#and when he returns to morgana its just. complete and utter darkness

[punkxcalibur]

beloved regicide-commiter

[thetimelesscycle]

Tales of Arcadia Wizards Fanfiction: Hope Dies Last - Chapter 9

The Guardians of Arcadia grapple with the loss of yet another Master Wizard.

Zoe and Claire hatch a new plan.

A/N: I return!

A week later than I had planned, but I digress.

Turns out I spent my holiday actually working on some of my original pieces, which means this little project got set aside in favour of works that have been neglected for far longer. I intend to try and keep working on those stories going forward, so updates for this fic may not be quite as regular.

We'll still get there in the end, though. ;-)

Enjoy, TTC

Chapter 9

For Want of a Wizard

Like all wizards, Claire had been born with her abilities. They had always been a part of her; A silent power thrumming beneath the surface without her ever having been aware of it. It was strange to think that, were it not for Jim becoming the Trollhunter and pulling her into the wonderful world of trolls and magic, she might never have realised what she was capable of. She had pulled off her fair share of miracles since then, and it hadn’t even been a full year since the first time she’d used the Shadow Staff. Part of that was definitely luck — she’d been given a headstart thanks to Morgana’s attempt to steal her body, and the Shadow Staff itself had seemed to guide her in its own way long before that — but the rest had all been instinctual. Magic just felt right in the same way that being on stage had always come naturally to her, though it wasn’t until she met Douxie and the hedge wizards of HexTech that she realised how rare that kind of intuitive casting was.

All of them were her seniors in age and experience to varying degrees, though Zoe and Douxie easily outstripped their peers on both counts. She’d been given the impression when she asked that there was an unhappy reason so few wizards of their generation were still wandering the world today. She hadn’t asked again, more than capable of filling in the blanks even without a front row seat to history, and not wanting to waste what precious little of Douxie’s time she was able to claim for herself.

It was a calculated risk, making the trip between Arcadia and the Master Wizard’s new hideout, even infrequently and via the Shadow Realm. Unfortunately, they hadn’t been given much of a choice. The Arcane Order was still at large and Claire needed training beyond that which a hedge wizard could provide; Even a centuries old, very skilled hedge wizard. Douxie might not have been able to use Shadow Magic himself, but he’d learned the majority of his own skill the same way she had — through a sometimes painful process of trial and error — and was more than capable of steering her away from what might cause trouble. He was also an adept translator of the book she had taken from Morgana’s rooms, and she went to him for explanations even after he and Zoe had each set time aside to help her learn to read the tome’s contents herself. She found it easier to follow his directions than try and comprehend the words on the page, and with time set firmly against them the sooner she could learn to do more than open portals and create illusions the better.

Technically speaking, she had done more than that when she had fought to save Jim, but it had all been wild, desperate, and exhausting. She needed to learn how to do those things deliberately, and without pouring more of her energy into each spell than she could safely get away with. It was frustratingly difficult sometimes, even with Douxie’s relentless encouragement and stout belief that she was capable of anything she put her mind to. He’d laughed when she’d admitted as much, freely pointing out she’d picked up a whole lot considering she hadn’t yet had her magic for a fraction of the time Morgana had. She’d wanted to argue, not because she didn’t think he was being honest, but because for a moment her mind had completely tripped over the short passage of time that had passed since this whole adventure started. 

They had accomplished so much in such a short amount of time. The Eternal Night. Gunmar. Morgana. The search for the new Heartstone. The return of the Arcane Order. Jim and Toby had been at it only a few months longer than she had, yet, somehow, between them they had been involved in saving the world no less than three times. Surely, surely those adventures could not have taken place over a single year. But they had, and Douxie’s gentle amusement at her impatience had reminded her that her chosen teacher had spent nine centuries learning his craft and had still only just earned his staff.

That had put things into perspective.

So had watching Arcadia burn.

She was not a stranger to battle anymore. Even if she didn’t count the various, small skirmishes she’d taken part in there had been the Eternal Night and the Battle of Killahead Bridge to introduce her to the horrors of this millennia long war. Young though she might be, she knew what it was to stare death in the face. To stand on a pitched battlefield knowing you were outnumbered and outmatched and choosing to fight anyway. But even Gunmar had only wanted to conquer the human world — the Arcane Order wanted to burn it all to the ground — and it was there, standing in the midst of the calamity they had caused, that she most keenly felt her lack of experience.

Even without the soulless husk of Arthur to support them, the Arcane Order had them outmatched. They weren’t invincible — Deya had landed a hit on Bellroc at Killahead, and apparently caused some serious damage — but they had replaced their lost pawns with an army formed of what seemed to be every magical creature they could hold beneath their sway. She didn’t even recognise all of those swarming the streets, despite the hours she had spent pouring over Blinky’s bestiaries. There were shadow mephets, nyarlagroths, goblins, and hellheetis alongside countless others. She thought she saw a gruesome briefly out of the corner of her eye, and the stars above were blotted out by the winged outline of at least three stalklings.

