Disclaimer: I still own nada.

A/N: Another month, another chapter. Thank you so, so much to everyone who read, reviewed, and followed/favorited the first chapter. I'm glad that so many people are interested in this story. You seriously have no idea how much that means to me. You're the reason I write.

A/N: Thank you to Melissa, for being my spectacular beta bee, and Kristy, for being my cheerleader.


It was time.

It was strange to think of time when it mattered so little to him. He looked exactly the same as he had a century ago, never mind a decade. But somehow, he knew, this time, this anniversary, would be different.

He'd watched her terrorize what had once been Snow and Charming's kingdom for several long, agonizing years. They weren't agonizing because of the pain – no, he was more than comfortable with the pain and suffering of others. It was seeing the toll that her torment had taken on the boy, that sad, sweet boy who'd once worked in the kitchens. The boy who could be the difference to a life in the shadows, working for her, or a life in the open, working for whoever would pay the highest price. As it was now, the boy was not her only slave.

He'd watched the boy from afar, watched as the child grew into a man, something he had never seen his own son do. As a boy, he had always been reserved, his love for the young princess never fully expressed. But now he was downright depressing. He kept to himself, with only a dog for company. The light had long since gone out of his deep blue eyes, hidden behind a haze of despair.

It could have been yesterday that he'd found their bodies. The dining hall was abandoned, as was most of the castle. He had been picking his way through the carnage, half looking for her, and half admiring her work. He'd stumbled upon them by accident, and at once, he knew that nothing would ever be the same. He'd run his hands through the telltale dust on the floor, dust that could only have come from one place. As natural as the dust felt beneath his fingers, he couldn't help but feel that she had made a terrible mistake in murdering Snow White.

He knew what he had to do. He'd scampered from the room, glancing down the hall for other signs of life. When he'd seen the dwarf, he'd made his move, knocking over a suit of armor. He'd quickly hidden in the shadows as the dwarf ran toward him, axe out. From the dwarf's cry and yell for his fellow men, he knew what had happened next.

And it would make all the difference in the world.


He was woken by a low whine followed by a cold nudge. Graham opened his eyes to find a pair of big green eyes staring back at him. Once the wolf saw that he was awake, she whined again and looked at the empty fireplace. Graham chuckled as he got to his feet. "Sorry, Ghost," he murmured, patting her on the head. "I didn't think it would get so cold."

He lit the fire quickly and then sat back. Ghost laid down next to him, resting her head on his knee. He stroked her head automatically, staring at the dancing flames. It was in these moments, when he sat in front of the fire with her, that he was most aware of the fact that Ghost was his only friend. The one living thing in this world he truly loved, and by whom he was loved in return. After all, they shared the same loss.

He'd found Ghost one night by chance, when he'd been looking for a way out of the castle. It couldn't have been more than a few days after the siege. He'd still been slightly dizzy after hitting his head and he'd stumbled a bit as he felt his way along the dark passage leading out of the castle from the kitchen. He'd come across several wolves, probably all looking for the same escape route that he was. At once, he'd recognized them as kindred spirits, sole survivors of the devastating attack. He knew they could find safety together.

But she had found them, too, and within seconds, she'd slaughtered all of the wolves. All except one.

At the time, he'd thought that she'd spared the wolf because she cared about him and wanted him to be happy. Because she could see how much he wanted a friend, how upset he was by the senseless killing of animals. He'd wondered if maybe, deep down, she really did love him, if she'd had any idea of his affinity for wolves. How they represented family, his first family, the only family he'd really known besides the royal one.

This had been a comforting thought ten years ago. But now he knew she'd never really loved him. She'd spared Ghost's life so that he would think she was kind, to win him over. It had never been about him at all. It always had been, was, and would be about her. Her need to control him, keep him placated and compliant. She didn't see him as a person, but an object; her possession. She owned him, and he would forever be her prisoner.

He could no longer look ahead, and instead buried his face in Ghost's hide. The dance of yellow and orange light flickered over them in a way he could not escape, hadn't been able to each time the anniversary drew near. The memories of that night still haunted him, as he suspected the memory of watching her family be slaughtered would always haunt Ghost. Two sorry, lost souls, brought together by the same loss. Both of them had lost their families; both of them had lost their best friends.

He didn't know why he communicated so well with Ghost. They never communicated in words – at least, she never replied with words. But somehow, he could sense what she was thinking, just as she could read him, even when he didn't speak. He supposed it had something to do with the wolves he'd spent time with when he was very young. Or maybe it was because Ghost wasn't an ordinary wolf, wasn't even a wolf at all, but a woman assuming her other identity for her own protection.

