Disclaimer: As you can probably tell from the fact I'm writing fanfiction, I don't own Once Upon a Time or any of its characters.
Annie wasn't scared of the dark, but her mother was. She didn't get why she should be; she'd never seen any of the monsters adults were always saying hid in it. She was pretty sure that adults made them up just so kids wouldn't leave their beds at night.
"Come on, Annie," Her mother said, tugging her along. Her voice wasn't as impatient as usual; there was actual worry to it.
Even so, Annie wanted to watch the snow fall, and in her new red hood it didn't even feel cold outside. It was getting darker so it'd be harder to see but they both knew the path between their village and the larger town they visited on market days well. She was sure they'd be able to find their way even in the dark.
"Annie!"
"I'm hurrying Mama!" She protested, even though she wasn't going much faster than normal.
Then her mother's grip slipped and the older woman crumpled over, wrapping her arms around herself as if that were the only thing holding her together.
"Mama!" Annie cried out, doubling back.
"Anita!" She froze at the growl under her mother's voice, the terror in her eyes. They seemed so big now with the fear in them, "You know the way; don't stray from the path! Go home and lock the door behind you!"
"Ma-"
"GO!"
Annie ran. She ran for as long as her lungs and legs could handle it, pausing only when she came to the fork in the road. There was the straight path, worn smooth by carriages and carts, and then there was the overgrown path that her and Mama sometimes took on nice days. She was going to take the short way… But then she heard the exhale of a very large beast not too far behind her. She bolted down the deer path and heard it try to pursue.
Branches tugged at her cloak as Annie wove deeper and deeper, firmly keeping her eyes on the path so she wouldn't get lost. She was getting scared now, and tears came as she imagined the beast going after her mother. But she was pretty sure she had lost it.
She stumbled back out into the open and fell to her knees. When she looked up she saw the beast standing just a few feet in front of her. It was a large wolf, with a pelt like an overcast sky and dark eyes. Eyes that seemed too familiar for comfort.
"…Mama?"
For a moment the only movement came from the falling snow drifting between them. Then the wolf stepped forward, its lips curling into a snarl. Annie sat, slowly raising her hand up towards it.
Warm breath washed over her fingers as the wolf snorted. The snarl faded, the eyes closed, and the wolf pressed its forehead against her palm.
It was Anita's first exposure to her future, and all she could feel was awe and wonder.
II
Ruby knew her regulars; yet, at the same time, she didn't. Of course there were people like Snow and Cinderella that she had been familiar with before, but there were so many faces that were curse exclusive, that she'd seen only through the tainted lens of a curse. And those stories she could've sworn she could rattle off if anyone ever cared to ask…were lies.
There were countless reintroductions and corrections, and she felt like the people she had been serving for twenty eight years were complete strangers. And in a lot of ways, she was a stranger to them too. Her sexuality was important to her, but that didn't mean wearing booty shorts during a New England fall.
Ruby was starting to shut down the diner despite the fact they were still technically open for five more minutes. She used to always have to wait until the actual closing time, because George would inevitably come in if she tried. She missed George; a stocky dark-haired man who had nearly always been her last customer of the night. Usually he just came for a cup of coffee, but occasionally he'd have a late dinner as well. Normally Ruby would've hated a last minute customer, but George had the air of a kicked puppy about him. Sometimes he had opened up about his job as assistant to Bianca Diablo, the third biggest name in Storybrooke behind Mayor Mills and Mr. Gold. Ruby absolutely loved her clothing lines but apparently she was a real pain in the neck to work for.
The door swung open as she finished clearing the till and Ruby caught sight of a familiar golf cap. She grinned, "Well hey there."
George glanced up from wiping his feet off and smiled, "Hey Ruby."
"Long time no see."
He shrugged, "Been busy. You still got a pot on?"
"Of course," Ruby assured him, turning to pour him a cup. He seated himself at the counter, rubbing his hands together briskly, "I was starting to get worried about you," she teased.
He gave a hoarse laugh, "I'm fine, I'm fine… Just been busy."
She set the mug in front of him, "So, your boss turn out to be an evil witch or something?"
He stared at her in shock for a moment, then shook his head, "Nah, just misunderstood."
"I hear that."
He sipped at his coffee, his eyes focused on the counter, "…she's my sister-in-law or…was. It's complicated." He glanced up, studying her as if he wasn't sure whether to continue. Ruby remained quiet and he took it as encouragement to keep going, "She was…cursed in our land, but here she was fine until magic returned. Then…it came back."
"I'm sorry to hear that," she murmured.
He took a long drink from his cup, avoiding Ruby's gaze, "There's help for at least part of the problem, though that means leaving Storybrooke."
"Is she willing to forget who she is, though? You cross the line and you lose your memories," she reminded him.
He glanced up, frowning slightly, "…you know I'm not sure," he confessed, "Sometimes it seems like…she actually likes her curse."
The door opened again, this time for a much taller, lankier man. His darker features and complexion instantly tipped her off to the fact that they were related.
"George, why did I send you in here?" George rolled his eyes and shifted on the stool. "Was it to grab a cup of coffee? Flirt with the waitress maybe?"
"It was to get help," he muttered.
"That's right, you git." The new arrival turned to her, smiling, "Ruby, right?"
She shrugged, "Red, Ruby, whatever."
"Nice to meet you." He leaned on the counter, "What my brother failed to mention is that we're having a bit of car trouble and were hoping you could help."
She laughed, "Just because I hang out with Billy it doesn't make me a car expert."
"We figured it was worth a shot," George inserted meekly, "We're just around back, and we really didn't want to take our chances asking someone from the Rabbit Hole."
Ruby glanced around, but she doubted anyone else would be stopping by. Anyway, Tony could keep an eye on things for a bit.
"I'll see what I can do," she offered and George smiled at her.
The brothers led her around back to where a van was parked, a decal boasting "Bianca Diablo Fashions" in a calligraphic font along the side. They slowed, eyeing each other.
"We played for it," George reminded him.
"Doesn't count, I had to go in anyway."
"Rematch."
Ruby watched their hands as they pumped up and down, playing Rock Paper Scissors so fast she could hardly tell who had won until the brother she didn't know was scowling. George shoved his hand back into his pockets.
"I'll stand watch then," he mumbled, turning his back to them and wandering to a point where he could keep an eye both on the alley and the diner.
Before she could panic about the need for a lookout, she was pulled into a choke hold dragged towards the van. She jerked around, clawing at his arm even though his jacket took most of the impact.
"I'm sorry," Jasper murmured. Ruby struggled for air, staring at Horace's back and fighting to understand the turn of events. She lasted until she was lifted into the van and then all went black.
