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anmylica · 2 years ago

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The Fields of Asphodel

Chapter Nine- Cue Desperate Measures

Tagging the Usual Crew: @kmomof4 @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @tiganasummertree @sotangledupinit

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Here’s the thing: Neal knew not to trust his grandfather. He had been a victim of Pan’s lies and manipulations before this, and he had fallen for them hook, line, and sinker far too many times already (though he hadn’t always known that Pan was his grandfather). He knew that doing what Pan suggested was absolutely going to put him in a position that would somehow be simultaneously the absolute worst thing that could happen for him and the absolute best thing that could happen for Pan. He knew that following Pan’s directions about going to the well was going to result in a disaster of truly epic proportions. It would even probably be on the same level of fuck-up that his abandoning Emma to serve his prison sentence had been.

But dammit all to hell if he wasn’t going to do it anyway.

All Neal could think about since that visit from his grandfather was the letter he had written to Henry after an evening spent trying to drink his feelings of inadequacy and despair away (it didn’t work, but the action made him feel a little better that at least he was going through the motions). He regretted his actions that had torn him away from the son he didn’t know he had fathered for eleven years. He regretted even more that he had fallen for Zelena’s trap and sacrificed his life to resurrect his father. Had he listened to Belle that there might be another way, he wouldn’t be stuck here now in an eerily similar situation to how his own upbringing had been, only with him as the father this time.

He had (badly) counseled another grieving woman, his eyes going to the desk drawer that held the unfinished letter to Henry, when he decided that enough was enough. He closed the office, canceled the rest of his appointments, and pulled his desk apart to find the letter and reread it once more. The office was littered with debris he had scattered from his desk, but Neal couldn’t bring himself to care.

It was several pages long, and written in Neal’s untidy scrawl. It contained all of the apologies he felt he owed Henry and the dreams for Henry’s life that he never got to say. He felt awful that the only legacy he could give Henry now was a letter he’d never get to send and a bevy of broken dreams and empty promises. Henry was his unfinished business that he wouldn’t ever get to resolve.

Only now, if he listened to Peter Pan, he’d have a way to communicate his final words to his son. The thought of Henry not knowing his father had been his biggest supporter was too much for Neal to bear. Grabbing a pen, he scribbled one last thought onto the last page and then rolled it up and stuffed the missive into a plastic soda bottle and screwed the cap on tight. It wasn’t glass with a cork, but it would have to do.

He shrugged on his coat hastily and made his way out the door, moving as fast as he could to the well. He left the rest of his belongings behind, intent upon coming back as soon as he could. He needed to do this, to complete his unfinished business so he could move on. Neal left the town behind as he headed for the trail he knew existed that would take him by the well.

After around thirty minutes of hiking through the decaying forest, getting his feet caught in exposed roots and kicking and stumbling over rocks in his haste, he finally came to the wishing well. He stopped short, surveying the woods around him. In spite of the supposed importance this well had in being a connection to the Land of the Living, Neal was surprised that there seemed to be no barriers or guardians. He took a step forward, proceeding cautiously. He paused, and when nothing happened, moved closer. He continued this cautious approach until he was right next to the well.

Neal leaned over and peered down into its depths. It didn’t look any different from how it appeared in Storybrooke. The water was a bit murky and red tinted, but so was everything down here. It came from Hades’ magic causing a fake daylight that wasn’t really daylight. The brimstone and rock that housed the Underworld cut off the natural light source and influenced the appearance of the available light for the world to present the illusion of home for the denizens of the Underworld.

He took the plastic bottle and considered it for a moment. He also took out Pan’s scroll and held it in his other hand. He didn’t know what his grandfather wanted to give Henry, but he was certain it couldn’t be anything good. Neal slipped the scroll back into his pocket and held the bottle over the wishing well and let go of it. He watched as the bottle plummeted.

He had done it. Neal had actually managed to communicate one last time with his son. He could finally move on in peace. He turned to go back to the town, his mind on going to the Place of Judgement to finally have his soul weighed against his unfinished business when a loud screech echoed closely behind him. He turned around and looked at the sky. His eyes widened at the sight of a solid black hell-dragon in the sky, its wings flapping as it hovered directly above him.

Years of instinct told Neal to turn and run, so that’s what he did. He ran as fast as he could through the undergrowth of the forest, barely feeling the stinging whip of the tree branches against his exposed skin. He ran just as fast as he had that day in New York when Emma had chased him down, only coming to a stop when she tackled him in the street. He didn’t question the instinct that had overtaken him at the sight. He just knew whatever the beast was doing, it was looking for him.

He dodged tree roots, tripping and stumbling over them and protruding rocks, barely managing not to fall. Though he knew not to look back, Neal glanced over his shoulder at the hell-dragon, only to see it lock onto its target and flap its wings back into a dive.

“Oh shit,” Neal muttered, realizing that the target was indeed him. He stopped and ducked just in time as the beast swooped down and tried to grab him. The beast missed him by inches, though Neal didn’t escape unscathed. He grimaced at the claw marks left in his jacket, but a glance at the dragon confirmed that it was already turning around to make a second grab, and Neal knew he didn’t have time to dally around.

He took off running again, desperately sprinting as fast as he could. He huffed and puffed (it had been a very long time since he had had to run like this; he had nearly forgotten what it felt like and resolved to start running every day after work). He tried valiantly to keep up his pace, but every glance backwards told him the dragon was gaining on him, getting closer and closer.

Neal poured everything he had into his sprint. He couldn’t put any more effort into his breakneck pace, and he could feel his body slowing from the exertion. His lungs burned, though they didn’t need oxygen, his legs ached from the strain, and his heart was pounding though it did not beat. He knew that everything he was feeling was an illusion, but he couldn’t break through it. Desperate, he looked behind him one last time.

His eyes off the path in front of him, he failed to see the tree root just in front of him. His foot clipped it mid stride and he fell hard. He rolled through the leaves from the momentum, finally coming to a stop on his side facing away from the dragon. He tried to scramble to his feet, scattering leaves and dirt all around him, but he was too late. The dragon wrapped its claws around him and lifted Neal into the air. He screamed at the sudden change in altitude and at the claws biting into his back and arms and chest. He kicked his legs futilely, but the beast did not let him go.

Neal watched as the Underworld version of Storybrooke grew smaller and smaller in the distance as the hell-dragon flew higher and higher. The claws gripped him tighter, and he felt blood starting to soak through his clothes. He began to feel lightheaded at the sensation; he was never one for donating blood because it made him so queasy. He wondered if his message had managed to even reach his son.

Now he had a sinking feeling that he would never get to know.

The claws sank in deeper, and Neal finally passed out.

