Chapter Thirty-Two: Everything Changes

"You alright, sister?"

Belle dragged her attention away from her inner turmoil and offered a weak smile as Leroy slid into the seat opposite her. There were many answers she could give to that question, but none that she thought Leroy would really understand. His opinion of Rumplestilskin was hardly a secret.

Then again, if her initial encounter with him back in their own land was any indication, he did at least know what a broken heart felt like.

She wrapped her hands around a glass of iced tea and lowered her gaze to stare at the drops of condensation forming around her fingers.

"No."

"What happened?"

Belle sighed, and tapped her fingers idly against the glass. Again, she hesitated, unwilling to explain. Instead, she slanted a quick look around the diner and commented, "I wish Ruby were here."

"She will be," Leroy answered immediately, reassuringly. "We're going to get her out."

"Are we?" Belle asked skeptically, a hint of bitter cynicism creeping into her voice. "We were supposed to get justice for my father, too, but everyone seems to have forgotten about that. It's like his death doesn't mean anything anymore. Like it doesn't matter."

Leroy opened his mouth to say something, but floundered and lapsed into a momentary silence.

Belle rubbed at her eyes with one hand, and blinked back tears. Ruby might not have liked Belle's father, and their friendship might have been strained by Belle's initial assumption that Ruby had been guilty of the murder, but the werewolf would at least be sympathetic to the fact that Belle wanted her father's killer brought to justice.

And while Ruby certainly didn't understand Belle's love for Rumplestilskin, she had acknowledged that it was real, and she had been the least judging of the relationship. And no matter how well meaning Leroy was, she didn't want to hear that she deserved better than Rumple, didn't want to hear that she was better off now.

Maybe she was better off.

She still didn't want to hear it.

And everything still hurt.

"David is working on it," Leroy said finally. "He'll get justice."

Belle nodded silently, and didn't argue the point. But she wasn't sure she believed it. David might be trying to figure out how to get Mary Margaret out of jail, and Ruby, too, but his concern was for his family first and the town second and maybe – maybe – her father third. She wasn't sure he even remembered about her father's death.

She took a sip of her iced tea.

"Besides, we know who killed your father," Leroy continued gruffly, "and we're all fighting against the Evil Queen's mother."

Belle exhaled slowly. "Not all of us," she murmured.

Leroy gave her an unusually piercing look, and leaned forward with a scowl. "What did he do now?"

"Nothing," Belle answered quickly, too quickly.

Leroy glowered, muttering threateningly under his breath. But Belle knew it was all bravado. The dwarf was brave but hardly foolish, and he definitely wouldn't antagonize Rumple.

She leaned back, averting her gaze as the painful memories came rushing back. Hook's words and Rumple's implicit and explicit admissions of guilt…

"I wish I didn't know," she said softly. "I wish I could just pretend that none of this had happened, that the pirate hadn't told me anything, that I hadn't asked Rumple about it." She smiled again, bitter. "I always knew what he was, though. I just thought there was enough good in him to get past that."

Despite everything – the anger, the sense of betrayal, the grief at what she had lost – she still loved him. But she couldn't ignore what he had done. Killing Milah, creating the curse, manipulating Regina… and whatever he had done to Cora… She knew there was a man underneath the mask of the monster, but lately it had just been so difficult to find him.

She reached up and touched the hollow of her throat where her necklace had been. The pendant was gone now, taking away what protection it had offered and giving her back her freedom. But Rumple hadn't acknowledged that it had been wrong of him to give it to her in the first place, and she wasn't sure that he even understood why she was so upset about it.

And yet she loved him, and she still couldn't let go, and it was tearing her apart.

She licked her dry lips. "I wish I could just forget it all."

Emma didn't remember much of anything about the family that had adopted her. She'd been three at the time, and it hadn't lasted long enough for her to have any truly happy memories to carry with her through the rest of her life. She had only a few vague impressions of brown hair and brown eyes and a warm smile that had made her feel safe.

But she quite vividly remembered the confusion and disenchantment when it had so abruptly fallen apart, when they'd given her back.

She touched the water of Lake Nostos with one hand.

Adoption shouldn't be something so easily undone, she thought bitterly. Foster children grew to expect the perpetual disappointment of being shunted off to another home, another family, another life. But adoption was supposed to mean something more permanent, something foster children were supposed to be able to hope for. At eleven, she'd watched other blonde-haired bright-eyed children get adopted out of the group home in Boston, and it had always seemed like they were going off to something better.

Maybe they were. Maybe they never got sent back.

