But instead, there was nothing. No body.
Just a top hat.
• • •
Outside, Emma and Mary Margaret looked for any sign of Jefferson. It was morning now, and the sun was crawling up over Storybrooke. Emma was exhausted.
“Who was he?” Mary Margaret said quietly, hugging herself, looking out at Storybrooke.
“A lonely man,” Emma said. She smiled at Mary Margaret. “Maybe the better question is how long have you been a black belt?”
“I don’t know what came over me,” she responded, looking up at the broken window. Her eye seemed to catch something else, though, and she said, “Emma, look.”
Emma looked where she was pointing and saw her car, hidden under a tarp, parked behind a garage.
“So, Sheriff,” Mary Margaret said. “I guess you’ll be taking me back now?”
Emma sighed. “Run,” she said.
“What?”
“I won’t stop you.”
“That’s not going to help anything.”
“I’m not so sure your arraignment will help anything,” Emma said. “What’s important is that you choose. You get to choose, not them. You’re my friend, and in my life, friends have been my family.” She put her hand on Mary Margaret’s shoulder. “I mean that. I’m not going to abandon you.”
Mary Margaret smiled.
They walked up to Emma’s car and pulled off the tarp. “Everyone thinks I killed Kathryn,” Mary Margaret said, “but I didn’t. Still, I think we can beat this. I don’t want to run.”
Emma nodded.
“Good choice,” she said.
Her friend Mary Margaret wasn’t out of the woods, not by a long shot, but as they rode back toward town, Emma felt a strange new peace wash over her. Neither woman spoke. Mary Margaret looked out the window, her forehead leaning against the glass as though they were on a family road trip, and they were both coming to the end of a long journey. She believed her friend. She believed in her innocence, and she knew that Mary Margaret wasn’t capable of harming Kathryn. They were in this together, for better or worse.
“So you think,” said Mary Margaret, not turning to look at Emma, “he was crazy?”
Of course was what she wanted to say, but she knew that Mary Margaret was asking about something bigger. Emma had entertained the idea, if only for a moment, that it was all real, that Henry’s stories weren’t stories, but histories. Part of her longed for it to be true, but her better sense told her it was foolish. For the first time, though, Emma considered how desirable it would be for Mary Margaret to believe she had a daughter, and a true love, and a whole history that meant love in her life. Probably pretty appealing.
“I do,” Emma said quietly.
“Yeah,” Mary Margaret said, finally turning to look at Emma. “Me, too.”
CHAPTER 14
THE STABLE BOY
They got Mary Margaret to the courthouse in time, and not long after that, Emma was locking her back into her cell, her heart heavy. Things had not gone well—the judge had determined there was enough evidence to proceed with the murder trial. Mary Margaret wasn’t saying anything. As of now, she was still on the hook for Kathryn’s murder.
“We’re both exhausted,” Emma said. “You sleep. I’m going home to sleep. I’ll see you again in a few hours.”
Mary Margaret nodded, her head down.
“Have faith, Mary Margaret,” said Emma. “Have faith.”
Emma walked slowly down Main Street, her head fuzzy, her body used up after the adrenaline and excitement of the night at Jefferson’s mansion. Rather than tired, though, she felt tense and worried—she doubted she’d be able to sleep. She considered taking a walk, she considered heading back to the toll bridge in search of new evidence. Anything to spring Mary Margaret. But when she saw Henry sitting in the diner, having a morning cup of hot chocolate before heading off to school, she smiled and went inside. Sometimes the real world was too much.
“Hey, kid,” Emma said. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“I know what you’re doing here,” said Henry. “You came for story time.”
“Maybe so,” Emma said, nodding at Ruby for a cup of coffee, and as Henry dug around in his book, Emma thought back to that moment with Jefferson, when he asked her to accept it. To believe that all the stories were true. She’d believed for a second while she pretended. And it had felt good.
“Have you ever wondered,” said Henry, “why Regina really hates Snow White so much?”
