Beane Odette - Reawakened - A Once Upon A Time Tale

— 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?