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Chapter Text

Rose Foxley twisted her hands as she walked. It was Thursday morning – just after 8:00 AM – and she was late to work.

Rose Foxley – or Fox, as she liked to be called – was a young woman of average height with an olive complexion. Fox was speedy, with a strong back from moving inventory all by herself. She liked her tea dark, but sweet. She wore a lot of pink. One of her eyes was just slightly darker than the other. She was self-conscious of her difficulty with whispering, the tendency for her voice to pitch louder on random syllables no matter how hard she tried to control it. And she really, truly, hated being late to work.

Granted, it wasn’t as if there was anyone to scold her for it, save for herself. She had no boss to speak of, no regular customers who would be upset with her in any way. Fox was her own boss, but she was a harsh one.

Despite this, she still chose to walk to work; down the steps of her apartment, through the streets of Storybrooke, left at the sheriff’s station, right at the library, scurry past the crowd at Granny’s, and straight down to her shop’s door. This was the walk she took almost every day. Through dragons and demons, sorcerers and stabbings, and that one abominable cold spike last year, she made the trek across the town to her little jewelry shop. Except on Sundays. The shop was closed on Sundays. And there was one person in town who knew the schedule better than anyone.

“Fox! There you are.” Henry Mills stood outside Three Gem Jewelers, and Fox noticed right away that he was twisting one hand in the strap of his backpack. “You’re late.”

Fox gave him a look, but it melted quickly into a smile, and she pulled her keys out of her purse. “Or could it be that you’re early?” she asked.

“Right,” Henry dragged out the word. “So, you got a busy day today?”

“Why? It’s not Tuesday, is it?” Fox swung the door to her shop open and walked in ahead of Henry. She reached for the light switch plate and clicked down the line of buttons without looking.

Three Gem Jewelers was a small shop, and Fox had maximized the space as best she could. Only two of its walls were lined with counters, but those counters were always full. The walls were light green, the floor was vinyl, and the free-standing display cases and cabinets sparkled from within and without – even after a full day of neglect. Fox took a deep breath at the doorway before moving aside so that Henry could follow her. While she turned to a new key on the ring in her hands, she heard him shuffle in behind her.

“No, we’re not due for tutoring until next week.”

Fox unlocked the Dutch door at the far wall of her shop and stepped through it and behind the counter. “Thought so,” she said. She set her purse beside her on the floor.

“I’m actually here to ask for your help for today.”

“Help with what?” And more importantly, could she count her cash and listen to him at the same time?

Probably not, but worth a try.

Fox still wasn’t looking at Henry. Opening the shop was a process, and she never deviated from it. First, she would sign into her electronic cash register. She would count the cash and make plans to go to the bank around the corner if need be. Then, she’d dust every glass surface, and sweep the floor, and vacuum the rug at the center of it. She would clean whatever mess of paperwork she might have been too tired to straighten up at her desk in the backroom on the previous closing. It was only after all of that was done that she would unlock her front door for good – or at least, for the business day. With Henry standing right at the front of her shop before she could get anything done, she already knew she would need to skip at least one of those steps for the sake of time. Maybe she should draft his assistance.

“Well, we’re taking names from the refugees from the Land of Untold Stories today. It’s sort of a mini census. We’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

“And so you came to ask the only real jeweler in town to abandon her post on a Monday morning?” Fox glanced at Henry over the small stack of $10 bills in her hands with a smile. “How could you deprive the people of this fine cursed town their nice, sparkly things?”

Henry laughed and walked farther into the store. “Come on, we could really use your help. You’re good with details.”

“True.”

“You might even pick up on things I’ll miss,” Henry said slowly. Fox glanced at him again with one eyebrow raised. She was halfway through the stack of bills now. “What? It’s true.”

Fox’s other eyebrow joined the first she had raised, and she dropped her gaze. “C’mon Henry, you know I don’t like crowds.” Which wasn’t exactly a lie, but it was more that there were certain people in Storybrooke that she did not want to see. Henry didn’t need to know that – Fox knew he would try to fix it. She shuddered to think of it.

Henry shook his head, seemingly undeterred. “Look, you’re the first person I thought of to ask for help. But I guess if you’d rather not…”

Finally, Fox dropped the stack of bills to the counter and gave Henry her full attention. “Okay, who taught you to lay it on so thick?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, so you’re just naturally an evil genius then?” Fox folded her arms in front of herself. Henry rested his hands on his backpack straps and looked back at her far too serenely, his brow only slightly raised, one corner of his mouth barely lifted. He waited.

Fox held out for as long as she could. She could feel the tension creeping into her shoulders, but try as she might to convince herself otherwise, she knew she was going to help this boy. It had been more than twenty-eight years since she had gotten involved in any sort of heroic deed. Best to get it over with.

