Shatterpath's Rambles

Sophrosyne, Chapter 4

shatterpath — Tue, 01 Apr 2014 14:16:55 GMT

++ Emma ++

(11-6-12)

For two days now I’ve holed up in the apartment that still feels disturbingly foreign to me.

Sorta like this new body.

I’ve been practicing my coordination, unable to ignore my inner drill sergeant, who sounds like Mulan now, amusingly enough. I can almost feel that armored hand smacking me. I miss her.

Endless basic exercises keep away the cabin fever, pushups and crunches and situps teaching me where my body leaves off now. Slowly, my battered body has begun to heal, bruises and cuts fading a bit. There are a few that will take some time, the raw patch above my eyes where I rubbed it bloody on the bars of the cell, my poor hands mauled by my own clumsiness, the shallow sword slice in my arm. There are some nasty contusions all over my body doubtlessly from endless falls to the uneven forest floor. At least nothing is dangerously sore and I’m reasonably certain that I'm not in need of a doctor. I'd feel better if I could sleep without the memories and nightmares; zombies and giant beanstalks and enemies that dissolve into smoke to name a few.

It's weird to be alone here, no Mary Margaret underfoot, no Henry bugging me at all hours about the next Operation Cobra. David has called a couple times, but seems to understand that I still need some time to settle in. Though right now, I’m just feeling lonely and miserable.

A sharp knock at the door startles me and I raise my head up from my pathetic little huddle on the far end of the couch.

"You have about five seconds," Ruby laughs loudly through the slab of wood between us. "To make yourself decent before I come in."

Oh how I want to object, refuse, hide in a corner until the whole damn town leaves me the hell alone. Yet, I really am just piteously lonely without the people I've grown to adore. So I stay where I am, curiously watching the door, listening as a key fiddles with the lock and the door swings open.

"Oh, Em," she says sweetly, flashing those dimples at me. "You look like hell."

It's completely embarrassing and yet a relief that her sweetness makes me tear up like a baby, sniffling miserably. When she wraps her arms around my head, I bawl quietly into her long hair, completely indulging in the outlet. After a long couple of minutes, I mumble into her shoulder, "Missed you."

"Missed you, too. Now, quit sulking and come with me to the diner."

My look of horror as she stands up straight makes her raise a imperious hand.

"No arguments. Granny insists and she will come here with the crossbow and threaten your life if I don't show up with you in tow. Aren't you hungry?"

With my crap coordination I’ve had little but cold sandwiches since returning to Storybrooke and the cupboards here were already pretty bare even before my new man-sized appetite. My traitorous stomach snarls noisily at her suggestion and my mouth waters.

"I can hear that you are," she chortles in triumph and offers a hand to help me up. When I gingerly accept the gesture and unfold myself from the couch, I’m startled by her bold eyes raking over me. "Almost a shame you're such a looker, Swan."

"Almost?"

++ Ruby ++

It's a relief to have her... him banter back, even if it's a weak effort. That the effort was made is the important part. And I sure wasn't kidding about the looker part. At the well, there had been too much going on and he'd been such a mess and such a shock. Now, he looks disarmingly... normal, even if that normalcy is only skin deep. Pain and shock and panic are still bright in the eyes she... he shares with his mother.

"Get your shoes on," I encourage and Emma shrugs awkwardly, like a little kid.

"I... I don't have any."

Really, I could slap myself. Of course he doesn't have any damn shoes.

"Well, go steal David's slippers or something. He must have left half his stuff here after living here so long."

"Just let me throw on an extra pair of socks. I have those."

"Em, you can't walk all the way to the diner in socks."

When that familiar smile, in that wholly unfamiliar face, is fired over his shoulder at me, I nearly stagger back. How disorienting.

"Rubes, I tromped all over that damn Enchanted Forest and down the giant's frickin' beanstalk barefoot or wrapped in rags. I can handle walking to the diner in socks."

Jumpy with nerves, Emma nonetheless follows me into the autumn chill. There are a few odd glances, but word has gotten around and everyone is polite, bringing down Emma's stress a bit.

"You look different," Emma says uncomfortably and I grin... up at him. Also a new experience, as I had actually been the taller one before.

"This is more... me," I try to explain. "We all have both sets of memories now, like Snow. With some time, we've all started piecing all the parts of ourselves together. Regina's curse was very thorough."

Part of me is angry, pretty much like everybody in this town, but part of me just doesn't have the energy to hate her. And plenty of good has happened here in Storybrooke, leaving lots and lots of mixed feelings.

"I guess I really don't know you," Emma muses softly in the now baritone voice. "Guess there's a whole hell of a lot I don't know, period."

He stiffens when I take his arm, but slowly relaxes at the non-demanding contact as we continue on our way.

++ Emma ++

Stepping into Granny's is every bit as awkward as I imagined. But at least it's a best case scenario, what with the stares quickly diverted and the sharp lull in conversation slowly building back up again. No one ran screaming from the building, or pulled out pitchforks and torches. So, it's a win, I guess.

Like her granddaughter, now pushing at my back to make me move forward, Granny's eyes sweep over me, taking in the shocking change. Then she 'harrumphs' humorlessly and gestures to a seat at the counter. "Park it, sheriff. I hear the food back home wasn't to your liking."

There is a smattering of chuckles and I’m guessing the 'barbequed chimera' story has made the rounds. Great, someone will be yelling 'ogre' at me next.

As I gingerly press my oversized body to a stool at the counter, I muse about her calling me sheriff. Another reality I haven't dealt with yet.

"Give it some time," Ruby comments as she appears behind the counter and expertly gets a cup of coffee in front of me. "We've done okay with David so far. Though it will nice having you back where you belong. Let me know if you want any cream with that, hmmm?"

"Thanks, Ruby."

Hope no one heard the grateful lump in my throat at her taking such good care of me. Long minutes pass while I rest my forehead on my clasped hands, inhaling the scent of the hot coffee and this familiar meeting place, listening to the murmur of voices and the bell as someone goes through the door.

Then, the biggest, sloppiest mess of a cheeseburger appears under my nose with enough fries and onion rings to feed half the building. "Jeezus, Granny. I'm not that hungry."

She only smiles like she knows better and hustles off while my stomach informs me that my denial is bullshit. So I wrestle the drippy, painfully hot mess into my big ham hands and take a cautious bite. The burn of salty grease and half-rare beef hits my palate, turning me into a barracuda.

Sanity returns in time and I find myself licking my fingers and humming happily. My belly is as content as a sleepy kitten and I have a little corner to tuck a few fries and rings into. A very smug Granny returns to beam 'I told you so' all over me.

"Marry me?"

++ Regina ++

This is the longest I've been around my son since Charming nearly broke down my door weeks ago and took him from me. All of those long weeks of isolation both calmed me and broke my heart. Then to have to face my Daniel as a monster...

Once again, I push that pain down, a hard knot of devastation like seeing the mine caved in behind this son I love more than my own life. I will not taint my time with him with my own pain. He'd shown up of his own choice this afternoon, startling me beyond words. How glad I was to be sober and dressed like a productive member of society. Not always the case lately.

No one visits me at the house and I have no connections any longer, cooped up for my own safety as well as the town around me. So, the company has been so welcome, all the more so because it has been my Henry. When he had wanted to share a dinner with me, I had caved easily, even if the diner means that I have to share him once more.

In the days since Snow's triumphant return, it's been difficult to remember exactly what happened to Emma Swan. It impossible to forget now, as I follow Henry into the diner to watch the spectacle that is this new man and what appears to be the drippy remains of a cheeseburger.

Firstly, no one should make those sorts of noises in public... or outside of the bedroom. Secondly, the spectacle should not be nearly as fascinating as it is.

Scrubbed clean and dressed in sweats most likely straight from David's plebeian wardrobe, Emma is startlingly normal, in spite of the disquieting sex change. If one looks past the mass of scabs and contusions that litter his pale skin making him look like a survivor from a war that is.

Watching him noisily suckling his fingers clean makes me want to turn and escape the awkward situation, but I won't waste my rare time with Henry. The changed Emma says something to Widow Lucas that makes her laugh and lean over the counter to press a maternal kiss to his forehead.

Then that sweetly embarrassed grin swings our way, morphing into discomfort. That twisted expression cannot disguise his good looks, the handsome face with an expressive mouth, scruffy beard and the eyes that have not changed.

"That looks good," Henry says softly, hesitantly and I’m rocked by the familiar smile in that unfamiliar face. It is that quirk of wry humor that finally shows shades of the woman this was last we saw him.

It floors me.

But seems to reassure Henry, as he steps closer, once again away from me and off to Swan.

"It is," Emma says in an upper baritone that sounds a little rusty. Perhaps still getting used to it? The thought amuses me. "I cannot tell you the relief of eating something that I didn't have to kill first."

"Don't I know it," Widow Lucas chuckles and sets down two plates in front of myself and my son. "Meatloaf back home? What a bitch."

Why am I not surprised to see meatloaf on my plate?

++ Emma ++

The awkwardness is just about killing me, but at least Henry doesn't appear to want to bolt. He even smiles, once we talk a little, and puts a small hand on my arm, as though to prove that I’m real. The innocent touch somehow makes me feel more real.

"Hey, um... Emma. Why are you wearing wet socks?"

Oh, yeah, that.

"Yeah, hey, sorry about the muddy footprints, Granny. I need to get some shoes and probably a warm jacket of some kind. I can't keep wearing my dad's clothes all the time."

The lame stab at humor makes Henry and Granny chuckle, and a twinkle of something warm in Regina's eyes doesn't escape my notice either.

"Mom and I can help you with that."

When Regina and I both stare at the boy, he shrugs.

"Well, she always looks good, right? And makes sure I look okay, too."

"Yeah, okay," I hear myself agree, despite my shock in the offer. There's certainly no arguing that Regina does indeed always look gorgeous and well put together. The woman looks flummoxed, but softens when Henry looks up at her in question.

"Of course, dear," she agrees after a pause. "I'm sure we can be a great help to... Sheriff Swan."

Eager to spend time with my son, I am thrilled with the offer, despite the public nature of it and having to spend more time with Regina. Henry said she saved our bacon at the well and gave me a ride back to town, so it seems logical that making an effort to maintain the truce is worth the while.

I nurse at more coffee while they eat, but refuse a slice of pie. Granny's glower makes me cringe, and promise to come back later to indulge when my belly has room. Several townsfolk stop by to chat and welcome me home, making a real effort to not make me feel like a circus freak.

Granny makes me laugh when she orders me out of my wet socks and hands me a mop to clean up my slightly dirty footsteps on her floor. "At last," I drawl wryly. "A task I can do without endangering myself or others."

"It's a mop, not a sword."

"And my arms are so long now that I don't dare use a fork because I’ll stab myself in the face. There's a reason I’ve been living on sandwiches."

"That, and neither you nor David can cook."

"Yeah, well, there's that, too."

++ Regina ++

Watching the awkward way Swan holds the mop like its going to run away is rather amusing. As is the playful glower he flashes when Henry teasingly points out that he missed a spot. There are such unexpectedly similar things about them, things I would have thought fiction until bearing witness to them. There is clearly something to the nature versus nurture debate, but that still gives no one the right to just take him from me.

Some of that must show past my self-control, because Swan's gaze studies me closely for a long moment, expression shuttered. Then he nods faintly, as though we have come to some sort of secret agreement, and returns to his task.

I wish I knew what that secretive exchange was.

After banging the mop around noisily and with murmured apologies, then nearly tripping Dopey to a quick demise, Granny takes mercy and retrieves the mop turned weapon.

I lean over to stage-whisper near Henry's ear. "Rescue the local populace and bring him along, won't you, dear?"

He seems less startled at my unusual stab at humor than I am, a surprise echoed on Swan's face before he actually chuckles and gestures that we should precede him out.

The three of us get across the street with no incident, but Swan does manage to trip over the low curb with a curse that I can't stop my glare over. Sheepishly, he mutters an apology after a shift of eyes to Henry. When we reach Worthington's Haberdashery, he finally comments, reading off the sign above the door. "Suits, Hats, Ties. Seriously?"

"Just because you are not comfortable with this body, doesn't mean you can't dress the part," I tell him primly and sarcastically gesture at the door Henry patiently holds open.

"Don't look at me," Henry deadpans. "I wear a uniform to school."

Swan's eyebrows climb and I only chuckle. Inside, prissy old Grimsby's eyes look ready to pop out and Carlotta is torn between delight and shock. But they shake it off and usher in their new project, past racks of all manner of clothing and accessories any gentleman would need.

Henry wanders over to look over some colorful sweaters and ties with some small interest and I automatically note which colors attract him. Grimsby distastefully sets aside the battered sweat shirt and Carlotta advances on her quarry bearing the dreaded measuring tape. I know from past experiences with Henry that the pair can be very thorough with their measurements and have embarrassed every male in town.

"Surely, Carlotta, a seamstress of your skill can suffice with just a waist measurement and figuring out how tall he is?"

Why I'm helping out the person who tried to take away Henry is beyond me. The faint thrum of warning in my tone works and the woman makes Swan jump with the slide of the tape around his muscled waist. In only that thin undershirt, it's obvious that his physique is impressive, strongly muscled and firmly toned. The bruises are just as obvious, a riot of them shining darkly through the fabric. Despite my need to stay aloof, I can't help but wonder exactly what happened in our old homeland.

Grimsby uses his long arms to measure from floor to waist, making Swan jump from the touch, then from waist to crown.

"You are approximately five foot eleven, Sheriff. Was there anything in particular that attracts your eye in the shop?"

Shaking off my distraction, I move away. Until Henry volunteers me once again, Swan isn't my concern.

++ Emma ++

I've avoided mirrors. Oh sure, I’ve caught glances of myself, but look away every time. Just glimpses of hair too dark and too short, a scruffy face atop the big, nicely built body. But there's no avoiding the silvered glass in the classy men's clothing store and my reckoning with myself has finally come.

Sound fades away as I stare at my reflection and try to get my head around it. He's a bit more than average height with dark blonde hair, poker straight. It's just long enough to have some fluff and clearly needs a good brushing. The beard tweaks me out, the itchy tickle of it a constant sensation I haven't gotten used to. And it needs trimming again, dammit. Nicely proportioned shoulders and chest and a narrow waist taper down to strong legs and the lump in between I can still barely think about. Beneath the snug undershirt, powerful muscles shift with my movements and my right hand rests gingerly over the six pack beneath. At least this is an awesome new physique and the straight woman I so recently was admires this handsome fellow I’ve become.

"Well, between you and Gramps, at least I know I’ll grow up good looking."

Startled by the dry wit, I stare at a smirking Henry for a moment before my eyes are inadvertently drawn up to meet an equally startled gaze of one formerly Evil Queen.

She chokes on a snerk first and I can feel the humor bubbling up, lifting the corners of my mouth, the expression inexplicably echoed on her beautiful face.

Moments later, we are convulsing with laughter, the sound the best magic I’ve encountered yet. Winded and exhausted from the effort, I rest my hands on my knees and gulp for air before I can straighten up and grin wildly at a very happily smug Henry. Gently reaching out to ruffle his hair, I am suffused with adoration.

"Thanks kid, I needed that."

The couple of staff members have disappeared and I bet this story will make the gossip circles in record time. Regina is pretty much panting and I can hear the strangled noises of repressed humor deep in her throat. A glance reveals that she is even more beautiful now, her face alight with happiness, dark eyes bright with mirth, her smile sincere. It makes my own hilarity bubble up again and I wave a hand at her, turning away.