It was madness, utter and complete, made all the worse by the innocent bystanders caught in the midst of it all. The three of them had been given the unenviable task of rescuing as many people from the heart of the battlefield as they could. Claire’s shadow portals were the only reliable way to transport people safely in and out, with neither the airship nor the Hextech wizards able to risk getting close to the Arcane Order themselves. That was Douxie’s role, and Claire hadn’t been able to argue when he declined her offer for assistance. Her skills were needed elsewhere, and she’d already tested her strength against the Orders and been found wanting. Douxie had promised he would manage. He’d smiled and gripped her shoulder and she’d let him walk away like a fool.

“Claire?”

The sky was spinning above her, half obscured by smoke as her mind wandered in aimless recollections, dredging up recriminations for a mistake she did not yet realise she had made.

“Claire! Wake up!”

The smoke burned the back of her throat as she unwittingly inhaled it. There was a ringing in her ears, loud and distracting and muffling Jim’s voice as he shook her urgently.

“Are you alright? Claire?”

“I’m fine,” she said, or thought she said. Her own voice sounded like a whisper, her hearing still as distorted as her vision. She coughed, her bruised sides protesting the motion, her lungs screaming for fresh air. “I’m fine. What—”

If Jim answered her she didn’t catch his reply, but he did help her off her back into a sitting position. His face was blackened with soot and streaked with blood from a dozen small cuts. No doubt she looked just as battered. Judging by the rubble surrounding them, half a building had come down with Bellroc’s last fireball. Still dizzy, she leaned against Jim a moment, trying to get her bearings, trying to gather her wits because now was not the time to lose focus.

The ringing in her ears was fading, replaced by what sounded like screams. Not sounded like, she realised, was. The smoke had parted behind them, so that when she and Jim whirled to face the source of that dreadful sound they were both given a clear view of the battlefield once more. Of her teacher — her friend —on his knees at the Arcane Order’s mercy.

“No!”

‘Magic is emotion’, Douxie had told her, something she had always known but never fully understood. Not until she was forced to embrace her fear or be rendered helpless once again. It wasn’t fear she was feeling when she staggered upright, bleeding and still choking on smoke; It was absolute, white-hot fury, and her magic reacted accordingly. The shadows took on a will of their own as soon as they left her hand, the energy torn from her fingers to join the violent maelstrom their battle had created. What she had meant to be an escape route turned instead into a whirlpool of darkness that dragged anyone and anything in the vicinity into its heart.

It should have calmed once they reached the other side, like diving beneath the surface of a pool in the middle of a storm. Unfortunately, she had unwittingly brought the Arcane Order along for the ride, and found herself emerging into chaos. Magic roared around her; Raw, unbridled, and dangerous. She couldn’t see anything, the clashing forces spinning her in circles and blinding her to both friend and foe. She could hear screams, voices she recognised, and a slow, swelling chant that settled sinisterly at the back of her mind, reeking of ill intent.

It was terrifying, but so was everything else they had faced today, and she wasn’t about to be the reason they didn’t make it out of this alive.

Giving up on righting herself, ignoring the chips of ice slicing through bare skin and the flames nipping at the edges of her hair, she let the whirlwind carry her where it would, pouring all of her focus, all of her energy, into locating her friends. She wasn’t Nari, she couldn’t simply sense the soul of any living thing, but she could picture the one’s she cared about clearly in her mind, imagine the shadows wrapping about them all in a protective blanket, and yank them to safety.

The landing was rough. They emerged from too high and crashed against the floor in a tangle of limbs and weapons. Claire had the breath knocked out of her when Krel landed on her back, a stream of what she was fairly certain were Akaridion curse words falling from his lips as they disentangled. She paid no attention, crawling on hands and knees towards the two among them who weren’t moving. Archie was closer, and she paused beside the small dragon, fingers seeking and finding the shard of ice that had felled him. She could feel the dark magic that infused it, an enchantment too complex for her to try and dispel on her own. She tugged the shard free instead, her fear easing a little when it did not resist, and watched with bated breath as the frost that had spread from its impact slowly began to melt. Archie’s wing twitched as the invisible layer crumbled away, and she nearly choked on her relief, hastily shoving the familiar into Jim’s arms as she turned to Douxie.

“Teach?”

He’d fallen face down without making any attempt to catch himself. She could still hear the screams Bellroc had been ringing out of him when they’d done... whatever it was they’d done. With a shaking hand, she reached to turn him over. There was no resistance; He rolled limply onto his back, skin pallid and face still, blood streaking the side of his face from a nasty gash on his temple. His chest had been branded with a strange rune that looked like it had been burnt directly into his skin, still bright in places, like hot embers in a dying fire.

