Chapter 29

Rumple woke up Saturday morning after having passed a frustrating Friday evening. While he was getting the hang of using the drop spindle to focus his magic, such would prove rather impractical in an emergency situation. It seemed as though he could access his magical talents if he focused on what he meant to accomplish with them while he spun his thread. However, that meant that he couldn't just cast his spells with a wave of his hand as he'd been wont to do in the not-so-distant past. Spinning took a bit more time and, after some experimentation, he'd discovered that a longer thread made for a stronger spell.

While a great deal better than nothing, Rumple could see that this new development was going to prove problematic, particularly if Ursula was in town. If the Sea Witch meant to attack him, she could have him in the ocean and at her mercy before he could have the new wool attached to his leader thread. He doubted he'd be able to spin in the water, particularly not if he was also treading it to keep from drowning.

He thought about the shelf in his workroom, where he kept vials of bottled magic against an emergency. He could, likewise, spin certain spells in advance and store the thread. It would be easier to unleash the magic that way. But it would also mean that he would need to know exactly which thread contained which spell before he unraveled it. Otherwise, he might cast a healing spell when he needed a fireball. Or vice versa. In the midst of a battle, well! He pictured himself frantically pulling a handful of threads out of his suit jacket pocket and trying to determine what each one would do as his foe methodically aimed blasts of raw power at him. No, this was not a workable situation, not now.

Perhaps, another visit to Mr. Castaway was in order. Or perhaps, he would be better served discussing his concerns with the Apprentice instead. He'd have to call on one of them this week.

Meanwhile, though, he thought as he pushed back his bed covers and sat up, he needed to begin his day. Henry would be at the shop bright and early, set to complete his tasks before his friends arrived. And, there were still a few things that Rumple meant to do (in addition to getting washed up, dressed, and breakfasted) to prepare for Aggie's day.

The fragrance of pancakes wafted upstairs, mingling with that of cinnamon from the overnight oats that had even found its way into his dreams. Belle was fixing breakfast. Despite the trials and tribulations of last night, Rumple found himself smiling as he swung his legs off the mattress and found his slippers. He did need to hurry if he meant to join his wife for breakfast before they both left for their respective places of work.


Cruella drove up the road to the cemetery and pulled into the lot. It wasn't hard for them to spot the vault once they walked through the main gate. "I guess this is it," Lily murmured.

Ursula nodded. "You can't feel it, I know, but magic is practically radiating out from every crack and crevice."

Lily was silent for a moment. Then, "Actually, I… I think I do feel something. Almost like a… a warm thread. Pulling me in. Calling—" She'd taken an unwitting step forward and was startled when Ursula yanked her back.

"Careful!" the sea witch said. "Regina probably has sentry spells to let her know if anyone tries to intrude here. Stay back." Then, in a slightly more matter-of-fact tone, she added, "I guess it's not that surprising that you're feeling that pull. Your mother had magic, after all. It stands to reason you've some aptitude for it. But this isn't the time or place to experiment. Once we've acquired Rumple's heart and accomplished what we're setting out to do, there'll be plenty of opportunity for instruction. Right now, we can't afford to get sidetracked." She waited for Lily's reluctant nod.

"At any rate," Ursula continued, "this is where the heart is being kept. So. Let's make sure we're on the same page, because once we begin, we're going to have to move quickly. So. Today, Lily, you're going back to the hospital for another heart-to-heart with Zelena, where you will ask her…?"

"…Whether she's not getting sick of hospital food and if I can't slip her anything. If there is something she wants, I buy it. If not, I get her something anyway."

"Meanwhile," Ursula nodded, "I brew up something to accelerate her pregnancy. Fortunately, I'll need a few ingredients that aren't in that storm cellar, or she might recognize what I'm up to if she spies what I'm taking out of her supplies. I can mix the potion up on the beach for extra privacy; it'll be more or less deserted at this time of year, so I shouldn't think anybody will intrude. Tomorrow," she smiled, "you'll sprinkle a few drops of the potion on whatever it is you're getting for her. Don't stick around for long after she eats it. The baby will age roughly one month each hour, which means that she'll start to notice that something's wrong around hour two. And since she's about three or four months along, I'd expect she'll go into labor around hour five or six."

"While you're having afternoon tea with Zelena," Cruella continued, "Ursula and I will snatch Rumple. At that hour, he should be alone. His wife will be at the library and as for Emma's spawn, well, he usually leaves a bit before closing time, from what my furry and feathered spies have been reporting. There might be the odd customer, but we can work around that. In and out, like a flash, with nobody the wiser."

