Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Wicked Wild West
The wild west is kind to no one, especially Emma Swan.
The blonde is no stranger to getting her hands dirty for the sake of a job. She finds herself wondering for the second time that day why she even bothers doing her job in the first place. Bounty hunting was not on the top of her list of potential occupations – but when you spend most of your life fending for yourself, that kind of work comes naturally.
She dismounts her horse and ties him to the hitching post as she approaches the saloon, she hasn’t set foot in over 6 months. The saloon stands proudly in the heart of a dusty, sunbaked town she considers home though the term holds zero value to her. The worn, faded red swinging doors creak and moan as she pushes passed and enters the saloon. The smell of stale beer and aged wood mingled with the faint scent of tobacco greet her as she makes her way to the bar.
The floorboards creak in the background as the other patrons move about, a few mingling in the corner around a wooden table playing games of poker. The clink of coins and shuffling of cards fill the air as she passes them to head to the bar.
“Hey stranger,” greets the man she had come there to meet. He scoots his high-backed stool to make enough room to stand up, screeching against the floorboards as he does so before enveloping her in a tight embrace. Her arms come around to give him a tight squeeze before she pushes him away to pat him on the shoulder before taking the seat beside him.
“Hey, August. It’s been too long, hasn’t it?” she states, looking over to the bar keeper to order two more of whatever August had ordered before her arrival.
“Yeah, mainly because you’re so damn hard to track down,” August huffs as he finishes his jug of beer before pushing it aside to make room for his second one.
“And that’s how I like it. Less drama to deal with,” she lovingly says with a playful shove against his arm. “Well on the topic of drama…” He whispers, leaning closer to her. “There is a bounty I want you to take care of, and before you can decline, it’s paying out a handsome reward,” he tells her, watching her cross her arms in front of her chest – already rejecting his request before he can even finish.
“It’s been how long since we last saw each other? You could at least pretend to miss me before putting me to work,” she says incredulously. Their friendship was an odd one to say the least. They were first introduced to one another a few years back to work a bounty together. They have been insufferable ever since. Their relationship was akin to one of a brother and sister-- not that either one of them knew what that kind of relationship was supposed to look like. They both grew up as foster children, which was likely the reason why they got along so well. It was why they took such good care of one another.
“You know I missed you.”
“Yeah, I just wanted to hear you say it,” She responds with a wink as August starts to talk to her about the job, he wanted the blonde to complete. The bounty seemed simple, but there was one thing that threw her off.
“The bounty is a kid. August, you had me come all this way for this? No, thanks.” The blonde says as she gets up to leave.
“Woah, hold on! You haven’t heard what the reward is?”
“Not interested.”
“Its $10,000…”
“It’s what?”
Now that price gets her attention.
“Apparently, they really want this kid. I have a friend out in Boston saying they’ve seen someone matching his description wondering just outside of town. It’ll be an easy payout if you ask me,” August states while a shrug, bringing his attention back to the beer in front of him.
“What’s the catch?”
“No catch, just a specific drop-off. You have to meet them at these coordinates,” He passes along the bounty flyer where the directions are scribbled out. The location seems to be a couple hundred miles west of Boston. That will be one hell of a trip the blonde thinks to herself as her fingers graze the photo of the bounty in question. It’s of a young boy, maybe 10 years old. His hair is neatly pushed back, his smile wide as he looks into the camera lens.
“I’ll think about it,” She says as she finishes her beer and throws money down on the bar counter. August grabs her wrist before she’s able to make her exit.
“I did miss you, Swan.” The blonde smiles before finally making her way out of the saloon.
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Emma retreats to her room back in the inn around the corner, wanting to lay down and rest after her 12-hour trip to get into town to see August. It had been over a few months since they last spoke. August had stopped writing to her then because of her constant moving from one bounty to another. She never stayed in one place long enough to receive mail. It was nearing that time of year where she became a ghost, where the only thing that was preoccupying her time was hunting bounty. It appears that August had caught on to her theatrics and just so happened to offer her this job at the perfect time. She needed a new bounty to keep her mind from wandering, and this was going to work perfectly.
