Chapter Ten—"Wrong or Right"

Somehow, Belle had convinced Rumplestiltskin to go to Granny's for lunch. He'd been a ball of nerves the entire time, but Belle had rightly pointed out that she wanted to give Ruby a hug and that he needed to prove to people that he wasn't the one who had killed Granny. Rumplestiltskin didn't mention that he already had his suspicions concerning who was guilty of that particular murder; if Belle hadn't put the pieces together already, he would have been very surprised. Still, no one else in the diner seemed to have realized what was going on, and if the looks they threw his way were hostile, well, he was rather used to that. At least no one attacked them, and Rumplestiltskin got through the meal without spilling anything on Belle.

"I think that went pretty well," his wife said optimistically as they headed towards the shop, walking slowly on the sidewalk arm in arm. Of course she had to walk to his left again, since his right hand was more than occupied with his cane, but Rumplestiltskin treasured the closeness all the same.

Grumpy—who seemed to be working part-time at the diner and keeping an eye on Ruby the rest of the time—had flat out asked Belle why she was with someone who had lied to her so many times. She had turned heads when she'd pointed out that the Dark One had told those lies, and Rumplestiltskin was no longer the Dark One. While he wasn't sure he deserved that much credit, Rumplestiltskin had been grateful for the support. It was also interesting to see people giving him speculative looks, as if they were wondering exactly what he was now. Unfortunately, I'm wondering the same thing, he thought wryly, but still managed to put on a slight smile for his wife.

"As well as can be expected, anyway," Rumplestiltskin allowed.

"Give them time. Once they realize that the monster was the Dark One, not you, they'll come around," Belle smiled.

"I think you're too optimistic, sweetheart."

Her eyes twinkled. "One of us had to be."

"Well, I suppose—"

"Hey, Belle!" Grumpy's voice shouted from behind them, and Rumplestiltskin stopped reluctantly as Belle turned to face the dwarf she'd befriended so many years ago. Grumpy—or Leroy, here in Storybrooke—had never liked Rumplestiltskin, but he still had convinced the Blue Fairy to work up a memory potion for Lacey. Rumplestiltskin might not have been fond of the dwarf, but that had been a favor he would never forget.

"Please tell me you're not going to lecture me on my choices," Belle started bluntly. "I'm fine, and this is my choice."

"I get it, sister. I might not be your husband's biggest fan, but your life is your life. I ain't gonna get in your way when you know what you want," was the dwarf's surprising response. "This isn't about that."

"Sorry," Belle replied, sounding abashed. "I just…I'm sick of hearing it."

"I gotcha," Grumpy nodded. "But what I wanted to talk about is Ruby. I know you're busy and all, but can you help us keep an eye on her? She's taking all this hard. Tink's staying with her, but maybe you can take her out from time to time, get her away. Granny was her only family, and Snow's distracted by what happened to Emma, so we're all trying to help out."

"Of course I will," she replied immediately. "I'll drop by tomorrow and see if I can't drag her shopping or something. Will that work?"

"Yeah. I'll get Ella to help make sure the diner's covered, and worst case the boys'll help out, too. Thanks, Belle."

"Anytime," she said with that glowing smile that Rumplestiltskin knew could turn any man's head—except, perhaps, a dwarf with a True Love of his own. Grumpy nodded, but any response he might have made was cut off by someone screaming.

Whirling around, Rumplestiltskin spotted the last person in the world who he wanted to see staggering down the street, her eyes glassy and red hair tangled and windswept. The simple dress Zelena was wearing was torn at one shoulder, and her face was deathly pale and blank as she wandered a seemingly aimless zig zag pattern. Three people jumped out of her way, looking like they weren't sure if she had the plague or might curse them—but Rumplestiltskin froze.

"You know, there's a time I would have relished this," she'd whispered, leaning over him and pinching the oxygen tube shut as he struggled for air that wouldn't come. "And with your vendetta against me for the death of your son…"

She'd always enjoyed hurting him, though. Rumplestiltskin hadn't been surprised in that hospital bed; just terrified. Even though it felt like a lifetime had passed since she'd controlled him, it had really been less than three months, even including his time in New York. And he'd never forget that sadistic smile.

