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sardonic-sprite · 2 years

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Should Have Said...

Whumptober Days 21, 25, 28

Tim squirmed in the chair he was tied to, cursing under his breath, because what kind of paranoid asshole had decided to use zip ties and duct tape?

“If the bonds were escapable, Drake,” Damian droned, sounding bored, “I would have escaped.”

He was seated and bound on Tim’s right, somehow looking haughty and regal instead of small and afraid. He'd given up trying to slip free two hours ago, and Tim really wished the little brat could go back to giving him the silent treatment because his sass was not helping.

“They haven’t even made the ransom call yet,” Tim hissed, still straining to kick his legs free. “I am not just sitting here for another three hours--"

“Four.”

Tim looked up sharply, searching Damian’s face for a prank. “Not funny.”

“Why would I be jesting? You were unconscious for an additional hour after I woke up.”

“And you’re telling me this now?”

“What does it matter?” Damian complained.

Tim bit back a retort. It matters because I have that much less time than I thought.

He hadn’t even bothered to worry about this happening. Well, that was a lie. He’d worried about it, but he’d dismissed it as irrational. Tim was always moving, or always could move. Besides, it had been an aside mention on one website, and ‘missing spleen' didn’t even make honorable mentions in the ‘causes' list for the problem itself.

But your spleen was supposed to filter your bloodstream. Take out things like old red blood cells and platelets. Platelets that helped blood to clot. Platelets that helped blood to clot a hell of a lot faster when you weren’t moving.

“Drake.” Damian sounded almost pitying. “Batman or Nightwing will come to save us soon. Red Hood, even, if we are supremely unfortunate. I do not think we will come to serious harm before we are rescued.”

“You won’t,” Tim muttered.

Damian was silent. Tim kept twisting and pulling at his binds. The tape was starting to get gummy and loose, but the zip ties refused to snap.

“Whatever foolhardy plan you have to attract our captor's violence to yourself,” Damian said, voice higher, tighter, snootier than Tim had ever heard it, “Rest assured it is unnecessary. I can handle--"

“Damian… no,” Tim said softly. He looked over at his little brother’s pinched face and raised chin and abruptly felt guilty. “That’s not what I meant. I mean not how I meant it!” he added quickly, when Damian raised his head higher.

“I am going to protect you if I can, but I didn’t mean— I’m not mad about it. When I said… it didn’t have anything to do with you at all.”

He made sure Damian met his eyes – that the kid believed him – before turning back to dislodging the tape.

His thigh was starting to burn.

“What did you mean then, Timothy?” Damian asked, slow and shrewd.

“I mean I’m gonna suffer brain damage due to boredom,” Tim said.

Come on, come on, come on. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. Maybe they'd be rescued, or it wouldn’t become an embolism, or maybe he was imagining the whole thing.

“You don’t have enough of a brain left to be damaged.”

“Gee, thanks. I love you too, you little shit,” Tim muttered without thinking.

He didn’t even realize what he’d said until Damian croaked, “What?”

“I… I said ‘right back at you, you little shit,’” Tim stammered.

“Timothy, what is going--"

But Tim shushed him. He could hear footsteps coming down the hall, conveniently saving him from having to explain anything and giving him a way to alert Batman, who had to find them soon, because the pain was traveling up his leg and he had to be imagining that it was starting to swell—

“Say hello to your daddy, boys,” said the man holding the phone. Two others flanked him, holding guns, but all were masked, which meant they would in theory let Tim and Damian leave alive…

“Father, something’s wrong with Drake!” Damian hollered.

“What the fu--"

“You little--"

“Tim? Damian, what do you--"

“I’m fine!” Tim yelped, because one of the men had stepped towards Damian, raising his hand. “I pranked him and freaked him out, I’m fine, he’s fine, we’re not hurt, I mean, I could use a bathroom--" (Bat-code for ‘hurry the fuck up, old man,’ as established by Jason) “but we--"

“He said ‘I love you,’ Father,” Damian tattled, shouting over Tim, “to me.”

Tim heard Bruce’s breath catch. The last time he'd told Damian I love you, he’d been shot by Penguin and was in imminent danger of bleeding out.

One of the men muttered, “What the fuck?”

The apparent leader snatched the phone away before Tim could hear Bruce’s words. “If you want ‘em back, Wayne,” he drawled, “You know what we want.”

He hung up, stalked to Damian, who was glaring – “Wait--" Tim tried – and struck him across the face.