Maybe it was just her.

After all, however strained their relationship, Regina had not given Henry back. Regina had apparently never even considered it, and had been willing to fight dirty to keep Henry with her.

The apple turnover had been proof of that.

She sighed. What did it say about her that even the Evil Queen had been better to her adopted son than Emma's briefly adopted parents had been to her?

She stood up and rubbed her hands on the fabric of the dress she was wearing, the one she had taken from Regina's castle.

She had to get home.

But home was a strange concept. Being bounced between foster homes and group homes had made her think that maybe this idea of home was an overrated notion – or worse, something that didn't really exist. But then Neal had said…

"No," she said aloud, savagely biting off the word. "I am not thinking about him."

She forcefully shoved away all thoughts of the man she had loved, the man who had betrayed her, sending her to prison.

Still, his words echoed in his head.

When you leave it, there's that feeling that you can't shake. You just miss it.

She didn't have a home. She'd never had a home. But she had Henry now, and she missed him.

She walked over to her bag and pulled the mirror shard out of it. She had been able to use it as a window into the lives of the people she cared about – and that strange Technicolor world that had shown up of its own accord – but it didn't seem to offer her much more than that. Yet it must have some inherent magic properties or else why would it have shown her a world she clearly hadn't been thinking of?

Come to think of it, why had it kept showing her that world initially?

She shook her head. She had seen Henry screaming, and Regina unconscious on the floor, and Mary Margaret and David fruitlessly fighting back, and Cora… Cora laughing. That image had stayed seared in her mind long after it had faded from the mirror shard. It haunted her every time she closed her eyes, and it had been the thing that had driven her to pick up the book of spells and absorb all that magic in the first place.

But when she'd seen Henry afterwards, he had seemed fine. Well, not fine. He had seemed weary and disheartened, and the fatigue had been evident in his eyes. But he'd been alive and not in Cora's clutches… and that just didn't make sense. Cora would not have then simply let them go. The two images were contradictory.

Which meant one was probably fake, and she could easily guess which it was.

If Cora was behind it – and really, who else could it be? – why had she sent the image to Emma? To torment her? That seemed like the obvious reason, of course. After all, what worse hell could she put Emma through then to make her think that Henry was suffering and in pain while Emma was trapped in another world and completely unable to help him?

But.

Cora had killed Lancelot and impersonated him, had stolen Aurora's heart and used it to control her, and had double-crossed Hook… though, admittedly, the pirate had betrayed her first. All of those actions had been utilitarian, had gotten her one step closer to her goal of getting to Storybrooke. Despite everything Cora had done here, and everything Mary Margaret had said that Cora had done before, Emma was having a hard time believing that Cora would taunt Emma this way just for fun. There had to be something more, some way that this helped her with her ultimate goal… whatever that was.

She chewed her lip.

Cora was playing her. Cora was playing all of them. But why? What did she gain from this?

The fact that she didn't know what Cora wanted made her wary, but what choice did she have but to put that aside until she got home?

She dropped the mirror onto her bag and turned back to the lake. She'd already spent quite a bit of time trying to conjure up a portal like the one she had used with Cora, but to no avail. She could bring images to the surface of the lake, could see almost anything she wanted to see, but she couldn't get through.

And yet, she could feel the magic coursing through her veins. She was Snow White's daughter – no matter how strange of a thought that was – and it was time to take a leap of faith.

She waded into the lake up to her knees. The water was cold, a stark contrast to the warm air.

Closing her eyes, she focused on her emotions, on Henry. The warmth started in her chest and grew hotter as it spread outwards. It scorched her fingers and palms, and when she lifted one hand to her face, she found that it was glowing.

Then she looked down and realized her entire body was glowing.

"I don't have a compass or magic ash or a bean," Emma murmured, "but I'm coming home, Henry." And without pausing to think, to consider all the ways this was a reckless, stupid, idiotic plan, she took a deep breath and dove forward into the lake, and the water closed over her head.

The lake was crystal clear, and the cold caused her to exhaled sharply, tiny bubbles floating in front of her face.

She'd only had a few swimming lessons as a child. It wasn't something most foster children were taught in any formal way – who would bother with lessons for a child that wasn't theirs? – but she'd spent enough time breaking into swimming pools and jumping into lakes as a child to teach herself. Her form wasn't particularly good, but she figured technique probably didn't matter much when trying to swim between worlds.

She wondered vaguely if Mary Margaret – Snow – had had swimming lessons as a child. Was that something people did in fairytales? Teach their children to swim?

