't." He paused, then added, "Is there even food in your castle?"
Regina lifted a plate from the dishwasher and placed it carefully in the appropriate cupboard. "Some. There were preservation spells in place to protect the entire castle, and the food would have been preserved as well. But I haven't seen Miss Swan find her way to the kitchens."
"We haven't been able to watch her every second," David replied. "We must have simply missed it. She has to be eating. Otherwise…" He trailed off and didn't finish the thought.
Regina paused and glanced at him, holding another plate in her hands. She opened her mouth, then frowned and closed it again. It took her a moment to finally reply, "Perhaps."
David swallowed, his throat dry. "What exactly are you saying?" he asked.
"You don't feel it at first," Regina answered, her words clipped. "The magic is so strong, so powerful. It gets under your skin, and dulls all your other senses. It overwhelms you."
"So you're saying that when people start using magic, they forget to eat?" David demanded skeptically. "That doesn't… if that was true, wouldn't all magic users just… die?"
Regina gave him a brittle smile. "People usually aren't alone when they start using magic. The world around them continues functioning, and so they go through the motions. They eat when meals are served and sleep when everyone else goes to bed. And eventually they get used to the magic, and instead of being overwhelming it becomes… normal. And so they start to feel everything else, all the feelings that had once... faded. And they once again eat because they are hungry and sleep because they are tired. That is the usual progression of learning magic." She paused for just a fraction of second. "But the world around Miss Swan is not functioning as normal."
"So she's forgetting to eat and to sleep?" David questioned. "But… she's barely using magic. How could it be… how could it do this to her?"
Regina turned back to emptying the dishwasher. "She probably is eating," she said. "She probably has found the kitchen and the food, and is eating some. As you said, she isn't using magic enough for it to completely consume her. But she's using it enough that everything else will fade. She'll forget to eat, forget to sleep."
"And then?"
Regina shrugged, her back still to him. "You'd be surprised how long someone can subsist on magic. But it changes a person."
David shook his head vehemently, refusing to believe Regina's warning. "Emma is… different. Her power, her magic – it's good. It comes from love."
Regina nodded. "Yes, dear," she said dryly, "I know. I've heard about your and Miss Blanchard's true love many times."
"So how could Emma's magic be dangerous?" David protested. How could anything based in love be so terrible?
Regina turned to look at him then, and studied his face for a long moment as though weighing her possible answers.
David continued, "How could it be bad? You saw her in the mirror. She was clearly only using it because she was trying to find a way home, a way back to us, to her family. Everything she is doing is driven by love. Not hate, not desire for power or revenge. Love. Don't you see that?"
Regina sighed. "I am not arguing that point." Her tone was almost reluctant, almost begrudging, as she conceded, "Miss Swan is desperate to return to Storybrooke, to you and Miss Blanchard. More than that, she is desperate to return to Henry, and preferably before my mother gets to him. She has magic in her – the embodiment of your love. And everything she is doing now, she is doing because of the love she feels."
"And how is that a bad thing?"
There was a sudden knock at the door, interrupting the conversation, and Regina's gaze slid past David. A brief, momentary fear flickered in her eyes, but then she said in a tone of forced calm, "It must be Granny. She is the only one, besides Miss Lucas and Miss Blanchard, who could get past the barrier."
David nodded, though Regina's assurances did not stop him from worrying. He followed her to the door, ready for a fight, and was relieved to see that she had been correct.
But Granny looked upset and harried. She pushed past Regina into the house, her movements agitated. Spinning around to the face them both, she said without preamble, "A mob has trapped Leah and Stefan inside town hall, surrounding the place with fire, and one of their followers just tried to break into the sheriff's station to retaliate against Mary Margaret."
"What?" David demanded, immediately incensed. "How dare they?"
"The dwarves and Charles' men stopped them," Granny reassured David quickly, though her words did little to dampen the fury he felt.
"If Leah's followers think that Miss Blanchard is responsible for this latest," Regina said tiredly, closing the door and blocking out the cold night air, "it is not surprising they would go after her in such a manner." She gave Granny a scrutinizing look. "Fire, you said? The mob trapped Leah in the town hall with fire?"
"Yes, and Stefan, too. Why? Does that mean something to you?" Granny asked, surprised.
Regina pursed her lips, considering the question. David watched her, watched the array of emotions that passed through her eyes. When she answered, her words were carefully measured.