“The fuck was that, you little brat?” the man roared.

“It was my fault,” Tim cried. He couldn’t breathe. “Please, I scared him, he--" He started coughing.

“See?” Damian shrilled. “What did you drug him with, you heathens?”

“Not--" Tim kept coughing, his chest was burning, head spinning, and, God, it was hard to breathe. “Not drugged…”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. The kidnappers were yelling and Damian was shrieking, and Tim needed to do something, but he was completely immobile, and that was the whole reason he was fucked in the first place—

“--faking--"

“—shits, I’ll--"

Something warm and wet was trickling out the corner of Tim’s mouth.

“—think someone could fake that, you imbeciles?”

He should tell Damian he loved him. Really, not sarcastically. He should have told Bruce.

“—charged with murder, call the damn--"

Doot.

The world was fuzzy and floaty, but there was a warm weight anchoring him on one side. Voices were speaking, low and choked, and one was definitely angry. A girl made a shush sound and said, “Awake.”

“Timmy?”

A hand brushed his forehead.

“You with us, baby bird?”

Tim hummed. The warmth pressed even closer, and he thought there were fingers fisted in his shirt.

“Oh, Tim…” Someone kissed his forehead.

“Don’t you ever,” came the angry voice, “fucking scare us like that again, you little secret-keeping, spleenless bas--"

“Jason,” Bruce rumbled.

Tim blinked open his eyes to see them all gathered around him. Dick was sitting close, hand still tangled in Tim’s hair. Jason hovered, glowering, over Dick’s shoulder, but his eyes eased when he saw Tim awake. Cass was perched over Tim’s head, and Bruce sat on the bed beside him. The warmth against his side was, miracle of miracles, Damian, clinging to him like he was a life raft in a stormy sea.

“Wha' ‘app'ned?” he rasped.

“What happened,” Damian said, tight and high and imperial, “was you developed a pulmonary embolism due to a deep vein thrombosis because apparently you are missing an entire organ.”

Tim winced.

“Why didn’t you tell us, Timmy?” Dick whispered.

“Tell me you knew yourself,” Jason said. “Or I swear to God, I--"

“I knew.”

“Tim…” Bruce took his hand. “When did this happen, sweetheart? Why…”

Tim closed his eyes again, wishing he could sink through the mattress and never have to see their faces.

“While you were… gone. Got stabbed… they had to take it out.”

“Stabbed.”

“Who's ‘they,’ Tim?”

He'd like to be unconscious again, please and thank you. Better yet, he'd like to wake up and find that everything from taking Damian to the art museum to waking up in the hospital was just a wacky, horrible dream.

“League.”

“I’m gonna kill ‘em.”

“Oh, Tim…”

“Tim!” Dick was suddenly sobbing, bowed over Tim to press their foreheads together. Teardrops landed on his face and in his hair. “Tim, baby bird, God, I’m so sorry! I should—I should have--"

“You were,” Tim murmured. “You were there when I needed you the most.”

Dick pulled away, shaking his head. “Why wouldn’t you tell me,” he whispered brokenly, “unless you… unless you did-didn't trust me?”

“I do trust you, Dick.” Dammit, now Tim wanted to cry. “Listen, I… I knew you’d take it this way, so--"

“So you decided to keep secret a life threatening condition?” Damian seethed, clawing even closer to Tim. “You are an idiot, Drake, it’s a miracle you’re still…”

Tim cautiously extricated the arm Damian was lying on to wrap it around the kid’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he said softly. “But I was handling it on my own, and I was fine--"

“’Fine,’” Jason echoed, sounding furious. “’Fine,’ ‘on your own,’ because apparently, you would rather literally fucking die than inconvenience your family with a little well-fucking-deserved guilt.”

“Jason--"

“No, Bruce. No. For once in all of our goddamn lives we’re going to fucking talk about it. Because every single one of us knew the kid has a fucked-up sense of worth--"

Tim tried to protest but was barreled over.

“And not one of us did a damn thing about it. And if the idiot bastards who took him hadn’t panicked and called EMS, we could be standing around a coffin right now, all because we never explained to the kid that we love him for more than being a perfect little soldier who never needs help or has feelings!”

No one seemed to know what to say. Tim was blinking back tears. Then Dick took a shaky breath and whispered, “You’re right. You’re right, Jay.”

