DISCLAIMER: I do not dare claim any ownership for the fabulous characters, situations, plots and/or spins on old stories that ABC's geniuses have given us on Once Upon a Time.
This is a what-if story: The way I figure, something DID jog his memory that night in the pawn shop…but it wasn't the windmill…
In the shadow of the toll bridge
Saving the Savior
It was bad enough that Snow seemed to be missing. Mr. Shields's I'm sure she's just running late, kid was certainly proof that the school didn't really know where Mary Margaret Blanchard was. But when he arrived at the sheriff's office and found it empty, true panic set in. Surely she wasn't out on a call already. This was Storybrooke. Nothing ever happened here. Nervously, he jogged a bit down the square and was a little relieved when he spotted Emma's yellow bug parked in front of Collodi's. Quickening his pace, he ran up to the fix-it shop and garage and pulled on the handle…it was locked. With a gulp, he peeked through the glass windows but could see nothing of Geppetto let alone Emma. When he stepped back, he noticed a cardboard Back By: clock sign suctioned to the window with 2 red plastic hands pointing to 12. Maybe his mom had gone out somewhere with the old man, but he doubted it. He strained his neck around and looked up at the town clock tower. 10:47. According to the sign, Geppetto wouldn't be back until noon. The minutes were ticking by and Henry grew more and more anxious. The morning after Emma read that note, both she and Snow were missing: what were the chances that this was coincidence? In this town? Less than slim. And though he'd gotten over his initial, rather comical fears about how Emma might have reacted, legitimate fears were rapidly sinking in.
It was almost 11. He couldn't just stand here waiting. He had to do something, if only to lessen the odds of someone stopping him and asking why he wasn't in school. Without a clue as to how he might get in touch with Pops right now, Henry decided there was only one place left to go – someone with a penchant for thinking things through logically and calmly. Someone…like Jiminy Cricket.
Mission in hand, Henry sprinted across the square to the little green door of the little white shop that stood sandwiched between two office buildings. The soles of his sneakers whacked rhythmically across the pavement until he was almost upon it and then he froze, ducking behind a metal trash receptacle. Sonuvagun! There was Geppetto! He was jogging up the front steps to the green door. Henry must have just missed him leaving Collodi's. Heart racing (but also feeling kinda cool…almost like a secret agent) Henry crept towards the building and followed Geppetto inside, maintaining enough distance between them so the old man wouldn't suspect.
Peeking through one of the side panes that flanked the door, he watched as Geppetto continued down the long hallway and turned into the stairwell. Once the coast was clear, he sucked in a breath and pulled on the handle, stepping into the small foyer and straining his ear toward the ceiling as the door latched behind him. The walls were so thin in this old building, he could hear Geppetto walking the upstairs hallway to knock on Jiminy's office door. He chewed on his bottom lip. Getting up those rickety stairs would be a challenge. With a deep breath, Henry turned and quietly paced down the hallway and peered around the corner into the stairwell. Thinking for a moment, he stopped and removed his shoes and proceeded to creep up the stairs in his socks, taking each step slowly and with extreme care. Once at the top, he could hear voices. Geppetto had gone into Jiminy's office and they were talking, but he'd left the door open! The voices were muffled of course, but Geppetto sounded agitated. After setting his shoes down in the corner of the landing, Henry removed his bookbag and placed it beside the sneakers. Then, with entirely more stealth than the situation probably warranted, Henry skulked along the hall, tucking himself into the recesses made by closed office doors along the way. Once he was far enough to distinguish between the voices, he stopped, held his breath and listened.
"I fear I may be making a mountain from a mole hill, but I confess there are some things that have me worried," Geppetto was saying.
Henry heard what sounded like chair legs being scraped across the floor. "Really?" came Jiminy's voice. "What's happened?"
Geppetto told Jiminy of a strange email he'd received from Michael Tillman. Henry drew a sharp breath for it sounded like the old man had grown just as skeptical about Michael's disappearance as Henry had. And much more so than Emma, it seemed. "I have known Michael for years. It just…isn't like him to leave without an explanation."
"Must have been something very serious then."
"Perhaps but—ah, I just don't know. It feels…off."
"I agree," Henry could picture Jiminy nodding and adjusting his glasses. "A bit unsettling."
"But that's not all, Arch. You remember I told you I'd hired that young man who was in the paper a few weeks ago?"
"The guy in the coma?"
Henry's eyes shot open. Geppetto had hired Pops? When did that happen?
"That's right, David Nolan."
"What about him?"
Geppetto let out a strained, old-man sigh. "Well, I hired him on to help out with some of the repairs, you know. Many things lately, now that the tree lighting is almost upon us."
"Yeah?"
"Well…it seems Mr. Nolan is missing too."
"What?" Henry cried, his cover blown and he didn't care. He sprinted the length of the hallway and burst into the office as both Geppetto and Jiminy leapt out of their chairs.
"Henry!" Jiminy cried. "What are you—"
"He's gone? David Nolan is gone?"
"Dear boy!" Marco cried, "You nearly—"
"Please Mr. Collodi, I know I shouldn't be here. And I'm really sorry for snooping. But you gotta tell me. Why do you think Mr. Nolan is missing?"
Marco looked over at Archie, flabbergasted. What in the world was going on today?
"Henry," Archie recovered, stepping over to the boy. "Why aren't you in school?"
Henry glanced up at his shrink, looking sheepish. "I ditched."
"Henry!"
"I'm sorry! I just—" he shook his head and looked back at Geppetto. "You said it yourself. This stuff has you worried. Well me too. Miss Blanchard wasn't in school today…and I can't find my mom."
Marco darted his head down at the boy. "The mayor is gone?"
"No," Archie said, eyeing his patient very differently. "He means Emma Swan."
"Oh of course!" Marco said, pointing at Archie. "I think I that's her car parked outside my shop. I assumed she'd gone into Tony's but—" he looked back to Henry, "no?"
"No."
"Henry," Archie cleared his throat. "What do you mean Miss Blanchard wasn't in school today? Is she sick?"