He hadn't known Red well growing up. She was Snow's best friend, and he often saw her coming and going from the castle, but he'd only exchanged a few words with her, and always in the context of his duties as a servant boy. But now that it was just the two of them, two survivors of the massacre, he felt he knew her better than anyone. Even better than –

His chest tightened. He lifted his head up from Ghost's body, not wanting to cry into her fur. He didn't really expect the tears to come; they so rarely did anymore. Still, he liked to be careful. Ghost sat up, too, resting her head on his shoulder and leaning into him. He wrapped one arm around her and the other around his knees, hiding his head in his elbow.

It was too painful to think about her. It brought back too many memories, both of the happier times they'd spent together, as well as what had happened the last time he'd seen her. He had no way of knowing where that portal had taken her. He used to take comfort in imagining that the portal brought her to a peaceful realm, one with meadows and flowers and sunshine. He used to imagine a kind family taking her in, a lost child, and raising her as their own. He'd imagined her happy, safe, and loved.

But the world was cruel; he knew that better than anyone. If a decade as Regina's pet had taught him anything, it was that evil and darkness had the power to snuff out all of the light. Goodness hadn't protected Snow and Charming from being murdered; justice hadn't made Charming's blade more powerful than Regina's magic. And Emma's kindness might not be enough for her to find a loving family. When the world was this dark, he could only imagine her starving on the cold, rainy streets, begging for scraps of food from indifferent passersby.

He felt something wet on his cheek. For a second he wondered if the tears had come after all, but then he realized it was Ghost's cold, wet nose pressed up against his skin. He lifted his head. Her look was gentle, and yet, there was a hint of sternness. Ghost had given him many reproving stares over the years, especially when the anniversary was near.

He patted her on the head. "I know, girl," he said, sighing. "But it's just that time of year."


Regina drummed her fingers on the armrest as she waited. She couldn't understand what was taking so long; how hard was it to find some peasant and ask them why they were dancing like crazy people in the street? She rose from the chair and headed back over to the window. The commotion hadn't died down at all, and that only heightened her sense of unease. She had been in power for almost a decade now, and she had never seen anything like this. Surely the peasants knew that there was no use in rising up against her. One fireball and they would all be ashes.

"Your Majesty?"

Regina turned around. A young peasant boy stood in front of her. Regina snapped her fingers to remove his disguise, and the guard fell to his knees, bowing before his queen.

"Get up," she said impatiently. "What have you learned?"

"It's the baker's wife, Your Majesty," he began. "She has finally given birth to the triplets. There had been some concern with one of them – one came out not breathing – but they were able to save it. So now-"

"Silence!" Regina waved her hand, sending the guard flying over to the window, pressing his face up to the glass. "You think that this is all because some housewife managed to pop out some sniveling brats?" She peeked around the guard's body to look out the window. The peasants were still gathering, and the jubilant mood hadn't died down. "Don't you understand what this means?" she snapped. "There's only one reason these people would be so happy, and it's not because of a baby."

"Well, three babies, Your Majest-"

Regina growled in frustration and threw the guard to the ground, placing her foot on his neck. "Did I give you the brains of a peasant boy with that costume? We haven't seen anything like this in ten years. Don't you know what day it is?" The guard began spluttering, and Regina pressed down harder on his neck. She leaned over and hissed, "Don't you realize how close we are to the anniversary? If they're planning a revolt, it will be around then."

"I'm – I'm-"

"Yes, yes, you're sorry." Regina moved her hand to his chest. "You're all sorry." She stuck her hand into his chest and yanked out his heart. The guard's eyes went wide, and her smile widened as she squeezed the heart tightly. When it was over, she opened her fist and let the dust fall over his uniform.

"Guards!" she yelled. Two of them appeared almost instantly. "Clean this up." She nudged the body on the ground. They practically tripped over themselves as they scrambled to the guard's body and began dragging him from the room. Regina slammed the door shut behind them and turned back to the window.

Was it her imagination or was the size of the crowd actually growing larger? What was the point of having guards if they couldn't do their jobs and find her the most basic information, information that was almost more critical for her protection than having guards stationed at every door? Clearly, whatever had these peasants riled up was more important than some woman managing to not die in childbirth. And if it was more important than that, it must also be more dangerous for her. She had to find out what it was, and if her guards couldn't be trusted to retrieve the information, that only left one other option.

Regina snapped her fingers, transforming her billowing, high-collared dress into a tattered peasant's smock. She ran her fingers through her hair, allowing it to hang loose over her shoulders. The color amused her; she'd never really imagined her as a blonde. Satisfied that no one would recognize her, she snapped her fingers again, reappearing in an alleyway off of the main town square.