She placed her fingers at his throat, searching for some sign of life as she pleaded under her breath, “Come on, Doux. Don’t do this again.”     

There was no pulse that she could find. She tried to convince herself not to panic. This had happened before and he’d been fine, despite the fact the fall alone should have killed him. She just had to trust he could do it again. A minute ticked by, and then another, agonisingly slow and all too fast at the same time.

“He’s breathing, right?” Toby was behind her, Jim on her other side, still carefully cradling Archie. “Tell me he’s breathing.”

“I don’t…” she moved her hand to his chest, careful of the brand as she felt for the rise and fall that would indicate life. “I don’t think he is.”

“I could not hold him.” It was a fragile whisper, and Claire looked up to find Nari crouched on Douxie’s other side, staring at her own hands as if they had betrayed her. “I could not... I was not strong enough.”

“What did they do?”

Nari startled, lowering her hands as she lifted her eyes to meet Claire’s frantic gaze. “They have destroyed his soul. I tried to stop the spell, to hold him together, but I could not... I could not...”

“No.” She shook her head, denial rising. “No. There has to be a way to fix this. I can—”

“Guys!” The exasperated shout came from the other end of the dark cavern. Claire looked up to see Steve running towards them, Blinky a stride behind. “What is taking so long? We gotta move!”

The gyres. Of course. Their escape route. Their means of ferrying an entire town of people out of danger as quickly as possible. It had been her job to get everyone here safely, and she had failed.

“Great Gronka Morka!” Blinky had reached them, shoving his way through the circle they had unwittingly formed. “What happened?”

“No time for that,” Jim interrupted, moving Archie’s weight to one arm so he could reach down and pull Claire to her feet. “Steve’s right. We’ve got to move before the Order realises where we’ve gone.”

“But—!”

“We’ll figure something out,” he promised, stepping aside to let AAARRRGGHH!!! collect their fallen friend. “Just not here. Come on.”

Stumbling, she let herself be pulled along. The battle had exhausted them all, she could see it in the faces of those running alongside her, but they couldn’t stop yet. Douxie had been clear on that. They needed to get out and away, or the Order would just keep on coming. If they could. She didn’t know if Skrael or Bellroc could control the Shadow Realm now that Morgana was gone. No doubt they were powerful enough to find a way even if the magic was not in their repertoire, but leaving them trapped within its boundaries might buy a little more time.

Jim was leaning on her almost as much as she was leaning on him when they reached the gyre, his stamina not what it had once been as a half troll. Their sorry group piled on one after the other as Blinky wrestled with the controls. AAARRRGGHH!!! braced himself in the corner as they took off, cradling Douxie’s limp form gently to his chest. Claire found herself watching him as she swayed back and forth with the gyre’s sharp turns, still waiting on a miracle that wasn’t coming. Nari huddled at the large troll’s feet, her arms wrapped around herself as silent tears rolled down her cheeks. She looked devastated; Claire hadn’t yet moved past numb.

The station was crowded when they arrived, filled to overflowing with frightened Arcadians and equally unsettled trolls. These people had faced the Eternal Night and Alien invasion, only to be left shell shocked by an ancient order of wizards marching in without warning to burn their town to the ground. She could hear Dictatious shouting somewhere amidst the crowd, trying to ferry people to where they were meant to be as if he could actually see what was going on. Her parents were somewhere in that mess, as was her brother. Douxie had been adamant they get their families to safety before joining the fight. He’d sworn he could handle the Order for as long as they needed.

He’d lied.

The guilt was an old companion, a heavy weight bearing down on her shoulders as she disembarked. They drew attention. Human or troll, people knew Jim, and AAARRRGGHH!!! was much too large to pass unnoticed. Even if very few of those present knew who Douxie really was, they seemed to recognise that something terrible had happened. The crowd parted without prompting to let them pass, battered bodies shuffling out of the way and then watching them hasten by with curious eyes.

All except one.

“Zoe...”

Claire trailed off before she had even begun, the words dying on her tongue. The hedge wizard had clearly raced to reach them, her chest still heaving from the dead sprint she had just stumbled out of, dust in her hair and rips in her shirt that had not been there the last time they had spoken. There was a wild look in her eyes that had nothing to do with her battle-worn state, and Claire stepped aside, tugging Jim with her, as Zoe staggered forward. Static energy crackled behind her as she walked right up to AAARRRGGHH!!! and his precious burden, the large troll crouching lower to allow her near.

Without missing a beat, she leant across Douxie’s prone form to grab a hold of his singed shirt. “Hisirdoux Casperan, you are not going to pull this nonsense on me again!”

The answer was, predictably, silence. Zoe waited a beat longer, then her eyes flashed down to the burning rune. “What is this?”

“The Arcane Order…” Nari answered meekly. “Bellroc turned his soul to ashes.”