The job was suspiciously too easy for such a large ticket price. $10,000 for finding and bringing a kid back to his family. Regardless, the blonde needs the money and could use the distraction. She plans to sleep tonight and leave at the crack of dawn to start her trek to Boston. She will make a stop by the corner market to replenish her food before heading out. The trip will take 2 days if she keeps her stops to a minimum. The blonde strips down to her short sleeve shirt and underwear before tucking herself in and letting her eyes drift shut.
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She stirs awake from her sleep, her eyes blinking open as the first rays of sunlight pierce through the small, dusty window in the dainty room. It is filled with a golden hue, highlighting the rough-hewn beams of the ceiling and the faded floral wallpaper that peels slightly at the edges. The journey the night before must have rendered her useless for she had not noticed the status of the room that surrounds her. The bed creaks as Emma shifts, stretching her tired muscles. Every joint and bone in her body aches faintly, a constant reminder of the harsh life she leads. She runs a hand through her tousled hair, feeling the knots and dust of her journey.
She catches a sight of herself in the mirror that hangs across the way on the adjacent wall. The bags under her eyes seem to grow darker and darker these days. Her vivid green eyes, sharp and ever-watchful, glimmer with exhaustion. They were eyes that have seen too much for someone her age—eyes that have learned to trust cautiously and to expect betrayal.
Outside, the town is slowly coming to life. She hears her horse shuffling about as the distant clip-clops of other horse hooves on dirt roads mixes with the murmur of early risers. A breeze ruffles the curtain, carrying with it warmth and the promise of another scorching day under the relentless sun.
She swings her legs over the edge of the bed and sits up. She slips on her dark washed denim jeans before bending over to shove her feet into worn boots. The blonde reaches for her distressed leather vest, hanging on a peg beside the bed, and slips it over her shoulders, the familiar weight offering a sense of comfort. Her figure was striking, a woman whose presence demanded respect and whose demeanor was one of wary confidence. Standing at an athletic height, her frame lean and strong, a testament to the years she had spent living a rough, itinerant life. She ties her trusted crimson red bandana around her neck before reaching towards the bedside table for her weapon.
With a practiced motion, she checks the loaded revolver, ensuring its ready for whatever the day may bring. She’s used to the unpredictable nature of her life – the thrill of the case, the danger of outlaws, and the satisfaction of bringing justice to those who deserve it. It also brings a sense of purpose to a life she was never sure was ever meant to be hers.
She straps the holster to her hip before putting her gun away properly. She gets her things together before looking around to make sure she’s got everything. With a content nob of her head, she heads out of the inn to her horse. She is greeted by Bug, with a huff and a playful nudge. The blonde packs her things away onto the saddle before untying him from the post and walks alongside him to the corner shop. She fills her pouch with food that should last her until her arrival to Boston. As she’s getting ready to leave town, she finds August waiting for her at the town line.
“The boy was last seen here,” He points to the circle on the map he’s handed over to her.
“Thanks, August.”
“Be safe, Swan. If you can’t do that, then be smart, okay?”
“I am always safe,” she says nonchalantly as she stares down at the map. A smirk makes it way to her lips before she can look up to see the frown that laces August’s face.
“What?”
“Nothing…”
“August…”
“It’s just, I heard something about this bounty, and it’s made me nervous.”
“Well go on.”
“The kid…he’s a mayor’s son, so there may be others out there to claim this bounty too. Just keep your head on a swivel, Em.”
She gives him a look that says everything. This isn’t her first rodeo. She has practically done this her entire life, and she’s done it well. She’s encountered just about everything, and this bounty wouldn’t be any different from what she’s done before. Find the bounty, deliver them dead or alive—in this case alive—and go home richer than when you left. This bounty would be one of the easier jobs she’s been given, and she plans on taking advantage of that.
