Chapter Twenty-Eight—"What Matters Most"


Finding Lacey French when the library was closed turned out to be harder than Emma expected. In the end, after three days of trying to run into her without going to Gold's house—given that she wanted to ask about the man, Emma didn't feel right doing it there, particularly if that hulking henchman of his was around—she just about gave up. However, a chance comment to Graham when she was driving him home from the hospital turned up Lacey French's cell phone number, which she hadn't known that the former sheriff had.

"We went to school together," Graham replied with a shrug as she helped him out of the car and back into the wheelchair the hospital had given him. "She used to come to me when Keith was being too much of a pain."

"Stalking her, you mean," Emma supplied, having already encountered her deputy's unhealthy obsession with the former librarian.

"Yeah." Graham grimaced. "Pretty much. Thanks."

Emma'd finished wrestling him into the wheelchair, damn glad that Graham lived on the first floor of his apartment building. He didn't look any happier with the arrangement than she was—it had to be humiliating to have someone helping like this—but Graham dredged up a smile for her, anyway. "Everything okay?" Emma asked.

"Yeah. I was just thinking that I managed to get you to come back to my place after all," her old boss quipped, and Emma snorted out a laugh.

"Don't get too excited," she retorted, but she grinned despite herself. It was great to see Graham coming back to himself after so long in the hospital, and Emma had missed him when Cora had forced her to stay away with that damn restraining order.

"Hard to do that from the wheelchair," he replied dryly, then gestured at his front door. "C'mon. Let's go find Lacey's cell number. I know I have it somewhere, even though my phone was destroyed in the accident."

"If your organizational system at home is anything like the one you didn't use in the office, it's going to take us years to find it," Emma joked back, and Graham laughed.

"No, I've got an old fashioned phone book, actually."

"Really? I didn't think anyone had those these days."

Graham shrugged. "Guess I'm just an old fashioned kind of guy."

"I kind of like that," Emma admitted, and they shared another smile as she wheeled him up the front walk.


"Are you sure you're okay with this?" David asked quietly, and Regina bit back the desire to groan. He'd come to her office to see her during lunch—not the place she really wanted to have this conversation!—and now he was getting cold feet.

Can't you just go fall in love with Mary Margaret and be done with it? she wanted to demand. Sometimes just looking at David Nolan made Regina want to tear her hair out. Why did Mother have to make you so much less decisive in this world? But those thoughts weren't particularly fair to her cursed 'husband'. David's own actual sense of honor was undoubtedly getting in the way here, and although Regina appreciated his care for her feelings, she really wished he would just listen to her and go romance another woman.

"I'm sure, David," she replied as levelly as she could. "Look…we both know that we haven't been okay in this marriage for a long time. We're friends, and I like being your friend, but we both know that you need something more. If that something is Mary Margaret, then I'm okay with that. Really."

"But what if I…" he trailed off, and Regina tried not to grimace.

"What if you fall in love with her?" she asked gently.

David nodded miserably. "It's one thing to have an affair that's only physical, but you're my wife, Regina."

"Do you remember why we got married?" she asked, wishing she could lay the whole truth in front of him, but David Nolan wasn't the type to believe in a mythical curse that made them all miserable. Not yet, and maybe not ever. Damn this curse.

"Uh, you know, it's funny, but…I can't."

Of course he couldn't remember. The curse didn't care for people looking too hard at their pasts. Then things might fall apart. "My mother wanted it. We didn't. And we tried to make it work, first for ourselves and then for Henry, but we're not in love. We never have been," Regina told him, reaching out to squeeze his hand. Whatever had happened, Regina was a lot closer to her brother in law now than she ever had been before, and she didn't want him hurting over the vindictive marriage her mother had stuck them in. "It's not your fault. And I want you to be happy."

"It still feels like I'm betraying you," David said doggedly.

"Well, you're not, so stop thinking like that. Maybe it's time for both of us to move on."

Her husband jerked back a little in surprise. "Are you saying you want a divorce?"