Henry had been the fifth child of a king of a small kingdom in the Enchanted Forest, and he had married out of convenience and duty to the throne. He had never been destined for much in terms of leadership or positions of power, and he, as the fifth-born son, had been just fine with that as long as he had been alive. His bride, a peasant named Cora who had claimed the ability to spin straw into gold, had been the one who had thirsted for power. Most of the time, they got along so long as he left her to her devices and scheming and plotting. In truth, being married to Cora hadn’t been easy, for the gods only knew what kind of problems they had experienced during their long marriage, but she had borne him the absolute apple of his eye in his daughter Regina, and if he had let her walk all over him during that time, it had all been worth it to see Regina grow up.

But as he took in the handful of toddlers throwing things and screaming and crying all around him, he had to wonder if his lack of ambition as the fifth-born son was the reason he was in this position today.

A wooden block hit his head and bounced off. Henry, for all the patience he had developed during his life (Cora really had a way of trying it), felt his temper slowly starting to fray. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before turning to the toddler who had thrown the block and crouching down to the boy’s level.

“We don’t throw blocks,” Henry told the boy, trying to affect a gentle yet firm tone of voice. The boy blinked up at him for a moment and then started to let out a wail worthy of the ogres. Henry closed his eyes in exasperation before trying to calm him, but he knew it was no use. The toddlers here had died before they could complete any true development of the mind; they were essentially frozen as they were in life.

He was in the middle of staving off this latest temper tantrum (which seemed to be setting off some of the other toddlers in the preschool where Henry had been sentenced to work as his penance for being unsuccessful in reining in his wife or his daughter) when someone loudly cleared their throat from the door.

Henry looked up and stared. Cora was standing in the doorway, dressed in the rags that he knew she had worn in her life as the miller’s daughter before their marriage. She grasped her hands and waited. He straightened and slowly walked to his estranged wife.

“Cora, what are you doing here?” he asked once he was close enough that he wouldn’t need to shout.

“I’m here about our daughter,” she replied. “It seems she’s in the Underworld.”

His eyes widened. “Regina’s here?”

“Yes, though I’ve heard she’s not dead. Hades is looking for her, and he has something terrible planned for her once he finds her.”

Henry furrowed his brow in confusion. “How do you know this?”

Cora sighed. “I overheard him when I was delivering flour from the mills. We need to find her and make sure she leaves before he can find her.”

Henry nodded in agreement. “How are we going to do that?”

Cora smiled. “By doing this.” She waved her hand and he was transported away from the preschool to the location she wanted him at, leaving the toddlers with the other caretakers who were there in the facility. “Now she’ll have no choice but to do as I want. I won’t let her become another one of Hades’ victims.”

The first thing Neal became aware of was an ache in his chest that was somewhat similar to how it had felt after Tamara shot him. The second thing he became aware of was his head pounding like a drum. The third thing was someone whistling a jaunty, yet annoying, tune.

He opened his eyes and looked around. He was in some sort of cell, with stone walls that rose several stories all around him and no door. Standing in the doorway was a man in a suit with red hair. Though Neal had only seen him once when he had been sentenced to his job, Neal recognized him instantly. This was Hades.

Neal pushed himself up gingerly into a sitting position. His chest ached from where the hell-dragon’s talons had pierced it, and he felt as if he couldn’t take a full breath, but other than that, he had to admit, he had been in worse scrapes than this. Hades watched him struggle with a gleeful grin.

“Welcome to Solitary!” Hades announced. “This is the special place where people who defy me get to spend their time.”

“I haven’t tried to defy you,” Neal protested.

“Oh, haven’t you? I found this in your pocket.” Hades pulled out the scroll that Pan had given him earlier. “Does this look familiar?”

Neal shrugged. “My grandfather gave it to me. He wanted me to pass it on to my kid, but I didn’t do it.”

Hades nodded, chewing his lips as he listened to Neal’s explanation. “You mean you decided to keep it.”

Neal’s face screwed up in disbelief. “Keep it? He tried to kill my son; why would I want to keep anything he would give me or Henry?”

Hades took out the scroll and unraveled it, glancing at the words written on it momentarily. “Maybe because it has instructions on how to leave the Underworld?”

Neal blinked at Hades’ insinuation.

“The only reason you would have to keep this would be to keep the information for yourself. Of course, this would only work if you could return to life, but I imagine this information would be very useful for all your friends back in Storybrooke.”

Neal shook his head slightly. “Well... wait, why would this information be useful to them?”

Hades smiled and his hair erupted into flames. “Take a look for yourself.” He held out a hand as if to show off a brand new car and stepped out of the way of Neal’s view.

Neal looked across to the cell directly across from his. He gasped in horror when he realized who he was looking at. Killian Jones lay there on the cold, hard stone, unconscious and bloody. Neal didn’t think he’d ever seen the pirate that badly injured before in all his time of knowing Captain Hook. Not even in all the years of being trapped in Neverland had he seen the man that bloody, and he had seen the damage the Lost Boys had done to Hook. Neal stared in horror at the man who could have been a father figure to him had life been any different or if fate hadn’t had other ideas. A slow trickle of blood ran down Killian’s face from a wound that looked freshly opened. Neal watched as the blood freely dripped off the pirate’s nose into a small pool on the stone floor. Drip. Drip. Drip.

“What the hell?” Neal whispered once he got his voice back. “What’d you do to him? Why is he even down here?”

“Let’s just say he bit off more than he could chew when it came to being a hero. And now he refuses to accept his fate.”

Neal looked at Hades. The god wore a careful expression on his face, but Neal wondered how devil-may-care Hades actually was feeling at the moment. “Accept his fate?” Neal echoed.

“Indeed. He has these silly notions of being rescued in his head.” Hades chuckled. “I don’t know where he gets them.”

Neal did some fast thinking. If Hook was here, then something had to have happened with Emma. Neal knew Hook wouldn’t willingly leave her side if he had no other choice. But did that mean…?

“Well it’s a good thing you got that scroll, then. It could be dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands,” Neal said.

Hades smirked. “I thank you. But you’re still going to spend some time down here to think about what you’ve done.”

“What I’ve done? I haven’t done anything! You have the scroll there in your hands!” Neal protested, pointing to the scroll Hades held.

Hades tilted his head and considered Neal for a moment. “No, I see it still there in your eyes. You’re in possession of contraband.”

“What contraband?”

Hades took a measured step forward until he could stare into Neal’s eyes. He leaned in close and whispered into Neal’s ear, “Hope.”

A groan could be heard from behind them. Neal looked to see Killian starting to stir, his face a permanent grimace of pain. Hades straightened, a nasty grin on his face.

“Ah! Our friend is awakening! You’ll excuse me for a moment? I need to see if I can persuade our esteemed captain into seeing things my way once more.” Hades left Neal with one unhinged smile before he poofed himself and Hook away.

Neal let out the breath he had been holding. What had happened back in Storybrooke?!

