A Curse Upon Thee 28

Henry Mills was dying.

Finn didn’t need the machines or Whale to tell him that much.

The Cursed Energy guttering in the kid’s chest made that more obvious than what he could get from simple sight. He didn’t need his blue eyes open and searching to feel the residuals — like a candle in a windstorm — as something dark and cloying wrapped itself into and through the boy’s body. Apples.

It was that smell, the same unforgettable sort of apple-preserve sweetness he’d felt coming off Graham’s corpse, except this time it was active and pulsing every time the kid struggled for breath.

Fluorescent lights were harsh, their light reflected against glass walls as the kid lay motionless in the hospital bed. His skin pale as paper, and brown hair stark against white pillows, he looked damn near Victorian the longer Finn watched. That small chest rose and fell in shallow breaths that barely moved the blankets tucked around him, each one just the tiniest bit weaker than the last.

Emma stood on one side of the bed, both hands gripping the metal rail hard enough to bruise her own hands. Her face was nearly as pale as Henry’s as she looked at him like she could will him awake through sheer force.

Regina stood on the other side, her own hands trembling where they rested on the rail, the woman swallowing like she was trying not to be sick.

Finn hung off Ruby, barely any of his strength still with him, as his girl kept one arm wrapped tight around his waist to take most of his weight on her shoulders. Two weeks out from surgery and fresh of a dose of percocet and he was in no position to be on his feet but that wasn’t going to stop him; not even with every breath a negotiation against still-cracked ribs. 

Standing took effort. Staying conscious took more.

Fucking Percocet, man. His vision kept trying to grey out at the edges, exhaustion and pain medication making the world tilt sideways.

“Good evening, everyone.” Dr. Whale swept in, white coat pristine and clipboard in hand, wearing an expression so neutral  that it promised nothing good. “Who here can tell me what happened?”

“H-Henry, he…” Emma’s voice came out raw, scraped down to nothing as she looked up at the pale blond doctor. “He collapsed. At my apartment. I wish I could tell you any more, but I don’t even know why or how he… He just… fell.”

“Anything,” Whale pressed just the slightest bit. “Anything at all you can remember would help, Emma.”

“I know, I know. It’s just that one second he was fine, talking, eating, and then he just…” Her breath hitched. “He won’t wake up. I can’t… I can’t wake him up and all I saw in front of him was….” The blond woman pulled something from her jacket pocket with shaking hands; a partially eaten pastry, golden brown and flaky goodness wrapped in wax paper. “He ate this. I think—I think it was poisoned.”

Whale took it, the doctor turning it over in his hands and held it up to the light. “There’s no discoloration, no unusual odor, no visible contaminants.” The man was matter-of-fact, clear confusion on his face. “It looks like a normal apple turnover.”

Apple… Finn turned his head to the still-quiet Regina.

“Then test it!” Emma’s voice climbed as high as Finn had ever heard it. “Run a tox screen or something. Check for… for cyanide, arsenic, or whatever the hell someone would use t-

“I will.” Whale set the pastry aside on the counter as he moved to Henry’s bedside. Then he pulled back the boy’s eyelid, shining a penlight to check pupil response. Two fingers went to Henry’s wrist, the man counting heartbeats before Whale lfted the blanket.

Seconds passed as he examined hands, feet, and everything else, clearly looking for something. By the time he was done, Whale’s expression hadn’t changed, but something in his posture shifted either way.

“This doesn’t make sense.”

Emma’s head snapped up. “What doesn’t?”

“Just off a once-over, there’s nothing overtly wrong with him.” Whale straightened, the doctor frowning at the monitors like they’d personally offended him. “I’ll do a full tox screen but as far as I can tell, his vitals are weak but stable. Nothing that would register as an allergic reaction, no neurological indicators of stroke or poisoning or seizure activity. He’s just…”

The man gestured at his patient. “Fading. Like he’s been struck by…” Whale’s jaw worked in silence, staring down at Henry.

“By what?” Emma leaned forward. “Say something, Whale!”

“By magic or something.”

Magic. As if he needed any more confirmation, the smell of apple strong in the air and not from the turnover.

“You did this.”

The words left his mouth before Finn could think twice, exhaustion and pain bleeding into an anger sharp enough to cut as his eyes landed on the only witch in the room. He tried to step forward, only for his legs to immediately give out. Ruby caught him before he hit the floor, arm tightening around his waist to keep him upright.

“Finn-” 

He shook his head, eyes still locked on Regina across the bed. “I can feel your cursed energy inside him. Same signature as Graham. Same goddamn…” He stopped to take in a breath, ribs screaming as even that much hurt. “You fucking poisoned your own kid.”