"I'm going to give you a choice on how you want to live out the rest of this time. One choice is screaming agony. The other is much more pleasant. Choose well, doll."

"Rumple?" Belle's voice cut through the nightmare he'd lived through, and Rumplestiltskin twitched, blinking hard. "Are you all right?"

Grumpy was gone, he noticed, having rushed towards Zelena while Rumplestiltskin was stuck in his own memories. Even as he watched the dwarf reach the Wicked Witch's side, Zelena collapsed, clearly unconscious. Is dead too much to ask for? Trying to kill her was one decision he would never regret. No matter how pure his heart supposedly was now, Rumplestiltskin would only be sorry that he'd not done the job well enough. It would have saved us all a lot of trouble.

"Rumple!"

"I'm all right," he whispered shakily. "Just…remembering."

He couldn't believe he'd let that much emotion show; when he'd finally been freed, Rumplestiltskin had been determined to pretend it had never happened, to be happy and be there for Belle. He had thought that if he hid the pain well enough, eventually he could make himself better, but now here he was, trying not to tremble just from looking at the infernal woman. Closing his eyes and forcing in a deep breath helped steady him a little, but it was really the way that Belle squeezed his arm that brought Rumplestiltskin back to center.

"She can't hurt you now," Belle whispered, thankfully too quietly for anyone else to hear. "I think she's unconscious."

"Hey, Clark, go grab my van, will you?" Grumpy said before Rumplestiltskin could reply. "Someone needs to take Crazy Green here back to the asylum, and I'm sure as hell not gonna carry her."

"Power…drained…" Zelena muttered, and despite his fears, Rumplestiltskin found himself taking a few steps forward to hear better. She was clawing at the leather cuff on her wrist—which he was beyond happy to see was still there—eyes rolling around wildly and unfocused. "Need it. Bring the cloud…back."

"Cloud?" Belle mused aloud, still at his side. "What's she talking about, Rumple?"

"I have no idea."

"There was a giant golden cloud of…something," Michael Tillman stepped forward to volunteer. "It seemed to spit her out right down the street. I saw it, and then it climbed up into the skies and kind of vanished." He shrugged. "It looked like magic of some sort."

Wide blue eyes turned to him, and Rumplestiltskin felt Belle's hands tighten on protectively his arm. "Do you think that's her doing?"

"I don't think so." Stretching out with senses and power he no longer had was giving Rumplestiltskin a headache, but he did still possess an encyclopedic knowledge of magic. And apparently an affinity for it, he realized, because he could feel something surrounding Zelena, just not in the detail he would have been able to before. Letting out the breath he hadn't known he was holding, Rumplestiltskin opened his mind to the magic he knew existed, and finally felt tiny hints of it finding him in return.

Zelena was still mumbling incoherently, even though Grumpy had yanked her hand away from the cuff. She seemed harmless enough at the moment, and certainly couldn't pick him out from the crowd, so Rumplestiltskin dared limp another few steps forward. Relax and let it come, he told himself, and after a few seconds, was rewarded by more information. He could almost see the residual tendrils of magic in the air if he squinted just right, even if doing so gave him a terrible headache. Still, there was something different about that magic, something Rumplestiltskin couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Got an expert opinion, Gold?" Grumpy asked, sounding surprisingly sociable.

Rumplestiltskin blinked. "I'm not sure what it is," he admitted. "Whatever this magic is, however, it's unlike anything that has ever come to Storybrooke before."

"That's great," the dwarf grumbled. "Did a new Villain of the Week come to visit?"

Why were they looking at him like he had the answer to that one? But the entire crowd was, and for a moment, Rumplestiltskin just wanted to crawl into a corner and hide. He didn't want them to look at him like this. He didn't want them to notice him at all. I will not be that man, he told himself firmly. I can't. If I show fear now, I'll never stop.

"I'm afraid I'm no longer on the Villain of the Week mailing list," he forced himself to reply dryly, and was surprised when Grumpy snorted with laughter.

"What, did they kick you out of the union?"

