Sophrosyne, Chapter 3
++ Regina ++
It was the desperate plea to have faith in him that did me in. Since the moment I realized that I could lose him forever, Henry is all that has mattered to me. For him, I have given up everything that has defined me for so long.
Even him.
The deadly barrier spell arcs through me, acid green lightning burning in the violently expanding pyroclastic cloud of my internal magics. The pain is an excruciating burn that must be akin to grabbing a high voltage power line. I would scream if I could.
Is this how it will end? The cold dirt shoveled over my deep darkness? Will anyone mourn me?
With a wrenching blast of power, I am tossed away like a leaf in a storm; dazed and suffused with magics that actively hurt. Fairy magic and the dark forces that power me are not meant to mix. Breathing heavily, my trembling hands levering my heavy body up, I focus my will like the tool it has always been.
Breathing deeply, striving to calm the internal storm, I can only tremble there, on the forest floor. The whirling violet clouds of power have been the only soul and heart I have acknowledged in so long. This raging influx of electric pain has thrown them into sharp relief, broiling lightning amidst the whirlwind. Slowly, the storm quiets, the lightning swallowed by the maelstrom that so often feels like the only heart I have left.
Shaking it off, like one would do from a blow to the head, I finally look up, hoping that my effort has not been in vain. But immediately, my heart reminds me that it still lives, as it lurches in pain at the expression on my son's face.
"No!" he cries, devastated that his hero has not come back. Even that bastard Rumpelstiltskin looks perturbed.
"I'm sorry, Henry," I whisper in a voice like ground glass. "I'm sorry."
And then, miracle of miracles...
There is a scrabbling hand at the lip of the wishing well.
++ Emma ++
This is what I’ve been dreading with every fiber of my being.
But, despite my very real misgivings, I climb with all my strength. Because that's what I’m meant to do.
Survive.
Bracing my hands and feet on the inside of the vertical tunnel we've magically appeared in, I chance a glance down at Mary Margaret, who is hanging from my waist. The swirling purple whirlpool is vertigo inducing, but I swallow my stomach down and call out, "Keep your grip so I can pull us up! Who knows what's at the end of this thing. Just don't touch that damn chain."
Huffing dryly at my dark humor, she does as I demand with the strength and determination I’ve grown to admire in this friend, now mother and protector. Grunting with effort, I focus pure physical effort to drag our combined weight to where I can lash out and hook a hand over the stone lip. Both of us crash painfully to the side of what can only be the damn wishing well, but we hang on.
"You can do it, Emma," Mary Margaret encourages with that sweet smile and I really put my back into it.
When my eyes meet Henry's, the reality of this reunion is so much worse than my imagination could conjure up.
Though, when I have time to process it later, Gold's expression will be frickin' hilarious.
Henry stares in horror as my body continues to strain with effort until I can get my elbows on the lip of the well.
"Wha... what... who are you?"
Yep, now it's real, all the expected fear and disbelief. Every scenario I've tried to run through my head goes flying out the proverbial window.
"It's me," I yell, noticing Gold's threat posture. "Emma. I had a... run in... With magic."
Even as I slip a bit, causing Mary Margaret to swallow a cry of alarm, I see Ruby stirring on the ground not far away and Regina half crumpled at the foot of a nearby tree. Her shocked expression is almost as comical as Gold's.
"I have Mary Margaret with me."
With a powerful heave, I get a better grip on the edge of the well and brace my feet to push my torso half out. Mostly counterbalanced now, though the stones are digging into my gut, I move a hand to reach for Mary Margaret. When her grip is secure, I hook my hand under her thigh to heave her out before slithering out and crashing onto the brick dais in an undignified heap.
I'm so glad to see Henry that my eyes are full of tears, one hand reaching helplessly for him. His recoiling from my impossibly strange appearance, though expected, doesn't lessen the pain.
Welcome home indeed.
++ Regina ++
I have never witnessed such a thing. It must be some sort of illusion, though well-honed instincts on all things magical tell me that it's not.
"What's going on? What happened?"
