Chapter Twenty-Six

Neal was done feeding and Snow rested him against her chest, his head over her shoulder, and patted his back gently to burp him. "I hope this is the right thing," she murmured.

David smiled. "According to the baby book, it should be," he said. "Give it a minute or two."

"No," Snow sighed. "About Rumpelstiltskin. Are we doing the right thing by going ahead with the hearing after last night? Did we let him off too easily? Should we have—?"

David matched her sigh with one of his own. "I've been thinking about that myself," he admitted. "But, here's the thing. Whatever it was he almost did to Zelena last night… in the end, he didn't do it. And he didn't stop because we grabbed his dagger or someone hit him with a spell or some squid ink or… whatever. He stopped because Emma was able to talk him down." He shook his head. "I saw that cage in Zelena's cellar. It was about the same size as the one he was in, back in his castle. To be confined like that for weeks… months, even? I'm not sure that if it had been me, I wouldn't have wanted to see my captor in similar circumstances."

"David…"

He circled behind her to smile at the baby. "All I'm saying is that, for the first time in… well, ever, I don't believe that he was playing games with us. He didn't make excuses. He didn't take that 'out' you offered with the glamor spell. And I honestly think that he was more remorseful about nearly violating his oath than regretful about being caught." He took a breath. "Which is probably a first." He exhaled loudly. "I think Emma's been right about him. Add up all the ways he's been helping us for the last little while and it's pretty clear that he has been trying to change. And for the most part, he's been succeeding. Looked at in that light, last night might have been a misstep, but it wasn't an unforgivable one. And," he moved back in front of his wife, sat down, and looked deep into her eyes, "if Gold's managed to climb this far out of Darkness on his own, if he's really trying to turn over a new leaf and we're taking him to task because he thought he was ready for something he wasn't and he still managed to hold back until someone else could talk him down… Granted, he never should have been down there in the first place, but we can't come down on him as harshly as we would if he'd actually gone through with killing her. He had her at his mercy and he backed down. That has to count for something."

Snow nodded. The baby burped.

Gold was still clutching the envelope tightly in his hand when he transported himself into the basement of his house. He hadn't been down here since before they'd left for Neverland. Over a year ago. Over a lifetime ago, both literally and figuratively. The place was just as he'd left it: flasks, bottles, and laboratory equipment on a long table, and one wall lined with three units of ceiling-to-floor shelves. One such unit was filled with magical ingredients and other spell components, another with potions and powders, and a third—more of a honeycomb than a unit of shelves—with rolled and ribbon-tied scrolls. And in the center of the room, the spinning wheel that had been one of the few objects he'd taken with him when he'd finally forsaken his village for his dark castle.

The great wheel had come over in the First Curse, though at the time, with no recollection of his true self, he'd thought it a mere antique to be restored before he could put it out for sale in the shop. It had never left his basement. With his limp, carrying it up the stairs would have been difficult and he'd told himself that the piece would be too fragile to risk moving—even with a professional crew to do the labor—particularly since he doubted that he'd find a buyer for it. And it would have taken up too much space in the shop. He supposed that, despite the curse, despite his false memories, he simply hadn't wanted to part with it. He could still recall deciding to test the wheel to ensure that it was still useable. Even under the curse, he'd found spinning to be a relaxing hobby—though, of course, he'd spun fleece into yarn, not straw into gold then. After everything that had happened recently, he needed to relax. Smiling, he drew near to the spinning wheel…

…And with every step he took, his smile shrank. He seemed to hear musical mocking laughter. Spin, Rumple, if it clears your mind. I need it in fine working order… along with the rest of your beautiful brain. There was a basket of straw, gleaming pale under the fluorescent lights. He started to reach for it, but his hand froze. Spin faster, dearie! Chop, chop! With mounting horror, he stepped back so quickly that he nearly stumbled. No. No, no, no, this was supposed to be his respite, his coping method… He couldn't let her take it from him! He gazed fully on the spinning wheel and shuddered as he again felt an iron fetter dig into his ankle.

With an angry cry, he gestured forcefully at the wheel and it disintegrated into a pile of dust. As it did, he felt a sharp stabbing pain in his chest. What had he done? Next to Bae's cloak, that wheel was the closest thing he had to a family heirloom. And he'd destroyed it. Just like he destroyed everything else of value in his life, sooner or later. Bellowing incoherently, he ran to the table and pushed against it, overturning it. Flasks, beakers, and test tubes spilled off and shattered on the cement floor. He wasn't done, yet. He needed to break something else. Some vestige of reason held him back from attacking the shelves. If he destroyed any of those items, he might never be able to replace them. Instead he raced upstairs.