His own chuckle surprised Rumplestiltskin. "It appears so," he managed after a moment, watching as two other dwarves loaded Zelena into the back of Grumpy's van. They took her back to the asylum without a further word, freeing Rumplestiltskin and Belle to return to the shop and do some research.

He had a book to read, after all. The giant tome had snapped shut when Regina had tried to take it away, making the former Evil Queen grumble and leave the book behind. For his part, Rumplestiltskin was terribly curious about how that had come about—particularly since it was obvious that the book had belonged to Merlin. Given how good the odds were that whatever had attacked Zelena had come from Camelot, Rumplestiltskin figured that he needed to start reading quickly. He had never heard of anything that would hit someone as powerful as Zelena that hard, but he was certainly interested in finding out what had.

Killian had palmed a locator potion when they'd been in the shop two days earlier, and he didn't regret it. He could apologize to Belle later, but as far as he was concerned, the Crocodile owed them this much. That bastard had let Emma take on his curse, and no matter what anyone else said, Killian couldn't help hating him for it. Emma had been good before that; she'd taken on that horrible darkness to save everyone else, while Rumplestiltskin swanned around with Belle on his arm like he wasn't the same villain that had tried to consign them all to a living hell just a week earlier.

But that didn't matter. Emma did, so Killian grabbed her red leather jacket out of the loft and poured the potion over it. He wound up following the floating jacket into a residential area of town, all the while trying to figure out what in the world Emma would be doing there. None of her family lived anywhere near this street, and when the jacket headed up the front walk, Killian started to worry. But he still opened the gate set into the white picket fence, following the jacket and trying not to swallow too hard. What could Emma be doing here? Who lived in this blue and white house?

Glancing at the exterior didn't help; there was no name on the box that held mail, nor even a number next to the door. The blinds were drawn, and the house seemed quiet. Killian hadn't seen Emma since he and Henry returned from Camelot three days earlier, and he wasn't sure what to expect. Then she'd seemed torn between fury and a desperate need for love—something in her eyes had called out for him desperately, and Killian had been a fool and had asked for the dagger instead of being there for her. I won't do that again, he promised himself, taking a deep breath and resolving to face whatever Emma had done. It isn't her fault. She just needs help.

The door swung open before he could knock, and suddenly there was Emma, dressed all in black and with her hair back in a severe bun. Hazel eyes burned into his.

"Killian," she purred. "I was hoping it would be you."

"You were?" he blurted out before he could catch himself. He was usually suave with women—even with Emma—but Killian had a hard time focusing beyond the beautiful face in front of him. She was dressed differently than he was used to, but Killian couldn't care. She was Emma, and that was all that mattered.

"I wanted to apologize," Emma said, wearing a slight smirk that somehow sent his heart to racing. "I should have trusted you before. I know you would never try to use the dagger against me."

"Never," he promised immediately, glad that they were at least getting this issue into the air immediately. "I shouldn't have said what I did, either, love. We're just all worried for you."

"Don't be." Her smile was inviting. "Come in. Stay with me."

"Stay—?" Killian barely got the word out before Emma reached out and grabbed him by the belt with one hand, dragging him through the door. A wave of her other hand closed the door behind him, and suddenly her lips were on his.

She tasted like fire and dark magic, different from how Emma should have been, but Killian didn't pull away when her arms snaked around his neck. Instead, he pulled her close and poured every bit of love and devotion he felt for her into his kiss, hoping against hope that this would be enough. He knew Emma Swan, and he knew she was there underneath the demon that was trying to rule her. Killian had seen the darkness she invited into herself, but he knew the real woman. He knew her and he loved her, so he kissed her with his entire soul, willing the light back to the surface.

It had to work. Emma kissed him back hungrily, sighing contentedly against his lips, her hands sliding into his hair and her body pressed closely against his. Holding her like this was heaven. No darkness, no matter how powerful, could withstand a kiss like this. It's working, Killian told himself as he pulled back, gasping for air and searching Emma's eyes.

She kissed him again before he could say a word, slamming Killian back against the wall. But he didn't argue, or at least not until his body's urgent demand for air made him withdraw slightly, still holding onto Emma tightly. Eyes gleaming, she cocked her head at him. "Are you looking for something?"