Zoe went a shade paler, her voice sharpening to a verbal razor. “His soul?”

“I tried to stop them.” There was an apology and regret both in those words. “I failed. I am sorry.”

“No.” Zoe’s hand turned into a fist, Douxie shirt still clutched within her fingers. “No, that’s not good enough. I haven’t spent centuries helping Archie keep this idiot alive for it to end like this. You were a part of the Order, you must know a way to fix this. They brought Morgana back. Twice.”

“Morgana’s soul was still intact,” Nari explained, shrinking a little more with each word. “Even if I could still sense his spirit on this plane, I cannot complete the ritual alone.”

“You’re not alone,” Claire interrupted, earning the attention of both her fellow spellcasters. “You have us, Nari, there must be something we can do.” The tiny sorceress looked up at her helplessly, her lips parted without words, and Claire felt her own determination wavering. “Please.”

“Come.” Laying a supportive hand on hers and Jim’s shoulders, Blinky started them moving again. “We should find somewhere quieter to discuss this.”

Suddenly hyper aware of all the eyes on them, Claire let herself be led, finding and grasping Jim’s hand tightly in her own. They left the crowded chamber, passing by the glowing doorway where the new Heartstone rested; A triumph she had all but forgotten in the wake of all that had followed. Holding aside a thick curtain of fabric, Blinky ushered them all within the comparative privacy of his new library, then hastened to clear room on the table for AAARRRGGHH!!! to set their fallen comrade down.

The large troll did so with care, folding Douxie’s hands across his stomach. It reminded Claire entirely too much of Merlin’s tomb, and she tore her gaze away to watch Jim settle Archie into place beside his wizard. The familiar was still under the influence of whatever dark magic had been locked within that icy shard, though the paralysis seemed to have eased somewhat, his eyes no longer staring blankly into the distance. He still wasn’t conscious, and Claire thought that was probably a mercy right now.

“What the hell happened out there?” Zoe was still choosing anger over any of the other emotions she might be feeling, standing rigid with her arms folded as she searched the faces of those gathered in the room.

“We were too slow.” Jim spoke, and Claire tried not to flinch. She had been too slow. If she had been able to evacuate the town faster, Douxie wouldn’t have been trapped facing the Order alone. They’d been overrun, yes, by mephits and stalklings and all manner of dark creatures, but that was no excuse. She should have found a way. “Skrael hit Archie, and then...”

He trailed off. Scowling, Zoe moved to check the familiar herself, Nari clambering up to perch atop the table beside Douxie’s head as she did so. The small sorceress reached out as though intending to touch him, only to snatch her hand back at the last second with a guilty flinch. “This is my fault.”

“It’s nobody’s fault.” There were tears pricking at the corner of her eyes; She refused to let them fall. “The Arcane Order did this, and we are going to make sure they don’t get away with it.”

She didn’t care how. Enough was enough. She wasn’t going to lose anyone else to these monsters. Never, ever again.

“He can’t be dead.” She hadn’t realised Steve had followed them until he started speaking. “Don’t wizards like, turn to ash or something when they die?”

“That would require his soul departing to the next realm.” Blinky, one of only three in the room with the authority to comment, offered his knowledge. “Without that, I fear our wizard friend may remain like this forever.”

“What? Really?” Steve blinked, giving their fallen friend a sidelong look. “That’s… that’s just creepy.”

“One of the many mysteries of magic,” Blinky shrugged, turning to Jim. “I must go and make sure everyone is getting settled in alright. You’ll call, if you need anything?”

“Of course.” Jim nodded. “Can you let mom know we’re here?”

“Right away, Master Jim.” Blinky bustled out, AAARRRGGHH!!! shuffling behind him, and the room was plunged back into a heavy silence.

“What about Archie?” Claire couldn’t stand it, and spoke in spite of her shaking voice, “Is he going to be okay?”

“I don’t know what this enchantment is,” Zoe admitted, running her hands over the familiar with a gentle care that was at odds with the fury still radiating off her. “Curses aren’t exactly my specialty, but one of the others might be able to help.”

“I will go ask.” As eager as any of them to have something to do, Krel bolted from the room.

“And Douxie?” Toby pressed. “Is there some sort of wizard guidebook on soul reconstruction too? Some sort of relic we need to find? Some spooky, dark lair we’ve gotta sneak inside? Oh, oh! Maybe Gatto has something that would help?”

“Nari?” Claire kept her eyes on the forest guardian, the only one among them who had any true understanding of the magic that had been used here. “How do we fix this?”

“I know of no magic capable of restoring a soul once it has been destroyed.” Nari shook her head, her own gaze fixated on the unmoving wizard in their midst. “There are spells, rituals that might help if a fragment had survived, but I cannot sense any part of Douxie still with us.”

