Chapter Text
“Hey!” Stumbling through the clearing in the trees on weak legs, I hear the sharp call of a woman and let out an exasperated sigh. In my haste, I hadn’t noticed her crouched by the creek. Fuck everything, honestly, but especially fuck my rotten luck.
I gather what little (almost nonexistent at this point) strength I have left and abruptly turn around and take off in a sprint, running in the opposite direction of her and back towards the relative (but not really) safety of the dense forest I just came out of.
Unfortunately for me, I never was much of a runner.
She gets to me in under 30 seconds and tackles me to the ground like a fucking linebacker. Is that who does the tackling in football? I don't know. Anyways, the point is that she's freakishly strong for someone who can't be more than 5’5'' and 130 pounds.
“Stop running!” She yells again, which is unnecessary considering I am now laying on my stomach, in the dirt, with this stranger pushing me down as close to the ground as I can physically get! I try to wriggle out of her grip, but only manage to get nasty ass dead leaves in my mouth as she applies more force. Finally, I give up and accept my fate, hoping that if I stop moving, she'll stop being so aggressive because honestly? These leaves really are disgusting.
Once she realizes I have, in fact, stopped moving, I hear her huff out a deep breath as she loosens her grip, allowing me to lift my head and shoulders. She sits up straight but does not move to get off of me, so I peer over my shoulder at her. She raises her hands defensively and looks down at my face. “Sorry. I just want to see where the blood is coming from.”
Hi, I'm Emma Swan. You're probably wondering how I got to this point in my life. And by that I mean my being covered in blood, traipsing through the forest, just to then be run down by a tiny she-hulk. I can say with full certainty that I am wondering the exact same thing. My life was perfectly normal and boring, just how I like it… and then Friday came and everything changed. When the fire nation attacked.
No, I’m kidding. Sadly for me, and the dead guy, my life changed when I became witness to a murder.
It was a perfectly normal Friday, around 6:15 pm. Not that you need to know that. The time of day is utterly useless to you, but I am an avid book reader and they always mention the time, so I figure if I am to be a good storyteller, you have to deal with the useless facts. Anyways. The sun was shining through the trees and there was a pleasant breeze on my skin. You see, I had just gotten off of a long and draining week of work and was looking forward to being able to just relax. I’m a high school math teacher, so I’m sure you can imagine how painful of a job that must be. I really do not get paid enough, but I digress.
Beyond my modest two-bedroom home (another useless fact that you are being forced to accept) and accompanying yard, a thicket of trees expands at least a couple of miles out. The most beautiful pond lies within, surrounded on all sides by rocky cliffs that make for excellent cliff diving spots. Seriously, this pond is fucking gorgeous. You know those nature pictures you sometimes see on screensavers and wallpapers of laptops, that show the prettiest damn blue and green water you’ve ever seen in your life? Picture that.
When I reached my favorite location, a spot about 50 feet up, I shimmied out of my shorts and tank top and readied myself for a dive. That's when the trouble began.
I heard a car engine not too far off in the distance and whipped my head around to face that direction. I know what you're thinking, a car engine. Scary stuff, huh? That may not sound weird to you, but the thing is, there is a lack of roads in those woods. Just small trails barely big enough for an ATV to get through, so hearing a car is a very strange occurrence. Looking back, I’m not sure how they even managed to reach the area.
Now, I like to think of myself as a badass, but due to my spending far too many nights watching true crime documentaries, I knew better than to hang out in the open, half-dressed no less, in a strange situation. I had no intention of becoming a statistic, and that's assuming they'd even find my body. Out here, it'd be a while. As I finally saw the car crest the nearby hill, I did what any rational thinking adult would do. I hid.
Set directly below the clifftop, about twenty feet down, is a tiny ledge that circles the perimeter, exactly like the cliffs above. I hastily climbed my way down the face of the cliff, using outcroppings of rocks as hand and footholds, trying to channel my inner Lara Croft, until I finally felt the rough rock under my feet. I let go and began to haul ass, trying desperately to keep my balance. I bit my lip against the sounds trying to escape my mouth and cringed at every scatter of rocks that were set off during my hurry.