The boy shook his head vehemently. "Doesn't look like it. And Emma wasn't at the station. Archie…" he reached forward and tugged on Jiminy's jacket sleeve, fisting a clump of tweed in his little hand and pulling the doctor into a crouch. "You know what this means."
Archie slid his eyes closed and pushed his glasses up on his nose. Sadly, he glanced up at his friend before answering. "The curse Henry?" he asked, though the doubt in his voice was clear.
Henry sighed. He knew the doctor didn't believe him about Storybrooke. Not really. But he had hoped the mysterious disappearance of Prince Charming, Snow White and their daughter all at the same time might rattle the cages a bit.
"What…curse?" asked Marco, eyeing the young lad most peculiarly.
Henry turned, prepared to issue his standard 'need-to-know' cover for those outside Operation Cobra, but he was startled to find no skepticism in Geppetto's voice. Nor could he detect anything beyond curiosity in his gentle eyes. He gulped as he beheld them both: Geppetto the Master Craftsman and Jiminy Cricket. Two people he knew Prince Charming would trust with his life. What would Pops do? he asked himself, and thought back to that night at the pawn shop when James stalked inside to save his daughter from making another fateful deal. Pops would take a risk, he thought. Pops would take a risk to protect his family. "Here's the deal, Marco," he turned to fully face Geppetto. "Storybrooke…is not a real town. It was once an enchanted forest. You know…like in fairy tales?"
Marco didn't budge. He didn't even blink. Merely listened.
"Well, everyone was living there, happily ever after, until the evil queen sent them all to live here…with the curse. For years you've all been trapped…frozen in time by the curse without your happy endings. Frozen…until Emma arrived. She's the savior. She's the one who has to bring back the happy endings. And David Nolan and Mary Margaret? They're Snow White and Prince Charming…Emma's parents."
Marco stared at him, quite mystified. The tale seemed to be complete for the boy had taken a huge laborious breath, as if he'd just run a mile, and was now waiting for a reaction. The whole thing was preposterous, of course. Evil queens, curses, Snow White and an enchanted forest: quite fanciful, and yet…he couldn't seem to find the words to respond. In fact, he couldn't seem to react at all.
"Henry," Archie said after a time and proceeded to chastise the young lad for skipping out of school. Marco remained silent while they squabbled, the child's whimsical tale churning around in his mind. For years you've all been trapped…frozen in time by the curse without your happy endings…without your happy endings…
"I know how strongly you believe in this curse, Henry, but it's not an excuse to cut class—" Archie was saying.
"Of course it is! Think about it—what are the odds that Prince Charming and Snow White go missing at the same time?"
The argument went back and forth but Marco could only half listen. It was once an enchanted forest. You know…like in fairy tales? The old mechanic shook his head and drifted back a few days, recalling a very strange charcoal sketch and two very amusing young men…
"If anyone can do this," said David, "It's you."
"I have never built anything from scratch. And if I did, I certainly would start with something like this. I don't even think it's possible, Sean. This—" he thrust his forefinger at the drawing— "is the stuff of fairy tales."
Sean cleared his throat and softened his tone. "That's true, Marco," he said. "And that's exactly what I want for Ashley. A fairy tale"…
"Please, Archie. Just help me find them," Henry whined. "Wouldn't Storybrooke be much better off if we found the deputy before—"
"Henry," Marco said at last, startled by how hoarse he sounded. Both Archie and the boy turned to him. "In this…enchanted forest," he said clearing his throat.
"Yeah?" Henry jumped towards him.
"Who…" he started, hesitating as he looked between Archie and the child… If anyone can do this…it's you… "Who…was I?" he asked at last.
Marco never saw Archie so astonished but he barely had time to notice, for the child's face broke into an enormous grin as he bounced up and down in his socks. Henry glanced up between them – Archie still completely stunned while Marco waited anxiously. With a clever, almost devious grin, the boy leaned forward and asked, "You ever read Pinocchio?"
…
Snow and James stood on opposite sides of the room, running their hands over the papered surfaces looking for tricks or latches or weaknesses in the walls. It was a fruitless endeavor; that they both knew. But neither royal had ever been good at just sitting still. "Anything?" James asked as he replaced another upside-down portrait back where it had been hanging.
"No," Snow grunted, using her hip to push aside an empty bureau, the doors of which had been re-hinged upside-down. While it scraped along the floor, James thought he heard faint clicking sounds. He snapped his fingers at Snow who stopped immediately. They both turned to the door and Snow let out a small gasp when she saw shadows moving beneath it. Just then, they heard the padlocks on the other side start to rattle and clank. Someone was unlocking the room. Glancing at Snow, James laid his index finger to his lips and gestured his head toward the entrance. Snow nodded and crept along her wall to the doorway, tip-toeing right up to the frame. James retrieved the chair Snow had been tied to earlier and positioned himself on the other side, ready to strike the assailant from behind. They nodded to each other and drew sharp breaths as the last lock was undone. The door creaked open.
"Snow?" she heard softly from between the crack…and then Emma pushed her way inside.
Snow's heart leapt as the door swung open and immediately, she threw her arms around her daughter. "Emma!" she whispered fiercely, "You're ok." Her eyes slammed shut and she squeezed tight, her fears and doubts eradicated as she breathed in the genuine warmth of a daughter's love.
Emma squeezed too, returning the embrace in full as she glanced up at James over Snow's shoulder. Robotically, the prince set the chair he'd been shouldering down beside him and watched in awe, overwhelmed by the sight of mother and daughter reconciled at last. He didn't move, for he didn't dare interrupt Snow's reunion. But when Emma looked up at him and nodded, her eyes puffy and a little red, his joy was so intense it bordered on painful. The dread he'd felt after that first hostile exchange in the woods now twisted itself free from his gut, and James sucked in a breath, steadying himself against the relief that washed over him, managing at last, a genuine smile as he beamed down at his daughter with a grateful nod.