He brushed his hand across his eyes and looked back at Tim, who couldn’t even process all the emotions on his brother’s face.

“You… you don’t have to do everything alone, Tim. And I’m sorry, that I… that I let you think that you did.” He was crying again, silently, and Tim felt tears on his own face. “I should have been there for you, the whole time, not just when… not just when you would have…”

Dick shook his head, unable to speak.

“And I’ve been an asshole to you since forever,” Jason said ruefully.

“I’m sorry,” Damian whispered, tucking his head against Tim’s shoulder. He didn’t elaborate.

“I forgive you guys,” Tim said quietly. “I understand why--"

“Tim, sweetheart,” Bruce said, cupping Tim’s hand in both of his, “the fact that you understand why we acted as we did doesn’t excuse the actions we took. We should have shown you that you can come to us for help, even if we are the problem, and ask us to do better. We should have made sure you understood that you are more important than… than our own emotional comfort.”

Bruce could barely get the words out, like it was fucked up that Tim had ever thought otherwise. Maybe it was.

“I still forgive you,” he whispered, because he didn’t know what else to say.

“It’s more than we probably deserve,” Jason huffed under his breath.

“But we’re gonna do better,” Dick promised. “Starting right now. I promise.”

Tim could only nod.

But he believed them.

#whumptober 2022 #no 21 #no 25 #no 28 #coughing up blood #duct tape #anger born of worry #batman #fic #medical innacuracies #tim drake #damian wayne #tim's missing spleen #hurt/comfort #bad things bingo

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anmylica · 1 year

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Chapter Seven: Lamentations of the Damned

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

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Neal sighed and tried to refrain from rolling his eyes at the sobbing woman in front of him. She was the fifth one this week who had died and left a child or baby behind in the Land of the Living. His job in the Underworld encompassed trying to help these women find some sort of peace with their passing and subsequent abandonment (however unintentional) of their children. Neal tried to do the job to the best of his ability, but the truth was he wasn’t a psychologist and had no idea what he was doing.

He also tried not to remember that he, himself, had done the same thing in dying and leaving Henry behind.

He also tried not to fixate on how his awful decisions had led him to betraying Emma and leaving her, though he knew that, by the end of things, he and Emma had reached an understanding and an acceptance of the events and their effects. For better or for worse, Emma had finally found it in her to move on from his betrayal, and he finally accepted that he had lost her forever. Neal hoped she found her Tallahassee with someone who could be there for her and support her in a better way than he had. In spite of himself, he also hoped that Killian Jones had made good on his vow that he was “in it for the long haul” with Emma; if he hadn’t, then Neal would gladly give him a punch in the face the next time he saw the pirate captain. And if that next meeting occurred here in the Underworld, then Neal would take what he could get.

The woman’s gasping shrieks interrupted his ruminating thoughts, and he jumped at a particularly loud wail. He put the pencil he had been holding down on the desk and tried to give what he hoped was a comforting smile.

“And how do you feel about that?” he asked weakly, and the woman glared at him.

“How do you think I feel about that?!” she shrieked in reply. She took the cup of water he had gotten for her at the beginning of their session that she hadn’t touched and flung it at him. The water soaked his face, running down his hair and into his shirt. He blinked slowly, trying to dislodge the water from where it was trickling over his face, and watched uncomprehendingly as the woman stormed out of his office.

Man, he was really not cut out for this job down here.

Sighing, Neal grabbed a tissue and wiped off his face as best he could, cursing when it balled up and fell apart, leaving pieces in his goatee. He put his pencil in the holder, put his papers back in the file, and got up to put the file back where it belonged. Then he gathered his personal belongings and left the office that, in the Land of the Living, belonged to Dr. Archie Hopper.

Throwing his satchel over one shoulder, Neal quickly left the office and made his way down to The Rabbit Hole. He desperately needed a beer (or maybe something stronger). Once there, he threw open the door and quickly descended the steps into the bar. He sidled up to the counter and sat down, glancing around him out of a long-ingrained habit of scanning for exits (just in case). He nodded to the bartender, who threw a bar towel over his shoulder and came around to take Neal’s order.

“What can I get for you tonight,” the man asked in a lightly accented voice. Neal absentmindedly wondered where in the Enchanted Forest the man had once lived, and if it had been close to where he had lived as a child.

“Let me get a beer on tap,” Neal responded. The man nodded and went to fulfill Neal’s order.