IIII
Eleanor Lucas had been through plenty of experiences in her lifetime. No more than a child when her family was slaughtered in front of her and she was marked to be turned, she was soon married, then widowed while her own daughter grew inside of her. She had raised her child on her own with no help from her village, and had even survived her daughter finding out what she was…and finding out she had passed down the curse to her.
But nothing, nothing terrified her as much as seeing Anita head over heels.
"I just can't understand you," Anita insisted, leaning over the clothes line and lowering her voice, "If nothing else, how can you not be excited about the fact there's another one like us?"
"Because it's foolish to think we're the only ones," Eleanor muttered.
Anita pinned up another skirt, "But so close? He can't be much farther than a day's run."
"You don't know that for sure," she said dismissively, "He could be a wanderer."
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Anita grumbled.
Thankfully Eleanor didn't have to get into it with her this early in the day; the sound of hoofbeats and laughter caught their attention, as well as the attention of most of the small village. Two men were racing each other on their black steeds, trying to cut their competitor off without knocking their horses into each other. A third horse trailed behind in comparison, its riders laughing just as hard as their predecessors.
It was a couple, if the way the woman rested snugly against the man was any indication. Cradled in front of him, she seemed very content with her position. The man held the reins but seemed more occupied with trying to steal a kiss than steering the horse. Eleanor rolled her eyes, finishing up the laundry.
"They must be the new neighbors," Anita remarked, curiously watching as they slowed down in front of the cottage that had recently been finished.
The coupled man turned his head at one of the other men's questions, and she saw the other side of his hair was shockingly white. Eleanor's gut immediately clenched in foreboding.
Anita, on the other hand, felt no such reservations. The only reason she didn't go over at once was that she figured they were getting settled, but apparently she didn't have to go over at all. She was drawing up from the well when she was approached.
"Hello," The new woman greeted.
Anita smiled, "Hi. Welcome to town."
"Thank you, we're very happy to be here." She glanced around, "It's a bit warmer here than the steppes…"
"Not by a lot from what I hear," she set her bucket down, "Then again I've never been that far north."
"You're not missing much."
She offered her hand, "I'm Anita, Anita Lucas."
The other woman smiled and eagerly returned the gesture, "Cruella De- Hunter," she corrected herself, her smile widening, "But they just call me Ella." She turned and Anita saw the three men moving around the outside of the cabin, appearing to be debating something, "The one with the skunk hair is my husband, Radcliffe, and those are his brothers, Jasper and Horace."
Without warning Radcliffe jumped up and grasped onto the edge of the roof, his siblings exclaiming and shouting at him to come down. Radcliffe only laughed, swinging back and forth as the beams kept.
Anita laughed, "Seems like quite a handful, three men to yourself."
"Oh it is, but someone has to keep them in line," Cruella shook her head, "I've never seen siblings so close, and I grew up with four brothers. Thicker than blood, that trio."
"Must be nice," Anita mused, "It's just been me and my mother for as long as I can remember."
"How tragic." Cruella reached out and lightly touched her arm, "Well darling, I just wanted to make your acquaintance; you simply must come over for dinner once we've got everything in order."
"I will," Anita assured her and Cruella beamed before rushing off towards the men. Anita watched in amusement as Cruella came up behind her husband, grasping him by the belt loops and yanking him down. He stumbled but she kept him steady and right there, in front of anyone who cared to see, they shared a passionate kiss that made Horace and Jasper turn away.
What Anita wouldn't give for a pack.
Eleanor braced herself, putting forth her formidable strength as she brought the axe down again. One, two, three swings and the wood was split. She sighed and cast the chunks aside before grabbing another log to set up. She happened to glance over as the wind shifted, bringing a scent that made her lip curl. A young man stood not far away, tall and waifish with hair that wasn't sure whether it wanted to be blonde or brunette.
Their eyes met and she knew what about the smell had bothered her. She could also tell from the purpose in his walk that he knew about her as well. She held the axe, both hands securely on the handle as she headed in his direction.
"And what the hell do you want?" She asked, frowning.
The man bowed his head, "Nothing… I mean, not nothing, but it's not anything to be concerned about. I just…" He shifted his weight and met Eleanor's eye, "The other one that was with you… I wanted to see her again, introduce myself properly."
"I think you should just keep walking, boy," she growled.
"I would like to meet her, please."
"And I'd like you to get."
"Mother."
They both turned to see Anita returning, glancing between the two of them. Then she caught the man's scent…and she beamed.
Eleanor was too late. Her daughter was a goner for some pup she didn't even know the name of.
III
It wasn't unusual during the curse for Ruby to miss a morning shift, but she'd been pretty good about getting up on time ever since the curse broke. And, besides that, Granny was sick to her stomach; not in a flu way either.
Ruby hadn't been picking up her phone. The scent in her room was stale so she hadn't come home last night. Granny had even gone through her own contacts and called the ones that could have possibly seen her. So far no one had, and tonight was the first full moon since magic had returned. All in all, not a good situation.
"She closed yesterday, didn't she?" She interrogated Tony.
Tony nodded, "Her and I." Granny grimaced and turned to check her phone again when Tony added, "She did step out to help a couple of guys at the end of the night that were having car trouble… George and his brother."
Granny tried to recall the George Tony would be talking about, "The coffee guy?"
"Yeah, the one that worked for the fashion lady, Whats-her-name Diablo," he shrugged, "Didn't see anybody when I left so she must've helped them out… I figured she just went home."
Granny wasn't sure her stomach could sink any lower. Regina hadn't been too creative with naming, and she already knew of one devil woman. If George was one of hers…
She needed information. Unfortunately no one who'd know about Bianca Diablo's real identity was someone she wanted to meddle with. But if Ruby had disappeared and her hunch was right…
Granny shook her head as she stormed out of the diner, down the street towards the one place she had avoided going to in all these cursed years; Mr. Gold's shop.
Across town, Ruby was just starting to come to, the sharp notes of a piano cutting through her blackout. She squinted as her eyes opened, the room as bright as a hospital but with neutral grays and designs pinned to corkboards. Racks surrounded her, displaying furs of all different shades and textures and patterns. Humming joined the piano solo and she turned her attention towards the drawing table.
A woman was perched on a stool, her pen scratching against the paper as she feverishly sketched, unaware of her audience until she was interrupted by a growl. A Dalmatian that had been napping at her feet stirred, its eyes locking on Ruby. The woman reached down to scratch behind her ears.
"What is it, Perdy? Is she up? Is our little pup awake after her night in the cage?" She cooed.
Ruby glanced around; funny how she hadn't registered the bars until they were mentioned. The cage was just tall enough for her to stand up in and wide enough to pace around in. She reached out to grasp the bars. Steel, and she couldn't make out what kind of lock it was on the door.