"Leah is quite afraid of fire."
"Why?" Granny asked.
At the same time, David questioned sharply, "How do you know that?"
Regina answered both questions with a single world. "Maleficent."
"This is the second time fire has been used against her," Granny said pointedly. She looked between David and Regina. "Is that a coincidence?"
Regina frowned, thinking, then said, "I don't believe her fear of fire is particularly well known. It is a substantial weakness – she can barely think straight around any sort of flame. That is not the kind of thing she would want people to know, not the kind of gossip she would want to spread. Her enemies would undoubtedly take advantage of it."
"And you didn't tell anyone?" David asked. Regina shot him an annoyed glare, and he said quickly, defensively, "I meant before. Back in our land." If Maleficent had told her of whatever she had done to instill this terror in Leah, would Regina have really kept it a secret? Or would she have used it?
Regina gave him an icy smile. "Knowledge is power, and what good would it have done me to pass along that bit of power to anyone else? Particularly when I knew just how desperate Leah and Stefan were – just how much they might be willing to do - to make sure no one ever found out that secret…"
David shook his head in disgust at the implication in her words.
Regina just laughed. "Yes, dear. Because I'm sure you've never done anything underhanded ever." To Granny, she said thoughtfully, "However, I would imagine that the confrontation between Leah and Maleficent would be in Henry's book. It was a very significant event in both their lives."
"And your mother has the book," Granny said flatly.
Regina nodded.
"We have to get Mary Margaret and Ruby out of there," David said tersely. "Now. They aren't safe."
"We can't get them out," Regina replied flatly. "Not with magic. I can't break the spell on the cells, David."
"Then we'll find another way," David snapped back, starting to pace. "I'm not leaving Mary Margaret in jail. I'm not… I'm not going to stand around and do nothing while Stefan and Leah send people to kill her!"
"Oh, I doubt Stefan or Leah actually sent them," Regina countered. "I'm sure that whoever it was, they were acting of their own accord."
David glared at her. Did she actually think the distinction mattered? Mary Margaret had been attacked because of what was happening with Stefan and Leah, and she was only in such danger because they had locked her away. And, anyway, the reasoning behind the action was irrelevant. Mary Margaret had done nothing wrong, and for her to be falsely accused, imprisoned, and then attacked…
He closed his eyes for a moment, and listened to the heavy thudding of blood pounding in his ears.
Mary Margaret did not deserve this.
"What other way?" Granny interjected. "How are we going to get past the spell if Regina's magic isn't strong enough to break it?"
David looked at her, and noticed for the first time the worry etched firmly into the lines on her face. And that worry, he realized abruptly, was not just for Mary Margaret. He let out a breath, and felt the guilt curl in his stomach.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I… Ruby. Is she alright? Was she hurt? I didn't even think…"
"She's fine," Granny said with a tight smile, "but I don't like leaving her in danger. She's been in there far too long."
David was stopped from replying by the sound of a door on the second floor slamming shut, and Regina whirled around to face the stairs with a look of alarm on her features. All her fears echoed in her voice as she breathed, "Henry."
"How much do you think he heard?" David asked uneasily. He might not fully agree with Regina's determination to keep her son in the dark, but he at least understood why she was so worried. If Henry already blamed himself for Cora's presence in the town, how much more would it hurt him to know the details of just what she was doing?
Regina was already halfway up the stairs as she turned to meet David's gaze. "Too much," she answered flatly.
Far too much.
Henry was sitting on his bed when Regina knocked on his door and slipped into his room. He looked up at her, his expression blank.
"Henry…" Regina hesitated, not really sure what to say. She closed the door softly behind her, stalling as she tried to think up the right words for the situation.
Henry continued to stare at her with an unemotional gaze.
She let out a breath and decided, in a rare moment of complete openness, to confront the matter head-on. "Henry, what my mother is doing is not your fault."
Henry nodded automatically, though she knew he didn't believe her words. In a hoarse voice, he said, "Are Mary Margaret and Ruby… is something bad going to happen to them?"
Regina didn't have an answer to that. "I don't know," she admitted. She wanted to lie, wanted to tell him that everything would be alright. But they both knew that she could not make that promise, and any lie she gave would only make the situation worse.
So she settled for the one partially-comforting truth she could give.