The man delivered the glass and Neal thanked him, taking a sip of the beverage. “Leave my tab open, would you? I might need something stronger after this.”

“Stronger?” replied the man mildly. “Must have been a hell of a day,” he noted.

Neal laughed deprecatingly. “That’s putting it mildly. Hades picked a good punishment job for me, I’ll tell you that.”

“I, as well. I hated drinking when I was alive, and now, here I am, serving it to anyone who orders.” Both men laughed.

“I’m Liam,” the bartender offered.

“Neal,” Neal replied and they shook hands.

“So what is it that Hades is having you do?” asked Liam.

Neal took another drink of his beer before he answered. “I’m counseling women who’ve died and left children behind in the Overworld.”

Liam grimaced. “That’s a hell of a job. Why’d he pick that one for you? Any idea?”

Neal gulped down more of his beer. “I think I’m ready for that something stronger before I answer that. Give me a shot of whiskey. I don’t care which.”

Liam nodded and went to fulfill Neal’s order. When he had poured the shot, he handed it over wordlessly and watched as Neal drank it down in one swallow. Liam remained silent as Neal took a few sips of the beer to wash it down.

“I abandoned the mother of my son when she was pregnant with him,” Neal stated bluntly.

Liam’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “That’s one hell of a crime.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know she was knocked up at the time. And that’s not even the worst of it.”

Liam’s brow furrowed. “I hate to know what the worst is, if that’s not the worst.”

Neal huffed a chuckle. “I let her take the fall for a crime I committed when I abandoned her.”

Liam gaped at Neal. “Then I reckon we know what your unfinished business is. When she arrives, you’ll have to tell her how sorry you are.” Liam frowned. “You are… sorry, right?”

Neal shook his head and smiled. “We already made our peace. Nah, my unfinished business is my son. And I hope it will be a very long time before I see him here to make it up to him.”

Liam nodded in understanding. “If you don’t mind my asking, why did you abandon them in the first place?”

Neal sighed. “Well, you see, that’s complicated. I found out she was a long lost princess from the Enchanted Forest who was destined to break a curse that was cast, and that the curse came from my father, and I knew that if I stayed with her, I’d have to see him when it came time for her to break it.” Neal shrugged. “So rather than see him again, I left her.”

“And seeing your father again was bad because…?” Liam prompted.

“He broke a deal we had and abandoned me,” Neal responded casually and took a sip of his beer.

Liam leaned against the bar and crossed his arms, staring at the man across from him, wondering if he had heard the explanation right.

Neal glanced up from the sip he had just taken and caught Liam’s eye. He hastily swallowed and said, “Hey, don’t look at me like that. It made sense at the time.”

Liam shook his head. ”I’m not sure that could make sense to anyone. How could you profess to love someone and then leave them just because you’re too afraid of a confrontation?”

Neal’s face turned red. ”I wasn’t afraid of a confrontation!”

Liam’s face adopted a skeptical expression and quirked an eyebrow. “I know a thing or two about terrible fathers. My little brother and I were abandoned by our father shortly after our mother died. He didn’t manage to teach us much, but he did leave one maxim for us. He always said that a man who was unwilling to fight for what he wanted deserved what he got.”

Neal looked at Liam and frowned, wondering why that sounded so familiar to him, but before he could ponder upon it, Liam continued.

“Did she ever take you back?” Liam asked.

Neal shook his head. “No, I think she actually had fallen for another man by the time she had forgiven me.”

Liam nodded his head but didn’t reply. What could he say about another man’s misfortune that would comfort him?

Silence fell between the men, and Neal finished off his beer. He felt a little unsettled, but he couldn’t think of any particular reason why he felt that way. He paid his tab, and bid Liam goodbye.

“I’ll be here if you want another drink sometime,” Liam called to Neal just before he left.

Neal smiled and replied, “I’ll be back.” Then he opened the door and trudged out, leaving Liam to the now empty bar.

Emma stared at the woman in front of her, speechless. How was Milah down in the Underworld? Was she here waiting on Killian? Was Killian Jones Milah’s unfinished business? Emma’s already tattered and grieving heart skipped several beats as it plummeted to her feet. She dreaded finding out the answer to that question. She couldn’t even contemplate what Killian’s choice would be if presented with returning to life with his current love or staying in the Underworld with his first love.

Milah frowned as Emma remained speechless. “Are you deaf? I asked who you are!”

Emma blinked rapidly. “My name is Emma Swan,” she replied faintly.