Did she ever. But Regina knew that Cora would object, and her mother was far too willing to hurt Henry for Regina's comfort level. Not for the first time, Regina contemplated finding a way to kill her mother—much though she valued family, if Cora was going to force her to choose between her and the rest of Regina's family, Cora would lose ever time. But Regina wouldn't have put it past her mother to insert a caveat in the curse that meant it would never break if someone killed her, so she couldn't risk it. And she couldn't risk her mother hurting Henry if Regina's attempt failed. Just like we can't risk tipping her off too much. If David and I get a divorce, she's going to notice the two of them together, and she's bound to kill one of them if that happens. So, all Regina did was sigh.

"Why don't you figure out if Mary Margaret is someone you want to spend the rest of your life with first?" she asked as reasonably as she could. "That way you know before we turn Henry's life upside down."

"I can do that," David agreed, squeezing her hand in return. "Thank you, Regina. I don't really know what to say, but…thank you."

Regina smiled back, hating herself and feeling good at the same time. Hopefully, the curse would be broken by the time he figured out what he wanted, and then there would be no obstacles keeping David and Snow apart. And maybe then she could find happiness, too.

Somehow.


1 Year Before the Curse

After much argument, Belle had convinced her husband that Gabrielle needed contact with other children. It hadn't mattered so much when their daughter was tiny, but now that she was aging, she needed to learn to make friends and to deal with people other than her parents. Rumplestiltskin had always known that, of course; he was a far more experienced parent than Belle was, never panicking over Gabrielle's many moods or even when the toddler managed to fall down the stairs. She could see the love and the hard-won practice inherent in every gesture he made towards their child, and Belle knew that Rumplestiltskin—intellectually—understood the need to socialize their daughter. He was just worried. Time and again, Rumple had told Belle how many enemies he had and how those enemies would gladly hurt their daughter, and while Belle couldn't quite wrap her mind around how anyone could harm a child, she understood his point.

Still, they'd been visiting the town at the bottom of his mountain incognito for three months, and nothing had gone wrong yet. Dove always accompanied them, but since the shapeshifter lived on the outskirts of town, it presented no hardship for him. Belle was rather fond of the tall, quiet man, particularly when he was in human form (though she also had to enjoy the way he rode around on Gabrielle's shoulder as a dove, because it made her little girl happier than almost anything else). Dove was a reassuring presence, particularly when she was amongst strangers.

Not that the townspeople were strangers now. She'd grown to know them as Paige, a widow who lived in a cottage in the hills not too far away. Courtesy of the glamour spell that Rumplestiltskin had cast over her, Belle looked like a slightly older woman, taller than she really was and with dark eyes to match her seemingly black hair. Gabrielle still looked the same; it was hard to explain to a two year old why she had to be a different person. To her, Belle looked the same as she always had, but to everyone else, the pair was effectively disguised. It was a bit of Rumple's paranoia that Belle smiled and embraced; she was pretty sure that no one would have recognized her even without the glamour, but if it made him feel better, she was not going to argue. And it did let Belle and Gabrielle go down to the town once a week, supposedly so that Widow Paige could do some shopping and let her daughter play with the local children.

Right now, Gabrielle was sitting between two boys, one her age and one just a little older, building a castle out of mud and sticks. She was going to be an awful mess when they got back to the Dark Castle, but Belle was didn't begrudge her daughter time spent in the dirt. It made Gabrielle happy, and that was what mattered. The two boys, Flynn and Jack, were good kids, as was Jack's sister Jill. Belle liked them, and their mothers, and a quick peek over the edge of her book told her that the trio was still doing well. She wasn't sure where Jill had gone off to, but someone had said something about the little girl being sick, which probably explained why the twins' aunt was out here with them today. Jack and Jill's family was new to Caerleon, but the children's Aunt Lunete was not.

"Fools wanted to call on a fairy," that same aunt was grumbling right now to one of the other women sitting together in the square. Today was the day when the town's women got together to knit and do other social things, and they'd welcomed Belle into their little circle despite the fact that she read instead of doing something more traditional. "My Pierre told them that they should call on the lord, but no, they wanted a fairy. Said that a fairy would be better with children."

"Obviously, they haven't seen him with children," Gytha, the local midwife piped up. "Demon they might call him, but he's kind to the little ones."