"But we're going to try to protect them," she pledged. "David and Granny and I. We are going to do everything we can to keep them safe."
"Can't you get them out?" Henry asked. When Regina started to explain about the magical barrier, he hurried on, "I know you can't with magic. But can't you… can't you find the key to the cell? Can't you just… just take it?"
Regina shook her head regretfully. The idea had occurred to her more than once, but some subtle inquiries and tests had convinced her it would not be that simple. "I don't know where the key or keys are," she explained, "and when I tried summoning them, it didn't work. They are no doubt protected by magic as well."
Henry chewed his lip, disappointed.
"We're going to protect them, Henry," Regina said, repeating herself. "I'm going to do everything I can to keep them safe."
Henry twisted the comforter on his bed through his fingers and didn't meet her gaze. "What if it isn't enough? What if you can't? What if… what if Good isn't strong enough? What if your mother wins?"
Regina didn't have an answer for that, either.
"Mom?"
"Yes, dear?"
"What if Emma never comes back?"
The question didn't bother Regina the way she thought it would. Only a few days ago, Henry's inquiry would have left her feeling bitterly jealous that he'd given his love away to someone else. Only a few weeks ago, it would have left her furious at Emma, and only a few months ago, it would have left her plotting a way to get rid of the blonde.
But something had changed, and Regina stared into Henry's suddenly tear-filled eyes, not quite able to figure out what.
Aloud, she said, "We will get Miss Swan back."
"You don't know that. You can't promise that." Henry got up suddenly and walked over to the window. He didn't look at her, and his words were thick with guilt. "Storybrooke is falling apart, isn't it? It's going to be destroyed. She's going to destroy it."
"We're going to fight her," Regina promised.
In a quiet voice, Henry said, "I don't want you to have to fight her."
Regina closed her eyes, her son's fears and her own concerns filling her. She couldn't fight Cora. Ruby had asked the question once, but Regina had never answered it. She hadn't allowed herself to even dwell on it, and no one else had ever asked, so it had slipped to the back of her mind – ignored if not completely forgotten.
And now the question was back, haunting her.
If the only way to stop Cora was to kill her, would Regina be able to do it?
"I don't want her to hurt you," Henry added.
And suddenly Henry's previous question echoed in her mind: What if Good isn't strong enough?
Regina opened her eyes and stared at her son. He was looking at her with an open, honest expression – and she realized what had changed.
Henry had started thinking of her as being on the side of Good.
Even if he also wanted her to commit theft.
She knew she could still screw it all up. Emma, David, Mary Margaret – they would get unlimited chances. They were heroes, and in Henry's eyes they would always be heroes. She was darker, grayer. She had to keep proving that she was better than she had been, that she had changed, that she was no longer the Evil Queen.
And yet…
At some point, Henry had gone from wanting to believe in her to actually believing in her.
And she desperately wanted to prove him right.
"I can't promise that I will be able to save the town," Regina said. "I want to tell you that everything will be alright – we'll stop my mother and save everyone. But we both know you're smarter than that, Henry. All I can promise is that I am going to try my hardest to protect Storybrooke." She crossed the room and crouched in front of her son, grasping both of his arms. "But I will get Emma back, Henry. I promise you – one way or another, I will bring her back."
When Regina returned downstairs, Granny had left. David was sitting at the kitchen table, looking sullen and morose. She couldn't really blame him for that; Mary Margaret was in danger, Emma was in danger, and David couldn't help either of them.
He looked up as she entered the kitchen. "How is Henry?" he asked.
"Upset," Regina answered honestly. Her lips curled into a sardonic smile. "I'm surprised you didn't storm into his room in the middle of our conversation, though. Or do you suddenly trust me to make good decisions regarding my son?"
David gave her a level look, then answered simply, "I figured I could talk to him before he went to bed."
Regina refrained from rolling her eyes with great difficulty. "Well, at least you are honest about your continued distrust of me," she remarked somewhat sarcastically. But his words did not bother her. James' open distrust had always far easier to take than Snow's continual cycles of naïve hope and bitter disappointment.
And everything had been easier to bear than Henry's guarded suspicion.
She took a seat opposite him. "About Miss Swan…"
"Yes?"
"You asked me earlier why love won't protect her from the corruptive influences of her magic." Regina drummed her fingers on the table, meeting David's expectant gaze and struggling to come up with a way of explaining this to him. Every disastrous decision she had ever made had had some element of love in it. And everything she had done, everything she had become, had started with Daniel.