~*~*~*~*~*~

Peter Pan may have been here in the Underworld longer than Rumple, but Rumple had more tools at his disposal than Peter Pan. After Peter Pan had taunted him about knowing Bae’s whereabouts and offering that ridiculous deal, Rumple had used a couple of those tools. He had found out through some simple questions of the Underworld’s denizens (meaning he had threatened some people’s still-living loved ones if they didn’t tell him the information he sought) that Neal Cassidy’s information should have been recorded at City Hall. He had gone there and, using his powers of persuasion (ergo, more threats), managed to find out that Neal’s job had been to counsel newly deceased mothers who had left behind children in the Land of the Living. He also obtained a dwelling address and the address of the office Neal had been counseling inside.

Rumple decided that the first place he would look was the dwelling. After poofing to the address and breaking inside using magic, he saw that the dwelling was nothing more than a place to sleep (or whatever caricature of sleep the dead actually did). There was nothing there. Undeterred, Rumple pooped over to the office in which Bae had to counsel newcomers who had been sentenced to paying their penance. Upon his arrival, Rumple knew that he had finally hit the jackpot. It really was too bad that he hadn’t had more time before having to take his father’s deal, but it wouldn’t matter anyway once all had unfolded.

The office was the exact same as it was in Storybrooke under Dr. Hopper’s care. The same walls, same furniture, same books and papers… Nothing had changed, though Rumple could see signs of another occupant. A used coffee mug sat on the desk, a half-empty water bottle beside it. Pens were scattered on the sofa table, and a notepad with notes scrawled across it sat beside the pens.

Rumple looked at the notepad, recognizing Bae’s messy handwriting that had been formed when Runple tried so hard to teach him to write his letters. He smiled a sad smile at seeing the chicken scratch one more time.

A sport coat that looked to be Bae’s taste hung on the coat rack by the door, and a drawing of a boy hung on the wall beside it. Rumple wondered for a moment why the drawing had caught his eye, but once he moved closer he understood. The picture was one of Henry. Bae must have drawn it shortly after arriving here after his death. A pang of heartbreak struck his chest. Bae would never get to see his son grow up and grow older. He wished for what had to be the millionth time that Bae had left him alone and hadn't tried to resurrect him. Then maybe Bae could have still had a chance to get back to Henry. To be the father that Rumple had never gotten to be for Bae.

But alas. Some things were never meant to be.

Rumple moved away from the drawing and all that it represented. He shuffled through some papers, but none of them held any news on the current whereabouts of his son. He ripped open the drawers of the desk, slamming them shut when they held nothing but staples, paper clips, and other various office junk. He ripped open the last draw, and spying only papers, moved to slam it shut when he looked a little closer.

Catching the drawer before it could shut, he slid it back open and reached inside. He took out a crumpled ball of paper. Using both hands to smooth it out, he scanned the words written on its surface.

It appeared to be a letter of apology to Henry, but parts of it were scratched out. Rumple read the parts that he could, but since the letter was scratched out so much, he really could only scan it. Turning it over, he read the last lines, which hadn’t been scratched out.

I’m sorry for all the pain I caused your mother and you. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I guess it wasn’t. You were the one who suffered for it. Emma and I have made our peace, hopefully, but I never did get to make it with you. I hope you realize that, though I spent only a brief time with you, I love you with all my heart.

I’m sorry I can’t be there to tell you in person. You and your forgiveness is my unfinished business, and Henry, I wish I could be there to earn it. I wish I could get to see you grow. I wish I could be there for all the milestones, but all I can do is write this letter and hope that it one day gets to you. I was told of a way that I might be able to send it, so I’m going to rewrite this into a cleaner version and then try to send it to you. I have no idea if the well will do what it’s purported to, but I have to try.

I’m glad I was able to get to Neverland to help save you. Of all the mistakes I’ve made where you and your mother are concerned, I got that one right. Peter Pan is down here too. He’s the same as ever, though he did tell me to tell you he had “no hard feelings.” I’m glad he can’t ever get to you again. That is at least one thing that helps me to rest easy down here. But hey, I’ll see you again. This isn’t over, and I hope you know that wherever you are, I’m still there. I love you.

The letter appeared as if it had been part of at least another page, but Rumple couldn’t find the other pages. The part about Peter Pan was what caught his eye, he realized, perusing the words again. Rumple wasn’t surprised at all to find evidence that his father had lied about seeing Baelfire down here; in fact, he had expected it. There was something about the part of the well that bothered him, though he couldn’t put his finger on what.

Casting one last look around the office and taking in how scattered and ransacked the place looked, there was one thing that Rumple was sure of. Bae was in danger.

Looking at the door with darkness in his eyes, he knew the best way to get to his son was to persuade Emma Swan to take the case. And he knew just the way to get her invested. With a wave of his hand, he disappeared in a cloud of red smoke and reappeared outside the door of Emma Swan’s house.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Did you know him?”

Neal jumped at the spoken words; he hadn’t expected anyone else to be around. He looked out the doorway and down the hall. A woman with light brown hair and dressed in rags was in the cell next to his.

“Uh, yeah,” Neal responded shortly. “Who- who are you?”

“My name is Megara, but my friends call me Meg,” the woman responded.

“At least they would if you had any friends?” Neal quipped.

Megara gave him a puzzled look. “What?”

Neal chuckled. “Nevermind, sorry. Bit of a bad joke. So you’re Meg, huh?”

Meg blinked. “Yes. Did you know him? Killian Jones?”

Neal nodded. “Yeah, I did.”

Meg tilted her head in consideration. “How so?”

Neal sighed. “It’s complicated. Let’s just say he and I were interested in the same woman at one point.”

Meg nodded. “Who was she?”

Neal chuckled. “You sure do ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”

Meg smiled. “Sorry. I’m not used to having many people around. Not very many people get put into Solitary these days. You must have done something real bad for Hades to put you in here.”

Neal grimaced. “You could say that, yeah.” He leaned his head back against the wall. “Apparently I tried to sneak instructions to my son and his family for escaping from the Underworld.”

Meg’s eyes bugged. “You did?”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here. I had no idea the scroll had that written on it, though.”

Meg nodded in understanding. “I’ve been here since I helped my True Love defeat Hades. It’s been ages, and he’s still punishing me.”

“Didn’t Hades want to overthrow Olympus? Is that how you defeated him?” Neal looked down at his shoes before looking back up at her. She was staring at him in disbelief.

“How do you know that?” Meg asked, amazement coloring her voice.

“Oh, I saw the movie,” Neal shrugged.

“What’s a movie?” Meg looked even more mystified than she had before. Neal was suddenly reminded very strongly of his conversation with Mulan when the two of them were traversing the distance from Phillip and Aurora’s kingdom to his father’s castle in the Enchanted Forest.

Neal stammered. “It’s a kind of story you watch that’s acted out, but that’s not really important right now.” Meg just looked even more confused. “So Hades has had you down here in Solitary this whole time?”

Meg nodded, seemingly letting go of what a movie was but still had a confused look on her face. “I owed him service for helping me, and when I defied him, he decided that this was my penance. It’s been centuries.”

They both fell silent for a while, both pondering the information the other had revealed.