"An' more fair than a fairy, too," Dob, the mayor's wife agreed. "At least he tells you his price upfront. Fairies are likely to come back years later, wanting something, and then you're obligated to listen to them because they helped your babe."

Smiling into her book, Belle kept her own council. She'd been so very surprised on her first trip to Caerleon to find that the town's residents not only tolerated Rumplestiltskin as their lord but actually respected him, but by now she knew that he actually took his duties as their ruler rather seriously. He always shrugged self-effacingly and said that it was the peasant in him, but Belle knew that it really was the fact that he cared for these people shining through. Oh, he'd never be some great philanthropist, but Rumple was a better man than he gave himself credit for. They were his people, and he took care of them.

Still, she didn't think he'd be happy to learn that a fairy had been on his lands, so Belle planned to keep that little fact to herself. There was no need to get Rumple worked up over something innocent.

"Idiots," Jack and Jill's aunt concluded, gesturing irritably with her head. "But they got their fairy."

Jack and Jill's parents owned the local brewery, which meant their shop—and their home, which was above it—snuggled right up on the square. Belle looked up idly, just in time to see a fairy fly out of the door. Jill came skipping out a moment later, looking hale and happy, and that would have taken up all of Belle's attention if the blue-green dressed fairy hadn't followed the three year old over.

The other children oohed and giggled as Jill introduced her new friend: "This is Cyan! Mamma says she saved me."

"Hello, children," the Cyan Fairy said solemnly, and the children chorused a greeting back. "Are you having fun?"

"Yes!" the group replied, and Belle smiled a bit. She knew her husband's feelings about fairies, but clearly some of them were better than others, and apparently the Cyan Fairy was one of the good ones. Belle even remembered reading a bit about her in one of Rumple's books on the history of magic; she was one of the older fairies, and had been around almost as long as the Blue Fairy.

A fluttering of wings distracted Belle momentarily; Dove had shapeshifted and was flying away. But she did not have time to wonder why before the fairy spoke again.

"But there is one amongst you who is different from the others," Cyan continued, and Belle sat up straight as the fairy flew to hover near Gabrielle. "Tell me, child, what is your name?"

"Gabrielle," Belle's two year old daughter answered solemnly, looking up at the fairy with her father's big brown eyes.

"Hello, Gabrielle." The fairy dipped down, still flying, but now on eye-level with Gabrielle. "Why is there dark magic on you, child?"

Belle's heart leapt into her throat, and she was on her feet, book carelessly discarded, and managed to get in before the two year old could answer. "Gabrielle, come here."

"Mamma?" Gabrielle twisted to look at her in confusion, but she was a good girl, and started toddling towards Belle even as Belle made a beeline for her daughter. But Cyan's head snapped up, calculation tearing through her eyes, and suddenly her wand was out, and fairy magic wrapped around Gabrielle.

Gabrielle was used to magic, so she didn't complain as sparkling fairy dust lifted her off her feet, but Belle jumped for her, knowing that everything was about to go wrong. Somehow, the situation had spiraled so far out of control before she could even blink, and this fairy couldn't be about to take her child away. Fairies didn't do that!

"Let my daughter go!" she demanded, lunging for Gabrielle. A twitch of Cyan's wrist sent the child too high for Belle to reach. "What are you doing?"

"I know the magic on this child," Cyan replied imperiously. "And if you have allowed this to happen, you cannot be permitted to keep her."

"I cannot what? She's my daughter!"

"She was," Cyan retorted, already growing smaller in the distance—and with Gabrielle in tow.

"Mamma!" Gabrielle cried, frightened now and struggling against the magic that held her. Cyan was flying low, either to keep from scaring Gabrielle more or because Gabrielle was fighting her. And Gabrielle was; the two year old was kicking and screaming as she was magically flown around buildings and over streets, heading away from town and away from the mountain that the Dark Castle resided upon. Belle rushed after them, running as hard as she could, pushing through the suddenly gaping crowds, and she managed to keep up until Cyan finally reached the town's outer edge and tried to hoist herself and her stolen charge higher into the air.

