Beane Odette - Reawakened - A Once Upon A Time Tale

Sean became extremely agitated when he heard this information, and he tried to push past his father, who held him back and blocked the doorway.

— What do you mean, disappeared? — Sean said. — Where is she? What about the baby?

— No, — Mitchell said. He turned to his son. — Get inside, we’ll talk in a minute.

— I get it, — Emma said. — You’re the reason. Right? The reason he broke it off in the first place?

Mitchell looked at her like an idiot.

— I had everything set up for that girl. She was set. She agreed. It was all very civil. All she had to do was follow through.

— What do you mean you ‘had everything set up’ for Ashley?

— I mean exactly that, — he said. — I made an arrangement.

— For the baby. You sold the baby. And who’s the buyer?

Mitchell Herman looked honestly confused now, and Emma backtracked through the conversation, wondering what she’d missed.

And then she realized.

— Gold, — she said. — Of course.

— Yes, of course, Gold, — he said. — Isn’t that who hired you? To bring him the baby? I thought you worked for him.

Emma closed her eyes; she should have guessed it all the way back at the diner, when she was talking to Ruby… Ruby, who had known as well. Known everything, and had sent her here to buy Ashley time. The possession of Gold’s that Ashley had taken was… herself. Damn it, Emma thought, turning and running back to the VW.

Inside, she cranked the engine.

— We gotta find this girl, Henry, — Emma said, reversing out of the driveway. — She panicked and she needs our help. She’s running.

— There’s only one road that leads out of town, — Henry said, — but…

— Don’t talk to me about a curse right now, kid, — Emma said. — This is real. She’s running and she’s too far along to run.

Ten minutes later, feeling like she was playing the lead in a bad nightmare, Emma rounded a bend on the road outside of town and saw the bright red of the Camaro’s backside sticking up out of the ditch. She crashed, Emma thought, as she hit the brakes then got out to run to Ruby’s car. Ashley wasn’t behind the wheel, which was a relief, actually. Emma looked up, scanned the woods. She heard the moaning almost right away.

She and Henry found her ten feet past the tree line, sitting on the ground, holding her belly. When she saw them, she looked up, eyes filled with terror.

— The baby! — she cried. — The baby is coming right now!

Emma and Henry sat together in the ER’s waiting room as Ashley delivered down the hall. Emma, nervously staring at her shoes, didn’t notice when Henry looked up from his book and studied her. She wrung her hands and fidgeted, busy imagining what Ashley was going through. Imagining and remembering. She couldn’t believe how close Ashley had come to disaster. A girl like that alone in the woods…

— You’re the only one, — Henry said.

Emma looked up.

— What did you say?

— You’re the only one who can leave Storybrooke, — he said. — All of us are stuck here. You can go if you want. You know that, right?

— What do you mean?

— The rules of the magic. That’s how the curse works. People who are already here can never leave because bad things happen whenever they try to get out of town. You’re not stuck, though. You’re special. You don’t come from here. So you can go. It’s fine, I get it.

She felt the urge to reach out, pull him to her, cradle his head against her chest. To protect him from the things that didn’t make sense. She steadied herself by reaching down and taking hold of the arm of her chair.

— Anyone can go, kid, — she said. — There’s no curse. — She saw the doctor coming toward them down the hall. — And besides, — she added, standing, — I’m not going anywhere. There’s too many lost people around here.

The smile on the doctor’s face told Emma everything she needed to know, even before she heard the details: six pounds even, baby girl and mother healthy and happy both.

— Thank you, — Emma said, the tension easing out of her shoulders. She took the doctor’s hand and shook it. — Thank you so much, — she said. Henry had to be home by five o’clock if she was going to avoid another plumage-puffing session with Regina, and so she told him to gather his things, then crossed the room toward the bathroom. Out of the corner of her eye, through the front window, she saw Mr. Gold approaching the hospital, cane swinging happily. He came in, looked around.

She went to him, took him by the arm, and walked him over to the vending machines.

— You should have told me, — she said. — About the baby. She’s not a piece of merchandise and this whole thing stinks to high hell.

— Ah! — Gold said, delighted. — It’s a girl, then?

— She’s keeping her. You don’t get to choose. She chooses.

— But she already chose, Ms. Swan, — Gold said. — Months ago. We have a contract.

— Then go home and tear it up, — Emma said, — because it means nothing. Not anymore.

They stared each other down for another moment. The tension broke when Mr. Gold bowed his head, an admiring twinkle in his eyes.

— Very well, Ms. Swan. I’ll let her off the hook. But no debt goes unpaid. You’ll have to give me something in return.

— How about a bag of dirty laundry? — she said. — I’ve got one back at the apartment.

— You owe me a favor. One favor, — he said, holding up a finger. — Simple. You like simple, don’t you?

She didn’t like it, but she’d do it.

— Okay, — Emma said. She held out a hand. — Deal.

Together, Emma and Henry drove across town — drove past the diner, where Emma glimpsed Ruby flirting with Billy, the kid with the tow truck. Emma had Henry home by 4:45, time to spare, and she was back at Mary Margaret’s ten minutes later, unsure of what to make of the day. What she did know: She wasn’t going anywhere. She called up Sheriff Graham and told him if the offer still stood, she’d take him up on the job.

— Protect and serve, — Emma said, looking at the clock tower. — I’m kinda good at that.

— You certainly seem to be, — Graham said. — I’ll see you Monday morning, Emma.

Emma was finally settling into Storybrooke. She always liked the feeling of a new town, especially in the early days, when life itself seemed new again and the past hadn’t yet found her. It never lasted. But the honeymoon period was enlivening, electric. It was her favorite feeling.

That Storybrooke was different, a place literally populated by her past in the form of her son, made Emma very aware that she had entered a new chapter of her life now, and that the next steps wouldn’t be the same as before. This scared her. She had only ever had to take care of herself.

But for now, she felt okay. Something that had always been out of whack seemed to have corrected itself in her heart.

Graham showed her the ropes of simple police work, joking (or was it flirting?) with her as he made her aware of all the nooks and crannies of Storybrooke, telling her about the longstanding feuds between various residents.

But she still didn’t know what to think of Henry’s belief in the curse. He talked about it nonstop, and she was still playing along. Whenever he began to discuss it — to tell her, for example, that the reason Marco and Archie were close friends was that Marco was Geppetto, and Archie («Jiminy!») had always been his friend, conscience, and companion — she nodded agreeably and thought: What are you doing, Swan?

Mary Margaret was another story, and a story that was a little more recognizable. She’d fallen for David Nolan, a married man she didn’t even know. Not good. Not good for a whole slew of reasons. She talked about him too much and spent more time at the hospital than she should. He encouraged her visits and asked her to stay late on many occasions. He had even told her that he felt a special connection with her, that he felt like he knew her more than he knew his wife. She’d come home that evening and abruptly told Emma she’d resigned from the volunteer staff, that she «couldn’t go there anymore», which made Emma think that her friend was self-aware enough to make the wise choice. But Emma had seen love and felt love, and she knew what it could do to a person. Her new roommate, who at first had seemed so even-keeled, was coming apart at the seams.