"At first you think that I am the devil, but after time has worn away the shock," she crooned to the dog, getting up from her stool, "You come to realize, you've seen my kind of eyes, watching you from underneath a rock."
Her icy gaze turned to Ruby as she sashayed towards the cage in perfect time with the instrumental background, hamming it up to her aggravated audience, "This vampire bat, this inhuman beast, I oughta be locked up and never released. The world was such a wholesome place until," she cocked her head to the side and pouted, "Cruella, Cruella De Ville."
As if the hair wasn't enough of a giveaway.
Cruella glared off to her side, "I'll sing what I like, Radcliffe; it's not like there's anything you could do about it. I'm hardly Mother Theresa, anyway."
Ruby slowly got to her feet as she spoke to thin air, remembering George talking about her being locked up in the psych ward. If he worked for her, did that make him Jasper or Horace? Did it really matter who was who at this point? She needed to get out of here.
"You are the spitting image of her, you know." Ruby realized that Cruella's attention had turned back to her, examining her thoughtfully, "Not the eyes, though... And your features are softer, more like your grandmother's."
Ruby tensed up, "How do you know my family?"
Cruella cackled, "Oh darling… Of course she's never told you, has she?" She leaned forward, "I'm your godmother."
Godmother… Considering that Granny hadn't even told her the truth about her own mother, it wasn't that shocking she failed to mention a godmother. But if what she was saying was the truth…why was she caged?
Cruella picked up on her confusion, "Unfortunately you're paying for the sins of your mother. You see, she wronged me a long time ago, but she died before I could pursue my vengeance. So you'll have to take her place."
Ruby glanced back at the furs, the absurdity of the situation almost laughable, "And now you're going to turn me into a coat."
She laughed, tossing her head back, "Of course not!" She insisted, smiling wickedly at her, "I already made one out of your father, and I don't believe in redundancy."
IIII
She felt as though a lifelong curse had been lifted from her existence. For so many years it had just been the two of them, her and her mother… And then in one day the Hunters had moved in and Roger had tracked her down. Anita was finally getting the pack she always longed for, the one her mother had denied them because of "suspicion". Because apparently not standing out was a better survival strategy than having a large enough group to defend themselves against threats.
The Hunters were fur traders, tracking and trapping around the area. They'd return with game more often than not; animals ranging from the typical to the fantastical, some Anita couldn't even name. Before Cruella she could have only imagined what a basilisk looked like up close or the best way to prepare griffin meat.
Even when they were home, Cruella and Radcliffe hunted. Sometimes they'd go off just the two of them, but mostly Cruella tagged along with Anita whenever she needed to replenish their meat.
"I can feel your smugness from here, Ella." Anita grumbled as she went to retrieve her arrow, deeply rooted in the bark of an oak.
"I'm not being smug, darling… I'm just appreciating the fact that you are determined to hunt with a bow."
"What else am I supposed to use, a spear?"
"If it suits your strengths better."
Anita turned around to see Cruella straightening from her position against the tree looking, despite her protests, smug. The retort that she hunted best with fangs and claws was on the tip of her tongue but she held it back, just like she had done every time before. She wished she could tell Ella about the wolf within her, about all of the wonderful sensations she experienced. But she knew better than to expose herself…even to her best friend.
If it had been a full moon night she would have killed that hawk before it knew enough to take wing.
She followed Cruella as the other woman traced the usual path, checking snares as they came upon them. Anita had never seen her hunt hunt before; it was always traps with her.
"You really think they get that big?"
Anita glanced at her, "Think what do?"
"The cursed during wolvestime. You really think the wolves get as big as your mother says?"
"Hell if I know; I've never gotten that close to one," she lied, hearing a scuffling coming from the next trap, "What brought this up?"
"Nothing; my mind was just wandering. Woods, hunting, wolves…" She bent down over the catch, laughing softly, "It's terrified; you should see the way its sides are heaving."
Cruella held the hare up for Anita to see, the poor thing kicking in a desperate attempt to escape. Maybe she should have felt sorry for it, but all she could hear was the wolf in her head longing for the chase, the kill.
"He'll make a handsome pair of gloves, don't you think?" She asked, holding the rabbit by her hand as if to measure.
Anita was surprised when her laugh came out nervous, "He'd look better on me, don't you think?"
Cruella considered, eyeing Anita, "I suppose you're right… But I do want a new pair of gloves soon." She snapped the hare's neck and tossed it into her game bag.
Anita had never been squeamish but there was something about the conversation leading up to and including the casual death of the hare that unnerved her. And as Cruella changed the topic to all the various sorts of gloves she'd like to have, Anita couldn't help but wonder how she'd feel if she knew the truth about her best friend.
She returned to the Hunters' cabin and enjoyed the usual antics that came from a kill being brought to Jasper and Horace's attention; Jasper shouting at her to take it outside with Horace refusing to look at it, Cruella skinning and gutting it in the sink anyway despite their disgust. She took up her usual post off to one side, just watching the chaos and occasionally adding in a snide remark.
Radcliffe came in mid-scene, easing past his brothers and tiptoeing behind Cruella. She squealed when he wrapped her up in a hug, twisting around to kiss him.
"I could've sworn you said you had two brothers, not sisters," she joked, looking past her husband to Jasper.
Jasper scowled at her, "Just because I don't care to watch that sort of thing it doesn't make me any less of a man."
"Doesn't make you more of a man either," Radcliffe retorted, though he was too preoccupied with Cruella to look away from her.
"Well society's view of what makes a man is shite," Jasper protested, Cruella giggling as she painted a streak of blood down the bridge of Radcliffe's nose, "He shouldn't have to kill something just to prove he's got boll- Quit it!"
Radcliffe had caught Cruella's finger between his teeth, grinning devilishly at her. Cruella was biting her lip a little too suggestively, pressing her body against his. They weren't paying a bit of attention to Jasper.
"Can't you two clean one goddamn rabbit without going at it like rabbits?!"
Horace plopped down beside Anita, ignoring the scene, "Roger coming over for dinner too?"
"No, he had something tonight," she said, "What about Sarah?"
His face went scarlet, "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I think you do," she teased, nudging him with her foot, "I've seen the way you two have been flirting."
"It's not flirting; we're just talking," he insisted, pretending to be caught up in the rest of the family's antics. Anita let it go...for now.
There was something effortless about the atmosphere in the Hunter household; the way everyone bonded together, teasing in a biteless way. It was what Anita hoped to have one day with Roger, laughter warming the home just as much as any fire. Turning simple things like passing the bread into a game as Jasper held the bowl over Radcliffe's head. Anita laughed until her sides were sore and, catching Ella's sparkling gaze, it was easy to forget whatever omniscience she had felt in the forest.