Emma smiled back – wondering briefly how she'd ever looked into his crystalline gaze and not known he was her father – and then eventually pulled away. The three of them stood still for a moment; words of course were utterly inadequate which was ironic for there was so much she wanted to ask. So much now she wanted to know. But it certainly wasn't the time or the place, and it was perhaps a fortunate reprieve from more emotional upheaval that her parents suddenly became aware of Jefferson standing behind her, watching them warily – his gun still held down at his side.
Snow's attention shifted to the madman and immediately launched on the offensive. "You!" she yelled and started forward, heedless of the gun and shoving her way through the door as the group trailed behind her and spilled into the odd little lounge. Snow nearly reached him, but Emma held her off.
"Wait!" she cried, stepping between them and pulling Snow back into James who rushed up behind her. "He's all right. He…" she paused, looking back at the hatter who, in response to Snow's understandable outrage, had sprung back toward the checkered hallway and raised his gun. "He just wants our help," she glowered over at him.
Jefferson glared at the ebony-haired princess, impressed by – though still wary of – her legendary tenacity. Gradually, he lowered the gun. "My apologies…your Majesty," he gave a slight bow, before tucking the gun behind him, holstering it in his back waistband, and raising his arms in a truce. "Your reputation precedes you."
"What does that mean?" she snapped.
Jefferson chuckled. "It means that while your nickname among the gentry was the Fairest—"
James clamped his hand down on his wife's shoulder, holding her back—
"Your commoners more often referred to you as…the Fearless," he bowed again.
Snow's eyes narrowed as she shrugged her husband's hand from her shoulder and crossed her arms. "Is that why you drugged and dragged me through the forest?"
Jefferson took a step forward and Emma held her breath as the hatter glanced down at Snow. "Yes," he said. James stifled a laugh.
"He's just trying to get home," Emma explained as she eased her mother away from the nice man in the hat. "And he thinks," she glanced nervously back at the hatter and then over to James. "He thinks I have the power to do it."
James stepped out from behind Snow. "You?"
She nodded. "He says I…" her gaze darted between them. "He says I have magic." Emma watched as her father's brow creased in confusion. He glanced at Snow who seemed equally perplexed. This was not a good sign. Not the reaction she'd hoped for, but she decided to press on regardless. "Is he right?" she asked, looking between them. "Do I have…like, powers or something?"
"Of course you do—" griped Jefferson, but Emma whirled on him and cut him off.
"Hey!" she barked. "Do you mind?" she looked back to her parents. "Look I know I'm new to this whole princes and castles and-and fairies thing but…I figure if I'm…the savior—" she rolled her eyes, as irked by that word as Snow seemed to be about 'fairest'— "then I figure there's a chance, right? And if anyone would know—"
"Of course there's a chance!" the hatter squabbled, tapping his foot impatiently on the floor and rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. "She brought magic back to town," he barked at Snow and James. "Why do you think the clock started ticking—"
"That doesn't mean she has magical powers—" started Snow.
"True love's kiss," James muttered suddenly and both women whirled their heads around. He looked down at Snow, "True love's kiss!" he said again.
"What?" Snow reeled back.
Emma's hand came to her hip as jammed her thumb toward Jefferson. "I am not kissing—"
"No," James shook his head and cringed, "no that's not—" he sighed and started again. "We've always said 'true love's kiss is the most powerful thing of all' right? It breaks any curse?"
"Right?" Snow said, wife and daughter eyeing him warily.
"Well I don't know about you, but I always took that to mean that love…" he shook his hands and shrugged, searching for the words, "you know just… conquers all. Love can overcome any magic." Emma still looked thoroughly confused, but understanding dawned in Snow's face. "But what if love really is…magic?" he said. "Literally."
An image flashed in Snow's mind. "If you can bottle love, you can do anything," she droned, recalling that horrid afternoon she'd sought out Rumpelstiltskin's help in plotting revenge against the queen. She grasped her husband's arm. "He was serious James. He was actually trying to bottle love." In her weakest hours, unable to bear the pain of a broken heart, she drank one of the imp's potions which turned her heart cold. For years she had wished she could forget that awful few weeks when she'd mistreated her friends and surrendered herself to darkness. Now, she was thankful she hadn't.
"What are you talking about?" Emma snapped, both hands at her waist now as she rested her weight over one hip.
Snow turned to her daughter. "Rumpelstiltskin once told me that love…is the most powerful magic of all. Now I wasn't really listening at the time because…well, that's another story. But I assumed he was being metaphorical. Like James said – Love conquering all? –like-like needing Courage to defeat the hydra or Wisdom to face the sphinx."
"But if he was serious," James stepped toward her, "about bottling love—"
Snow snapped her eyes shut, trying to picture 'Stiltskin's lair. "He had a space for it. On his shelf in his cabinet."
"And he's the one who told us that you would be the key," James added, clenching his fists at his sides. "He knew you would come back, that you would escape the curse and be able to fight it."
"He had a lock of my hair—"
"And my cloak—"
"Umm, hello!" said the hatter, waving furiously behind them, "could we possibly quibble over our past blunders after she makes my hat?"
"Shh!" Snow snapped and turned right back to James. "We were so foolish. He can't see the future. Rumpelstiltskin knew how that curse would work because he made it! He made it with us in mind, James."
"First rule of dark curses," James remembered suddenly. Gods above, he'd practically admitted it in the shop. "Always leave an exit clause."
"Which means what?" Emma cried, feeling strangely more like a daughter now than ever before. Exactly what were they talking about and why wasn't she in on it?
"Which means, princess," Jefferson suddenly chimed in and draped his arm over Emma's shoulders, "that you're even more powerful than I realized…if you're part of a curse built by the Dark One himself."
The color drained from Emma's face as her heart sank to her stomach. "I'm…I'm part of the curse?" she rasped, stumbling backward.
"No," James said sternly, shooting a glare at the hatter who backed off instantly as the prince stepped over to his daughter. "No not at all. In fact just the opposite."
"The curse works by destroying people's happy endings. By taking away what they love," Snow said softly, "Oh James, why didn't we think of it before?"
"We did though," he answered as Snow came up beside them. "In a way. Restore all the happy endings. Isn't that what we've been trying to do?"
