Username: 
Password:    
Remember Me

Search by :  Username E-mail Region Interest AOL IM ICQ Number Yahoo! ID MSN Username Jabber

Emma Swan finally found her fairytale (lostfairytale) wrote in wariscoming, @ 2013-11-22 15:22:00

Who: Emma Swan and Jim Moriarty
What: Pesticide. Emma has declared it pesticide
When: Two days ago, thanks IJ!
Where: Loki's magically pimped out warehouse
Warnings: Oh, you name it. Violence, language, adult references, torture, dark magic... FUN!



Well this wasn’t what he’d planned for at all. Emma and a knife, one he recognised as entirely able to finish him off completely but then he supposed too that it was fitting. His fairytale, here to finish him off and save her new man. The Huntsman of course. Because that hilarious fact he knew her mother before she was even born still amused him. He probably should have been more serious really. Not laughing about something like that when he was about to die. But he wasn’t scared of that. He’d never been scared of death before why would he start now? His only regret was not getting to see the end. Or watch Emma suffer as everything she ever loved abandoned her all over again.

“Go on then? I’m not exactly going anywhere. You pretty much got me. Useful having a pet god I’d imagine. Kill me, end it, and think you’ve won. Think you’ve gained something, be happy for a while, you, him, Henry and Aurora. It won’t last. I expect you know that, Lucifer, the seal. They’re all gonna leave you again. One by one by one because that’s what your story is. Misery, abandonment. The little girl and the name with so much power, right? The saviour. You’re only that because they left you. And one day Queenie will click her fingers and make him leave you too. That’s the thing about magic in your world....Oh but...oh, do you think you can. Be like her, be like Gold, you really can just burn the heart out of someone can’t you. Hold it in your hand, crush it.”

She could try that on him. He wasn’t entirely sure what would happen if she did but it would be entertaining to say the least.

“Though you really did already break my heart. Betrayed me when all I’d asked for was loyalty. Such a shame. I could have given you the world, fairytale, and you know it. Its a shame you gave in, to please them, your friends. Or because you looked at Aurora and you realised, she was always gonna be Daddy’s little girl. And oh you can tell me its Graham, you can even believe it yourself, but nature vs nurture, nature wins out. Every time, and that girl is mine. Tell me, does she look like me, she does doesn’t she. Oh how you must hate that.”

“Aislinn!” Emma finally snapped. She’d been standing there, listening to his ranting for however long it had taken. He was trying to buy time. She’d talked to Loki before she’d entered the room. She knew their time was limited before something happened to Graham or John or both. But she really did want to hear what he had to say for himself.

But then he pushed too far. Touched on her greatest fear. Her baby, her perfect little girl, could still grow up to be just as crazy as her father. No matter who loved her. And knowing now that it was entirely possible for Aislinn to have magic since it seemed Henry did, too? She was terrified of what the future would bring.

She wouldn’t give up, though. Not on loving her daughter or raising her to be better than the pathetic demon standing in front of her. “My daughter’s name is Aislinn,” she continued, more calmly. She had to. This couldn’t be done with a rash temper. She’d make a mistake, he’d get loose, and then he’d likely kill her. Though, really, who could blame him? “And you don’t even have a heart to break. Don’t lie to me. Don’t tell me how much you loved me. I was just another pawn in your game, in the end. You’re pissed off because people actually care about me? Oh, maybe they will leave. But like you said, it isn’t like I’ve never been alone before. I can handle being alone again. At least I have someone, which is more than I could ever say for you. My ‘pet god’ got around your pet fallen angel and I bet it just makes him furious.”

Though he’d hit his mark and it was clear from the cold that ran through her. If the Seal took Henry or Graham or if something happened to her and she lost Aislinn… Her mother had already been taken from her. Twice. Could she live with losing her kids, too?