Cruella grabbed Anita's hand and squeezed it tightly. Anita smiled at her and, though not a word had been spoken, it seemed like a whole conversation had taken place with just a few simple gestures.
Across the village, Eleanor was having a considerably worse dinner with Roger. Because the stupid boy had gone and done it and now she was sitting there, trigger finger itchy and heart breaking.
Roger frowned at the elder Lucas's silence, "Please, Ms. Lucas, I need your approval. I can't ask Anita to marry me without your blessing."
She liked Roger, she did, and if anyone was going to marry Anita she was glad it was him. But that didn't make the idea of trusting someone else with her precious girl any easier.
III
Out of all the possible people to come through the shop's door, Mr. Gold wouldn't have thought in a thousand years he'd see her in here.
"Rumplestiltskin."
He glanced up from reviewing an ancient text speculating the connection between a siren and her body of water, thrown off kilter by the woman in front of him, "I know I haven't stepped outside in a few hours, but surely if the world was ending I would've noticed. That was the condition of you ever dealing with me again, wasn't it?"
"Save it," Granny snapped, approaching the counter, "I figure you of all people would know who Bianca Diablo is."
Mr. Gold arched an eyebrow, "You might have to jog my memory."
"Fashion designer, has an underling named George…" She took a deep breath, "And I'm pretty sure she's the one Glenn Close played in the live action."
He looked incredulously at her, "Cruella De Vil."
"I need to know if it's her and where she lives."
He shifted, moving over to his box of index cards, "I might have something on file… But what do you have to offer for it?"
"Same thing I offered for the cloak."
He glanced back at her, smiling coyly, "Ms. Lucas, I'm a married man now."
She pointed her finger at him with the same intent to kill as she had been known to train her crossbow, "Don't you get cheeky with me, you bastard. What I've got you're not going to be able to just pick up from the drug store when you run out."
It was a valid point. He thumbed through the various purchases, finally stopping on a mink coat, "You're in luck; if she hasn't changed her address you should be able to find her here."
She held out her hand, but Mr. Gold hesitated handing it over. She sighed, "Listen, if this is about your payment I can swing by tomorrow if I'm up to it; I don't know how this is going to go."
"I have no doubts about your punctuality," he assured her, "I'm merely curious as to the…sudden and intense interest. I can't see you coming in here for anything you could find out yourself unless time was of the essence."
"That's my business," she insisted. Mr. Gold shrugged before setting the information down in her palm.
Granny hesitated, staring down at the address, "…I think she's got Ruby," she confessed.
Mr. Gold frowned, "May god have mercy on her soul if she does."
The comment earned him a smirk and a shake of her head, "Cheeky bastard," she muttered and he smirked back at her before she marched back out the door.
Really though, he pitied whatever fool got between that force of nature and her pup.
III
The scent of veal filled the air and Ruby, chained to a dining room chair, had to admit it smelled amazing. She had been brought up not too long ago by Jasper and as she looked around for weapons or tools she couldn't help but notice how…vacant everything felt. As though she were in a museum rather than a house. An extremely nice house, but not really a home.
There was nothing close to her, and the chair was secured to the ground. The sliding glass door showed off an expansive back yard with a fence she could scale if she could just manage to slip out of her handcuffs and uncuff her shackles. Kicking to see if she could loosen the chair wasn't going to work either, not with both of the men in the next room.
"She's been arguing with him all evening."
Ruby cocked her head towards the kitchen as Jasper sighed at Horace's statement, "Well you know he wouldn't want her to do it; she's his goddaughter."
"What choice do we really have now, though? We've got what, her and Ms. Lucas? Those are our only options and the girl's the one she hardly knows."
"We can't let our brother stay trapped in whatever ghost limbo he's in."
"We're just one off and then he'll be at peace."
Only the sound of utensils and pans were audible for a few minutes. Then, Jasper stated firmly, "Hundred and one, then we're done."
A door slammed from upstairs and Ruby followed the movement down the staircase and hall. A snarl greeted her before it was softly rebuked, "Leave her alone, Perdy." The Dalmatian and her mistress passed her by, and Cruella pulled open the sliding glass door to let Perdita outside.
"So, you're going to feed me before you kill me?" Ruby deadpanned.
Cruella looked back at her with a smirk as she slid the door shut, "Even Judas got a last supper, darling." She sat at the other end of the table, brushing her hair back, "Not that I'm comparing you to Judas; you were simply born into the wrong family and killed the wrong woman."
"My mother."
"You catch on quickly."
The plates were brought out, and neither Horace nor Jasper met Ruby's gaze. A bottle of merlot was set by Cruella's glass and then they were slipping away as suddenly as they had appeared, retreating into another room. She wanted to hate them, especially Horace, but all Ruby could summon was pity. Apparently not all henchmen were willingly contracted.
They didn't touched their food, staring across the length of the table at each other. There was a layer of ice to the other woman's gaze but even with that barrier, Ruby sensed something beneath the surface. Like seeing a silhouette move behind frosted glass.
"You should eat," Cruella murmured, picking up her own fork, "You'll need your strength."
"I don't like turning on a full stomach," Ruby said.
Cruella raised an eyebrow, "I'd imagine it might be a little rough," she admitted, "Maybe I'm being selfish, not wanting you to tear me to shreds if you do get the upper…paw," she grinned. Ruby refused to even acknowledge the pun.
Cruella picked at her food, occasionally taking a bite. Ruby refused even though she was starving; she couldn't let her have any satisfaction she could possibly avoid giving. Eventually Cruella gave up her attempts at eating and poured herself a glass of the merlot. She tilted the bottle towards Ruby in offering, but Ruby only glowered. She set it back down.
"I held you once," she said softly, caressing the memory, "I could hardly believe how tiny you were…Fragile and defenseless, pure as untouched snow. I think you're the only infant I've ever held; never been around children much."
"Thank god," Ruby muttered.
She stared at her glass, not appearing to have heard her, "On my loneliest nights, I'd think about you. I'd figure out how old you were, tried to imagine who you'd be. You gave me hope, and your mother gave me purpose." She glanced up, "…why did you kill her?"
It wasn't an answer that took a lot of thought, "She went after my family."
"Good a reason as any," she sipped at the wine, "...this wasn't supposed to be you. This was supposed to be between me and your mother, the hundred and first, getting my peace by getting rid of the reason for my pain. I never- YOU SHUT THE HELL UP!"
Ruby jerked back as Cruella flew to her feet, backhanding the wine glass. It shattered against the floor, spraying its blood red contents in a macabre splash. But Cruella wasn't looking at her; she was screeching at something that wasn't there.
