Beane Odette: Reawakened: A Once Upon A Time Tale

— To Storybrooke, — she said. What else could she do? — You need a ride home to Storybrooke? That's what you're asking. That simple request, is it?

— Uh-huh.

Emma sighed. There was no fighting this kid.

— Okay, then. Let's go to Storybrooke.

She couldn't believe the size of his smile.

Snow White, belly amply swollen with both new life and anxious anticipation, hurriedly followed the jailer through the dark corridor. She and Prince Charming were on their way to speak with the one man in the realm who could answer their question. Snow had not been able to find peace since the Queen's threats; she had to know the truth.

The jailer, a bulky and dyspeptic man, did not like this idea one bit

— Don't give him your name, and here, wear these cloaks, — he said knowingly, passing two heavy hooded cloaks back to the couple. — Your best line of defense is anonymity.

Charming took the cloaks, put his on, handed one to his wife. — Why did I let you talk me into this? — he said to her.

Snow kept pace beside him. She put her cloak on, too.

— It’s the only way, — she said. — You know I’m always right.

— He is right to be wary, m’lady, — said the jailer ominously. — None is filled with more regret than he who’s spoken to Rumplestiltskin.

Charming and Snow shared a look: They were both a little worried at the man’s words.

— I’ll do the talking, — Charming said simply.

Far down the long, dark corridor, the three reached the final cell. No light came from within, and the fire of their torches was the only thing that allowed them to see the ragged bars.

The jailer said, — Rumplestiltskin! I have a question for you.

— No you don’t, — came a bemused voice from the darkness. — They do. Prince Charming and Snow White would like to know whether the Queen’s words should be heeded. Am I right?

— How did you know that? — the jailer demanded. — Who’s been down here speaking to you?

— No one, my good man! — came Rumplestiltskin’s voice. Snow could not see him, but it seemed as though he’d stood quickly. She knew how catlike he could be when he chose. Charming put his hand on his sword.

— 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.