Around the other side, a familiar break in the rocks allowed me a moment to catch my breath as I wriggled my way into a space just large enough to hide me from above. When I was finally hidden from sight, I heard the crunching of leaves beneath feet, and then the sound of pebbles sent flying as the footsteps approached the opening.
I slowly peeked my head out from my hiding place inside the rocks, knowing I was practically invisible from above, but not wanting to risk discovery anyway. Up above, where I had been standing just minutes before, stood three men. Two of them looked like police officers, and I began to feel the creeping sensation of panic. They were wearing the standard uniforms of my town and had their registered guns secured on their hips, and their badges pinned to their crisp white shirts. But did you notice how I said ‘looked’? While they may have gone to great lengths to fit the role of Storybrooke police, these men were not cops. Between them stood the third man, shaking and with a pillowcase over his head.
Not being an idiot and knowing damn well that I did not want to get in the middle of that, I ducked back inside the rock. I heard a sound that, trust me, you do not want me to describe to you but that I knew was a knife tearing into flesh. It was followed shortly after by a small splash into the waters below me. I held my breath and strained to press myself further into the rock as one of the men spoke.
“It looks like we have company” a male voice taunted, his voice ringing with a singsong quality that sent a wave of chills down my spine. “They left their belongings here, clumsily.” The man burst out into a fit of giggles at his own rhyme, which honestly was not even that good.
“Aye, a woman, if I had to guess by the clothing choice,” the second responded. The way his voice lilted was obviously northern European, though I couldn’t place the exact country at the time. Of course, now I recognize it as Irish. “Do we look for her?”
I have never been a religious woman, but at that moment I prayed to every god that I have ever heard of. Thankfully, one of them listened.
“There’s no need, dearie,” the first man giggled again as a shuffling sound came from above again. “It seems Miss Swan grew weary.” His thing with rhyming is equally creepy and annoying, but my biggest concern at that moment was that he knew my name. Meaning, he found my ID.
“We'll come back. We're on a tight schedule,” announced the one with an accent, and I heard their footsteps move away again.
I cope with fear by turning to humor, so for lack of better terms, I took to referring to these two as “the leprechaun” and “the evil imp.” If you had been there, you would agree with my name choices wholeheartedly.
Eventually, I discerned the sounds of car doors slamming, and I waited until I heard the engine start back up before I felt safe enough to exhale. I peered over the edge and tried not to gag as I took in the murky red hue of the water. “That's blood. Deeeeefinitely blood…. Holy shit, Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck,” I thought to myself as I began my climb back up the cliffside.
So, now you know how the murder came to be, and how my life got flipped turned upside down. But how did I end up covered in blood? Well, I obviously could not go back home. The crazy fucking psychopaths knew my name and address, so naturally, I went to a bar instead. I know, I know. I should have gone straight to the police, but have you been paying attention? Those men looked like the police. Sure, they probably weren’t but what if? What if they were at the station? You can never be too careful in situations like these. Besides, I really needed a drink. I think I earned it. So, no, I would not turn to the local authorities. Instead, I did the normal thing people do after traumatic situations. I got wasted and called my ex.
Before you get mad at me, Graham is actually an FBI agent, and luckily, was currently not at work. Convenient, right? I explained the bare minimum to him, and by explain I mean I broke down and the only thing I said that was coherent was the words “murder”, “police”, and “water” but that’s fine because he was confused enough to come to get me from the bar. I begged him not to take me home, so instead, he took me to his house, where I immediately passed out on the couch.
“Emma, wake up,” a male voice said, rousing me out of sleep immediately. In my subconscious state, I automatically lash out, my heart pounding as the last moments of my nightmare receded. When my eyes finally opened, I registered Graham’s concerned face as he lightly held my arms.