"Don't look at me! If I laugh any more, I’ll need clean pants. Or I’m gonna throw up and really piss Granny off."

Practically choking, Regina actually retreats and Henry and I share a triumphant moment. That glimpse to a side of Regina I would have never expected will stay with me, of that I have no doubt.

++ Regina ++

Heart racing and belly aching, I stare out the storefront window and feel the startling humor claw at my throat. It's a sensation I can barely name, something so long forgotten that am almost fully ignorant of how it feels. Oh, the last time I heard a laugh like that, low and warm, thrilling me from scalp to toes, my heart too full to contain...

Calmed by my bittersweet memories, I turn to watch the golden child of Snow White. He eyes a vest Henry holds out, but I can tell from here that the yellow highlights will look terrible on him.

"Try something in blue, dear."

Henry nods and goes looking while Carlotta reappears with several lengths of black over her arm and drags Swan to the back to the changing rooms. A moment later there is a yowl of masculine distress and a very flustered Carlotta bustles out.

"Henry, could you be a dear and give me a hand with the sheriff?"

Again, I choke on laughter, made all the more difficult to fight when Henry echoes the sound, his expression amused. Shooing him away, I focus on the rack of warm sweaters, pulling down several. My mind wanders over the recent memories of that physique, imagining details I do not have, colors against that pale canvass...

Clearing my throat a bit uncomfortably-- the laughter has left me parched-- I’m glad to see Henry reappear, still looking completely amused.

"The little zippers are really messing with him, so we had to go up a size so he could just pull them up and close the little metal tab. And he hit himself pretty hard... you know."

"Ouch," I sympathize as best I can and shake my head to cover my distraction and dark humor. Having raised this little man single-handedly, I know exactly what he means. "So he'll need a belt, correct? To keep his pants up? Maybe even suspenders."

"Hey, that's a good idea. How about those fun red ones? Since Emma can't wear that jacket she loves any more."

The hot color doesn't match two of the sweaters I have draped over my arm, but the silvery blue one that first caught my eye might be... jaunty with the red. So, I don't over-analyze for once and hand it to Henry. "Wait. He needs a shirt." My hand falls on a plastic wrapped large, but then I remember the breadth of those sculpted shoulders and that broad chest. "Have him try the extra large for comfort."

Laden down, Henry vanishes into the back again. It doesn't take long for his return, Swan in tow.

"Much better," I approve and he actually looks pleased under the expected embarrassment. The suspenders are indeed jaunty against the pale smoky blue cashmere and the black slacks are casually classy. "Do you want those tailored?"

Really, I have no idea where the sassy humor comes from, but Swan gives me a dry look.

"No, thank you, Miss Fashionista. I’ve embarrassed myself enough. At least I didn't break anything."

"Yet?"

Stepping over to him, my hands automatically adjust the collar and tug at the sweater to sit better over his big torso. And there it is, that sharp, electric tingle of a magic I've never felt before... before Emma Swan touched my arm and Jefferson's hat spun to life. Both of us are startled, I can see it in the green eyes, and I yank my hands away as though embarrassed. Really, me, embarrassed? It's absurd.

"You're still going to be cold."

"Yeah, well, the bare feet won't help that either. I'll be fine for now."

But my eye has already wandered over to where I've been avoiding a temptation.

"Humor me." His skepticism is rampant over his face and I tease, "It will amuse Henry."

We're both startled at the sleek kidskin jacket in a rich brown with highlights of a deep red I hold open. And once again my mouth is talking without input from the rest of my brain.

"You were wearing a similar color when you saved me from that wraith."

"Twice," he teases back and I fight down flustered irritation, feeling unbalanced by him.

"Yes, twice. Think of this as a thank you gift."

After studying me for a long, heavy moment that makes me unaccountably uncomfortable, he simply steps over and carefully threads his right arm into the sleeve, brushing against my elbow and ribs, the magic quiescent now. Shaking off the shiver of what almost feels like stymied expectations, I help get his left hand in position and smooth the leather up over his shoulders.

It's a perfect fit.

++ Henry ++

When this stranger crawled out of the wishing well, I know I didn't react well. But I’ve been through too much and kinda freaked. Luckily, Mary Margaret was there and took me with her when she went to go kiss David awake. When Mom'd shown up with the big guy I couldn't really believe was Emma, I had only been able to stare in disbelief.

But it's been a couple days now and David talked to me and let me talk about it yesterday before I'd asked him to take me home. It had been weird and kinda awkward to be around Mom again, but we'd gotten better with some time. She'd even let me drag her out to eat at the diner where I was glad to see... Emma. She... he looks better now, not so freaked out and messed up. Dragging him off to get dressed by Mom only made sense, because she always looks good.

Mom. I think I’m finally really starting to believe in her, especially after what she did at the well. I know I’ve been angry at her for a long time, and more than a little scared, but watching her thrash around had really shaken me.

Turns out I don't really hate her at all.

Turns out I've really missed her.

Yeah, I’d been clinging to Emma a lot, I know, and then left to stay with Gramps after the curse broke, but it's not the same. She was all I had my whole life and that can't be replaced. And if I can help her be good now, then I’m gonna do it.

Emma's moved ahead of us as we walk down the street, but I stick with Mom and we both watch the stranger that really isn't a stranger at all. There are mannerisms that I recognize, a certain bounce in the way he walks and how he tilts his head curiously when something catches his attention. It's weird, but it makes me feel better, too.

When we step into the shoe shop, I see that Emma is holding his face and Mr. Cobbler is offering a wad of tissue. "Terry, relax, I’ve bashed my face way harder than that since this damn change happened. It's just a little bloody nose. See, already stopping. But thanks." Mopping off the small trickle of blood on nose and fingertips, he grins sheepishly at me and mom. "One of these days, I’ll get used to being so... long."

It seems kinda rude to laugh, but it is sorta funny.

"How big are your feet?"

"No idea. Terry here is going to have to figure that out."

After a few minutes with the foot-measuring doohicky with all of its numbers, Mr. Cobbler comes up with a size twelve. So I grab a plastic bag of men's athletic socks and hand them over.

"Thanks, kid."

When Emma starts trying on sneakers that don't match the new clothes, Mom clearly wants to say something, but holds back. Another point in her favor as a change for the better. Emma catches the expression as he laces up the light shoes. "Sorry to mess up your ensemble, Regina, but the idea of pinchy dress shoes right now gives me hives. Besides, I need decent traction to keep myself on my feet."

"Yes, I can see that," Mom comments a little sarcastically as Emma stands and sways, grabbing Mom's hand when she automatically reaches out. They're acting a little weird, but everyone's acting a little weird around Emma right now. That makes me doubly glad for this nice, normal shopping trip.

If you read this and are enjoying it? Marvelous! The rest of the tale is at http://archiveofourown.org/works/1368154/chapters/2860039

Enjoy!

Sophrosyne, Chapter 3

shatterpath — Tue, 01 Apr 2014 14:10:24 GMT

++ Regina ++

It was the desperate plea to have faith in him that did me in. Since the moment I realized that I could lose him forever, Henry is all that has mattered to me. For him, I have given up everything that has defined me for so long.

Even him.

The deadly barrier spell arcs through me, acid green lightning burning in the violently expanding pyroclastic cloud of my internal magics. The pain is an excruciating burn that must be akin to grabbing a high voltage power line. I would scream if I could.

Is this how it will end? The cold dirt shoveled over my deep darkness? Will anyone mourn me?

With a wrenching blast of power, I am tossed away like a leaf in a storm; dazed and suffused with magics that actively hurt. Fairy magic and the dark forces that power me are not meant to mix. Breathing heavily, my trembling hands levering my heavy body up, I focus my will like the tool it has always been.

Breathing deeply, striving to calm the internal storm, I can only tremble there, on the forest floor. The whirling violet clouds of power have been the only soul and heart I have acknowledged in so long. This raging influx of electric pain has thrown them into sharp relief, broiling lightning amidst the whirlwind. Slowly, the storm quiets, the lightning swallowed by the maelstrom that so often feels like the only heart I have left.

Shaking it off, like one would do from a blow to the head, I finally look up, hoping that my effort has not been in vain. But immediately, my heart reminds me that it still lives, as it lurches in pain at the expression on my son's face.

"No!" he cries, devastated that his hero has not come back. Even that bastard Rumpelstiltskin looks perturbed.

"I'm sorry, Henry," I whisper in a voice like ground glass. "I'm sorry."

And then, miracle of miracles...

There is a scrabbling hand at the lip of the wishing well.

++ Emma ++

This is what I’ve been dreading with every fiber of my being.

But, despite my very real misgivings, I climb with all my strength. Because that's what I’m meant to do.

Survive.

Bracing my hands and feet on the inside of the vertical tunnel we've magically appeared in, I chance a glance down at Mary Margaret, who is hanging from my waist. The swirling purple whirlpool is vertigo inducing, but I swallow my stomach down and call out, "Keep your grip so I can pull us up! Who knows what's at the end of this thing. Just don't touch that damn chain."

Huffing dryly at my dark humor, she does as I demand with the strength and determination I’ve grown to admire in this friend, now mother and protector. Grunting with effort, I focus pure physical effort to drag our combined weight to where I can lash out and hook a hand over the stone lip. Both of us crash painfully to the side of what can only be the damn wishing well, but we hang on.

"You can do it, Emma," Mary Margaret encourages with that sweet smile and I really put my back into it.

When my eyes meet Henry's, the reality of this reunion is so much worse than my imagination could conjure up.

Though, when I have time to process it later, Gold's expression will be frickin' hilarious.

Henry stares in horror as my body continues to strain with effort until I can get my elbows on the lip of the well.

"Wha... what... who are you?"

Yep, now it's real, all the expected fear and disbelief. Every scenario I've tried to run through my head goes flying out the proverbial window.

"It's me," I yell, noticing Gold's threat posture. "Emma. I had a... run in... With magic."

Even as I slip a bit, causing Mary Margaret to swallow a cry of alarm, I see Ruby stirring on the ground not far away and Regina half crumpled at the foot of a nearby tree. Her shocked expression is almost as comical as Gold's.

"I have Mary Margaret with me."

With a powerful heave, I get a better grip on the edge of the well and brace my feet to push my torso half out. Mostly counterbalanced now, though the stones are digging into my gut, I move a hand to reach for Mary Margaret. When her grip is secure, I hook my hand under her thigh to heave her out before slithering out and crashing onto the brick dais in an undignified heap.

I'm so glad to see Henry that my eyes are full of tears, one hand reaching helplessly for him. His recoiling from my impossibly strange appearance, though expected, doesn't lessen the pain.

Welcome home indeed.

++ Regina ++

I have never witnessed such a thing. It must be some sort of illusion, though well-honed instincts on all things magical tell me that it's not.

"What's going on? What happened?"

Ah yes, with the return of the savior, so too my old enemy. The fiery hate feels hollow and almost soggy somehow, too difficult to keep the flames lit.

"She saved you," Henry whispers as though unaware he's even spoken. The words might be complimentary, but the way they are said, as though I’m not even here-- or worse, not important-- are like a knife to the heart. "She saved both of you."

I have been demoted even further away from mother, of no more use now but to be a magical battery to save his hero. Will this torture never end?

Snow is torn between the impossibly altered savior and her Prince Charming, who is still in town, trapped in his sleeping curse. I'm too weary and raw to do more than numbly note the drama as she goes to Henry. He startles as though electrified when she touches him. "Henry, sweetie, everything is going to be fine. Take me to where David is, okay?"

Ruby is up finally, hugging her old friend and they coax Henry away. His eyes are traumatized and confused, but he places his trust in them.

Not a glance is spared for me.

That will never stop hurting.

Struggling to my feet with a shaking hand on the bark of the tree, I desperately search for something to help me calm and focus. All I see is Emma Swan still crumpled at the foot of the wishing well, staring after Henry with a forlorn expression that surely must mirror my own. There is a perverse irony that she... he will have to do for now. Because we are all that is left amid the sentinel trees.

++ Emma ++

"Is this how you felt?" My whispered question feels like rough grit sandpaper in my throat. "All those times he just... walked away? God, Regina, I’m so sorry for that."

Blind with tears, I stay where I fell, back pressed to the cold stone and grind my dirty palms into my eye sockets. After a long minute, some semblance of resigned calm settles and I look up to see that only Regina remains.

"Um, your mom… She’s, uh… She’s… a piece of work, you know?"

Something broken and humorless dances in Regina's faint smirk as she wraps her arms around herself like armor. "Indeed I do."

The dark eyes stare openly at me, her expression vacillating from almost horrified fascination to apologetic. I don't have the will or energy to take offense either way. Better get used to it, right?

"Did... did she do this?" Regina asks hesitantly and it takes me a moment to figure out what she means.

Of all the questions regarding my new 'look', that one hadn't actually occurred to me and I huff humorlessly. "No, but it's sort of a perversely amusing thought, huh? No, me and goddamn, freaking Captain Hook climbed a beanstalk to confront a damn giant, touched some doohickey and got whammied."

There's no mistaking the flicker of surprised recognition at the mention of Hook, and shock about the giant.

"You look like hell."

At the flat, oddly welcome statement, I can't help the helpless and painfully hysterical laughter that boils up from my cavernous chest. It rushes through me, becoming a harsh sob and I rub my eyes once more before looking at myself. I'm dressed in rags and an enemy's leather pants, while trapped in this foreign, male body. Yeah I bet I look like hell. The filthy beard scratching at my fingers and palms as I run them over my face is stark reminder.

"Yeah, I bet I do at that. Could I hitch a ride into town? I'm tired of walking around like a caveman."

Startled again, she nods and turns away. Weary in body and soul, I silently follow, trusting her to lead me through the trees. Yes, I know this is Regina, but right now, she is the only familiar link to my shattered life to cling to.

++ Regina ++

Like some sort of shambling undead thing, the big man that has replaced my latest nemesis follows me to the car. I cannot stop my eyes from glancing back to marvel in fascinated disbelief. The tattered and decaying rags wrapping the muscular torso are a mess with gore and filth staining them. There is dried blood on the bearded face, flaking away from exertion, and fresh blood high on his left arm. The strong hands are battered raw and bruised, his feet wrapped in ragged cloth and leather scraps.

All in all, she... he, is a mess.

At the car, I hold open the door and wince in some sympathy as he folds his large body in and smacks his head into the car's frame, hard enough that it rocks the sedan. He barely seems to notice, despite the many bruises on his face.

He stinks, reeking of old sweat, fear and putrid death. It's nauseating, and strangely grounding, the very mundane bodily reactions to the smells reassuring me that this is indeed real.

Why am I even helping?

It always comes back to Henry. He will want this person safe, despite his horrified shock at the wishing well. His heart has been too set on Emma for too long. He's stubborn like that.

With the heater on full blast and the windows open a bit, I make it back to town with my sanity and stomach intact.

"Out," I order brusquely, wanting to be rid of this stranger who is no stranger.

Yet, he is so pitiful that even my heart of smoke cannot just throw him away like garbage. I know how that feels and cannot find it in me any longer to pass that on to the next soul.

Once again, he batters himself against the car and the door, seeming not to notice in the slightest, despite the faint winces.

Then the happy crowd pours out of Gold's shop and I cannot help but shy away. And yet... I find myself remaining at Emma Swan's side.

++ Emma ++

And here it is: the chorus of shocked and horrified stares that I’ve so been looking forward to. I don't even notice that I’ve started inching behind Regina like a chickenshit until she steps away and stares at me in disbelief. Not like everyone else's 'what the hell happened to you', but a nice normal 'what the hell do you think you are doing?'.