Emma jerked her head back and forth between the two. "I'm sorry, but could you guys please start making sense?"
"Love, Emma," James squeezed her hands. "Regina used Stiltskin's curse to take away Love. Can't havea happy ending without it. But you—" he looked straight into her eyes, "you brought it back. When you road into town with Henry, you brought Love back to Storybrooke."
Emma started, shaking her head. "What does that mean?"
"It means that before you came, the only magic here was dark magic. Magic Regina has been using to maintain the curse. But you are the result of our love—" Emma shuddered at her father. That just sounded…icky. But she kept listening— "Love that Stiltskin must have figured out how to harness into actual magic."
"You're not part of the curse, Emma," Snow placed a hand on her daughter's back. "You're its Achilles heel," she glanced at James. "Love…our love."
"So…" Emma started slowly, "if he turned love into magic...into…me—"
"Then you," Snow said with a grin, "must be more powerful than the queen herself."
James felt her hands slacken as they slipped out of his own and his daughter shrunk away from them.
"That," she stammered, thrusting her palms out in front of her, "That's just…nuts." More powerful than the queen? She gulped. "No…no that can't be…I mean I don't feel like I…" What exactly did she feel like? (A drink…that's what she felt like. She needed a drink).
Reading the stricken expression on her daughter's face, Snow returned to her side at once. "I know…it seems like a lot."
"A lot?" Emma cried, yanking her hands through her hair. "I came in here hoping you could teach me a few…I dunno tricks. You know a little hocus pocus? Magic spells? Harry Potter type stuff!"
James glanced at Snow. "Harry Potter?"
Snow shook her head.
"And suddenly I'm some sort of all powerful, ramped up version of Cupid who can destroy the queen? Don't you think there'd be some proof of that?"
"There is proof!" Jefferson said impatiently as he leaned his back against the archway, thunking his head against the molding. "The clock. Has started. To tick!"
"Shut up!" Emma growled.
"He's right though," James came to her other side. "When you arrived, time unfroze."
"When you decided to stay, the sink hole appeared and you uncovered the mines."
"When you helped Ashley and her baby…Thomas woke up."
"Thomas?"
"Her prince."
"And last night," Snow reached out and brushed one of Emma's long blonde locks off her shoulder, "the animals led us to the dwarfs' cottage…all because of you, sweet girl."
An image of Henry flashed before Emma's eyes, just after she'd rescued him from the sink-hole. "Things are changing," he'd said with that crafty grin of his as they'd listened to the sounds of crickets chirping sweetly, returning to Storybrooke. She opened her eyes and looked at Snow…and then James…and then took a deep breath. "Ok," she said, turning toward the hatter. "Let's do this."
…
Kathryn Nolan couldn't make heads or tails of anything. Why the hell was David's car just sitting behind Mr. Gold's shop with no signs of a struggle? Why hadn't Regina told her immediately of these rumors about him and Mary Margaret Blanchard? Better yet, why hadn't she heard about these rumors? Wasn't the wife usually clued into these kinds of things a bit sooner than the mayor? And if they were having an affair, why in God's name would Regina have also heard she and David were planning on starting a fucking family! And oh…by the way…where the hell was the sheriff?
By noon, it felt like her head was about to split in two. After leaving City Hall, she'd wandered around Storybrooke a bit more, searching the square, the corner market, Granny's. She'd even driven out to West End to see if the notorious Garcon's was some meeting place of theirs, but when she'd peeked in the window, all she saw was what looked to be Mitchell Herman's son comforting a young woman. The pain and strife stricken across her face made Kathryn wonder if this woman going through the same hell that she was, and it so infuriated her that she marched straight back to her car, drove back to the town square and skidded into the parking lot of Storybrooke Elementary. In truth the possibility of an affair did nothing to explain why David's car was parked at the pawn shop. But that didn't matter right now. Not when she'd finally summoned the courage to confront the little home-wrecker at her place of work, to humiliate her the way she'd humiliated herself this morning in front of the mayor.
This thirst for vengeance, the bitterness filling her heart made her tremble, and even when she shut off the gas and undid her seat belt, a terrible feeling gnawed at her gut – a warning, she felt, that this was not the way to handle it. For several minutes she sat in her parked car, wondering if maybe Regina had been mistaken. If something had just gone terribly wrong and David was out there in some real trouble.
But no…No, for some reason, the idea of betrayal…it felt…more familiar to her. And that was terrifying. Why did the idea of David and Mary Margaret together make so much sense? Why was it so easy to believe? And why did she feel like going into that school would confirm all of her fears and change her life forever? At this point, there was only one way to find out, and the fear of not knowing soon overpowered the fear of what she might discover. With a heavy sigh, she summoned up the courage and walked into the school.
The school bell rang just as she pushed through the heavy double doors, and the rivers of kids eddying around her left her quite disoriented in her already agitated state. Feeling claustrophobic, she ducked into the front office and stumbled up to the desk.
"Can I help you?" came a little voice from behind the counter. Kathryn looked up at the tiny woman seated behind a small workstation, her fingers working deftly over a computer keyboard.
"Um, ex-excuse me?" her eyes darted around the office. Something felt very strange in this place. Why did she suddenly feel dizzy?
"Can I help you, dearie?" the secretary asked again, her tone decidedly annoyed.
"Y-yes, sorry. I'm looking for um…Mary Margaret Blanchard?"
"She's not here," came a voice behind her. She turned…and her heart stopped. A man in dark blue hoody and windbreaker pants stood in the office entrance, a duffle bag thrown casually over his shoulder and a binder tucked under his arm. He was a little taller than her, but not by much, and his brown hair was loose and swept back on his head, a few stray strands hanging down in front of his eyes. "Ma'am?" he asked tentatively. "You all right?"
Kathryn blinked, paralyzed to the spot for some reason. But she somehow managed to croak out a reply. "I um…" she stammered, recovering from her stupor and finally registering what the man had told her. "She's not here?"