She gave as heavy a sigh as she could muster and looked down at her watch. Henry gave a little huff of air that sounded suspiciously like a triumphant chuckle. Fox narrowed her eyes at him but couldn’t fight the smile on her lips. “You’ve got one hour.”

Henry nodded. “That sounds perfect. Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Fox grumbled. She picked her purse up from the floor beside her. Henry laughed and led her back out into the chilled autumn air.

“So, I don’t think every refugee will be at Granny’s today.”

“Busy, are they?”

“Well, to be honest, I don’t think we could fit everyone,” Henry told her sheepishly.

Fox looked down at him and pressed her lips into a tight line. Henry’s brow pinched right between his eyes and his hands tightened on his backpack straps. Fox sighed through her nose and shook her head, facing forward again. “So, we take names?”

“Yep, and we try to match them up with names in my books.”

“How many books do you have now?”

Henry glanced up at her. “A lot.” Fox gave an impressed grimace.

As she pushed open the front door of Granny’s and held it open for Henry to enter the diner first, she heard the end of Mayor Mills saying something about togetherness. The citizens and refugees present applauded, and Fox wove through the crowd to sit at the bar, setting her purse down in front of her. Fox watched Henry walk to the front of the room to talk to his mom, but Fox stayed put in her seat. The mayor was one of a few people in Storybrooke who she was not quite excited about seeing.

Suddenly, a familiar voice sounded right beside her. “Fox?” When Fox turned to her right, she saw who had spoken.

“Belle!” She immediately opened her arms, and Belle embraced her. “You’re awake! I’m so happy to see you, I was worried.”

“It’s so good to see you too! And to see you here. I never thought I’d see you at Granny’s,” Belle said. Her voice read neutral. Her face read about time. The corner of her mouth was lifted into a satisfied smile.

Fox tucked her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, neither did I.”

“Wait, are you…” Belle sat down and looked around at the crowd. “Are you here to help?” Fox gave her a look, but Belle’s smile only grew.

“Don’t sound so surprised, it happens.”

Belle narrowed her eyes, raised her chin, and folded her arms on the bar top. Her smile was growing more impish by the second. “Right.”

Fox rolled her eyes, but there was nothing for it. She looked at Belle without an ounce of annoyance, and with only a bit of self-consciousness. “Henry asked. Very nicely.”

Belle feigned offense. “Hey, I’m nice,” she insisted.

Fox’s brow flickered upward. “Sure,” she said, dragging out the word. Belle laughed and Fox grinned at her. “So, how are you doing? Are you and the Dark One still–?”

“Oh, no. We’re not together at the moment.” Fox nodded but said nothing and tried to push down the small wave of relief creeping down from the top of her skull and into her formerly tense shoulders. Belle gestured backwards towards the door and said, “Hook is going to give me a place to stay for a bit, but I saw you were here and wanted to say hello.”

“Oh, are you sure? You know you can always stay with me.”

Belle tilted her head and rested a hand on Fox’s arm. “Thank you, but Rumple would expect that. He knows we’re close, and I need some space from him for a bit.”

Fox set her free hand gently atop Belle’s. “Okay. Will you please let me know if you need anything?”

Belle nodded. “Yes. Thank you.” She patted Fox’s arm and stood. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yes, you will,” said Fox, playfully raising her eyebrows. Belle walked over to where Captain Hook stood by the door.

Almost immediately, Henry sat in the stool Belle had just stood from. Fox turned to him. “So, where are we with that list?” she asked, eager to get to work.

“Here.” Henry slid a mostly blank sheet of notebook paper to her, a ballpoint pen sitting atop it. “My mom just told me who’s missing today, and I’ve already written them down, so now we just need to get down everyone’s name who’s here now,” he explained.

Fox gave a single, hard nod. “You got it, chief.” Henry smiled at her, and she couldn’t help but smile back. Fox looked down at the paper in front of her. There was a column for names and a separate column for number of children. She asked Henry about it.

“Well, Grandma figured with all the untold stories around here, it might be good to keep the kids out of it. And Storybrooke does have a daycare.”

“Huh.” Fox raised her eyebrows. “That’s a good idea.” She looked up to greet the first person to approach her: a little brown man in poufy dress, complete with a large yellow top hat. Fox gave him a smile she hoped was warmer and less tight than it felt. “Hi,” she said, “what’s your name?”

She and Henry had barely finished taking down his information when Henry’s grandparents bustled up to the three of them from somewhere at the back of the diner.

The prince spoke first. “Henry, how’s that list going?”

Snow’s eyes moved to Fox and she hesitated. “Oh, hello.” The man with the top hat – Mitul was his name – moved on to pick up some lunch and Fox turned to give the princess her full attention.