There was a fireplace in his study, one he seldom used, but he kindled it now. His eye fell on one of the shelves of the entertainment center. Stacks of old National Geographic magazines seemed to look back at him, their yellow spines bright. He swept them to the floor and began kicking them toward the fireplace. His foot came down on one of them and he stumbled and fell heavily to the ground.

For a moment or two, he lay there, catching his breath. The carpet of magazines wasn't particularly comfortable, but he'd rested on far worse and recently. A quick mental assessment told him that he wasn't really hurt. He wasn't certain he'd even given himself a paper cut. With a groan, he pushed himself up, trying to stand without shifting the volumes beneath his feet. When he realized that he might have a slight problem, he half-slid, half-crawled over to the desk and braced against it to pull himself up.

His eyes fell on something atop the desk blotter and widened. How had that…? He remembered now: after breakfast with the Nolans yesterday, David had given him back everything of his they'd retrieved from the mines. The camping equipment was in the garage. He'd put away the clothes. And he'd set the loom here on the desk.

A small smile played on his face. Truth be told, it wasn't much of a loom. It was a toy for a hobbyist, suitable for small projects like scarves and hatbands, not the wide bolts of woolen cloth he'd woven back in his peasant days. But when he reached out to touch it, there was no mocking voice shrilling commands in his ear, no memories of reaching for straw after straw until he could barely feel his fingers anymore, no spiteful clink of iron chain.

It wasn't as though he needed a large project to keep himself occupied. Perhaps, starting small was exactly what he ought to be doing. He moved around behind the desk, sat down, and pulled the loom closer. He wasn't sure what had happened to the piece he'd started down in the mines, but that hadn't been a real project, so much as it had been a way of testing out this new style of loom and learning how it differed from the varieties he was used to.

The plastic Wal-Mart bag was on a corner of the desk, filled with the hanks and skeins of yarn that Emma had chosen. He suspected she'd probably selected one of each offering, and while little of it was of high quality, there were several rainbows' worth of colors. Thoughtfully, he chose a rich purple skein and slid off the paper wrapper. The smile on his face grew slightly broader. Given the dimensions of the loom, he doubted that a single piece of fabric would be wide enough. He'd need two—perhaps even three. But he still had several debts to pay. And a blanket for the child who bore his son's name seemed a fitting way to start on them.

He pressed his lips together and began setting up the warp threads.

Leonora crumbled up the bread crusts she'd carefully removed from her sandwich earlier and tossed them out into the ocean. Several harlequin ducks, which had been eying her hopefully from a rocky spur flew after the treat. She grinned. "Just like home."

Henry smiled. "I thought you were excited to be someplace that wasn't like your home."

"I am," Leonora insisted. "But I'm kind of glad that the ducks still act like they're supposed to, instead of… oh, I don't know, turning into princes for an hour every night until someone makes them each a shirt. Oh. Wait." She slapped her forehead lightly. "Those were swans, right?"

"I think so," Henry said. "But sometimes some of the stories play out a little differently. Maybe they were ducks. Still, most of the animals who came over from the Enchanted Forest became people once they got here. Like Dr. Hopper, for example."

Leonora sighed. "I get that most people probably wouldn't want me running up to them and asking about it. I mean, I know I'm annoying sometimes, but I'm not that annoying. And," she sighed, "I guess I know how I'd feel if someone showed up in Passamaquoddy and kept asking about Elliott and how much the movie got right. But I'm still curious."

"I think I can help with that," Henry ventured. He shrugged out of his backpack and unzipped it. "See, a while back, Mrs. Nolan gave me this book. Well, back then, she was Ms Blanchard. And I didn't know she was Snow White."

"Or Emma's mother?" Leonora asked.

"Yeah. But anyway, this book tells the real stories of the people who came here from the Enchanted Forest. That's most of the people in town. Not everyone… Dr. Whale's really Dr. Frankenstein; he's from a different realm. But… most people."

Leonora reached out tentatively and touched the cover of the book. "Wow." Her face fell. "I wish we weren't going back tomorrow. I'll never finish it by then." She sighed. "And I heard people talking about a hearing?"