Milah frowned deeper. “What are you doing here, aboard the Jolly Roger?”

Emma cleared her throat. “I’m looking for her captain.”

Milah stared suspiciously at Emma for a moment, clearly contemplating her words. Finally, Milah said, “I haven’t seen him in centuries. What business do you have with him?”

Emma grimaced a tad at the question. “It’s a long story, and not really one I’m comfortable with telling out in the open. Let’s just say something awful has happened, and I need to find him immediately.”

Milan’s expression grew even more suspicious. She opened her mouth to reply, but what she was about to say Emma didn’t know because at that moment, Henry came hurrying down the corridor.

“Mom!” Henry cried. “Did you find him?”

Emma turned to look at Henry at the same time Milah whirled around to see the newcomer. Emma watched as Milah’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Emma’s heart thundered harder in her chest as she realized what Milah must be seeing. Her fears were confirmed a moment later.

“Bae?” Milah whispered, shock and long forgotten hope mingling in her voice to make the name choked and rasped on her lips. “Is that really you?”

Henry looked confused. “Uh, no, sorry. My name is Henry.”

Milah’s face fell, and Emma’s heart clenched at the devastation her face held in that moment. “My apologies,” Milah responded after clearing her throat. “I- I must have mistaken you for someone else.”

She did, but Emma knew why. Milah saw Neal in Henry the same as Emma did. Her fear of Henry’s resemblance to his father had been a part of why Emma had decided to give him up, though it wasn’t the whole reason (in fact, it had been the slightest of concerns in light of her other circumstances by the time Emma had made the decision that she had spent the rest of her life regretting). If Emma understood anything, it was that the regrets of leaving a child (for whatever reason) left scars that never fully healed. Milah’s face showed every one of those scars.

Henry looked hard at Milah for a moment as silence grew awkwardly around them. “Did you call me Bae?” he asked. He looked to Emma for reassurance. Emma nodded once.

Milah smiled briefly. “Forgive me. You reminded me of someone from long ago.”

“As in…. Baelfire?” Henry pressed on, ignoring Milan’s attempts to shrug off the letdown and change the subject. Milah’s eyes widened.

“Do you know of him?” she asked. Emma took a deep breath, knowing this was about to get uncomfortable.

Henry paused, and then replied, “He was my dad. I knew him as Neal Cassidy, though. Who are you?”

Milah’s jaw dropped. Emma winced. Never in a million years did she think she would be in the position of dealing with the mother of the father of her child, but here she was. This definitely had to be Hell.

“Henry,” Emma directed to her son, “this is Milah. Milah, this is Henry.”

Milah turned toward Emma. “How do you know my name? I- I didn’t tell you.”

Emma nodded slowly and took a deep breath. “I know it because Killian has told me a lot about you. He has this portrait of you that he’s carried around. He showed it to me once.”

Milah looked with uncertainty about her. “And this is…?” she pointed to Henry, wanting the answer to the question, and looking as if she dreaded it.

“This is Henry. He’s mine and Ne-” Emma hesitated before changing her response, “Baelfire’s son.”

Milah stared at Emma for a moment. Emma stared back and Henry looked between the two women, confused and concerned at the mood in the corridor. Emma watched as the woman fell to the floor in a dead faint. Emma’s face fell and Henry stared in disbelief.

“Really?” Emma muttered, looking at Henry with a disgruntled grimace. This was definitely not how she envisioned her day to go.

Megara had been in the Underworld for a very, very long time, and in Hades’ clutches even longer. She had fought with Hercules against Hades’ last attempt at taking over Mount Olympus and defeating Zeus, and for her betrayal, she had paid the ultimate price: being ripped away from the love of her life. Over the many centuries stuck in the dungeons of the Underworld, she had long given up the hope that they would ever be reunited (though her love for Hercules still burned as strongly as it had in life).

She had tried every method she could think of to escape, but the labyrinth in the Underworld never let it happen. So she waited in her open cell for the day that Hades would finally send her to the ultimate punishment: oblivion in the River of Lost Souls.

And then Killian Jones came to the Underworld and tried to escape the dungeons through the labyrinth.

Meg pondered on the statement that Hades wanted everyone to lose hope. What did he mean by that? Was Hades planning another attempt on Mount Olympus? He had even more motivation now to topple the gods there than he had had before. Meg knew only too well how dangerous Hades could be when crossed.