"Not too flashy," Ursula cautioned. "We want him to be able to leave some clue to tip off the others that he's in trouble and didn't just step out for coffee."

"That's assuming they'll go chasing after him, dahling."

Ursula sighed. "We can hope. If not, well, at least he'll be off the board and in no position to provide assistance to anyone who might come a-knocking on his door. We give him a minute or two; he's smart; he should be able to leave some kind of message in that space of time. And my tentacles are fast enough to keep him from triggering a silent alarm or pulling a gun."

"If it comes to that," Cruella said grimly, "I pack a pistol of my own. It should be enough to stop him."

"Just don't do anything more lethal than that," Ursula cautioned.

Cruella smiled. "No fear on that score, dahling. I just need to draw mine before he can draw his. And then, we wait for the croaker to get the call."

"Croaker?" Lily replied blankly. "Like a frog, you mean?"

"No, dahling," Cruella sighed. "That's just what we used to call doctors back where I come from. By the time Zelena goes into labor, he'll likely be relaxing at home. We catch him there; Ursula rips out his heart and, well, whichever of you two is the least squeamish takes on the Blue Fairy's likeness and accompanies him back to the hospital. The two of you deliver the baby and just make sure the squalling brat takes a detour on its way to the nursery."

"It'll have to be me," Ursula said reluctantly. "From what Zelena's told us, they don't know she can use her magic. Well, magical control tends to fray under stress and, while I don't have any first-hand experience to go by, I'm willing to bet that going into labor—especially when you didn't have an inkling it was going to happen when you got up that morning—is liable to be pretty stressful. If she cuts loose before any sedatives have a chance to kick in, I'll need to do something. And if I look like the Blue Fairy, nobody ought to be surprised if I use a bit of magic of my own."

"Your magic won't look like hers, though," Cruella cautioned. "It'll be as different as, well, Light and Dark."

"I know," Ursula admitted. "But hopefully, the only people present for the birth will be her, me, and the doctor. Given the situation, I don't think the focus is going to be on whether my magic looks like smoke or light." She frowned. "It might not be a bad idea for me to disguise the two of you, though. If Regina catches wind of what's going on and shows up right when I'm casting something, she might notice the difference and realize what it could mean. So if she arrives at the hospital, it'll be up to the two of you to stall her as best you can."

"Got it," Lily nodded. "And once we have the baby?"

Ursula smiled. "We drive back here and break into the vault. At that point, it won't matter if Regina's intruder alarm goes off. By the time anyone shows up, we'll be long gone."


Rumple looked up when the bell over the shop door jangled a greeting. "Booth," he smiled, as August walked in holding a large reusable shopping bag by its handles.

"Hi, August," Henry called, looking up from polishing one of the glass countertops.

The former puppet smiled back. "I just came by to drop this off," he said, holding up the bag and pushing it toward Rumple. "I'm sorry it took so long to get everything right."

Rumple took the bag from him and reached inside. "I do believe you've outdone yourself, Mr. Booth," he murmured, as he pulled out the case and unlatched it. His eyes widened as he picked up one of the ships and examined it. "Astonishing," he proclaimed.

"I… hope you mean that in a good way," August replied, his chuckle making it plain that he wasn't actually doubting it.

"Oh, I do," Rumple assured him, as he turned to the safe on his wall and expertly dialed the combination. He counted off a number of bills, and then laid two more down atop the pile.

"That's not—" August started to say, but Rumple held up his hand to stave off any protest.

"While I certainly enjoy getting the better end of a deal, I think you've delivered a bit more than what we agreed upon some weeks back. As such, the initial terms are scarcely fair recompense for the work you've produced. I'm simply rectifying the shortfall." He shook his head. "Truthfully, I still think I'm underpaying you, but I suspect you'd be more than willing to offer a discount to a… friend?"

August blinked. Then his features relaxed in an easy grin. "Well, yeah. Especially if it'll get me more commissions down the road."

Rumple nodded, relaxing as he felt himself on solid ground once more. He understood business concessions and deals far better than he did friendship. And while he could recognize full well that the object he held in his hands smacked far more of the latter, it was easier for him to accept a gift when it was couched in the wrappings of the former. "I believe that I can assure you of that," he returned warmly.