“Hi, sorry, we haven’t met.” Fox held out her hand. “I’m Fox, I run Three Gem Jewelers by the bed and breakfast.” Snow shook her hand warmly.

“That’s right,” David said with recognition in the lines of his forehead. He looked at his wife. “You remember? I got your last anniversary present there.”

Snow’s face lit up. “Oh, that’s right!” She turned to Fox. “It’s so nice to meet you!”

Fox returned her smile. “It’s really nice to meet you too,” she said. “And, honestly, I’m not sure how you two have time for anniversaries with all the fighting and general insanity that happens in this town.” Snow laughed and looked up at David as he responded, wearing an expression not unlike that of a tired parent who has finally remembered why the late nights, early mornings, and very sticky house are all worth it.

“Well, we make time.” He settled an arm around his wife’s shoulders and looked at Henry again. “So, have you written down everyone who’s not here?”

“I think so.”

“Are you sure?” Snow asked. “You’ve got the Dolittles?” Henry nodded. “The Pixleys?” Henry briefly glanced down at the list, then nodded again. Snow gasped. “Oh, and, of course, we can’t forget about Dr. Jekyll,” she added.

“And Mr. Hyde,” David added grimly. Fox, who had been helping someone new, froze and looked up at the Charmings. As soon as the brightly dressed woman at her side had moved on, she spoke up.

“I’m sorry, did you just say ‘Dr. Jekyll?’”

“Well, yes,” said Snow, frowning. Henry rifled through the story book on the counter. It was clear from just one look at the illustrations that this was not his original book. No fairytale princesses to be found here.

“Why, you know him?” asked David, also frowning. Finding the page he was looking for, Henry slid his book closer to Fox. She inclined her head and gazed down at the illustration of a tall, imposing man standing over a much smaller, wide-eyed fellow. They wore the same clothes, but that was as far as their similarities went. For one thing, the man on his feet was clearly scruffier, and sporting a set of mutton chops to boot. The man on the floor had lighter hair, but a more tanned complexion. But the thing that stood out the most was how terrified the man on the floor seemed.

Fox didn’t look up as she answered. “We crossed paths a long time ago.” For a moment, none of them spoke. Then, as if suddenly remembering where she was, Fox took in a breath and lifted her head, looking to the crowd gathering to her left. “So. Who’s next?” The Charmings glanced at one another, but let it go.

“Why don’t we go and direct people? Maybe help with some of this chaos,” David suggested to Snow.

She nodded. “Sounds like a plan. We’ll see you in a bit,” she said to Fox and Henry.

“Okay,” Henry agreed. The Charmings turned to go, and Fox thought they seemed to be muttering to one another. Before she could worry about it, Henry was speaking to her. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Fox swallowed. “I’m fine, Henry. It’s just been a while since I was around this many people.” She glanced around the room and, for a moment, she saw a great hall of stone and a well-dressed turnout. Quickly, though, Granny’s came back into view with its diverse crowd of people who needed help. “It takes some getting used to,” she said distantly.

“Hm.” Henry frowned but said nothing else. Fox tried not to dwell on whatever he might be thinking.

Over the next hour, they made an extensive list. People from dozens of realms had come to Storybrooke, and whenever someone with a familiar name came to the bar, Henry would stop to find them in one of his books. He had brought several with him. And they discovered far more connections between the stories than even Henry would have expected.

Finally, they made it through everyone. So many of the newcomers had questions. Where could they work? Where could they rent? Did something called Billings Root grow in Storybrooke?

Once it had died down, Henry looked over at Fox. “What did you mean?” he asked suddenly. “What you said about Dr. Jekyll, that you’d ‘crossed paths.’” Fox hesitated and considered lying. But then she really looked at Henry. He might have been a kid, but he was still the Author. Whatever she hid from him now, he might just write about on his own. And if Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde were both in Storybrooke, all of the townspeople would find out the truth sooner or later.

Fox glanced around. She had known that getting involved with the Land of Untold Stories would be a mistake.

“Just be careful,” she said quietly, still looking around the room. “Jekyll wasn’t–”

“Henry.” Granny appeared before him, behind the bar. Fox jumped, having been too busy looking in every other direction to notice Granny approaching. She turned back to the bar. “One of these new folks is trying to figure out the jukebox. I don’t have the patience for this, can you take care of it?”

“Of course.” Granny smiled at him, gave Fox a nod, and moved on. When Henry turned back to the bar, Fox was looking down at her watch.

“Oh, y’know what, I’ve actually gotta get going too. Someone’s coming into the shop for a ring resizing and I can’t cancel on her.” She slid her list towards Henry. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I think we got through everyone anyway.”