Henry nodded. "Now that Zelena's been defeated, we have to figure out what to do with her. Regina wants to give her another chance. Mr. Gold doesn't."

"And what about you?"

Henry sighed. "I think that second chances need to be earned. Or, if not earned, at least there should be some reason to think they'll take." He told her about how Elliott had saved him at the town line.

Leonora's eyes grew huge. "Were you scared?"

"A little," Henry admitted. "I mean, I knew my moms would save me. Or I thought they would; I didn't know Elliott was around. But Zelena did have me pretty high up in the air. And then, she tossed Regina into a tree. So… yeah," he lowered his eyes. "I guess I was pretty scared."

"I guess I probably would've been, too," Leonora said, after a moment. She sighed. "I wish we could stay longer. Now, I'm going to be wondering about the book and wondering about the hearing and…" she sighed again, "probably wondering if you'll ever show up in Passamaquoddy one day, so I could show you around. I guess it'd probably be kind of boring compared to this town… or New York, but we've got a few things worth seeing."

Henry was silent for a moment. Then he pulled out his cell phone and tapped the screen a few times. "Uh…" he ventured, "if you want me to fill you in, I mean after the hearing and all, if you give me your phone number and email, I can tell you about it. I don't know about getting to Passamaquoddy. It seems like there's usually some sort of trouble with the town line that keeps us from leaving. But if that's not an issue, then maybe in the summer, or around Christmas break…"

Leonora took the phone with a grin. "Summer," she said decisively. "There's a lot more going on, then. But we can stay in touch during the year. I mean, if you'd like to."

Henry grinned back.

Pete and Leonora drove back to Passamaquoddy the next day. They presumed that Elliott had flown off, as well—at least, those fishing on the lake noted that they'd caught more bass by noon than they had all weekend. With their departure, preparations for the hearing seemed to move into full swing.

"Don't go for long-winded speeches," Gold cautioned. "They're never welcome." He smiled wryly. "You want to catch and hold everyone's attention. At the same time, overt theatricalities will be summarily shut down."

"Aren't you going to be speaking?" Emma asked.

Gold sighed. "I think, in light of who I am, it would be better you and Belle were to handle that aspect. Keep in mind that even those who might agree with anything I might say are likely to hesitate to side publicly with the Dark One."

Belle shook her head. "It's not right."

"It is what it is," Gold replied. "And we need to acknowledge that such bias will be present and plan our strategy accordingly."

Emma nodded. "Okay. Let's review. We know that Regina wants to give her sister a second chance and her main argument is likely to be that people can change." She took a breath. "And she can point both to herself… and to you as proof."

"And you know the counter-argument for that one," Gold shot back.

Emma nodded again. "I do," she started to say, when Belle spoke up with a worried frown.

"Rumple? If you aren't going to speak… After what Zelena did to you, then…"

Gold shook his head. "How many people in this town do you think will care about that, apart from the two of you and, perhaps, a handful of others? If anything, emphasizing that aspect is likely to hurt our arguments."

"I'm not so sure," Emma replied.

"Because you've managed to prevail on your parents," Gold said, "who mean to recuse themselves from the proceedings, which means that they won't be present and thus, their views on the matter will be nearly incidental." He sighed. "Leave it alone, dearie. Stick to a strategy that might work." He slid the top sheet of paper off the stack before him and turned it over. "Moving along…"

Two hours later, Belle and Emma departed wearily from Gold's house. "I still think," Belle said, "that he needs to speak about what she did."

Emma nodded. "I think he's wrong about how people would react, but… maybe he's not. If we convince him to open up and it turns out he was right all along, then…"

Belle nodded back. They were almost to Gold's front gate, when she stopped in her tracks.

"Belle?"

"Maybe there's another reason," she said slowly. "What if he thinks telling everyone what she did would make him seem… weak? Someone to be pitied, rather than respected? I… I think he'd rather we all hated him than that."

Emma let out a long breath. "You might have something, there. The problem is, I don't see any way we can convince him otherwise. Again, if it turns out he's right…"

Belle nodded and pushed open the gate. When it didn't close behind them, she shoved it back into place with a bit more force than was required. The almost-slam startled them both. "Sorry!" Belle exclaimed. "I was just thinking about how Regina wants to forgive her for everything she's done," she said, with a touch of anger. "It's one thing to forgive what Zelena did to her personally, but she has no right to make that decision for anyone but herself."