“You couldn’t sense Jim either,” Claire reminded her. “But he was still there, in the Shadow Realm.”

“Then that’s where we’ll start.” Zoe made a decision, stepping away from the table to stand closer to Claire. “We are not letting it end like this.”

“You can’t go alone.” Not about to be left out, Jim added, “The Order might still be there.”

“You stuck the Arcane Order in the Shadow Realm?” Zoe gave her a look that was equal parts bemused and impressed. “Douxie really has been training you, hasn’t he? You’ll have to ask him about that nyarlagroth he stuck in Limbo one day.”

“I will,” she promised, holding that fragile thread of hope for all it was worth. “As soon as we get him back.”

[snowbellewells]

Face to Face in the Broad Daylight /// Chapter Seven

Hello Everyone!  I feel truly awful to have left you hanging on my @cssns​ werewolf sequel for so long.  I’m hoping that all of you who were enjoying it haven’t completely forgotten what was happening. Anyway, finally I come bearing an update that ties up a lot of the story threads, and after this there is only the happy epilogue left!  I never meant to string it out like this, but you should have the last installment by next week!

Thanks once more to my artist @branlovestowrite​ for the beautiful fic cover!

I’m including the story summary and link to it from the start on AO3, especially because it has been a while and readers might need to refresh their memories on where we left off!

Summary: Here we have a sequel to my werewolf, alternate season two and beyond fic from last year’s CSSNS. You probably want to read that story "Run to Me (in the Dead of Night)" first, or it might be a bit confusing in places. This second story in the same universe partially exists just because I wanted to revisit these couples and enjoy a bit more of their fluffy happily ever afters. However, we may also see them get into some new surprises and challenges, and of course we need to see if Rumplestiltskin is still under control or back to his usual scheming and plotting....

From the beginning on AO3

~ chapter seven: what once was mine

“Emma! Help her, please!” Graham’s frantic voice pulled Emma back to focus on the present crisis. He was crouched at his love’s side, gathering her tiny form as close to him from off the cold, bare ground as possible - clearly torn between brushing her hair from her slack face, trying to watch for further danger, and being sure some help was coming all at once.

Emma was almost startled to see her boss and friend in his familiar human form, all wiry limbs and curly hair once more instead of the russet wolf he had been when placing himself between Morgana and the woman he loved; the woman carrying his unborn child. Instead of noting when he had switched back to the genial sheriff she knew, all her focus, all her attention and power, had been trained on the huge flash and buzz and humming pull of energy both to and from the villainous beings before her. For a truly frightening, paralyzing stretch all of the gathered magic of Rumplestiltskin, and each and every Dark One who had come before, had been contained within Morgana, forcing all of them to shield their eyes and stumble back at the sheer wall of power surging outward from where the sorceress had stood, suddenly seeming to tower over them, her long shadow stretching out to encompass every visible inch of ground in view. With sickening clarity, Emma had known as their adversary tranformed before them that this double cross had been Morgana’s intention all the time. While she might once have been Gold’s ally and pupil, she had intended to take his power for herself rather than helping him be rid of the dagger. And she had so very nearly succeeded that the horrifying vision of a monstrous, unstoppable witch harnessing her own powers and those of every Dark One who had come before her, reigning over the fabled kingdom of Camelot and their own world with a iron fist of cruelty, destruction, and terror had been all too real in Emma’s mind’s eye. She could see castles crumbling, kingdoms bowing, and ordinary people enslaved to Morgana’s twisted will with no hope of release. 

Now however, beyond her knowledge or understanding - she hadn’t even had time to try - the evil sorceress was gone, vanquished with a roar of fruitless rage and flash of light. There had barely been time for her stunned eyes to take in the smoky dark cloud of sinister residue swirling into the thick tome where Belle had embedded the dagger, blinking in staggered disbelief, before Graham’s panicked voice and the librarian’s harsh gasps for breath jerked her back to the present. 

Emma wasn’t slow on the uptake, now that her focus was on the remaining crisis rather than their foe. It was clear Belle had been sent into a frighteningly early labor; her body in intense physical distress as a result. But, as much as Emma did possess magic and anxiously desired to help, she had no idea what to do. A wave of helplessness and panic swamped her momentarily, before she surfaced again, realizing exactly what she could manage.

Reaching a hand to rest on Graham’s forearm, trembling with fear for his beloved, she drew his worried eyes to her serious gaze, willing her certainty to infuse him with some sort of confidence in their course. “Hey, hey… Graham,” she pressed seriously, making sure she had his understandably torn focus, coaxing him back. “Are you with me? Listen, okay? I don’t know a whole lot about delivering babies - magically or otherwise - but I do know that Belle ought to be in a hospital, not out here lying on the cold ground. Let me transport us there, and you’ll be in clean surroundings with people who know what they’re doing, alright?”