Ah yes, with the return of the savior, so too my old enemy. The fiery hate feels hollow and almost soggy somehow, too difficult to keep the flames lit.
"She saved you," Henry whispers as though unaware he's even spoken. The words might be complimentary, but the way they are said, as though I’m not even here-- or worse, not important-- are like a knife to the heart. "She saved both of you."
I have been demoted even further away from mother, of no more use now but to be a magical battery to save his hero. Will this torture never end?
Snow is torn between the impossibly altered savior and her Prince Charming, who is still in town, trapped in his sleeping curse. I'm too weary and raw to do more than numbly note the drama as she goes to Henry. He startles as though electrified when she touches him. "Henry, sweetie, everything is going to be fine. Take me to where David is, okay?"
Ruby is up finally, hugging her old friend and they coax Henry away. His eyes are traumatized and confused, but he places his trust in them.
Not a glance is spared for me.
That will never stop hurting.
Struggling to my feet with a shaking hand on the bark of the tree, I desperately search for something to help me calm and focus. All I see is Emma Swan still crumpled at the foot of the wishing well, staring after Henry with a forlorn expression that surely must mirror my own. There is a perverse irony that she... he will have to do for now. Because we are all that is left amid the sentinel trees.
++ Emma ++
"Is this how you felt?" My whispered question feels like rough grit sandpaper in my throat. "All those times he just... walked away? God, Regina, I’m so sorry for that."
Blind with tears, I stay where I fell, back pressed to the cold stone and grind my dirty palms into my eye sockets. After a long minute, some semblance of resigned calm settles and I look up to see that only Regina remains.
"Um, your mom… She’s, uh… She’s… a piece of work, you know?"
Something broken and humorless dances in Regina's faint smirk as she wraps her arms around herself like armor. "Indeed I do."
The dark eyes stare openly at me, her expression vacillating from almost horrified fascination to apologetic. I don't have the will or energy to take offense either way. Better get used to it, right?
"Did... did she do this?" Regina asks hesitantly and it takes me a moment to figure out what she means.
Of all the questions regarding my new 'look', that one hadn't actually occurred to me and I huff humorlessly. "No, but it's sort of a perversely amusing thought, huh? No, me and goddamn, freaking Captain Hook climbed a beanstalk to confront a damn giant, touched some doohickey and got whammied."
There's no mistaking the flicker of surprised recognition at the mention of Hook, and shock about the giant.
"You look like hell."
At the flat, oddly welcome statement, I can't help the helpless and painfully hysterical laughter that boils up from my cavernous chest. It rushes through me, becoming a harsh sob and I rub my eyes once more before looking at myself. I'm dressed in rags and an enemy's leather pants, while trapped in this foreign, male body. Yeah I bet I look like hell. The filthy beard scratching at my fingers and palms as I run them over my face is stark reminder.
"Yeah, I bet I do at that. Could I hitch a ride into town? I'm tired of walking around like a caveman."
Startled again, she nods and turns away. Weary in body and soul, I silently follow, trusting her to lead me through the trees. Yes, I know this is Regina, but right now, she is the only familiar link to my shattered life to cling to.
++ Regina ++
Like some sort of shambling undead thing, the big man that has replaced my latest nemesis follows me to the car. I cannot stop my eyes from glancing back to marvel in fascinated disbelief. The tattered and decaying rags wrapping the muscular torso are a mess with gore and filth staining them. There is dried blood on the bearded face, flaking away from exertion, and fresh blood high on his left arm. The strong hands are battered raw and bruised, his feet wrapped in ragged cloth and leather scraps.
All in all, she... he, is a mess.
At the car, I hold open the door and wince in some sympathy as he folds his large body in and smacks his head into the car's frame, hard enough that it rocks the sedan. He barely seems to notice, despite the many bruises on his face.
He stinks, reeking of old sweat, fear and putrid death. It's nauseating, and strangely grounding, the very mundane bodily reactions to the smells reassuring me that this is indeed real.
Why am I even helping?
It always comes back to Henry. He will want this person safe, despite his horrified shock at the wishing well. His heart has been too set on Emma for too long. He's stubborn like that.