Rick Shields drew a deep breath. He'd had his share of odd moments, odd days. But none as strange as the way this day was turning out (After Henry Mills had freaked out and run off, he'd started to think…and try as he might, he couldn't remember a single day of school that Mary Margaret Blanchard had ever missed. He'd certainly never been asked to sub for her. In fact, as he'd sat in the lounge pondering even further, he hadn't subbed for anyone since…well, for as long as he could remember). But those oddities paled in comparison to the woman standing before him now…this beautiful, tortured soul who, like Henry, seemed deeply distressed to find Mary Margaret absent. "No I uh, I subbed for her this morning and—"
"You need to sign in and get a visitor's pass if yer gonna stay, sweetheart," said the pithy little secretary. Kathryn wasn't listening. She wasn't here. Mary Margaret's not here and David is missing!…oh my God…
Rick eyed her carefully. Something definitely wasn't right. The woman didn't even seem to have heard the secretary. "Relax Bethany," he told the old bat, deciding he could at least take care of the paperwork. He took a pen attached to a chain on the counter and slid the sign-in clipboard in front of him. "What's your name?" he turned to ask her and blinked in shock as she was already backing toward the door.
"What?" Kathryn shook her head, "Oh…no, I'm not staying—"
Confused, he set the pen back down. "Are you ok? You look a bit—"
"No no…I can't…" she spluttered and spilled back into the hallway. "I'm sorry I have to…" but she didn't bother finishing the sentence. She spun on her heel and fled right back out the door. She's not here, Kathryn kept thinking. She's not here and David is missing…what did that mean? Had they run off together? Were they shacked up somewhere and something happened? A dozen possibilities hurried through her head as she practically fled to her car. She was so panicked, so off-kilter that she didn't even hear the slapping of sneakers running up behind her.
"Scuse me, ma'am?" that same voice startled her again, just as she reached her car. She froze right as she grasped the handle. "Hey," he said, jogging up to her. For some reason she couldn't bring herself to turn. She couldn't look at him. Why couldn't she look at him? "Are you sure you're ok?" His hand touched her shoulder, but she flinched it away.
"P-please," she stuttered without turning around. "Please leave me alone."
"Can't do that, ma'am," Rick said with a thoughtful chuckle.
Kathryn remained stuck to the spot, wiping a tear from her cheek. "Oh yeah why is that?" she sniffled.
"I just…hate to see a pretty girl cry."
She gasped…and a chill scattered through her. I hate to see a pretty girl cry…the words were like lyrics to an old song she'd forgotten long ago. She gulped and scrunched up the material of her blouse at her stomach. Slowly, she turned around.
When she turned, Rick's mouth fell open. What was so familiar about this woman? Why had he felt compelled to follow a complete stranger to the parking lot? She wasn't looking at him; he couldn't see into her eyes, but everything else about her made him shiver with anticipation. She was lovely; even as distressed as she seemed, she was lovely. "Sorry you just…" he ran his hand through his hair and scratched the back of his head, "you seemed so shaken in there and I figured—"
"No…thank you, I…" she said, tucking her hair behind her ear, her eyes darting around in all directions but his. She couldn't look at him. Why couldn't she look at him?
Rick's pulse started racing, but he had no clue why. He bent his knees a bit, trying to level his gaze with hers, but for some reason, she would Not. Look. Up. Impulsively, he reached for her, his hand acting almost on its own accord as he slipped it underneath her palm, her fingertips smooth as silk on his wrist. He swallowed hard, knowing of course that he was way over-stepping here, but for some reason…he wanted her – needed her to Look. Up.
Finally, Kathryn lifted her gaze to his…and terror flooded her soul. Those eyes. Those hazel eyes boring into hers: tender…caring…not understanding but…wanting to. She couldn't bear it. She couldn't stand the ache, the pain sinking into her gut. What was wrong with her? Why did this stranger fill her with dread? With guilt and yet…such… yearning? Becoming a person she wholly didn't know, she closed her fingers around his wrist and yanked him forward, catching him by the shoulder as he stumbled into her. And she kissed him.
Rick's eyes sprang open as they made contact. What in the world?…It was the single most bewildering moment of his life, her touch rendering him as still as a statue. The lost-little-lamb veneer she'd been projecting was in direct contrast to the sudden ferocity with which she attacked him. Logic screamed for him to shove her away. (I mean, come on…who in their right mind kisses a complete stranger?) But as her lips slid across his, feeling, tasting…claiming him…he found he didn't want her to stop. Soon, he slid his eyes shut, parting his lips and inviting her to go deeper as he skimmed his hand over her hip and around her back. He knew they were bound to spring apart, asking themselves what the hell they were doing…but as he fastened his mouth more securely over hers, claiming her as she did him, he suddenly wanted to delay that moment as long as possible.
Kathryn felt his fingers inching around to the small of her back, and she gasped as he firmed his grip and pulled her into him, his tongue slipping inside her mouth as her lips parted open. What the hell was she doing? What the hell was he doing? And why weren't they stopping? Two complete strangers kissing each other in an elementary school parking lot? It was a feature in Sidney's gossip column waiting to happen. And yet all she felt at this moment, wrapped in this strange but achingly familiar embrace, was that he still wasn't close enough. Breathless and desperate for more, she slid her hand from his shoulder around his neck and pulled him down, causing his arm to tighten around her waist as the two fell back against her car door. Their eyes fluttered open on impact and she caught his gaze…their eyes locked, and suddenly, the world flashed white and hot—
"I wanted to get my hands on you before your father rips you to shreds."
"How did you know I was going—"
"Because I have ears in the king's court…I came here to help you escape."
"Why would you do anything to help me?"
"Because I don't want to marry you either"…
"David!" she cried, pushing the man away, her breaths wet and ragged.
"Wh-what?" Rick panted, staggering backwards, "What the heck was—"
"I'm sorry," Kathryn muttered, holding her forehead in her hand. "I'm sorry, I don't what I was—" she looked up again at his face and the world flashed again—
"I don't understand, what do you mean the wedding is off?"
"Please don't ask me to explain! I-I can't—I just know you'll be better off if—"
"If I bow out and you marry that prince after all? After everything we've been through?"