Was it something she would have had, if Regina hadn't cast her curse?

She couldn't feel the cold anymore. She couldn't feel much of anything except for the burning in her lungs. Her mind demanded that she return to the surface for oxygen, but she swam deeper instead. The clearness of the water gave way to something murky, darker, as she forced her past where the sunlight could reach.

The warmth in her chest was growing. Or maybe it was the burning in her lungs. She wasn't really sure she could tell the difference between the two.

Darkness encroached on her vision, but even as it did so, the water around her glittered with sparks of brilliant white light. She felt lightheaded.

She couldn't think straight.

But she sort of wished she'd had a chance to ask her mother if she'd ever had swim lessons as a child.

And whether or not their kingdom had had a fairytale equivalent for the foster care system.

The lack of oxygen was too much for her. She twisted under the water and looked upwards, towards the distant light of the surface. She needed to go back, needed to swim up, needed to breathe. But Henry wasn't up there, Henry was on the other side of a portal that had to exist somewhere in this lake.

And she needed to get to Henry more than she needed to breathe.

She knew that was true, of course. Logically. Rationally. If she killed herself before getting home, she'd be of no use to anyone, least of all her son.

But.

She couldn't force her body to turn around.

And she couldn't breathe.

Unable to stop herself, she opened her mouth, unsure if she wanted to inhale or scream. Water rushed into her throat. She panicked, flailing about, awkward and ungainly. There was nothing for her to grab hold of, nothing for her to use to leverage herself towards the surface. The pressure of the water was crushing her, pushing her downwards. She was sinking, with spots dancing in front of her eyes and darkness seeping in from her peripheral vision.

And all she could think of was Henry.

White light burst out of her, and then everything went black.

She woke up much later at the bottom of a well.

Missing that nice little pendant, aren't you, lass?

The words echoed in Belle's mind as she slowly regained consciousness. It felt like fighting her way through quicksand, and the darkness kept trying to pull her back to sleep. But her mind was screaming at her that she needed to wake up, needed to pay attention, needed to fight back.

She forced her eyes open.

Hook glanced down at her.

She started, and tried to jerk away from him. But her movements were hampered by something, and a quick glance down confirmed that her wrists and ankles were tied. The rope had rubbed her skin raw at the wrists, though her tights had protected her ankles from the same treatment. Her head ached, and her neck and back felt stiff, and everything was fuzzy.

She glanced around quickly, trying to take stock of the situation.

She was sitting uncomfortably on the ground, propped up against a tree somewhere in the forest. She was cold and clearly being held captive, but as far as she could tell, she was relatively unharmed.

She swallowed and tried to remember. What had happened?

"Well, you woke up a bit sooner than I had intended," Hook mused. He didn't seem to be paying her any close attention, though. Instead, he was standing over her, wincing slightly, and rubbing his arm with his remaining hand.

"What… what are you… what did you…?" Belle stammered, her words slow and unsteady. It was hard to talk, hard to even think straight. All her memories were jumbled together and hazy.

Missing that nice little pendant, aren't you lass?

She'd left Leroy at the diner and gone back to the library. She'd stayed there for a while, wallowing in her own misery. And then… and then…

Missing that nice little pendant, aren't you lass?

"You came back to the library," Belle said. "You attacked me, you knocked me unconscious. You…" she looked around wildly, feeling the beginnings of panic. "You kidnapped me."

Hook glanced at her, amused. "I did," he agreed. "Did you just figure that out?"

Belle reacted immediately by trying to get away, pushing herself backwards. Without full use of her arms and legs, however, she only succeeded in falling onto her side. The force of hitting the ground knocked the air from her lungs and she tumbled down a small incline before coming to a rest on her back. She lay there, momentarily stunned and gasping for breath.

Above her, the sun was setting, and she could see the sky streaked with red and orange through the close-knit branches of the trees.

Hook walked rather casually to her side. "There's really no point in trying to escape," he said calmly.

Belle swallowed. "Where are we?" she asked desperately. If only she could keep him talking, stall him long enough to come up with a plan…

He reached down and hauled her forcefully to her feet. "Look there," he said, pointing to something behind her. She twisted her neck as far as she could, and caught a glimpse of the road behind her. "We're near the road on the outskirts of your precious Storybrooke," the pirate continued.

He let go of her, and she wobbled for a moment, trying to stay upright. But even as she struggled to regain her balance, she kept her eyes focused on the pirate, and noted the way Hook winced again and rubbed at his shoulder.