"Oh my," David finally says inanely and I think I can actually hear Regina roll her eyes.

"Magical doohicky," she drawls with heavy sarcasm on that last word. "In the giant's castle or so... he tells me. Apparently the infamous Captain Hook was the other recipient of whatever this is."

More startled looks pass over the group and I really want to sink into the cement. When a hand comes to rest on my wrist, I startle and find myself looking into David's soft gaze. Even more shocking is when he grasps my chin to turn my head and look at my profile. "Well the genes certainly run true. I think you're even better looking than me."

The ripple of startled amusement that moves through the group is like a balm on my soul and tears well up again.

"I swear," I choke on the words for a moment, but force myself to breathe them out. "If you make a crack about always wanting a son, I will punch you."

Chuckling, David pulls me into a gentle hug, before swatting me hard on the back. "Let's get you cleaned up and into some clothes before the whole town descends."

"I'll start explaining," Mary Margaret says quickly, stepping out of the knot of dwarves, grandson, and werewolf to take my hand for a moment. She's really been my strength since this happened and I find myself in a childish near-panic at the idea of being separated from her after so long. Watching my... parents kiss soothes my frayed emotions somehow, even if I’m distracted at the chorus of stares from behind them.

"Come on then," David enthuses, but I pause and find myself staring at a clearly uncomfortable Regina.

"Thank you. For your help."

Her shock is nearly palpable, widening her striking eyes and rippling through the little crowd. It only deepens when I find myself reaching out to carefully set a hand on her crossed arms, feeling the brush of her shirt on my clumsy fingertips.

"Will you be okay?"

She can only stare at me as though she's never seen me before, and I realize that it has nothing to do with my new appearance. It's because I’m being kind and, for the first time, I really feel for her. Having spent a bit of time in the presence of her evil loony of a mother, I understand now how she's come to be on the path she's walked for so long.

Some of that is reflected in my son's eyes. I think maybe we can understand this woman we're both bound to, whether we like it or not.

Just as the moment starts to grow uncomfortable, Regina finally gives me a slight nod, her expression unreadable, before she hurries away.

++ Gold ++

I have seen much in my life; witnessed many things both mundane and magical. But this sort of transformation is new to me. If I hadn't seen him crawl from the well with my own eyes, reinforced by overhearing Snow White hurriedly telling the others about this, I would have thought this was some homeless man mistakenly wandering into my shop.

"Sheriff Swan. I believe I owe you an apology for the booby trap at the well. It turns out your boy is far wiser than we gave him credit for."

Clearly taken aback by my calm statement, she... he pauses, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"No, I understand why you wanted to keep Cora out of here."

"Just remind me never to bet against you in the future."

"It's not really a bet when the game is rigged, is it?"

I do love an audacious opponent, the thrill of someone who does not cower in fear automatically. It makes their eventually defeat all the sweeter.

"To what exactly are you referring?"

"Your scroll. I saw it in your cell. You wrote my name again and again and again."

She... he is very intelligent, but has no concept of long-term plans. How could he? That is a skill that requires the maturity and roots he has never before needed.

"Just wanted to make sure it would stick."

"The ink, it was there all the time. You could've gotten out."

This is where the game gets dicey. Lying can come back to haunt me, it's happened before. So, the best moves contain enough truth to make the lies ring true.

"I was exactly where I needed to be. You needed to find that, so all this could occur."

He doesn't like that, the green eyes narrowing and nostrils flaring.

"You created the curse, Gold. You made me the savior. So everything I’ve ever done... it's exactly what you wanted me to do."

Not entirely the truth, that, but she... he's very close to the mark. So I once more dole out a careful dose of abbreviated truth.

"I created the curse, dearie, but I didn't make you. I merely took advantage of what you are; the product of true love. That's why you're powerful. And everything you've done, you've done yourself."

His expression has changed, thoughtful and cagey. I don't like surprises and I know that I’m in for one right now.

"So you don't know."

It takes a real effort of will to not snap at him. "Know what?"

"Cora tried to rip my heart out, but she couldn't. She was blasted back by something inside me. By... by..."

Poor, confused lad can't even say it, so I do. "… by magic. Whatever that was, I didn't do that. You did."

Yes, I can make use of this little tidbit of information in the future, of that I have no doubt.

++ Emma ++

Water hot as I can stand it cascades in blissful abandon over my changed body and, for the moment, I can't even bring myself to give a damn about the sting. This feels so impossibly decadent after weeks of roughing it. Eventually, I have to quit procrastinating or risk soaping up in cold water, so I grit my teeth and roughly scrub up my foreign-feeling body. I've only had these few days to get used to it and that hasn't included a bath.

Going to the bathroom was bad enough. Waking up with my first real hard-on will be a freakin' joy.

Guiltily, I yank my hand away from my groin as my emotions once again trump physical need. Quickly washing the short nap of darkly blonde hair the change left me, I step out of the shower, perversely glad the mirror is fogged up.

Wrapping up in a towel, I creep to my room, warmed by Henry's things scattered about. Yes, it reminds me of the look on his face when I appeared, but that pain is fading a bit. He just needs time, just like everyone will just need time. There is a pile of cloth on the bed and I’m utterly gratified to find a pair of dark sweats, a t-shirt, warm blue flannel, thick socks and a brand new package of honest to god tighty-whitey briefs.

Once again, I have to laugh with that painful edge of hysteria.

Sitting on the edge of my familiar squeaky bed with my head in my hands, I take a moment to calm before getting into what are obviously David's clothes. They fit well and the irony of that does not escape me. Just dressing in actual clothes makes me feel immeasurably better. With false bravado, I carefully negotiate the steps down to the living space and face the man who is my father, despite our similar ages. He grins warmly and holds out a mug of hot, black coffee that almost makes me swoon.

"There, now you look better. Drink up."

The forced normalcy is soothing, giving me some psychological breathing room. I'm also handed a plate with a pair of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Food hasn't looked so good in a long, long time.

"Not a cook," he explains sheepishly and I have to chuckle and carefully set down the mug before I drop it. The first sandwich is gone in four bites, the familiarity warming my half-starved guts. Around the other sandwich and more coffee, I do my best to explain what happened while he just listens quietly and asks the occasional question.

By the time Mary Margaret arrives, thankfully alone, I’ve pretty much worked my way through it all. She strokes my face hello as I smile helplessly and gives me such a disapproving mom face that I’m startled to faint laughter.

"Oh, I was hoping you'd clean up more."

The reply is out of my mouth before I can stop it.

"Frankly, the idea of shaving makes me want to scream like a B-grade movie queen."

++ David ++

I wasn't kidding when I noted that this stranger that is my long lost daughter is a handsome fellow. In his scruffy face I can see hints of myself more strongly than Mary Margaret now, which does give me an odd thrill. Not that I am the least bit disappointed that my first born is... was a girl. But maybe the next might be a son?

It's both sweet and telling to see how Emma leans into Mary Margaret's fussing hands, even as she... he flinches away. Slim fingers rake through the darkly blonde hair, neatening the wild strands.

"The others missed you," Mary Margaret says quietly and Emma cringes into her... himself. "They'll get used to this, they will. Just give everyone some time. Would you like me to take that shackle over to Gold and get his opinion on it?"

"And trust him anywhere near it? I'd rather not. Though, I suppose at some damn point I’m going to have to, aren't I? Maybe Regina'll take a look at it."

Mary Margaret fires me a weird, desperate look I can only partially decipher.

"Well, either choice has its dangers, right?" I hedge a little lamely and I'm relieved when she relaxes. "Taking some time to acclimate can only do you good. Oh, Snow, stop fussing and sit." Reluctantly, she does as asked, but has given me an idea. "Emma? Could you use a hand with some grooming? I could probably give you a trim."

That's never the sort of thing a sane person expects to say in casual conversation. The look on Emma's face is amusing and we both grin at the same time before cracking up.

It feels good.

Once laughed out, Emma agrees to some grooming and I go rifle through my things still here in the apartment. Luckily, since I've been living here, my own hygiene supplies are at hand. So I retrieve them and return to my family, shooing Mary Margaret away to occupy herself.

A soft bristled brush seems a safe place to start and I neaten the straight, darkly gold strands and make him look a little more civilized. Too bad about those lovely blonde curls.

"Did you chop this short?"

Not the most subtle of conversation starters, but I can't take it back now.

Luckily, Emma only shrugs and answers calmly. "No, I woke up this way, and Hook had long hair. Our reversed builds were fairly close to our opposite, and I had this stupid, itchy crap on my face, so I’m guessing the curse or whatever this is means some kind of reversal with the details tailored. If that made any sense..."

Pulling the handsome face around, I'm once again grateful that the eyes have not changed. The soulful green gaze so like her... his mother's.

With a comb and sharp little scissors and some mutual giggling, I snip away at the softly coarse hairs until they lie closer to his skin.

"Well, as curses go, this one isn't the worst, right?"

Huffing softly with dark humor Emma agrees. "Right..."

++ Emma ++

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"God yes. The idea of being a public freak is not in my cards right now."

It's not my intent to hurt Mary Margaret, it's really not, but she doesn't seem to be able to see this from my point of view. I'm far too raw and weary to deal with the stares and whispers that my very changed self will get right now. After some time has passed, this transformation won't be such a shock anymore, but until then, I’m the world's best sideshow freak.

But good lord those puppy eyes are hard to say no to.

To anyone I have ever used that weapon on, I apologize. That's just not fair.

"Look, MM, I don't want to bail on you, but I feel like a damn spectacle right now. Let me get used to this some more, especially now that we're home, and keep the kid with you at David's apartment. He needs some time to process, okay? Poor kid's had too damn much happen to him and I’m not helping."

"It's not your fault!"

"I know that!"

Did I really just yell like that? Dammit... Fighting for calm, I force my voice down, choking on my stress and temper.

"I know. But neither was that sleeping curse or being adopted by Regina or the damn curse or the hundred other things that has happened to him. Or me, for that matter. We both need time to adapt."

She finally relents with a tense nod, turning on her heel and effectively stomping out. It hurts, but I’m right and wounded feelings won't change that.

"We really are glad you're home, Emma," David says quietly, making my throat hurt with repressed tears, and he quietly steps out to close the door behind him

In locking the door, I move slowly enough to not crack my knuckles as I throw the lock behind them. Then I just stand there with my hand and head resting on the cool wood, trying to reorient myself to the silence that is not really silence that is Storybrooke and this familiar living space.

Even sounds seem a bit off, like my additional height has altered how sound waves get to my brain. Things smell weird and my clean clothes and these surroundings are luxurious and disorienting. It's going to take some time just to move past living in that forest, killing my own food, running from impossible creatures and evil things.

Both craving and fearing the solitude, I carefully creep back upstairs and collapse onto my squeaky bed. After roughing it for so long, it feels strange and almost uncomfortable. Being trapped in this gigantic, foreign body doesn't help. Exhaustion eventually pulls me under, offering me some solace for now.

Cheesy poetry

shatterpath — Mon, 31 Mar 2014 18:24:29 GMT

Read at your own risk! Truly cheesy CaptainSwan I can't believe came from my brain! I only did it for the points, I swear!

Despite the pain of my broken heart
I found love once again
But for all that I have tried
Can I ever be more than reluctant friend?

Thinned patience wars with want
For as a pirate, I've the need to take
As agonizing as being away from the sea
I must be patient for both our sake.

I cannot compete with her family
Nor do I think I should try
Perhaps one day she may need me too
Until then I will be a loyal guide.

Sophrosyne, Chapter 2- Harsh Confrontations

shatterpath — Tue, 25 Mar 2014 21:43:31 GMT

++ Emma ++

Coming awake, I find myself looking into a bleary pair of eyes that match my own. "Hey."

Mary Margaret nearly knees me in the face as she suddenly scrambles to her feet, frantically looking for something.

"Hey, you okay? What... what happened? What are you doing?"

"I'm looking for more powder!"

"Well, I’m pretty sure we're all out of that. What happened?"

I'm getting a little freaked out as she pretty much comes completely undone, sobbing with stress as she clings to the stone Mulan used as a mortar, babbling about it had been David, not Henry in there and he's trapped now.

It's making my head spin, but I'm seized with the need to fix this as best I can, to calm the frenzied panic in this friend who is now so much more.

My grabbing Mary Margaret's hands focuses her and her voice trails off. "We have to get back. If we don't..."

"We will. We will."

"Now you're so sure?"

I'm now sure of myself, and it's a welcome sensation after all these insane changes I’ve been through. I broadcast that sincerity to her.

"Yes. You told me to have faith and now I’m telling you; we will make it back. Okay?" She nods jerkily, but the panic is fading from her eyes. "Did you get the information?"

"It's Rumpelstiltskin. He said the key to stopping her in his jail cell."

"Okay. Then let's go get it."

Nodding jerkily, she gets up and we start gathering our few things. It takes a moment for something to register, a loss of the familiar, hard to place for a long moment. So much is unfamiliar now, that the missing weight pressed to my ribs on the right side is almost overlooked. Frantic, I jerk at the rags wound around me as a shirt and cast my gaze around the forest floor.

"No..."

"What?" Mary Margaret is freaked out all over again. I can sympathize.

"The compass is gone. And so is Mulan."

++ Mary Margaret ++

When we catch up to Mulan, a miracle really considering Emma's condition, I really do want to hurt her. To put one of my arrows through her heart or eye, still smarting and panicked from what I’ve learned, what I’ve been through. When the stoic woman goads me, I think I just might have to do it, press that arrowhead home where I have it pressed to her throat like a dagger.

Aurora’s voice shocks the hell out of all three of us.

"Stop!"

"Okay, don't take the the wrong way, but how the hell did you get here?"

I'm with Emma on this one. Imperiously, Aurora sweeps down the trail, ordering me to let Mulan go. Too startled to argue, I leap back and stare.

"Were you followed?" Mulan asks and Aurora, clearly a little shaken herself, shakes her head.

"I don't think so."

When she tells us it was Hook that freed her, I’m not the only one that just about laughs in her face. But I suppose that his wanting to prove something to Emma has some merit. He... now she, certainly was flirtatious enough, and she's the naive sort to believe in love curing all.

Like I was once.

Squirreling away speculation about Hook and his... her motivations, we're off again on our hunt, crashing through the forest like those zombies are still after us.

(11-3-12)

Oh, how I want to explore the familiar lines of the castle, the corridors and rooms that I remember so well. But there's no time and we hustle for the dungeon, pausing only long enough to light torches and lanterns in the forbidding space. Even here has strong nostalgia and I find myself hanging back, Emma unconsciously doing the same.

"Rumpelstiltskin’s cell. I haven’t been here since before Regina's curse. This is where he told us you were going to be the savior."

Stumbling, bracing himself on the rough hewn wall, Emma eyes me. "He knew?"

"It was prophesied."

I can't help but feel as though I’m missing an important clue that has nothing to do with the missing vial of squid ink. When a clearly disturbed Aurora hands over the tattered bit of parchment, I feel the creeping dread that slackens my child's face.

Emma. The name is written again and again and again, filling the entire scroll.

All I can remember is my bargain. His information for my unborn child's name, which he then immortalized with his usual sly madness.

The chill I feel is more soul than body.

++ Emma ++

As though I needed more proof that my role in this madness was preordained, the insanity of the neatly inked letters of my name, over and over again, is very convincing. What kind of madman is Rumpelstiltskin really? Snippets of Henry's book come back to me, fragments of tales, threads of story and connections I haven't quite pieced together yet.

I should help the others as they continue to frantically search, but I’m still caught up in the clues just out of my reach.