"Emma?" Killian whispered, hope making his chest tight.

"I'm still right here." Again, that smirk, the one that the old Emma would have accompanied with that beautiful light in her eyes—but from this Emma, it was dangerous. Dangerous and intoxicating.

Not playful. Not light. Not Emma. There was something else at home.

"Of course you are," he replied, forcing a smile and trying to cover his disappointment. But Emma noticed, of course.

"Were you trying to break my curse?" she laughed suddenly, pulling away from him. Hazel eyes narrowed briefly, and Killian thought the temperature in the room dropped twenty degrees in the space of a second. "Well?"

Swallowing hard, he knew he couldn't lie. "I just want you back," he whispered.

"But you have me," Emma replied, stepping forward again and pressing her hands against his chest. "And maybe this is how I was meant to be. My parents took my darkness from me and left me incomplete. Now I'm not."

"This isn't you," Killian pleaded.

"It is now. Get used to it, or get out."

That hit him hard, and Killian knew that a better man would be able to resist the siren call of the seductive smile she gave him after Emma snapped those words at him. A true hero would have told her that he couldn't love someone who hurt others, that he couldn't stand by her as long as she killed people like Granny. But Killian Jones had been a villain. He knew how seductive the darkness was. Unlike Snow, who seemed to believe that Emma wouldn't succumb at all, he was capable of recognizing what had happened. Emma was reveling in the darkness now. It was new and it was beautiful, and she felt like she could do anything.

He remembered that freedom all too well, the amazing feeling of casting off all responsibility and just being as bad as you could be. Embracing darkness was easy and it was alluring, because the burden of being good just got too heavy sometimes. He knew that Emma sometimes took being the Savior too seriously, and a part of him wondered if her actions now were a direct result of having the responsibility for restoring everyone's happy endings thrust upon her. She won't be like this forever, he told himself firmly. Of course she's going to go a little wild. You did the same. She just needs to know that she isn't alone, and that someone will be by her side when she's ready to come back.

That was what love was, wasn't it? It wasn't picking and choosing. It wasn't staying only when the going was good. Love was ugly and unconditional, and Killian loved this woman. Even if she was the Dark One.

"I'll stay," he said, stepping forward so that his face was only inches from hers. "I know all about darkness, love. You don't frighten me."

"I don't want to," Emma said, and the vulnerability that flashed through her eyes told him that the old Emma was still there. Her voice cracked slightly. "I meant what I said, Killian. I love you."

"And I love you, Swan," Killian replied immediately. "Dark or light, Savior or Dark One. I love you."

The third kiss failed to free her, too, though they wound up halfway down the hallway and Killian thought they might have wound up in a bed had he not tripped over a very large cat. Emma caught him before Killian could fall on top of her—which she made look terribly easy, despite how much he outweighed her by—and he looked down, only to be greeted by a incensed hiss.

"What's this doing here?" he asked before he could stop himself, belatedly remembering that he had no idea whose house they'd just been making out in.

"This is Bandit," Emma smiled dangerously, leaning down to pick the tortoiseshell cat up. It really was obscenely large, though lanky and skinny as a rail, mainly black in color except for the red-orange splotches on its coat. The cat hissed at her, too, baring fangs angrily, but Emma only snickered and bopped the cat on the nose with a finger. It growled and looked ready to bite her until Emma's smile turned into a glare, at which point the cat let out a defeated sounding hiss and looked away. She glanced back at Killian before dropping the monster sized feline. "I wanted something to play cat and mouse with."

"You should have bought a mouse, then," he quipped, watching the cat land and slink off. Was it his imagination, or was the cat glaring at him? Definitely just my imagination. It's a cat. Killian had plenty of experience with cats, as they were an excellent way to keep the rats in check on board ship, but this one still struck him as strange.

"Maybe I should have." Her eyes followed the cat for a moment, too, until Emma suddenly swept in to stand inches away from him once more, kissing him hard. "Come upstairs."