“Yeah,” Emma said, not bothering to correct him and call Mary Margaret by her actual name. She was more interested in asking Henry about Jefferson, or the Mad Hatter, but she didn’t have it in her to encourage him. She was fine with him telling her stories, but the other way around made her the Mad Mother.
“It goes back a really long way,” Henry said, pointing to an illustration in his book. “It goes back to when Regina was a girl, when she was in love with a stable boy.”
“Regina knows how to love?”
“Ha-ha,” Henry said, but it wasn’t a laugh, and Emma thought: I am being too glib with this kid’s heart. Regina had raised him, after all. It wasn’t as simple as Emma wanted it to be.
“So what happened with this stable boy?” she said. “And what does it have to do with Snow White?”
“Regina’s mom was really, really mean,” Henry said, “and she had magic. She started out as a peasant and married this rich lord guy, and she was determined for her daughter to be a queen one day. To have the ultimate power. And then one day, Regina was out riding and this little girl shot past on a horse, totally out of control. Guess who it was?”
“Hmmm,” said Emma. “Snow White?”
“Yes!” Henry cried. “And Regina saved her, and Snow White’s father, the king, was so happy that he proposed to Regina.”
“Uh-oh,” Emma said. “Which meant the stable boy was screwed.”
“Kind of,” said Henry, showing her a new picture: This one showed a young couple in a stable, both of them terrified, staring at an evil-looking woman. “Except Regina tried to say no and stay with the stable boy, and her mom killed him right in front of her.”
Emma frowned. “Jesus,” she said. “That’s awful. This book is really for kids?”
“It’s for whomever.”
“I don’t get why Regina would hate Snow White, though,” Emma said. “What’s the connection?”
“Snow White accidentally told Regina’s mom about the stable boy,” Henry said gravely. “That’s how the mom found them up there. So Regina always thought that her one true love ended up dead because of Snow White.”
“That’s… incredibly sad,” said Emma.
“I know. And do you know what makes it even worse?”
“What?”
“Regina didn’t tell Snow White that Daniel ended up dead. Snow White never even knew how bad it was.”
She had more questions—Whatever became of Regina, then? What happened next?—but she was distracted by a commotion outside of the diner. A few people were running down the sidewalk, and a crowd seemed to be gathering across the street. Emma squinted and stood. “Hold on, Henry,” she said, and she jogged to the door and headed across the street.
There were about twenty people gathered around something, but Emma couldn’t see what. “What’s happening?” she said, coming up to them. “What—”
She stopped short and stared, amazed by what she saw.
It was completely impossible.
But somehow, it was happening.
Kathryn, ragged and skinny and staring up at all of them, her face and clothes covered in dirt, was sitting in the middle of the alley.
Alive.
• • •
The ambulance arrived a few moments later, and Emma sent Kathryn on to the hospital. Before going herself, she had a quick errand to run. She went right to the police station.
Mary Margaret was asleep on her cot when she came in, but she stirred when Emma closed t
he door. “What is it?” she asked, seeing Emma stride up.
“You’re free,” Emma said. “I’m dropping the charges. Kathryn is alive.”
“She’s—what?” Mary Margaret said, sitting up, still groggy. “Can you even do that?”
“I don’t know,” Emma said, “but I’m doing it.”
“How is she alive?”
“She’s alive because she was never in danger,” Emma said. “Not any real danger, anyway.” It was a hunch, but the hunch was developing in her mind.
She opened up the cell and Mary Margaret stepped out. “Get home, get some rest, clean up. I’ve got a whole lot of questions. But one thing’s for sure: You didn’t kill anyone.”
“But you knew that already,” Mary Margaret said.
“Yes,” she said. “I did.”
Across town, Emma arrived at the hospital as Dr. Whale finished checking over Kathryn. David was there, sitting outside her room. He did not look well.
“How is she?” Emma asked.