After his disappointing encounter with Tiny, Killian was glad when Marco called him with some good news. "Grumpy, he showed me the plans for your ship," the handyman said. "I know he's applied to the mayor's office for the permit to cut the lumber. He should have her answer at the next council meeting. Now, I may not be a dwarf, but I know a thing or two about carpentry and dubbing." He smiled. "And me and hard work, we're old friends. If you want my help, and Leroy's amenable, I think I can save you three months. Maybe four."

Killian's eyes lit up. "Mate," he said warmly, "you've no idea how happy I am to hear that."

"Well, don't be too overjoyed," Marco cautioned. "The agreement you made with Leroy, that pays for him and his brothers. You want me," he waggled a finger with a warning smile, "I don't work cheap. But I think you know you get the quality you pay for."

"That I do, mate," Killian nodded. "Name your price."

Marco did. Killian considered for a moment. Then he nodded, his eyes scanning the garage workroom. Almost absently, he lifted a miniature clock down from a shelf."

"Ah… careful. That piece, she's fragile," Marco cautioned.

Killian smiled. "I can see that. But it's a fine piece of work. Yours?"

"Me and my boy's," Marco nodded.

"Well, exquisite as your embellishments are, I won't need all this swag and scrollwork on my vessel," the captain admitted. "But if you and your son can turn out pieces like this, I suspect you're quoting me a more reasonable price than you might another man."

The handyman shrugged. "It's been a long time since I've been approached about a project like this. I must say I'm looking forward. If you'll allow me the opportunity."

Killian thrust out his hand and Marco took it, smiling. "I have a standard contract I use for commissions," the handyman added, as the captain released him. "I'll review it and have it ready for you to sign tomorrow. And meanwhile," he added, reaching down behind his work counter and coming up with a canvas bag, "my boy, when he found out that you were coming here, he asked me to give you this. He actually finished it a few days ago," he admitted, "but he's been looking it over, making sure it's as perfect as he can make it. He said I should get it out of here before he found something." He passed the bag over. "Take it home; look it over. And if you find anything wrong, bring it back tomorrow when you come to sign."

Killian smiled. "Doesn't sound as though there'll be much to find the way you're talking, mate, but I shall. And thank your son for me. I'm sorry I missed him."


The hospital was quieter on Saturdays, Lily reflected. Or, at least, on this particular Saturday. She'd been standing in the elevator for nearly two hours, while passengers traveled up and down from main floor to top, until someone finally inserted the steel key to take the car to the secure wing. She made her way down the hallway, her crepe-soled shoes barely making a sound. She'd trained herself to move as noiselessly as possible; there had been more than a few break-and-enters when the house she'd been targeting hadn't been nearly as empty as she'd thought. It paid off. She'd only been caught once, and really, it had been her own fault for not scoping out the place beforehand and realizing that the family in question owned a Labrador retriever pup, who had barked an enthusiastic welcome when it had discovered her in the master bedroom. She'd made it out the window, but after tumbling into the rosebushes below, she'd been in too much pain to do anything but stay there in agony until the cops showed up.

She wasn't caught this time.

"Zelena?" she called, not wanting to risk opening the pass-through.

An excited stage whisper returned her hesitant greeting. "Lily! You came back!"

Lily coaxed a smile into her voice. "Just couldn't keep away. Ursula might be the Sea Witch, but I'm the one who feels like a fish out of water around here. At least I can have a conversation with you without being called 'dahling' or feeling like I'm five again." Maybe she was laying it on a bit thick; Cruella's condescension wasn't anything she couldn't handle. But she was going to need to catch Zelena off-guard, and the more naïve, open, and vulnerable she acted now, the better her chances later."

Zelena laughed. "Sounds like your alliance isn't as rock-solid as you led me to believe earlier."

Lily let out an audible sigh. "What can I say? I've been going along with a lot of little things that bug me and it's getting to the point where they're adding up to one major pain in the…" She let her voice trail off. "Sorry. Not your problem."

"Oh, no," Zelena protested. "Don't stop there! Please, I haven't even got a television in here. At least tell me something entertaining."

And by 'entertaining,' she meant 'useful', Lily thought cynically. Still, she couldn't keep her tongue too closely guarded, not if she wanted to earn the witch's trust. And if Zelena was looking for entertainment, well Lily had enough stories of Cruella to fit that bill and let her do a little venting besides. Beginning with their first meeting…


Rumple had almost forgotten what it was like having a small child about. He'd set Aggie to finger-painting, waiting until she seemed absorbed in her work before resuming his own duties. He'd been going through his ledger, checking who might still owe him back rent, though he had no pressing need to collect it, when he felt a firm tug on his suit jacket.