"Dratted child!" Belle could hear the fairy snarling, and somehow she got the impression that Gabrielle's innate magical talents were making it hard for the fairy to fly faster. Cyan looked like she was trying to fly underwater; her wings were beating harder and harder and she was obviously struggling. But whatever friction she'd encountered, the fairy finally overcame it with a flick of her wand, and she sped up.

"Let go!" Gabrielle howled, crying and screaming in fear. This magic wasn't the magic she knew, and—

Belle suddenly realized what she should have been doing all along, had her panic not seized control of her mind. Still running, she shouted his name as loudly as she could, fueling the call with all the desperate terror she felt for their child.

"Rumplestiltskin!"


There was a distinctive smell of smoke in the house when Rumplestiltskin got home that evening, and had he not heard Renee giggling, he would have quickly grown worried. As it was, he just coughed and closed the front door behind himself, limping his way into the kitchen. Their daughter was seated at the table, playing with a set of alphabet blocks, but Belle was busy scraping a pan out into the trash. Whatever had been in it was burned black, charred beyond recognition and rather crusty looking. It was certainly the source of the stench, too.

"What happened?" he asked as casually as he could, trying to guess what had been in the pan based on how it smelled when burnt. Chicken of some sort, maybe?

Belle looked up guiltily, and her blush was adorable. "A little cooking accident?"

"There's no need, sweetheart," Rumplestiltskin said, making his way fully into the kitchen as Renee piped up:

"Mamma burned it!" She punctuated the announcement by smashing a block into the table, and Rumplestiltskin bit back a laugh until his mind latched onto the word choice.

"'Mamma'?" he echoed, glancing at Belle.

She shrugged. "She goes through stages. I guess this is a new one."

"Or an old one."

"Do you think so?" Finally finished with the pan, Belle shoved in into the sink, squirting some dish soap in and filling it with hot water. "Is that possible?"

"There's no way to know," Rumplestiltskin answered honestly, limping over to the trash can and taking it back to where it belonged on the other side of the kitchen. "Children are remarkably flexible, and she's the product of True Love—the same True Love that I put on the curse to wake you up. She might begin to remember, and she might not."

"So, you're saying that anything could happen?" his wife smiled over her shoulder at him. "And you have no idea what to expect, despite being the most powerful sorcerer alive?"

"Pretty much. Though I'd bet against you learning to cook," he retorted playfully.

"Hey!"

Rumplestiltskin stepped up next to her, bending to kiss her neck as Renee giggled and smashed a few more blocks together. "I just call things the way they are, my dear," he murmured.

"I bet you do," she laughed.

"So, what was that, anyway?" Rumplestiltskin asked lightly, gesturing at the soaking pan.

"It started as chicken," Belle admitted. "And I fear that I wasted all of it in my mess."

"Well, then I suppose we'll just have to order in," he replied with a shrug, kissing her cheek. "Worse disasters have happened. You could have lit the kitchen on fire."

"I only did that once!" she protested. "And it wouldn't have happened if you hadn't insisted on keeping straw in the castle kitchen."

Laughing, Rumplestiltskin wrapped his left arm around his wife's waist. "There's a reason I stopped letting you cook in the Dark Castle, sweetheart. And given that there's no magic to put out your fires here, I think you should stick to the microwave."

Belle shot him a glare, but there was no heat behind it. Instead, she twisted in his arms to press a quick kiss to his lips. "Chinese or pizza?"

For a moment, the sheer domesticity of the situation floored Rumplestiltskin; how many months had he spent hoping for moments like this, moments when he could simply live with his wife and child? He'd not dared hope a day like this might come before the curse was broken, and now he was going to cling to it for all he was worth. He loved them both so much, and he would do everything he could to prove that every day. So, he smiled at Belle, letting his eyes drift over to where Renee was still determinedly smashing her blocks together at the table, paying no mind when the A, N, and P went flying off the table. She only giggled cheerfully and started building a pyramid with the remaining blocks, until she smashed that, too, with a triumphant grin. Looking back at his wife, he replied:

"I shudder to think of the mess our little one could make of Chinese. Let's stick with pizza."


1 Year Before the Curse

"Rumplestiltskin!"