Then Mulan finds the empty inkpot and my despair is as sharp as Mary Margaret's voice. Will anything finally go our way? Shaken again, I rub at my too-short hair, cringing at the rasp of beard that reminds me of just how much my reality has been altered. For a moment I’m overwhelmed again, just wanting to crawl off in a corner and jibber like a loony for a few minutes. Maybe it will make me feel better.

Doubt it.

The numbness has sunk in so far that I barely react to Aurora's suddenly throwing a stone and the cell door crashing down to trap us. I've been through too many shocks with too little time to acclimate and my resiliency is thin.

"Excellently done, dear."

That dreaded voice stills Mulan and Mary Margaret's alarm and cuts through my haze. Sure as shit, it's Cora, striding down the stone tunnel like some goddamn queen. Even as I do my damnedest to struggle to clumsy, hurting feet, my body is yanked forward like a puppet and slams brutally into the bars. The chain around my torso tightens and then slithers away, my damn body too slow and too uncoordinated to grab back what is mine.

"No!"

But it's too late, the coveted compass is in her grasp and her smile arctic and triumphant.

"No, don't waste your energy, dear. Rumpelstiltskin himself couldn't escape from this cell. Thank you, Aurora. We couldn't have done it without you."

The girl backs away defensively, her face a riot of defiance and terror.

"Why?" is all I can whisper, far too close to broken.

"Don't blame her. She was only doing what she was told."

I have never seen a magically removed heart, the aurora borealis of reds rippling through the glass-like object, but I know exactly what it is.

"You took her heart?" I squeak, still pressed to the bars and wishing I could reach the monster's throat.

A second figure steps from the shadows and I can only stare. "Actually, I did. It was a gift."

Hook does indeed make a very pretty woman and has a glare that could nearly set a person on fire. I know, because it's leveled at me right now. As much as he... she would like to hide it, she's at least as fascinated by me. In that brief instant, I see that she had been blaming me for the change wrought on her. My own transformation is a real shock, leaving her shaken.

Aurora's guttural cry of pain breaks the staring contest, Cora's hand flexing harshly around the trapped heart. Her smile is truly chilling. "Forgive us. We'd love to stay, but Storybrooke awaits."

"Hook! Wait! Please don't do this. My son is in Storybrooke. He needs me."

It's hopeless and I know it, as the conflict in her eyes hardens and I rattle the bars with my useless new strength.

"Perhaps you should have considered that, before you abandoned me on that beanstalk."

"You would have done the same."

My grousing, sullen statement almost makes her look pitying.

"Actually, no." Pressing the advantage, she steps forward, bringing up a small, dark object. "Do you know what this is, Emma?"

It's the dried, desiccated bean the giant wore around his neck and I say as much.

"Indeed. A pirate always keeps a souvenir of his conquests, but this... Well, this is much more than a mere trinket. This is a symbol. Something that was once magical, full of hope, possibility. Now look at it. Dried up, dead, useless. Much like you. It will also remind me that I will find a solution to this unfortunate transformation, while you will die here like a trapped rat. The time for making deals is done, just as I'm done with you."

++ Mary Margaret ++

Emma is actually growling, the low, grunting of an angry, trapped animal as he strains at the bars, reaching futilely at our tormenters. With a last hateful glare, the pretty, dark-haired woman that is Captain Hook strides out after Cora to destroy all that I hold dear.

It makes me almost nostalgic Regina's straightforward resentful hatred.

As much as I want to help Emma right now, she... he would probably try to rip my head off. And poor Aurora is shaken, right down to her soul.

I can't even imagine what she must be feeling. Or can someone who's had their heart torn out even feel anymore?

"This is all my fault," she sobs softly while Mulan stands by helplessly, completely at a loss of what to do.

"Some savior I am," Emma growls. "Not doing much saving, am I?"

The rattling clang of one big fist against the bars sounds painful and makes me wince in sympathy. Gingerly, almost warily, I approach but stay just out of arm's reach.

"Emma, we're going to win this fight, you know. Good always defeats evil."

That harsh, ugly sound almost breaks my heart. "You sound like Henry."

"I guess optimism runs in the family."

"It must have skipped a generation."

"You should know better than anybody. You broke the curse."

Whipping around with sudden violence, Emma nearly screams in my face, his eyes wild. "What the hell have I done since? I got us stranded, burned down the wardrobe, let Cora get the ashes, then the compass, got myself trapped in this fucking body and made an enemy of the one man... woman, who might have helped us."

I'm frozen by the pain and vitriol spewing my way, just as much as the thick rivulet of blood oozing down his face from a rough gouge in his forehead. Deflating suddenly, Emma crumples as though too weak to hold himself up for one more moment. When he speaks again, his voice is defeated, almost lifeless.

"The only reason I ever broke the curse was because it was exactly what Gold wanted me to do."

"What are you talking about?"

My voice is a whisper and the defeated eyes are too heavy a burden for my soul to bear.

"He told you I was the savior. It was his plan. Once I fulfilled that role, maybe that's all I was ever meant to do. Everything I've ever done, he had it all mapped out before I was even born. He probably even manipulated Regina into casting the damn curse. I'm not powerful, I'm no savior. I'm a name on a piece of paper, a pawn. And that's exactly why we're in here and Cora's on her way to Storybrooke."

++ Emma ++

(11-4-12)

Voices blearily cut through the thick blanket of darkness that has silenced my torment for awhile. Selfishly, I want to go back, to avoid the insanity my life has become for just a little bit longer.

"The scroll is not going to magically open the door for us."

Mulan's heavy sarcasm actually makes me grin faintly and blink my eyes open. Mary Margaret is getting excited about something, a smile warming her face.

"Yes it is."

Our collective confusion and skepticism makes her rush to explain. "When I was a little girl, I used to sneak into Cora's chamber and watch her practice magic. She had a spell book."

Noticing that I’m awake, she moves to crouch beside me and brush a gentle hand over my aching forehead.

"Emma, the spells were in the book."

"Yeah," my voice sounds like I’ve gargled with gravel. "Isn't that was a spell book is? A book that has spells in it?"

Offering a hand to help me sit up, Mary Margaret shakes her head, too excited to respond to my sarcasm. Then she stands and faces the bars and gives me a mischievous grin that has me really curious, despite myself.

"Watch."

Raising the tattered scroll bearing the endless refrain of my name, she blows over the surface and to my utter astonishment-- one of these days I'll get used to this shit-- the words lift off the paper in a thin cloud of ink.

"Whoa! Squid ink."

Scrambling to my feet, I grab Mary Margaret in an awkward hug, careful to not touch the slow moving cloud.

"Gold wrote the scroll in squid ink!"

When the floating ink touches the bars, they simply vanish, leaving a large, round hole. Finally, maybe I can feel hope again.

"Told you," Mary Margaret says with a deep conviction that might be arrogant on someone else. "Good always wins."

As we rush to get the hell out of Dodge, Aurora wisely points out that she has to stay behind. I've grown to like her and leaving her here, tied up for everyone's safety, is not an easy decision. But there's no other choice and Mulan knows it. So she ties the younger woman up, vowing to return with her heart. It's really actually very sweet and I’m glad neither will be alone once we go home.

Guess that optimism runs in the family after all.

++ Mary Margaret ++

Driven by desperation, we crash through the forest and emerge onto the dry lake bed. No! Cora and Hook are side by side at the mouth of a whirlpool that churns away hungrily, their hands on the compass.

Only moments to act, only time for a single, perfectly aimed arrow.

When I get back to Storybrooke, I really have to remember to thank Red once again for teaching me so well all those years ago. Cora and Hook are startled when the compass goes flying into the sand.

"You're not going anywhere!" I shout, shaking with anger and worry. "This portal's taking us home." Shoving Emma, I bark, "The compass, get it!"

And the battle is joined. Fireballs fly from Cora's hands, miraculously deflected by Mulan's sword, while Emma lumbers at Hook with murder in his eyes. That confrontation would almost be funny were it not so deadly, neither of them in real control of their changed bodies. A clumsy slash from Hook draws a line of blood and my arrow misses as they dance apart. A second shot misses Cora as she vanishes in a pillar of purple smoke.

I'm sure mine isn't the only panic as something whirls away from the smoke, the leather satchel with its long carrying strap fluttering.

Aurora's heart!

Astonishingly, it's Hook that twists athletically and manages to reach out with that single, wicked claw. The strap bounces off her wrist as Hook unbalances over the whirlpool, her face panicked. Then Emma comes to the rescue, grabbing the oversized jerkin and yanking the woman back to dry land.

"Oh no you don't!"

With a sardonic grin, Hook half tosses and half rolls the bag at Mulan. I'm quite certain her look of surprise is echoed on my own face.

"I may be a pirate, but I bristle at the thought of a woman losing her heart." That wicked grin is actually more appealing on the strong, pretty face. "Unless it's over me."

Rushing over, I yell at Mulan. "Go!"

"But you need the compass!"

"And Aurora needs her heart."

Later, when I have time to process, I will be warmed by Mulan's hesitation. For now, I'm shocked when she offers me her precious sword. "Take it. It deflects her magic."

And just like that, with this miraculous gift, she is gone.

++ Emma ++

Growling with annoyance and animalistic stress, I yank out Jack's sword, needing to keep this enemy from slicing me again. The shallow cut on my upper arm burns like a bitch, but I barely notice. We circle around, sparring clumsily, probably as big a danger to ourselves as one another.

"I had no idea you had such a soft side," I jeer and she shrugs nonchalantly.

"I don't. I just like a fair fight."

Around and around we go, in a deadly dance I’m just no damn good at.

"Good form," she jeers, ducking and using her smaller weight to ram me, sending me sprawling. "But not good enough."

The bigger they are, the harder they fall seems to hold true here and I wheeze from the impact. In the corner of my eye, because I don't dare take my attention off Hook, I see Cora, dark cloak fluttering, and I worry for both myself and Mary Margaret.

This can't possibly be how our story ends.

Hook has managed to pin my sword, her smaller weight atop me, the pale blue eyes glittering in triumph. "In different circumstances, pretty boy, this could be fun, but you can't beat me. You should quit while you're still alive."

Then I feel a familiar geometric shape pressed into my ribs and hope blasts through me again.

"Why would I do that when I’m winning?"

Clumsily fishing out the compass from beneath me makes the blue eyes flicker and I lash out as hard as I can. The impact is stunning, the weight of the compass clenched in my fist helping rock Hook's head back on her shoulders. Ignoring the wail of pain from my hand, I scramble to my feet, raging with adrenaline and ready to take on Regina's crazed mother.

"Now let's go home!"

My lunge comes to nothing as Cora vanishes again, but I actually kind of expected it and roughly shove Mary Margaret towards the whirlpool.

Cora's too quick, reappearing to throw us back with a gesture. Angry, deeply angry all the way down into the most primitive, animal, lizard-like parts of my brain, I am ready to protect my family, even if it endangers me. I try to get up as Mary Margaret surges to her feet, but Cora slams me again, and I can feel that I’m running out of energy and time.

How can we hope to win?

++ Mary Margaret ++

Terrified for both myself and Emma, panic claws at me, and Cora looms close like a snake ready to strike. I'm out of ideas, out of maneuvering room, out of time.

"Why do you want to go to Storybrooke?"

It's a desperate question, more of a stall tactic than real curiosity. The unearthly, chilling calm in Cora's eyes scares me like little else has in a very, very long time. Even Regina's eyes were never this cold...

"Because my daughter needs me."

She really believes that. This insane woman has no idea of the destruction her madness has wrought, what it did to Regina, who turned all of that twisted pain on me and so many others. For the first time I think I really have a clear peephole to the insanity that led us here.

"And now, I’m going to give her the one thing she's always wanted."

No, no, no!

"Your heart."

I freeze in animal, instinctual fear, knowing what's coming and at a complete loss of what to do to save myself. Poor Charming, lost forever to a sleeping curse because I couldn't save myself and return to him. Poor Emma, separated forever from Henry.

I failed.

"Goodbye, Snow."

With a bellow of pure rage, Emma is suddenly up, knocking me aside. Horrified, I look up from the ground to witness the sickening sight of Cora's hand, buried in my daughter's chest past the wrist, aglow with magic.

"Oh, you foolish child," Cora laughs like a blade against bone. "Don't you know? Love is weakness."

But the rules have shifted again, as Cora's yank only makes Emma's big, transformed body shake, his face slack in shock for a moment. Then, his face changes with the realization of something big... and powerful.

"No," he rumbles with a deep conviction and Cora looks shocked and almost frightened. "It's strength."

With a blast of pure white energy, Cora is tossed away like a rag doll, vanishing once more into purple smoke. Scrambling to my feet, I touch the spot her hand had been, sensing Emma's warmth through the rags, and I swear I can almost feel that sweet, strong heart.

"What was that?" He squeaks in shock and I cup his cheek in my hand, willing my adoration and pride into calming him.

"That is a great subject for discussion. When we get home!"

We're driven now, victory so close we can taste it, and rush for the whirlpool, still churning patiently away.

"Ready?"

There is still conflict in the eyes we share and there will be no easy answers. But they are certainly not here and he brings up the compass so that we can trap it between our hands.

"Yeah, let's go."

And we jump.

Fic: Sophrosyne- A genderbend Once Upon a Time story- Emma/Regina

shatterpath — Tue, 25 Mar 2014 21:29:41 GMT

Title: Sophrosyne - (n) a healthy state of mind, characterized by self-control, moderation, and a deep awareness of one's true self, and resulting in true happiness
Author: Shatterpath
Email: shatterpath@shatterstorm.net
Rating: Hard R
Pairing: Regina Mills/ Genderbent Emma Swan
Date Written: begun in December 2012. Still a work in progress!
Word Count: Pending
Warnings: GENDERBEND WITH HETROSEXUAL SEX. Scattered violence, multiple partners, lots of swearing.
Archive: ShatterStorm Productions & AO3 only…all others ask for permission & we'll see.
Feedback: Constructive criticism is always welcome.
Beta: Several people flaked on me during a beta and I was unable to find anyone to help me, so all mistakes are my own.

Disclaimer: "Once Upon a Time," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Adam Horowitz, Edward Kitsis, Kitsis/Horowitz, and ABC Studios. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with "Once Upon a Time," ABC, or any representatives of the actors.

Author’s Notes: On 12-13-12, Ariestess and I had an IM conversation about how many less than satisfactory genderbends existed. So, as a matter of writer pride, I decided I would show the universe how to do it well. I have to say that I had no idea what a monster of a fic this would turn out to be nor how emotionally freeing is was to explore.

Spoiler alert: This story picks up towards the end of 'Tallahassee'; after Emma and Anton come to an accord and Emma returns to pull Hook from the wreckage of the fallen castle stones. By making a modification to the shackle she uses to bind Hook, I came up with my rewrite. Many events of 'Into The Deep' and 'Queen of Hearts' are closely parallel to canon, so please be patient with me until we get to the truly original stuff! Once Emma and Snow climb out of the wishing well, the rest of the story is all me.

'Canon' notes: As there was a nearly five week gap between episode 9 and 10, much of this was written in that time and I have actively contradicted quite a lot of canon in this tale because of that. Some obvious examples are as follows. The length of time it takes Cora and Hook to arrive in Storybrooke, takes days and not moments. The meeting with Neal goes wildly different. Rumpel's fate. What happens when Cora and Regina meet again. So stay open-minded!

Dedication: Ariestess of course! Because her evil brain helped me come up with this! And Caitrin, for sending me off to go look at pictures of Chris Hemsworth, who I didn't know from Adam at the time, and getting the straight-Regina muse all squidgy!