Moriarty smiled, just lazily, just enough to show that he knew he’d gotten to her and he was proud of it. He always could get to her, his beautiful fairytale. So lost now to boring and plain when he could have made her something special. On the side of the angels like everyone else in this stupid town. And sooo convinced that having Loki on her side made her someone special. “Oh he did, he did get around Lucifer. Just the once mind. Just enough that it’ll have made him cross. I suggest when you’re done dramatically killing me and declaring you’ve won and you’re free of me or whatever happy ending you imagine will come of this, I suggest you get ready. Because the world is going to burn, even without me there to see it. He’s going to wipe you all out and in the end you’ll be begging for it. God, Emma the plans...the things in store for all of you. Its sexy, it really is just sexy and I’m a little sad I won’t get to see it.”

He said nothing else for a minute wondering if she’d just kill him and move on. But then of course he was never quite done with her. Not really. He’d put far too much effort into her.

“Of course...Loki. Interesting chap really, all around. Playing at having friends, caring. But the jealousy seeps in doesn’t it. You have to have seen what he becomes, or do you think you and your wolf fancier, and Henry and Aurora can stop that happening too. Your little house of misfits. He is what he is and at some point helping is not gonna be enough. I understand him you know, Loki, burdened with glorious purpose...knowing the very simple truth that humanity is made to be ruled...that people want to be ruled, even you fairytale. Oh you can lie there with your hero, imagine when he touches you, when he kisses you, that its enough for you but it won’t be. Twenty, thirty years you’ll sit there, kids gone, friends with families of their own and you’ll wonder how you ever thought it could be enough when you could have had the world bowing to you. Well, bowing to me, but you’d probably have done alright out of it.”

He shrugged, “Do you think you’ll give in to the sexy heart crushing magic then? I would. If I hadn’t topped myself already. You’ll be ordinary Emma. Boring. My poor lost little fairytale.”

She honestly had no idea why she was still listening to him blather on. He was such a pain. Why had she tolerated him for so long? The knife was in her hand, gripped between her fingers. It would be simple. So simple. She’d seen how easy it was to inflict pain with it. The video he...well, the other him...had made showed the many, many uses of this knife. She’d found it on his laptop when cleaning out his things. There’d been a copy in the room they’d used for Aurora. And that? That was all she needed to prove why this had to be done. Her daughter couldn’t grow up with him alive. It’s why she’d done it in the first place.

Oh, people could think she was so selfless, ending his life to save so many others. But in the end, she’d done what she had for her daughter. And though it had hurt, she didn’t regret it. She regretted it even less now, looking into cold, dark eyes.

“That’s your problem, Jim,” she said simply, her voice low and smooth. “You’re too cocky. You think you’re unstoppable, but here you are. Proof you’re not. Again.” Her arms folded in front of her, the knife safely tucked beneath her palm. In his clear view. “You should know better. I trust Loki with my life. And my daughter’s.” She had made him Aislinn’s godfather, after all. Of course she saw the darkness in him. What it was he could be. But she saw it in plenty of people all around her. Call it the Charming in her, the bit of her mother that always came out, no matter how dark her life had gotten. But she had faith in him.

Maybe she was boring. But maybe, in the end, boring would be better. What good had exciting done? Isolated her, almost cost her everything? It wasn’t worth it. It would never be worth it. She had a family now, people who loved her and fought for her. She would never give that up again.

“How about you just make this easier and tell me where they are? It’ll go faster that way.”

Oh she didn’t have a clue. Not really, not properly. She thought she understood how this would end. A quick stab in the chest and he was done. She’d obviously forgotten who she was dealing with. “You actually think I want this to go faster? Oh no no no, I know I don’t get out of this. I know this is the end. So if lover boy and...well Sherlock’s lover boy, die because you don’t find them in time then what do I care? I’m not going to tell you willingly and there’s nothing you can do to me that...”

Jim paused then, looking from Emma to the knife and laughed, a chilling cold laugh so different than what she was used to from him. Or had been used to at least. “You could make me tell you. I mean, being who you are, product of true love and all. You could reach to that part of you, that magic. Rip out my heart Emma. Because it is the only way you’ll find your boyfriend. How much black do you think it has? Like, you’ll probably still have to stab me, or it maybe to kill me, but think of it. I’d sing like a bird wouldn’t I? Every dirty little secret I ever kept from you and it’d be literally in the palm of your hand.”

