Chapter Eighty-Two—"The Darkest Days"
"That she will, dearie. Starting today."
Emma was so glad that Henry had gone over to the Golds' house. Although, seeing Gold—Rumplestiltskin, this is definitely Rumplestiltskin—here in all his dark glory made her doubt some of the wisdom of that decision, she knew in her heart that Gold would never harm his own daughter. That restraint, however, didn't seem to extend to the rest of the town, because a lot of people were already bleeding and some were even on the ground. That nasty wind had scraped across Emma's left arm when she'd tried to shove someone out of the way, cutting right through her leather jacket and slicing skin open like a giant rug burn. The power in it had sent a chill down her spine; Emma had seen and felt magic before, but nothing so toxic and dark as that.
Rising from her crouch, Emma remembered what Belle had said. "Whatever Rumplestiltskin does, it's not his decision. He can't fight someone who holds the dagger." She really wanted that to be wrong, for there to be some way around that, but she had to trust the librarian. Belle was married to the man, and she should know. That, and Neal backed her up. He'd know, too. Gold's his freaking father.
Yeah, that was still a weird thought.
But that made Gold family in a roundabout way, which made Emma reluctant to fight against him, particularly if he wasn't doing this of his own free will. Gold had stolen David's heart back, and he'd helped her—damn unexpectedly—when the Jabberwocky had tried to paralyze her with fear. Emma felt like she owed him, and she didn't like owing. Still, there was no dagger and no Cora in sight, and they had to deal with this mess now. Before anyone got hurt worse than they already had.
"You got a purpose here other than terrorizing people?" Emma demanded before her mother could say something else. She also drew her sidearm, but didn't point it at Gold; from what Neal had told her, shooting him wouldn't do a damn bit of good, and, well, Emma didn't feel right doing it when Gold wasn't in control of his own actions.
His chuckle was soft, and very dangerous. "I'm glad you asked, Sheriff. Because I certainly do."
Gold's right hand came up, and suddenly town hall started coming apart at its seams. First to go were the rafters supporting the ceiling; they shook free with an ominous ripping sound. The ceiling followed right after, caving in before anyone could move away, falling towards the floor with a crash. The far wall—oddly enough, the one the least amount of people were near—collapsed, too, clouds of dust and debris filling the room. Those almost muffled the cries of pain Emma could hear as she shrugged off plaster and ceiling tiles, jumping to her feet and making sure she hadn't lost her gun in the process. She'd been lucky and hadn't been hit by anything more solid, but a rafter had hit David and Snow, and both were struggling to get out from under it, clearly disoriented and in pain.
Yet Gold stood in the midst of the destruction, completely untouched and emotionless—until Emma saw his eyes flick to the right, settling on the only other people who had not been pounded into the floor by the devastation the Dark One had wrought: his wife and son. Belle and Neal were dusty, but unharmed, without even scratches from the dark wind Gold had called up. Both looked horrified and worried, and Belle started to take a step forward before Neal caught her arm.
But by then, Gold had shaken his head, and a second dark wind roared into the room—again, Emma noticed, not touching Belle or Neal. By the time it ended, Gold was gone, and Emma had her hands full dealing with the wounded.
The death toll stood at seventeen by the time they finished digging everyone out of the rubble hours later, including three fairies, Sir Frederick, Dopey, Mulan, Billy, and Hansel.
He'd yanked the outlaw out when the second wind had started, teleporting Robin of Locksley away from town hall and around the corner. No one would be in this alleyway, now, and he could send Robin back into the mess after he was done with him. The wind wouldn't die down until Rumplestiltskin was good and ready for it to do so, and for now it served as an efficient distraction as well as fulfilling Cora's commands. Hurt them indiscriminately, she had ordered. Surround them with darkness and make them fear you. Make them believe it.
Rumplestiltskin had done so, though he'd twisted her commands through as many loopholes as he could along the way. He had no doubt that the entire town would hate him after this, because there were going to be at least a dozen dead (he'd counted four before he left, and that didn't count the two old women the doors had flattened during his entrance and who would undoubtedly expire soon), but he had done everything he could to keep the death toll low. He could have killed hundreds without breaking a sweat, but Rumplestiltskin disliked killing for no reason, and causing terror was not reason enough. Particularly when it was Cora who wanted to be feared. Don't lie, his curse whispered, louder now than ever before. You love it.
No, he thought heavily, remembering the horrified looks on Belle's and Bae's faces. No, I really don't.
