Beane Odette - Reawakened - A Once Upon A Time Tale

In the sky, directly above, she saw a lone dove circling, descending toward her.

Frozen, she watched as it circled down and landed at her feet.

There was a scroll attached to its feet, in a tiny cylindrical satchel. She quickly opened it and read it, and as the words moved through her mind, her heart billowed with both joy and hope.

The note read:

Dearest Snow,

I’ve not heard from you since our meeting and can only assume you've found the happiness you so desired. But I must let you know, not a day goes by that I have not thought of you. And, alas, I am incapable of moving on until I know for certain my love is unrequited. In two days’ time, I’m to be married. Come to me before then. Come to me and show me you feel the same and we can be together forever. And if you don't, I’ll have my answer. But if there is any doubt in your mind, lay it to rest. I love you. Snow White.

For All Eternity,

Your Prince Charming

She looked up, eyes alight. Hastily, she put the cork back in the vial. Tucking the note back into her pocket, she turned and started back down the path she’d arrived on.

She had to get to the castle before it was too late.

Mary Margaret was in the middle of the woods, and she didn’t care whether a storm was coming. She cared about one thing: a bird.

She was determined to get the dove back to its proper place in the world. The idea of a living creature — dove, person, deer, wolf, dog, bluebird, it didn’t matter — being forced into a position that wasn’t right, that went against the true nature of things… well, it was too much for her to bear. She wanted to do what she could.

David had called fifteen minutes earlier and she had refused to pick up, knowing it would inevitably be a mixed signal of some kind.

The rain began with a trickle. Mary Margaret was not far from the road, and she’d found an open pasture with a good view of the sky. From here she could see the flock coming by. She was hoping for a miracle, she knew that, but what else could she do? Her hope was that the flock would be stirred by the rains and would fly south, attempting to avoid the bad weather. If they did, she would catch them here.

She waited for twenty minutes as the rain became more intense. Finally, she heard thunder in the distance and knew that it wasn’t safe to be where she was, not anymore. Soaked and disheartened, she picked up the cage and began the trudge back toward the road. This is insane, she thought. This is desperate and weird and insane. What are you doing?

She didn’t have time to answer herself, however. Just then, lightning struck somewhere nearby, and a powerful clap of thunder made her jump. When she did, she stumbled backward and slipped in the mud. She felt the ground giving out beneath her feet and reached wildly for a thin tree, which she barely managed to grasp. Panicked, splayed out on her belly, she looked over her shoulder and slipped down the slope toward a ravine, her feet dangling below her torso. The rain was now a downpour, and she couldn’t see how deep the ravine went. She was in trouble. Real trouble.

Until she saw the hand reaching toward her.

— Mary Margaret! — yelled David, leaning toward her. — I found you, thank God! Take my hand!

She did, and he pulled her up, and together (with the dove), they ran to a nearby cabin, which David had spotted through the woods. It was locked, and no one was there, so David kicked in the door, and they spilled inside, so glad to be out of the rain. They were both soaked and shivering.

— We need to get you dry, — David said. — Hold on. — He began looking around for blankets, towels, and any dry clothes.

— Whose cabin is this? — she asked. — Do you think it’s okay that we’re here?

— Your roommate is the sheriff, I doubt she’ll care, — he said. He’d found a blanket, and he brought it to her, wrapped it around her shoulders. They were close. Very close.

And then Mary Margaret pulled away.

— Don’t, — she said. — Please.

— I don’t understand what’s wrong, — he said.

— What’s wrong is that I still have feelings for you, David.

David just looked back.

— Why do you think I’m at Granny’s every morning at the same time, right when you’re there? It’s just to see you. I don’t care about being punctual, it’s not a coincidence, I… I just want to see you. And I don’t. And I do. I can’t — I don’t know what to do.

David, throughout this speech, could not help but conceal the faintest of smiles. He looked dazzled, a little confused.

— What? — Mary Margaret said.

— You come at seven-fifteen every morning to see me? — he said.

— Yes, — she said. — It’s embarrassing. Don’t gloat.

He shook his head.

— I’m not gloating.

— What, then?

— I come at seven-fifteen every morning to see you, Mary Margaret, — he said. — We’re doing the same thing.

They both stepped forward then, and embraced. Wordlessly, they got closer and closer, until their lips nearly touched. David’s eyes were already closed when Mary Margaret suddenly pulled back. His eyes opened, a look of confusion on his face.

— How can you do this to Kathryn, David? — Mary Margaret whispered. She thought: How can I do this? This isn’t me.

— What do you mean? — he said. — I’ve told you, I don’t feel a…

— Not that, David. I know. I know.

— Know what?

— I know that she’s pregnant.

It did not produce the reaction Mary Margaret had expected. What had she assumed? Some denial, some kind of rationalization, which she was beginning to see David was very good at coming up with. Instead, though, he looked legitimately surprised.

— What did you say? — he asked.

He doesn’t know, she thought. He doesn’t know she’s pregnant.

Emma tried to track down the «stranger» all day. Someone — some man — had ridden into town on a motorcycle a few days ago, and he was making most of the townspeople nervous. He was also making Regina nervous — enough so that she’d come to Emma and asked her to investigate the man. He’d apparently approached Henry outside of Regina’s house and asked him a number of questions.

For once, Emma agreed with her nemesis. Strangers in town asking odd questions of little boys was not exactly okay. Regardless of the boy. In this case, it was even worse.

No one knew his name, and as of right now, he wasn’t even staying anywhere. He seemed to keep popping up down this street or that street, and on top of that, he had a very mysterious-looking box attached to the back of his motorcycle. She didn’t like the way he lurked.

So far, she had only what she’d started with: He was a lightly bearded man in his midthirties and he rode a motorcycle. He had a certain cockiness about him, but whenever she got close to him, he always seemed to be heading in the other direction. On three separate occasions she’d seen him in town, and each time, when she started moving toward him or called out, something would come up. Either she’d be called away or he would hop on his motorcycle and disappear.

Instead of her finding the stranger, though, the stranger found her. She was sitting at a booth in the diner, trying to think of who he might be, when he sat down across from her.

— You, — she said, looking up, coffee halfway to her lips.

— You’ve been following me around all day, — he said. — I assume you want to talk.

— Why were you talking to Henry the other morning? — she said.

— You mean the little kid who came up to me and started asking me questions? Is that Henry?

Emma said nothing.