She reaches out to tap him on the cheek lovingly, causing August to smile. She nods her thanks before trotting passed him and out of town toward Boston.
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8 hours into her journey to Boston, Emma makes her first stop. She pulls off the trail and towards a small pond before setting up camp to rest a bit before starting back up again. She starts a small fire with whatever kindling she can find and warms up a tin of beans while rummaging in her pack for the loaf of bread she packed earlier.
She polishes off the beans quickly and takes a few bites of bread before she tosses the rest to her horse. The blonde pulls out her map to get a better idea of how much longer they have until they reach their destination. She makes note that the nearest town is 5 more hours east and that they should make it there just before sundown. She tops off her canteen with water at the pond they’ve camped next to. She crouches down to do so next to her horse as he drinks. She reaches over to give him a quick pet before she heads back over to pack up their camp.
They head back onto the trail to start the 5-hour journey towards the closet town. The midday heat is radiating off the dry, cracked earth, creating shimmering waves in the distance. She nudges her horse, Bug, into a steady trot, the rhythmic clop of hooves providing a comforting cadence against the silence of the open plains.
The landscape stretches out endlessly before her, a patchwork of sagebrush and rocky outcrops, interspersed with the occasional spindly cactus. The air is dry and dusty, each breath filled with the earthly scent of the desert. She adjusts the bandana around her neck to cover her nose and mouth to attempt to filter the dusty polluted air from her lungs.
The blonde’s eyes scan the horizon, ever vigilant for signs of movement. The trail she is taking tends to be deserted by any human signs of life, but she can never be too careful. As they ride on, a gentle breeze picks up, rustling the sparse vegetation and provides a brief respite from the heat. She reaches down, patting Bug’s neck affectionately. “Just a little further.” She murmurs, her voice barely audible over the sound of hoofbeats. Bug has been with her since she was a teenager. Now nearing 28 years of age, her horse has been the only constant she’s had in her life for a very long time. Hell, she’s known the horse longer than she’s known August. With a life like the one Emma leads, there’s very little to show for it, but she has her horse and that’s all that matters.
With the horizon painting itself in hues of pink and orange, Emma spots the small town she had marked on the map. The wooden buildings clustered together, a beacon of civilization in the vast wilderness. The blonde rides down the main street, scanning for a suitable place to rest and spots an inn near the edge of town. She guides Bug to the hitching post and dismounts. After securing her horse and leaving him with food and water, Emma enters the inn.
The interior is dimly lit, the warm glow of lanterns being the singular source of light. She interacts with the innkeeper to secure a room for the night. She makes her way to the small, but comfortable room that’s located on the second floor of the inn. She drops her saddlebags onto the floor once she enters, looking around. After a quick wash, she heads downstairs to the dining area, where a hearty stew and fresh bread awaits.
After finishing her meal, the blonde returns to her room, securing the door behind her. She lays on the bed as she stares up at the ceiling, her mind racing with plans for the days ahead. The journey to Boston has neared its midway point and the bounty that much closer to completion. She lets herself wonder of the child’s whereabouts—if he was safe? If he was even in Boston anymore? What would cause a kid to run away from home like this? These thoughts were weighing heavy on her mind.
But for now, in the quiet of the inn, she allows herself a moment of peace. Tomorrow, she will continue to Boston to find the kid, but tonight, she will rest and gather her strength for the rest of the journey that laid ahead.
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Bug trots wearily as they approach the outskirts of Boston. The bustling hub of activity and commerce. The streets were paved with cobblestones, a stark contrast to the dirt roads she traveled on for days. The city had a colonial charm with rough edges. It brought with it a sense of hope, and new beginnings.
As she rides into the heat of the city, Her eyes are drawn to a weathered poster nailed to a nearby post. It flapped slightly in the breeze, catching the late afternoon sunlight. She reins in Bug and leans forward, squinting at the faded print. A chill runs down her spine as she recognizes the face staring back at her – The kid.