"What the—?" Robin cut off, wheeling to face him as he landed, hands up and ready to fight.
Sighing, Rumplestiltskin pushed his inner voice away, and with it the pain reverberating through his left shoulder and the rest of his body. He didn't have time for any of those problems right now.
"Calm yourself, dear, I'm not going to hurt you," he snapped. "And the longer this little conversation of ours takes, the longer your friends inside town hall are going to suffer."
"Are you threatening me with their lives?" Robin asked incredulously.
"No, I'm stating a fact." Not rolling his eyes was beyond Rumplestiltskin, so he didn't even try to hide his exasperation.
Backing off a step, the outlaw took a deep breath, then said: "Then what do you want?"
"To give you some information you need. Do with it what you will, but Regina's under a sleeping curse. Her boy should know that, but he doesn't know where she is. I do."
"And why would you tell me that?" Robin was cautious. Good.
Rumplestiltskin smiled darkly, and there was enough threat in the smile to make Robin take another step back. "Let's just say that I don't want Cora to win."
"You're doing her bidding!"
"Indeed I am," he replied dryly, letting his rage make those words low and gravely. "Now, do you want to complain, or do you want to know where she is?"
"Of course I want to know," Robin replied. "What's it going to cost me?"
"Oh, we can let Cora pay the price for this one," Rumplestiltskin decided aloud. He didn't have time for deal making; the pressure was beginning to build in the back of his mind, a slight reminder that he had to return to Cora as soon as his little bout of destruction was finished. "Don't argue," he added when it looked like Robin would, and then continued tersely: "Cora has a house at the edge of town. It's a grand, ugly, Victorian-style mansion, about a half mile off the main road when you're heading north. Jefferson knows where it is, if you don't."
"I've seen it," the outlaw replied, making Rumplestiltskin devoutly grateful that he'd grabbed the woodsman and not the man who ran the animal shelter.
"Regina's in the corner bedroom on the east side of the house. It has two windows; one on the side of the house, and one on the back. The curtains are red. You understand?"
"I understand." Robin bit his lip briefly, and then asked warily: "What do you want me do to with this information?"
"Do you love her?"
Confusion colored the outlaw's face, making him look away. "I—I haven't seen her since before the curse broke. I…"
"Well, figure that out first," Rumplestiltskin snapped, wishing the fool could see the magic weaving around him, the True Love just waiting to be fought for. But Robin would have to make that decision on his own; all Rumplestiltskin could do was put him on the right track. I keep doing this for other people. When will it be my turn for people to stop getting in the way of my True Love? Such questions were pointless, though, so he continued harshly: "And then go get her. If you can't wake her, get her sister or her son do to it. Either will work, though the boy will probably be quicker about it."
Snow White was going to be busy, after all. Rumplestiltskin was certain he'd be seeing to that. Henry, however, was a good boy, and loved his adopted mother. Rumplestiltskin had no doubt that Henry's love would be enough, if the outlaw failed, which at least meant his best student could be back in the game. He worried for Regina, much though he didn't like admitting that to himself. Their relationship was complicated, but he...cared for her, even if he'd never tell her that to her face. Rumplestiltskin knew that a sleeping curse was no picnic, and Regina was undoubtedly suffering even now. Cora had cursed her three days ago, and that was long enough.
Still, his worry didn't extend to waiting for Robin to respond; Rumplestiltskin just waved a hand and sent Robin back into the mess that was town hall. The likelihood of anyone noticing the outlaw's absence was slim, and as much as he really wanted to extend that conversation—the better to stay away from Cora—Rumplestiltskin knew he could not. His commands had been fulfilled; it was time to go back.
A terrified shiver shook his body before he teleported, but Rumplestiltskin had no choice.
The dragon had come while the Dark One was away, just as Cora had expected. She'd been waiting on Maleficent, knowing that her foe would decide to strike when Rumplestiltskin was busy slaughtering peasants in town hall. Under other circumstances, Cora would have enjoyed watching Rumple at his work—because no one inspired fear better than the Dark One, particularly when he chose to terrify—but first she had to deal with the dragon. So, she'd stationed August outside, tasked with delivering a message when Maleficent did deign to arrive. In payment for which, she'd allow him a short visit with his father…provided he didn't get himself burnt to death in the process.
Either way, it was a win for Cora. The worst she lost would be a semi-useful spy, but in return for that, Cora would no longer have to keep an annoying old man in her cellar. I should just rip his heart out and be done with it, she decided, rising from her chair as she heard the distinctive dragon roar outside. She would deal with Geppetto later. If August lived, she would take his heart. Otherwise, the old man was finished.
