Reawakened: A Once Upon a Time Tale (4 page)

“Let’s drop the game,” Snow said, pulling back her hood and stepping forward. “Tell us what you know.”

“I will,” said Rumplestiltskin, stepping nearer to the bars. “If you’ll give me something in return, sweet Snow White.”

Charming stepped forward as well, putting himself between the bars and his wife. “You’re not getting out of here. There is no chance. So don’t even try it.”

“No, not now,” said Rumplestiltskin. “Of course not. I will be out later. When we’re all gone. What I need is assurances. For then. For later. Eh?”

“What do you mean?” Charming said. “What would—”

“Just tell us what you want,” said Snow. “We don’t have time for this.”

“The name of your unborn child would be… quite lovely.”

“Absolutely not!” cried Charming.

“Deal,” said Snow White, ignoring her husband. “Now tell us. What does the Queen have planned for us? How will she take our happiness? I know she has a real plan.”

Rumplestiltskin was at the bars of the cell now, and they could see his scaled face. His nose was twisted and warted, his teeth yellow spikes. Some foul magic had done this to him, but Snow didn’t know exactly how and didn’t care to.

He smiled, his grotesque tongue wagging out of his mouth. “The Evil Queen has created a powerful curse,” he said quickly. “Or at least gotten her hands on one. And it’s coming. It won’t just affect this land. It will touch all the lands…. Soon you’ll all be in a prison. Just like me. Only worse. Your prison—all of our prisons—will be Time.”

“This is foolish,” said Charming. “Come on.”

Rumplestiltskin ignored him, and his voice grew grave. “Time will stop. We will all be trapped, suffering for eternity. The Queen will lord over us, enslave us. We will be lost, confused. Hopeless. No more happy endings.” He waited, let this sink in. “None of us can do a thing to stop it.”

Snow looked at him grimly. Rumplestiltskin was full of trickery, but he never actually lied. Which led her to buy it, that they were in great danger, just as the Queen had promised. “Then who can?” she said.

“The child,” said Rumplestiltskin, looking at her belly. “The child will be able to stop her.”

“You must get her to safety,” he said finally. “Away from here. When she reaches the age of twenty-eight, it will begin. She will save… us. All of us.” This last line he delivered simply, as though it were only a matter of course.

“She?” said Charming, turning to Snow. The jailer was motioning for them to leave. “But it’s a boy.”

“Is it?” said Rumplestiltskin. “I don’t think so, Mr. Prince!” he sang this last line.

“We have to prepare,” Snow said to Charming. “Come, my love. His prophecy is correct. I know it.”

“Wait!” cried Rumplestiltskin. “The child’s name! I need it! We had a deal!”

Snow turned, looking at the monster of a man.

“Emma,” she said. “Her name will be Emma.”

• • •

The roads were quiet and empty. Soon they were out of Boston.

Emma glanced over at the boy, who had the book open in his lap. Based on the illustration, it looked like he was reading about Snow White—or someone who resembled Snow White and liked to hang out with bluebirds, at least—but it was a part of the story she didn’t know—the heroine was down in some kind of dungeon, talking to a goblin. Emma looked back at the road and tried to remember the story. Wasn’t it about a bunch of dwarfs? Singing? They were all jumbled up in her head. One set of foster parents had pushed the Disney movies on her, and she’d loved them, but to her, they’d all been the long string of one fairy tale, and she tended to get them confused.

“You like that book, huh?” Emma said.

Henry didn’t respond, and she looked over, expecting to see him too engrossed in his story. But he was looking up, eyes wide, smiling. “We’re here,” he said.

She followed his eyes and saw the sign: welcome to storybrooke.

“Great,” she said. “Welcome to Storybrooke. Here we are. Fantastic. How about an address?”

“It’s a really small town,” he said. “It’s really simple.”

“I’ll bet it’s simple,” Emma muttered, slowing the car as they began to pass the first houses and buildings. It was like any town in any part of America, really—shops and houses, some of them new and bright, some of them beat up and dusty. Probably complicated and not so cute when you looked past the surface. She had never heard of Storybrooke, but she knew this town like she knew every town.

“Really,” she said. “Where do you live?”

“I’m not telling.”