"YOU CAN'T TELL ME TO LET IT GO NOW! I HAVE COME TOO FAR TO WALK AWAY! ONE HUNDRED, RADCLIFFE, ONE HUNDRED PUPPIES! IT ENDS TONIGHT! OUR SUFFERING WILL END AND I DON'T CARE HOW SO LONG AS IT'S DONE!"
Horace's comment in the diner about his ex-sister-in-law being cursed returned to Ruby. She couldn't help but wonder what kind of affliction would make someone flip out like that. Then again, it wasn't like she was in any position to talk about the rationality of curses.
IIII
This should be the second happiest day of Eleanor's life, watching her daughter get married to the man she loved. But Eleanor couldn't get past the fact that even more werewolves were coming into the picture.
Roger seemed to have the same need Anita did to find as many like them as possible; there were only two others so far but they had practically run up to her to introduce themselves. Pups, all of them, and they were going to get themselves killed. Safety in numbers was outweighed by being more conspicuous; if they got too big they'd drag in some actual hunters instead of the village vigilantes with pitchforks.
And then…then there'd be trouble.
A trademark cackle followed someone collapsing into the seat next to Eleanor, and she noticed the maid of honor gasping for air. Cruella was the only girl Eleanor knew that would wear furs to a wedding, and it was that kind of eccentricity that was sort of endearing.
"I just had to take a break," she explained as though she had been prompted, fanning herself with her hand, "These small town festivities put anything at Enfer Hall to shame… Are you alright, Ms. Lucas?"
She wrinkled her nose, "Never been much for dancing."
"Come now, I'm sure you're marvelous," she insisted, giving her a small smile, "But what I really meant was about Anita moving. I can't even imagine this village without her, and Robert's place is hours away."
She wasn't sure if she refused to call Roger by his actual name on purpose or she really didn't care that much about him.
She was fine with quietly reflecting on the fact she'd be living alone but Cruella continued, "But we'll have each other; honestly you're like the mother I never had."
Thankfully at that point Radcliffe jogged over, "Mind if I steal her? Thanks." Before Eleanor could even open her mouth Radcliffe had pulled a laughing Cruella to her feet and was dragging her back into the fray for a lively dance.
Eleanor watched the festivities from afar; her daughter and her new husband, the best friend with her husband… Hell even Horace was chatting it up with that Sarah girl. She wished she could capture it, frame it on the wall, because she knew that happiness like this didn't last long.
Anita had to go outside to catch her breath, the ecstasy of the party making her heart race like a run through the forest. She was married to someone who understood who she was and how she felt…she had married her best friend. She breathed in the cool air and closed her eyes, tilting her head towards the stars.
But suddenly she wasn't alone. Someone's arms were around her waist, her head resting against a chest. And yet she knew exactly who it was.
"I never thought I'd be married," Roger murmured, swaying both of them from side to side, "When I found out about the wolf… I thought that was it. That I'd just have to live alone the rest of my life and dread wolvestime. But then, one night… I actually remembered something for once. Other wolves like me. And I had to find them…"
Anita's hand rested over his, "And now we have each other… And Jericho, and Channary… We'll have our own pack, and never have to feel alone."
He kissed her cheek and Anita felt safe.
Around the corner of the building, Jasper glanced at Radcliffe. Radcliffe continued taking a drag of his cigar, staring at the ground.
"What are we going to do?" Jasper whispered.
Radcliffe tapped the cigar, the ash crumbling off the edge of it, "This doesn't change things… We're still hunting the werewolves around here."
"Ella will be crushed," Jasper pointed out meekly, "Anita just told her she'll be the godmother of whatever children her and Roger have."
He shook his head, "We can't tell her, not unless it's absolutely necessary." Jasper nodded sharply.
Ella hadn't been born into their world; the Hunter clan was an extended family more secretive than a cult. When Radcliffe had returned from a trip up north with an energetic young woman holding on to him, Jasper and Horace were immediately just as smitten with her. She didn't feel the impending dread of knowing a death in the family could mean a transferred curse, or just how an increase in beasties could trigger the Hunter gene. Every day that he and Horace looked at each other and didn't see the divided hair color or unnatural blue eyes of the Hunter's Curse was a day they were grateful for. They had grown up watching their brother deal with the bloodlust… Had watched other Hunters be driven insane by the need to kill, or seeing phantoms that only appeared to them.
And then Ella willingly decided to join them, risking her life and sanity to marry their brother. She had brought a small flicker of light into their darkness, and the three of them were determined to shelter their little flame as much as they could.
II
Emma was getting really sick of walking. Not that she wasn't a fan of that method of transportation; it had served her well her entire life. But what she wouldn't give for her bug right now instead of either walking…
…or suddenly being transported miles and miles away. Belle had been nice enough to warn them, but she wasn't sure her stomach had come along. And even after that little display Belle had explained that they still needed to trek up the mountains to conserve…magical…energy…
She was still trying to wrap her head around normal magic, let alone Belle's special dark brand of it. And she wasn't making the mistake of asking her again how it worked.
After following a winding trail uphill for hours, the trees broke away and Emma caught sight of her second Enchanted Forest castle…which could hardly compare to her parent's. Surrounded by a brick wall with intricate iron gates, the towers seemed sharper and more menacing…not to mention taller and more numerous.
"Home sweet home," Belle said softly, staring at it. Snow went to rest her hand on her shoulder and Belle put her hand over hers, squeezing it. She then stepped forward, approaching the gates.
The metal creaked a protest but, without Belle even making a gesture, they opened for her.
The gardens were dead; bare trees and thorny bushes were the only proof that anything had ever grown there. The infrastructure had fared better than Mary Margaret's, but there were still chunks missing. Belle strode up the steps without glancing around, ignoring the large gashes in the front doors. They opened for her just as the gates had.
"We should be fine," Belle assured them as they followed her through the foyer, "It knows its mistress is here, so any remaining booby traps shouldn't go off."
"Shouldn't" wasn't as comforting as "won't".
"Did you expect to come back?" Mary Margaret asked, "I mean, why booby trap an abandoned castle?"
"We prepared for everything," Belle said, "Including keeping looters out in case we had to come home for some reason."
Even if the architecture had held, the interior clearly hadn't, and Emma wondered if looters hadn't come in after all. Cabinet doors flung open, furniture on its side, papers and trinkets strewn all over the floor…
"Belle?"
Emma turned to see Mary Margaret watching Mrs. Gold, who was staring at a table that had been snapped in half. She rested her hand on the wood and closed her eyes, and for a moment Emma thought she was going to cry. But her eyes opened again and she was back to her no-nonsense mindset.
"We need to get to the alchemy tower," she said, "See what we can work with."