Summary: What might really happen when someone finds themselves instantly changed from a woman to a man and all the insanity and relearning that follows.

++ Emma ++

(11-1-12)

Groaning expressively, I feel consciousness swim woozily through my skull and flesh, which all ache abysmally. What the hell happened? The last thing I remember is negotiating my deal with the giant and rushing back to free Hook from the pile of rubble before I was gonna chain him in place so that I could get the hell out of here...

Something is wrong, seriously wrong. There are all sorts of body signals rushing in that are not mine. They are nothing like mine. After twenty-eight years in my nice, familiar body, I know what I should feel like.

This is not my body.

I don't know what the hell this is.

It's big, lumpy, uncomfortable and... well, cold. Some of the sensations are familiar, but just don't feel right. Blinking my eyes open, I’m confronted with a hazy, unfocused image that might be my arm, it's hard to tell.

What the hell?

Reaching towards my watering, inexplicably unfocused eyes, I yowl in pain as I rock my head back with a hard fist in the eye.

"Son of a...!"

Several things register at once, several impossible things. Rolling onto my back reveals that the bizarre body sensations are not my imagination. My voice is completely foreign and I am nearly stark naked.

Blinking wildly against the pain and tears, my contact lens falls out, causing familiar panic. I hate losing the damn things and how the hell am I going to see in this foreign place and...

Focus, Emma!

The hand cupped protectively near my face is not mine. God, I’m getting sick of that thought. It's a big, masculine appendage, attached to a thick, powerful forearm... and it's responding to my brain.

Shrieking in alarm and shock, I scrabble backward, as though I can escape the impossible. Rugged stone rasps over my palms and ass and heels, crashing into my back as I reach an obstacle and stare in mindless horror at my body.

Thickly muscled and distinctly male, its both mine and completely alien. The utterly incongruous sight of that flaccid dick lolling out of my hot pink thong makes me half giggle in hysterical despair. What the hell has happened to me?

The left eye, free of my contact lens, is completely in focus, a sensation I haven't experienced since puberty. Warily, I reach up with one of the strange meathooks and rub at my right eye with the callused heel until the other lens starts to slip so I can blink it out. Yep, not imaging what I’ve been staring at, now in perfect 20/20 clarity.

Gingerly sitting up is finally too much for the strained thong. For a moment I can feel how painfully tight its pulled against my crotch and hips, and then the left side snaps loose. My clothing is lying with half the seams torn out in some perverse parody of those police chalk outlines of a murder victim like in those old movies.

Oh my fucking god, what weird shit has magic done now?

Jerking my eyes away from my new body, I see a hand peeking out from beneath the rubble that buried Hook. That is the last thing I remember before waking, reaching in to pull him out... Only now, peeking out from his black embroidered shirt, is a delicate and distinctly feminine hand.

That solidifies it. I am not imagining this. Carefully getting onto my hands and knees-- how the fuck am I supposed to control this gangly, massive body-- I creep over and grab for that small hand. As I did with my eye, I smash my fingertips into the floor by overreaching, and whimper in pain.

"Focus, Emma," I whisper in my strange new voice and reach out slowly until I can curl thick fingers around the small hand and pull carefully. It doesn't take much effort for the slender, female body to slide out of the hollow beneath the fallen roof pieces and I stare. Head lolled off to one side where I dropped her... him, whatever, she looks sweet and pretty and innocent. A long head full of lustrous dark hair makes me reach up, cracking myself in the head again, to feel that my own hair is short and thick, the rasp of stubble startling my skin as my fingers brush against my cheek.

It's like... we've kinda switched. Hook's still dark-haired but has close to my build and long locks. Grabbing the left arm confirms that the stump is still there, the wicked silver hook hanging loosely. I appear to be a bit bulkier and more muscular, but have short hair and a scruffy beard.

Moving cautiously, wary of damaging my hands any more, I grab the black leather pants that are a half million sizes too big on the transformed Hook. Wriggling around, I manage to shove my ungainly legs into them after peeling off the painfully tight socks, one of them splitting in a massive run that would make nylons cry. An effort to get into the tall, soft boots doesn't work and I leave my companion in the shirt and vest so each of us is only half naked. Then I doggedly go back to my original plan, grabbing the shackle to put it around Hook's small wrist, but pausing as I note a strange symbols etched into it. Could this be the cause of our genders being switched?

The last time I had this much damn trouble standing up, I must have been in diapers, or drunk out of my damn mind. Wavering like a sapling in a hurricane, I’m up for only a moment before collapsing in a heap.

"This bites."

After several falls, I manage to retrace my steps and grab Jack's sword, hoping I don't stab myself to death. I notice a pile of dusty scraps of fabric nearly as big as this new body and realize that I should cover up more than I am. So I haul my booty back to the pirate and painstakingly rip one of the rags to strips and tie the woman up before stuffing her back into the hollow beneath the stones. With effort, she'll be able to wiggle loose, once the shock wears off. The rest of rags I use to cover up my cold torso and wrap more of them around my waist, before doing the same with the golden chain and shackle that had been originally meant for Hook. Stashing the sword at the small of my back, I also grab the ripped remains of my brown leather jacket to fumble around until the compass falls out of the pocket. At least this hellish transformation won't be for nothing. Hanging the compass around my neck, I take one last glance at where Hook's body is hidden and stagger for the entry hole the giant uncovered for me earlier.

Some rational part of me knows I’m panicking, driven on by shock and pain.

That animal fear forces me down the damn beanstalk, every motion of this unfamiliar body threatening to make me fumble, and I can imagine my strange new body smashed to chunky salsa against the ground far, far below. Somehow, my slips never quite completely yank me away from the massive plant stalk, though there are some terrifyingly close calls that will probably give me nightmares.

Yet despite everything, the ground is actually growing closer, a sign of hope that balances out the panic and exhaustion still dogging me after all these hours of climbing and everything that happened at the castle in the clouds. More than halfway down, another surge of fear blasts coldly through me as I remember my instructions to Mulan.

Ten hours.

If I didn't make it back in ten hours, she was to hack the beanstalk to the ground, my safety be damned. And some well-honed survival instinct in the back of my brain is screaming that I’m running out of time.

When the violent ripple of power races up the beanstalk, it's both a terror and a relief from the unknown. This is how it will end. Too far from the ground for my body to survive a fall with a plant as big around as a lighthouse and hundreds of feet tall.

Really, there are some days that I just miss my plain, pathetic life before Henry showed up on my doorstep.

My body, still frighteningly clumsy, but doggedly clinging like a burr, is still moving. I'm driven on by the small figures of my companions below, the promise of solid ground and trees and safety. Well safety compared to what the hell I’m doing now.

Scrabbling, falling and catching a leaf bigger than my new torso, I rush as much as I can. Jamming my aching, half-frozen feet into every nook and cranny they feel out, grabbing at every handhold, moving with some lizard-brained instinct that I just let take over in hopes that maybe I might actually survive.

When the ground does finally drive the breath out of my oversized body, it is not with deadly force at all, though it does jar the hell out of me. Absolutely wasted from the physical and emotional effort, I can only pant and try to calm myself.

++ Mary Margaret ++

Foregoing my attempts to beat the daylights out of Mulan for threatening my child, I hear the noisy grunt of impact around the far curve of the beanstalk. In a heartbeat, my quarry is forgotten and I am up and moving, crying out Emma's name.

But the huddled figure is not my Emma, but a heavily muscled man I’ve never met before.

Whoever he is, he cringes away as though expecting violence and I’m completely at a loss.

"Who the hell are you?"

Breathing heavily, he doesn't move for a moment before his head tilts up and I’m looking into a pair of wet, miserable eyes.

That are a mirror of my own.

Like some cheesy damsel in distress, my hand flies up to cover my gaping mouth and I actually step back. And narrowly miss impaling myself on Mulan's damn sword. Unsurprisingly, I can sense Aurora hanging back, her confusion clear.

"I...," the strange man starts to say, the deep voice cracking alarmingly. "I touched something, me and Hook. And... and I woke up like this!"

He's wailing like a frightened child and, despite my shock, I cannot resist that primitive plea for aid. So I push down Mulan's threatening blade and make my way over the strange, handsome man... who is my daughter. He shies away like a terrified animal when I wrap gentle arms around his head, pressing the short nap of darkly gold hair to my shoulder. "Emma, Emma, it's going to be okay. I'm here. Shhhh..."

One thick arm bashes me in the stomach, but I ignore the hit as it finally manages to snake around my waist in a suffocating grip. Emma is bawling, a complete loss of control I wouldn't even believed she is capable of.

But even the strongest and most reticent of personalities would be shattered by... this.

It takes a few minutes for Emma to calm before she... he jerks his head back and stares at me, owl-eyed. Despite the shock of this magical transformation, I find myself relived to see strong hints of James in the handsome face.

"You're not freaked out."

Smiling lovingly, I brush a hand over his forehead and soft bangs. "Oh, sure I am, but I would know your eyes anywhere. After all, I’ve been looking at them my whole life. You said you touched something?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah," Emma stammers, clearly trying to get her... his act together. "I think it was a gold shackle and chain I was going to use on Hook. I brought it with me, but no one else better touch it, in case I’m right."

A wide-eyed Mulan steps up beside me, pauses and then takes a half-step back. After giving herself a shake, she kneels by Emma's feet to peer at them. "You've cut yourself. Sit still."

++ Mulan ++

Whatever the truth is about what has happened to Emma Swan, it has no bearing on my treatment of the scraped and bloodied soles. Wounded feet can be a death sentence to a soldier who must walk and that cannot happen. We have too many things to accomplish in order to return our companions to the world from which they came.

So, rather than stare and feel helpless and useless, I do what I do best and make myself useful.

"Aurora! Will you bring me the waterskin?"

Shaking off her shock, she does as asked. I use a small piece of bandage to scrub off the bare feet before using a small amount of salve and wrapping them.

"You will need some sort of shoes to protect your feet."

"Here," the strange, masculine voice says roughly and she... he clumsily unwinds a ragged bundle of leather from the mass of rags he wears. "Use this. It's useless to me now."

"Your jacket. But this is not unlike your armor. I can't. When you return to yourself, you can have the jacket repaired."

"Mulan," Emma sighs, and for a moment it's easier to see the strange and powerful person that I have been traveling with, despite this stunning transformation. "It's just a jacket. I only thought to grab it because I actually had the brain cells to remember this."

We all stare at the heavy gold compass that he lifts from where it hangs around his neck. "You found it," Snow White breathes in wonder and her smile is luminous. "I knew you would."

With my dagger, I measure the length of his feet and roughly hack out soles from the brown leather. "I need something for laces."

"I have something that might work," Aurora volunteers as I punch small slits around the mock sandals. A length of fancy silk cord glittering with silver thread dangles at my shoulder.

"Did you tell her to cut it down?"

This is a conversation that my charge and I should not be listening to, but retreat would call attention to us at this point. Snow hides her hurt in the lecturing tone and Emma squirms uncomfortably, making me grip his ankle so that I can finish with the sandal.

"Yes. I couldn't risk..."

"We go back together, that is the only way. Do you understand?"

Mother and child share a hug, with little hesitation over the stunning changes wrought on Emma.

"Yeah," he murmurs quietly and sits still while I finish with his feet and stand to offer a hand.

"Let's get you upright to check the efficiency of my work."

Neither of us is expecting the strength of the pull and I manage to not sprawl all over him, but not by much. The familiar eyes blink owlishly, but I regain my balance and hold up a hand to stop the apology.

"Don't pull, just keep your arm and torso muscles tense. Ready?"

This time he manages to help me lever him to clumsy feet, hissing with pain. I don't let go, letting him use my hand and shoulder for balance as he tries to adjust. I am reminded of learning to live in the weight of armor, how clumsy and heavy and awkward it made me feel.

"Got it?" Snow asks gently as Emma's now large and very masculine body struggles to balance.

"For now."

"Good. Now, let's go get that dust from Cora."

"Yeah, and go home."

++ Emma ++

(11-2-12)

It felt like we'd walked forever and exhaustion was black around the edges of my vision by the time we finally stopped. At least the others allowed me to collapse in an uncomfortable pile to pass out, knowing I would be useless in helping with camp. I can barely coordinate this stupid body and even digging a latrine would be past my capabilities right now. My sleep is mostly dark, but plagued with visions of what may happen when others that know me see me like this. I'm tortured with fears of how I will survive this clumsiness and this quest we're all on.

I have never felt so fearful or useless in my life.

A poke in the shoulder pushes back the darkness and that strange, deep voice moans, my chest vibrating in sympathy, my uncomfortable new body aching and stiff.

Dammit. Not a bad dream then.

That insistent hand pushes at my shoulder, rolling my limp self over and I blearily blink my eyes open. Mulan almost smiles, her eyes as gentle as I’ve seen. "We do not wish to wake you, Emma, but we must press on."

Grunting and mumbling, I accept her helping hand again, sitting up and letting my blood flow remember where the hell it's supposed to go in this new body. Suddenly I get a nasty, sharp need from the vicinity of my bladder.

"Oh god," I groan harshly, really, really wanting for this to just not be happening. "Help me up, quick, or I swear I’m going to embarrass myself."

On unsteady feet, I hobble away from her, waving off a concerned Mary Margaret and nearly sagging against the nearest tree.

When I woke to this incomprehensible change, this mundane need had never occurred to me, but there's no getting away from it now. With my forehead braced to the scratchy bark, I slowly move clumsy, shaking hands and yank open the laces on the front of the stolen leather pants. Blindly, I fish out that incongruous and painfully sensitive organ, emptying my aching bladder and groaning in painful relief. Frankly, I’m shocked I didn't wet myself. At least it's easier to clean up, though the idea of shaking the stupid thing makes me cringe. Getting everything respectable again is painful with my klutzy hands, but I manage to get laced up semi-decently before stepping away from the tree that braced me though the whole ordeal

"Thanks," I murmur and pat the bark before stepping around its bulk to face my companions again.

Without acknowledging what they may or may not have heard, they bustle about, a meat roll shoved into my hand as our few things are shouldered and we move out. Part of me wants to object to carrying nothing but my skin and sword. The rest of me is grateful for the break.

A long time passes in relative quiet, only Mary Margaret and Mulan speaking to compare notes on navigation. When we break for lunch, I collapse once again, barely rousing for water, a few cold veggies and a drumstick of something I can't even identify.

I'm never going to get used to this bizarre place...

"Emma?"

Aurora's hesitant voice rouses me from a light doze and I blink up at the girl. She still looks unnerved, not that I blame her, but is making a good effort to hide it.

"What happened to Hook?"

Not the question I would have expected at all. The memory of the dark-haired woman left in that arrogant jerk's place fills my mind's eye and I have to hope that he... she got out safely. Haltingly, I retell what happened at the giant's castle, knowing all three of them are listening. Even once we get underway again, I continue to pour my guts out, until I’m too weary to speak and plod along in a numb haze.

Even Aurora waking from a nightmare late in the day as we break for the evening, babbling that she met Henry is some bizarre netherworld, barely cuts through my daze. Luckily, some part of me, not driven insane by this impossible change, remembers that I have a beat up picture of Henry in my jacket pocket. And, by some miracle, Mulan has kept the scraps.

"The boy you saw in your dream, is this him?"

"Yes, that's Henry."

"That's impossible. It was a dream." This is baffling and I just can't get my head around it. Weakly, I add, "How could you dream of my son?"

"I have no idea."