With the heater on full blast and the windows open a bit, I make it back to town with my sanity and stomach intact.
"Out," I order brusquely, wanting to be rid of this stranger who is no stranger.
Yet, he is so pitiful that even my heart of smoke cannot just throw him away like garbage. I know how that feels and cannot find it in me any longer to pass that on to the next soul.
Once again, he batters himself against the car and the door, seeming not to notice in the slightest, despite the faint winces.
Then the happy crowd pours out of Gold's shop and I cannot help but shy away. And yet... I find myself remaining at Emma Swan's side.
++ Emma ++
And here it is: the chorus of shocked and horrified stares that I’ve so been looking forward to. I don't even notice that I’ve started inching behind Regina like a chickenshit until she steps away and stares at me in disbelief. Not like everyone else's 'what the hell happened to you', but a nice normal 'what the hell do you think you are doing?'.
"Oh my," David finally says inanely and I think I can actually hear Regina roll her eyes.
"Magical doohicky," she drawls with heavy sarcasm on that last word. "In the giant's castle or so... he tells me. Apparently the infamous Captain Hook was the other recipient of whatever this is."
More startled looks pass over the group and I really want to sink into the cement. When a hand comes to rest on my wrist, I startle and find myself looking into David's soft gaze. Even more shocking is when he grasps my chin to turn my head and look at my profile. "Well the genes certainly run true. I think you're even better looking than me."
The ripple of startled amusement that moves through the group is like a balm on my soul and tears well up again.
"I swear," I choke on the words for a moment, but force myself to breathe them out. "If you make a crack about always wanting a son, I will punch you."
Chuckling, David pulls me into a gentle hug, before swatting me hard on the back. "Let's get you cleaned up and into some clothes before the whole town descends."
"I'll start explaining," Mary Margaret says quickly, stepping out of the knot of dwarves, grandson, and werewolf to take my hand for a moment. She's really been my strength since this happened and I find myself in a childish near-panic at the idea of being separated from her after so long. Watching my... parents kiss soothes my frayed emotions somehow, even if I’m distracted at the chorus of stares from behind them.
"Come on then," David enthuses, but I pause and find myself staring at a clearly uncomfortable Regina.
"Thank you. For your help."
Her shock is nearly palpable, widening her striking eyes and rippling through the little crowd. It only deepens when I find myself reaching out to carefully set a hand on her crossed arms, feeling the brush of her shirt on my clumsy fingertips.
"Will you be okay?"
She can only stare at me as though she's never seen me before, and I realize that it has nothing to do with my new appearance. It's because I’m being kind and, for the first time, I really feel for her. Having spent a bit of time in the presence of her evil loony of a mother, I understand now how she's come to be on the path she's walked for so long.
Some of that is reflected in my son's eyes. I think maybe we can understand this woman we're both bound to, whether we like it or not.
Just as the moment starts to grow uncomfortable, Regina finally gives me a slight nod, her expression unreadable, before she hurries away.
++ Gold ++
I have seen much in my life; witnessed many things both mundane and magical. But this sort of transformation is new to me. If I hadn't seen him crawl from the well with my own eyes, reinforced by overhearing Snow White hurriedly telling the others about this, I would have thought this was some homeless man mistakenly wandering into my shop.
"Sheriff Swan. I believe I owe you an apology for the booby trap at the well. It turns out your boy is far wiser than we gave him credit for."
Clearly taken aback by my calm statement, she... he pauses, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.
"No, I understand why you wanted to keep Cora out of here."
"Just remind me never to bet against you in the future."
"It's not really a bet when the game is rigged, is it?"
I do love an audacious opponent, the thrill of someone who does not cower in fear automatically. It makes their eventually defeat all the sweeter.
"To what exactly are you referring?"
"Your scroll. I saw it in your cell. You wrote my name again and again and again."
She... he is very intelligent, but has no concept of long-term plans. How could he? That is a skill that requires the maturity and roots he has never before needed.
"Just wanted to make sure it would stick."