“I need to know what happened last night,” he continued in a softer voice. “I was in the middle of a date,” He added, trying to lighten the mood, I guess. I sat up and took the coffee he was offering me and drained it in two sips, instantly regretting it because of the way it scalded my tongue and how hungover I was. I clutched the side of the couch to steady myself and began explaining what I saw, exactly as I've explained it to you.
When I finished, Graham sat silent for a moment as my story sunk in. He let out a long sigh, not one of frustration exactly, but I could tell this was not how he wanted to start his morning. Can’t really say I blame him. It’s not every day your ex-girlfriend (and current best friend) calls you to say they witnessed a murder.
“You're sure they were dressed as police?” he finally asked in a pensive voice, and I nodded in response. He slumped back against the couch and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and squeezed his eyes shut. “Two of the local police went missing a week ago. This has been happening all over the country. Within a week, a body is found with a slit throat, and it is always a key witness for an upcoming trial. It sounds like the same men, but you're the first witness, Emma. I'm going to call it into the station, and then I will call my boss. I'll be right back.” When he goes to stand up, I grab his arm, halting him.
“They have my ID, Graham,” I reminded him anxiously. He nods once and moves to his bedroom to make his calls.
Graham was able to set me up with the witness protection program, but he demanded he is the one to take me to my new location. They agreed, so long as one of their agents could come with us. Her name was Malorie, and she had long blonde hair like me, with the same shade of green eyes. It wasn’t hard for me to figure out that she was who Graham was on a date with. I gave him a knowing look as Malorie went to the back of the car to shut the trunk.
“What?” He asked innocently. “I have a type.” Before I could answer, Malorie climbed in behind me on the passenger’s side, and we set off to my new life. I was to be transferred to a remote location in the mountains where I would live in a small town and work as a manager of a store, but that was not in the cards for me.
On a desolate mountain road surrounded by endless copses of trees, we spotted a red truck in perfect condition parked on the side. Before I could ask why someone would be stopped here, where there were no lookout points that frequently dotted the highways, the first shot rang out. My heart pounded as Graham swerved, trying to dodge as an endless stream of bullets bombarded the car. But when it seemed as though my luck could not possibly get worse, it did. We happened to be in a section with no guardrails.
Everything happened so fast as the car raced down the mountain. It was knocking down small trees and trampling everything in sight, all while bullets and shattering glass kept raining down on us. A few heart-lurching moments later, everything stopped. Presumably, we were now out of range for the guns to reach us, and the car had run straight into a fallen tree.
I looked over at Graham, who was now covered in blood and slumped over with his eyes closed. My hands were trembling when I reached out to try to shake him awake. Hot tears slipped down my face as I gently tilted his head back to reveal the multiple gunshot wounds peppering his neck and chest. He hadn't been wearing his bulletproof vest that way the townsfolk wouldn't realize something was wrong. My breath caught in my lungs when I felt for a pulse, hoping beyond hope, though he was already growing cold in the chilly September air. I choked back a sob as I hugged him one final time, willing myself to say goodbye and that I was sorry I dragged him into this. I turned to look at Mal, who was far worse to look at, a large piece of glass protruding from the ragged edges of her neck, and equally as dead, her eyes open and devoid of life.
They found me. They fucking found me! I don't know how, but they did and in trying to get to me, they killed my closest friend. For that, they would pay, but I knew I needed to get moving before the shock set in and before they caught up. Reaching across the console, I grabbed Graham's gun and the bookbag I had filled with the necessities and climbed out the window, careful to avoid the remaining shards of glass and not daring to open the door for fear that the men would hear it. As soon as my feet touched down into the grass, I ran like hell.
I darted blindly through the thick forest for what felt like hours until I came upon a creek, and I chose to follow it. Creeks usually lead to rivers, and where there's a river, there's civilization. Eventually, the creek led me out of the woods, and that's when I saw her. The small, terrifyingly strong lady. I wasn't in a very social or trusting mood by that point, because obviously someone had betrayed my location to those fuckers, so I tried to run from her too and, well, you know how that went. So now, here we are, all caught up.
“I just want to see where the blood is coming from.”