DISCLAIMER: I do not own Once Upon A Time or ABC.

Sweat poured down Big Jim's face as he and the other two men climbed through the tunnels. They had worked in secret for over a year, carefully digging this tunnel, detailing every part of their escape. The attempt wasn't supposed to be made for another month, when half the security guards were transferred to the new super-max facility they had just finished building and the replacements were still getting used to the place. They'd had to scrap that plan, however, when they'd learned that the prison was transferring two of them to the new facility as well. The two that had received life sentences without the possibility of parole. The third was to remain here, and had another forty years before he was eligible for parole. Big Jim could tell that the third man wasn't thrilled about it, but knew that the other two would kill him rather than blow the only chance they had to escape. There really was no honor among thieves.

He wasn't always this way. Once, he'd had a wife, a good job, and a kid. Then the stupid economy blew-up and he was laid off while the jokers who had caused the mess in the first place either got bailed out by their paid-for-politicians or received multi-million dollar golden parachutes while the poor who did nothing wrong were left to starve. Then his wife left him for one of those no good crooks, so he did what anyone would do under those circumstances. He put two bullets in the head of his wife and that no good millionaire, stole the two million dollars in cash he kept in his mansion and fled with his nine-month old son to Nevada.

He suspected the police would come after him, but took pains to make sure they wouldn't find him. He bought a doomsday house in the middle of nowhere from some paranoid anti-government guy with enough food for five years. He figured by that time, the world at large would have long forgotten his case and he could resurface with a new name and identity. His son wasn't old enough to remember his real name or his mother, so he would believe the story that his mother had died in childbirth.

He would have to alter his appearance and, sure, there was always a chance that MSNBC or CNN would air one of those hour-long segments on his case, so he would have to be vigilant. Before he could worry about that too much, however, someone found him, and to make matters worse, it wasn't the police or the FBI, it was some dame bounty hunter hired by his wife's sister.

So he went to jail, sentenced to life without the possibility of parole, when he should have been raising his son. He knew it was pointless going after his son now. He was living with his aunt who would have told him only bad things about his father if she told him anything at all and he had kind of liked her back when things were going well with his wife. Besides, he had no money and no way to provide for his son now. No, as much as it irked him, his son was better off with his aunt.

He was going to have his revenge, though. For the last four years, sitting in that jail cell, he thought of nothing else. He would get even with the bitch who'd stolen his life. He would have the head of Emma Swan.