And there’d be a little more black on her own heart when she walked out of here today. And he’d have another little victory over her. She wanted to. She had to want to, it would be so funny!

“Go on. Cause its the only way you get your answers.”

That laugh was, without question, enough to send a chill down her back. Because he was right, she wasn’t used to that sound. Not directed at her, anyway. His colleagues, yes. His enemies, of course. But towards her? Well. She supposed she fit into one of those categories now, didn’t she?

Her eyes, though, grew dark and stormy, the light blue turning nearly gray with anger. “You certainly are obsessed with my magic, aren’t you?” She gave her own little laugh now, though less chilling and more sarcastic. “Imagine if you’d known then what we all know now? What might you have done? How would you have used me?”

She could do it. She wasn’t as skilled as Regina or as powerful as Loki or as clever as Gold. But she was getting there. She’d trained long and hard for moments like this. Moments where it came down to life or death. If anything happened to Graham, it would be all on her. And if John Watson died again because of her, he’d have every right to take it out on her. She could save them.

“I wonder what would happen…” she mused, her voice low and controlled. Her eyes drifted from the cold expression of his face and down towards his chest, where her target would be. It was something she’d never done, something she’d never even considered. But she’d learned the same way Regina had. From Rumplestiltskin. Hers was simply via television, was all. Besides, if she hurt him, big deal. She hardly cared anymore. In fact, she wanted to inflict pain. “Think after you told me, I could crush you that way? Or would you just drift off into the next unsuspecting host? How did you keep your body, anyway? Most don’t, do they?”

He was obsessed with her magic. No word of a lie. It fascinated him and more than anything he wished he’d known. Oh he’d have been unstoppable then. He’d have used it for gain, for hers as well as his. And Aurora’s, he’d have trained her from so young. Maybe her love of fire would have grown. Maybe she’d have been able to rip out the hearts of his enemies too. maybe all of it would have been so much easier. But once again Emma was too little too late. “I’d have found uses for it, believe me. My fairytale.”

And she wanted to do it. Oh how she wanted to, she wanted to rip out his heart and make him tell her about all the terrible things he’d done to the man she loved, and if Watson happened to be there maybe she’d rescue him too. He didn’t know if she was actually curious about the body and what would happen or just stalling for time, either way though, it was a fun little story. “Simple enough, asked could I keep it, figured it would be better to get to you and Watson if I looked like me. If I was who you remembered, and well, it worked didn’t it. I did a bit of body hopping though, that’s how I got your Huntsman, did you like it by the way? The swimming pool murder, did you get it? I worried I was being a bit samey but you’re not Sherlock, figured anything else might be a bit clever for you.”

“But are you gonna stand there all day or are we gonna see just how black my black heart is. Do you think it darkens after every murder? Or lightens again when there’s just no room left for anything else? Or, you know, you could just let them die. I’d be cool with it, I’d go off to death happy that I took Watson with me and left you to pick up the pieces of your life again. For the month or so it would take you to find another moron to take on you and my Aurora.”

The problem with Emma was her lack of control. Her temper, the rage that had built up living nearly thirty years so very alone and unloved. In some ways, she really was no different from Regina. The expression on her face turned to a snarl as she stepped forward, pressing the tip of the blade to his throat, never quite crossing the line of the trap. Never quite giving him enough leverage to escape. Even she was more controlled than that.

“I wanted the Colt, you know. Would’ve been faster. But maybe I don’t want fast. Maybe I want this to last.” If he wouldn’t tell them where the men he’d captured were, there was still hope. She had to believe that. But she could try and get him to first. “You think it was that simple?” she snapped bitterly. “You think it was that easy to move on from you?” Her eyes narrowed, her breathing was ragged, but she didn’t slow down. “You can’t tear someone’s life apart and expect that they just danced along to someone else. I gave up so much for you…” The knife slipped towards his skin, indenting it slightly but never quite piercing. It would be too simple. He had, as the rumors had said, ‘made the rack his bitch’. Torture would get her nowhere.