It had been a long time since she'd mingled with the commoners. She made a point of not associating herself with them. The castle was so much more comfortable. Regina felt a twinge of unease as she stepped out from the alleyway. Even if no one would recognize her appearance, her discomfort might give her away.

"Have you heard?" A young woman came rushing up to her. Before Regina could stop her, the woman grabbed her hands, practically jumping out of her skin with excitement. "I can't believe it!"

Regina forced a smile. "No, what happened?"

"He's alive!" the woman exclaimed. "The king is alive!"

"What ki–-" Regina stopped herself mid-word. It was obvious which king. For the commoners, there was only one king.

"How – how is this possible?" Regina managed. "Is the queen – is she-"

The woman shook her head. "I don't think so. It's just the king."

At least one of them stayed dead.

"I– I can't believe he survived." Regina made sure her tone sounded awed instead of repulsed. "I thought for sure he was dead."

He certainly looked dead enough to me.

"I know, I thought so, too!" the woman gushed. "Oh, but this is such wonderful news. If he's alive, then he'll come back and fight for us. He will overthrow the Evil Queen once and for all!"

"That would be…something." Regina noticed the woman giving her a strange look, and quickly added, "I just – it's been so hard for me and my family since they died. I don't know if I can get my hopes up that one of them is alive. It would be so much more devastating if the rumor isn't true-"

"Oh, it's definitely true!" the woman insisted. "It's more than a rumor."

"How do you know?" Regina asked. "Have you seen him?"

"No," she replied. "But I– I have to believe in something, you know? He would want us to hope."

Regina restrained from rolling her eyes. "I know what you mean," she said. "Thank you for telling me this. I have to get home – I'm sure my son will be overjoyed to hear this news!"

The woman smiled, and Regina tore herself away as fast as she could. She waited until the woman's back was turned before disappearing in a cloud of smoke.


"The Queen requests your presence."

Graham glanced up. One of the guards was standing in the doorway. Graham decided not to point out how rude it was of the guard not to knock, seeing as the guard looked as displeased with this assignment as Graham felt.

"Fine," he replied, though he made no effort to get up. When the guard didn't retreat, Graham added, "I know how to get to the throne room, thanks."

"Sorry," the guard said, sounding anything but. "She told me not to return without you."

Graham rolled his eyes at Ghost. "Fine," he conceded. "Just give me a minute." Or ten.

He hated being summoned. He hated seeing her guards in his quarters, the one space that he had to himself. It was just one more reminder about how little freedom he had. The least he could do was savor the remaining Regina-free moments by making the guard squirm. As powerful as it felt to be able to exert some control over something, he also hated himself for feeling that way. Regina took pleasure in the pain of others. It disgusted him that he could do the same.

He could no longer sit comfortably with this thought, so sighed and got to his feet. "Be back, girl," he mouthed to Ghost, as he followed the guard out of the room. Neither spoke on the way to the throne room, and Graham relished the last moments of silence. All too soon they were there. The guard knocked on the door, and Regina called for them to enter. Graham reluctantly followed the guard inside.

"Graham, darling," Regina said, her voice sickeningly sweet. "Come here, pet." She brought one hand under his chin and tilted his head so he was meeting her eyes. Graham stayed still, keeping his expression stony. He knew better than to fight back. He'd learned long ago that resistance was futile, and the quickest way to get away was to give in.

"How are you?"

"Fine," he replied stiffly. "You wanted to see me?"

"I did, I did," she said, smiling widely. Graham pulled back, forcing her to drop her hand. He hated when she touched him, especially under his chin. He'd seen goats touched like that when he was living in the stables. He knew it was done to control them. When he moved, Regina's eyes flashed for a moment and he wondered if she would protest. But the next moment, she clasped her hands together as though it had been her idea to pull back in the first place.

"Come, sit." She led him over to the chair beside her throne. He swallowed back his objections. He remembered, once, feeling honored to sit next to her, as though she were including him. But mostly he remembered the way she abused her power, the violence she perpetrated, and the lives she stole, all while occupying this throne.

It's just a chair, he reminded himself. But the words were useless, because it wasn't just a chair. It wasn't supposed to be Regina's chair. And that's what killed him most of all.

This would have been her throne.

"I wanted to ask you something, Graham."

He cringed inwardly. He hated hearing his name, the name that Snow had given him, in Regina's voice. It just added to the list of things she had stolen from him.

"Yes?" he asked impatiently when she still hadn't spoken.

She smiled again, though he thought it looked more like a leer. "I've heard a troubling rumor."

"Oh?"

"It seems that someone has been telling the peasants that the king survived. They've got some crazy idea that he's going to come back and save them."