David looked up and nodded at her. “I think she’s okay, I don’t know,” he said. “This whole thing…” His voice trailed off.
“How are you?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Happy. Sad. Overwhelmed. I’m just so relieved she’s alive.”
“That seems honest,” Emma said.
“Do you—do you know how Mary Margaret is doing?”
“She’s okay. She’s relieved, too, obviously. But I think she’s been pretty traumatized by all of this. As you might imagine.”
“I want to talk to her,” David said.
“I know” was all Emma said in response.
“So what do I do?” David said, when he realized she wasn’t going to offer any more.
“Maybe right now, the best thing is just to do nothing,” Emma said. She left unsaid what the two knew to be true: Mary Margaret didn’t want to see David. Not after he’d so easily lost faith in her.
David nodded.
He got it, Emma knew. He probably didn’t want to think about it, but he got it.
She went into Kathryn’s room.
Dr. Whale was saying something to Kathryn, and after a moment of listening, Emma realized he was talking to her about his watch. “… still the only Swiss watch with no Japanese parts, and it costs more because—”
What is it with this guy? Emma thought.
He stopped when he realized Emma was standing in the room.
“Sheriff Swan,” he said. He gestured toward Kathryn. “She’s awake, as you can see.”
Emma ignored him, went to Kathryn’s bedside.
“Kathryn, I’m Emma Swan,” she said. “We met at David’s homecoming party.”
“I remember,” Kathryn said. “You’re the sheriff. And roommates with Mary Margaret.” Emma heard some tone there. Not great tone.
“That’s true,” she said, “but I’m not here to play favorites. I don’t want to take a lot of your time, but if you can remember what happened to you, or if you can help us in any way…”
Kathryn nodded.
“I don’t remember much,” she said. “I had a car accident. I remember the air bag going off. The next thing I knew, I was in the dark, in some basement. I didn’t see anyone, but there was food and water. After that, I don’t know. I guess I was drugged.”
Dr. Whale nodded. “We’re still trying to flush it out of her system,” he said. “But she was. Definitely.”
“I woke up in a field near the edge of town and just started walking,” Kathryn said. “That’s all I can tell you.”
“You never saw anyone?” Emma asked. “You didn’t hear a voice, smell any perfume? Cologne? No details at all?”
“Nothing. I wish I could help, especially since… while I was gone, everyone thought I was dead? Is that right?”
Emma looked at Dr. Whale. “Who’s been gossiping?” she said.
Whale shrugged.
I do not like this guy, Emma thought.
“I figured she needed to know,” he said. “She’ll read about her heart in the paper eventually, right?”
“Excuse me,” said Kathryn. “My heart?”
“You don’t have to worry about the details right now,” Emma said quickly, not quite knowing how to explain to the woman that her heart had been found in a box. “What’s important is that you’re safe.”
“Although we do now know that somebody had to have doctored those DNA results.”
“DNA results?” Kathryn said. “What are you talking about? I really don’t understand.”
“Don’t worry,” said Whale. “Yours is still right where it’s supposed to be. The police found a heart and it was believed to be yours.”
Great, Emma thought.
Kathryn, looking aghast at this detail, turned back to Emma. “Who would do this?”
“Somebody trying to frame Mary Margaret,” Emma said. “We don’t know who. Yet.”
Kathryn shook her head. “Why?” she said. “Why would anyone do such a thing?”
“We don’t know,” Emma said.
• • •
That night, the party celebrating Mary Margaret’s release was very well attended. Even August was invited.
As Emma sipped some punch and watched August mingling, she wondered about the odd man who’d come to town so recently. She could not figure him out.
She came over just as Henry and Mary Margaret came together. Henry told her that he had a card to deliver. It was from the entire class of children at school, and it read, “We’re so glad you didn’t kill Mrs. Nolan.”
“Why thank you so much, Henry,” Mary Margaret said, taking the message in stride. “Please tell everyone I’ll be back soon.”