She tried to forget what she had heard, but her mind was whirring nonstop, and so she sat up and looked at the arched doorway opening. She felt about as hopeless as it was possible to be, just sitting here and waiting for oblivion. Could that be the key?

It couldn’t be that simple.

Hades would never let the labyrinth down here work in that manner. There had to be another way. Meg shook her head. There wasn’t any use pondering it any further. She was never going to get out of here. She stood and moved to the doorway, pausing to rest her hand on the jamb. She didn’t even want to escape. It would only delay the inevitable. She turned away from the opening.

There wasn’t any reason to ponder this anymore. Her mind made up, she squared her shoulders and turned, striding out of her cell and down a random direction. She didn’t want to escape, but maybe she could explore just a bit. Feeling a resolve she hadn’t felt since facing Hades with Hercules at her side, she sprinted down the corridor, disappearing entirely from view. The corridor melted into a different scene behind her.

Emma and Henry crouched down by Milah’s prone form, observing her with concern. Emma felt for her pulse, relieved that it was steady.

“What do we do now?” Henry asked.

Emma sighed. “We wait until she comes to, Kid. It shouldn’t be long.” Emma started to fan Milah’s face, hoping that this would help.

Henry frowned. “I didn’t think people actually fainted like this.”

Emma chuckled. “She is from the Enchanted Forest,” she responded wryly. “Maybe we’re just built differently in the Land Without Magic.”

They fell silent. Suddenly Henry piped up, “Is she really my grandmother?”

Emma nodded. “Afraid so. Though I never thought I’d ever get to meet her.”

“Is this going to make things complicated?” Henry asked, continuing upon seeing Emma’s prying look, “I mean, because of you and my dad, and her and Killian? And then you and Killian?”

Emma sighed. “Well, it’s no Days of Our Lives episode, but I imagine it won’t be pleasant for a bit.”

Henry snorted. “It definitely sounds like a Days of Our Lives episode.”

Emma gave him a stern look but didn’t get to reply. Milah let out a groan and stirred. Emma and Henry focused back on the woman laying prone. Milah blinked her eyes a bit and groggily tried to sit up. Emma and Henry helped her into a sitting position before they all realized the situation and an awkward silence fell over the group. It was clear that Milah was unsure of why the air was tense, but Emma wasn’t about to try and enlighten her just yet.

Henry cleared his throat. “Um, are… are you alright?”

Milah turned her wide eyes to him. “I’m fine. Are you really Bae’s son?”

Henry nodded. “I am.”

Milah looked confused. “But how are you here? You’re not dead, are you?” Milah’s eyes, if possible, widened further. “Bae! Is he here? Is he-” she stopped, suddenly horrified at what she was about to ask.

“We’re alive, still,” Emma confirmed. “But your son passed away some time ago for us.” Emma winced at the callousness the statement seemed to have, but it somehow fortified Milah, who nodded in acknowledgement though her face twisted in grief.

“Is he here? In the Underworld, I mean?” Milah asked.

Emma hesitated before answering, considering her words and trying to choose them carefully. “I don’t think so, no.” Emma thought back to Neal finding her in her Bug on the boat ride down here in her dream. She felt a surge of anger at the memory of his words that was reminiscent of how she had felt after he had left her in jail. But this wasn’t the time to dwell on his callousness.

Milah stood, and Emma and Henry helped her up. She straightened her clothes and then looked at them.

“Now, why was it you were looking for Killian Jones?” Milah asked.

Emma opened her mouth to say only God knows what in response, but Henry beat her to it.

“We’re here to right a wrong that occurred,” Henry said. “Killian is here by mistake, and we’re going to make it right.”

Milah looked puzzled. “What ‘wrong’? What happened?”

Emma sighed. “It’s too long a story for now. We actually need to get back to the others we came here with. If you want to come with us, we can fill you in when we get to a safe location?” Emma offered.

Milah frowned. “I have to report to work at 3, but I guess I can come for a little while,” she shrugged.

“Great! Then let’s go!” Henry turned and bounded up to the deck, leaving Milah and Emma to clamber after him hastily. No more conversation was shared as they hastily made their way to Granny’s.

David didn’t know what to do to help his wife. Mary Margaret was hunched over, her hands grasping her head tightly, sobbing hysterically. Nothing he did seemed to reach her. He shook her hard, but he got no response.

“Come on, Mary Margaret, snap out of this! What happened to you?! We’ve got to get back to the others!” he half shouted.