The call had cut in on him moments after Dove arrived, still in avian form and clearly distressed. Since he'd sent the shapeshifter to watch over his wife and daughter in town, Rumplestiltskin had immediately stepped away from his wheel and gathered power to himself, ready for anything. He'd barely opened his mouth to ask Dove what the problem was when Belle's desperate voice invaded his mind, sharp and terrified and calling for him. Immediately, Rumplestiltskin's magic swirled around them both, dragging him and Dove both to Belle's location. Rumplestiltskin didn't stop to determine where his wife was, only that she needed him, and he was not going to hesitate. Not for anything.

Dove bolted upwards the moment they landed in a swirl of purple smoke just outside the town walls, and the power rearing into Rumplestiltskin's hands sizzled ominously as he took in the scene before him: Belle, distraught. Gabrielle, dangling in the air, held up only by a fairy's magic. A fairy, Cyan, one of Reul Ghorm's closest and most close-minded followers. And she had his daughter.

Kill the fairy, his curse whispered.

Gladly, Rumplestiltskin raged silently, calling spells to mind, sorting through them like lightning to find one that would tear his daughter away from the fairy without harming Gabrielle. He was furious, and his curse was howling for vengeance, but he was not such a creature of rage and passion that Rumplestiltskin could not be careful. Not with his daughter at stake. Bringing a fairy down from flight was hard, and Cyan arched higher into the air the moment she saw him, but he had a plan with a high likelihood of success. His daughter's terrified scream, however, dug giant holes in his concentration, and his fury fizzled as worry overrode every other emotion. Focusing on his anger, Rumplestiltskin brought his hands up—

Only to watch a white, feathered blur crash right into the fairy, who yelped and rolled wildly in midair, her wings flapping desperately as she struggled to maintain altitude. The impact sent her into a spin, and she almost dropped her wand. It would have been amusing had Cyan not lost control of Gabrielle at the same time, and a little girl's piercing scream filled the air as Dove whirled around for another pass.

"Papa!" Gabrielle screeched as his magic reached out for her, plucking her out of the Cyan Fairy's grasp even as the fairy brought her wand back around. But Dove hit the winged flea again, and though Cyan swung her wand in his direction, a blast of magic from Rumplestiltskin knocked her off balance once more, long enough for Dove to get clear and Gabrielle to land in Rumplestiltskin's arms. Her arms wrapped around his neck immediately, holding on tight, and Rumplestiltskin felt tears against his neck.

"Papa," his daughter sobbed, and his anger again warred with his worry for control.

"Hush, princess, it's all right," he soothed her, but his eyes were still on the fairy.

Now she knows. She cannot survive this. Rumplestiltskin wasn't sure if that thought was his own or belonged to the curse; either way, it was accurate. For two years he had kept the secret of his daughter's birth, and now a fairy knew. But not for long. Fury filled his body, sharpened his magic, and made a roaring madness fill his mind. Cradling his little girl close with his left arm, Rumplestiltskin let his right hand flash out, fire leaping out of his fingers and engulfing the Cyan Fairy. A second spell, a much quieter and more subtle one, rode the stream of fire towards the fairy, because Rumplestiltskin was angry but not a fool. He knew a senior fairy would be able to deflect the first attack, but he had no intentions of letting her get away.

None whatsoever.

"Rumple!" Belle shouted, and suddenly she was at his side. Her calling him had unlocked the glamour she was wearing, leaving her looking like Belle to anyone who saw her, but that didn't matter now.

"Take her," he said quickly, letting the second spell wrap around the fairy and pull her out of the sky. Belle accepted their daughter, though she had to pry her arms away from Rumplestiltskin's neck to do so.

"Don't go, Papa!" Gabrielle wailed, and Rumplestiltskin shot his little girl a quick smile as he stepped clear of his family.

"I'll be right here, Gabi," he promised, his hands coming up to deflect the incoming attack from Cyan.