“Maybe you should give Violet a call,” Fox suggested as she stood and straightened her jacket. Henry gave her a look, but he couldn’t fight the blush rising to his cheeks. Fox chuckled and swung her purse onto her shoulder. “I’ll see you next Tuesday after school for cocoa and literature?” If there was one thing Fox had done plenty of, it was reading. Having been swept up in the second curse, she had missed what could have been twenty-eight years of becoming accustomed to this world. As soon as she was settled in, Fox had set about learning everything she could about Storybrooke, and about the Land Without Magic.

“Definitely.” Henry smiled up at her. Fox returned the smile, patted his shoulder, and bustled out the front door.

Normally she enjoyed the walk, but if Jekyll and Hyde were in town, it was best she lay low. Fox knew she couldn’t hide forever, but she could try. A few steps down the sidewalk, she found herself jogging with no real desire to stop. Before she knew it, she was back at her apartment, closed for the business day and concealed from her own untold story.

Chapter Text

“I was doing as I was told, sir.”

“Yes, but if you can’t be creative, then what good are you as an orderly, Poole? You know the rules: no-one in or out, no matter the cost,” Mr. Hyde drawled. The normally threatening Poole shrunk back. Hyde brushed him off. “Now, get out.” Hyde moved to the window and clasped his hands behind his back, one curled into a tight fist. Poole said nothing, but turned and exited the parlor, and wisely so. He left a gate unattended, and the patients had seized the opportunity to escape.

Hyde knew that many of them had no need of an asylum, but playing the warden had been…fun. His lip curled upwards at the flashes of memory in his mind – shouting, slamming doors, tearful confessions of stories untold. He did value the information they had given him. Locked away in his lab were stacks of meticulously kept journals filled with all sorts of useful information. He knew how each and every person he had collected had arrived in the Land of Untold Stories. Now, if only a single one of them had known how to leave.

Establishing the asylum had taken years, never mind filling and arranging it. After all, when they first arrived in the Land of Untold Stories, Jekyll had kept Hyde locked away for so very long. In a way, Hyde understood. But Hyde had known freedom, and he simply could not do without it.

Hyde had had no choice but to whisper from inside the coward’s brain, his rage festering. All he could do was to quietly remind him of the old man; his kindly face, his soft voice, the fact that his murder had been brought on by his simple request for directions.

Murder. Dr. Jekyll had been many things in England. He had gone to some dreadful places in search of a key ingredient, a method he could use to perfect the serum that had caused all of this. Jekyll had passed contraband to his patients – cigars, ale, writing materials – in exchange for more revealing journal entries. But he had always been cautious – caution seemed to be in his blood, even despite his temper. A murderer was new.

Hyde was many things as well, but he would never have slaughtered an old man in the street.

The first part of the plan had been easy, despite being only a fragmented part of Jekyll’s consciousness. Since the doctor’s first dose of the incomplete serum, Hyde had felt his own presence within the doctor. It wasn’t consciousness exactly, but it was more than he’d had before. And so, he had begun whispering.

Let go, he would murmur. Go on, let me take control. You need me, remember? We both know that I am stronger than you. It had taken nearly a month, but eventually Jekyll had felt it. All of the fatigue, all of the anger – Hyde’s anger. There was enough serum left for at least three more doses, and the doctor gladly swallowed one. He set the darkness free.

The rest of the plan was more challenging and required time. Hyde was careful to keep those thoughts to himself as he made the trek through the city. He felt more defined – more separate – from the doctor than he had in England, and he had to take advantage.

The first night he had spent looking around. It was pitch dark outside by the time he made it into the streets, and the few villagers who were out did not go near him. Hyde seemed to repel even the bravest of former heroes, and the roughest of ruffians. He walked for hours, whistling, with his hands in his pockets and his boots scraping a rhythm into the cobblestones. The occasional barkeep would tell him to pipe down. He ignored them.

It was on the second night that he noticed the manor on the hill at the very edge of the settlement. Once inside, he had found the dusty – yet useful – lab. Even Hyde shuddered to think what the manor may have been used for before its abandonment. He tried not to dwell on it, and to focus on the task at hand. Hyde had also found Poole squatting there and enlisted his help in acquiring materials. When Jekyll awoke the morning after Hyde’s second outing, he found five more doses of serum.

It went more quickly than Hyde had anticipated, particularly with Poole’s help. The good doctor used his anguish at the death of the old man he had not even known as fuel. Just who Jekyll was upset with, Hyde was unsure, but it was of little consequence. The serum became his oxygen, and the darkness his escape. And escape he did, over and over for longer and longer periods of time. It was easy. It was exciting. But like any drug, Jekyll found he required more of the foul liquid to escape himself as the weeks dragged on, side effects be damned. What did it matter that he could hardly stand on his own? That his bouts of awareness were growing shorter and far more difficult to maintain? All he desired was relief. He craved respite with the same fervor with which he had once craved recognition.