"I know," Emma agreed, as they turned and continued walking down the street. "Actually…" she began, as a thought struck her.

"Emma?" Belle asked.

Emma smiled. "I just had an idea. Only it might be a little too… theatrical."

As she explained, Belle started to giggle. "No," she said, shaking her head. "I don't think that's going to be too theatrical at all. But we will need to time it right…"

The Storybrooke Town Hall auditorium had never looked so empty to Emma before. Most of the chairs that had been set out at previous assemblies were stacked against the walls. A large, round conference table occupied the center of the hall, with a number of folding chairs arranged around it. There were also two "show wood" upholstered armchairs, where Snow and Charming sat together. Emma was on her father's left, with Gold next to her. Belle sat on Gold's other side. Next were the dwarfs, and Archie, followed by Phillip and Aurora, Little John, Hook, Robin, and Regina on Snow's right.

Once everyone was seated comfortably, Snow and Charming rose to their feet. At once, everyone followed suit, Emma a trifle more hesitantly. Snow shook her head. "I think we can dispense with that bit of formality here," she remarked, smiling. "Please, be seated." She waited for everyone to obey before she continued. "I would like to thank all of you for coming here today," she said. "We all know the reason for this hearing, so I won't take a lot of time reviewing. We have convened this council in order to obtain your advice in determining what is to be done with Zelena. Ultimately," she covered Charming's hand with her own, "the decision rests with us, but over these next few days, we're soliciting your opinions and advice. With the exception of Dr. Hopper, everyone in this room has been directly affected by Zelena's actions, or has been empowered to speak as proxy for one who has." Emma caught Robin's slight nod and remembered that it had been his son's life that had been threatened when Zelena had sent her monkeys after Regina's heart. "It is our intention to seek a resolution that will be satisfactory to you all. However," her smile faded, "that is something that David and I will leave to you to hammer out. For the time being, we will recuse ourselves from these proceedings. Also," she continued seriously, "before we decided to call this hearing, we had opportunity to hear several opinions as to Zelena's final disposition. Suffice to say that those opinions ranged from a full pardon to summary execution." She took a deep breath. "David and I have discussed this and we've decided that neither extreme is acceptable." She waited for the murmurs to die down. Then she smiled. "We leave it to you to find an option that will be."

David spoke for the first time. "In our absence, Dr. Hopper will moderate these proceedings on our authority. We'll take our leave of you now and wait to hear what you decide. We thank you for your service." He took another breath. "Are there any questions before we depart?"

There were none.

Snow smiled. "Then we'll leave you all to the task." She and David pushed back their chairs. "Oh!" Snow exclaimed. "Lunch will be served at noon and there will be light refreshments at three. I expect that by five or six, most of you will be ready to adjourn. If you decide otherwise, supper can be arranged."

"Hopefully," David added, "this won't take more than a few days, but this is a serious matter and if more time is necessary, it will be provided." He nodded to Archie. "Doctor Hopper, the floor is yours."

They might not have been wearing crowns or ermine robes. Still, as her parents left the hall, Emma once again reflected that even in casual clothing, they were every inch royalty.

At first, Emma thought that she was going to need to wait until lunch to do what she and Belle had discussed. It wasn't that she was impatient to see it play out, but when Regina rose to explain why she believed that giving Zelena a fresh start was warranted, Emma worried that there would be too long a delay between the speech and the demonstration she and Belle intended to make as a counter-argument. Then, in the middle of the speech Doc started coughing uncontrollably and Archie mentioned that there should be some pitchers and glasses in the kitchen adjoining the main hall. Emma caught Belle's eye and nodded slightly. Belle rose to her feet. "I'll get him some water," she volunteered.

"Actually," Archie said, "if you wouldn't mind, maybe bring back a couple of full pitchers? It might be a good idea to have water on the table for anyone who needs it." He glanced at Regina. "Uh… sorry for the interruption, Madame Mayor."

Regina smiled as Belle trotted off. "Not at all," she replied, raising her voice a bit to be heard over Doc's cough. "I'll wait."

Belle returned several minutes later with a stack of plastic disposable cups and two water pitchers on a tray. She glanced at Emma again, and when Emma nodded confirmation, she headed for Doc's seat, walking slowly, so as not to upset the pitchers.