Graham blinked. He hadn't known what to expect, but he hadn't been expecting that. It sounded like a cruel joke. Why would anyone say that Charming had survived when he hadn't? He felt a surge of anger at these peasants. Who were they to spread rumors? If they had been there, if they'd seen the blood –

"Do you know anything about this?"

It took him a moment to realize Regina was asking him and not the guard. "No," he replied tersely. "Why would I know anything about this?"

"They had to get this idea from somewhere."

Graham stared. "So you think they got it from me?"

"I know that things haven't always been…easy between us," Regina began. She reached for him, but Graham pulled back. She frowned. "This close to the anniversary, it can't be a coincidence. Someone wanted to stir the pot. Someone who wants to hurt me."

"That's a long list of people," he muttered.

"Silence!" Regina snapped, striking him across the cheek with such force that he toppled out of his chair. Graham refused to give her the satisfaction of reacting. He slowly got to his feet and turned to leave.

"Wait! Don't go." She grabbed his arm and spun him around. "I'm sorry, darling, I didn't mean to hurt you. Oh, Graham," Regina continued softly, catching sight of his cheek. She raised her other hand and waved it over the wound; he felt it heal instantly. "There, that's better."

He didn't reply, but didn't draw back either, not wanting to be hit again. Healing the physical wounds only made the emotional ones worse.

"I didn't say anything to anyone," he said finally. "I wouldn't do that."

To them, he didn't add. He wouldn't insult their memory by making stories about some miraculous survival. The only thing worse than watching them die would be entertaining the idea that one had survived, only to have that flame of hope extinguished, just like everything else.

"Oh, of course you wouldn't," Regina said, brushing his chin again. "I know you'd never hurt me. I'm sorry I thought otherwise. I just – you know how this time of year is. Anything could happen, and these rumors are just so dangerous. What if they decide to act on the rumors and invade the castle? What if something happened to you?" She pulled him into a hug. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Graham swallowed back the lump rising in his throat. He knew she didn't really care about him, and it was delusional to think otherwise. But whenever she pretended to care, he was reminded, however unwillingly, of the first person he'd known who'd ever truly cared about him.

It had been ten years since he'd seen her. And he had no idea what he was doing without her, either.


He waited until she went to bed before creeping into the boy's room. It wasn't that he expected her to join them, but he preferred being left alone. Though he lived in the castle, he'd seen her only rarely, and he wanted to keep it that way.

She might have been asleep, but the boy wasn't. The fire was going, and the boy was sitting with his dog, his back to the door. He smiled to himself; this would be fun.

"Miss me?"

He always knew the exact moment someone recognized him, that precise point in time where it clicked, and everything related to their last meeting came rushing back. He saw it now, in the way the boy's expression darkened, the way his eyes flashed. "You!"

Rumpelstiltskin giggled. "Me!"

"What are you doing here?" Graham jumped to his feet. "Get out!"

"Now, wait a minute, dearie, what's all this anger?" he protested. "I would have thought you'd want to see me after what you heard earlier."

"You think I want to see you now?" Graham yelled. "Where were you then? Where were you all those times I tried to find you, all those times I demanded to see you?"

"I don't know about these demands," he said lightly, sitting down on the floor and crossing his legs. "I always come when called." He grinned. "You just have to know my name."

"I don't care about your name," Graham said angrily. "I don't even care about you anymore. I want nothing to do with you. You knew what was going to happen, and you just let her kill them. You could have saved them. That bean could have saved all of them."

It was all coming back now, he could tell. The thoughts, the emotions the boy had bottled up for so long. He couldn't rant and rave at Regina, and wouldn't at his innocent dog, so now all the anger was directed at him. But he was used to accepting the angry outbursts of others; it was so common, he was more amused than anything else.

Besides, in this case, it wasn't undeserved.

"Isn't it easy to talk about saving if you're not the one doing it?" Rumpelstiltskin pressed the tips of his long fingers together. "But I did my best. Two of three isn't bad."

"Two of three is terrible!" Graham snapped. "That's two more people dead."

"Who said anything about dead? Two of three were saved."

Graham blinked. "Saved?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

"But that – the only way that could be true is if–"

"–is if the rumors are correct, yes," Rumpelstiltskin finished, barely suppressing a giggle. "Indeed."

He saw the boy's expression change, that flicker of hope behind troubled eyes. It was probably the only good news he'd heard in nearly ten years. He'd been counting on that. Rumpelstiltskin smiled to himself. He could always recognize a desperate soul.

"But if Charming's alive, why hasn't he come back?" Graham muttered. "Why won't he – why can't he fight for us?"