In the end, Hyde hardly had to do much at all. With the tolerance Jekyll had built to the clear, red liquid, all it took was one particularly large swallow of Hyde’s updated, stronger serum.

Even hours later, there was no exhaustion. Hyde gathered their things and slipped into the night. That night, under full darkness, Dr. Jekyll left his flat for the final time.

At first, Jekyll tried to flee. To return to his humble flat and lock his monster – his creation – away in his mind. When once he nearly succeeded, Poole had suggested a weapon. A baton which crackled and sparked. Hyde agreed and privately resolved to threaten his orderly more often, if simply to keep him in line.

Jekyll gave up trying to escape. He gave up attempting to use the lab. He gave up roaming the halls. The doctor simply gave up and became the groundsman to get away from the patients inside.

Now that they had escaped, Hyde would need a new plan. Then again, Jekyll always had been a coward. Perhaps Poole would be enough now. It was imperative that Hyde remain in control. Even if it meant he remain locked inside his asylum forever.

The Land of Untold Stories was meant to be a refuge. A place people could go to be safe. There was no chance of their stories playing out. And Hyde, knowing nothing of magic, had leapt at the chance.
If he had known then what he knew now, he would have made a very different decision. Magic was always literal, and it always came with a price. A locator spell could lead to remains. Predicting the future could lead to a nasty turn of fate. A land of stories untold was a land where stories couldn’t be told. The Land of Untold Stories was a land without time.

At first, Hyde had assumed that since he wasn’t actually magical, he would age as normal. But no matter how he altered the serum, how he spaced Jekyll’s doses, he remained as sprightly as ever. They had stagnated in a cage. The perfect price for Jekyll, who had tried so hard to create progress and power. A wretched condition for Hyde’s satisfaction.

As usual, Poole pulled him out of his reverie. “Sir!” he called out, out of breath. The door swung closed behind him. Hyde turned to face him as he reentered the room. Poole was limping, and when Hyde looked down, he saw that he was dragging something along with him. “Someone is trying to get inside!”

“What?” Hyde replied, eyes narrowed in confusion. He was the well-known warden of a dark asylum, who would want–?

The double doors of his parlor burst open.

Hyde shot upright at the sound of a loud bang, and the shackles on his wrists reminded him that he was a prisoner once more, this time of metal rather than flesh. Still, it was only polite to acknowledge his guest.

“I see you found my friend. Was she helpful?”

“You knew exactly what the Oracle was gonna show me, so cut the crap. Who’s coming and how do I stop them?”

Hyde answered without looking at Emma. “Why would I want to help?”

“Because whoever it is, I’m going to defeat them whether you help me or not. The only question is who’s side you’re gonna be on when that happens.” Hyde half-turned his head towards her. “So, unless you wanna spend the rest of your life in this box, you’d better start talking.”

Hyde was unsurprised at Emma’s bravado. He turned, and he pulled himself up to face this Savior who was far braver than any other he had met. Even in this small cell, facing a man who could easily snap her neck if she strayed too close, she was putting on a show. I am the Savior, Hyde thought wryly. Hear me roar.

This was a game, and the only way to win was to stay ahead. Hyde had nothing against Emma – far from it – but he couldn’t afford to lose. The trick was not to lie. “Has it not occurred to you that it doesn’t matter who is coming for–?”

“What are you talking about?” Emma interrupted, rolling her eyes. She folded her arms, and Hyde fought down a flicker of annoyance. He needed to shake the confidence he could hear in her voice, but he could not tell if it was even real.

He pressed on. “I’m talking about the story of the Savior.”

“You don’t know anything about my story.”

Hyde clasped his hands in front of him as well as his shackles would allow, one hand curled into a tight fist. He shook his head and moved to the window. It was barely at eye level. “Oh, Emma, how have you made it so far so…” he searched for the word. “…underinformed?”

He heard Emma sigh through her nose. “Underinformed about what?” Her tone was sharp and impatient.

Hyde smirked. “Why, the story of the Savior, of course.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I must say, you’re certainly the most impressive Savior I’ve met. You’ve been at this for a while, haven’t you?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Hyde turned back to face her, standing straight up at his full height. Emma’s face was hard, and her arms were still folded. But even in the dim yellow light, Hyde could see how tightly she was gripping her arm. “That’s right, Emma,” he mocked. “You’re not the first Savior I’ve met. And wherever there’s a Savior, there’s a battle that ends them.

“So, who is it?” she shouted.