"The ink, it was there all the time. You could've gotten out."
This is where the game gets dicey. Lying can come back to haunt me, it's happened before. So, the best moves contain enough truth to make the lies ring true.
"I was exactly where I needed to be. You needed to find that, so all this could occur."
He doesn't like that, the green eyes narrowing and nostrils flaring.
"You created the curse, Gold. You made me the savior. So everything I’ve ever done... it's exactly what you wanted me to do."
Not entirely the truth, that, but she... he's very close to the mark. So I once more dole out a careful dose of abbreviated truth.
"I created the curse, dearie, but I didn't make you. I merely took advantage of what you are; the product of true love. That's why you're powerful. And everything you've done, you've done yourself."
His expression has changed, thoughtful and cagey. I don't like surprises and I know that I’m in for one right now.
"So you don't know."
It takes a real effort of will to not snap at him. "Know what?"
"Cora tried to rip my heart out, but she couldn't. She was blasted back by something inside me. By... by..."
Poor, confused lad can't even say it, so I do. "… by magic. Whatever that was, I didn't do that. You did."
Yes, I can make use of this little tidbit of information in the future, of that I have no doubt.
++ Emma ++
Water hot as I can stand it cascades in blissful abandon over my changed body and, for the moment, I can't even bring myself to give a damn about the sting. This feels so impossibly decadent after weeks of roughing it. Eventually, I have to quit procrastinating or risk soaping up in cold water, so I grit my teeth and roughly scrub up my foreign-feeling body. I've only had these few days to get used to it and that hasn't included a bath.
Going to the bathroom was bad enough. Waking up with my first real hard-on will be a freakin' joy.
Guiltily, I yank my hand away from my groin as my emotions once again trump physical need. Quickly washing the short nap of darkly blonde hair the change left me, I step out of the shower, perversely glad the mirror is fogged up.
Wrapping up in a towel, I creep to my room, warmed by Henry's things scattered about. Yes, it reminds me of the look on his face when I appeared, but that pain is fading a bit. He just needs time, just like everyone will just need time. There is a pile of cloth on the bed and I’m utterly gratified to find a pair of dark sweats, a t-shirt, warm blue flannel, thick socks and a brand new package of honest to god tighty-whitey briefs.
Once again, I have to laugh with that painful edge of hysteria.
Sitting on the edge of my familiar squeaky bed with my head in my hands, I take a moment to calm before getting into what are obviously David's clothes. They fit well and the irony of that does not escape me. Just dressing in actual clothes makes me feel immeasurably better. With false bravado, I carefully negotiate the steps down to the living space and face the man who is my father, despite our similar ages. He grins warmly and holds out a mug of hot, black coffee that almost makes me swoon.
"There, now you look better. Drink up."
The forced normalcy is soothing, giving me some psychological breathing room. I'm also handed a plate with a pair of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Food hasn't looked so good in a long, long time.
"Not a cook," he explains sheepishly and I have to chuckle and carefully set down the mug before I drop it. The first sandwich is gone in four bites, the familiarity warming my half-starved guts. Around the other sandwich and more coffee, I do my best to explain what happened while he just listens quietly and asks the occasional question.
By the time Mary Margaret arrives, thankfully alone, I’ve pretty much worked my way through it all. She strokes my face hello as I smile helplessly and gives me such a disapproving mom face that I’m startled to faint laughter.
"Oh, I was hoping you'd clean up more."
The reply is out of my mouth before I can stop it.
"Frankly, the idea of shaving makes me want to scream like a B-grade movie queen."
++ David ++
I wasn't kidding when I noted that this stranger that is my long lost daughter is a handsome fellow. In his scruffy face I can see hints of myself more strongly than Mary Margaret now, which does give me an odd thrill. Not that I am the least bit disappointed that my first born is... was a girl. But maybe the next might be a son?
It's both sweet and telling to see how Emma leans into Mary Margaret's fussing hands, even as she... he flinches away. Slim fingers rake through the darkly blonde hair, neatening the wild strands.