"For us?" Rumpelstiltskin exclaimed. "Who said you were important enough to fight for, to die for? Why should he fight for anyone anymore?"

Graham fell silent, and he knew what the boy was thinking. The boy knew Charming, perhaps even better than he did. He'd grown up watching the king, the way he was with his wife, his daughter. The way he took care of his kingdom. And he'd been there to see the moment when the king lost everything.

Well, almost everything.

"Where is she?"

"Hm?" Rumpelstiltskin touched his ear. "Speak up, dearie. My hearing's not what it used to be?"

"Where is she?" Graham repeated. "Where's Emma?"

"How should I know?" he asked. "You're the one who opened the portal. Where did you send her?"

"What do you mean? I sent her wherever the bean goes."

He laughed. "Wherever the bean goes?" he repeated. "Well, that's wherever you wanted her to go. Tell me, what did you think when you opened the portal? Which world did you send her to?"

The boy bit his lip. "I wanted her to be safe. I was thinking that she should be in a world without the Evil Queen–"

"A world without the Evil Queen?" he cackled. "You do realize, dearie, that would be precisely all of them?"

"All of them?"

"Except this one, of course." He giggled again, despite Graham's darkening expression. "So, you opened a portal and sent the princess to a world other than this one? Maybe next time, try being more specific."

"Maybe next time, you should give clearer directions!" he retorted.

He shrugged. "I did what I could, dearie. Look," he continued, getting to his feet and circling around Graham. "Is she really that important? You have the king; why do you need her?"

It couldn't be done without Emma; of course, he knew that. Charming had had ten years to reclaim the throne and obviously wouldn't fight unless he had something to fight for. Surely the boy knew all this. But he wondered if the boy would say it, the other thing, the reason he needed her that wasn't just for the king's sake; he wondered if he could admit to those feelings that he'd been holding inside for so long now.

"He won't fight without her," Graham said finally. "She brings him hope."

He clapped his hands together. "In that case, only one thing left to do. You need to find her."

"Me?"

"Yes, you," he replied. "You're the one that lost her, so now you're going to have to find her."

"But, how–"

"Enough talking!" He waved his hand, muting the boy. "My turn to talk; your turn to listen. I have something for you, something that you can use to find her. Do you want to know what it is?" When Graham still hadn't answered, he added impatiently, "You can just nod or shake your head, dearie."

He waited until the boy nodded before going on. "The fastest way to get from one world to another is to open a portal using one of these." He pulled out a small bundle and unwrapped it. "I'm sure you recognize them," he said, showing Graham the beans. "And now that you know how to use them, you should be able to find her easily. Well – somewhat easily," he added, snickering. "Unfortunately for you, you can't just say 'Take me to Emma!' since that happens to be a very common name in all the worlds."

The boy glared and pointed to his throat. Rumpelstiltskin sighed and waved his hand again.

"You know that's an impossible task," Graham protested. "How am I supposed to find her with these? I can't just go gallivanting off into these other realms. Surely they're as big as this one; they'll take a long time to search. What if she notices I'm gone?"

"You'll just have to be careful then, won't you?"

He shook his head. "There must be a better way of doing this. You know magic; why can't you find her?"

"All magic comes with a price!" Rumpelstiltskin intoned. "You can't just use it to suit your every whim."

"But if you could use it to find her–"

"Who said we weren't using it to find her?" Rumpelstiltskin reached into his robes and pulled out the small, decorated box. "Do you recognize this?"

Graham frowned. "No, should I?"

"Pretty jewelry box, isn't it?" he remarked, tossing it to the boy. "It belonged to her. And since I put a spell on it, all of you have to do is show up with it in a realm. If she's there, the box will glow; if she's not, then it won't. Simple as that."

The boy turned the delicate box over with his fingers, examining the pattern. "Jewelry box?" he murmured. "Are you sure that's all this is?"

"What else could it be?" he asked impatiently. "Whatever it is, it was hers, which means the locator spell will work."

He watched as Graham continued to run his fingers over the intricate pattern. He knew this feeling well, that feeling of anticipation as he waited for someone to make a pivotal decision. He could practically see the wheels turning in the boy's head. The box and the beans were key to finding Emma. Finding Emma was key to getting Charming to fight. And getting Charming to fight was the only way to defeat the Evil Queen, once and for all.

The boy stopped tracing the pattern and looked up. "You said all magic comes with a price," he said slowly. "What do you want for this?"

"Oh, nothing," he answered gleefully. When the boy continued to stare at him questioningly, he grinned and added, "Let's just say – I'm invested in your future."


A/N: Thanks for reading. Please feed my muse with a review!