It's obvious that it kills Aurora to not be more of a help. I understand her feeling helpless; I understand it all too well.

"Maybe it wasn't a dream."

Okay that makes us all stop and collectively stare at Mary Margaret.

"What?"

Yes, that really is all I manage to stammer out.

She and Aurora talk about red rooms of flame, about sleeping curses, about a way home through a dream. Feeling sick at the thought of home, I want to just give up, make them leave me here, curled up on this floor of this damn impossible forest. My life as I once knew it is over, time and time again this has happened to me since Henry showed up on my doorstep. What will happen now? I am trapped in the body of stranger, clumsy enough to endanger my life, unrecognizable to the boy I’ve grown to love.

Sniffling miserably, I can't even find the strength to stir when heavy boots crunch close, leather armor creaks and the rustle of a cloak on the forest floor brushes my ears. "When I lost my homeland," Mulan speaks very, very softly, like the breeze high in the trees. "I too wanted to give up. However, I found that there is always something to live for, Emma Swan. Come, let us help you find a new task. Take my hand."

And, with no strength of my own, I can only rely on hers.

++ Mulan ++

I do not like the risks that Aurora is taking for these strangers, but I do understand it. In honor of my vow to Prince Phillip, I have attempted to talk her out of it, but she is stronger than she seems and is adamant about her choice. I will respect that and help as best I am able.

At the moment she is sleeping, keeping her vow to speak with Henry in the netherworld. Snow fusses over her transformed daughter, who looks like he would bolt if he could. That is a situation that will require a light hand, a blade of grass in a breeze, not a great tree in a typhoon.

As though the universe has heard my thoughts, bodies suddenly burst from the undergrowth, stinking of death. The horde is sticky with putrid blood, skin rotting away and gaping wounds where hearts should be. I think they may have been the other survivors from the camp, but they are monsters now. They will not take us, not while I have breath to fight. Roughly, I shake Aurora, for as always, she is my top priority.

Thankfully, she finally begins to rouse, even as I bash away one of the lumbering undead.

"Henry wasn't finished!"

"The time for that is over."

Driven by my need to protect this nearly helpless woman, I grab her, fight my way through the shambling horde, and leave the strangers behind. Even as she objects, voice shrill and angry, I push her hard, crowd her body with mine; all the while hacking at the walking corpses with the gaping, stinking holes where their hearts should be.

People I once knew that Cora has killed mercilessly.

And somehow she has given them some sort of false life and set them upon us. Later, when we are away from this, I will be very, very disturbed.

Were there so many of us, adrift in the empty world that was once home to so many more? They keep coming, challenging my strength, my skill, my determination. But, at long last, I begin to best them...

Only to find that I have failed anyway.

Panicked, I search in vain, finally brought up short by Snow's arrow, aimed between my eyes.

"They took her. Aurora's gone."

++ Emma ++

Battered and sore and shocked as hell to be alive, I stumble after Mary Margaret and Mulan, tripping and somehow managing to pick myself up over and over again to continue on. I have never hurt like this, an all over body soreness that has reduced me to little more than an animal, trying to survive.

Some giant black bird had swooped out of nowhere earlier to land on a completely calm Mary Margaret's shoulder to deliver a message. Well, if I needed proof that she really is Snow White, I guess talking to birds would do it. Cora has Aurora and it hasn't been easy to keep Mulan from away from the compass still slung around my torso.

We have one last shot. The sleeping potion that Mulan gave me to knock out the giant is made from some sort of poppy. We're crashing through the forest like women... people possessed, driven by desperation and fear for our loved ones.

Everything is fuzzy, my ears, my lungs, my eyes. At this point I have no idea if that's just my condition or my fixed eyes were some sort of brief fluke. Maybe this... thing is wearing off?

Mulan is saying something about dead woods and poppies, forcing me to focus. That makes me notice that Mary Margaret looks agitated.

"You okay?

"Yeah, I’m fine."

Without thinking, I grab her arm-- too hard of course-- and jerk her to a halt. "Hey, wait. Wait. No, you look nervous. This netherworld... how bad is it? What's it like?"

She clearly doesn't want to answer, eyes shifty, but sighs and gives in, pulling at me to keep moving. "It's like you're, umm... lost, drifting in the dark. No one to talk to, nothing to do except think of all the people that you love, and how you'll never see them again."

"Henry was lost in that dark too, because of me." My anguish runs deep, this failure to the son I’ve grown to love. Mary Margaret pauses again to peer at me curiously.

"What are you talking about?"

"He tried so hard to convince me I was the savior."

"Stop it," she tells me, clearly exasperated. This is a side to my former roommate I haven't really seen before. "Stop it. No one would've believed Henry's stories."

"But his mother..." I choke on the word, "should have."

++ Mary Margaret ++

It's time for me to step up and reassure this adult child of mine. Somewhat roughly, I shake a heavy shoulder to refocus her... his wandering attention. "Okay, you want to play the blame game? If I hadn't told Cora about Regina's true love, Cora never would have killed him. Regina wouldn't want revenge. The curse never would have happened. We could spend all day trying to figure out why each of us should feel guilty, but it won't help us get home."

Those big, wet puppy eyes should be outlawed, they're nearly irresistible. "You really think we're going to make it back?"

Adoring this person, no matter what form he may have, I curl a hand over his shoulder and smile. "If there's one thing your father's taught me, it's not to give up. Now, it's time to go back to sleep."

Emma is still conflicted, but follows me anyway as we hustle to catch up with Mulan. She has thankfully found the flower, a beautiful scarlet gem in this dense forest.

"It's beautiful."

Ignoring my admiration, Mulan cuts the delicate bloom and busies herself over it. Somehow, the loss of the rare flower hurts and I don't quite understand why.

"I'll use my dagger to crush the seeds," Mulan explains even as she goes about the task. "We're doing this the old-fashioned way."

Paralyzed with nerves, I find a cushioned spot at the base of an enormous tree and settle down. My fear is sharp and memories of that hellish place make it difficult to not broadcast to a clearly worried Emma. She... he, is still plenty astute, despite his own trauma.

"The powder's nearly ready," Mulan volunteers as though reading my thoughts and I try to be analytical about this.

"How long will the effects last?"

"It's difficult to say. Maybe an hour, or much less."

"Well, I shouldn't need much time. As long Henry's in there when I am."

Carefully folding himself up, Emma scoots close enough to take one of my small hands in his. "I'll be right here. Say hi to my son for me."

I want to say something to be reassuring, or to be reassured myself, but there are no words forthcoming. The hazel green eyes, dark with worry and vulnerability are the last thing I see as Mulan blows the dust at me and darkness closes in.

FF- Regina/Emma, Once Upon a Time. G to Explict. 20 in 20 challenge for Once Upon a Land, round 6

shatterpath — Tue, 29 Oct 2013 00:41:23 GMT

1: Blue
Shivering with the cold, Regina stared out over the expanse of water she would never be able to explore. How ironic that the ignorance of the curse she had thought punishment to her minions had been a blessing in disguise. Once again, it was her lot to suffer, this time by her own hand.

"Hey."

The now-familiar voice no longer made her jump, she no longer shied from the hands and body boldly embracing her, staving off the cold. Tearing her eyes away from the depressing sight that should have been beautiful, REgina turned and snuggled into Emma's lean frame.

Her haven and her real redemption.

2: Royalty
"Forget it."

Emma never enjoyed making her mother wince like that, but the line had been drawn in the sand and Emma would not cross it. Period. The effort not to cajole or even threatened was a physical effort on Snow's part, she was nearly vibrating with it, the delicate fabrics in her hands shaking.

"You're not wearing me down on this. The frou-trou trappings of royalty are not my deal and you are not draping me in that. No pastel, fluffy Disney colors. Ever. Period. I don't even own underwear in those shades."

Smiling slyly, Emma hip-checked Snow lightly. "Now, that kickin' white leather getup of yours? I'd do that. Or maybe raid Pops' closet." Reluctantly, a smile played about Snow's mouth. "Or I could always let Regina dress me in one of her badass dominatrix ensembles..."

Both laughing and wincing. Snow elbowed her grown daughter and once more gave in with a sigh.

"Fine, then let's see about rewriting fairy tale glamor, shall we?"

3: Place
"Place is a mess," Emma commented idly as she kicked at a broken timber, fallen from the dim, cobwebbed ceiling. "You sure this is worth the effort?"

Grunting, her parents hauled up a massive armoire, thrown onto its face all those years ago as the curse tore away the roof nearby.

"It's a castle, not a split-level," David snarked and scowled at the condition of his clothes. How he missed modern plumbing. And showers. A good hot one would have been a blessing. "It's meant to stand through nearly anything. Including being partially exposed to the elements for thirty years."

4: Badass
"So, can you live with that?"

There was a distinctly feline tease in Regina's smoky voice where she watched Emma eye herself critically in the silvered glass. Her smirk was echoed in the mirrored surface as the haunting green eyes met Regina's. Snow, Henry, Emma; all of them bore that distinctive shade, a true inheritance.

"I think I'm going to hire you full time to dress me. This this rocks."

It was no one person's style, but lines and colors and fabrics that represented everyone who meant something to Emma. Delicate white lace layers over snowy leather encasing her slim torso, a heavy, masculine brocade that clung impossibly close to her strong arms and back like a ultra-feminine jacket and the heavy-looking velvet skirt reaching all the way to the floor in Regina's rich, royal purple. The colors might be her family, but the simple, easy to move in cut of the design was all Emma. It had taken some effort for Regina to find a way to make it look elegant, but this result was worth it.

5: Heartbreak
"Y'know, we promised we wouldn't do that."

Regina winced at Emma's calm, tight tone as she stepped from the deep shadows cast from the massive stone walls. Quite a change from the screaming row they'd had what felt like moments and lifetimes ago.

"I'm not good with promises," Regina husked, rasping her nails against the stones that kept her from a long, deadly drop. Even with her face turned away, she could feel Emma's hurt and temper flare before both were tamped down. Once more, she would compromise, step back from old, bad habits. Taking a deep breath, Regina steeled herself, forced herself to be vulnerable again. "I'm sorry, Emma. I don't know what came over me."

"I'm sorry too," Emma ground out, hating the vulnerability as much as her companion. Padding over on quiet, bare feet, she stood close enough to let the heat of their bodies mingle. "Though I suppose a nice, normal screaming match is pretty healthy, considering how that could have gone."

The huffing laugh was drawn involuntarily from Regina and she leaned into Emma's side until a strong arm wrapped around her shoulders and the fight began to be the past instead of the present

6: Family
Despite the chill of winter hovering close, the whole family was out enjoying the clear, crisp day. Henry was caught up in an archery lesson, his growing frame trembling with the effort of pulling and holding the taut string, looking down the arrow to sight his distant target. He'd shed that last of his little-boy built and was both slimming down and bulking up with the rigorous workouts with his grandparents and his blonde mother, tempered with lessons and learning to truly ride horses with the mother who raised him.

The clatter of hooves almost distracted him, but Henry held his concentration and still managed to put the arrow just to the left of the bullseye.

"Excellent!" David crowed and slapped him on the back hard enough to make him stumble. Where they had just cantered up on the back of their horses, who danced and steamed in the chilly air, his mothers joined Snow's applauding and the young man bowed to them.

How he enjoyed their happy laughter.

7: Water
In the depths of winter, Emma could have done without so much damn water. It found its way into cracks and crevices in the old castle, keeping an annoyed Regina busy tracking down the insidious little leaks and magicking them away. It surrounded them with the lead blue of the lake that provided fish and entertainment and the occasional danger. It pounded down from the sky in torrential rain or soundless snow and that one hailstorm that had wrecked several roofs in the village the survivors of Storybrooke had built.

But there was certainly a good side to water. Kept a body hydrated, a fact Emma took advantage of as she drank deeply while she walked back to her rooms after working off some of her winter blahs, and cleaned up that same body well, another fact she intended to cash in on as soon as she could.

8: Love
"It must be love," Emma sassed, getting a kick out of watching Regina hang laundry on a line, of all the incongruous things, swaying to a song only she could hear. But there was no reaction to the tease, or to Emma's presence at all and she approached curiously. Ah, that was it. White wires trailed from beneath the dark hair and draped into a shirt pocket. "You sneak!"

Squeaking in shock, Regina dropped a handful of damp cloth and spun to face Emma, eyes wide. Grinning wolfishly, Emma pressed her advantage, making Regina step back, but grabbing her in a hug before she stumbled and fell. Freeing a hand, she tugged a wire and the tiny earbud fell away.

"You found out how to recharge this thing and didn't share?"

Flustered by the proximity in so public a place, Regina smiled shyly. "Just this morning. I've missed this music. Even your horrid, screechy nineties music."

"Smartass."

9: Deception
Regina debated with herself for half a day, trapped again between her old life and the one she found herself in now. Part of that was not using magic unless there really was no better way to get the job done. Like patching the leaky roofs. Someone could killed trying to do that, so she sent out smoky wisps of power to find the little cracks and cement them tight. Or to conjure up the occasional article of clothing or exotic fabric, simply because they no longer had the means of creating them any other way. Or finding a way to recharge Emma's iPod so that once more, the songs of the world they left behind could be theirs.

But magic was also why she forced herself to learn tasks once deemed menial to her; laundry, harvesting crops, tending the ill, mucking out stalls after her beloved horses. They were things she was never allowed to do, first by her domineering mother and later because she was just too well trained, caught up in the royal part of her life.

There was little left of anything royal here, all of them pulling together to survive in this harsh place. Never the easiest place to live, the Enchanted Forest was now so much more dangerous having grown wild for three decades.

And that was why she and Emma snuck off to learn magic together, one to learn it again and one for the first time.

Who knew when the skills would come in handy.

10: Team
"Heave! One, two, again!"

Straining, the citizens gathered for the event, strained against the webbing of ropes and the massive framework of timbers settled with a muffled, faintly alarming thud into its mooring. For a moment, no one moved, holding their collective breath as the structure swayed faintly before growing still.

The collective cry of triumph was not feigned.

Enemy and ally had stood shoulder to shoulder and the first building in this land grown to be a stranger to them was officially on its way to being more than a pile of boards and beams cut over a very long, hard winter.

"Never in a million years thought I would be part of a honest to Abe barn raising," Emma commented, tugging off her work gloves and grinning at her compatriots. With unconscious ease, she went to Regina to check the elegant hands that once did nothing more strenuous than pen words to paper. There were a few blisters, but the callouses had mostly done their job. Satisfied, the pale woman gave those dirty fingers, once so dangerous and now so helpful, a loving squeeze.

Category - Life Story
5 of your chosen medium focusing on a character's development (i.e. stages of their lives/aging/changes)

Curse of Innocent Ignorance
Regina could never know the plans in place centered around her birth. A tiny, curious child with grasping hands and a loving heart. She was always starved for attention, not understanding that her mother bore no heart, that her doting father lived in fear. That knowledge would come later, a gradual darkening and dampening of her spirits. The servants tended her, kept her safe and warm and fed and well-educated, but they hardened their hearts, lest they lose them to Cora's cold wrath. The child, warm and loving, was no more than a commodity, merely the means to an end.

The Curse of Broken Spirit
The lessons never came easy. For, while Regina may have been a sweet, good-natured child, she was every inch as stubborn and single-minded as her mother. Still, her emotions were always her failing, the chink in her armor that Cora exploited time and again. But Regina never completely gave in, disobedience and sometimes even rage keeping her from the destiny her mother had decreed for her. Then, came dear, sweet Daniel, her beloved stable boy who was everything she ever wanted. In him, she saw the future she wanted, not Cora's gilded cage. In him, there would be no fear, no unwanted destiny.