MISSING
Henry Mills
Age: 11
Last Seen: Near Storybrooke
Reward given upon return.
The blonde’s jaw tightens. Henry, the kid who is supposed to be her bounty is also apparently missing. The coordinates for the drop off location turn out to be nowhere near this so-called town of Storybrooke. Things are not adding up and she can’t shake the feeling that something more sinister is at play. Why would someone put a bounty on a missing child?
She urges Bug forward, her mind racing with questions that have little to no explanations. The streets are bustling with activity—merchants hawking their wares, children darting between horses, and groups of rough-looking men congregate in shadowy corners. Her hand instinctively rests on the hilt of her revolver as she makes her way into the town.
Spotting a saloon with a sign that reads “The Rusty Nail.” Emma decides to stop for a drink and gather information. She dismounts, leaving her horse tied to the hitching post before pushing through the swinging doors. The saloon, like the one she had met August in earlier this week, leaves her with a sense of déjà vu. Low conversations and dark eyes follow her all the way to the bar.
She nods at the barkeeper as he turns to pour her a couple fingers worth of whiskey. Emma slides over a few coins as the grizzly man sets the glass in front of her. As she sips her drink, her ears perk up at the sound of a familiar name. A group of men sat at a nearby table, their voices low but intense. One of them speaking with an accent that she could not place.
“That Henry kid has got a high price on his head,” one of the men mutters.
The darked hair one who spoke with the accent leans back in his chair, a predatory grin on his face. “Aye, and whoever finds him will be set for life. We’ve got to be smart about this, lads. If we split up, we can cover more ground.”
Her grip tightens around her glass. She downs the rest of the amber liquid, grimacing as she does so and slips out of the saloon. Her mind set on finding the boy before those crooks can.
As she navigates the narrow alleys and bustling streets, her green eyes scan every face, every shadow. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the buildings. Emma turns a corner and spots an old, abandoned barn. The windows were broken, and the door hung loosely on its hinges.
Her instincts tell her to check it out. She’s stayed in sketchier places when she was younger and would run away from the families the promised to take care of her but never did. She approaches cautiously, her heart ponding in her chest. From inside, she hears muffled voices and the sound of scuffling. She hops off her horse and sprints towards the barn. She pushes passed the broken doors slightly, peering into the dim interior.
The boy was there, backed into a corner by the trio of men she encountered back at the saloon. His face pale, and his eyes wide with fear. “Leave me alone!” he shouted, his voice cracking.
One of the men laugh, a cruel sound that echoed through the empty space. “Come on, kid. We just want to talk.”
Her blood boils. She drew her revolver and stepped into the room, her voice steady and commanding. “Back away from him. Now.”
The men turn, surprise and anger flashing across their faces. “Who the hell are you?” one of them snarls.
She levels her gun at them, aims and shoots the man closest to the kid in the leg. He shouts out in pain, falling onto the ground in a heap of aguish. Her eyes cold and unwavering, “I’m one hell of a nightmare, so don’t try me. Step away from the kid.”
“You do not know what you’re getting yourself into, lass,” The dark haired one states as he raises his hands in surrender, the third man reaching over to pull his partner further away from the kid.
There is a tense moment of silence, the injured one whimpering in agony as the other two try to get him on his feet, favoring the unwounded leg. She keeps her gun trained on them as she moves to the kid’s side, her heart aching at the sight of his terror.
“I’ll take my chances,” she says to the men, her eyes never leave them. “Let’s go, kid.”
She wraps an arm around Henry’s shoulders and guides him to the exit, her body facing the men as she walks them both out of the barn.
Henry looks up at her, his expression a mix of relief and confusion. “Who are you? How do you know my name?”
“My name’s Emma, and I’m taking you back to Storybrooke,” she tells him as she hops onto her horse. She stretches out her hand to pull him up behind her, but the child is looking at her with apprehension. His eyes are narrowed with suspicion.