The sheriff gave her a curt nod of either agreement, understanding, or both, but she could see the dark cloud of worry and self-recrimination gathering on his brow. Though he was clearly bracing himself for her proposed magical travel, and making his best effort to shield and cushion Belle at the same time, Emma could read his fearful churning thoughts almost as plainly as if he had spoken them aloud. Babies, yes, Storybrooke’s small hospital and capable staff had probably managed the births of many just fine, but a human-werewolf hybrid pup? It had been anybody’s guess what that delivery would look like anyway - and that was before the situation had become even more difficult.

Still, Emma knew better than to let the pressure and panic overwhelm her again. She was determined to help them all she could. One task at a time; it was the only way she was going to get anywhere.

Crouching next to her boss, Emma clutched Belle’s clammy, quivering hand, thinking just how tiny her bookworm friend’s petite frame really was. She couldn’t help another nervous flutter of the heart wondering how big the baby was already with its accelerated gestation, and praying Belle wouldn’t be torn apart by something she had wished and hoped for so fervently; that she should live and thrive in. Belle would be such a wonderful mom, and she deserved her chance. She deserved so much happiness after all that she had weathered; Emma figured she had survived enough herself to know.

Thankfully, though it was light, she felt Belle manage to press her fingers in return, once more centering her in the present and what she needed to do first. The grip was tenuous, but as their sprightly little librarian squeezed Emma’s hand in return - still fighting and hanging in there every step of the way, Emma felt hope rekindle that Belle would battle through. With that, she tightened her other hand’s hold on Graham, willing herself not to tremble and broadcast her fears to him any more than she could help. Relief flooded through her as she felt Killian’s large, solid hand rest on her back, linking them and letting her know he was with her, wordlessly soothing and strong. She was going to need him once they arrived at the hospital, Belle was wheeled away, and the rest of the delivery was out of her hands. She didn’t really know how to do anything more, but the waiting, the flagging adrenaline, and coming down from all they had just seen - she knew that she would be a mess if he weren’t there. And she was thankful all over again that he seemed - as always - to simply know and understand that, just as he always had. They were made for each other in a way she’d never even believed in enough to realize what she’d been missing. But she wouldn’t ever want to do without him again.

Remembering what little she had figured out about her magic for certain (and it wasn’t much, with the only magical experts in town evil or the Blue Fairy - whom her mother trusted implicitly, but who strangely unnerved Emma - Emma had been attempting to teach herself as best she could) Emma forced herself to slow her breathing, close her eyes, feel for those she wished to protect, and picture nothing beyond where she intended them to go. Pushing that gathered swell of energy outwards, she sooned sensed dizzying movement beyond her closed eyelids. And when she opened her eyes, they had made it - all of them - in one piece, to Storybrooke General.

They had barely landed and gained their bearings when medical personal rushed toward them, their need clear from the agonizing wails now leaving Belle’s mouth all too clearly. Soon a whole phalanx of nurses and orderlies were whisking her off on a stretcher, Graham clutching her hand and keeping pace beside it until they forced him to let go and stay behind. Emma and Killian could only watch as he trudged back to where they stood in the open reception area.  There was nothing else for them to do but wait...

~~~**~~~**~~~**~~~

Back in the lakeside clearing - suddenly empty and eerily, starkly, silent -  a single person remained, barely standing on his own two feet in shock. The man’s breath rasped weakly from all-too-human lungs, in a way it had not done for centuries. Rumplestiltskin was frozen, shocked and surprised; a state that had become completely foreign after ages of premonition and foreknowledge made surprises rare indeed. The twisted, maimed and spindly legs which magic had made immaterial all these years were barely holding his weight, and he sunk slowly to crouch on the rocky ground at the water’s edge.

The events of the last hour were still sinking in it seemed. Some corner of his brain was already crying out in horror; the rest of his senses struggling to catch up and comprehend his utter ruin. He had become so reliant upon - so addicted - to the immense powers of all the Dark Ones within his puny frame, that the weight of his vulnerability, weakness, and fear seemed near to crushing as the long-forgotten feebleness crept back into his conscious like monstrous shadows across the floor.

Rumple made to stand up again, but found his limbs quivering and drained. Without thinking, he flourished the hand that would summon him his heavy, gold-topped cane, but nothing happened. No cane appeared, not a trace of magic raced through his fingers… only emptiness remained. 

It was then that the full consequence of his devious grasping and false alliance struck home within his breast. Morgana had double-crossed him; he could see now in clear hindsight that it had been her intention from the start to siphon the forces of the Darkness into her own being to at last wreak her own revenge on her half-sibling and claim Camelot for herself - a frighteningly magnificent dark Queen. He had been blinded by his need for vengeance, his believed invulnerability, and not seen the deal that had brought downfall until it was too late. She had paid with her freedom and her very being, now trapped  - for all time, as far as he knew - within the book by Belle’s saving action. Yet, the swift retribution on the one who had betrayed him was cold comfort in the wake of his own punishment.

Rumplestiltskin, the poor village spinner still at heart, was once more what he had vowed never to be again: a crawling, weak, pathetic coward, left to his own pitiful devices to be trampled beneath the heels of those stronger than himself. The fact that Hook and his other adversaries, along with the woman he had once loved, were gone as well, rather than staying to torment him, gave little peace. He was not sure he could even drag himself back to his shop and in from the elements - nor what the point would be in doing so.

It was an interminable amount of time before he could even gain enough support from a stout tree trunk nearby to pull himself to stand. Stooped and wavering, Rumple broke off a large enough branch to use as a sort of crutch and help him hobble forward before collapsing with panted breath on a large rock. Did he even wish to return? Or should he wait for some wild animal or new threat to put him out of his torment and misery at last?

A howl of desperate rage escaped his lips as he let his head fall back in exhausted defeat. The fact that he was finally reaping what ages of his own crooked dealings and treachery had sown was not lost on the former Dark One, but it made the collapse all the more bitter to swallow. He might have even felt the sting of true regret as he began to hobble from the forest… but it was too little, and much too late.