But he couldn’t do a damn thing if she held the blackest of hearts in her hand. Regina wouldn’t have hesitated. Why was she? At least her purpose had meaning. She needed to save a life, not avenge one. It wasn’t as if Jim hadn’t hurt her plenty.

“Colt wouldn’t have been enough for you. You needed this.” he told her as the knife rested at his chest. If this was his last hurrah then he was going to make it hurt. “You needed it up close and you needed your answers. I’ll give you one for free. How’s that? I’ll tell you a story about Princess Emma, the lost little fairytale who gave her heart too easily. There were two other princesses in the story. Princess Darcy and Princess Belle. Now juuust like Princess Emma, these other Princesses fell in love. Proper love. But the men they loved were bad bad men, turning people to ice and ripping out hearts, taking over kingdoms and making deals. But they loved these men, these bad bad men, and suddenly, the bad bad men weren’t so bad anymore. Oh no, they were helping and hugging kiddies and kittens and all the land rejoiced. But not Princess Emma no no no. Princess Emma wasn’t enough for her love. Princess Emma couldn’t help him solve the Final Problem like she’d promised. Princess Emma was a traitor. And traitors always suffer eventually. Princess Emma got her man killed and replaced him with a boring forest man that she killed with a kiss once. And she had to watch Princess Darcy and Princess Belle and know that she juuust wasn’t good enough. And it wasn’t only them, oh no, all over the kingdom there were vampires and wizards and crazy warlords stopping their evil rampages. Why oh why wasn’t Princess Emma good enough. Was it maybe just as simple as...she wasn’t a Princess at all, she was only playing at it? She wasn’t even strong enough when it counted to save her new love? Locked in a faaar away tower, his only hope of rescue fading.”
Jim smirked, shaking his head sadly.

“You can’t do it fairytale. Don’t pretend you can. Just kill me and get it over with, go back to being boring. Go back to pretending you have hope that you’ll win and you’ll get to have a life when all this is done. And tell Henry you have to find him yet another daddy”

Her face contorted in a range of emotions, ones he’d know well. She was usually so, so good at masking them, but what was the point? This was it, wasn’t it? Either she’d kill him or he’d somehow get loose and kill her. It was all going to come down to this moment and what did it matter if he saw how much he hurt her? He was also seeing how furious she was.

“Fairytales are for children,” she countered, bitterly. “And anyone who believes in them is a fool. And that includes you.” She didn’t know how to do what needed to be done now. She should have talked to Ruby first, or Crowley. Found some minor, lower level demon to practice this on. What made her think she was some sort of hero? She wasn’t. The savior… Of what? Storybrooke? Maybe they were better not knowing. Maybe they were better before she’d come along. Graham had been nothing short of a prisoner, but at least he’d been alive.

Maybe he should just end it. Maybe she should, oops, accidentally smear the line of the trap. Common mistake. The others, they’d keep the kids safe. It would be so much easier, let someone stronger, more brave take him out. And she could end this constant, internal battle with herself.

But Henry’s sweet little face crossed her mind. The hope he’d had the first time she’d open the door and seen him. His determination that she could help him. And she would. She had to. This wasn’t the woman who’d been left crumpled on the floor of the Moriarty mansion. No, she was stronger than that now.

She was shaking with fear and with anger, but her hand reached out and, against everything she’d ever told herself, she felt her fingers slide through his skin. It was all she could do to hide the expression of horror that wanted to cross her features. It shouldn’t have been possible. It shouldn’t be this simple for someone to control another human being. But her fingers grasped around the heart that lay in his chest.

She did everything she could to justify her actions. He’d never tell her. Not for all the bribery and conniving and torture in the world. He enjoyed hurting people and this was his way to her. It had to be done. He’d tell her anything she wanted him to with his heart in her hand. She pulled, surprised at the slight resistance she was met with. But then, that should have been expected. It didn’t seem something someone’s body would want to happen. But there it was, despite everything. Resting there between them.

And she was entirely disgusted with what she’d just done.