Hyde’s smirk grew. “It doesn’t matter who it is. It never does,” he said. “Maybe they’re already here, or maybe they came with me.” He sat on the edge of his bed, back straight, hands clasped, head tilted, and watching Emma carefully. “This is bigger than one adversary, Emma, and it’s much bigger than you.” Hyde paused and straightened his head. “It’s fate.”

Emma was silent for a moment. Then, slowly, she shook her head. “You’re wrong.” Her voice was low and – to Hyde’s ear – only half-convinced. He grimaced and flicked one eyebrow upward, saying perhaps without saying anything.

Without another word, Emma turned and strode out of the cell. The moment she closed the door, Hyde swung his legs up onto his bed and lay back.

He had played this game in the Land of Untold Stories. The countless times he had convinced Jekyll to take the serum. The nights he spent roaming the streets, acquiring his patients. The game was as familiar to him as this damn cell, and frankly, he was tired of it. Of all the untold stories he had brought with him to this strange new land, his own was the most overdue to play out. He was growing restless.

But if Hyde were honest, he felt some trepidation at the thought of facing his weaker half once again. This land was no England, and it was certainly not the Land of Untold Stories. There were no narrow misses for death. Facing Jekyll would mean confronting the very real possibility that he would not survive the encounter, especially now that the good doctor had managed to ensnare the sympathies of so many heroes.

Still, he had been waiting years for a chance like this. A chance to face the coward who had lived in the shadows of his own waking mind for so long and to destroy him, once and for all. This land could be that chance. This Storybrooke. Jekyll had begun the battle for control the moment he drank his first dose of the serum. Hyde had nearly won in his dark asylum, and this Storybrooke might be the place where he could end Jekyll.

Hyde cast a glance around his cell. This was the Dark One’s doing. It had to be. Rumplestiltskin had to know that the heroes would be waiting for someone to cage, and that rat of a doctor would have told them exactly how to lock him away.

It was a rare day when Hyde would admit that having Dr. Jekyll in the back of his mind had been beneficial, but he had to admit it now. Without the good doctor, Hyde was brash. Audacious. He had arrived in Storybrooke with half of a plan and not quite enough arrogance to fuel it. Ironically, this cell had given him the time and the quiet he had needed in order to plan his next move. Defeating the Dark One – controlling his leash – was the only way to begin. Rumplestiltskin was easily the greatest threat to him. Once Hyde could establish himself as Storybrooke’s greatest menace, the fun could begin.

Now, if only he could escape.

Chapter Text

On Sunday morning, at 7:00 AM, Fox finally left her apartment. Down her building’s steps she walked, then through the streets of Storybrooke. Bang a left at the sheriff’s station, veer right at the library, rush past Granny’s, and straight down to her shop’s door. She wasn’t going to open the shop, she was only going to put up a new Closed sign. With Jekyll and Hyde – mostly Hyde – in town, she wasn’t entirely sure when she would be back at work, but it wasn’t going to be this week. She would have to cancel her tutoring session with Henry as well, which meant she needed to come up with a plausible excuse for staying home, and her heart rate was a bit higher than usual with the anxiety of lying.

When Fox reached her shop, her heart rate skyrocketed.

The door was closed, but somebody had broken the glass above the handle, and the inner handle was barely hanging on. When she peered into the shop through the hole, she saw that the register appeared untouched, and the glass counters were intact. Nothing appeared any different than when she had left it, but she could hardly see from the door with all of the lights out.

Fox looked to her left. She looked to her right. She looked behind her. She glanced around the shop through the door. Then she looked to her left again. It was too early for most of the townspeople to be out and about, which was why she was out and about. Which she was deeply regretting.

Seconds passed, then minutes. Fox weighed her options. Storybrooke had never been much for forensic investigation, she could go inside. But every time she thought about going into the shop, something inside her chest squeezed painfully.

Finally, Fox took a step back. Two steps back. Then she turned and ran. She ran straight up the street, past Granny’s, and left at the library. She had no idea if the sheriff’s station was open, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting there, and more importantly, getting away from her shop.

At least now, she wouldn’t need to lie to Henry.

Fox wasn’t sure how long she sat on the bench in front of the sheriff’s station, bouncing her knee and staring at the ground. Her jacket wasn’t doing much to keep her warm in the early autumn morning, and her pink sweater wasn’t picking up the slack. She was aware of a buzzing sensation in her skull, and when a voice pulled her out of her reverie, she immediately forgot what she had been thinking about during the time she spent waiting.

“Fox?” She gasped and lifted her head to find Prince Charming looking down at her curiously. “What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be at your store?”

Before answering him, Fox glanced up and down the street. She had wrapped her arms around herself at some point and she couldn’t bring herself to unwrap them.

“It’s my day off,” she answered distantly. “Can we go inside?”