Startled, he looked down into a pair of wide brown eyes. "Yes, Aggie?"

"I hafta go to the bathroom."

Rumple nodded. "Of course. Come. I'll show you where it is."

There was now a violet spot near the hem of his jacket; Aggie had clearly been mixing the red and blue paints together. He pressed his lips together and reminded himself that the paint was water soluble. No real harm done.

"I don't wanna paint anymore," Aggie announced when she emerged. "Can I watch a video?"

Rumple sighed. "I'm afraid I've neither player nor videos here, dearie. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Aggie said at once. "You got books?"

Rumple raised an eyebrow. "Can you read, then?"

Aggie shook her head. "Not yet, but I know my ABCs. Almost," she added, ducking her head. "But you could read."

Rumple considered. "Well, I don't have any books here at the moment. Not any that would interest you. But I can ask Belle to bring several with her when she joins us."

"When will she get here?" Aggie asked.

Rumple checked the time. "I should think it would be within the next two hours."

The child groaned. "Two hours? That long?"

Rumple shook his head wistfully. When one had lived for over two centuries, two hours were fleeting. But Aggie had not. "Tell me," he said, "what is it you do all day when your brothers and sisters are at school?"

Aggie shrugged. "Uh… I sing, I play, I sweep…"

"Ah. Well, there's a broom in the corner, if you'd care to sweep here."

Aggie glanced at it. "It's too big," she said. "Mine's not so heavy and the stick part's shorter. Mama calls it a wish-broom."

"A whisk broom," Rumple corrected with a faint smile. "A wish-broom would be a fine thing, though. A good deal more convenient than a wishing star, wouldn't you say?"

Aggie shrugged again. "I don't got one of those either. I'm bored."

"Well, we can't have that," Rumple replied. "You were telling me that you sweep. Have you ever tried your hand at polishing?"

Aggie shook her head. "Sometimes, if the spoons an' forks just have some spots on 'em, Mama lets me rub 'em with toothpaste, but if that don't work, Cis hasta use hot water and soda and if they're really bad, they need the smelly stuff," she wrinkled her nose, "and Mama says I'm not old enough."

Tin flatware, Rumple thought to himself. Toothpaste, or a paste of hot water and sodium bicarbonate, could remove some tarnish, but for pieces in worse shape, something on the order of kerosene or turpentine would be warranted. "I had a different sort of polishing in mind, actually. Shall I show you?"

Aggie shrugged, but she went back willingly to the shop floor.

"You'd best cover those paints so they don't dry out," Rumple directed. "And bring them here; I'll put them aside for next time."

By the time Aggie complied, Rumple had a set of pewter serving dishes spread out on the floor behind the counter. "I like these," she said, stretching a hesitant hand toward a candy dish shaped like a scallop shell.

"They're serviceable enough," Rumple nodded. "But they've gone uncared for far too long. Before they can be offered up for sale, they'll require some restoration. So." He slid open a cabinet behind the counter and removed a sack of flour, a gallon jug of vinegar, and a salt canister. "This may be somewhat similar to that paste you mentioned your sister uses, however this one," he smiled, "won't be hot. No risk of scalding." So saying, he measured out two parts vinegar to one part flour in a plastic mixing bowl, stirring it to paste. "And since this is satin pewter," he murmured, "we'll need to make it a drop more abrasive." So saying, he added a small measure of salt to the mixture. "There. Now, Aggie, what I'd like you to do," he smiled, "is put these on," he handed her a pair of cotton gloves. I'm sorry that they're a bit large, but you'll need steel wool for this and it may cut your hands." He waited for Aggie to don the gloves. "Excellent," he smiled. "Now take this," he handed her the steel wool, "and use it to rub this paste all over the pieces."

"Everywhere?" Aggie asked.

"Well, perhaps not the bottom; we'll do that later. For now, just coat the rest—gently, mind—and let them stand. We'll wash it off after."

Aggie's gloved hand closed around the steel wool. "I never done this before," she said.

"Well, you shan't be able to say that after today. Here. I'll do one piece to show you how. Watch carefully, and then you try."

He waited until she'd done three pieces properly before he went back to his ledger, glancing up every now and again to ensure that she was still occupied.


Zelena gave Lily a commiserating sigh. "I'm beginning to see why you suggested that your abortive mace attack on my projection qualified as a win-win. I will admit to finding Cruella's antics amusing in small doses, but you're living with her."

And you're trying to manipulate me, Lily thought. Aloud, she said, "why do you think I came over here? Ursula's either working magic or hunting down ingredients and you're better conversation."