"The marriage w-will unite the k-kingdoms. I have t-to honor my duty to my father—"
"Your father blessed this union, Abby. He promised me your hand the day he knighted me—"
"Things have changed since you've been cursed, Frederick. It's all just…please believe me…it's-it's safer this way"…
"Hey!" Rick was shouting now, grasping her by the arm as she continued to stumble and writhe about, her hand clenched tightly across her forehead. "Hey, come on talk to me, what's going on?" he pleaded, crouching beside her as she sank down to the pavement. She was blocking him purposefully now, both hands in front of her face though he could still tell she was sobbing. And though his mind kept trying to convince him this woman was batshit-crazy, he somehow felt it was his job – his duty to help her. "Ma'am please," he begged her, his lips still swollen with the memory of her touch. He reached out and grasped her wrists, pulling her hands from her face.
Kathryn looked up—
"Are you all right, your Highness?"
"Please…please leave me alone."
"Can't do that milady."
"Really, and why is that?"
"Because I can't stand to see a pretty girl cry"…
Kathryn cried out and turned her head away. Why did she keep seeing these strange flashes? How could she make them stop? She couldn't look at him…she just…couldn't look at him. The pain – the guilt. Why when she looked into his eyes did she feel such guilt? Hastily, she pushed herself off the ground and turned into her car. "I'm sorry," she stammered into the window, knowing the apology wasn't nearly enough to cover or explain her behavior. "I'm sorry I just…I have to go."
With hands trembling, she tugged on the door handle, twisted herself inside, slammed the car into drive and sped out of the parking lot, leaving a poor and confused Rick Shields alone in the dust.
…
"This is never gonna work," Emma muttered as her hands toyed clumsily with the felt fabrics.
"Yes it will," replied Snow, "stop saying that."
"No, I mean—" she pointed with the scissors at the model she was attempting to copy— "I have no idea how to make a hat."
Snow looked to one of Jefferson's many attempts and snorted. "You're doing fine," she laid her hand on Emma's arm and smiled. "Just concentrate…and remember, if there's one thing that's true about any kind of magic – if you don't believe it'll work, it's not going to."
Emma nodded, glancing up at the two men positioned at the far ends of the room. Jefferson was pacing back and forth in front of the fire place, his palms pressed together as if engaged in some sort of prayer, while James had his arms crossed, leaning against the balustrade, watching the hatter sentinel-like from afar. Emma looked back at her work, unnerved by the many pairs of eyes that had been watching her for the past hour. She was actually amazed that what she'd constructed already in any way resembled a hat. The craftsmanship was certainly shoddy (the social workers of her past would never have described her as a girl who thrived in the creative arts) but it definitely looked like a hat. She had only the ribbon trim to finish…and she knew she had the woman beside her to thank for the strength to complete it.
"Snow?" she cleared her throat, glancing over peripherally.
Snow turned. "Hmm?"
Emma took a deep breath, finally summoning the courage to say what she'd wanted to say since the hatter had unlocked that door. "I'm…so sorry…" she rasped, "for all the things I said—"
"Don't," Snow squeezed her wrist, dismissing her at once.
"No, really. I should never've—"
"Emma," Snow leveled with her. "There's nothing you need to apologize for." She glanced up at James, whose attention had shifted toward their conversation. He nodded in agreement though he didn't interrupt. His wife had this one covered. "So much has been asked of you," she continued, fisting a few pieces of felt in front of them. "With all you've had to accept in the past 24 hours, I'm amazed there's enough of your brain left to process it," she chuckled.
Emma laughed a little too, grateful for her mother's generous reprieve. But even so, she couldn't shake the bitter aftertaste of the accusations she'd leveled so viciously. "Still…I shouldn't've said—"
"Emma please," Snow stopped her again and shook her head. "I mean it. The burden you've been asked to bear," she sucked in a breath, "it's…almost unfathomable. So much more so than your father or I could've ever—" she paused, her voice breaking a bit. James was shaking his head, willing her to stop punishing herself. She nodded, and looked back to Emma. "You have nothing to be sorry for," she finished softly, patting her daughter's hand.
Emma was not oblivious to her parents' wordless exchange. One glance at each of them confirmed they were as one on this issue. Pausing her work, she looked over to Snow. "Neither do you, you know," she said.
Snow started, "What?"
"You have nothing to be sorry for." Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed James unfolding his arms, straightening up as he listened. Emma glanced between the two, but kept her gaze focused mostly on her mother. "I…didn't have the best life, but at least I had one."
Snow's eyes started to burn, prickling with tears. Everything that was implied by the statement – the acknowledgment of their sacrifice, Emma's acceptance of her fate and identity, the recognition of her parents having indeed given her…her best chance – the effect was so overwhelming, she was almost glad that the hatter chose that particular moment to clear his throat obnoxiously loud.
"I don't mean to interrupt this tender family moment," he snarled, "but could you please finish my hat before you two start blubbering all over the place?"
"Shut up, Jefferson," James scowled. "She's almost done."
Emma looked up gratefully and then concluded her work, fastening a thick white ribbon around the base. She held it out in front of her, frowning at the rather sloppy seam work (she was fairly certain that true hatters would never have used so much glue), but it was done. And just as she was about to hand it over, Jefferson swooped down and snatched it out of her hands.
"Finally," he growled. The women stood and came around the table. James too moved more toward the center of the room as Jefferson held the hat carefully, almost reverently before him. He stretched it a full arm's length toward the carpet, glancing to either side to ensure he had enough space. With a deep breath, he crouched down, touched the crown of the hat just barely to the floor and gave it a spin.
The top hat wobbled a bit as it made six successive revolutions on the floor, then slowed and tipped over with an anticlimactic plop. To an outside observer, the scene might have appeared almost obscenely hilarious – four grown adults crowded around this sorry looking hat waiting for something amazing to happen. But to Jefferson, there was nothing funny about it. He shrieked in frustration, glared at Emma, then reached forward and tried again.
Still, nothing happened. And after he'd tried it a third time, Jefferson seized it by the brim and flung it across the room, "No good! Make another one."