"Maybe we should see who's in here first?" Mary Margaret suggested, crouching down beside the fireplace, "If this was all damage from the curse this ash would be scattered… And the wood looks fresh."
Belle turned towards the windows. As thick as the panes were they had shattered, "The traps may not have lasted after we left… Someone might have snuck in."
"We should make sure," Mary Margaret decided.
Emma glanced worriedly at the doorway leading off towards the kitchens, "...what if we get lost?"
"Breadcrumbs," she joked. She smiled at Belle, "We'll meet back here in a bit."
"Alright," Belle agreed, a little reluctant to let them wander on their own. But the fact they were already leaving made it difficult to argue, and the sooner she checked the tower the sooner she could get back to them.
She made her way up the familiar spiral, each step more difficult than the last. Seeing their home in such disrepair cut deeper than she imagined, and the thought that someone had broken in… They could've stolen any number of things, including the Nostos water.
The alchemy tower was more chaotic than even before she had started living there, bookshelves and work benches toppled over into…a pile. Not exactly organized but still more than if it had just been blown about by the curse. It would've had to take a whole team of men to accomplish, and for what? Belle cautiously approached the pile and peered into it, wondering if she should make a light…
Her blood went cold as she heard the rush of wings and the click of talons on stone behind her. A shrill cry came from the window and Belle wheeled around to see the glow of a fire forming in the throat of a dragon. With a sputtering cough the flame subsided and smoke billowed out from its nostrils. Belle only had a moment of relief before she was pounced, an excited shriek making her ears ring.
"Rumford?" She asked, though she knew that wasn't the right answer. It was too small to be him, which only left one alternative, "…Baden?!"
The wyvern shrieked again and pressed his head against her affectionately. It had been cute when he was younger, but now his head was almost as large as her body, and she was sure she'd be covered in bruises. She laughed, both out of relief and joy to be reunited with the hatchling.
"You scared me half to death!" She exclaimed, rubbing above his gills, "You've grown so much! …where is your papa?"
There had been no one so far, but that wasn't even the weirdest part of their sweep of the castle. Mary Margaret hadn't seen a single book since they had entered; the rest of Rumplestiltkin's mind-boggling large collections had been touched and occasionally sampled from, but the books were the only thing without fail that were nowhere to be found. There was large very intentional structural damage, and charred marks were common.
It only got stranger when they came to the ballroom. Mary Margaret and Emma stared at the sight before them with a mixture of awe and fear.
"We can't let Belle see this," Emma murmured, "It'll kill her."
In the center of the ballroom, meticulously constructed, was a nest made from the remains of the Dark Castle's book collection.
Mary Margaret felt as though she were being watched and turned around. A full-grown dragon glared irritably at them, his tail flicking behind him as the audacity of their trespassing sank in.
IIII
Disconnected. That was the best word to describe what had happened to her last night and how she felt now. She stood, staring out the window without seeing anything, convinced she was trembling but when she looked down her hand was steady. She wanted to vomit but there was nothing in her stomach. She heard Roger's soft gasps and pants behind her. She wasn't sure if he was crying or not, but she wouldn't blame him if he was.
Eleanor had no idea how they knew where the rendezvous was; maybe they had followed her when she went to meet Anita, Roger and the others under the full moon. One moment she had been trying to ignore Roger's childish attempts to get her to play; tugging on her ears, swiping at her tail. She had half a mind to give him the fight he was asking for when there was a yelp, and the scent of wolfblood filled the air. And then her mind was on Anita.
There were a few flashes of black that made things hard to pinpoint but those last few moments… She remembered seeing him coming for her, remembered Anita lunging at him… She remembered watching him being shaken bonelessly, watching the spray like a paint brush loaded with red flicked carelessly across a canvas.
It was black, then a scream pulled her back to consciousness.
The fight had stopped, both sides frozen, as Cruella bent over Radcliffe, clutching him and begging.
"Don't leave me! Please! Please I can't lose you! Just hold on Radcliffe! PLEASE I LOVE YOU!"
His head turned towards her, his body convulsing and fresh blood welling out. He lifted a hand and she clung to it, pressing the whole arm against her as if trying to give him her own life.
"You can't go," She wept, "I love you…"
A few more spasms and that was it. He had been taken.
She sobbed, screeching as she continued to cling to his arm, "NO! NO NO NO NO NO! NOOOOO! NO! NO!" She repeated the word at the top of her lungs, as if the chant would bring him back, as if denial would save him.
The white in his hair darkened; the blue softening to a more natural hue. Bent on her protest, Cruella didn't notice as strand by strand the hair on the left side of her head turned white, her brown eyes changing to an icy blue.
From then to waking up in Roger's home, Eleanor didn't remember a damn thing. She had lost control after she thought those days were behind her. The knowledge that years upon years of careful control meant nothing...and then watching her daughter, who had grown up with knowing how to keep from blacking out, tearing into her best friend's husband like he was just another deer...
Of course the loss of Radcliffe was devastating...but the knowledge that when it came down to it even the most capable of wolves were powerless to instinct...
"Mama…?"
She turned at the voice, seeing her Annie's wide frightened eyes staring up at her.
"I'm here, Anita."
Her mouth quivered and Roger rubbed her back reassuringly, "I…I killed him, didn't I? I killed..."
It was stupid to clarify who "he" was, so she just nodded.
Anita was frozen for a moment…and then she bent over and puked.
Over the next few days Eleanor stayed with her family, comforting in the only way she knew how; sitting watch, forcing them to eat, giving snide almost comforting remarks. Roger spoke even less than usual and Anita… Couldn't stop repeating the fact she had killed Radcliffe.
"I have to apologize," she insisted, "I have to beg Ella for her forgiveness."
"And what? Let her know it was you that killed him? Listen to me, Anita," she took her daughter's face in her hands, "You didn't tell her what you were, did you?"
"Of course not."
"Then don't be foolish and go and tell her!" She wiped at the tears falling from Anita's eyes, "I know you don't want to push this under the rug but we have to, because the only other option is that we fight. We'll grieve but we can't confess."
Anita nodded and pressed her forehead against her mother's shoulder, "That was the first time I've lost control since the beginning…"
Anita had never shown any uncertainty about how she felt about her other side before.
Eleanor went about her life as ordinarily as she possibly could but the shift in the Hunter household was palpable. Cruella never left the cabin; Horace and Jasper were deathly serious when they did emerge. All connections were cut, and it was announced that they'd be moving at the end of the month. She felt guilty for the relief she felt.
The full moon came and Eleanor tried to reconcile with her other half. But no matter how she tried she couldn't surrender as she had in the past, and therefore the blackouts returned. She was right back to viewing it wolf versus human instead of wolf and human.