And then came a girl on a runaway horse.

The Curse of the Lost and Insane
When a person is truly in the grips of madness, how can they know it? Madness by its very nature breeds ignorance and amorality. Madness is the insanity of selfish wants, of not caring enough for others to give a damn about whether they lived or died.

Regina was deep in the grips of madness for a very long time.

Deprived of the quarry she was convinced would stop the pain that drove her like vengeful demons, she grew ever more desperate and insane. No one could reason with her, no one could stop her and she ruined herself and all those around her again and again.

Curse of the Found
The hate had felt so real.

A coiled, hissing viper of rage and loathing, reflected back in green eyes so like her mother's... and Henry. Like wild animals they circled and growled, gradually softening in the mundane magic of familiarity. Slowly, so slowly, they began to see the reflection of one another past the emotional armor that weighed them both down so heavily, they may as well drown. The hurt and fear at their core bled through more and more, making the armor slam back into place over and over again, but slower each time.

Regina couldn't say when she actually started needing the Savior.

Curse of the Pain and Relief of Healing
Facing all that she was would be the hardest thing Regina would ever do, trying to come to any sort of sane terms with who she was and what she had done. Not the least was being instrumental in Emma growing up alone.

It turned out the words she had never been allowed to speak were her own key, the magic she needed to at last free herself and heal the wounds into scars. So, she talked, a great outpouring of all she had ever been, the lancing of the infection of her very soul. Her vulnerability gave Emma the freedom to slay some of her own demons, to release her own words. When the weeks of emotional floods at last began to slow, there was a great stillness of only her... and Emma.

There was no going back, no changing what they had been, only a road forward that, despite their weariness, they could travel together.

Artist/Author's Choice
5 of your choice. I decided on a line from my kinkbingo card and, although a tough order, I'm quite pleased with the results!

Obedience/Disobedience
It taken a long to bring this scarred soul to this place of trust, but it had been worth it all.

"You know," Emma remarked idly as she eyed her lover's rigid stance. "It wasn't a difficult task."

The exaggerated stance was purely for Emma's benefit. Regina clearly felt ridiculous, locking her muscles to stop from squirming... or trembling. Feet apart, fingers linked tightly at the back of her neck, the pose bowed her just a bit, throwing out the rich curves of breast and ass for her lover's benefit. But there would be little or no active pleasure for her like this, only frustration and sensual punishment that would make her burn.

A hard crack of something unyielding left a stinging burn on her left asscheek, making Regina grit her teeth and breathe deeply. She knew pain, had known it her entire life, been driven to the depths of madness by it. But only Emma had made pain a pleasure. Only she understood the relief of these adult games, the calm brought on by the burn. Again, the crack and burn struck, this time on the opposite side. A half-dozen blows softened Regina, despite her nature to fight anything good, and a sob caught in her throat as the pleasure began to pool around the stinging heat.

But relief wasn't to hers quite yet, Emma's quiet order accompanying her teasing touch on Regina's straining body.

"Don't move..."

Virginity/celibacy
While Regina was no stranger to sex, there had always been a very important aspect of the physical act that she had always been missing.

She had never once loved.

Even kisses had been manipulation, a selfish act, ever since her hope had died with Daniel. Then Emma had started patiently pursuing her, wanting ever more than merely the raw pleasures of lust. Oh, they had that too, but the intense blonde quietly persisted in pushing just that little bit further, pushing down the walls brick by brick. And during the process, her own pains lessened, the green eyes warming and softening.

And, in time, Regina handed over the virginity of her heart, weeping with the new ecstasies of more than just body, but of heart and soul. A redemption of love.

Authority Figures
"Weird being back in your office, Madame Mayor?"

It was, but Regina was loathe to admit it. Her grasping and clutching at any shred of power and superiority was deeply ingrained. So she merely watched the sheriff stride arrogantly across her spacious office, a streak of brightness against the hard angles and brutal décor. The office had been decorated to show Regina's power, merely a reminder now of how much things had changed.

"I sat here, competently running this dreadful little town for your entire life while your world went on without us, just fine," Regina seethed and Emma sighed and refrained from rolling her eyes. Mostly. The endlessly intricate puzzle that was her lover was a challenge the blonde loved, but it was tough sometimes. Well, the door was locked and lunch could wait a bit...

Eyes glittering, Emma lunged, making Regina squeak in shock and recoil. In an instant, the older woman was leaned back almost dangerously far in her fancy office chair, a strong grip on the back of her head pinning her tight. The evil grin curling Emma's serious mouth froze Regina in place, one hand gripping the trailing edge of the familiar leather jacket, the other clinging to the armrest.

"Y'know, sassing the sheriff could land you in hot water, citizen," Emma growled, thrilled at the way the brown eyes went nearly black with need, deep breaths hitching, her body squirming. "Maybe you'd like that?" Trailing her free hand over Regina's luscious curves, Emma pushed the game. "Lock you up in one of those chilly cells again? Leave you in there, stewing in your own temper and need?"

The part of Regina that craved control, that black, evil part of her that raged over these games, was horrified by the where they were. This was her bastion of power, inviolate, the core of her role during the curse. And, as she always had, Emma had bashed her way in, forcing chaos and change into Regina's life, once as cool and ordered as her décor.

But the fire between them burned away all those illusions, reduced her need for control to the wet heat that turned her muscles to jelly and her mind to little more than raw need.

The whimper of surrender was as strangled and reluctant as it was honest and Emma's grin turned feline. "Now, no need to fear, Madame Mayor. I'm always here to protect and serve."

Objectification
Clothing had always been a tool for Regina. A symbol of status and intent as surely as a knight would wear armor and carry a sword. Even in this dreadful land, she had maintained the habit of her wardrobe being part of the role she played. The severe skirts and brutal heels and expensive shirts all played into her position of power.

But Emma had stripped that power away, and reversed the roles.

The afternoon had been enlightening, turning the utilitarian delight of beautiful clothes and accessories into something erotic simply because Regina had given up control. She hungrily watched the shadowed hazel-green eyes where Emma lounged indolently on the big bed. There was hunger there, but there was also arrogant control, making Regina wait, making her stand there passively, reduced to being little more than a curvaceous canvas for the glorious things she once wore with power.

"Turn around."

They had covered a wide spectrum of looks with this game, some of which would have never occurred to Regina to ever put upon her person. A few had actually horrified her in their cut and color and she hoped to never remember that particular humiliation.

"I like the purple," Emma mused, feigning indifference to the show, but enjoying this game immensely. Standing, she moved to place her hands on Regina's hips, making the other woman catch her breath. The gown was skin-tight velvet, flowing over her curves like paint, the back slit dangerously low, the opening glittering with tiny gems like stars. With her thumbs pressed together in the small of Regina's back, Emma concentrated, pouring her emotions and need into the sorcerous power they both wielded. While her own magic was still a bit like flailing around a china shop with a hammer, her control ever improved, and this time she was richly rewarded as the deeply purple fabric began to stain blood red. The back yawned open further, the clear crystals shifting, some flickering to echo the new color of the dress. The sleeves flared longer, loose around Regina's forearms, almost hiding her hands and the already high neckline crept higher, encircling the darker woman's vulnerable throat.

Regina swallowed hard as the already severe ensemble shifted on her like a living thing, tightening around her waist and hips, making her gasp at the grip. Fear and lust made her heart race, sweat beading on her skin, the panic held at bay by the warmth of the hands on her hips, those thumbs anchoring her spine.

With a deftness of magic Regina would have never expected, Emma brought her just to the razor edge of panic at the grip of what had only been mundane fabric, before once more, they were playing at erotic dress up. Shifting take a hand, Emma came to stand before her panting lover to critically eye her handiwork.

"Lovely."

Bloodplay
There was no mistaking the feral hunger in the dark eyes, the wolfish smirk at the corner's of Regina's lush mouth. It had been a long time since Emma hadn't been able to read her mercurial lover, find the combination lock to the treasure trove of her body and heart. But this was an unexpected return of the dark, vengeful madwoman she had once been. In the way she stared, all the months of love and redemption seemed stripped away. This would be a delicate night.

In truth, Emma didn't really feel up to the mental gymnastics tonight. She'd broken up a drunken brawl and taken a half dozen hits that feel even worse in the morning. So much for being a knight in shining armor.

Then she noticed that hungry gaze on her collarbones, riveted there... like a hungry vampire. Okay, this was a new one, but Emma hadn't earned Regina's trust by balking easily. There was blood there, in the fabric of her torn tank top, where she'd gotten grazed by something in the tussle. The red was livid against her pale skin and the dusky bruises blooming like ugly, dark flowers. The EMTs had scrubbed out the cut and placed a little square of gauze there, ignoring Emma's complaining, but now she reached up to pick at the tape.

What was it that had Regina so riveted this time? Was it seeing Emma's body so battered and rendered vulnerable and so very human? Or was it the raw slice in her skin? The reminder that she too could be wounded and laid low by damage. Uncaring the why, Emma focused on the unexpected rawness of the moment, peeling away the gauze with a hiss, both from the tape and in pain from her own lips. Crooking her finger in invitation, Emma smiled and tilted her head to allow the light to caress her damaged flesh.

"Come."

Team Unity Fanmix for Once Upon a Land

shatterpath — Wed, 16 Oct 2013 02:26:23 GMT

Once Upon a Time, season 2 finale review. Now, with pictures! Ooooooooo....

shatterpath — Fri, 31 May 2013 02:36:05 GMT

Remarkably, the finale started to remind me of things that made me fall in love with this show in the first place. I've been positively giddy and it's a thrill! Yes, dammit, I did just watch it the day before this challenge was due! I just haven't been able to find any energy to get fired up to watch the Tivo and 'Second Star on the Right' didn't help. Not a bad episode, just kinda boring. But it set the finale up nicely, so that is a redeeming quality.

Regina at her complicated best, begging for the redemption the idiocy of the bulk of season 2 stole from her with little explanation.

Snow, at her smart, empathetic best, insisting on taking the hard way and at last making me believe the bizarre behavior after sacrificing Cora.

David, not being useless scenery and actually manning up without being a cornball.

Grumpy giving that cure to Rumps to save Belle? Awesome.

Hook actually growing a personality. Who knew? It was about damn time we learned enough about him to give a crap about him. And the bristly sexism has more than run its course. Seriously.

Young Bae! I've always liked him. And Neal's unselfish sacrifice, while a bit heavy-handed, did bring him up in my eyes. Still don't really care for him or his mediocre actor, but this was a vast improvement and I do feel bad that Tamara screwed him over. Particularly as we learn more and more about what he's been through.

Henry, at long last, stopping being such a selfish little prick and remembering that he really loves all these people. Even if he had to lose Neal to learn it.

There was no real standout scenes with Emma, just a lot of good, solid work from Morrison. It was nice to see her actually get a chance to act instead of stand around.

And I still don't give a flying frick about Rumpie and Belle. It still feels cheesy and contrived and frankly, I think DeRavin kinda sucks. Oh well...

Everyone was amazing in this ep and it's about damn time the actors have been allowed to utilize their craft instead of being marionettes to the egotistic assholery that was so prevalent so much of season 2. The Two Idiots (yes, I'm looking at you, Adam and Eddie) need to get over your 'artiste' phase and get this damn show back to its strengths. Characters we give a crap about and stories that are not lame. Buckets and buckets of talent has been wasted during much of season two and the finale was like a breath of good air after being underwater too damn long.

Postscript:

Oh, and the SwanQueen subtext? Be still my little fannish heart! And Badass Granny ™ with action crossbow accessory! Oh, and Ariestess and I have decided that Greg and Tamara (could they have created any cheesier characters or hired cheesier actors?) are the Team Rocket of OUaT. Mostly incompetent and completely corny.

I love how the stories of Regina and Snow are being blended again, exemplified by the mixed tears here. Getting back to their roots is such a necessity! And Henry's grownups racing off to the rescue! Yes, yes, you beautiful show, how I have missed you.

Episode Fanmix!

shatterpath — Thu, 14 Feb 2013 00:41:57 GMT

1- Dwarves at the town line.
S.O.S.- Abba
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cvChjHcABPA

2- Regina and Cora.
Not Insane- Sarah Bettens
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f7VnKVdmIZk

3- Looking for loved ones.
Going Out of My Head- Fatboy Slim
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tmw94O9OWRE

4- Regina and her need for magic.
Anthem- Filo & Peri (ft. Lumiere)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BMaT_CBCnps

5- Gold and his continued macinations.
Burn It Down- Linkin Park
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dxytyRy-O1k

6- Rumpelstiltskin and young Regina.
Magic Dance- David Bowie
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1xAAGh-3sw0

7- David convinces them to stay.
One Tribe- Black Eyed Peas
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WoFKE4cdi70

8- Regina lets Henry go.
Arms- Christina Perri
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MeW0Sl0tNS8

9- Hope revives Storybrooke.
The Rose- Bette Midler
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oR6okRuOLc8

10- David and Henry miss their loved ones.
Wait It Out- Imogen Heap
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P58tNCBlr3U

11- Lost and trapped in the Enchanted Forest.
Far Away- Nickelback
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j4y-RzVGrHg

12- BONUS TRACK- Keep hope alive.
Candle On the Water- Helen Reddy
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TQmBfI2uXJo

shatterpath — Tue, 12 Feb 2013 06:08:37 GMT

This project is HARD! Proof that I'm wildly out of touch with femslashdom. Darnit! I suppose that says something in and of itself...

Writing challenge!

shatterpath — Sun, 10 Feb 2013 05:35:21 GMT

So, Once Upon a Land (challenge community, btw) has a bitchin' new challenge that I got my prompt for today. Me and Geek get to collab! Woot! We have the idea of Emma buying/borrowing August's motorcycle and taking Regina for a ride. *waggles eyebrows* With a prompt of 'serendipity', this shall be doable!

And Geek? TAG, you're it!

Ahahahhahahahhahahaha!

Oh irony...

shatterpath — Sat, 09 Feb 2013 06:51:58 GMT

I only just realized that I'm working on a (sorta) het fic... during this femslash half-moon thing. **rolls eyes** No damn wonder I have nothing to talk about! lol.

But I watched an awesome SwanQueen fanvid today that I'm sharing. Enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rAl5rnuh6kc

Dangit!

shatterpath — Fri, 08 Feb 2013 08:39:13 GMT

I missed the 7th! I suck at this daily thing...

AJ did a really nice meme on SwanQueen that I'm gonna link too because I suck...

http://ariestess.livejournal.com/1922584.html

shatterpath — Thu, 07 Feb 2013 04:59:28 GMT

Hmmm... what is today's theme, eh?

I did a mess of reading when I couldn't sleep and I feel, in a great many ways, that I'm not doing justice to Regina as a muse. Why? Because of the overwhelming angst of the character. Even what we know of her is complicated and often horrifying. Can you image what we DON'T know? But, since I suck at true angst, I end up writing Regina-lite.

But I love her anyway!

Sigh...

shatterpath — Wed, 06 Feb 2013 03:28:32 GMT

So much for posting every day! Alas. Anyway, moving on. Both the 3rd and 4th were wrapped up a massive research project, so I'll go with that. Since a pregnancy is involved in my latest project, I did a MESS of reading on the subject. Not only do I like details in my fics (I am notorious for researching some things to death), but it can often lead to story ideas!

Today is a weird subject, possibly even *gasp* controversial! So, I'm working on a genderbend tale where half my current girl couple gets changed into a man. Unlike when I did this in Reflections with Art and Janet, this time the change will be permanent. So the question becomes... is it still femslash?