“I spent some time in Neverland,” Neal said, finally getting tired of the silence. “Time stops in that realm. If it had continued, I’d be a couple of centuries old or so. I finally escaped that realm, and I ended up in the Land without Magic. I met this woman, Emma Swan, and we fell in love for a brief amount of time. I left her pregnant with our son, and I eventually came back into their lives when the boy was a bit older. I died after that, but I never got to make amends for leaving him. That’s why I’m stuck here in the Underworld.”

Meg’s jaw dropped as he continued his story. “Emma Swan? You know Emma Swan?”

Neal’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Why? Do you know her?”

Meg nodded profusely. “Killian Jones sent me to find her! We figured out that I could leave my cell for brief periods of time, and he asked me to find her so I could help her find him!”

“He- he asked you to find her? What do you mean? She’s back in the Land of the Living!”

Meg shook her head, smiling. “No! No she’s not! She’s here in the Underworld! She’s with a big group of people looking to rescue Killian Jones!”

Neal stared at her in disbelief. “Emma came to the Underworld to get back Hook?” How could that possibly be? No one could enter the Underworld unless they were dead. How had he not known that she was trying to get down here?

“Yes, I saw her not too long ago!”

Neal continued staring at Meg, his brow furrowing as he thought about the implications. If it were true that Emma was down here, not dead, then that had to mean the Underworld operated on magic, a special kind of magic that couldn’t be breached except by a select brand. So how could she breach it?

“My father,” Neal said out loud. Meg blinked at the change in conversation but didn’t say anything. “He has to be the key. That means Emma was able to defeat the Wicked Witch! And Hook must have died during that conflict, and that’s why she’s down here!” He looked up at Meg, a smile beginning to bloom on his face. “Can you leave here and find her again?”

“I can try,” Meg replied. “I know where she was the last time I saw her; I can go there again and see if I can meetup with her briefly.”

“Then do it,” Neal breathe, “I can try to help her find Hook and get them out of here. Get her back to my son.”

Meg nodded. “I’ll be back soon.” She got up and crept out of the holding cell and down the corridor.

Neal watched her go and hoped that she would find Emma soon so he could finally make peace with his son.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Now that we’ve got that settled, what did you and Robin see, Regina?” Emma asked after Robin had sufficiently looked his fill of his son in the mirror and moved away, cutting the image off.

“We saw a sort of vision of my father and mother being tortured. I don’t know where or why, but I’m willing to bet there is some sort of truth to it.”

“Well add that to the list of things we need to investigate” Emma rolled her eyes.

“We can handle my parents,” Regina replied. “I'll go see if I can figure out where they are and track them down. If I hear any word on Hook, I’ll let you know. Take a mirror with you so I can get in touch. I’m willing to bet our phones won’t work down here.”

Emma nodded, but before she could think of what to do next to find Hook, the front door opened, seemingly by itself. Everyone’s attention turned to it, wondering with varying degrees of dread why the door had swung open.

After a moment, Runplestiltskin sauntered in. Emma let out the bread she had been holding and rolled her eyes. Rumple merely stood there in the threshold, taking in who was present, his only expression at seeing Milah there being a quirk of his eyebrow.

“And I expected the heroes to be out searching for the pirate, not aimlessly huddled inside a house,” Rumple snidely stated as he finally entered Emma’s house as if he owned the place.

Milah frowned. “What are you doing here?” She demanded.

Rumple looked at her and blinked, as if surprised that she would actually talk to him. But that perplexed him less than her presence here did. How exactly did his ex-wife end up with the heroes? And with Emma Swan, no less? Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

He looked back at Emma, though he was addressing the whole group, and said, “I’ve come to lend my services.”

“And be locked into a deal with you? No thanks,” Emma retorted.

“From where I’m standing you don’t have much choice,” Rumple replied.

“We’re doing just fine without your help,” David chimed in.

“Oh, really? Tell me, have you found the pirate yet?” Rumple gazed around the room at everyone, but no one offered an answer in the affirmative, much as he had expected. “Then I think you could use the help.”

“Why do you want to help us all of a sudden? You took off the moment we got here.” Emma crossed her arms, a suspicious look in her eyes as she beheld the man who had betrayed them all.

“Because I would like to get back to Storybrooke and my wife,” he sneered. Milah started at his use of the word wife. He turned to her and smirked. “Not you, Dearie.”

Milah scowled. “I never assumed it was,” she sneered.

Rumple turned back to Emma. “This is what I’ll offer. You help me find someone, and I’ll help you find the pirate.”

“What someone?” Emma asked.

“My son.”

“Bae?” Whispered Milah in shock, but everyone ignored her.

Emma blinked. “Didn’t we already do this?” She asked rhetorically, holding out her arms in exasperation. “I swear, I feel like I already did this with you once. And look where it got me.”

“It would have gotten you a dead pirate hadn’t you helped me then, dearie,” replied Rumple pointedly.

“It looks like I got a dead pirate anyway because of you,” Emma hurled back.

“I said I was sorry,” Rumple waved his hands as if to dismiss his latest betrayal of them all.

“You didn’t actually,” David interjected.

Rumple cast him a withering look. “Then consider it said.” He turned back to Emma and continued, “Bae is in danger. It is mutually beneficial for us to team up to find both of them.”

“Whatever you say, Gold. Neal’s not here.” Emma rolled her eyes and gave him a flat look.

Rumple stared. “Yes he is.”

Emma shook her head. “No, he’s not. He came to me in a vision of some sort. When we were on the boat ride here,” Emma clarified. “He told me he moved on and that I shouldn’t try to do this.”

“He said that?” Snow asked in disbelief.

Emma nodded and replied, “He was very adamant that I was making a huge mistake and that he wouldn’t support it.”

“That doesn’t sound like Neal,” Snow stated.

Emma gave her a skeptical look, but before she could correct her mother, Rumple interrupted. “No, I have confirmation that he is down here. That vision must not be correct.”

Emma sighed. “What confirmation?”

Rumple paused a moment, contemplating how much he should reveal. “I was paid a visit by a common enemy earlier. He told me that Bae was down here being punished for something.”

“Common enemy?” David echoed.

Henry frowned. “Don’t tell me you’re talking about Peter Pan.”

Rumple nodded, and the group minus Robin and Milah groaned.

“Why is he here?” Regina grumbled.

“That’s irrelevant,” Rumple dismissed. The point is, if you help me find my son, then I will stop at nothing until I rescue the pirate. Do we have a deal, Miss Swan?”

Emma scratched her head and ran her fingers through her hair as she contemplated what this new deal would mean for her. “I mean, how much danger is Neal really in down here? I’m sure he’ll turn up at Granny’s or something. Why do we need to look for him?”

“Have you forgotten that he’s the son of the Dark One?” Rumble sneered. “A good portion of the dead people here in the Underworld, I’ve killed. There’s at least one of those in this room currently.”

Milah clenched her fist and her jaw at his words, eyes flashing as she tensed up even more than she had been if that were possible.

“He’s in danger by proxy down here. I’d rather know he was safe.”