Regina’s face went pale, all the blood draining out until her makeup stood out like stage paint. “I di”

“B-bullshit.” Finn’s voice shook, pain and rage making his vision blur. “I felt it when Graham died. Your energy wrapped around his heart, squeezing. And now Henry’s almost exactly the same. So don’t you fucking da-“

“I didn’t mean for him to eat it!” Regina’s voice broke on the last word, high and desperate, as her composure shattered like glass.

The room went silent as Emma’s head turned slowly, face twisted into a mask of rage. “What?”

“The turnover.” Regina’s hands were even worse now, trembling so hard she had to grip the bed rail to keep them still. Carefully applied mascara was already starting to run, black streaks trailing from the corners of her eyes. “It was meant for you. To make you…to make you stop. But Henry—he must have—”

Her voice dissolved into something that might have been a sob.

Emma moved.

The sheriff crossed the space between them in two quick strides and grabbed Regina by her lapels, slamming her back against the glass wall separating the room from the outside.

“You poisoned my son?!”

“Emma—” Ruby started.

For the second time, Ruby went ignored as Emma’s fingers twisted themselves in Regina’s expensive jacket, the sheriff of Storybrooke dragging the mayor out of the room, through the doorway, and into the hallway; Regina stumbling in her heels as she was hauled along with strength no one knew Emma had.

Finn followed, Ruby going along because she was the only thing keeping him from collapsing face-first into the linoleum.

“The hell is wrong with you, you sick bitch?” Emma shouted without care for the audience forming around her, two civil servants having it out in the middle of the hospital already drawing a crowd. “My son ate that thing!” Regina was pressed up against the wall, Emma’s face inches from hers as she screamed out her piece. “He’s dying because of you!”

“I know!” Regina’s face was redder than it was pale now, tears streaming down her cheeks in mascara-black rivers. “I know! I didn’t—I never wanted—”

“What did you do to him?!”

“It’s… It’s a sleeping curse.” Regina’s voice was nothing like the mayor who ruled Storybrooke with a perfect manicure. “Old magic. Fairy tale magic. In this world it’s… it’s unpredictable, the rules are different, I thought… Look, I didn’t think he w-“

Emma released her like she’d been burned, stepping back with her hands raised. “Magic.”

The word came out flat, but not disbelieving, her jaw twitching as she swallowed the word down before speaking again. “So, you really are the evil witch Henry and Finn have been telling me about?”

“Yes.”

Finn bit back a quiet ‘told you’, well aware now was not the time to gloat. 

“Fine.” As much anger as there was in her voice, it also came with a familiar exhaustion as the sheriff finally sighed before speaking again. “How the hell do we fix it?”

“I don’t know.”

“THEN FIND OUT!” Emma pushed in closer, shaking Regina hard enough to make the mayor’s head snap back. “You did this! You fix it!”

“I can’t!” Regina’s voice cracked, the words half a sob that Finn wasn’t sure was entirely just sadness. At least, not just sadness for Henry. “I don’t even have my magic anymore! The curse sealed it when I cast it! I made that turnover with the last scraps I had left and I can’t—I can’t undo it! I don’t have the power!”

Fuck. Finn leaned heavier on Ruby, the world tilting sideways again as his chest refused to let him take in anything past a shallow breath. Debts and more debts… He knew exactly what they needed to do. “Emma, we need help.”

Emma turned to him, eyes wild. “From who?”

Regina wiped at her face with shaking hands, smearing mascara across her cheeks as her voice came out more defeated than Finn had ever heard it. “The only other person in town who knows about magic.”

Understanding hit Emma’s face like a physical blow. “Mr. Gold.”

“Better known,” Regina said quietly, tears easing up just a bit, “as Rumpelstiltskin.”

Wha- Blue eyes blinked as the name hit his ears and crashed into his brain, the collision bringing every single one of his thoughts to a halt. Noooo…

“You’re fucking joking.”

Dark eyes blinked at him in clear confusion, hot tears actively cutting tracks through Regina’s immaculate makeup. “What?”

“I thought he was the actual devil.” Finn let out a laugh that was significantly more unhinged wheeze than anything he intended on. No fucking way. This had to be a joke, because…. Nooooo. “Like, the Devil Devil. Big D.”

Regina’s tears almost dried up on the spot as she kept blinking his way, mouth still open in shock. “I don’t… I don’t understand what you mean.”

Finn shook his head, instantly regretting the motion as a spike of fire shot down his neck. “You know, like, Actually Satan? The Prince of Darkness. Lord of the Flies. Beelzebub with a weird landlord fetish and a limp.” He cackled out loud again, sounding less stable by the second. Oh, the pain meds are definitely kicking in. “And you’re standing there telling me he’s just… just what, a fairy tale imp? Some guy who spins gold from straw?”