“I also got you a bell,” he said, handing her a little box. “For the class.”
Emma smiled. When she looked up, Gold was watching her, and he nodded to the corner of the room. She walked over.
Emma decided to lay it all out for him: “I don’t know what you’ve been doing with Regina, but I know this whole thing isn’t as clean as you’re pretending it is. You two somehow manufactured this. I don’t know how, or why, but I know something is going on.”
“What would possibly make you think I had any agreement with Regina?”
“I don’t know,” Emma said. “Call it a hunch.”
“Hunches are not evidence,” Gold said, “and you are a sheriff.”
“Were you the one who made Kathryn appear out of thin air?”
“You speak as though I have magical powers,” Gold said.
“Sometimes it seems like you do,” Emma said.
“I don’t understand,” Gold said. “Are you proposing that I was both working with Regina and against her?”
“I don’t know,” Emma said. “Maybe you were working diagonally.”
“Perhaps,” said Gold. “It’s always hard to tell with me, isn’t it?”
“Yes. It is.”
“Let me ask you a different question entirely,” he said. “What do you think of this stranger? This August? Do you trust him?”
Emma looked over at him. So did Gold.
“I’m starting to.”
“His full name is August Wayne Booth,” said Gold. “It’s obviously a false name.”
Emma was silent for a moment, and then she said, “Writers use pseudonyms. I’m not worried about August.”
“So you do trust him, then.”
“I don’t know if I trust him,” Emma said, “but I trust him a whole lot more than I trust you.”
“Oh, you should trust me more, Ms. Swan,” Gold said. “I always follow through with my agreements.”
“You always say that, too,” Emma said.
“I do,” said Gold. “Because it’s true.”
• • •
The next morning, Emma was at the diner, trying to enjoy a quiet cup of coffee for the first time since Mary Margaret had been released. She didn’t know why, but she didn’t feel as relieved as she’d expected to. Sure, her friend was out
of danger, and Kathryn was safe, but she’d seen too much, and sensed too many backhanded dealings, to really feel as though Storybrooke was “cleaned up.” If anything, she now knew how broken it was. And if she didn’t know any better, Sidney Glass, former editor of the Storybrooke Daily Mirror, was drunk again at eight in the morning. He was in the corner booth.
She shook her head, hoping he wouldn’t do anything that would require her to take him to jail. He claimed that Regina had fired him because of the election, but Emma suspected she still didn’t know the full story. What she did know was that Sidney had it bad for Regina. She’d suspected before, but some of his ravings during those late-night arrests, were about “her” or “that woman.” Glass never quite revealed who he was talking about, but it was pretty obvious to Emma, especially after he’d so willingly been Regina’s lapdog. The two seemed to have had a falling out, but Emma didn’t trust him and she never would.
Unfortunately, Glass saw her soon after she saw him, and he stumbled over to her booth and sat himself down.
“Mr. Glass,” Emma said. “Probably not the best time to be drunk.”
“Every time is the best time to be drunk,” Glass said. He nodded once, as though confirming this idea to himself.
“What do you want?”
“I want to explain to you,” Glass said, “that this town has all sorts of secrets.”
“Not news to me,” said Emma. “But thanks.”
“I’m not so sure you know about all of them,” Glass said. “Don’t get cocky.”
“Let me guess,” said Emma. “You’re about to tell me about more of them.”
“One, maybe,” Glass said. “One or two. I know what you’re thinking: Regina did something to that girl. And I know what else you’re thinking: Gold has something to do with it, too. Am I right?”
Emma said nothing, just stared back at him.
“Looks like I am.”
“I’m just glad she’s safe, Sidney,” Emma said, getting to her feet. “I hope you stay safe, too.” She dropped a couple dollars on the table, and Glass looked at them blankly.
“Hope springs eternal,” said Glass, still staring at the bills. “It has to.”
“Hope is fine,” she said. “But I like evidence. And truth.”