"Also in small doses," Zelena cautioned. "These corridors do get patrolled with a certain regularity and you oughtn't to risk our little chats being overheard. In fact, you'd best be running along before they come by with my lunch." She sighed. "Much as I adore green, I think they put real effort into making split pea soup as bland and unpalatable as possible."

Lily hesitated. "Maybe I could bring you something tomorrow," she suggested. "I don't know if I'm the greatest cook, but I could probably scrounge up some takeout."

Zelena's response was a laugh of sheer delight. "Well aren't you the perfect little godsend! I've been wishing for some of Granny's onion rings for some time now."

"Sure," Lily said at once. "I can bring them tomorrow."

"Not right before you arrive, mind." A canny note crept into Zelena's voice. "They're wonderfully fragrant when warm, but that fragrance will point a beacon directly to you. And possibly to me, if they follow it here. It'll raise questions. Get them an hour or so before you come; give them time to cool."

"Okay," Lily said, "but cold onion rings sound kind of…"

"Unappetizing?" Zelena finished. "Well, I suppose they are, compared to warm ones. But at this point, I'd much rather cold than none at all."

"Okay," Lily repeated. "Tomorrow, then."

"Can't wait."

As Lily made her way back toward the elevator, she murmured, "Neither can I."


Poseidon listened to his granddaughter's tale in comparative silence, interjecting only when Arial veered off on tangential topics to steer her back on course. When she was done, he shook his head in astonishment. "Your father never mentioned you'd taken up residence above," he managed. "And we have spoken a few times since your departure."

Ariel smiled nervously. "He did say that it might be better if you didn't find out," she admitted. "But you did ask, and I never could lie. Especially, not to you, Grandfather."

"I'm delighted to hear that," Poseidon replied tartly, hiding a smile of his own.

When one ruled the sea, it was inevitable that one would attract a certain number of fawners and sycophants. And he had recognized long ago the concerted efforts made by his court to shield him from matters that he would prefer not to hear. He'd made it clear to his ministers that such ploys would be tolerated only so long as they did not impinge on the security of his reign or of his realms. Thus far, he had every reason to trust that they were obeying his directive.

From the moment that his granddaughter had begun to speak, however, Poseidon had fallen in love with her complete and utter guilelessness. He well remembered her first state banquet. She'd been barely a fry then, far too young to stay up late, but when Triton had asked whether she might, at least, stay for the first course, Poseidon had allowed it. He'd been amused by her antics as she floundered about, occasionally able to swim a few strokes smoothly, but never for very long. And then, he'd attacked his first course—a salad made from no fewer than eight varieties of seaweed, seasoned with rice vinegar and sesame oil salvaged from a sunken merchant ship. Only to hear a small voice pipe up, "Mama says too much sesame oil is fattening."

There was a collective gasp from the courtiers in close attendance, as Poseidon set down his fork and focused his attention on the red-haired scrap of a mer-princess who was regarding him with wide green eyes that gazed at him, frank and unintimidated.

"Does she?" he asked, his tone betraying no hint of emotion.

Ariel nodded. "She says the seeds, too. But I like it anyway."

"As do I," Poseidon returned, picking up his fork once more.

"You eat it a lot?" Ariel persisted.

Poseidon tilted his head up at her once more. "I suppose it graces my menu often enough," he allowed. Truthfully, he'd never much thought about it. If he disliked a dish, he informed his cook and it was not served to him again. Otherwise, he knew that he could expect it on his table with some frequency.

"You're not scared you'll blow up like a puffer-fish?"

This time, the child's innocent question emerged during one of those inexplicable lulls in table conversation and carried clearly throughout the hall. And a horrified voice bellowed, "ARIEL!" Almost before the last syllable of her name had stopped echoing in the hall, Triton and his wife were genuflecting before him. Amphinoe was scooping up her daughter, wrapping a tailfin over the confused child's mouth, as Triton began apologizing for the girl's lack of manners.

Poseidon waved his hand imperiously and his son fell silent. For a moment, he regarded the three of them, two nervous, one puzzled—but still unafraid. His eyebrows knit together and he half rose from his throne, one hand clasped about the shaft of his trident for support—the throne had deep cushions, which made getting up from it with any amount of dignity rather difficult. He waited one moment longer.

Then he threw back his head and laughed.

Relief washed over the hall like a tidal wave on the surface.