And Jim Moriarty was surprisingly chipper for a man who had just had his heart ripped out and shown to him. Oh he’d do what she said, he’d tell her where her man was and Watson too. She just had to ask. But whatever she asked, whatever she did.

“I win.”

Simple statement, ironic from the guy about to die but it was true and Emma Swan knew it. He had won. Outright, plain and simple. His heart, in her hand, blacker than he had even suspected it would be. He’d done it. She’d done it. The blackest of magic. “They’re in a basement. 332 Harper Drive. Of course once you’d killed me the magic protecting them would have worn off and any old locater would have done it. So you didn’t actually have to rip my heart out with Dark Magic. But this was much more fun wasn’t it Fairytale. This was perfect.”

He leaned in closer to her, curiously watching his own heart pulse and flow in her hand. “Funny how it marks everything. You think every sin is on there? Think yours is blackening?. Bet it’s got a few spots anyway. What does treachery get you?”

“Something for you to ponder but if that’ll be all, can we get on with the dying now. Or did you want to ask me something to make what you did even slightly justifiable. “

She couldn’t breathe. His words were barely even audible to her, there was so much else going on in her head. She’d done the unthinkable. And just as she was about to change her mind, shove the damned thing back where it was supposed to be, he told her. She didn’t even have to ask. He told her anyway and damn him for it. The bastard would die thinking he’d won. Knowing that maybe he actually had.

Everything she’d fought against, the things she’d done. What would be on her heart? How black would it already be, and how black would it be now, now that she’d gone and done this? She was shaking from head to toe, her skin cold even to her own touch. Henry… Oh, god, the very thought of her son made her want to throw up.

But on top of all of that, she was angry. At herself, at him. He’d known she’d want this. She’d need to try and get to them. Dammit, she should have guessed the magic would wear off. “I’d tell you to go to hell,” she spat bitterly, shoving his damned heart back where it was meant to be. “But you know. Been there and done that.” She should have just crushed the damn thing. She was already marked, she’d already done the unthinkable, what was taking the next step, really?

No. She couldn’t and she wouldn’t. This wasn’t going to be the end of her, it wasn’t going to be her defining moment. She’d come back from this somehow. Because dammit, she had the support system to do so. All she had to do was keep her family together and it would be fine.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she hissed, annoyed, angry, and hurt. “You won’t have to deal with the aftermath, the cleanup. You can die, dissolved into billions of pieces, still thinking you’re Lucifer’s favorite.” She forced the tiniest of smiles on to her face, staring him down. “But you still couldn’t get him Sam, could you? You couldn’t get Emily to him. And you think I’m the disappointment here?” There was a snickering little laugh and she slashed upwards, making the first mark of the knife, cutting into one of his precious, finely tailored suits. “You’re right, you know. We could have been something great. Shame about that. Maybe I wasn’t enough for you.” Another slash, this time tearing his shirt open. Him and his damned Westwood. “Or maybe...maybe I was just too much.”

“No I couldn’t get to them. Of course its a disappointment. I’d planned to. It was next.”

It was fate really, all of it. Why he’d not been horrified when Loki had managed to summon him. Shocked, of course. But not bothered. Not really. It was actually good that it ended this way. With her. She’d put the heart back, but the damage was still done, she’d committed the act. For that, he supposed she could have a bit of honesty from him.

“Funny thing. I wanted to get myself analyzed. That nice psychiatrist woman. I was gonna rip her heart out for her trouble but she got it right, listed all these disorders and I know...I know what I am. Of course I do, you don’t do the things I do for fun and be normal . Proper full on psychopath. Not like Sherlock pretending to be a High Functioning Sociopath. It was just what he told himself. I am properly crazy and I was alright with that because it meant I wasn’t like the rest of them. Wasn’t dull and pointless and booooring. But then there was you and that little part of everyone that knows how to love someone else. It started to work. You made me love you Emma Swan and I couldn’t have that. I couldn’t be weak like they were because I still hadn’t gotten him. When I did, when it was done. Then I’d have wanted more because there was more to want. New challenges, it wasn’t boring anymore. I’d have brought you with me, much as it confused me, much as you confused me. I’d have let myself properly love you. God, will you JUST END IT!” he screamed, face contorted in fury , black eyes meeting hers. “My failsafe...it gave me this, it gave me a chance to see you commit the blackest of magic and that’s what I’ll think before oblivion. And if you’d only waited . If you’d only let Watson die too then maybe.”