Emma rolled her eyes, pulled over. Kids. Hilarious. The intensity of the feelings from her apartment had worn off. Now she was just tired and confused. She wasn’t going to figure this out now. All she had to do was get him home and not get arrested. Make that your goal, Swan, she thought. Keep it simple.

There were few cars parked anywhere nearby, and it was late enough that all the shops were closed. The place looked deserted. She looked up at a clock built into what looked like a library. “It’s already eight fifteen,” she said. “Let’s quit the games.”

“That clock always says eight fifteen,” Henry said.

“What?”

“The Evil Queen did it,” Henry said. “Stopped time. She sent everyone here from there. From the Enchanted Forest. So everyone is trapped here. And trapped in time, too. They don’t even know.”

“Why don’t the people just leave and go to where time works, then?” Emma said.

“Bad things happen whenever anyone tries to leave.”

“Oh yeah?” Emma squinted. “What kind of bad things?”

Before he could answer, Emma was startled by a light tapping on the passenger-side window. A thin, harmless-looking
man stood beside the car, adjusting his glasses, looking down at her passenger. He was holding an umbrella, even though it wasn’t raining.

“Is that you, Henry?” he said.

Henry turned and looked up at the man. He rolled down his window. “Hi, Archie,” Henry said.

Archie adjusted his glasses again, looked over at Emma. Emma smiled.

“Who’s this?” he asked. Friendly but skeptical, Emma thought. I would be, too.

“It’s my mom,” Henry said.

“I don’t—” Emma started.

“My real mom,” Henry added.

Archie looked at Henry for a long moment, then at Emma. “I see.”

“I’m just trying to get him home,” Emma said, pleading innocence with a look. “Can you point me in the right direction? He showed up at my house in Boston. I don’t know where he lives; he won’t tell me.”

“Sure thing,” said Archie, apparently relaxing. “He lives at the mayor’s house, of course. Regina Mills. The mansion right up Mifflin.”

Emma, eyebrows raised, glanced over at Henry, who gave an innocent shrug. “The mayor?” she said. “Really? You’re the prince of this town?”

“Was there a reason you missed our session today, Henry?”

“I was out of town,” Henry said. “On vacation.”

Archie gave him a friendly, understanding look. “Okay. What did I tell you about lying, Henry?”

“That it only hurts the person who does the lying. In the end.”

Archie nodded.

“I’ll get him home, Doc,” Emma said. “Thanks.”

She pulled away, watching the strange man in her rearview mirror. “So that’s your shrink, huh?” They were always weirdos.

“Sort of,” Henry said. “But he’s also Jiminy Cricket.”

“Excuse me?”

“Everyone here,” Henry insisted. “I told you. Everyone here is a fairy tale character. Weren’t you listening? From the book.”

He pointed.

“All of the stories in this book are real.”

Emma glanced again at the man, who was growing smaller and smaller in her mirror. She cocked her head. He did walk a little funny.

“Sure, kid,” she said. “Whatever you say.”

• • •

They drove in silence as Emma kept a lookout for the mayor’s house. She had distracted herself with the task of bringing Henry home and had not let herself think too much about what he’d told her. All she remembered was a baby she’d only been allowed to hold for a moment—a warm, soft, crying thing who’d looked up at her with cloudy eyes from a stiff bed in a jail hospital ward. After that: just the devastation. Months of it. Years. It was funny that anything that small could grow into a walking, talking thing. That was almost the craziest fantasy story there was.

Nothing in her life had hurt more than when the nurse pulled him away from her. She was so exhausted that she couldn’t even cry out. She remembered the baby’s delicate face
and tried to keep herself from glancing over at Henry to compare him to her memories.

She saw Mifflin and turned. It was only a cul-de-sac, and it was obvious which house was the mayor’s mansion.

“Home sweet home?” Emma said as she stopped the car. “I’m sure your parents will be glad to have you back.”

“It’s only my mom,” Henry said, looking down at his hands. “And she’s evil incarnate.”

“I know it feels like that sometimes.”

He looked over. “No,” he said lightly. “You don’t understand. She’s actually evil. Like for real. Evil. Satan? All of those guys?”

She didn’t want her voice to crack, but she didn’t know what to say to him. Was it her job to comfort him? How did one even…

“I don’t think—” she started.

“Henry! Henry!”