Of course the fairy attacked. She had no choice, what with that second spell hauling her towards the ground at a dizzying rate. Cyan was quick, however; she managed to catch herself and not crash. But she wasn't powerful enough to stop the Dark One in a rage, and he wheeled on her, one spell striking out after another, roaring in on the fairy and hammering her hard. She staggered drunkenly even as Rumplestiltskin shrugged aside Cyan's attempts to harm him. Fairy dust was anathema to his curse, but his fury was more powerful, and it ate through the light magic aimed his way. He'd probably have some issues later, aches and pains he'd not appreciate, but for now he could ignore it. He could pay that price once his family was safe.

Contemptuously, Rumplestiltskin swatted Cyan's next attack aside and stepped towards the fairy, snarling. Cyan threw another attack at him, a swirl of purple dust that Rumplestiltskin teleported away from, and then she tried to make for the sky, jetting upwards with her wings flapping madly. But Rumplestiltskin was having none of that; he brought his hand up to shoulder height and then snapped it down palm facing the ground and magic mimicking his motion. Power slammed into Cyan from above, forcing her down, and this time she bounced off the forest floor like a yoyo. She tried to get up, but he hammered her down again, his hands starting to spark with pure dark magic.

Threaten my family, will you? Frighten my daughter? This is the last thing you will do, fairy.

"Rumple, what are you doing?" Belle asked frantically from his left, and her voice might have been the only thing able to cut through his fury at the moment.

"She has to be stopped. She'll tell the others, and then you and Gabrielle will never be safe," he replied, whirling back to face Cyan.

"But you can't—"

"Release me, Dark One!" Cyan ordered sharply, struggling a few feet into the air. One of her wings was bent at an odd angle, and Rumplestiltskin flicked magic at her when she tried to fix it, making black lightning crackle over both of her wings. Crying out, the fairy tumbled back to the ground.

"There!" Rumplestiltskin giggled, high-pitched and nasty. "I've released you. Happy?"

"Rumple, surely she won't endanger us anymore," Belle whispered desperately, stepping close to him despite the rage whipping around him like a whirlwind. "You're not the monster they think you are. You can make a deal with her. Can't you? Please?"

"She won't keep it," he snorted. "Will you, dear?"

Cyan tried to take off again, and Rumplestiltskin slammed her down a third time, relishing her cry of pain. Kill her slowly, the curse purred. Make her pay. He'd never reveled in torturing anyone, but now might be the time to start. This damn fairy had tried to steal his daughter, his little girl—

Gabrielle was still crying, quietly now, her face buried in her mother's shoulder and thankfully not watching her father butcher a fairy. Her fear, however, promptly drowned the worst of Rumplestiltskin's rage, pouring ice cold water on his fury and reminding him that no matter what else he was, he was a father first. The curse howled impotently in his mind, but looking at his daughter brought the monster out of the man. For a long moment, he stood transfixed, looking at his crying daughter and wondering how in the world anyone could endanger her, even a fairy who hated everything the Dark One stood for. As his attention shifted, so did his magic, allowing Cyan time to transform into her human sized self, wand in hand.

"Your spawn cannot be allowed to live," the fairy finally answered his question loftily, and those words made the father rage, not just the monster.

"What did you call her?" Belle demanded.

Cyan's lips curled up into a sneer. "She is an abomination. No Dark One has ever been allowed to breed, and for good reason!"

"Allowed to what?" Belle stepped forward next to him, and had her shout not made Gabrielle whimper quietly, Rumplestiltskin's wife might have said more. But their daughter's tears made Belle soften, and she shushed Gabrielle gently, her eyes travelling to Rumplestiltskin even as Cyan spat:

"You poor deluded girl. You can still be saved, but the demonspawn must be destroyed. There is no other way," the fairy decreed, and even Rumplestiltskin felt his eyes widen at that declaration. Was Cyan really so foolish? Had she really just said that in front of him?

His gaze met Belle's. This fairy wanted their daughter dead. Belle looked desperately unhappy, near to tears, but her eyes were also full of understanding. The demonspawn must be destroyed. They both knew what would happen if Cyan was allowed to tell the other fairies about their daughter.

"Do what you have to," Belle said softly, turning away to shield Gabrielle's gaze. Belle was the most forgiving person that Rumplestiltskin had ever met, but this was one thing that neither of them could ever excuse.