"Yes?" David prompted.
Regina sighed. "True love is the most powerful magic of all," she said, echoing the words Daniel had told her, the words she had told the young Snow White. "The magic that true love creates is… It is good, it is strong, it is… vibrant. Passionate. Practically alive. But magic is still magic, and strong magic has a way of working itself into a person and never letting go."
"So you are saying…?"
"All her intentions might be good, and pure, and noble… But if the magic Miss Swan is using is based in love – love strong enough to break a curse created by the Dark One – how easy do you think it will be for her to put it aside once she is done?"
Belle tucked a few strands of dark hair behind one ear and hurried across the street towards the library. She barely paid attention to where she was going, too caught up in her other thoughts. Leroy had just informed her of the almost-attack on Mary Margaret and Ruby the night before, and though the guard around the sheriff's station had tripled, she was still worried. And she'd seen the mob surrounding town hall with their pitchforks – why was it always pitchforks? – and their now burnt out torches, and she knew that was doing little to improve the situation.
The town was a mess.
She walked directly into another person, the books she was carrying tumbling out of her arms and scattering on the sidewalk.
"Oh… oh, sorry!" Belle exclaimed, blushing brightly and taking a step back. "I'm sorry, I wasn't…"
"Don't worry about it," the woman said. She studied Belle for a moment, then asked, "It's Belle, right?"
"Oh… yes. Um… Katherine?"
Katherine nodded and knelt down to retrieve Belle's fallen books. Belle quickly scrambled to help.
"Oh, Pride and Prejudice," Katherine said, glancing at one of the books. "I love that book. I must have read it a thousand times when we were cursed." She gave Belle a quick grin and added, "And not just because we were cursed to never notice the passage of time."
Belle was a bit surprised by how easily Katherine could talk about the curse. Most people in the town seemed to want to either avoid the topic all together or use it as a way to discuss how much they hated and mistrusted Regina.
Katherine's quip had been… oddly refreshing, actually.
"You should visit the library, then," Belle said, taking the rest of the books from Katherine and climbing back to her feet. "We have all of Jane Austen, and several other authors from that genre. It's a surprisingly well-stocked library, given that it was closed for all of the curse."
"I will keep that in mind," Katherine said, standing as well. "Though lately it doesn't seem like there is much time for reading."
Belle frowned. "You mean with everything happening in the town?" Katherine nodded, and Belle exhaled slowly. "I just don't understand how people can be so blind," she said, shaking her head. "Don't they see how much this is hurting everyone?"
"People only see what they want to see," Katherine replied simply.
"Isn't that the truth?" a new voice mused.
Belle turned, and her breath caught in her throat as the older woman stepped out of the shadows of the nearby building and into the early morning light.
"Cora."
"Hello, my dear," Cora said. "So lovely to see you again." Her eyes flicked down to Belle's throat. "And still wearing the necklace, I see."
"Katherine… Katherine, stay away from her," Belle hissed, dropping her books all over again and frantically grabbing at the blonde, pulling her backwards. Katherine gave Belle a bewildered stare, though the name Cora did at least seem to mean something to her. There was some apprehension in her gaze.
But not the same fear that Belle felt. Not the same panic.
"What is so special about the necklace?" Katherine asked as she stepped away from Cora.
"It protects dear Belle from any direct harm," Cora replied smoothly. "Though I do think I might be able to poison you. The necklace repels a physical attack, but I doubt it would be able to save you from that."
She said it casually, almost as though it didn't really matter, as though she wasn't currently discussing how to kill Belle.
"It also wouldn't be able to protect you from a mental attack," Cora added. "I could break your mind, and the necklace would do nothing."
"Why would you want to hurt her?" Katherine demanded furiously and with far more bravery than Belle felt. "What has Belle ever done to you?"
"Oh, nothing," Cora replied, glancing idly at Katherine. "But then, this was never about her." Her gaze switched back to Belle and she took a few quick steps forward, until she was standing directly in front of the younger woman. "But don't worry; I won't hurt you," she said softly, a promise. "No poison, no destroying your mind. None of that. A deal is a deal, after all."
And before Belle could reply, Cora turned and plunged her hand directly into Katherine's chest.