Emma narrowed her eyes. Rumple knew she could sense the half-truth in his voice, could hear the Dark One’s twist on the words to reveal just enough without really giving anything away at all. He also knew that Emma was just past the point of being desperate enough to disregard the Dark One lies and tricks and accept his help.

He had his confirmation a moment later when she nodded her head once, terse in her movements, and said, “Fine. I’ll help you.”

Rumple nodded. “We should get a move on. I’ve located Bae’s office where he works down here. We’ll start there.” He turned to leave, but a sound of protest stopped him in his tracks.

“Wait, I thought we were going after Killian, first!” Emma frowned in confusion.

“No, the pirate is not in immediate danger. My son is. We find him, then the pirate.”

Emma nodded, not happy about the circumstances but not seeing a way to convince Rumple otherwise. “Fine, let’s go.”

“Wait!” Henry exclaimed. “I’m coming with you!”

Emma and Rumple both shouted at the same time, “No!”

Emma continued, “It’s too dangerous.”

Henry crossed his arms, a mutinuous expression gracing his face. “If it’s about my dad, I’m coming too. I didn’t get to see him before he died,” Henry added quickly upon seeing the looks on both Emma and Regina’s faces. “It’s only fair that I get to see him, too.”

Emma’s face looked as if her heart was breaking for her son. After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded. “Fine, you can come. But you’re sticking close to me, or I’m poofing you back to Regina. Do you understand?”

Henry nodded.

Milah chimed in. “I’m going with you as well. I want to see my son again, and an extra pair of eyes on this one,” she sent Rumple a withering gaze, “can’t hurt.”

“Uh, I don’t recall inviting you,” Rumple protested.

“Tough. I invited myself. I’m not abandoning Bae this time.”

Rumple sighed an aggravated sigh. “What could possibly go wrong with this?” he muttered, rolling his eyes.

The two glared at each other for a moment.

Emma sighed and put her arm around Henry’s shoulders. “Let’s go, then.” To Henry, she quipped under her breath, “Welcome to dinner with the in-laws.” Henry grinned and they started to exit the house, the Dark One and his former wife trailing behind them.

A loud clunk sounded from just in front of them, and they stopped short. Everyone looked for what made the sound, but Emma knew. She stared down at her feet before slowly bending over. She picked something metallic up from the floor, gingerly, before standing again. Rumple squinted, trying to figure out what she cradled in her hands. She took a deep breath and turned, fierce determination and endless heartbreak glinting in her eyes.

In her hands was a hook. Rumple recognized it as the same one Hook had used as the replacement for his hand, the same one that the pirate had stabbed him with all those years ago on the deck of the pirate’s ship. It was stained with dried blood, the blood so thick in spots it was caked on.

The rest of their companions gasped in horror, minds immediately jumping to what was likely the right conclusion. Milah looked confused, but one look at Emma’s face told her something bad had happened to Killian.

“We have to hurry,” Emma choked out, barely holding back tears. “Killian is in more danger than we thought.”

Emma stood there just long enough for Rumple to recognize the sheer panic in her eyes before she turned and practically ran out the door. He, Henry, and Milah followed after her, though at a slightly more sedate pace.

Unbeknownst to them, miles down below where they were, Hades was watching them in a mirror and smiling with a deranged sort of glee. The jar of hope standing in the corner of the throne room filled a little more from the Savior’s panic. Killian Jones watched the scene and the jar with a cold fury that he hadn’t felt in centuries, but somehow this was worse.

“It looks like we’ve finally figured out what makes the Savior panic, what causes the Savior pain. Oh, I’m going to enjoy this,” Hades said as he waved his hand, signaling to Pain and Panic that it was time for them to carry out their work. Killian watched them leave, twin looks of malevolent expectation on their faces, and he struggled against his chains.

“You won’t win,” Killian spat. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Hades laughed. “Oh, I’ve already won. It’s just a matter of putting the pieces where they go.” He turned and stabbed Killian’s shoulder with a hot poker, causing the pirate to cry out in pain. The jar of hope’s contents raised incrementally. Hades continued to torture the pirate, determined that Killian Jones would at least contribute his pain, even if he wouldn’t give up his hope.

#The Fields of Asphodel #once upon a time #captain swan #captain hook #killian jones #emma swan #ouat #anmylica writes #csff #season 5 fix it #whumptober 2022 #No 12 #What could go wrong?#mayday mayday

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anmylica · 2 years ago

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Chapter 8: The Price We Pay

Tagging the Usual Crew: @kmomof4 @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @sotangledupinit @snowbellewells @tiganasummertree

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Rumple slunk into the library just before 7 o’clock and glanced warily at the shadows in the stacks. He didn’t see the boyish figure of his father anywhere, so he looked around him as he waited. Everything in the library was covered in a fine layer of dust, as if no one had been around to take care of anything. He supposed that the only librarian Storybrooke had ever had would have been the only one worthy enough of being the librarian here. He really missed Belle.

Rumple perused the titles as he waited, but nothing of interest caught his eye. He was beginning to think that this was a waste of his time. Just as he was debating the merits of leaving and still managing to screw over his father, the door opened. In walked Peter Pan in his dark, charcoal gray three piece suit, looking as youthful as ever. Rumple saw through the lie of the facade, that underneath the outward appearance of devil-may-care self-confidence, there was a coward who didn’t want to face what his unfinished business was.

“Ah, Rumple! I’m glad to see you’ve taken my deal.” Pan smiled a cold, unfeeling smile.

“Well how could I pass up information on the whereabouts of my son? You drive a hard bargain, Papa,” Rumple replied, his voice dripping with thinly disguised oil.

“Indeed I do. I hope you won’t be too offended that I’ll need some assurance that you won’t engage in any unsavory business.” Pan shrugged. “It’s not that I don’t trust you son.”

Rumple nodded once. He had expected this when Pan approached him to offer a deal. He had written this “contract” as carefully as he could.

“Of course.” Rumple pulled out a rolled-up parchment that had a red ribbon tied around it. “I trust it will be to your liking?”

Pan rolled out the parchment, reading over it for a moment before smiling widely. Rumple let no outward emotion show on his face, but inside Rumple was relieved. If Pan fell for this ruse, then it would solve several of his problems.

“I do believe we have an accord.” Pan signed the parchment and once the signature was complete, the scroll disappeared.

Rumple waited. Pan shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose you want my part of the bargain now?”

“Indeed. Where is my son?”

Pan shrugged again and shook his head. “I haven’t seen him.”

Rumple sneered. “You lie.”

“Oh, I’m telling you the truth. I haven’t seen him. But word on the street is that Hades has him working some dead-end job that he absolutely hates. I’m sure you’ll see him around if you stay in the Underworld long enough.”

Rumple pointed his finger at Pan. “Our deal was that you would tell me exactly where he is.”

“And I don’t exactly know. I only know what I’ve heard, and that’s that he’s here sentenced to working a dead-end job.”

Rumple scowled. “What dead-end job?”