Anita visited after wolvestime had passed, a little distressed, "Roger left a note saying he'd be out of town… But I would've thought he'd be back in time to turn."
"Well it's not he'd go anywhere so close to turning that didn't have woods nearby," Eleanor insisted, "I'm sure he's fine."
"I don't know, I'm worried," she folded her arms and paced, looking out the window. Horace and Jasper were loading up the horses with packs, "…they can't take everything like that."
"I reckon they'll be leaving a lot of it behind," she said, "Too many bad memories…"
They continued to watch the mens' progress in silence until Anita broke it, "I should go say goodbye."
"You should," Eleanor agreed.
"Will you go with me?"
"Why? You're a grown woman."
"Because I need you, Mama."
And, well, how could she argue with that?
They stepped outside as Jasper called out for Cruella. The Lucases hesitated in unison but, after glancing at each other, they kept going across the short way Anita had crossed hundreds of times before. The door swung open and Cruella stepped out, a new fur wrapped around her.
Anita stumbled back one step, another, her mouth dropping open. Eleanor's body tensed up even as her feet stayed rooted to the spot, not sure if she could move even if she wanted to. Cruella glanced over at them, Roger's pelt draped over her with his head resting on one of her shoulders.
Cruella smiled, a soft chuckle rising up and out of her. The chuckle rose into a laugh, and then she threw her head back and roared her amusement, her knees buckling as if she'd collapse. Crows took flight at her cackle, the horses shifting uneasily. Even Horace and Jasper seemed concerned that she'd never stop.
All the while Anita's husband shook with her laughter, a morbid flag declaring Cruella's victory over Radcliffe's killer.
III
Of course Ruby had imagined being hunted; she thought of running through the woods, her lungs burning. She thought of arrows piercing her, of swords swinging down to behead her. There was also the nightmare of being chained down and tortured, or a gladiator battle with other beasts. Armies, groups of hunters, battle axes, even Regina and her favored balls of fire…
What she hadn't imagined in any of her scenarios was a suburban backyard, being completely free to move, facing off against Cruella De Vil who just so happened to be her godmother. Horace and Jasper remained inside, watching from behind the sliding glass window with Perdita.
"Doesn't make a lot of sense," Ruby mused as she watched Cruella adjust her gloves, "If you're so bent on killing me, why wouldn't you tie me down?"
"Because even though she betrayed me," she secured the buckle, "She was still, at one time, my best friend. I owe you both at least this much." She glanced at Ruby with a smirk, "I could very well ask why you aren't attacking me while you have the chance."
"I'm waiting for my claws," she said, giving a pointed glance at the sky.
Once she was satisfied with her gloves, Cruella pulled twin sais out from sheaths on her hips, twirling them around impatiently.
"Well, whatever way this ends tonight," Cruella mused, "At least it'll finally end."
Ruby glanced up at the sky again, the curse stirring in her veins. She took a deep breath, the serenity of the wolf taking over as it moved through her body. Cruella's weapons stilled as she moved into a prepared stance. Ruby let herself fall, and there was grass between the toes of her paws. She breathed in, tensed up, and ran for the fence.
It was sort of ridiculous how easy a solution it was. As a wolf she'd clear the fence no problem. She sprang, felt herself flying towards freedom… And then she yelped when she felt a pain literally tear through her underside. She landed on her side and looked down at her stomach. A long gash decorated it, thankfully not deep enough to be lethal. Ruby glanced up to see Cruella taking her sweet time in going over to her, running her tongue along her bloodied weapon while her eyes remained locked on Ruby.
Ruby got up, but not before another slash went down her chest, then another under her chin. She stumbled back, alarmed at Cruella's speed. Cruella cackled, "Oh darling, I've killed so many of your kind. Are you honestly surprised-"
She had risked trying to catch Cruella off-guard, but that only resulted in a cut that miraculously didn't catch her jugular.
"Don't interrupt me!" She snapped, "Or I will make you into a coat you insolent pup!"
Ruby lunged and felt the sting. She kicked but Cruella didn't budge, continuing to slice into her in a pattern that Ruby didn't realize until she had lost too much blood to fight much.
"I almost feel bad about how easy this was," Cruella remarked, pinning Ruby's head back to expose her throat, "But you are young, and I doubt Regina's lackeys trained you for a real fight." She started to carefully cut horizontally, sawing pelt from flesh.
Ruby tried desperately to claw at her, but Cruella just sighed, "Oh stop it. We have a long way to go and I don't need you-"
There was a thud and Cruella rocked forward, her eyes widening. She gave a small gasp before reaching up, her fingers curling around a crossbow bolt.
"Next one goes in your head."
Cruella cackled, dislodging the bolt and tossing it aside, "I wondered if you would actually ever use that thing, or if it was just for show!"
She straightened and turned to see Granny making her way across the lawn, crossbow loaded and aimed, "If you want revenge, take it out on someone who was there! You leave my Ruby out of it!"
"It just wouldn't be the same," she insisted before sprinting forward.
Granny was prepared, waiting until the last possible second before bending down and digging her shoulder into Cruella's chest. She used the momentum to push Cruella off and onto the ground, pinning her under and aiming the crossbow down at her eye. It took Cruella a moment to realize the turned tables and in that moment of confusion, Granny saw the woman behind the hunter. She saw Ella.
Cruella stared up at her. She stared right back down at Cruella. A tense moment passed before her body relaxed under her, accepting her defeat. She leaned towards the bolt, the tip a breath away from scratching her cornea.
"Do it," she hissed. Granny's finger flirted with the trigger, but she couldn't squeeze. Not because of any maternal attachment. Not because she physically couldn't.
Cruella's face twisted as she shook, baring her teeth up at Granny, "DO IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!"
Granny twisted the crossbow around and in one practiced move cracked the butt of the crossbow over her head, knocking her out.
She rose and went over to Ruby, untying her cloak from the bundle strapped to her waist, "You're going to be alright," she murmured as she covered her with the cloak, "We'll get an ambulance called out here."
Ruby looked up at her grandmother, the gashes still severe in her current form, "…why didn't you kill her, Granny?" She asked softly.
She could've shrugged it off, or given a vague answer that wasn't really an answer… But she responded honestly, thinking Ruby deserved that much at least after everything, "Because if I had killed her I wouldn't have been any better than her, and I swore off being a monster a long time ago."
III
Rumplestiltskin typically wasn't up before the sun but today he had made an exception. A wolf with a basket had been sprinting up into his mountains, seeming hell bent on getting to the castle. Of course he had seen his share of werewolves coming to him for a "cure", but none had come toting a basket between their jaws.