"Uh…not that I mind the invitation, but mightn't the owners of this lovely home return while we're, um, engaged?" Killian managed to ask before he utterly lost his mind. Emma had always been one to tease him a little; her flirtations were playful and sometimes hesitant. Now she was coming onto him like a stampeding herd of horses, and while Killian didn't mind, per se, he still found it strange.

"It's my house," she whispered against his lips. "Ours, if you want."

"Emma…" He didn't mean for the words to come out in a growl, but that invitation had sent warmth to all the wrong places.

He was here to help her, not to jump in bed with her. He was here to remind her of who she was, not give into the desire currently raging through his body. Killian had to be better than this—not for his sake, but for hers. There were so many things he wanted to tell her, so many things he needed to say.

"Yes, Killian?" Again, she cocked her head at him, and now her gaze turned a little playful. "Do you not want me?"

"You have no idea how much I want you right now," he said, and his mouth went dry as she started to unfasten her black leather top. Killian almost didn't get the next words out: "But you're not yourself."

"I'm as much myself as I'll ever be." Pausing with her top half open, Emma reached for his belt once more, and Killian couldn't make his hands stop her when she started to unbuckle it. Oh, I could stop her. I just don't want to, he admitted to himself. Emma's eyes bored into his. "And I need you."

Cursing himself for a weak fool, Killian leaned in to kiss her. He needed Emma, too, and maybe he could forget good and evil, just for a little while. This was what she was now, and for better or for worse, he loved her.

Being an adult again was…weird. At first, August hadn't expected the aging up to last, and he'd anticipated becoming Pinocchio again within a few days of the Queens of Darkness going down. But apparently Rumplestiltskin knew his stuff, because here he was, fully adult and not turning into wood. That last bit was undoubtedly the best part of it all, and if someone had told August he would have had to spend a few days as a prisoner to get to be himself again, well, he would have made that deal without hesitation. Even with the pesky wooden nose in the fire parts.

Still, it was hard on his Papa, who had his boy taken away from him yet again. They were still working on their relationship, because Geppetto had never really known August, but there were more good days than bad. At least at home, anyway, August thought, walking into Granny's. He'd taken his old motorcycle out for a spin when Geppetto's apartment had proven too stuffy, and of course he'd found something that defied explanation.

"So," he asked the room at large, leaning up against the counter. "Anyone here commission a castle to be built out in the woods? Because there's a big one growing fast."

"A what?" Grumpy asked from behind the counter, and August shrugged.

"I kid you not. I caught a glimpse of it from my bike, and when I went closer to investigate, I almost discovered the moat the hard way."

"A castle. Are you serious?" Sneezy demanded, and then promptly lived up to his name.

"You really need to see Whale about some antihistamines or something, man," August said. "But yeah, dead serious here. Someone's building a castle out there, and it looks like it's magic."

Grumpy frowned. "Who the hell would do that?"

"Don't we have enough unclaimed real estate around here?" Happy spoke up. "I mean, between the Sorcerer's House and Zelena's creepy farmhouse, hasn't enough stuff shown up?"

"I'd be more worried about the mysterious sorcerer building it," another voice said, and August turned to look at where Lily sat in a booth with her mother. Both human/dragons looked smug and rather pleased with themselves, and part of August really wondered if anyone was ever going to do anything to Maleficent for her role as one of the Queens of Darkness. Probably not, he decided. She did help towards the end, and she's friends with the mayor.

"What mysterious sorcerer?" Sneezy sneezed worriedly.

"I don't know," the young woman shrugged easily. "We saw someone building it earlier, though. From the air."

"That's just great," Grumpy snorted. "Just what this town needs. Some other villain here to make a mess. As if we didn't have enough of one already."

Narrowing his eyes, August watched the mother-daughter pair exchange a glance, and then had to ask: "How do we know you're not involved?"

Maleficent smiled. "You don't, of course," she replied. "But you might consider the fact that I wouldn't waste power on something so foolishly ostentatious when I'm perfectly capable of buying myself a home and already have."

"You know we're gonna check that, don't you?" Grumpy spoke up.

"I'm sure you will." The elder dragon rolled her eyes and rose. "Come, Lily. Let's see if we can't discover something else useful for the foolish heroes to beg us for."