Cora walked outside with her head held high, to find her former puppet standing in front of a snarling black dragon, trying to back away without finding himself charbroiled. Maleficent looked furious, with her tail lashing back and forth, endangering trees and Zelena's car in the driveway, but the sight made the Evil Queen smile. Maleficent might tell herself that she was biding her time, or not harming an innocent, but Cora knew what this meant. Maleficent was hesitating. Her heart wasn't into destruction, or she feared her daughter might be in the house. Otherwise, the dragon would have burned it to the ground by now, given that she'd hardly chosen this moment—the moment when Cora did not have the support of the one sorcerer who could undoubtedly take on a dragon and survive (and had done so multiple times, if the stories were accurate)—if she wanted to talk peacefully.
"I'm surprised you waited so long before showing up, dear," she said with a smile, acting as if Maleficent had not tried to burn her to death just the day before. "I would invite you in for a drink, but I fear you would not fit in your current form."
A giant burst of fire filled the air, so close that it singed the ends of Cora's hair. But she stood calmly, waiting with one eyebrow raised, and finally, Maleficent returned to her human form, staff in hand and glaring.
"Cora," the dragon-sorceress grated out furiously, waving a hand that picked August up off the ground and threw him to the side. Maleficent stalked forward, but Cora only smiled.
"Won't you come in?" she asked sweetly.
"I'd rather stay outside."
"Very well. If you want to turn this into some macabre magical contest, I can't stop you," she said with a shrug. "But if you prefer to learn of your daughter's fate, I'll be in the drawing room."
Yes, that did the trick. Cora didn't even look over her shoulder as she walked inside, knowing that Maleficent would follow her. After a moment, footsteps did echo her own on the way up the stairs, through the door, and into her comfortable drawing room. Turning in front of her favorite chair, Cora seated herself as Maleficent paused in the doorway. The dragon-sorceress' eyes were still afire with rage and ill-concealed worry, but at least she was thinking, now. And to think I almost left her alone when I planned the curse, Cora thought behind her calm smile. Maleficent's silly attempt to ally with Snow prior to the curse showed me exactly what she was willing to do, and now I shall use that.
"Where is my daughter?" Maleficent demanded without sitting down.
"Won't you have a seat?"
"No."
"Very well," Cora sighed. "Then I will keep this short and simple. Your daughter—Lilith, I believe?—is safe and well. For her to remain that way, you will have to assist me."
"No." Cold blue eyes met her own, and Cora felt slightly taken aback. She had not expected a refusal so quickly! Maleficent, however, continued steadily: "You don't need my help, and I'll be no one's lackey. You return Lilith to me, and I will remain neutral. Otherwise, I will burn this house down around you and take my chances."
Well. She was toying with fire, and Maleficent was offering the precise bare minimum Cora had been prepared to accept. Cora had anticipated the negotiations being more drawn out and far more interesting, but she would take what she could get.
"As you wish," she said. After all, Maleficent would have been a tricky ally, and if Cora had had to constantly hold her daughter's safety over her head, things would have undoubtedly gotten messy. Her end goal had always been to keep Maleficent from allying with Snow and her nauseating little allies, anyway.
"Lilith has been well cared for?" Maleficent demanded, her eyes suddenly wide and urgent, and Cora resisted the urge to tell the dragon-sorceress how very weak that made her look.
"Of course she has," Cora reassured her instead. "I will have her delivered to your home immediately, provided I have your word that you will not act against me."
"You do." Anger replaced the worry on the beautiful face, and Maleficent scowled. "You didn't have to take my daughter to guarantee that!"
"I did," Cora replied, rising. "And we both know why. Please do tell your friends that they are more than welcome as my allies—as are you, once you are less angry with me."
Maleficent snorted. "I'll tell them, but don't count on the help."
"I don't."
"No, why count on anyone else when you have the Dark One on a leash?" the other woman asked rhetorically, rolling her eyes. "A word of advice to you, dear. I'm older than you are, and I've known Rumplestiltskin a very long time. Perhaps not as intimately as you have, but I know him well enough to understand this: you'll lose control of him, and he will ruin you."
"I thank you for the advice," she replied solemnly. But you have no idea how badly I will break him, now, do you? Cora added mentally, suppressing a smile at the thought. "Now. Let us reunite you with your daughter, shall we?"