David frowned, but acquiesced and unlocked the door. Fox stood and waited behind him as he did so. He held the door for her, and she walked through, feeling smaller than usual.

“Is everything alright?” David asked as they walked through the halls, towards what Fox assumed must be the sheriff’s office proper. She had never been inside this building before.

She laughed nervously. “Not particularly, no.” Fox didn’t turn her head, but she saw David look at her out of the corner of her eye. “I need to report a break-in,” she said. David stopped in his tracks. She stopped as well and turned to face him.

“Where?”

“My shop. I stopped by earlier and the door was shattered. I don’t know what was taken, I didn’t want to go in alone.”

He nodded. “Yeah, you did the right thing. Do you have any security footage?”

Fox grimaced. “No. But I know every single piece that’s in there, I can at least tell you what’s missing.”

“Alright. Come on, I’ll come with you.”

And so, he did. The prince drove them around the block in his pickup truck. The drive was silent, and Fox stared through the windshield for all of it. She could see David glancing over at her every so often, but fortunately it was a short drive, and neither of them had time to dwell.

He parked right in front of her shop and hopped out of the truck with a quiet, “Alright.” When he came around to stand beside Fox on the sidewalk, he was holding his gun low, pointed towards the pavement and away from her. David looked appraisingly at the damage to her door, then caught her eye and nodded toward the shop. Fox stepped up to the door for the second time that morning, and this time she opened it.

It only took a light touch for the inner door handle to fall to the floor with a crunch of broken glass. She jumped and hesitated, ears ringing.

“Go on,” David muttered behind her. Fox took a breath and nodded, then pushed the door open. On instinct, she stood aside for David. He raised his gun and approached the door on silent feet but paused in the doorway. After looking around for a moment or two, he walked inside.

He may have been trying to step around the glass on the floor, but it crunched under his feet, nonetheless. Fox stood frozen in the doorway while David walked over to the nearest counter, and he moved down the row and along the back wall to the Dutch door. When he tried to open the little door, it was still locked. Fox was somewhat impressed when, rather than ask for her keys, he simply hopped over it, somehow never lowering his gun. David landed lightly on his feet. He tried the backroom door handle, and it turned under is hand. David disappeared into the little room.

There was silence for a moment. Two moments. Then, the backroom light flickered on, and David emerged. He holstered his gun and shook his head. “No one. Whoever it was, they must have known exactly what they were looking for.”

“How do you figure?” Fox asked.

“They came right in and out,” David explained. “It looks like the front door was the only thing they broke, but nothing else has been disturbed. Maybe they couldn’t find whatever it was?”

Fox ducked her head when she walked through the front door, looking down at the floor and stepping around the broken glass as best she could. A few shards crunched under her black boots, but she managed to evade the larger pieces.

“Let me check the backroom,” she said, pulling her keys out of her jacket pocket. “I always lock it. Someone must have broken in.” Fox unlocked the Dutch door at the end of her back row of counters. David was giving her a look that could almost be described as sheepish, but she ignored it. Her heart was doing something that felt like palpitating, but she was unsure if that was because it was speeding up or slowing down.

David stood aside so that she could enter her backroom. It was small and square, with the same vinyl wood flooring as the rest of the shop. There was a desk, and a chair that was much too large for Fox, but very comfortable. There was a filing cabinet, and when she checked the drawers, she found that they were all locked as she had left them.

The walls were white in here and covered in shelving. The shelves’ contents were always carefully organized, and today was no exception. There were papers and folders, boxes and baubles, and a painted and interestingly shaped rock that had been given to her by the child of one of her best customers. And, of course, there were books. Most of them were tall and thin – jewelry collector’s guides and ordering catalogues. There were a small handful of novels Fox could read when business was slow. There were also one or two spellbooks.

Now, Fox was a cautious person by nature. She did not like to keep spellbooks in her shop, not with all of the jewelry someone might break in and steal. She knew how tempting magic could be, and it would be the easiest thing in the world for a jewelry thief to become a magic thief, and easier still for a magic thief to become a dead, or seriously injured, thief. She was therefore fairly distressed to find that nothing in her backroom had been disturbed except for the shelves, and the only thing missing from the shelves was one of her spellbooks.

“Oh no,” she whispered, voice crackling on Oh and fading out completely on no.

“What? What’s missing?” David asked. His tone was strong. If only Fox could manage that. As it was, she couldn’t look away from the empty spot where her book used to be.

“It’s a book.”

“A book?”

“A spellbook.” She swallowed. “Tall, about seventy pages, purple cover.”

“Old parchment pages?”

“Actually, it’s papyrus—wait. Why?” Fox managed to rip her eyes away from the shelf and look at David, but he was staring hard at the empty spot she had been gazing at only moments before.