He saw her looking and gave a lascivious smirk. "You're not a bad fighter for being pint-sized," he said, making the comment sound lecherous.

Belle shivered at the tone of his voice, but felt a tiny amount of pride that she had apparently managed to hurt him. She didn't remember the fight in the library clearly, but she was fairly certain she wouldn't have let herself be kidnapped without putting up a fight.

"Why are you doing this?" Belle asked finally. "What do you want from me?"

"From you? Nothing. Not really, anyway." He saw the skepticism in her gaze and gave a wolfish smile. "Don't worry. I wouldn't kill a pretty little thing like you."

Belle raised her eyebrows. "You attacked me, tied me up, and dragged me into the forest. And you want me to believe that you don't mean me any harm?"

Hook gave her a long look, then sighed. "It's not about you," he said honestly. "It's never been about you."

"I know that you are mad at Rumple," Belle said softly, trying to sound sympathetic, "and I understand why. But whatever you are thinking of doing, it won't get you what you want."

Hook took a step forward and grabbed her roughly by the arm. "No pendant to protect you, lass. No Dark One to come rushing to your aid anymore, either, now that you've broken that off."

"How did you…?"

"Your friend can't keep his mouth shut," Hook said, dismissively waving aside her question.

"My… my friend?" Belle frowned, trying to clear her thoughts. What was he talking about? What did he know?

"Yes. It seems he told quite a few people all about how you wished you could just forget everything I'd told you. How it hurts too much to remember." He turned his full attention to her then, and she was surprised to see the derision in his eyes. "So you decided you would rather be willfully blind to his faults and everyone else's suffering? Is that it?" He laughed coldly. "So good to know how heroes act."

Belle shook her head. "No… no. I didn't mean that I actually wanted to forget," she protested weakly. "Just… just that it would be easier."

Except, of course, that some part of her desperately did want to forget what Hook had said to her. If she could just go back to yesterday, back to when she thought that there was still hope for her and Rumple, back before everything had gone up in flames and destroyed her faith…

Tears burned in her eyes.

"I wanted to kill you," Hook continued furiously. "I wanted to rip your heart out and crush it in front of Rumplestilskin so that he could feel what it felt like to watch the person he loved most in the world die before his eyes…"

Belle raised her bound wrists and slammed her hands into Hook's face, knocking him backwards. He stumbled, and cursed under his breath and raised his fingers to his bleeding nose. She scrambled backwards, desperate to get away from him. But her bound ankles made it running or even taking normal steps an impossibility, and Hook caught up to her within seconds. He shoved her roughly to the ground, and loomed over, holding his nose with his remaining hand.

"I'm not going to kill you," he snapped angrily. "That was my original plan, but I'm not doing it now." He took a breath to calm his obvious rage, and said in a quieter tone, "It took a while to get you out here. You're light, but it is still a long way to carry another person, and you did quite a number on my shoulder in the library. Besides, I've had to stay in the forest so no one would spot me on the road." He shook his head. "Believe me, if I was going to kill you, I'd have done it in the library and saved myself all this trouble."

"Then what do you want?" Belle asked desperately.

Hook once more hauled her to her feet and started dragging her behind him, towards the road. She couldn't keep up with his fast pace with her ankles tied together, so her feet dragged, bumping into rocks and tree roots, stumbling over the uneven ground. She winced in pain from the rough movement, but kept her eyes on Hook and tried frantically to think.

"Originally I wanted to kill you so that your precious crocodile would know the kind of pain I've gone through," Hook said, glancing back at her. "That didn't work, of course, so I opted for destroying his happiness – you." He yanked her roughly out of the trees and onto the road. "Then you convinced him to take off the pendant, giving me the opportunity to kill you and fulfill my original plan." He smiled chillingly. "But your friend can't keep his mouth shut. And sooner or later, Rumplestilskin is going to hear what you said. And I want that to hurt him, too. I want him to spend the rest of his life thinking that his actions so disgusted you that you would rather forget your very own identity than be forced to remember him."

"What… what are you…?"

Beyond Hook, Belle caught sight of a line painted on the road, marking the town's border, and her breath caught in her throat as the truth of Hook's plan unfolded in front of her. "No, no… please…" she begged, unable to keep the sheer panic out of her voice. For the first time since regaining consciousness, she felt true, unadulterated terror. "Please, don't do this. You've already hurt him, you don't need to do this. Please."

"Please understand, lass," Hook said softly, "it's nothing personal."

And without another word, he shoved Belle across the town line.