Pan shrugged. “Who knows? I certainly don’t. I’m not the one in charge of this place, Rumple.” Pan smirked and raised his eyebrows suggestively. “This isn’t Neverland. I can say that I’ve heard he was sentenced to providing help and support to newly departed mothers who have left behind a child. Or multiple children, as the case may be,” Pan added as an afterthought after considering his statement.

Rumple narrowed his eyes as he considered just what his father was up to. Whatever it was, he knew that it only seemed to be nothing more than a game. This time, Rumple was determined that he wouldn't be the one playing.

“And there’s nothing else?” Rumple asked shrewdly.

“There’s nothing else I know.”

Rumple slowly nodded, seeing what Pan wouldn’t reveal outright. “Then I will see you when the next part of our deal comes about.

Pan grinned broadly. “See you around, laddie.” Pan turned and left the library, leaving Rumplestiltskin by himself, with only his thoughts for company.

Peter Pan never failed at getting what he wanted, and what he wanted was to be restored to life. Hades was no fun, always all work and no play. Malcom had given up all that adult nonsense when he became Peter Pan, and he loathed even the thought that this upstart of a God would keep him from being who he wanted to be. He’d show Hades what he thought of the audacity of making him work an adult’s toil. To make sure that he would get what he wanted, he just had to make sure that his son didn’t find Baelfire.

He hadn’t lied when he had told Rumple that he didn’t know where Bae was, exactly. Before this moment, he had only heard a rumor of who the new counselor was to bereaved mothers. He had deliberately waited until this moment to come and see his grandson and lay the foundation to getting what he most desired, and if he had to manipulate Rumple to do it, well, hadn’t he been doing that for all of Rumple’s life? So really, he wasn’t doing anything that he hadn’t already done. None of this was wrong.

He opened the door softly to Bae’s office and peeked inside. Bae was sitting at a desk, writing something in what looked like a file. His appearance was disheveled, his shirt untucked and his hair having that certain kind of greasy wildness it had had for as long as Pan had known the adult version of his grandson. He had a frustrated visage as he wrote and flipped through pages in the file.

“It looks like you could use a break,” Pan said, taking a small sort of twisted pleasure at the jump Bae did. Upon seeing who it was, Bae scowled and turned back to his work.

“Just what are you doing here?” Bae asked, not bothering to acknowledge Pan’s words.

“Can’t I come see my favorite grandson?” Pan countered, not answering the question on purpose. Just because this wasn’t Neverland didn’t mean they couldn’t all play a game, right?

Bae sighed. “You’ve never particularly cared about me before. Why start now?” Pan didn’t acknowledge the truth in this statement.

“Do you ever think about him?” Pan asked. When Bae didn’t answer, he continued. “Henry, I mean,” Pan clarified.

Bae looked confused. “What?”

“I mean what with you abandoning him and his mum. Then dying. It seems to me you would miss him.” Pan shrugged and sauntered over to a bookshelf, picking up a random knick-knack and weighing it in his hand.

Bae glared at Pan as he retorted, “That isn’t yours. And besides, I’ll see Henry again.”

Pan cocked his head to the side. “How do you know?”

Bae shrugged. “Faith.”

Pan was silent for a moment. “What if I told you there was another way?”

Bae looked up through his lashes at Pan. “A way for what?” he asked.

“To see him again. This is the Underworld version of Storybrooke. Everything there is here.”

Bae sighed and put his pen on the desk. “Can’t you ever give a straight answer about anything?”

Pan smirked. “What would be the fun in that?” Bae had no idea, but everything was falling into place. He was doing exactly what Pan wanted. Rumple was going to be in for a treat when he learned of what his father had done to his beloved son.

Bae ignored the question. “Either tell what you know or get out.”

“You’ve grown up to be rather boring.” Pan scowled for a moment. “All work and no play,” he observed. After a moment when Bae didn't respond, Pan sighed. “Have you ever heard of the Wishing Well?” he asked. At Bae’s slight head shake, he explained, “It’s a dormant portal. It’s one of the links between this world and the living, the same as it’s the link between Storybrooke and the Enchanted Forest in the Living Realms. You can communicate with the other side using it.”

Pan paused for a moment, waiting on Bae to catch on to what he was implying. Bae was silent as he took in the information.

Then Pan continued. “You can send him a message. Just drop it into the well and it’ll make its way to him.” Pan turned to leave, but turned back as if he had forgotten something. “And when you do, give this to him from me.” Pan tossed Bae a bottle with a rolled up message inside. Bae only just caught it in his hands, surprised by the action the pseudo-boy had taken. “And tell him I said ‘No hard feelings,‘ will you?”

Pan left the office, closing the door behind him and smirking as he thought about the trap he had just laid for his grandson. Let Rumple double cross him now.

“Answer me, now! Where is he?! How did you come to find him?” Emma demanded, not allowing herself to pause for even a breath.

Meg nodded, a little frightened by how forceful Emma was being. “He’s down in Hades’ dungeon. I’m afraid he’s getting the ‘welcoming treatment.’”

“‘Welcoming treatment’?” David echoed. “What does that mean?”

Milah cleared her throat. “It’s what happens to all newly arrived souls. He prepares them for life down here. Usually through some sort of mental or emotional torture for the wrongs you committed while living, as a bit of a preview for what awaits you if you try to move on without resolving your unfinished business. And then he assigns you a job to do while you wait in a sort of purgatory state.”

Meg nodded in agreement. “The thing is, though, that you can never resolve your unfinished business. Most people don’t even know what theirs is. It would take a special kind of magic to be able to point the people of the Underworld towards knowing it.”

Emma blinked for a moment as the oddity of those words struck her, but she had a more pressing question. “Can you come here without unfinished business?”

Milah shrugged. “I’ve never known anyone to be here without unfinished business. I think those people just usually move straight on to Elysiam.”

Emma blinked and then turned to Meg, trying to put aside the niggle of doubt in her mind at what could possibly be Killian’s unfinished business. She very carefully tried not to look at the brunette who had been Killian’s first love and the woman whose death he had cheated time in order to avenge. “So he’s roughing him up a bit or what?”

“I’m afraid what he’s doing to him is worse than that. It’s not safe for you out in the open,” Meg grimaced in apology.

Although it felt as if her heart was being crushed anew at Meg’s words, Emma knew she had to put it to the side for the moment and take care of the immediate needs, which was finding someplace safe for them to regroup and come up with a different plan. She nodded in agreement and looked at everyone. “How safe is the loft?” she finally addressed her parents.

Snow’s face fell and David took her into his arms. He shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We encountered something, we don’t know what, and it…” David trailed off. “I just don’t think the loft is safe for us to use right now.”

Emma’s brow furrowed at the vibe she was picking up off her parents, but she decided to let it slide for the moment. “Alright. Regina?”

Regina shook her head. “I don’t trust that my home is open for us. It’s technically the mayor’s residence, and I don’t know who the mayor is down here.”

