entranceway | ( one; voice )

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( one; voice )

[Emma has read what information has been made available, she’s walked the grounds and the corridors of some of the mansion’s ground floor, and she’s combed through what public postings she could find to look through on the device she’d found in the pocket opposite of where she kept her own phone. She’s been digging for evidence since she got here, but what she’s found?

She’s not buying it. The message that comes through is voice only, not wanting to reveal her face or her exact location right away-- though she’s pretty damn sure that whoever’s responsible for this is watching her and has a good idea of where she is, if not who.]

Look. I know someone is out there listening.

[She doesn’t know exactly who, but someone.]

This game of yours? I’m not interested. I don’t know how you got me here, or how you set all this up. Maybe it’s some messed-up alternate reality game, but I didn’t opt in for any of this. I don’t care how elaborate it is, or how much work went into it-- my kid is at home waiting for me, and I am not screwing around.

[Her tone is hard, angry rather than anxious, determination winning out over uncertainty.]

‘Wonderland.’ Cute, but I’m not impressed. All I want is for you to point me towards the exit. You can do me a solid and we can do this the easy way-- or we can do it the hard way. Trust me, whatever weird stuff you might be into, I can promise you won’t be happy if we go that route.

[She stays on the line, just to wait for any kind of possible response-- but she doesn’t really know what to expect. This entire thing has her out of her depth, even if she’s not willing to admit it.]

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Finally.

[ The voice on the other end seems so relieved. ]

I'm glad I'm not the only one who showed up with zero chances of subscribing to magical fairy tale worlds. I was brought here too, just a couple weeks ago, actually? I get the feeling a lot of us, probably all of us are sort of...here without wanting to be.

[ He pauses for a beat. ]

I'm sorry about your kid, but from what I've pieced together, he shouldn't even know you're gone? It still sounds insane though, so. I have no idea if it's believable or not.

Mind if I ask what this 'hard way' of yours is? Because I'll tell you right now for free, this place doesn't give one single shit about whether or not you want to be here or who it took you away from.

[Not the first person to roll in here making threats and demanding answers, and won't be the last. Crowley is audibly unimpressed.

Not that he supposes she'll care about that, one way or another.]

Really, I'm intrigued. But just eff-why-eye, no one will know you're missing.

Thank you.

[She still sounds impatient and irate, but she's glad someone seems to be on her side. She's read everything that supposedly explains this place, and she's not buying what 'Wonderland' is selling.]

I read that, too. That 'time stops,' which is just impossible.

[Short of some very recently discovered miracle of science, it's just not happening.]

Got any theories on what the real deal is here? Whoever put this place together must have a hell of a lot of money and way too much time on their hands.

Depends. You the creep who made this happen?

[She grimaces, unseen.]

Yeah, I read that in the 'tourist's guide' this place provides. That doesn't make it true. Anyone can write whatever they want on a piece of paper or post whatever they feel like on a network.

[That doesn't make it real, or even remotely believable.]

I figured I died? But that's apparently not the case because - hold onto something - there are actual dead people here. Then, a woman tried to convince me she was my mother, so that's...insane. So I switched my theory to fever dream. Especially after the walking, talking skeleton.

[ Now he has no idea what to think. He's just...here. ]

For what it's worth though, there are a lot of people who don't want to be here, they just don't know how to get out. Outside, you could walk forever. It's allegedly infinite.

Don't waste the energy sweetheart. No one's listening, and if they are, they don't care. The abduction scenario's a regular trick and the local powerhouses aren't big on do-overs.

It's not nice to call people names. But no, I'm not. Stuck here, just like you are.

[Not that he sounds like he cares. The owner of the voice pauses, just to take a drag on a cigarette.]

And, sure, anyone can write anything they want to, but how many people do you need to confirm something before you accept it as fact? Empirical evidence is abound, if you're actually open to listening to it.

Dead people, or crazy people who think they're dead?

[Skepticism. So much skepticism. Sorry, guy, she doesn't know you from Adam.]

Fever dream sounds at least plausible. [Pause.] Skeleton. You've got to be kidding.

[It's not a great joke, but.]

That's crazy. No place is infinite.

Look, I'm telling you, these are the 'facts.' Please tell me you can hear the air quotes in my voice.

[ Because he agrees, this is all impossible. ]

Take a walk down the hallway. Toward the end, toward the far wall. That's all I can tell you to try right now. When I did it, I wound up getting more exercise than I have in over a year.

If it's a regular thing, how the hell has nobody caught them yet?

[Seriously, is everyone at the N.Y.P.D. asleep on the job? Actually, scratch that, she already knows the answer, given how much time she spends working cases to find people they lost. This place is definitely big enough that it should be hard to miss, but given the state of the grounds, her current bet is that she was somehow drugged and dragged upstate.]

Don't bother telling me to 'save my breath.' My being here, wherever this actually is, means my son could be in danger.

[Which means she's not shutting up or giving up looking for answers anytime soon.]

You don't sound too bothered by it.