~~~**~~~**~~~**~~~

Somewhere in the halls of Storybrooke’s hospital, as Whale and the rest of his most capable personnel fought for the life of both the tenacious young town librarian and her first child, Belle floated hazily beyond awareness of what was happening around her. Though the moments preceding her descent into unconsciousness had been fraught with fear and horror - the deep desire to prove her worth, to stop her maniacal former love’s quest to destroy all those she held dear - she was ignorant of all that worry and trauma now. It was a fitful state, far from the bliss of perfect rest, but she was no longer aware enough to be troubled by the many cares and concerns which had been weighing on her.

Unfortunately, she was also oblivious to the fact that she was very much in labor. She and Graham’s little one was on its way whether she was awake to push or not, whether it was time or not, and whether or not her body was ready or capable of delivering it safely. As she continued to lie helpless and unaware on the operating table, it became clear that an emergency Caesearean section was the only way to go - and immediately at that.

Whale was snapping out orders with a speed and fervency that most of his staff had never yet witnessed; generally seeing minor falls, broken arms or legs, and stubborn coughs and colds as their main health issues in Storybrooke’s sleepy environment. The fact that in another realm and long-gone life he had been a brilliant and pioneering scientist as well as an accomplished physician - if also an eccentric and a bit disturbed - became more abundantly clear as he continued to fight for the woman on their table, her life in their hands.

Graham, for his part, was going nearly mad outside in the hall where he had been forced to wait with the rest of their friends and family. His rapid pacing and clutching at clumps of his hair, even more curling and unruly than normal from his distraught mistreatment, was nearly enough to make Killian wince and try to warn his new friend to calm down. However, the other wolf managed to bite his tongue and hold the words back. For one thing, such a suggestion would almost certainly be useless. Clearly the sheriff couldn’t relax until they knew that Belle was out of danger. Not only that, but Killian felt it was not his place to tell others how to handle grief or strife (he had never been a very good model of it himself) and beside that simple truth, it would be incredibly hypocritical of him, seeing as how if it were Emma lying where Belle was, fighting to survive bringing a pup of his into the world, and he were in Graham’s place, he would be faring no better, and quite possibly even worse.

Time seemed to trickle by at first, as if the clock in the waiting room were taunting them, the two hands moving at a crawl, just when they most needed them to hurry along. Eventually, Snow, who had arrived with David and Henry in the midst of their wait, accompanied by Ruby, who had already been at the hospital to report on the diner to a recovering and once again tart and no-nonsense Granny Lucas,  to help her carry, went down to the hospital cafeteria to fetch some sort of breakfast for them all. David sat in the chair in the corner, looking resolutely calm, as if he could will things to fall into the proper place simply by projecting assured confidence with enough certainty. He couldn’t very well do much else, as his grandson had fallen asleep sometime around two a.m. and Henry’s dark mop of brown hair was still resting on his shoulder gaining what sleep he could. No one wished to take peaceful rest away from the preteen, whom they still wanted to shield from the worst if possible. No matter how helpful and mature he tried to be, he was still a kid with a child’s innocence and already more involved than they would have preferred.

Yet, as slowly as the minutes had seemed to crawl all through the long night and early morning, just as the stars were beginning to fade in the sky outside the large windows at one end of the waiting room, those minutes also appeared to jolt into motion and rush forward once more when Dr. Whale at last entered the room and made his way toward them. Emma genuinely felt as if her heart was crowding up into her windpipe, stoppering her ability to breathe and pounding against the roof of her mouth. The notorious physician looked exhausted; his shoulders bowed and dark circles beneath his eyes; he seemed disheveled, his hair stood even more wildly on end than usual, as if pulled at or run through in anxiety and frustration so many times it could no longer lie still, and the residue of blood and other materials Emma didn’t even want to consider too closely stained a swath at the front of his scrubs.