She cut into the suits and he actually looked properly offended. Westwood. It was Westwood and you didn’t just slice into something that skilled. He really should have gotten Crowley’s tailor before the hellhound had made him a snack.

“What’s left? Between us, this story.”

He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t as sure as he had been even a few minutes ago because there was so much he’d never admitted to her. It had been love of a sort. Twisted of course. Broken.

“End the Fairytale”

This wasn’t what she’d expected. He wasn’t pleading for his life. That probably wouldn’t have affected her. She’d have been annoyed more than anything. Did he listen when she’d pleaded for Sherlock Holmes’ life? No, of course not. He was so singularly driven. Even now he was admitting she couldn’t have ever been enough for him while Sherlock was alive. No, begging to live she could have handled and the knife would have slid into his chest with ease.

No, him admitting the things he’d felt… That was more difficult. She should have had one of the others do this. All along, from the beginning, made someone else do it and simply hidden with her children the way it should have been. But she’d wanted so badly to make up for the things she’d done, the decisions she’d made. This had to happen. His yelling didn’t scare her. It never had. The blackened eyes didn’t because that was simply the telltale sign of a demon.

But him revealing any part of himself...that scared her. He was lying. He was manipulating her, just like he’d always done. She could handle this. “You’re lying,” she said simply. “If you truly loved me, if you ever truly loved me, you’d have fought for me. Not for him. I was never going to be enough to save you.”

Yes. Save him. Because that’s how she saw it. If she hadn’t done what she had, someone else would have. And he’d have taken her down with him. And the baby. “People actually love me now and that just infuriates you, doesn’t it? That you aren’t the best anymore. You can take that memory off to oblivion with you, but know that I’ll still come back from this. You won’t ruin me, not again.”

What was left between them? Good question. A slow smile crossed her face, an image in her mind. A pretty, dark-haired baby with her mother’s eyes. “The only thing left between us is my child. And you should know, it’s all for her. All of this. You meant the world to me… But she means more.”

The first attempt with the knife missed its intended mark, instead reaching closer to his shoulder. She didn’t feel badly for the pain it caused. Not considering the pain she’d felt over the last year and a half. This, though, was why she should have asked for the Colt. She’d been shooting since she was sixteen years old. But she’d fought a damned dragon with a sword, even if that had been her future. She could take out a damned demon with a knife.

Even if it was a demon who’d once inspired more love in her than she’d thought possible.

End the fairytale? No. Because the fairytale was back home, back with the people who loved her. Her family, her little girl and her handsome boy, and that man who treated her as an equal and not as a princess who needed to be kept on a pedestal. He needed her, now, and she’d pay for her sins later. “I’m not sorry,” she said quietly. “I almost wish I was.” And she thrust the knife deep into his chest, not even flinching as his skin and muscle gave way to the blade.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected it to feel like. It tore at everything he was now, every inch of him in a crackling furious rage. It was good work, good crafting and probably entirely magical. Killed by magic by the product of true love. He supposed that was fitting, dramatic and all. And there was no coming back this time. He was alright with that though.

Maybe it would be better. Oblivion. And she’d be joining him there soon enough. They all would.

He looked down at her, eyes flashing back from black to what she was more used to.

“I had it all worked out, a big dramatic final line but...I guess all I can say is, its in your heart now. Its in there. The darkness. Your own personal hell. Have fun with that.”

The second thrust of the knife was enough. He slumped into the trap into an entirely undignified heap. Gone. To the oblivion he had almost craved.

As he collapsed, as the soul that had belonged to Lucifer escaped once and for all, she nearly collapsed herself. It was over. It was done. Despite everything, despite her anger and her rage, she'd done it. She could deal with the consequences later. Now she needed to get to that damned basement and get the man she loved and the man she'd betrayed out alive.