Emma caught the hat clumsily in her hands and then glared back. "Are you kidding? I had a hard enough time making this one!"
"You weren't concentrating enough," Jefferson seethed, reaching for the gun still holstered at his back. "Make it again!"
"Gimme a break!" Emma snapped, adjusting her grip so she held the hat by the brim like a frisbee. Lunatic, she thought, go back to Wonderland where you belong! And in her anger, she tossed the hat aside, sending it spiraling away from her and landing about where Jefferson had placed it before. As soon as the crown touched the carpet, a thunderous boom shook the whole house, and what happened next shocked them all.
The hat was still spinning, and not only that, it was picking up speed. Faster and faster it turned, raising itself a few inches off the ground. "Snow?" Emma glanced over, but Snow's gaze was as transfixed as the rest of them. The air in the room turned cold, whipping around them at such speeds that flecks of dust and light scraps from the work table were lifted into the air and started dancing before them. In seconds, the whole parlor felt like the inside of a meat locker and soon…the hat started to descend. Like an oil drill sinking into bedrock, Emma watched in astonishment as it lowered itself far beneath the actual floor of the room. But instead of breaking through the basement ceiling, a large funnel opened up around it, widening the hole like a puddle spreading across the floor as thick brown streaks of wind and debris came and revolved around its center. Further and further the hat descended as if it were the eye of a tornado they were watching from above. And soon, peaking through from the very base of the abyss, a whole new world appeared beneath them.
"It worked," Emma whispered, though she was completely inaudible amidst the chaotic winds.
The mad hatter's voice, however, rang through sharply, as he wrenched his horrified gaze up from the funnel and shouted, "You idiot!"
Emma, James and Snow all whirled on him, eyes bugging out of their sockets. "What?" Emma cried. He had to be kidding. The goddamned thing actually worked and he was…angry about it?
"Idiot!" he cried again, yanking at the ends of his hair. "You were thinking about Wonderland weren't you? Weren't you?" He stalked over to her, careful not to let his shoe slip into the abyss that was still expanding from the center.
"What are you talking about?"
"Wonderland! You were thinking about Wonderland! You fool!"
"Hey!" James was suddenly beside her, holding out his hand and pushing him back. "She did exactly what you asked her to do!"
"I said I needed to go home. Home to the forest! To my cabin!" he pointed down, distressed and panicky as they beheld the vague image of a large maze of hedges, at the center of which stood an empty throne. "Does that look like a cabin to you?" The image rippled before them, shifting as if someone had disturbed the surface of a pond and a new room came into view. A room filled…with thousands of hats. "Noooooo!" Jefferson cried, shrinking back from the place. "Make it stop, now! Make it go away!"
Emma looked worriedly between Snow and James, shaking her head, her mouth struggling to form words. "I-I can't!" she cried.
"You have to!" Jefferson gripped her arms and pulled her up to the edge. "You have to! Two go in, two come out – that's the rule!"
"What?" Snow cried, coming up behind her daughter.
"Two go in! Two must come out! If I go in there by myself again I'll be right back where I started!"
"What is he talking about?" Emma shouted to James. But the prince was as much at a loss as the rest of them.
Meanwhile the portal kept growing, edging its way along the carpet, giving them all far fewer places to step. Jefferson clenched his fists, exasperated. "Wonderland has rules," he explained as if he were talking to a disobedient child. "I entered that world with Regina and she left me there for eternity! If I go back now without someone to leave with, I—" the hatter paused…and in his eyes, malevolence replaced his fear. Before Emma had time to react, the hatter tightened his grip on her jacket and yanked her to the very edge of the spiral. "Looks like I'll be taking you with me, your Highness!" he yelled, and without warning, jumped down into the funnel, knocking Emma off balance and sending her with him.
"No!" James cried, leaping forward as Emma fell beneath floor level. And just as she was about to sink out of reach, James clasped his hand around her arm and closed his fingers tightly around her elbow.
"James!" Emma cried, yelping at the pain as his grasp wrenched her arm back.
"I've got you! Gimme your other arm!"
Meanwhile, Jefferson – who saw the prince lunge for his daughter as he dragged her down – had clasped on to the ledge himself, knowing he'd have to fight to take Emma with him. Perhaps it was the fear of returning to Wonderland, perhaps it was just the breaking point of having waited for so many years only to be ripped out of one prison and cast into another one, but Jefferson had lost all objectivity. If he was going in, he'd make damn sure he could get out!
His left hand gripped what was left of the floor – the portal had opened up all the way back to the white work table – and with his right arm he started pawing at Emma, trying to knock her out of her father's grip.
"Gerrrrrrrrroff!" Emma struggled, using her free arm to swat him away, trying to land one good punch. But with the way she was hanging, she couldn't get any force or power behind her fist, and with every attempt she felt herself slip further and further out of James's grip.
"Give it up, princess! You're comin' with me!"
"The hell she is!" came Snow's voice, and to the hatter's utter surprise, Snow slid down to the funnel's edge and kicked him squarely in the face. Jefferson reeled back from the blow, spitting out blood as a few of his teeth joined in the debris spiraling downward. His grip on the floor remained though, and he swung back when Snow wound up for another kick. He was ready this time, caught her ankle in his hand and twisted – hard. Snow cried out, and Jefferson grinned as he heard the bone crack. In the end though, he'd sacrificed force for balance, and as he struggled to readjust his grasp, Snow's right hook delivered the final blow, and he flew off the edge into the abyss.
Emma watched in horror as the mad man got sucked down into the portal, and as soon as it consumed him, she saw the bill of the hat again, picking up speed and ascending up toward the floor. It was closing…the funnel was closing! "James!" she cried, suddenly aware of what little time she had to get out.
Her father, however was way ahead of her and, with one laborious tug, pulled her out of the abyss and up onto the carpet just as the portal sealed...the hat lay dormant in the middle of the floor.
The room was silent for several minutes, save for the panting of the three who remained. Snow was braced up against the table leg, hissing as she massaged her ankle, while James and Emma were tangled together in an exhausted heap next to the fireplace. The hatter…was gone.