[Which is suspicious as all hell.]

There's nothing 'empirical' about a place that claims to be magic. There are a dozen other explanations for why a place like this exists, right now my money is on someone with an endless bank account, nothing better to do and a seriously damaged psyche.

Air quotes definitely audible.

[They're on the same side here, definitely.]

Right, walk down the 'infinite' murder hallway.

[Because this is some weirdly colorful murder house, right? That's the theory she's running with right now.]

Do we know where this place is actually located? How far we might be from New York? I'm guessing the phone system is limited to the immediate area, or else someone would have called the cops ages ago.

Don't mistake my apparent composure for ease, madam.

[Just for that moment, his tone turns sharp, but the edge fades off as quickly as it rose up.]

Your money would be wrong, on that count. [A pause, then--] The damaged psyche part wouldn't be too far off, though, I suppose. I'd just love to hear your other theories.

Your messages are broadcast to this entire world. Everyone is listening, but none of us are in a different situation than yourself.

[ Or could, if they had a mind to. Cullen rarely does it to engage, he has grown no fonder of the device since his arrival. Lately... he has been kept indoors more than usual. Long enough to... attempt a contribution. ]

Time spent here has no bearing on time in the world you came from. Your child will be fine. [ The other way around is- probably a different matter. ] What else we know of our circumstances is kept in the library, but leaving voluntarily is not among it.

Don't call me 'madam.'

[The response is both pointed and immediate.]

I live in New York. You'd be amazed at the kind of shit people do just to mess with other people when they've got the resources.

[The possibilities are endless.]

Right now? I'm not interested in discussing theories, I'm interested in finding my son. I can't trust that he wasn't dragged here, too, whoever might be responsible. If they found me, there's no reason they couldn't have grabbed him, too.

So, here's what I've worked out so far: This place is...nowhere. There are people here from 18th century Scotland, and there are people here who live in space. All types. Met a lot of them at one of the very many bars you'll find here because what we all have in common, apparently, is alcohol.

[ Henry lets out a breath and runs a hand over the top of his head. ]

It's been better to just...go with it? Not accept it, two different things. But going with it while still actively looking for a way out seems to be what a lot of people do. Because no, there's no way out of here that anyone's been able to tell me, no calling out. No internet, even.

Edited 2017-12-04 21:13 (UTC)

Good. If enough people hear this, at least one of them has to be the right one.

[Or so she figures. Her tone is still shot and clipped, impatient. Whoever is responsible better learn not to mess with Single Moms.]

I read some of it already, at least what I could get my hands on right after I woke up. People have said that time stops 'back home,' which is just-- it's crazy talk.

[How is everyone else just okay with that?]

Whoever's in charge must have this place locked down pretty good, to keep this many people here indefinitely.

Hell of a bad acid trip, huh? [She's pretty sure of the other universe theory, but, she'll...humor the voice here.]

So this place is entirely cut off.

[She'd already suspected that much, but she doesn't love having it confirmed. She sighs heavily, some of that anger subsiding to become weariness instead. She's running out of options way more quickly than she's prepared to deal with.]

... how do we feel about this being some kind of drug-induced coma? Or maybe everyone's been brainwashed.

[No, okay, that sounds stupid. Forget she said that.]

It's high on my list of theories, at this point.

[Because this place can't be what people claim it is. There are a million other possible explanations.]

[ Sarah gets it, she's seen it, but one thing in particular sticks out to her and she feels that very familiar twisting in her chest at the thought of Sawyer. ]

I have a kid at home, too. And everyone's told me what should be happening, but I can't help it, some nights I can't sleep. I feel like I can't breathe at the idea he might be missing me.

I'm sorry you're here, that you have to go through that, too.

So, I've written a few things out. There's a really public, typically pretty crowded coffee shop on the first floor. Maybe we could work together to figure something out?

My name's Henry, by the way. At the very least, who knows, maybe we find out we're from the same place or something.

[Sarah's is the first response that actually gives Emma pause, gives her a reason to soften. Her ire is starting to burn out now-- she's no less furious, but she's quickly coming to the conclusion that nobody she can reach through this device is going to help her anytime soon.]

You're the first person who's gotten it.

[The first one to understand that no matter what anyone says, no matter how many 'facts' they spout off, it's not enough. Nothing can ease that kind of anxiety.]

What's his name?

[She'd known it was possible, that Emma would one day find her way back to Wonderland. There was no chance she'd remember being here, of course, but it would still mean she was back. That finally, Henry would have both his mothers again like he deserves.

And God knows she could use the help with this latest curse.

The thought crosses her mind that if Henry's cursed, Emma might be too, but... There's too much at stake right now to dance around the subject.]

You always did have a habit of showing up when you're needed most, Emma.

Maybe the two of us together can find something we might have missed on our own.

[Two heads are better than one, after all. Wait--]

Henry?

[Her tone softens just a little, and she can't help smiling to herself, a bit wistful.]

That's my son's name, too. I'm Emma.

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