Even his curse loved Belle in that moment. Revel in it, the darkness whispered, but Rumplestiltskin pushed that aside. He would kill Cyan quickly, for his wife's sake. For his daughter's. Power filled his fingers, and Rumplestiltskin whirled back to face the fairy who had decreed that their daughter had to die. He had perfected a dozen different ways to kill fairies over the centuries, and Rumplestiltskin called four of them to hand as he pounded magic into Cyan. One spell after another hit, overwhelming even this most senior of fairies, and then Rumplestiltskin slipped his favorite fairy-killing enchantment through her defenses.

Cyan disappeared in a flash of blue and green light, power arching out from the space where the fairy had been. A flick of his wrist brought her wand to his hand—Rumplestiltskin was not one to waste an opportunity, after all—but then he turned away from the cloud of fairy dust slowly drifting to the ground.

"Belle?" he asked tentatively, terrified that this—very necessary—killing had lost him the family he had just fought to protect. He knew that his wife didn't like his darker side; she had talked him out of killing the Huntsman and would likely try do the same every time she got the chance. Belle was good where he was dark, and he hoped like hell that their daughter would turn out like her mother, not like him. But Rumplestiltskin didn't know what he would do if he lost them. "Sweetheart?"

She turned back to face him, and there were indeed tears streaking down her face.

"I had to," he whispered helplessly. "Please understand. She would have told the other fairies, and they would never have stopped trying to take Gabrielle. I couldn't—I couldn't let them take her."

He would have babbled onwards if Belle hadn't cut him off, nodding rapidly. "I know," she whispered, stepping forward instead of running away from him like Rumplestiltskin had expected. "It's all right. You did what you had to."

Suddenly, his wife and his daughter were in his arms, and Rumplestiltskin held them both tightly. Emotion welled up in his throat, too thick to allow him to speak, so he just wrapped his arms around them and held on. Rumplestiltskin had rarely been so terrified in his life as he had been in those moments, both in watching a fairy try to steal his beloved daughter and then worrying his own actions—and his furious curse—would make his family leave.

"I love you," Rumplestiltskin whispered.

"And we love you," Belle replied.

Small hands reached out for him, and Rumplestiltskin felt his daughter shift to cling to both of her parents. Her touch combined with Belle's to quiet the raging of his thwarted curse; it was furious for having been denied a messy and slow death for an enemy, but Rumplestiltskin could not care. His family was safe. That was all that mattered.


Emma finally managed to get a hold of Lacey French the day after Graham gave her the former librarian's number. She'd had to leave a message, which meant Lacey called her back the next morning, complete with a laughing apology about how Renee had gotten ahold of her phone and somehow turned the ringer off. The story rang true, so Emma didn't argue; instead, she asked Lacey if she would be willing to meet Emma for lunch the next day. Of course, that created a problem in and of itself, but eventually Lacey was able to talk Ruby into babysitting so that they could eat at Granny's without a three year old interruption. Emma tried to hide how relieved she was when Lacey dropped her daughter off with the waitress; she was barely managing to be a (sort of) mother to a ten year old, and had no idea how she'd cope with a kid a lot younger than that. Lacey, however, seemed perfectly serene about motherhood, despite being a handful of years younger than Emma.

"So," the displaced librarian began cheerfully, "what did you want to talk about?"

Emma had thought long and hard about how to approach this conversation, and in the end she'd decided to go with being blunt. "You," she replied. "I know things can't be easy for you since the library burned down, and a lot of people are worried about you."

"You mean they're worried about me working for Mr. Gold," Lacey answered just as frankly, meeting Emma's eyes. There was an odd sort of confidence in the former librarian's blue eyes, and a directness that Emma hadn't expected.

"Kind of, yeah," the sheriff admitted. "It's…out of character for him, and he's not the type to offer up charity. So, people are worried."

"That's the second time you've said that," the brunette pointed out. "Who are these 'people'?"

"Your father, for one." Man, Emma really was starting to feel uncomfortable. Lacey hardly seemed abused, despite what Moe French seemed to fear. But maybe Moe was on to something, and if Lacey was in trouble, Emma wanted to help.