"You…all right?" James asked between breaths, pushing himself up to a sitting position against the stone base of the fireplace, his other arm still wrapped vise-like around his daughter's.
Emma had crumpled face down to the carpet and groaned as she pushed herself up. She pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead and wiped away a bead of sweat trickling from her brow.
"Hey," James said quieter, tugging lightly on her arm. "You ok?"
Emma finally looked up, staring at their arms still clasped together. She looked at the hat, then back at her father…and then fell exhausted against his chest. James barely had time to shift as his daughter collapsed into the hug, but his arms came around her instantly, his hand reaching up to cradle the back of her head. "Thank you," she whispered, still catching her breath.
James didn't trust himself to speak. He merely held her…his beautiful girl – safe at last. Eventually, he worked up the courage to glance at Snow over Emma's shoulder, and smiled through bleary eyes as his wife beamed at them both.
…
Emma was amazed as they stepped across the front threshold of the mansion and into the cold, yet sunny afternoon air because everything… looked exactly the same. And though this was to be expected, so much had happened and had been revealed inside that she now felt like a completely different person. Surely there should be some cosmetic change in the world to match. Something betraying the queen's artful fabrication – some sign that the town was a deception, a mask covering her parents' true home. But the tree line, the landscaping along the driveway, Jefferson's car parked outside the garage – it was all just as they'd left it hours ago, and she couldn't help the sinking feeling she had in the pit of her stomach. Dread, she supposed, at having to return to town and pretend, at least publically, that none of it had happened. She glanced back at James who was carrying Snow behind her, the injury to her ankle too severe to walk on.
"We're gonna have to come up with some sort of cover for all this," she said as James and Snow joined her under the awning. "I'm sure the whole town is wondering where we all are right about now." James set his wife down on her one good leg, though still shouldering most of her weight as she kept the strained one elevated.
"We'll think of something," James said, looking around. "We've gotta get out of here first."
"Well how did you get here in the first place?" Snow asked.
James looked down and grinned, "Cain."
Her eyes widened. "Cain? He's alive?"
"Came as soon as I whistled."
"Well?" Emma said, tapping her foot, the top hat tucked securely underneath her arm. "What're you waiting for? Whistle again."
"I don't know that he can carry all three of us with Snow's ankle this way," he replied, darting his gaze around the premises, looking for other options. "I'd rather you had something a bit more stable," he added to Snow as she eased away from him to lean on one of the stone pillars holding up the awning. "Wait here," he said to both of them, and started over to the garage.
Snow nodded and watched him go while Emma stepped back toward her mother, taking the hat out from under her arm. "You think we'll…see him again?" she asked quietly, almost unaware that she'd wondered it aloud.
"When it's time," Snow replied, touching her daughter's shoulder. She turned to face her. "Don't blame yourself for this, Emma."
"He was just trying to get home—"
"There's no way you could've known what would happen."
"He has a daughter here. He was just trying—"
"And he'll see her again…we'll make sure of it," Snow assured her. "Look," she continued, "Jefferson was…impatient and impulsive…and who knows if we would've been able to get you out of Wonderland?"
Emma flipped the hat over itself a few times, though extremely careful not to let it fall again. "I think I'm gonna have to read Henry's version of this story. Did you get what he was saying? 'Two go in – Two come out'?"
Snow shuddered, "The only thing I understood clearly was the part about Regina." She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. "That woman leaves nothing but destruction and misery wherever she goes."
"Yeah well…we're gonna fix that," Emma said, suddenly very sure of herself. Of her new role. She had a lot to learn, it was true. But she'd just made a friggin' top hat open a portal to another dimension. If there was one thing she felt a bit better prepared for now…it was kicking Regina's ass.
"Don't suppose Jefferson thought to toss us his keys before he tried to drag you into hell?" said James, climbing back up the small hill from the garage. "I mean, his car's here, but we've got no way to start it."
Snow sighed while Emma shook her head. "Well, call for Cain," Snow told them, bending over to rub her ankle. She winced in pain as her fingers closed over swollen flesh. "Take Emma to town and then come back here for me."
"Are you kidding?" James and Emma shouted together. But neither had time to elaborate, for at that moment, a horse whinnied in the distance.
Snow gasped, looking up. "Is that him? Did you call him already?"
James shrugged. "No, but it sure sounds like him."
The three of them looked toward the horizon and heard it again – the loud, boisterous neighing of James's stallion…followed by a car motor. James and Emma glanced at each other, about to gear up for another conflict, when the faint outline of Cain crested over the hill…carrying Henry and Marco on his back. "Henry!" Emma cried, waving at her son. She couldn't believe how good it was to see him. But the surprises didn't end there, for bringing up the rear of this tiny rescue caravan…was Archie Hopper in his old jalopy.
"Emma!" Henry yelled back, breaking into a grin so wide his face hurt for hours afterward. For there they were: Emma, Snow and Pops. The icing on the cake to this already glorious adventure! (Who knew Geppetto could ride a horse so well?) They trotted up the drive, and Henry slid with Geppetto's help from Cain's saddle to the pavement. Emma ran up to him, crouching down to his level instantly and ruffling his hair.
"You got great timing, Kid," she beamed.
Henry winked back at his two companions as if to say I told you so just as Archie – looking rather bewildered though no less glad to see them all – pulled his old clunker up beside Cain. "So," he said, crossing his arms and looking between Emma, Pops and Snow. "Who needs a ride?"
…
***So! Many many thanks and welcome to Fruitality, WWMTGirl and 1MIKITAFANFORLIFE! Thanks for all the great feedback, and as usual, MANY thanks to my regulars, quoththeraven5, silvercharm, JuliaAurelia and many many more!
This chapter is lovingly dedicated, with my gratitude, to The Pris and HaleyRenee. The Pris has written in several reviews that "once this is all over, Emma is gonna need a drink." I so enjoyed that bit, I had to put it in the chapter! And after Haley suggested that I use Cain again to help Henry find his family, the image was too 'charming' (tee hee) to resist.
Plenty more in store – stay tuned!***