Emma nodded her head again. “Then I guess there’s only one true option for us.” With a wave of her hand, the group all disappeared in a haze of thick gray smoke, reappearing just outside of the Underworld replica of her Storybrooke Victorian. Milah and Meg gaped at her, shaken by their sudden relocation by magic. The rest of the group didn’t look as if they had noticed.

They all stared up at the front door, no one moving or saying anything.

“Do you reckon it’s safe?” Robin ventured to ask, hesitating like all the others after everything that had happened in the Land of the Dead thus far.

Emma took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Only one way to find out, I suppose.” She climbed the steps slowly, the rest following her lead, and she opened the door and stepped slowly inside, observing the front rooms for anything dangerous.

Her living room was in disarray. Her old crib from the castle in the Enchanted Forest and the unicorn mobile took up a large portion of the room, and every inch of the floor was covered in the toys that she had seen from visiting her parent’s castle in her first visit to their kingdom. Emma heaved a sigh. She knew what this was about. She moved to the center of the room and folded her arms, glancing around sadly as the others filed in, staring at the scene before them as well.

“What’s all of this?” Milah asked, a confused look on her face.

“This stuff was in my room in the castle in the Enchanted Forest. It was part of the life I was supposed to have had before the Dark Curse was cast.” Emma picked up a stuffed pirate toy and gave a soft, pained smile.

“Castle? Dark Curse?” Milah echoed.

Emma nodded, but said no more.

“I can fill you in later, Grandma,” Henry added easily, taking the changing situation in stride as only Henry could. Milah looked at him wide-eyed. “You don’t mind if I call you that, do you?” Milah shook her head in amazement.

Regina cast a detection spell over the house, waiting for the red light to reveal any other people that might be there, too. Nothing happened; the house was empty.

“It looks like we’re safe here for now,” Regina announced. Everyone began shuffling the toys and baby furniture around, making room for them all to sit. The couches were draped in canvas cloths to keep the dust off, and they removed those as well.

Emma moved deeper into the living room to grab a sheet off the back of a chair, but she stopped short of reaching it, a strange look on her face. She felt a tugging pull at her navel, heard a strange tinkling sound, and she cocked her head to try and detect it better. Everyone else stopped what they were doing to stare at her worriedly, for no one else knew what was happening, but she didn’t notice. She listened harder. Not a sound could be heard except for the tinkling. It almost reminded her of bells or possibly even wind chimes.

Emma took a step forward, instinct propelling her to move, though she didn’t know where she was going. She couldn’t explain this sensation. It felt like her heart was being pulled out of her chest by some invisible hand, but it didn’t hurt. It didn’t feel like when Cora had tried to take it; that had felt as if she were in the throes of experiencing a heart attack, the horrible feeling stopping only when her magic had rebuffed Cora’s attempts. No, she felt as if her heart was trying to return to a place… a place almost like home…

Lost in her trance as she was, she didn’t realize where she was going until she stopped just in front of her basement door, her hand outstretched to open it. She hesitated, some sixth sense ringing her alarm bells in her head as she beheld the door, and she stood indecisively in front of it. What was down there that was pulling at her so?

“Emma?” Snow called, worried for her daughter. Emma has just gotten rid of the Darkness, and she feared that her daughter was possibly experiencing some lingering effect that the Darkness might have left on her soul.

Emma visibly jumped at hearing her mother’s voice, blinking rapidly. She stared at the door a moment more, but the tugging sensation had ceased and the pealing bells had subsided. She shook her head as if to rid it of her thoughts and turned away from the basement door.

“Yeah, let’s do this. Let’s figure out what we’re going to do next!” Emma moved to sit in the chair she had just uncovered, looking at everyone else nervously. She hoped no one asked her about what had just happened; she didn’t know if it even made any sense to herself.

“Are you sure you want us to help? I don’t want to get in your way or make you feel like I don’t want to help you,” Snow responded softly, a concerned look on her face.

Emma looked at her mom confusedly. “What do you mean?”

Snow swallowed and David grasped his wife’s hand as he realized what Snow’s concern was about. “When we were at the loft, you came to me and told me you were better off without us, that we were holding you back, to put it mildly. I just don’t want you to feel that way,” Snow assured her. Everyone just looked at her in even more concern.

“Oh, Mom, of course I don’t feel that way!” Emma exclaimed, her face falling in misery and sympathy.

Snow sniffed and smiled a watery smile. “Well, I just wanted to be sure.”

Henry piped up, “Wait, you said she came to you at the loft? That’s impossible. Mom and I were together the whole time!”

“I think it might have been whatever magic is at play here,” David replied. He proceeded to tell him what Mary Margaret had experienced. Once David was finished, Emma crossed the room to where her parents were.

“Mom, I promise, I don’t feel that way at all.” Emma hugged her mother tightly, and Snow returned it with equal fervor. “And I promise that my little brother doesn’t feel that way either. He has no reason to.” Snow nodded her head, the tears that had gathered in her eyes falling down her cheeks in relief. Emma and Snow shared smiles, and Emma stood and faced Regina and Robin. “So what happened with you guys? Did you find anything important?”

“I saw my parents in a magical fire in my office. They looked like they were being tortured by Hades,” Regina sniffed. “But we’ll get back to that in a moment. We saw Roland die.”

Emma whipped her head to stare at Regina. “You saw Roland die? How? When?”

Snow and David started, and then they exchanged looks of disbelief and horror. Milah’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t say anything otherwise. She crossed her arms and waited; Meg looked between them all, confused.

“It was Hades,” Robin said. “He came to us after Roland ran into a fire. Said that was my punishment for coming here.”

Emma frowned. “Did he say how Roland got here?”

“No, just that his death was our price,” Regina answered.

“He did say something about wanting us to lose hope,” Robin added.

Emma furrowed her brow and bit her lip. Something didn’t feel right about this situation. There was too much magic in the air around them; she could feel it tingling and prickling her skin. It felt eerily similar to how the Darkness felt when she had been the Dark One, only more primordial and unearthly. And more unyielding.

Meg visibly hesitated. “Well, that’s exactly what he wants.”

Everyone’s eyes turned to stare at her.

“Come again?” Emma asked. “What does who want?”

Meg swallowed. “Hades. He wants everyone to be hopeless. That’s why he’s going after all of you like this.”

David’s brows furrowed in concern. “Do you have any idea why?”

Meg shrugged. “I don’t know why he would want that now. The last time I faced him, it was with my True Love. We barely defeated him the last time, but we died in the process.”

“Was he as horrible then as he is now?” David asked sardonically as he crossed his arms.

Meg smiled a little. “He’s actually gotten worse.”

“Well, then we try to lay low,” Emma said after a moment. “We need to have somewhere safe established. Did you guys get to actually check the loft out, or did Hades keep you from it?” she asked her parents.

David nodded. “I went in there and retrieved Mary Margaret’s bow and quiver. I got my sword too. There was no sign of Hook.”