They spent the entire evening and most of the night digging through the rubble, and everyone pitched in. By the time Belle got home that evening, she was too tired to talk much, let alone think. David came with them to pick up a very sleepy Henry, which let Dove and Babette head home while Belle and her stepson trudged up the stairs.
"It's bad, isn't it?" Bae asked quietly, his face pale and dirty. "What she's doing to Papa."
Belle nodded, not sure she trusted her voice. "Yeah."
"He looked terrible."
"It's…it's a long story," she whispered. "But I think he probably is."
"I'm gonna ask you about that when I'm less tired," Bae warned her tiredly, and Belle could only nod again.
"Seventeen," Cora said softly, standing outside his cage. She'd been busy when he returned, first returning Maleficent's daughter to her and then taking Geppetto's heart while August watched in horror. Good riddance to him, Rumplestiltskin thought, knowing the puppet had betrayed his son to this bitch. That, of course, had led to Geppetto being freed by Zelena after a harsh little lesson for August in how badly someone could be harmed when their heart was in another's hands. Still, that little lesson had kept both Mills women out of the cellar for hours, and Rumplestiltskin had been grateful for that.
"You only killed seventeen?" the Evil Queen continued, her voice low and furious. She held the dagger tightly; he could feel that through his curse, could feel her fury beating at him as he stood inside the cage, unable to run from her and oh so wary. "I told you to terrify them!"
Her fury was growing to near-painful proportions, but Rumplestiltskin forced himself to sneer.
"And that I did," he replied, leaning on his own snarky attitude for support. "Hundreds of others were injured, and I created complete pandemonium. They were quite terrified, dearie."
"I wanted a bloodbath." Now Cora's voice was a whisper, and that was far more dangerous than any shout.
"Then you should have specified."
A gesture with the dagger made his magic drag him out of the cage, teleporting him straight to his knees at Cora's feet. Not far away, Zelena lurked with a bright-eyed expression of rage marring her pretty features; she was mamma's toady, and would gleefully follow wherever Cora led. Including hurting me, Rumplestiltskin thought, shivering.
He hated being helpless. Hated being on his knees like some damn slave, hated looking up at her and trying desperately to take refuge in anger, if only to hide his terror. But two days in Cora and Zelena's hands had proven worse than almost the entirety of the previous twenty-eight years combined, and he knew the pain was coming. All he could do was try to delay it a little, and then use his own unrepentant attitude to try to control when they hurt him more.
"You'll pay for that," Cora said, still quiet.
Rumplestiltskin swallowed hard. "I imagine I will."
"Oh, Rumple," his old lover whispered, reaching out to stroke his face. He burned to pull away, but that early command stuck; he couldn't, and all he could do was shudder at even this gentle touch. "Why do you fight me so? You know that the only way I won't hurt you is if you cooperate."
"You'll hurt me anyway," he snorted. "We both know that."
"I do enjoy it," Cora admitted with a shrug. "But you do love to earn your punishments."
"Not really," he said, his throat suddenly dry.
"Well, earn them you have," she snarled, suddenly angry again, and Rumplestiltskin could only brace himself.
"Leave her alone," Ingrid pleaded hours later. "Emma is no longer a threat to you."
Zelena laughed, Cora sat back in her chair and studied the Snow Queen. "Now, why would I do that? What does Miss Swan mean to you, anyway?"
Cora held her heart; Ingrid had no choice but to reply honestly: "I was her foster mother," she whispered. "I meant to adopt her."
"Well, you should have," Zelena giggled, running a rough hand through the Dark One's hair. Rumplestiltskin was on his knees at her feet, looking at none of the women, save for when he spared Zelana the rare mutinous glance. Ingrid supposed his presence was some sort of lesson aimed at her; if Cora could bring the Dark One so low, what chance did she have?
He looked terrible, but Ingrid was not there to pity Rumplestiltskin. She was there to save Emma. Meanwhile, Zelena yanked on Rumplestiltskin's hair, but when he only reacted with a grunt of discomfort, she looked back at Ingrid and added: "Then she wouldn't have been a problem here, now would she have?"
"Why did you want to adopt her?" Cora asked, and Ingrid could feel the fingers tapping on her heart. Every time a nail hit, she twitched involuntarily in pain.
"She was"—No, she didn't want to say how she'd been told that the Savior would be the sister she'd always wanted. She couldn't. "Emma was just a girl," Ingrid answered, and that was honest enough. "I came to love her. I wanted to be her family."
"And you still do?"
"Of course!"