"The others missed you," Mary Margaret says quietly and Emma cringes into her... himself. "They'll get used to this, they will. Just give everyone some time. Would you like me to take that shackle over to Gold and get his opinion on it?"
"And trust him anywhere near it? I'd rather not. Though, I suppose at some damn point I’m going to have to, aren't I? Maybe Regina'll take a look at it."
Mary Margaret fires me a weird, desperate look I can only partially decipher.
"Well, either choice has its dangers, right?" I hedge a little lamely and I'm relieved when she relaxes. "Taking some time to acclimate can only do you good. Oh, Snow, stop fussing and sit." Reluctantly, she does as asked, but has given me an idea. "Emma? Could you use a hand with some grooming? I could probably give you a trim."
That's never the sort of thing a sane person expects to say in casual conversation. The look on Emma's face is amusing and we both grin at the same time before cracking up.
It feels good.
Once laughed out, Emma agrees to some grooming and I go rifle through my things still here in the apartment. Luckily, since I've been living here, my own hygiene supplies are at hand. So I retrieve them and return to my family, shooing Mary Margaret away to occupy herself.
A soft bristled brush seems a safe place to start and I neaten the straight, darkly gold strands and make him look a little more civilized. Too bad about those lovely blonde curls.
"Did you chop this short?"
Not the most subtle of conversation starters, but I can't take it back now.
Luckily, Emma only shrugs and answers calmly. "No, I woke up this way, and Hook had long hair. Our reversed builds were fairly close to our opposite, and I had this stupid, itchy crap on my face, so I’m guessing the curse or whatever this is means some kind of reversal with the details tailored. If that made any sense..."
Pulling the handsome face around, I'm once again grateful that the eyes have not changed. The soulful green gaze so like her... his mother's.
With a comb and sharp little scissors and some mutual giggling, I snip away at the softly coarse hairs until they lie closer to his skin.
"Well, as curses go, this one isn't the worst, right?"
Huffing softly with dark humor Emma agrees. "Right..."
++ Emma ++
"Are you absolutely sure?"
"God yes. The idea of being a public freak is not in my cards right now."
It's not my intent to hurt Mary Margaret, it's really not, but she doesn't seem to be able to see this from my point of view. I'm far too raw and weary to deal with the stares and whispers that my very changed self will get right now. After some time has passed, this transformation won't be such a shock anymore, but until then, I’m the world's best sideshow freak.
But good lord those puppy eyes are hard to say no to.
To anyone I have ever used that weapon on, I apologize. That's just not fair.
"Look, MM, I don't want to bail on you, but I feel like a damn spectacle right now. Let me get used to this some more, especially now that we're home, and keep the kid with you at David's apartment. He needs some time to process, okay? Poor kid's had too damn much happen to him and I’m not helping."
"It's not your fault!"
"I know that!"
Did I really just yell like that? Dammit... Fighting for calm, I force my voice down, choking on my stress and temper.
"I know. But neither was that sleeping curse or being adopted by Regina or the damn curse or the hundred other things that has happened to him. Or me, for that matter. We both need time to adapt."
She finally relents with a tense nod, turning on her heel and effectively stomping out. It hurts, but I’m right and wounded feelings won't change that.
"We really are glad you're home, Emma," David says quietly, making my throat hurt with repressed tears, and he quietly steps out to close the door behind him
In locking the door, I move slowly enough to not crack my knuckles as I throw the lock behind them. Then I just stand there with my hand and head resting on the cool wood, trying to reorient myself to the silence that is not really silence that is Storybrooke and this familiar living space.
Even sounds seem a bit off, like my additional height has altered how sound waves get to my brain. Things smell weird and my clean clothes and these surroundings are luxurious and disorienting. It's going to take some time just to move past living in that forest, killing my own food, running from impossible creatures and evil things.
Both craving and fearing the solitude, I carefully creep back upstairs and collapse onto my squeaky bed. After roughing it for so long, it feels strange and almost uncomfortable. Being trapped in this gigantic, foreign body doesn't help. Exhaustion eventually pulls me under, offering me some solace for now.