Mary Margaret just seemed to sob harder. David cast his gaze on the ceiling of the building, hoping for some idea to spark so he would know what to do. If only Emma…

“Emma!” he breathed. “We just need Emma! Maybe I can call her.” He took out his cell phone, but there wasn’t any reception. David cursed their luck. Apparently the Storybrooke look-alike town could have a replica of everything except their cell service. David put his phone back into his pocket and held his wife.

“Come on, Snow, we need you to snap out of it so we can help our daughter. She needs us!”

Mary Margaret sniffled. “No, she doesn’t!”

David stilled. “What did you say?”

“She doesn’t need us! We’ve just ruined her life over and over again! How can we even begin to presume she needs us after all we’ve put her through? And how can we be good parents to Neal when we’re repeating the same mistakes with him that we made with her?!” Mary Margaret sobbed harder.

David reeled back a bit. “We aren’t making the same mistakes with Neal. And we haven’t ruined Emma’s life. Her life may not have been the easiest before she came to Storybrooke, but she knows she has us now. Mary Margaret, what’s brought all this on?”

Mary Margaret’s sobs slowed for a moment as she told him what happened, her words mangled due to the tears and heaving breaths she had to take. He listened and tried to follow the story as best as he could, but when she got to describe Neal’s appearance, he interrupted her.

“Wait, an adult version of Neal appeared?” David questioned, trying to make sure he understood her.

“Yes!” Mary Margaret reached up to wipe away the tears tracks from her face.

David was silent for a moment. “But that’s impossible. He’s a baby and he’s not even here.”

Mary Margaret shook her head. “I saw what I saw,” she insisted.

David nodded, not quite convinced but not wanting to disregard her experience when he hadn’t been there to see it.

“I’m going to go check the loft and see if Hook is there. Do you want to wait here or come with me?”

Mary Margaret shook her head. “I need a minute.” Her eyes were flat and her mouth was downturned. Whatever it was she had seen, David felt a chill run down his spine at the thought that it had broken her that much.

“I’ll try to see if I can find your bow and quiver too.” David waited a moment, but when he got no response, he turned quickly and unlocked the door. Upon opening it, he realized that coming here had been useless. Hook wasn’t there.

Scanning the surroundings that had sheets strewn over the furniture, he quickly located Mary Margaret’s bow and quiver hanging in their bedroom. He grabbed it and left in a hurry, not wanting to leave his wife for longer than he had to in her state. When he joined back up with her, the tears were gone but her eyes were red and puffy. The flat, haunted look was still present, but she took her quiver from him and hefted over one shoulder and held onto the bow.

David took her hand and they descended the stairs. Exiting the building, they adopted a quick almost jogging pace back to Granny’s where everyone said they would meet. After a few moments, they saw Regina and Robin. There was no sign of Emma or Henry.

“Regina! Robin! Any luck?” David called when the other couple was close enough to hear him.

Regina shook her head. “No, and now we’ve got bigger problems.”

“Like what?” David demanded.

“R-Roland…” Robin started but his voice cracked and tears started running down his face. He stopped trying to speak out of fear that he would completely break down if he uttered the words aloud to his friends.

“Robin, what happened?” Snow asked softly, but all he could do was shake his head helplessly.

“Somehow Roland got down here and now he’s… well, I don’t really want to say it,” Regina finished.

“No,” breathed David. They all lapsed into silence, pondering what this all meant for them now.

“David,” Mary Margaret started, “does that mean that Neal…?”

David shook his head desperately as he responded, “It couldn’t possibly.”

“Wait, what about Neal?” Regina asked.

“I saw him here as an adult,” Mary Margaret responded. “He said I abandoned him by coming down here.”

Regina and Robin stared at her blankly then shared a glance with each other. None of them said it, but they all were starting to realize just how dangerous the Underworld was. None of them voiced the question, but they all knew they were wondering: was this all a mistake? None of them broke the silence that descended on the group as they were left to their own thoughts.

A loud, bloodcurdling shriek sounded over the town to interrupt their musings, and they all looked up to the sky. A black hulking mass was flying in the distance, its bat-like wings flapping long strokes to propel it forward. Its head was pivoting, obviously searching for something (someone?). The four friends stared in disbelief. As it got closer, they saw it spit some sort of acid at a car and watched horrified as the car melted down to nothing but a hunk of metal. They all watched as it spotted them and started flying towards them, still emitting that same screeching cry.