Emma looked from Regina to Finn, her grip on the Mayor’s expensive lapel loosening just a fraction as she sighed. “This is news to me, too, kid.”

The Mayor looked at Finn like he was the one out of his mind. “Why on earth would you think he was the literal devil?”

“Because he acts exactly like the devil!” Finn spat back at her. “Everything’s just deals and debts and shit like that on top of all the cryptic bullshit he spouts every time you ask a straight question.” He shook his head again, going back to the weeks he worked under Gold. “Hell, the way he talks to you like he knows exactly how you’re going to die and thinks the punchline is hilarious, I mean…” Finn had to stop, the deputy sucking in a ragged breath as his fractured ribs screamed in protest.

His heavy head dropped sideways, thunking softly against Ruby’s shoulder. “Oh God, that’s so much lamer. I’ve been terrified of a guy named Rumpelstiltskin.”

Ruby’s arm tightened securely around his waist, physically steadying his swaying balance like a solid anchor. “Focus, Red. We don’t have time for a crisis.”

“Right. Right, yeah. Focus.” He forced his heavy head back up, bright blue eyes meeting Emma’s greens. “You two go… just go negotiate with Rumpy.” The groan inside his head at that nickname didn’t leave his lips but it still hurt him to say either way. “Go make whatever deal you have to make. We’ll stay right here to watch Henry.”

Emma hesitated, attention flitting between Finn’s sweating face and the glass enclosure of a hospital room where her son lay dying. “If something happens—”

“We’ll call you right away.” Ruby answered the worried mother. “Go. Now.”

Emma finally let go of Regina’s collar and the two women booked it without wasting another moment, ootsteps echoing loudly down the sterile hospital hallway in a totally mismatched rhythm.

Ruby adjusted her grip on Finn as he worked with her to walk straight, helping him slowly on their path back toward the hospital room. It took less than a minute but it was still too much time for Finn’s ego and comfort before Ruby slowly lowered him into the hospital chair set up right beside Henry’s bed. Yeah, maybe I should have given it two more weeks.

He shook his head, pushing that aside as something to worry about for later.

Henry was actively dying.

And, more than anything, Finn owed the little guy.

Henry had believed wholeheartedly in magic when absolutely everyone else in town thought the kid was just lonely and acting out. Even Finn hadn’t believed the kid — to be fair, he still didn’t really — but at the very least, Regina was a witch and Mr. Gold was Rumplestiltskin so the kid couldn’t have been too far off base. He called me a fairy, though.

A warm hand settled gently on his uninjured shoulder, pulling him out of his own head. “You should be in a bed too, Red.”

“He’s already in one.” Finn nodded his chin toward Henry, the kid’s face still sickly pale. “Doesn’t really seem to be working out too well for either of us at the moment.”

“Mmmmhmmm.” Ruby dragged another plastic chair over, sitting down directly beside Finn. She didn’t let go of his hand, thumb tracing small slow circles against the rough skin of his palm. They sat like that for a while, in the heavy silence, with just the rhythm of the machines and the terrifyingly quiet sound of Henry Mill’s shallow breathing interrupting it.

“Tell me about Kyoto.”

Finn blinked as Ruby broke the silence, his drug-hazy brain struggling to shift gears. “What?”

“I let it sit because you know…” She pulled a face, head tilting his way. “You were still conked out on morphine all last week, but…”

“…but what?

“You kept saying things.” Her voice remained gentle, incredibly cautious, like she was slowly approaching something wild and easily spooked. “In your sleep. For two whole weeks while you were out. Japanese stuff. Some weird phrases. And I think names, too.”

Finn swallowed hard, his throat dry. “…what kinda names?”

“Like… who’s Todo-senpai?”

The exact second the syllables left her mouth, Finn squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a hiss of a breath through teeth grit just as tight. The memory of a hammer fist impacting his chest almost made his current situation hurt worse as empathy for a half-remembered past self came rushing right back to the front of his brain, along with memories of constant never-ending shouting.

“Oh god, the absolute ogre…”

Ruby’s soft hand squeezed his gently, drawing his attention back to the present. “You do remember, Finn. You had a whole entire life over there, and I—” She swallowed, dark green eyes searching his pale face. “I want to know. Who you actually were. Who you are.”

Finn McHale took in another slow pained breath, and he finally told her.

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

HIS NAME IS RUMP??? – 300 GP

Uncover the true nature of your enemy.

ROLL: Satyr Song (200) [Wizard 101] {Modus}:

Your voice takes on the ethereal qualities of the fair folk, becoming supernaturally flexible and precise. You can adjust it however you wish, and when singing, you will never sound anything less than perfect. While this does not grant the lethal allure of a Siren, it does give you an extraordinary voice. In addition, any spell you cast can have its power doubled if you are able to incorporate singing into the casting.

Grimoire Points: 700