August watched them go, unaware that when they stepped into the street, something else was evaluating the two women, too.

"It could just be the new Dark One," someone else suggested, but August shook his head. Castles weren't Emma's thing any more than they were his. We're more the type to get a mansion than a castle, he thought with some amusement. Kids who'd grown up in the system valued material possessions from this world, not the old one. Modern appliances beat fires in the hearth any day, and who wants to live without heat and air conditioning?

"Hey, Belle," Robin said in surprise. He'd headed out to the camp in the forest to give Regina a little space; he knew that she wasn't happy with what he had said to her, but sometimes love meant saying uncomfortable things. He didn't love Regina any less for what she had done, though it did make him worry for her.

That, and Belle was his friend, which meant he was worried for her, too. Robin would never forget that he owed Belle his life—and Roland's—after she had convinced Rumplestiltskin not to kill him after she'd helped him escape with the wand, and he meant to make good on that debt in any way he could. She deserves better than being used as a pawn, Robin thought fiercely. I know how that feels, and I won't have it happen to anyone on my account.

"Have you seen Will?" Belle said right away, shocking him for a second time. Judging from the fact that Belle seemed to be back with her husband, Will was the last person he would have expected her to be asking about.

"Um, no. Is there—is everything all right?" he inquired as delicately as he could. Robin wasn't the most subtle man, but if Belle was asking after her sometime boyfriend…

"Everything's fine. He was just supposed to come by. Rumple and I were going to help him try to find a way back to Wonderland, but Will never showed. He's not answering his phone, either."

Robin blinked. "He did call me a little while earlier, but he wasn't there when I answered. I thought that was a little strange, but I understand that people in this world call it 'butt-dialing' when that happens."

"I've heard the phrase, yes," Belle laughed. "Just tell him that Rumple found what might be a way back if you see him, all right?"

"You bet," Robin promised, and they hung up. On a whim, he dialed Will's number again, but after four rings, the voicemail kicked on.

"You've reached Will Scarlet. If I'm not answering me phone, I'm probably in a bloody ditch somewhere passed out drink. Leave me a message an' I might get back to you when I'm sober. If I like you enough. Otherwise, piss off."

Frowning, Robin hit the end call button and stared at the phone for a long moment. There could be a hundred and one reasons why Will didn't want to answer his phone at the moment, but the hairs on the back of Robin's neck were starting to stand up. He didn't believe in coincidences, and Will had been the one person who had actually seen Granny's murder.

What if Emma knows? The mere thought made him shiver. We haven't told many people, but her mother is emotional enough to confront her with it, or she might have found out dozen other ways. But if Emma knew, Will was in danger. Grave danger. And Robin wasn't about to let a friend get hurt, so his next call was to the only sheriff Storybrooke had left.

After four hours of searching, they found Will's cell phone near the Merry Men's campsite. Snow was actually the one who found it when they doubled back in that direction again, and they would have missed it completely if the phone hadn't started beeping a low battery alert.

"David!" she called, and he jogged over to join her. They'd split up: Robin and Regina had gone one way after a few locator spells had inexplicably failed, and he and Snow had gone yet another. Hook wasn't answering his phone, either, so they didn't have his help, and David had been hesitant to call in anyone else who didn't know exactly why they were concerned for Will's safety. Snow held the phone out to him. "I think this is his."

Will didn't seem to have a code for his lock screen, which meant David was able to open up the dialer easily enough. The last call received was from Robin, so David called that number.

"Will?" Robin answered on the first ring. "Mate, we've been worried sick over you. Why didn't you—"

"It's David," he cut in as quickly as he could. "We just found Will's phone, but no Will."

"Damn." A long silence fell on the other end before Robin sighed and added: "Regina's teleporting us to you. We'll be there in a moment."

Hanging up, David turned to Snow, who gave him an equally helpless look. They both knew what Robin was going to say, even if neither wanted to speak the words out loud. Silently, David reached out to take his wife's hand, squeezing it hard as Regina and Robin appeared in a cloud of purple smoke that barely stood out from the early evening gloom.

"We didn't find anything, either," Regina said by way of greeting, crossing her arms irritably. "My locator spells keep running in circles like there's no one to find."