They all bolted in different directions. Regina and Robin hid in an alleyway and Snow and Charming hid behind a dumpster at the front of that same alley. They watched as the flying monster swooped down and spat more acid at them. It flew in circles, trying to get a better angle to spit at them.

“What is that bloody thing?” cried Robin as they ducked down again, trying to avoid the acrid smell and the acidic mucus.

“I have no idea! Mary Margeret can you shoot that thing?” David asked.

He turned and looked at his wife, but she was hunched over and clutching her ears, crying out wordlessly. Confused, he bent down to check on her, but stopped as he heard a voice.

He turned and looked. It was his mother. “What? But how?” David lost track of the screeching monster trying to get at them. The only thing that mattered was Ruth.

“David, I’m disappointed in you,” Ruth said as she shook her head. “I had hoped you would be better.”

“Better?” responded David. “Better for what?”

“Why, for being a father, of course. How could you let your daughter come down here? How could you have left your son? I would have thought you’d have learned something about absent fathers, especially after what happened to yours.”

David blinked rapidly. “I didn’t leave Neal. I’m going back just as soon as we get Hook.”

Ruth smiled sadly, shaking her head. “Oh, no, my son. That’s not going to happen. You’re stuck down here. And now you’ve abandoned your child the same way your father left you.”

“That’s not true,” defended David, but it was a weak defense. Didn’t he have these same thoughts deep down? Didn’t he dread the answer to this question? Wasn’t he just thinking this very thing? The Underworld was a very dangerous place, and he was quickly coming to see just how dangerous.

“But it is,” Ruth insisted softly. “You’re all going to pay for this folly. You’ll be stuck here with no one to blame for your horrid parenting but yourself. Isn’t your son more important than this?”

David’s heart nearly stopped. He looked at his mother, but it was as if he didn’t recognize her. “My son is not more important than my daughter and her happiness. I won’t sacrifice one to save the other.”

Suddenly, a blazing mass of acid nearly landed on David, but he jerked back at the last second. The acid just kept coming, and he covered himself and his wife as best he could, trying to avoid the steaming and sizzling patch. He shielded his eyes, trying to keep splatters out when he detected a blazing white light.

He opened his eyes just in time to see the dragon-like beast hit by a stream of blindingly pure, white light. Emma’s magic. David turned his head quickly to see that Emma was standing about thirty feet away, her hands raised and glowing as if she had just shot magic out of them. Henry looked on in a kind of almost-bored amazement, and there was a woman with dark, curly hair that David didn’t recognize standing watching with bug-eyed fear. David turned his attention to the dragon, which was turning away quickly and flying in the direction of the forest.

“What the hell was that?” Emma demanded. They all gingerly got up and moved towards the Savior.

“You have magic?” the brunette asked in a disbelieving tone.

“Yeah, it's because she’s the Savior. Pretty awesome huh?” Henry responded to her, a smug smile on his face. The woman just stared at him uncomprehendingly.

“It must have been some sort of hell beast,” Regina responded to Emma, ignoring the new presence for now.

“Was it just me, or did it look like it was searching for something?” Robin asked.

“Or someone,” Regina amended.

“Did any of you find Hook?” Emma asked. David noted that the new brunette’s expression showed even more confusion, if that were possible.

Regina shook her head. “Something else has happened,” she stated. “Something terrible. This place is more dangerous than we thought.”

Emma’s face filled with dread. “What happened?”

Regina took a deep breath. “Roland’s dead.”

Emma didn’t respond. Mary Margaret gasped and David closed his eyes in grief and Henry looked devastated. No one said a word for several moments, the severity of the situation sinking in. Then, a clunking noise could be heard. They all looked around them searching for the source of the noise when David realized that something was trying to push the dumpster away from the wall. David and rRobin moved to try and shift the dumpster over.

After a moment, the dumpster shifted enough to reveal a small opening. A woman fell out of it and onto the ground of the alley. Shaking her hair out of her face, she looked up at everyone, finally focusing on David’s daughter.

“Are you Emma Swan?” She asked.

“Yes,” Emma replied slowly, wondering who this was and what she wanted.

“My name is Megara. Captain Killian Jones sent me to look for you. Maybe you know him better as Captain Hook?”

Emma blinked, processing the question. Then she growled, “You better start talking about what you know about Captain Hook.”

#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 25 #silence is golden #”you better start talking”

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