SwanQueen!

shatterpath — Sun, 03 Feb 2013 05:39:35 GMT

I love this newer genre, I truly do. Once Upon a Time is a really interesting universe and Regina in particular is endlessly fascinating. Anyway, a few days ago, I was looking at some screen caps of the Mills house and I realized that I was writing inaccurately about how it was laid out. Cue my inner architect! Through said screencaps (with some help from Google and Bing maps) I have been mapping out the historical John R McDonald house in New Westminster, British Columbia. It's nearly done and is hours and HOURS or research and best-guessing measurements. So, this genre has tickled are sorts of my muses!

So it's Femslash Febuary!

shatterpath — Fri, 01 Feb 2013 20:02:13 GMT

Or, Half a Moon! It's a good excuse to honor women and I will do my best to come up with a post every day. Yay!

So, years and YEARS ago, there was an awesome fic that I still remember to this day. It was the Birds of Prey fandom and all I can remember is Helena making Dinah laugh by making 'nacho cheese' jokes. My search engine fu has SUCKED lately and I've had no luck. But, if nothing else, I will appreciate the memory and enjoy the chuckle every time I eat nacho cheese.

I can haz help from flist?

shatterpath — Sat, 12 Jan 2013 01:14:17 GMT

There's probably not even anyone watching this anymore, because I SUCK at posting, but in case there is...

I desperately need some eyeballs for an epic that has taken over my brain. But it's... complicated. It's a Once Upon a Time (duh) that veers off canon at the Giant's Castle. It then parallels canon fairly closely before scampering off into the weeds to romp about. BUT the real twist is that it's a genderbend. With boy bits. Hey, I'm so desperate to write smut again, that I gave it a shot. There are lots of gaps, because AJ is writing half of it too, but I'm twitchy over if it flows okay and I need some prompts for some gaps in time.

*raises a stiff drink* Here's to hopin'!

I WILL pull out the puppy dog eyes.

Just sayin'...

Late, oh so late!

shatterpath — Fri, 14 Dec 2012 09:36:20 GMT

Fic! Yay!

shatterpath — Fri, 30 Nov 2012 13:06:03 GMT

My apologies for there not being a cut. honestly, I don't remember how. This challenge was 20 'Once Upon a Time' drabbles with a word count between 95 and 110 words. It was harder than I thought it would be!

1: Angry
Learning a healthier outlet for my anger has not been easy. No more psychopathic outbursts for me. Exercise, meditation, Archie's kind and non-judgmental sessions, all of it helps. But just plain love is the greatest incentive and reward. And my odd family doesn't really let me do most of it alone, bolstering up my scarred soul with their presences.

Jogging is actually one of my favorites, if only because the whole clan will participate in whole or in part. Emma loves it when she's not working, Henry has been surprisingly enthusiastic when he's not in school and even Ruby can be persuaded, despite the long hours she works.

2: Sad
It is a constant in our lives, the ache of sadness that comes from loss and regret and sometimes, even circumstances. Even Henry has too much, it lingers in his eyes, despite how happy he is now. Everyone in town shares a group sadness, brought on by my own madness and pain and sadness.

I do my best to make up for that sadness when I can, to bring any spark of joy. For any small bit of happiness I have a part in makes me happy too, a healing energy that has no equal.

3: Silly
They get so silly sometimes, a state of mind I rarely understand. There's no rhyme or reason to it, the strangeness coming and going like weather changing. We could be doing something completely ordinary and not funny, and suddenly one or all of them are giggly and weird. More often than not, I have no idea what the hell they find so funny.

But I've learned to enjoy their merriment.

When I’m the instigator, the goofing off gets particularly over the top. I was never allowed this freedom of emotion and I relish it when I can.

4: Celebration
"So what's the occasion?"

Ginning like a madman, Henry wrestles in the heavy breakfast tray, squawking in alarm as he nearly upends it all over the big bed. Emma's hand lashes out to steady the tray, surprising both Henry and myself. I had thought her still asleep.

"I just wanted to do something nice and I was up early."

"That's sweet, kid. Since I’m totally not willing to actually get up yet, feel free to settle that thing on my back and let your mom eat. How'd that test go yesterday?"

It is the perfect celebration of an ordinary day.

5: Love
I never expected her, never hoped for what she's made me feel. Truthfully, I fought it, though not as hard as one might expect. Wounded and scarred, I had no hope for love, no place for it in my heart... except for my soft spot for the boy I adopted. Then Emma came into our lives and everything changed. Our angry, hateful dance was rife with electric tension that now has a much healthier outlet.

There are fireworks in the bedroom, certainly, but our love is more encompassing than that. There are ordinary moments too. Coffee in the morning, family dinners, lazy days off, picnics and homework and colds.

I love it.

6: Crossover
They are adorably horrible with their freakishly enormous eyes and technicolor coats. Oh please let me be dreaming. Trotting about my house on what have to be actual hooves, they chatter among themselves and ask me odd questions. Really, are horses supposed to have wings and fly? And no unicorn I ever met was violet! I itch to use magic on them, to find out if they are somehow impossibly real, or I have simply just lost my damn mind.

Hands over my ears to ignore the incessant questions, screwing my eyes closed to valiantly pretend that they don't exist, I pray for the cartoon nightmare to end.

7: Villain
I played the role for so long that the crutch of it is nearly impossible to resist. No more can I lash out in reaction, strike down those that sneer at me, that mouth off at the edge of my hearing. So many times I’ve swallowed down my visceral reaction to others, forcing myself to turn away, to retreat rather than become the villain once again.

For my family and the few actual friends that have gone through the effort of slipping past my pricky armor, I do my best. Their emotional bolstering gives me strength and helps keep away the allure of just taking what I want.

8: Black and white
"Hey sexy, need a ride?"

Emma's laughing voice makes me smile and lean over to peer in the open window of the old police cruiser. "Why Sheriff Swan, is that a proposition?"

Arrogantly leaning back against the upholstery, she grins with wicked intent. Arrogance does sit well on her, particularly when she's on duty. "Well, Miss Mills, that depends. Done anything naughty lately?"

Laughing at her cheesy attempt at charm, I lean my elbows on the window edge and my smile feels goofy and lovesick even to me. "For you? Anything."

And I have never spoken truer words in my life.

9: Hero
So many people have become my heroes. Who knew? Emma and Henry are obvious, as is my unexpected pack mate of Ruby, but so many others have come to actually mean something to me. Prickly old Granny Lucas and her gruff acceptance, my renewed friendship with Kathryn, my utterly unexpected armistice with Snow and Charming, Archie's enthusiasm in helping me heal. Even the dwarves and fairies have started cutting me some slack.

Precisely because I don't deserve their compassion or understanding or forgiveness and many of them have offered it anyway, makes them heroes to me.

10: Team
"Go Team Mucus!"

Ruby's shout makes me pause in my reading, unsure that I’ve heard her correctly. Giggling, Henry returns the high-five as they celebrate whatever goal they've accomplished in the video game they've been playing constantly for weeks now.

"Mucus?"

Thank all the holies my son asked, because I was about to.

"Sure!" Ruby enthuses as they dance around the living room. "Mills, Lucas, mucus! Totally makes sense!"

Even I have to laugh at her for that. I'll have to call Emma so that I can be the one to tell her this one, beating 'Team Mucus' to the punch line.

One character, five relationships. Ruby
11: Emma
She was the first one to see past the ill-fitting facade and persuaded me to see beyond it too. Offered me as much friendship as she was capable of through her own inherent wariness and discomfort as she grew roots here. Now, she is our greatest asset, a powerhouse that saved us from our curse and continues to be a source of strength. From the mundane to the intensely personal, Emma excels constantly, even if she has trouble believing it sometimes. Being lucky enough to find a place in her heart, her home and even her bed has been a boon to my scarred soul, bonding me to her forever.

12: Regina
If someone had told me how I would grow to feel about Regina, I would have thought them mad. But here we are, sans curse, and my life and love are bonded not just to her, but the rest of her pack as well. For my dual nature, it is an enviable position, appealing to woman and wolf both. Besides, Regina makes an excellent co-alpha, with her combo of strong and vulnerable. As different from her former, wacko self, she is surprisingly easy to love. She opened her heart and her home to me. What more does a wolf need?

13: Henry
I've never had a sibling before. Heck, outside of Granny I’d never even had a family until I befriended Snow. Now, I have a bright and fun little brother. Our age gap vanishes when we play, his naturally sunny personality bringing out my fun side. There are serious moments too, when he comes to me sad or confused or too embarrassed to talk to his mothers. Somehow, I have become a safe haven for certain subjects, an ear who won't judge and only lightly teases out of love. With all the changes he's going through, I’m happy to help.

14: Granny
What child has any real understanding of their parental figure? Certainly not me. Always at odds, always subservient to her more powerful personality, I never understood her motivations until it was far, far too late. I've long since forgiven her silence, accepting that she really was just trying to protect me from my fate. And protected by her aloof, prickly adoration, I learned to be softer and kinder. There is no repaying that. We have found a warm middle ground of comfort between us, the once biting words playful and somehow loving. And still, she watches over me and I feel loved.

15: Snow
Who knew how my life would change that cold morning in the hen house? A stranger who engendered a trust unwarranted, who led me to danger but also to wholeness. A stranger who taught me to love simply for love's sake. I had never been an equal before and yet she treated me that way effortlessly. I had never been accepted so completely and without judgment before. In her, I found a path to myself, strengths I never knew I had. For her I became more that I was, more than I ever thought I could be.

Five of my choice
16: Costumes (Ruby)
"You could always go as a werewolf."

A sour look at Regina makes her burst into giggles and Emma to growl and lunge like a movie monster at Henry. Only they could make jokes about my deadly alter-ego, but I've heard worse.

"Only if you go in your old evil digs."

"Oh, I was thinking more along the line of those slutty Red Riding Hood costumes we see online."

Dammit, she makes it sound so sexy and appealing... and I know that I’ll be agreeing to this even as it embarrasses the hell out of me.

17: Sleeping in (Emma)
"Jeez, is that really the time?"

My slurred question sets off a flurry of crazed activity, startling me. It takes a few long seconds to get my brain functioning and I can start yelling at my lovers.

"Hey. Hey! HEY!" The bellow finally makes them both pause, eyes wild. Shaking my head, I glower affectionately. "Day off, you freaks. The one we've been planning for weeks? Chill and come back to bed. There's plenty of time to warm up the sheets again before we decide what to do with our day."

They're both awful cute when they're sheepish.

18: Family (Henry)
It's been weird, all the stuff that's changed at home. I went from one mom to two and then they got together and we were all happy and then they got Ruby involved and things have actually gotten even better. Yeah, it's weird, but it works. I get more cool grownups than I know what to do with, even if they're all girls, I get serious mom and fun mom and the best goofy kinda sister who's a werewolf! My mom has become the kind of person that's hard not to like once you see past all her baggage and stuff. And Emma's actually really good at this family stuff.

19: Second chance (Regina)
Giving up control has been shockingly freeing. Who knew all those damn psychologist types were right? Old pleasures long forgotten have become available to me; horses, gardening and best of all, love. I'd long since given up on that magic, done too many evil things for someone to love me. Even Henry had eventually turned on me, no more than I deserved.

Then came along someone as scarred as I, who too had seen and done terrible things. Together, our ragged edges make a solid whole, able to include others to love as well. It's more than I deserve and I will fight for it. And them.

20: Love (Granny)
Really, it's scandalous. Really, I couldn't care less. A lifetime of that poor, sweet child so alone, the horror of our family curse kept at bay by only a red cloak. But these three see past it, just as Snow White had once done, and for that, they have my loyalty and whatever love I’m capable of anymore. Emma with her sincere and awkward affection, Henry and his boyish adoration, even Regina and her clumsy and oddly sweet efforts at change for the better. They make my granddaughter ecstatic happy, hopefully for a good, long time.

That's all that matters to me.

shatterpath — Sun, 04 Nov 2012 14:42:46 GMT

GAH! The research I do for stories! A week by week breakdown of pregnancy, lunar eclipses and important world events of 2008. *shakes head*

shatterpath — Sat, 27 Oct 2012 10:55:09 GMT

Just to warn anyone still keeping a lazy eye out for me? WARNING. Come Halloween, I'm going to spam the CRAP out of all of you! I shall be pasting up my Once Upon a Time bingo fics and there are a MESS of them! Apologies or thank yous in advance....

shatterpath — Tue, 18 Sep 2012 02:12:45 GMT

So, a voice actress randomly deciding to follow AJ on Twitter got me thinking. Voice actors are like underwear. Let me explain where I'm going with this. They are an absolute necessity, but no one knows about them. They cover all colors, shapes and sizes, but no one sees them. After learning up a bit on a few from MLP, it's astonishing the range of voices these talented people can pull off. For all of you pros out there that have voiced so many carton characters that we have loved over the years, a heartfelt thank you.

So....

shatterpath — Sat, 15 Sep 2012 10:50:36 GMT

I'm still alive! No, not writing much, as the urge has been sporadic at best, but Spotty got me into the group onceuponaland. This has been both inspirational and frustrating. How I suck at graphics! At some point, I'll do a big post of the fics and poetry (yes, you read that right) that I've been accumulating, including some reasonably prolific bingo prompt fills.

My goals are more fic and hopefully learning enough about some sort of photomanip program to get some projects done. And a holiday job, beause I am so frickin' tired of being in this basement! :)

I'm in decent health, as is Spotty and the kitties. Life plods forwards as it always does. I'm doing okay. That's good enough!

Hey strangers!

shatterpath — Sat, 15 Sep 2012 10:22:40 GMT

If there's anyone still watching this, I have a fun list of fannish questions I stole from AJ. So, pick a number! Pick several numbers! I'll get 'em all answered within a weekish, if only because I can't leave them unanswered forever.

1 - Your current OTP. (geekgrrllurking)
2 - A pairing you initially didn’t consider but someone changed your mind.
3 - A pairing you have never liked and probably never will.
4 - A pairing you wish you liked but just can’t.(geekgrrllurking)
5 - Have you added anything stupid/cracky/hilarious to your fandom? If so, what?
6 - What’s the longest you’ve ever been in a fandom?
7 - Do you remember your first OTP? If so who was in it?(geekgrrllurking)
8 - Do you prefer characters from real action series or anime series?
9 - Has the internet caused you to stop liking any fandoms? If so, which and why?
10 - Name a fandom you didn’t care/think about until you saw it all over tumblr your social network sites.
11 - How do you feel about the other people in your current fandom? (theonlyspl and ariestess. Greedy, greedy, gals! *g*)
12 - Your favorite fanartist/author gives you one request. What do you ask for?
13 - Your favorite fanart or fanartist.
14 - Your favorite fanfiction or fanauthor. (theonlyspl)
15 - Choose a song at random. Which OTP does it remind you of?(geekgrrllurking)
16 - Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas).
17 - A ship you’ve abandoned and why.
18 - A pairing you ship that you don’t think anyone else ships.
19 - Show us an example of your personal headcanon. (ariestess)
20 - Do you remember what your first fanwork was? (theonlyspl)
21 - Self-rec: What's your favorite fanwork you've created?
22 - Are you one of those fans who can’t watch anything without shipping?
23 - 5 favorite characters from 5 different fandoms. (geekgrrllurking)
24 - 3 OTPs from 3 different fandoms.(geekgrrllurking)
25 - A fandom you’re in but have no ships from.
26 - Just ramble about something fan-related, go go go.