"As I was saying," Regina went on, "nobody is denying that Zelena has done some terrible things in a very short span of time. However, with the right incentive, people can change. Zelena… reminds me a great deal of the person I used to be. I have to believe that if change was possible for me, it's also possible for her. I realize that pardon is not an option. I'm suggesting probation. The good witch of the south told us that without her gemstone, Zelena's powerless. Just in case that turns out to be a temporary situation, I have no problem with having her wear one of Pan's cuffs—as she's been doing thus far—as an added precaution." She smiled self-consciously. "I, for one, am tired of vengeance, tired of retaliation, tired of trying to get in the last blow. Let's give Zelena her second chance. Let her start fresh, now, today—"

"Oh!" Belle exclaimed, as Doc hastily pushed his chair back in an attempt to avoid a quickly-spreading puddle of water. She righted the cup, too late to salvage its contents. "Doc, I… I'm so sorry."

"That's all right, Belle," Emma spoke up. "Accidents happen."

"Thanks," Belle smiled. "Maybe I ought to just serve everyone," she offered, setting a glass down next to Bashful. She poured that one out more carefully. When it was Happy's turn, though, the stream of water hit the edge of the cup and poured out half into the cup and half on the table. "Oh, no!" she groaned.

"Belle," Emma said, "it's fine. Don't worry about it."

Dopey was Belle's next victim, when she poured a bit too quickly and overflowed the cup. Again, Emma reassured her. Out the corner of her eye, she saw Gold frown. She couldn't say she was surprised. He knew that Belle wasn't usually this clumsy. He had to guess that something was up. By the time Belle reached Archie, her hands were shaking. She smiled in relief when she filled the cup without a hitch and then sucked in her breath and covered her face with her hands when her elbow swept the cup off the table and into Archie's lap.

"It's okay," Emma said. "I forgive you."

Regina shot Emma an angry look. "What do you mean," she demanded, "you forgive her? She didn't dump the water in your lap."

Emma blinked. "Well, yeah," she admitted. "But it's not like she did anything major, right? I mean, it's just water. Why make a big deal over it?"

"That's not the point!" Regina snapped, ignoring Archie's murmur that Emma was right and he was fine. "You can't forgive someone for something they didn't do to y—" She broke off suddenly, as realization struck her full-force.

Emma waited a few seconds before she uttered a quiet rejoinder. "Oh."

Belle set the pitchers down on the table and handed the remaining cups to Philip. "Maybe," she suggested to the prince, "you could just take one and pass the other 'round?"

She looked at Regina. "If you don't want to penalize her for taking your heart and trying to kill you, fine. That's your prerogative. But with regard to what she's done to everyone else?" Belle shook her head. "I'm sorry, Regina. You don't get to decide that for the rest of us."

Librarian and mayor locked eyes for a moment, and it was the mayor who looked away first. For a moment, Belle wondered whether she and Emma hadn't gone a bit too far. Despite what she'd told Emma when the subject had come up, she worried that their ploy might have been a bit too stagy for these proceedings. As she turned to walk back to her seat, though, the appreciative smile on Rumple's face told her it hadn't been.

Lunch came and went. There was little conversation during the meal. Emma couldn't help noticing that Aurora and Phillip kept glancing in her and Gold's direction. Finally, they approached. "Rumple… stiltskin," she said softly.

Gold smiled faintly and inclined his head. "So you've found out."

"After you left," Aurora said, "I noticed that the straw you'd spun seemed to be… gold wire."

"Ah."

"It was a bit too soft to use as a lock-pick," the princess added.

"Yes," Gold nodded. "In its pure state, I'm afraid it would be. You've recovered?" he inquired briskly.

Aurora nodded back.

"The child is well?"

Aurora nodded again. "I've arranged childcare for today, though I think I'd rather keep him with me in future." She sighed. "I wish I'd known that wet-nursing wasn't common here before I brought him to the daycare; I'm not certain I trust these," she frowned, "infant formulas."

Gold smiled again. "It's not something I've had occasion to research," he admitted. He gestured to Belle, who was over by the coffee machine. "If you'd like to read up on the topic, I'm certain Belle can point you toward the proper materials."

Aurora took a breath. "I wanted to thank you again for helping me," she said.

Gold blinked. "You're quite welcome," he managed. "Although you're aware I didn't have a choice."

"Actually," Aurora said, "I think we both know that's not entirely true."