"Make her kill Emma, Mother. That would be beautiful irony," Zelena cooed, and Ingrid wished more than anything than to be able to freeze that bitch's heart right now. She's insane, Ingrid thought, watching the witch in horror. And she wants to hurt anyone who has something she doesn't, like the genuine ability to care for another person.
"No. Not yet. Later, perhaps," Cora mused, and Ingrid froze.
"Please don't," she whispered. The next words came out desperately. "I can convince her to leave with me. I know the outside world. I can get Emma to bring her son and we can leave."
Perhaps they would never find Elsa if they did that, but Ingrid would take that risk. She had to save Emma at all costs. Cora, however, laughed.
"Oh, no. I want her mother to suffer, my dear Snow Queen, and that means that she'll watch her daughter die. I have plans for Miss Swan, and they don't involve letting her—or anyone else—escape. This is my town, and no one leaves without my permission."
"But—"
The hand clamped down on her heart, and Ingrid screamed.
People started heading to the town line before dawn, eager to escape a Storybrooke terrorized by the Dark One. Yet they were cautious, because none of them had ever actually left town; some had memories of having been elsewhere, but they all now knew that they never really had been. So, no one was quite brave enough to step over it until the dwarves—now six in number, with the loss of Dopey, and haggard after having been up all night helping find survivors and mourning their dead—stepped up. Immediately, Leroy pulled a can of spray paint out and marked the line, plain as day for everyone to see.
"This, gentlemen, is our mission," he said tiredly. "The great barrier of our existence, the one thing that keeps us in this town with a psychopathic Evil Queen and her pet Dark One. Does it remain? We must investigate the line. If we don't, we'll all be stuck here with the crazies."
"Why do we have to do it?" Walter, formerly Sleepy, asked nervously.
Leroy pulled out a small bag with straws inside and ignored the question. "I made straws. Short one crosses. Draw."
Happy reached in the bag, looking hopeful. "With the curse broken, we can cross, right? Should be no problem, yeah?"
Walter just shook his head, looking mournful. "With magic back, it could be even worse now. And the Evil Queen might have done something to it. No one has seen her in two days, not since Maleficent tried to kill her."
"And failed," Leroy pointed out, still handing out straws. His brothers took them, at least, even if they were arguing.
"Like, vaporize us," Doc pointed out.
Immediately, Bashful piped up: "Let's go home."
"Guys! We are the royal guard! Dwarves loyal to Snow White!" Leroy snarled, barely able to keep his anger in. "This is our chance to prove ourselves to everyone, and make sure that no one else has to die like Dopey did. If we can leave, we can everyone to where there's no magic, and then we can filet that bitch of a queen. We must do this. Show your hands."
The others did, all except for Sneezy, who promptly sneezed. Twice.
Well, that's fitting. "You're up, Snotty," he said as kindly as he could. Which wasn't very nice. Leroy knew he was taking Dopey's death hard, but they all were. They hadn't lost someone since Stealthy, and losing a brother was like losing a limb. Only worse.
Sneezy smiled nervously. "You know, what if we found a turtle and sort of nudged it over first?"
"Oh, for the love of—" Cutting off, he reached out and shoved Sneezy over the line, maybe a little harder than he needed to, but there was no time to lose.
Whoosh.
They all waited a moment as Sneezy blinked and staggered, turning to stare at them with wide eyes. Leroy kept waiting for Sneezy to speak, but the idiot just stood there.
"Sneezy, you okay? Sneezy!"
Their brother blinked. "Who the hell is 'Sneezy'?"
The crowd behind them froze, and soon enough, word started getting through that Sneezy was now Mr. Clark, and that no one could leave Storybrooke without losing their true selves. No one was sure if they were more afraid of that or of Cora…but they knew they could not continue to live in a town like this.
No one else crossed the line that morning, and by the time someone tried that afternoon, there was new magic in place. No one spontaneously burst into flames; no, that would have been crass. Instead, Zelena's magic simply turned them into flying monkeys, doomed to serve the Wicked Witch of the West and her beloved mother until someone broke them free.
As it so happened, Doctor Whale was the first.
A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has continued to review, particularly those of you who left me reviews while I was on vacation! Seeing them when I got internet again really made my life.
Stay tuned for Chapter Eighty-Three—"Hope in Strange Places", when Belle and Baelfire take a look at that contract, the Jabberwocky goes after Snow, Hook and Tink have a heart to heart, Henry stumbles upon a secret, and strangers come to Storybrooke.