“I know who broke in. Come on.”

Without another word, David turned and strode out of the shop. Fox followed him, only stumbling once and only because of the glass on the floor.

“So do I, now, but where are we going?” Fox asked. David was already walking around his truck to climb inside it.

“To Dr. Whale’s lab. You’ll be safer there until we can find a way to finish Hyde for good.” David started the car, and Fox climbed into the passenger’s seat. It was only when she had fastened her seatbelt that David seemed to process everything that had just transpired. He frowned, then looked at her. “Wait, how do you know who broke into your shop?”

Fox faltered. She knew she should have stayed at home this morning. “Well, it was Hyde, right?”

“Yeah, he left a page in Jekyll’s room at Granny’s last night.”

Fox looked away from David, through the windshield. “So, you’re trying to catch him again.”

“Yeah, is there a problem?”

“I think things might be more complicated now.”

“Why?” David’s voice was full of confusion, and a touch of apprehension.

“Years ago, when we crossed paths, I took the book from Hyde. He’s not actually magic, you know.”

David’s truck lurched away from the curb. “He could have fooled us.”

The corner of Fox’s mouth flickered briefly but couldn’t choose between a grimace or a beleaguered smile. “Well, he isn’t. But that doesn’t mean he can’t use magic, and no-one like him should have that kind of power.”

“That’s why you took the book?”

“Now that he and Jekyll are separated, there’s no real reason for Hyde not to use magic against him.”

Fox felt David speed up. They both stared through the windshield in silence for another long moment before David spoke again. “How do you know Jekyll and Hyde?”

Fox might have told him then. She hated to tell the story, which was why she never had. At that moment, though, it seemed just important enough that it might not be a terrible idea to tell somebody with the heroic power to fix the problem of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. But when Fox looked over at David again, she found that something in her throat would not let her say it. It might have been that they didn’t have enough time. It must have been that.

“That is a very long story.” David’s frown deepened, and Fox sighed. “Look, what I don’t understand is why Hyde didn’t break down the backroom door.”

“Are you complaining?”

“I’m questioning. He obviously had no problem breaking into the shop--I mean that was tempered glass.” Fox looked over at David. “It looked like he shattered it like it was nothing.”

“And he probably used his fist too. It looked like he punched through the door.”

“So why didn’t he break down the backroom door?”

David hesitated, frowning. “Maybe he was working with someone.”

“Who would help him? He just got to town.”

“Maybe he brought someone with him who knows how to pick locks.”

There was a jolt, and when Fox looked around, she saw that they were now zooming down the road. Fox settled a hand on her car door and gripped it tightly. “Oh great, he has help,” she said flatly.

“And we still hardly know anything about him or what he’s really planning.” David made a hard left turn onto a roughly paved road, and Fox pressed herself back into her seat.

Fox felt a few cold pinpricks of dread crackle in her chest. This was bad. This was very, very bad.

The drive to Whale’s lab was objectively quite short – Storybrooke was ever such a small town – but the silence in the truck was exceedingly tense, and Fox’s mind was racing. There was no way that Hyde didn’t know she was in Storybrooke. He would have known that she had the book, and the fact that he had been able to find it as quickly as he had was more than a little frightening. She wondered if Hyde had expected to find her at her shop. There was no real way of knowing exactly what time he had broken in. It had probably been late at night, when there would be no-one to disturb or to see him, but even the possibility that he might have found her there was frightening.

When David stopped driving, they were outside a large shed. He hopped out of the truck before Fox did, and she heard gravel crunch under his feet. The way he walked up to the door, she half expected him to draw a sword as he went. She slid out of the car and scurried up behind him.

“Emma should have gotten Jekyll here by now,” David said without looking at Fox.

“Wait, Jekyll’s here?” Something in Fox’s voice made David turn his head to find her twisting her hands together.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Is that a problem?”

Fox twisted her mouth to the side. “It might be,” she admitted.

David stopped walking and turned to fully face her. “Alright Fox, what happened with you three?”

Fox winced, more at the question that at his commanding tone, and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It obviously does,” David insisted, setting his hands on his hips and staring down at her. He raised his eyebrows expectantly. Fox sighed through her nose and hoped she wasn’t glaring as much as she would have liked to be. If only she had her wand.

She hadn’t fully decided what to say when she started speaking, but thankfully it didn’t matter in the end. No sooner had she opened her mouth than the door beside her and David opened.

“Oh, good, it’s just you. I was worried when I heard the car--oh.” The last word was quiet – almost absorbed by the sound of rustling trees all around them. Fox shut her eyes and took a breath, then opened them and looked to her right.

“Hello, doctor.”

Fox watched Jekyll release a stuttering breath. “Fauna,” he said.