Emma looked over. A woman—dark-haired, beautiful, sharply dressed—was rushing from the house, toward the car. Her eyes were locked on Henry. “Are you hurt? Where have you been?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Henry complained. “I found my mom.”

The woman froze when she heard this, and looked at Emma for the first time. Emma felt coldness in her heart.

“You… are his birth mother?” she said eventually.

Emma nodded, trying to look surprised and innocent. “Apparently,” she said. “Nice to meet you.”

Emma couldn’t tell what to make of the look the woman gave her next. Eventually she said, “Well. I see. And would you like to come inside for some apple cider?”

Henry looked over, hopeful.

Emma said, “You got anything stronger?”

• • •

After the meeting with Rumplestiltskin, the knowledge of the curse settled over the castle like a gloomy, cold fog. Snow White urged action. After many meetings among the leaders of Fairy Tale Land, it was decided that steps had to be taken in order to protect the realm.

The Blue Fairy laid it out plainly: If it was true that the Evil Queen soon planned to unleash a curse that would trap them all, and that Snow White’s unborn daughter was the only one who would be able to free them, then the girl would need to be protected.

The Blue Fairy’s plan was simple. Using the last available tree in the Enchanted Forest, Geppetto would build a wardrobe that could protect Snow White from the curse and transport her and the child to a safe place. From there, Snow White would raise the girl and guide her to her twenty-eighth birthday. When she reached that age, she would fulfill her fated role and save them all.

As Geppetto readied the wardrobe, Snow White’s pregnancy came closer and closer to its conclusion. Snow White and Prince Charming, knowing they would be separated, did their best to prepare themselves. It would only be temporary, they told each other. Little Emma would grow up to save them all. Somehow.

If only it were so simple.

One evening, a plume of green fog appeared on the horizon. It seemed to be gathering itself and growing, cascading
up out from the trees as though it were exploding from a volcano.

This was it. The curse. It was happening now.

Grumpy began to yell. “It’s time,” Charming said to his wife. “Prepare yourself.”

But Snow White, on the bed, couldn’t speak. She had felt a contraction earlier in the day and had said nothing, hoping for it to fade. Now, though, another one—more intense—gripped her body, and she closed her eyes, breathing deeply.

“The baby is coming,” she said.

She opened her eyes. She couldn’t hold back her tears. Charming, surprised, looked at her from across the room.

“The baby is coming now, my love.”

• • •

Emma sat in the mayor’s study, holding a glass of cider, self-consciously hunched, staring at a painting of an apple tree.

“I’ve been keeping the same apple tree alive for a very long time,” said Regina, watching her study the painting. “It’s just off Main Street.” She was sitting across from Emma, immaculate legs crossed, having regained her composure. “I feel as though there’s a certain value to consistent, long-term support. Don’t you?”

Emma could think of a lot of things to say in response. Instead, she just nodded, turned to Regina, and said, “Your tree is very nice.”

“I’m sorry he dragged you out of your life,” Regina said. “I really don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

“Seems like he’s having a hard time,” Emma said, taking a sip. “I guess. Then again, what do I know?”

“Ever since I’ve been mayor, the balancing act has been difficult. You must understand. You have a job, I assume?”

“I have a job,” Emma said, ignoring the condescension.

“Well, when you’re a single mother, it’s like having two full-time jobs. And so yes, I do push for order. I’m strict with him. But it’s for his own good. I want him to be successful; I don’t want him to feel like he was handed everything. But I don’t think that qualifies me as evil, exactly. Am I crazy?”

“He’s only saying that because of the fairy tale thing.”

“What fairy tale thing?”

“You know, his book. He thinks everyone is a cartoon character from the book or something. I mean, the kid thinks his shrink is Jiminy Cricket. So.”

Emma, who’d been staring at her drink, looked up at Regina and was surprised to see her looking rather alarmed.

“I’m sorry,” Regina said. “I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Christ, she doesn’t know about the book, Emma thought. She was crossing way too many lines. She had to get out of here before she found a way to blow up the whole town.

“You know what?” Emma said. “I’m just going to go back to Boston, I think. I’m in your way here. I’m glad he’s safe.”

Regina stood as Emma stood. “I am, too,” she said, holding out her hand to shake. “I appreciate what you’ve done. I do. I’m glad he’s back home and safe. Thank you.”