Poseidon clapped his hands together. "Have my granddaughter seated beside me," he directed his chamberlain. "If I have to endure prattle this evening, I'd rather it be honest prattle."

Now, he smiled at that memory. "Tell me, granddaughter. The captain of the vessel on which my officers found you—do you know where he might be found?"

Ariel's face darkened. "I'm not sure I'd want to find him after what he did to me, Grandfather." Her face flushed and she ducked her head apologetically. "But if I did," she went on hastily, "the last time I saw him, it was in the ocean between the Enchanted Forest and Arundel. I don't know if he's still there now. When I was in Neverland, I heard from some of our people there that he'd lived there too at one point." Her eyes opened very wide. "Or maybe…"

"Ariel?"

She hesitated. "Grandfather, have you ever heard tell of a Dark Curse?"


Henry had been correct, Rumple reflected, as he watched the afternoon's rehearsal-cum-recital. Cecily had quite the talent for acting. The youths were all coming along rather nicely, but Cecily didn't seem to step into her part, so much as let it settle about her like a comfortable cloak. And, he noted, despite the family responsibilities that Henry had mentioned, it wasn't lost on Rumple that Cecily had most of her lines already memorized—a feat the others had yet to accomplish.

"They're talkin' 'bout pudding again," Aggie said. "Is it suppertime yet?"

Rumple smiled down at her. "Not quite," he admitted. "And I'm afraid it will have to be something other than pudding for you when it is."

Aggie shrugged. "The mac-and-cheese was okay. But if I come next time, can I get pudding?"

"Well," Rumple murmured, trying to devote equal attention to the young players before him and the child seated on his display counter—whose rubber-soled shoes were kicking scuff marks into the glass he'd painstakingly polished an hour earlier, "I doubt that your mother would approve of my serving you nothing but pudding for dinner. But I shall endeavor to have some for you for dessert, if you like."

Aggie nodded eagerly. "Sometimes mama makes one with apples and raisins for special."

"I see," Rumple said, his expression solemn. "And next week will be… special?" he asked, fixing her with penetrating eye.

Undaunted, Aggie nodded again. "If you're getting me pudding, it'll be special," she assured him.

It was a good thing that the play before him was a comedy, because Rumple couldn't quite suppress his guffaw. And he only felt a momentary twinge of guilt when he saw Henry flash Nicholas a quick smile of relief, clearly under the impression that his grandfather had been laughing at one of the lines in the play.

He slipped Aggie one of the picture books that Belle had brought and resolved to give the remainder of the performance his full attention.


Whale planned to work the early shift at the hospital the next day. He'd met someone the other night at the Rabbit Hole and he was hoping to see her again that evening. Maybe this time, he'd be able to snag her phone number. Or better yet, her name! He was out the door and just locking up when he heard a raspy breath behind him and something like a dark cable whipped about his torso, pinning his arms to his sides. He had time to release a strangled gasp, before another tentacle plunged into his chest and yanked out his heart.

"Go back inside the house, doctor," a voice as hoarse as it was cold intoned. "Call the hospital. Tell them you're taking the day off, unless there's an emergency. Then stay inside until they call you back. Forget this incident. Forget I was ever here."

The tentacles withdrew and Whale immediately unlocked his door again, sparing neither glance nor thought for their owner. He hung up his coat once more in the vestibule, dutifully made the phone call, walked into his living room and turned on the TV, channel surfing until he found a talk show that sounded halfway interesting. A moment after he sank down into his sofa cushions, he forgot that he'd ever gone outside at all that morning.


Granny Lucas looked the adolescent girl up and down. "Haven't seen you around much before," she said gruffly.

"Yeah," the girl replied, ducking her head slightly. "I… uh… just came over with the last curse, I guess. Still getting used to stuff."

The older woman's face relaxed in a thin smile. "Well. Welcome to Storybrooke. What can I get for you this morning?"

"Is it too early for onion rings?" she asked hesitantly.

"Just a bit," Granny said. "They're more of a lunch thing around here, and on Sunday, we serve breakfast until eleven."

The girl sighed. "I was afraid of that. I've got a test this afternoon I'm cramming for. I won't be able to come back later."

Granny was silent for a moment. Then she shook her head. "Oh, well. I guess we can turn on the deep fryer a little early today." She frowned. "You know they'll get cold fairly quick, right?"

Smiling, Lily affected a shrug. "That's okay. They're almost as good that way. Oh, uh, could I get some ketchup packets, too?"

Granny gave her a brisk nod. "Comin' right up."

Lily's smile widened. "Perfect…"