Belle's scream of horror echoed in the street as Cora ripped out Katherine's heart and crushed it to dust. Katherine crumpled, wide-eyed and lifeless, her body sprawling out at odd angles, her blonde hair splayed on the cold cement.
And then Cora was gone in a puff of purple smoke.
"How can you just stand there and… and do nothing?" Belle seethed, tears burning in her eyes as she fought to regain control of her rapidly fraying emotions.
Rumple gave her an impassive look from his spot behind the counter of his pawn shop.
She wanted to slap him.
"Katherine's dead," Belle continued, striding forward angrily. "Cora killed her. Ripped her heart out and crushed it into nothing in front of me." She placed her palms flat on the glass case and leaned forward, wishing her presence could intimidate Rumple. Why couldn't she make him understand? "People are trying to hurt Mary Margaret, and Leah and Stefan, and Cora is responsible for that. And she's responsible for my father's death. How can you not care?"
"I do care," Rumple replied. "Belle – I do care." He reached out for her, but she drew back at the last moment, and his fingers were left grasping at air.
"Not enough," she snapped. "If you cared, you would do something. You would fight her."
"I am trying to protect you," Rumple shot back, frustration seeping into his words. "Why can't you understand that?"
Belle shook her head. "Don't. Don't lie."
"That wasn't a lie."
Belle turned away from him and wiped angrily at her eyes, flinging away the tears. Why was she still crying over him? Hadn't he already proven that he wasn't going to change? How could it possibly come as a surprise to her that he was this selfish?
"Cora isn't the one causing me pain," she said viciously. "I've heard what Regina has said, what Mary Margaret and David have said. I know the kind of person Cora is, and I don't expect anything else from her." She looked at him then. "It's you. You are the one hurting me."
"Belle, please… don't say that," Rumple said, his tone soft, quiet. He was begging now, and yet the desperation in his words only made Belle angrier. "Don't… please. There is so much here you don't understand. My history with Cora, with Hook… it's complicated."
"Complicated?" Belle bit off the word. "People are dying, Rumple, and you could stop it. That isn't complicated at all." Rumple didn't answer, and she sighed. Changing tactics, she demanded, "What did they do to you? Cora and Hook? Why do you hate them so much?" She paused, then added, "Why are you afraid of them?"
"I am not afraid of that pirate," Rumple practically snarled, slamming one hand down on the glass counter between them. Belle flinched at the violent anger of the movement, but Rumple seemed not to notice. He was staring past her, through her, his thoughts far away.
"Aren't you?" Belle challenged. "You certainly hate him…"
"Hate him?" Rumple interrupted her. His lips twisted into a snarl and the far away look in his eyes deepened. His expression was filled with anger and loathing as he remembered the past. "He took Milah. We lost her. My son lost his mother because of Hook."
"I – oh. I'm sorry," Belle murmured, softening just the tiniest bit.
Rumple blinked, and then shook his head as though returning to the present. He looked at Belle and said in a calmer tone, "I'm almost done with the potion. I am close, Belle. I am so close. Soon I will be able to cross the town line. Soon I will be able to find my son. And I won't let Cora stop me."
"What about the rest of us?" Belle demanded. "What about all the people Cora will hurt?"
"She won't hurt you."
Belle pressed her lips into a thin line and gazed for a long moment at the man she loved. Then she said accusingly, "Don't use me as an excuse."
"Belle…"
"If you don't want to fight Cora, I can't make you," Belle said. She shook her head slowly and backed further away from Rumple, back towards the door to the shop. "But that decision is on you. You are doing this because it is easy, not because it is right. You are doing this because you're still too much of a coward to face up to the person you could be. So don't use me as an excuse."
"Belle, please…"
With her hand on the doorknob, Belle gave Rumple one last searching look. "Is this the kind of person your son wanted you to be? When you tell him that you let an entire world of people suffer in his name, do you think he will thank you for that?"
She left, ignoring him when he tried to call her back.
Emma sat perched at the top of the cove and stared out at the ocean as it glittered in the mid-morning light. The stones beneath her with slippery, and she ran her fingers over the still damp moss that clung to the cracks and crevices. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she and Mary Margaret had followed Hook down the treacherous incline to the makeshift dock below.
She closed her eyes for a moment, soaking in the warmth of the sun. The night had been cold, though she'd hardly noticed it. The chill had bit at her skin, but she'd been numb, or maybe just immune. But either way, the sun's warmth still offered a welcome change.