There was no knocking; people didn't often give him such courtesy. He was there to greet them, or rather her, in the foyer. She was only slightly shorter than himself but built like a bricklayer, her basket glued to her side.
"Oh how thoughtful!" He cooed, taking a few steps closer to peer into the basket, "A present?"
He blinked and the woman was pointing a dagger at him, "Touch her and die," she snarled.
Rumplestiltskin held his hands up, straightening as he took a step back, "Now, now, I know it's your time of month, but there's no need to be so testy."
"I've run a long way to meet with you, Dark One," she stated, the blade steady in her hand, "I need a cure for the wolf affliction."
"You seem to have it handled."
"For her," she nodded down at the basket, "Her mother was born with it and I fear she'll be the same way. I can't have her go through what we've been through."
He narrowed his eyes, his inflection thoughtful, "What happened to her mother?"
"I stole Red from her," she said, devoid of remorse, "I couldn't let my granddaughter grow up in that toxic pack, this kill-them-before-they-kill-us-they're-mere-sheep mentality." She locked eyes with him, "I can't let her grow up to be a monster like we are."
He did so admire parents, or grandparents, who were passionate about their children. He shook his head, "I can't give her a cure. I could give you a cure, since you contracted it… But you can't cure someone that's been born the way they are."
She didn't let the news faze her, "Then give her something to control it."
"Alright." He stepped forward again, this time not approaching the basket but rather Eleanor herself. They stood toe-to-toe, breaching the comfort zone but she refused to back down or look away from his inhuman eyes. He lowered his voice to a throaty murmur, "…and what are you willing to pay for your granddaughter's safeguard against herself?"
He expected the usual answer that came from countless desperate souls such as herself. He was ready to mouth the words "whatever it takes" along with her, but she remained silent. She watched him as intently as he watched her, an old wolf and an even older dragon sizing each other up.
"You know what I've got," she murmured, "Make your offer and I'll see if I want to sell."
Chills, actual chills, ran through Rumplestiltskin's body. It was an oddity to find someone unafraid of him, but one that could also match his wits? If he were a maiden he'd swoon.
Claws reached out, dragging along the skin of her arm. A trail of goosebumps rose in his wake and there was a slight flare to her nostrils. But she kept her calm, maintained their gaze, and that only fueled his fire for her.
He reached the crook of her arm, the claws flattening so fingers rested over her pulse, "…a vial of your blood."
She snorted, "That's it?"
"You'd be surprised how many potions and spells require the blood of a child of the moon, and it's really quite bothersome to go hunt them myself."
"I want this in writing," she demanded, "And a copy of the contract."
He shivered, "Ooooh yes, keep going. Talk intelligently to me."
Rumplestiltskin was pretty sure if she hadn't of been holding Red, she would've stabbed him. He was also pretty sure he caught the ghost of a smile on Widow Lucases' lips.
III
"I for one am glad you didn't kill her," Radcliffe said while Cruella concentrated on watching the trail, Perdita occasionally sniffing but mostly keeping her brisk pace towards the beach, "You'd have never forgiven yourself."
"But now what?" She muttered, glancing around quickly to make sure no one was paying attention to her, "We only know of two werewolves in all of Storybrooke. If I don't kill one of them then you might never move on."
"I refuse to believe that there's not another one hiding around here somewhere."
Cruella braced herself when a skateboarder came up on her right, moving right through Radcliffe and scattering him into a hundred wisps of pearlescent matter. It was her pet peeve when people moved through him, and it made going out in public nearly impossible. The only thing she hated as much as his spectral shattering was not being able to respond to him. Being under observation in the psych ward had been pure hell.
Radcliffe tried to accommodate her, but his existence was completely tethered to her. He couldn't just disappear to somewhere else; on the best of days he might be able to go into the next room so she could have some privacy.
It was a permanent reminder of her failure to save him from his grisly demise at Anita's fangs.
"I know you, Ella." He continued once he was materialized again into his vaguely human form. Not nearly enough detail for her liking, "There's a reason you had saved Anita for last, a reason you didn't go after Ms. Lucas, and a reason you were so lax with Ruby."
"There is no reason," she hissed, and a couple glanced over at her. She was getting too close to people now; no more two-way conversation.
"I know you feel guilty for what happened to me and you want to set me free or whatever… But you have to think about the price as well. And honestly I'm not sure you want me to cross over." She whipped her head to the side and glared at him. He held up his hands defensively, "I'm not judging you if you are… All I've ever wanted for you is your happiness. If that means me staying or going it doesn't matter… I just want you to live again."
She had been alive under the curse, when time had frozen and pills fought off what she thought were only hallucinations. Maybe she would be alive if she left Storybrooke. But that meant forgetting about her true love, and forgetting meant not honoring his life, or what they had had together.
"PONGO!"
Cruella glanced over as a black-and-white streak raced over to Perdita who, coy lady she was, was attempting to hide behind her mistress. Pongo wasn't fooled and chased after her, giving her a canine greeting that made Cruella wrinkle her nose and Perdita yap a protest. The two dogs chased each other, tangling her up in Perdita's leash and causing Radcliffe to laugh. Archie came running over, umbrella tucked under one arm, and attempted to grab his dog and pull him off.
"Pongo what has gotten into you?!" He snapped. The Dalmatian wasn't paying any mind to his master, wagging his tail and continuing to stare at the perturbed Perdita, "I am so sorry, miss, he's not usually like this."
Archie straightened and stared at her, and Cruella was immediately self-conscious about her hair. This world's pop culture had done her no favors, and her hair was synonymous with animal cruelty. She gripped the leash tighter, fearful that he'd get her dog taken away again because of her counterpart's crimes. But after a moment he just smiled.
"I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Dr. Hopper and, um, you've met Pongo…" He patted his pet's side, glancing down at hers, "And…I'm going to take a wild guess and say your dog's name is Perdita."
She nodded, "That is she, and I'm… Cruella."
He smiled, "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Cruella."
Radcliffe watched the exchange, "…I like him," he decided.
...Cruella liked him too.
"You should be friends with him," he insisted.
If only anything were that simple anymore.
IIIIII
Lesson learned: Don't ever save your stories on your work e-mail, because there may be times when you can't access your work e-mail and have to wait for it to get fixed in order to continue the latest chapter.
This was actually tons of fun, and I feel a lot better now that I at least wrote some more flesh onto the scraps of backstory we've gotten for the Lucases. And we'll have to see in March how similar or dissimilar canon Cruella is to Golden-verse Cruella.
Sneak peek: THIS is where more dream skyping will be (stupid change of plans made the last sneak peek a liar). Rumford and Baden assist the heroines to go where they've already gone before. Belle's early days after Rumplestiltskin is incarcerated. I would not set my expectations on this being a long chapter.