"There's an easy explanation for that," Robin added immediately, his voice hard. "And it isn't because he left Storybrooke for no reason at all."

"I know what you're trying to say, but there's no evidence that it was Emma," Snow countered immediately. "Anything could have happened."

"And I could grow a second head right now, though it's not terribly likely," the outlaw retorted, making Snow flinch.

David squeezed her hand again. "We can't assign blame without evidence," he said as calmly as he could. "I know what it looks like, but as Snow said, there's no evidence at all."

"I don't believe in coincidences. Will told us he saw Granny die, and now he's gone," Robin replied. "You can't tell me that doesn't make you uneasy."

"It does," David admitted, swallowing. "But we can't condemn Emma without evidence. Even with what happened to Granny—especially because of that—we can't assume she's guilty."

"Then let's ask her," the outlaw replied, making the other three turn to stare at him. "Let's bloody ask Emma demand she tell us the truth."

No one seemed to know what to say, until Regina turned to her lover and said gently: "There's no guarantee that she will. None of us know how that darkness has affected her. She's hidden herself away for a good reason, and I expect it's because she doesn't want to hurt anyone else."

"That didn't exactly help Will!"

"Robin…" Regina looked torn, and David could understand why. She loved Robin, but Emma was her friend, too. And Regina was family, even if her relationship with them was strange at times.

"No, he's right," David said, sighing. "At least in part. We need to get through to Emma, to help her. We've been trying to give her space, to let her find herself…but we can't afford to do that anymore. We have to find her and help her."

"That's why we can't let anyone know what happened," Snow whispered suddenly. "If everyone knows…they'll want to kill Emma. Or worse."

Three heads whipped around to stare at Snow, and David felt his heart sink. He knew she was right, but listening to Snow say such a thing, for her to give up some of her cherished belief in justice, hurt more than words could express.

"Finally," Regina breathed, clearly sharing none of David's moral compunctions.

"Will and Granny deserve better than that," Robin objected, but he looked a little defeated already.

"They do," Snow agreed. "But this isn't Emma. This is the darkness inside her. The best way to protect everyone isn't to let the town hurt Emma. It's to get that darkness out of her once and for all, and for that to work, she needs our help. Not us putting her in a cage."

Robin sighed, glancing down at the phone David still held in his hand. "I can't argue that's a good end goal, but what if she keeps killing?"

"Then we stop her," Regina answered. "Whatever it takes, and however we have to. In the meantime, we can blame Granny's death on Zelena if anyone asks."

"And Will?"

"Will, too," the former Evil Queen confirmed. "Zelena has committed plenty of crimes, and she's already locked away. She got out earlier; we can say she did it twice. Editing the security footage will be easy enough."

"This isn't right," Robin whispered.

"No, it isn't," David agreed, letting out a painful breath. He had to close his eyes for a moment, hating himself for what he was about to say. Snow clung to his hand and he clung back. They stood at the edge of a precipice, looking down into the deep chasm of darkness that had claimed their daughter, and both knew that they would never be the same again. We've tried so hard to be heroes, David thought. But now we're just going to do whatever it takes to save our child…and everyone else with her. He cleared his throat and made himself continue: "But it's the only choice we have if we're ever going to bring her back. We can't make you agree, Robin, but we can beg you for your help. Please."

"Well, it's not like I've never gone outside the law to try to help others," Robin replied, looking down at the ground. Then he looked up, his face a mess of hurt. "But it's the first time I've ever betrayed a friend to do it. I hope she's worth it. Truly, I do."

"So do we," David whispered, feeling the half-heart twinge in his chest.

They were risking everything on the bet that Emma could come back from the darkness, but sooner or later, they would have to decide what else they were willing to give up to make that happened. David only hoped that they could save his daughter before the price became too high to pay.

Author's Note: Stay tuned for Chapter Eleven—" They Have the Might", where Emma decides she wants to start talking to her family again, Belle and Rumplestiltskin read Merlin's book, Regina tries to do the right thing, and Merlin's power reaches out once more.

On another note, assuming I can get ROC11 done in time, look for it on Tuesday!