He came to a stop before Graham, and Emma tried to mentally prepare herself for whatever his report might be. Watching Graham as closely as she was, she could see that though he was mastering a sort of stoic, calm patience as he stood to receive news of Belle’s condition, his body swayed the tiniest bit - as if the awful words he might hear could knock him off his feet, never to rise as tall and straight again. His whole world rested on what the doctor was about to say, and as steady as he might appear, everyone else in the room with him knew it.

“Sheriff Humbert,” Whale spoke up solidly, reaching out a hand to shake Graham’s, “you’re the proud father of twins. Fraternals - a boy and a girl.”

He paused briefly as the other man’s face positively lit up - joy, relief, pride, anxiousness and love all coming together in his expression as it transformed from the frozen mask of worry and fear it had held for the past several hours. The sheriff returned Whale’s hand clasp, shaking enthusiastically for several seconds before looking over his shoulder at Killian and Emma, and then to David on his other side. “Twins…” he repeated in a stunned sort of awe. “Can you believe that?”

Whale nodded in rather unnecessary confirmation, not seeming at all surprised by Graham’s excitement, nor his immense relief. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get out here with the news, but I wanted to make absolutely certain that Ms. French’s vitals had stabilized and that she was resting comfortably,” he continued seriously, giving Emma a nod of acknowledgement over Graham’s shoulder. “We’re honestly very lucky you had Miss Swan with you, to get her here quickly without allowing any more precious time to pass than it did, nor for Belle to exert herself any more than she had to for the delivery. As it was, those two bundles of joy took almost all she had. It was a lot of strain on such a small frame - and in such a wildly shortened timespan. I had feared I wouldn’t be able to give this promising an update, but she seems to be rebounding better than I could have expected. She’ll need to be careful to allow her body time to heal, take things slowly…”

By that point, Graham was nodding along in agreement with such attentiveness that Whale grinned crookedly; the expression both a bit unnerving and knowing, but which was nevertheless part of his eccentric charm. He chuckled easily and concluded, “But I think I can count on you, Sheriff Humbert, to make sure she does just that.”

Without wasting more time, he gave a few cautions and warnings, and assured Graham that he was free to go and see both his offspring and his partner, as long as he didn’t agitate or overexcite Belle.  It seemed that the feisty woman who had completely captured their Huntsman’s heart needed more rest than she even now wanted to admit. Shaking his head with the sort of amused and doting affection that was clearly going to become habit if they were to spend the rest of their lives together, Graham fervently thanked Whale for all he had done - shaking the doctor’s hand once more, so enthusiastically that the other man’s teeth clacked against each other loudly. Then he took off down the hall toward the elevators at a trot, too anxious to see his little ones and to reach the side of his lady love once again to be able to hold himself back.

Whale shrugged to Emma and Killian, a sort of ‘I expected as much’ expression on his face, and they grinned in return, largely just relieved to know for certain that the worst was over. Offering their own thanks as well as the sheriff’s, Whale nodded to each in turn and then spun on his heel to go back to his other patients and chores.

As his wiry form disappeared around a corner at the end of the hall, Emma at last released the tense breath she had still been holding. It was almost as if she had needed to know that Belle would pull through and there was nothing more she could - or should - have done differently before she could completely relax. Looking up into Killian’s clear blue eyes as she leaned into his side, Emma could see his affection clearly - and drew even more assurance and strength from him. For once, they had gotten the best possible outcome instead of their worst case scenario, as often struck them in the dealings with villains and magic that Storybrooke seemed to instigate. Everyone was going to be fine, and Emma couldn’t be happier - even if she did feel like she needed to hibernate for a month to regain the adrenaline now vacating her body and recover from the fear and shock that had gripped them all from the moment they arrived at the standoff until Whale affirmed that the crisis was over.

“Come, my brave lass,” Killian murmured gently into the downy-fine hair at her brow bone, gathering her closer still and taking the weight she let him bear as she leaned on him more fully. “Let’s go home.”

Emma nodded blearily, already feeling hazy and half-asleep. They paused momentarily to make sure that David and Snow had Henry with them and would bring him by later. All three seemed determined to see Belle and the new arrivals before they left the premises. Emma was excited too - as she knew Kilian was - but they could wait until tomorrow. Right now, she was practically sleepwalking and not functioning well enough to string together congratulations which would make sense. She wanted to transport them instantaneously to her bedroom, but was afraid she might make a mistake in her current state.

Instead, she focused on merely putting one foot in front of the other and let Killian steer her forward, out the doors of the hospital entrance and into the grey pre-dawn light.

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