“I know you can’t trust me right now, but you’re going to have to, okay? We need to get out of here.”
Henry watches her closely, his head tilted slightly as he analyzes her. He hesitates for a moment before grabbing onto her hand. She smiles, a small reassuring gesture before swiftly helping the kid up on the horse with her. She nudges Bug into a sprint as they make their way into the night, leaving behind three vengeful and angry men and the ruthless city of Boston.
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The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, as they ride away from Boston. The blonde steals a glance back at the kid, his face a mix of relief and lingering suspicion.
“So, kid,” she begins, trying to break the silence, “care to tell me why you decided to take off on your own?”
Henry glances at her, his expression guarded. “I had to get away. I couldn’t stand it anymore.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Couldn’t stand what?”
“Everything,” Henry says, his voice tinging with frustration. “The way people look at my mom, the way they treat her. It’s like no one trusts us, no matter what we do.”
She nods, understanding his frustration. “I know it’s tough, but running away isn’t the answer. Your parents are probably worried sick about you.”
Henry signs, looking down at his jeans. “I didn’t think anyone would come after me. I thought…maybe they’d be better off without me.”
Her heart ached at his words. Familiar words that she had once said herself back when she was his age. “Hey, don’t say that. Your mother loves you, kid,” The blonde assumed as much with there being missing posters hanging around town for him. She never had missing posters made for her when she would run away.
Henry was silent for a moment, then looks up at Emma curiously. “Who are you?”
“I’m just a bounty hunter who happened to be in the right place at the right time.”
“So, you’re like a hero, then?”
“I wouldn’t go that far, kid. Just doing my job.”
Henry’s eyes sparkle with a bit of the mischief that had been absent before. “A bounty hunter? Do you catch bad guys all the time?”
“More often than not,” She replies, smirking. “Though sometimes it’s just runaway kids causing trouble.”
Henry grins, a small but genuine smile. “Guess I’m one of those troublemakers, huh?”
“Yup,” she says, giving him a playful nudge with her elbow. “The biggest one I’ve ever seen.”
They ride in companionable silence for a while, the sound of nature surrounds them. The open plains give way to the familiar terrain of Storybrooke, and Emma can sense Henry's tension easing as they get closer to home.
"So, why did you really run away?" She asks softly, noticing there was more to his story.
Henry hesitates then speaks quietly. "It's my grandma. She's...she's doing something. I heard people in town talking about a plan to take me away from my mom. I didn't want to be a part of it."
Her grip on the reins tightens. Now she was seeing the bigger picture. The missing posters were posted by his mother while the bounty was placed by the grandmother. "Your grandmother, huh? Sounds like she's a real piece of work."
Henry nods vigorously. "She's always trying to control everything. I couldn't let her use me to hurt my mom."
Her respect for the kid grows. He has a good head on his shoulders, even if his methods are bit reckless. "You did the right thing by telling me, Henry. I’ll make sure she never hurts you again.”
Where did that sentiment come from?
Was it because he reminds her so much of how she was when she was his age? Regardless of the reason, the determination to ensure that Henry never experiences the horrors she once had and to protect him, grows with each interaction they share. Emma never had anyone stand up for her or fight in her corner, yet she felt the sudden need to do so for the kid. All she knew was the kid was growing on her, and she’d do her best to keep him out of harm’s way.
Henry looks at her with hope in his eyes. "You think we can stop her?"
She meets his gaze with determination. "I know we can. I catch bad guys for a living, remember?”
As they approached the outskirts of Storybrooke, Emma felt a renewed sense of purpose. She glanced at Henry, who was watching the familiar scenery with a mix of relief and apprehension.
"Welcome home, Henry," Emma says softly.
Henry looks at her and smiles. "Thanks, Emma. I'm glad you're here."
She returns the smile, feeling a bond forming between them. "Me too, kid. Me too."
Together, they ride into Storybrooke, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, united in their determination to protect the ones that they care about, and most importantly to fight for the good guys. Because good always wins…
Right?