"Well," Gold murmured, conceding her point, "it wasn't as though I wanted to spend several hours listening to you screaming."

"Whatever your reasons," the princess smiled, "I'm grateful."

As she and her husband headed off in Belle's direction, Emma turned to him with a frown. "What was that about?" she asked. After hearing his explanation, she shook her head. "You delivered her baby," she repeated. "Okay. That's it."

"I beg your pardon?"

Emma grinned. "You've just lost the right to call yourself a coward. And if you don't believe me, ask any guy here who isn't a medical doctor how they'd react if they had to do what you did."

Before Gold could respond, Archie announced then that they'd resume in two minutes, and Emma excused herself to grab a hot cocoa.

Regina was confused. She firmly believed that Evil was made, not born. She had herself as a living example. (And, after having read Henry's book, she knew that the same could be said of Rumple, her mother, and, almost certainly, Zelena.) When, for Henry's sake, she'd decided to mend her ways and come back to the side of Good, it had been a long haul and there had been more than one setback along the way. Over time, she'd come up with a technique that had generally proven effective: whenever she was faced with a situation that required a moral choice, she took her first instinct and then, did the precise opposite.

A week ago, in the warehouse, every instinct she had had been screaming to her that her sister would be a permanent threat—one that needed to be eliminated forthwith. She'd checked herself and spared Zelena's life. She'd even stopped Rumple from taking his vengeance. It had been the right thing to do. She was convinced of it. Just as she was convinced that everyone deserved a second chance. And, Regina was forced to admit, if Zelena's case was anything like her own, she might need several more. So be it. In the end, she was sure that Zelena would come around.

The others at the table—nearly all of them heroes—did not appear to be in agreement.

"Look, sister," Grumpy spoke up, "I won't deny that you may have changed since the old days, but it took you years, a Dark Curse, and a whole lot of other stuff after it, before you did. Our people paid for those chances in pain, in tears, and in blood. So… what guarantees have we got that giving the witch another chance won't deliver more of the same?"

Regina sighed. "First," she pointed out, "Zelena no longer has her magic."

"Regina," Belle said apologetically, "during the curse, neither did you. It didn't keep you from holding me in a solitary cell for twenty-eight years."

"Or framing my mother for murder," Emma chimed in.

"Murdering Greg Mendel's father," came from Hook.

"Magic might make it easier to hide her tracks," Bashful said diffidently as he stared at the table, "but not having it won't necessarily stop her from hurting us, if she wants to."

Regina fought back her instinct to incinerate the conference table with a fireball. They weren't bringing up her past to insult or hurt her. They were putting forth a rebuttal to her argument. And lashing out wasn't about to help her case. "I can handle Zelena," she said tightly. "I've done it before."

"How?" Grumpy demanded. "Take her heart?" She hesitated a fraction of a second too long and Grumpy laughed bitterly. "Sister, you can't force someone to take a second chance."

"Maybe," Aurora spoke up. "But removing her heart would prevent her from taking any further hostile actions." There were murmurs of agreement.

Regina took a quick look around the table and saw many heads nodding in agreement. To her surprise, Rumple's wasn't one of them. "Well," she said, "before this hearing was called, my initial plan was to give Zelena a second chance and—should she turn it down—to take her heart and crush it. I'm not opposed to a few modifications." She met Rumple's eyes and he flinched and looked away. Interesting. "Rumple?" she asked, a bit louder than before. "Your thoughts?"

He gave her a hard look, but he rose to his feet. "It's a bad idea," he said tersely.

Regina's eyebrows shot up. She would have expected him to jump on the notion. "Care to elaborate?"

He pressed his lips together for a moment. Then, softly, he replied, "I suppose, if I must…" He gave Regina a direct stare. "Well, you've gone soft, Your Majesty. Or, Madame Mayor, if you prefer. You're so quick to dole out second chances these days, trying so hard to distance yourself from the person you used to be…" He smiled then, but it wasn't a nice smile. "The person you used to be made a habit out of taking hearts, to control or crush at your pleasure. I suspect that, if push were to come to shove, rather than risk backsliding, well, you might come up with all manner of excuses for not doing what you're offering to do here today. After all, it does boil down to enslaving—or murdering—your own sister."

Regina frowned. "You're not suggesting that I entrust her heart to you, I hope."