Emma nodded, half in acknowledgement and half in disappointment. “We just keep looking. For now,” she continued, facing Robin and Regina as Snow, David, and Henry moved to take off the sheets of canvas that were draped all over the furniture in the living space of her house. “Are you sure that Roland is dead?”

Robin sneered, “I saw my son burn with my own eyes! Just what are you trying to insinuate here?”

“Nothing!” Emma exclaimed, holding up her hands. “I’m just trying to figure out what we’re dealing with!”

“Well, there wasn’t anything I could do! I couldn’t get to him fast enough to stop it! He was everything to me, and now he’s gone!” Robin fell silent as heavy, bereaved sobs wracked his body. Regina hugged him, trying to offer any bit of comfort she could.

Emma grimaced in sympathy, but she wasn’t deterred from thinking that something was amiss in this whole scenario. She wondered if she could use the mirror magic and maybe check in on how things were back in Storybrooke. Perhaps she could check just to make sure Roland really was gone? She wandered over to an elaborately carved full-length mirror that was shrouded by the sheet. She pulled it off, concentrated, and waved her hand. Storybrooke appeared within the glass.

By now, she had the attention of everyone. She ignored them and used her magic to try and locate Roland. She finally found him through a mirror in the original Granny’s, and everyone gasped. Robin stood from where he had collapsed to the floor and moved to the mirror, standing so close his nose nearly touched the glass. Roland was there with Little John and a couple of others within the band of Merry Men, slurping a milkshake and smiling as Little John spoke to him. He looked happy and healthy (and very much alive).

“How is this possible?” breathed Robin. “I watched him die; I saw his ashes!”

Emma stepped back a bit from the mirror, making sure to keep the connection stable for the father to look his fill. She said grimly, “I think we need to be wary of how things seem down here. And we should be on our guard in regards to Hades and what he wants to present as real to us.”

Meg stood suddenly. “I should be going. I’m not sure how much longer it will be before the demons down here sense that I’m out of the Labyrinth. I don’t want to put you in any more danger.”

Emma frowned. “Are you sure we can’t do anything more to help you?”

Meg smiled. “It’s fine. I’ve been down here for eons; what’s a few more, anyway? Just… Can you do something for me?”

“Anything,” Emma responded.

“If you happen to find Hercules, tell him I love him? And that I miss him terribly?” Meg smiled a sad smile.

Mary Margaret gasped when she heard the name, but the only one who paid her any attention was David, who sent her a questioning look. Mary Margaret shook her head slightly, and David accepted it. He knew his wife would tell him later.

“Of course,” Emma replied. “But how do you know he’s still here, that he hasn’t moved on?”

Meg shook her head. “The Underworld doesn’t work that way. You can only move on once you’ve completed your unfinished business. Reuniting is our unfinished business. He can’t move on without me, and I can’t move on without him. That’s what it means to be True Love down here.”

Emma nodded understandingly. “Then don’t let us keep you. Good luck getting back.”

Meg reached out to take Emma’s hand into her own, though Emma hadn’t offered it, and clasped it firmly. “Thanks.” With that, Meg walked out of the apartment, intent on heading back to the Labyrinth and her cell within the dungeons. For the first time in a long time, Meg had a funny feeling in her chest. It felt an awful lot like hope.

Killian’s voice cracked as he cried out once more, the pain of the lash he was at the end of becoming almost repetitive. His wounds were bleeding freely, the blood turning that brownish black that it always did in the places where it was beginning to dry to his clothing and skin. Hades had been at this for so long that Killian had lost count of the time that had passed since he was dragged back to Hades’ throne room. His only thought now was about whether or not Meg had overcome her fear and reluctance at leaving her cell to try and deliver his message. He hoped that Emma got it.

He lay trembling against the pillar he had been chained to, his body threatening to give out at any moment. He lapsed in and out of consciousness and was unable to track what Hades was doing. Hades had his hook, and he had used it on Killian in between lashes, carving lines of shallow cuts in a cross-cross pattern that went perpendicular to the lash marks. Killian’s jacket was nearly torn to shreds in parts, offering no protection against Hades’ sadistic cruelty.

“You just have to resist me, don’t you?” Hades drawled as he took a break, looking at the hook, the surface marred by the blood stains covering nearly every part of the metal. “You’ve brought all of this onto yourself. I hope you’re satisfied.”

Killian’s head swayed slightly as he tried to focus on Hades, fighting against losing consciousness once more. He was determined to stay awake as long as he could. “I’ll be satisfied when it’s you on the receiving end of my hook,” Killian grunted out, the effort of retaliating against the god costing him what little bit of energy he had. He slid further down the brick pillar an inch or two, nearly lying prone on the floor.

Hades laughed. “Considering I have your hook, I think it’ll be you on the other end of it. But I have better uses for your handy appendage.” Hades held the hook in the palm of his hand and it disappeared in a puff of smoke. “I do hope your Savior loves gifts.” Hades smiled a sadistic, twisted grin and his hair erupted into blue flames, twisting his expression even further.

Rumplestiltskin didn’t like making any sort of deal with his father, but he knew that he had to in order to make sure Pan’s plans didn’t come to fruition. It vexed him that his father twisted the information of Bae’s whereabouts, but he didn’t need Peter Pan to find Baelfire. Not when he knew where Emma Swan was in this hellhole.

Resolved to coercing her to help him find his son, he poofed out of the library and back into his shop with a wave of his hand. Before he enlisted her help, he had to have something of value to offer her. He needed to nail down the whereabouts of the pirate (or at least determine the most likely location Killian Jones was being kept). It wasn’t good to go into a situation without any sort of leverage, and if there was anything Rumplestiltskin was good at, it was acquiring leverage.

Many of the magical objects he had in his possession were back in the Land of the Living, and thus useless, but he might still be able to find something to help him get a hold of Jones’ location. If only he had something of the pirate’s that he could use for a locator spell…

Rumple shuffled through some of the books that were there on the magical arts, varying shades of darkness inscribed within their pages. He finally pulled one off the shelf that he hadn’t seen before. He opened it to find it was written mostly in Greek. While he had made it a point to study all the most common languages in which spells were written during his centuries of life, Greek was one of those that he had spent very little time on. He didn’t know how to read most of it.

Feeling a small sense of frustration, he flipped through a few pages, peering disinterestedly at some of the illustrations that appeared. It seemed like this was nothing but another dead end. He flipped to one last page and moved to close the book when an illustration caught his eye. It was of a long woven tapestry hanging in a hall. Smirking, he realized just what he was looking at. Though it wasn’t going to provide him with leverage, he might be able to use it to convince Emma to help him anyway. After all, they had to get out of this hell hole once they had the pirate back. This bit of information would help them be able to do that. Waving his hand again, he disappeared in a puff of smoke to try and convince Emma Swan that they each had something to offer the other.

#The Fields of Asphodel #once upon a time #captain swan #captain hook #killian jones #emma swan #ouat #anmylica writes #Csff #season 5 fix it #whumptober 2022 #no 1 #A little out of the ordinary #Adverse effects

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