She opened her eyes and pulled open her bag. Light glinted off the shard of mirror, and she started to reach for it.
Then she stopped, and lowered her hand.
She didn't want it. She shouldn't have brought it, shouldn't have brought anything that had magic. She didn't like the way it made her feel – or maybe she liked it a little too much.
But she hadn't been able to set it aside.
She pressed her hand flat against the rocks and blinked once, twice. She forced her gaze away and inhaled slowly, tasting salt in the air.
It was probably time to eat something, she thought idly. She hadn't eaten since leaving Regina's castle, and although she didn't feel hungry, she knew she needed to conserve her energy.
And yet when she looked at the bag, all she could see was the mirror, and underneath it, the book.
Slowly, tentatively, she lifted the book out of the bag and opened it. The pages crinkled underneath her fingers, the parchment rough and dry. She stared hard at the strange symbols written in squid ink, at the words that made no sense. She stared until her eyes began to water and the lines seemed to blend together.
She blinked and looked away.
She needed to get rid of the book. She needed to get rid of the mirror and the strange black dust. She couldn't hold onto it, couldn't allow it to tempt her like this.
But, an insidious voice whispered in her mind, what if you need it to get back to Henry?
"I don't," she said aloud. "I'll find another way. A way that doesn't involve magic. That was the whole point of doing this, of leaving Regina's castle. I'm a bail bondsman, not a magical Savior."
But Cora needed magic to get to Storybrooke. Mary Margaret and Hook needed magic. You can't open a portal without it. You need it. You need it to get to Henry.
Leaving the book lying open in her lap, she reached inside her bag and pulled out a pear. She bit into it, vaguely aware that anything in Regina's kitchen should have gone bad a long time ago, and the fact that the pear was not rotten probably had something to do with magic. But what other choice did she have but to eat it?
"Hopefully there's no sleeping curse on this one," she muttered wryly, remembering the bowl of apples. "And hey… at least it's not chimera."
She'd eaten food from the kitchen a few times over the past days, and it hadn't killed her yet, or turned her into a frog or anything. That was probably a good sign.
A droplet of pear juice dripped down the side of the fruit and landed on the book, blurring the ink. She brushed it away without thinking, smearing the ink and feeling a spark of something race from the tips of her fingers up her arm and into her chest.
She drew her hand back quickly, startled, and nearly dropped both the book and the pear.
She gritted her teeth. "I need to put the book away," she said firmly.
But don't you remember what it felt like last time? When you felt strong? Don't you want that again?
"No," she practically growled. "No. I won't – I can't. It's too… too…"
She couldn't think of the right words.
She closed her eyes again and drew a deep breath. Then she set the pear down on the stones next to her and stared out at the ocean once more. Magic could give her strength, give her power. Magic could give her an answer. Magic could get her back to Henry.
Magic might be the only way to get her back to Henry.
Was she fooling herself, thinking she could do this simply by relying on her skills as a bail bondsman?
But why did she feel this dread coiling in the pit of her stomach?
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flicker of something, of color or movement, and turned to look.
Her gaze fell on the mirror.
It didn't particularly surprise Cora when Rumple walked into her house, his eyes narrowed dangerously. She'd been half-expecting it since the death of – oh, what was her name? Katie or Katelyn or Katherine or something? She was fairly certain he'd known all along where she was hiding in the town, and so finding her would not have been any particular challenge for him.
She looked up and met his chilly gaze.
"You broke the deal," Rumple said softly.
She smiled. "No, I didn't," she countered easily, rising to her feet. "I have in no way interfered in your plans, nor have I included your darling Belle in mine."
"You killed Katherine Nolan in front of her!" Rumple retorted, leaning his weight on his cane as he stared at her. She could see the fury seething beneath the surface, ready to spill through the cracks in his otherwise calm façade.
She'd known Belle meant quite a lot to him, of course. That had been obvious from the moment she'd seen the necklace and felt the powerful magic bubbling in the gaudy pendant. But there was something in his expression now that gave her pause – something that made her think her heart would start aching, if only it was still in her chest.
She ruthlessly shoved away the thought. It was good, really, that he felt so much for Belle. The depth of his emotion might surprise her, Cora reflected, but all it really did was make her work that much easier.
Love was weakness.