Rumple chuckled. "I don't think either of us are fool enough to believe the rest of the council would vote in favor of that proposition. Nor that their majesties would be willing to accept such a resolution if they did. No. But that does bring us to the… ah… heart of the problem? Taking your sister's heart means that someone will need to guard it. This would have to be a person above the temptation to… say… compel Zelena to commit some dark act as a pretext for killing her. Or to enslave her in some other fashion. It would also need to be a person resolute enough to take the necessary action, should Zelena step out of line, instead of hesitating and second-guessing, while she brings this town down about our ears. So." He looked about the room. "Anybody here feel up to the task?" His gaze fell on Archie. "Doctor Hopper, perhaps?"

Archie shook his head. "I-I couldn't."

"How about our dear sheriff?"

Emma's mouth hung open. "No way."

"And your parents?"

Regina remembered something she'd overheard David say the day that he and Snow had retrieved Rumple's dagger from the clock tower and shook her head, frowning. "The next time something threatens this town," she admitted, "the temptation to use Zelena to deal with it might prove too great for them."

"I thought she has no more magic," Philip said.

"Take off the cuff, give her back her pendant, and that changes," Emma replied. "And if she's under someone's control, and the town is being threatened, that could be considered a risk worth taking."

"Until the moment when it's not," Belle said.

"Quite," Hook agreed. "Plus, if she manages to reclaim her heart, well, we saw what the Dark One nearly did as soon as he was free from her control. I've little doubt she'd attempt similar vengeance."

Regina was almost certain that Rumple's quick nod was involuntary. She doubted he'd openly side with the pirate, regardless of circumstance. She sighed. "It looks as though we'll need to come up with a different solution."

It was dark by the time the hearing adjourned for the day and they were still no closer to a consensus. Banishment from Storybrooke seemed to be a favorite solution, right behind keeping Zelena locked up indefinitely—whether in the hospital's secure ward, or in the cage where she'd confined Rumple. That suggestion had come from Philip. Perhaps Regina shouldn't have been surprised at that. She'd been in the hospital checking up on Snow and Emma, when he and Hook had rushed in, Hook wheeling Aurora down the hall, Philip trying to keep pace and attend to both his wife and the baby in her arms. And when they'd been taken to a room not far from Snow's, Regina had heard the prince bellowing about how he'd found his wife confined in a cage 'not fit for livestock on their way to the slaughterhouse'.

At Little John's suggestion, she and Rumple had transported everyone to the farmhouse to see the cage. She'd barely noticed when Rumple had all but fled the room, Belle on his heels. The cage had looked a lot smaller in the empty room than it had taking up most of the floor in the storm cellar. And it had reeked. A spinning wheel, two stools, a pile of straw for a bed, more straw by the wheel… There'd been a bucket, too, which seemed to be the main source of the smell. Regina considered what it might have been like to occupy that space for weeks on end and hoped that her face displayed none of her dismay. She'd held people captive before—sometimes for the flimsiest of reasons, but not like this. She'd shut them away, yes. But the cells had been designed simply to prevent escape. They might not have been comfortable, but they'd never been this… confining. Or austere. And if I took a prisoner's heart, I almost always allowed them their freedom to come and go as they chose, so long as they were clear on who held their strings. Once I controlled them, I didn't have to keep them locked up on top of it.

She could understand Philip's reasoning, much as she could understand Rumple's. In another life, it was the kind of thing she might have found fitting for an enemy she'd gotten the better of. But… wasn't Good supposed to be better than this?

They'd all been somewhat subdued when they'd returned to the town hall and the council had broken up shortly afterwards. Regina had left quickly, not feeling a need to talk to anyone on the way out. Her thoughts were in turmoil, as she went to meet Henry at Granny's.

Henry's welcoming smile died on his lips when he got a good look at her face. "It didn't go well, huh?" he asked.

Regina sat down across from him in the booth and studied the specials on the chalkboard over the counter. "I guess," she admitted, "that would depend on how you look at it. Do you know what you want to order?"

Henry looked embarrassed. "I… kind of had some cake while I was waiting for you. And a chocolate milk. And a sundae."

Regina tried to look cross. "I don't mind that you started eating without me. I do mind that you started with dessert."

"Sorry."

Regina sighed. "Just don't make a habit of it." She turned to the waitress, who had walked up to take her order. "I suppose I'll have the blue plate special," she said.

The young woman smiled and wrote it down. "It'll just be a few minutes."