That made the former librarian snort. "Oh, you mean the man who kicked me out and told me not to come back unless I put my daughter up for adoption? I'm glad he's so worried about us now, but it's a little bit late for that. If he wanted to take care of me, he should have done it during the first three years of Renee's life."

It might have been nice if Moe had mentioned that, too, in his crusade to get me to help his daughter, the sheriff thought a bit testily, wishing the florist was there to have this suddenly awkward conversation instead of her. Damn him.

"He said the two of you weren't talking, but that he's worried he, uh, drove you to Gold." Emma shrugged, watching Lacey's body language as much as she paid attention to her actual words. Lacey didn't exhibit any of the traits most battered women did; she wasn't apologizing for Gold, she wasn't frightened, and she was straightforward as hell. Her blue eyes were clear and determined, even a little angry, but then again, if Emma had been in her shoes, she might have been angry, too. After all, Emma knew what it was like to be young, pregnant, and afraid. She didn't know what it was like to have your only family abandon you because you were going to have a child, but she had enough imagination to know how much it had to hurt.

"My father didn't drive me anywhere," Lacey said shortly. "Gold offered me a job because I worked for him before. I accepted it because he's a better man than people give him credit for, and I know that he won't demand I give up my daughter, which is more credit than I can give my father."

Emma blinked. Now there was the sign she was looking for, the odd excuse that was out of place with the situation. "Are you saying that you and Gold aren't involved in anyway?"

"I'm saying that it's none of your business if we are," was the immediate response, and Emma felt her suspicions increase tenfold.

Unbidden, the memory of Gold scoffing at Cora's barely-veiled insinuation that part of Lacey's job was to provide sexual favors came to mind. But the pawnbroker hadn't denied it, and that set Emma's teeth on edge. And now Lacey wasn't exactly saying no, either, which Emma knew was the same as a giant, neon yellow 'YES' printed on the wall behind Granny's bar. She'd known that the pawnbroker was a slimy bastard, but this was a bit much. Again, she thought of a few more oblique ways to bring up the topic, but in the end, Emma again opted for being blunt.

"You know that it's illegal to pay someone for sex, right?" she asked.

Lacey actually laughed. "Is that what you think is happening?" she said incredulously. "Sheriff, whatever you think is going on between Gold and I, I promise you that you're wrong. And that I'm exactly where I want to be. I'm happy."

"Are you sure about that?" Emma pressed. But she knew what answer she'd get. Lacey was clever, but not quite clever enough; the younger woman hadn't denied sleeping with Gold and she was definitely desperate enough to pretend she wanted to. However, Emma knew that she couldn't actually do anything as sheriff unless someone made a complaint, and Moe French's worries weren't enough to start a real investigation.

"Quite," Lacey replied predictably.

Still, Emma had to try one more tact. "Let me know if you need anything, okay? Even if it's just a change of pace. Or job."

"I will," the younger woman promised, rising to collect her child from Ruby. But Emma knew that she wouldn't call.

It was…weird, though. Lacey French had never struck Emma as the bold and decisive type. She was smart, sure, but she was also quiet and a little bit mousy. Emma was quite sure that Gold could eat that attitude of hers for breakfast, and that Lacey's present determination was probably manufactured. She hadn't lied, not exactly, but Emma knew Lacey wasn't telling the whole truth, either. Except when it comes to her wanting to hang onto Renee. That was truthful as hell, Emma thought to herself. And it was something she could understand. Emma had given Henry up to give him his best chance; Lacey was willing to work for the town's shadiest man if it got her daughter the care she wanted Renee to have.

Still, she was going to keep an eye on the situation. Even if she couldn't do anything official yet.


A/N: So, how do you think Rumplestiltskin's stance on protecting his children is going to change after this little event? And how far will Emma dig into the Lacey/Gold issue?

Next up is Chapter Twenty-Nine: "Love and Revenge," where Henry makes assumptions, Regina confronts Gold about Lacey, and Emma gets stuck in the middle. Back in the past, Charming receives an unexpected visitor, and Regina intervenes in another one of her mother's plans.

For anyone who is interested, you can now find me on tumblr under "To See How The Story Ends". There's a link at the top of my profile page.