"Katherine," she said aloud, mulling over the word. "Was that her name?"
"You can't possibly claim that…"
"My plans are to cause as much mayhem in this town as possible," Cora interrupted. "The death of a royal, particularly the cherished only child of a well-loved king, will do that. The fact that Belle happened to be present was a bonus for me, but it certainly wasn't part of my plan."
"You could have left and… and gone after Katherine when she wasn't there!"
Cora laughed outright at that. "Do you really believe your darling Belle only grieves the loss of life when she is around to witness the death? If your concern is that this upset her – well, don't you think she would have been upset either way?"
"You should have left her out of it. You were supposed to stay away from her."
"I did leave her out of it. She was irrelevant. It was not part of my plan that she be there at that precise moment. As for staying away from her - well, I didn't touch her, did I? I caused her no harm. As far as I am concerned, that is staying away from her. It's not like the deal included ant specific distance."
"That is merely semantics, dearie."
"Yes, Rumple – and isn't that all deals really are? Semantics?"
Rumple didn't answer.
Cora frowned. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen him silenced. He'd haunted her memories for years now, and though she'd often imagined just what she would finally do to him for her revenge… never in her wildest dreams had he appeared so… weak.
"You promised me love once," Cora murmured. "But when you promised it, it came with darkness and isolation. Even your love, even something that those fools who call themselves heroes think is good and pure – even that, inside of you, is full of darkness. Do you really think you can change?"
"You did," Rumple snapped.
"Hmm… did I?" Cora shrugged. "Perhaps. And whose fault is that?" She waited for a moment, but Rumple said nothing, and so she pressed on, "You will never be the person Belle wants you to be. You are the Dark One. All you are, all you can ever be, is dark."
"We'll see," Rumple answered, both a promise and a threat.
"Yes, we shall," she replied, taking a step forward and lifting her hand so that her fingers touched lightly against his cheek. "But don't you see it, Rumple? Being the Dark One made you strong, made you ruthless. And now this… this love you think you have for that librarian… it is taking away everything you are, turning you back into the spinner you once were." She dropped her arm to her side and whispered the last words. "It is making you weak."
She watched in silence as he left, still leaning on his cane. The door slammed shut behind him, the noise reverberating through the quiet house, and Cora sighed.
Even without her heart, being around him hurt. It wasn't the sharp pain she remembered from before – that nearly heart-breaking sensation that had ripped through her right before she had taken out her own heart, right when she had realized the decision she was going to make. Giving up on him – on love – had not been easy.
But that pain was just a memory, and what she felt now was just an echo.
And, she supposed, one more reminder of all the damage love could do.
With that thought in mind, she walked over to the table and sat down. A hand-held mirror lay before her, resting innocently on the table. She stared at it for a long moment, then reached out and rested a finger on the smooth surface. The reflection rippled and distorted, then morphed into a picture of Emma Swan.
The blonde was staring off into the distant, gazing intently at something, or perhaps just lost in her own thoughts.
Cora pursed her lips. "You should have avoided mirrors, Miss Swan," she said quietly, "and you should have avoided magic. A little bit of knowledge is a very dangerous thing."
Henry was screaming.
Emma's hand hit the half-eaten pear as she lunged for the mirror, and she barely noticed as the piece of fruit went tumbling over the side of the rocky outcrop and plummeted into the waves churning in the cove below. Her fingers curled around the mirror, panic bursting in her chest, as the image of Henry crying out for help seemed to grow.
She couldn't hear his words, but she could see the tears falling down his cheeks, could tell that he was begging for help. He was struggling against something – magic? – reaching out in a desperate bid to break free.
"Henry. No, no…" Emma cried hoarsely, holding the mirror so tightly the rough edges bit into her skin, drawing blood.
The scene drew back so that Emma could see more of it. Regina lay collapsed on the floor, evidently having tried to reach Henry, to protect him. David was on his hands and knees, reaching out for a gun that lay just beyond his fingertips. Mary Margaret knelt at his side, but she looked upwards, past him.
Towards Cora.
Cora was smiling.
And Henry was still screaming.
Emma dropped the mirror. It shattered into even smaller pieces, and yet Henry's tear-streaked, screaming face was reflected in every one.
"No," she snarled, rage filling her as the image etched itself into her mind. "No! I will not let you take my son!"
Without thinking, she reached for the book of spells.