Regina nodded.

"Mom?" Henry interjected. "I guess I could have a hotdog. I know you hate eating alone."

Regina smiled and nodded again to the waitress. After the young woman was out of earshot, her smile fell away.

"That bad?"

For a moment, Regina wished that she could just slouch in her chair and put her elbows on the table and all the other behaviors that Cora had trained out of her ages ago. It would be nice to look as deflated as she felt. Instead, she tried to smile at her son. "That bad," she admitted. "I suppose I understand it, but I was hoping for…" Her voice trailed off, as she realized that Henry probably wouldn't see things her way either.

"Mom?"

"Henry," Regina said slowly, "I know how you feel about Zelena and I really can't blame you. At the same time, she is my sister. And I can't help thinking that if I was able to change, she can too."

Henry nodded. "I get that," he said. "I do. But Mom… you wanted to change. Does Zelena?"

"I don't know," Regina admitted. "Before all of this happened, I gave her an ultimatum at the sheriff's station: take the second chance I was offering and turn over a new leaf, or I'd crush her heart."

Henry's mouth dropped open for a moment. "Did you mean that?" he asked.

"I know," she sighed. "It sounds like I reverted for a moment. I think I meant what I was saying, but I don't know if I could actually go through with it. I was just… trying to give her an incentive."

"Yeah," Henry said, "but then, she wouldn't be changing because she wanted to, but because you were forcing her. I think…" his expression grew troubled, "I think any time you try to force someone to do what you want, they might do it, but they'll also keep looking for a chance to get away and get back at you." He picked up his nearly-empty chocolate milk and slurped up the last bit, pretending not to see his mother wince at the sound. "Kind of like when you grabbed me out of the town hall meeting when the curse broke and, as soon as I got home, I tried climbing out the window."

Regina nodded wearily. "I did something similar, long ago, hoping to escape marrying King Leopold. Had I succeeded at that… Well, I'm actually glad I didn't, because on that path, it's unlikely that Snow and David would have met, which would mean that Emma—and you—would never have been born. But on that path, I never would have begun studying the dark arts, either. There would have been no 'Evil Queen,' no Dark Curse… All of which is beside the point," she admitted. "You're right. Cora hemmed me in until I had to break out in the worst way possible."

Henry nodded. Then he got up from the table, came around to Regina's side of the booth, and sat down next to her. "You know something?" he said. "I think that's when you started to try to change. When you realized that what you were doing wasn't just hurting people you hated, but people you cared about."

"Someone I loved," Regina corrected, clasping Henry's hand in her own. "The problem is, Zelena doesn't seem to love—or even care about—anyone other than herself."

Henry nodded.

Regina frowned. "Wait. It wasn't only that I realized I was hurting you," she said slowly. "It was that I could empathize with you, because I'd lived through the same sort of thing that I was trying to do to you at that time. I wonder…"

"Mom?"

Regina smiled slowly. "I wonder if there's a way in which Zelena can learn the same lesson."

Emma had to admit that a magical meal tasted every bit as satisfying as one cooked in the conventional manner. "Please," she implored, as she reached for another cookie, "tell me that magical calories burn off faster than the other kind."

Gold raised an eyebrow. "All magic comes with a price, dearie. If you try to avoid the obvious one, you might find yourself paying a higher one."

Belle laughed. Emma rolled her eyes. "It was worth a try." She pushed away her plate. "Okay. So, tomorrow, I was thinking that we should—" She broke off when she heard a sharp knock on the door. "You expecting anyone? Wait. What time is it?"

Belle looked at her watch. "It's a bit after eight," she said.

Emma slapped her hand to her forehead. "I was supposed to pick up Henry at Granny's a half an hour ago!" she exclaimed. "It's probably him now."

Gold was already walking toward the door. When he opened it, Emma saw him tense. She didn't really blame him; it wasn't just Henry standing on the doorstep, but… "Good evening, Madame Mayor," Gold greeted her coldly. Then, in a friendlier tone, "Hello, Henry."

Regina took a deep breath. "May we come in for a moment?"

"Henry!" Emma called. "I'm so sorry. I was just going to leave to come—"

"Mom!" Henry cut her off, as Gold moved aside to allow him entry. "It's okay. Really."

Gold fixed Regina with a penetrating stare. "What is it you want?"

Regina coaxed a bright smile onto her face. "I want to discuss a deal."