Chapter 37

It really was amazing how completely a tidal wave of guilt and worry could sweep away stubborn anger. White-faced, Emma looked from her mother to Killian to Gold. "I… On the way home, when I asked you…" she began.

"I told you the truth then," Gold said after a moment, when Emma didn't continue.

"I believe you," Emma nodded. "But is there something else you can tell me now? I mean, do you know anything about what might have happened?"

Gold sighed. "Beyond what's likely already passed through your mind? That," he turned to Snow, "when your conversation with your husband was cut off, it was likely due to Regina losing control of the car? No."

Emma took a deep breath. "So, apart from their having been 'nearly home', which could mean anything from 'almost at the town line' to 'Boston city limits', there's no way to figure out where to start looking."

Snow gaped at her. "You're going after them?"

"Someone has to," Emma said.

"But the town line. Emma, if you can't find them… Regina has the scroll. You won't be able to get back!"

"So, let's hope I do," Emma replied. "I mean, what other choice have we got?"

Snow's face seemed to crumple. "I know," she whispered. "I know. But if anything…" She choked. "I-I don't want to lose both of you."

For the first time in over two weeks, Emma enveloped her mother in a hug. Then she looked at Gold once more. "Is there… is there some spell you can work that might help me pinpoint their location?"

Rumpelstiltskin shook his head. "No. But," he said slowly, "there is one that you can work. Always assuming," his glance flicked to Hook, "that neither the thief's foray nor your admirer's rampage extended to the necessary artifact…"

Despite the carnage that had been wrought on the shop floor, Emma was pleasantly surprised that the back room was more or less intact.

"Well," Killian muttered when Emma remarked on it, "I wasn't about to destroy anything with the potential to return the favor. And we all know the crocodile wouldn't risk anything truly powerful out front."

Rumple didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he opened a cabinet and withdrew a large white sphere. It was tilted on a metal meridian, like the globe that had graced many a teacher's desk during Emma's school days. But instead of oceans and continents, this one was a featureless ball. Both Emma and Killian recognized it at once.

"That's how you tracked Henry to Neverland," Emma breathed.

Rumple nodded. "And earlier, Bae to New York." He locked his eyes on Emma. "It allows the spell-caster to locate another member of their family line. Unfortunately, I've no blood tie to any of the missing," he added. "But you do."

Emma's eyes widened. "Okay. So, how do I make this work?"

Rumple indicated the spike at the tip of the meridian, where the North Pole would have been located on a globe. "Prick your finger and let a single drop of blood fall on the ball. Wait." He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a sealed bag of cotton swabs. "Let's not overtax your healing abilities, shall we?" Without waiting for a response, he unscrewed the bottle cap, poured a small measure of alcohol into it, and tilted it over the spike. "Use a swab for your finger," he advised.

"Uh… thanks," Emma said. She was about to comply, when she felt cool smooth steel slide about her wrist.

"Wait," Killian said. "Dark One, you haven't yet named your price for allowing her to use that little bauble of yours. What cost do you mean to exact for this favor?"

Rumple blinked. Then a faint, self-deprecating smile sprang to his lips. "Do you imagine, Pirate, that at this point, there could be any possible way that the savior might be in my debt?" he asked softly, incredulously. He nodded to Emma to proceed.

Wide-eyed, Emma nodded back. She'd never thought herself particularly squeamish, but she closed her eyes as she placed her index finger on the spike and pressed down, sucking in her breath as the metal point penetrated. It stung for a moment, but Emma suspected that it was more from the alcohol than the spike. She opened her eyes, saw her mother looking at her with concern, and nodded that she was all right. Then she shook her finger over the globe until a droplet fell.

"Whoa…" she breathed. Where the blood landed, the outline of a coast took shape and a single line darkened, spread, and stopped.

"Have you a map?" Killian asked, his voice strangely devoid of rancor. "It doesn't appear as though they're far away."

Wordlessly, Rumple laid a road map of New England down on the table. Killian unfolded it. A moment later, he smiled. "They're not even two miles from the town line," he said, jabbing his finger at the map.

"And," Rumple added, "we know that your father, at least, is still alive."

Emma sucked in her breath. "I guess I'd better get going, then. And let's hope Regina still has the scroll."

"Wait," Snow said. "If they're hurt… you're going to need an ambulance. Maybe a tow truck. I…" Her face went even paler. "Oh. Oh… no," she whispered.

Emma closed her eyes. "If Regina doesn't have the scroll, then whoever goes out after them… won't be able to come back." She took a deep breath and opened her eyes once more. "All right. All right. I still have to go out there. At least, I know how the rest of the world works and if I have to get them into a hospital in… in…" she struggled to remember a couple of the place names she'd seen on the road, "Sacco or Augusta, then that's what I'll do." She laid a comforting hand on her mother's arm. "It's not the first time there's been a problem with the town line. Probably won't be the last either." She took another breath. "The most important thing is finding them and making sure that if they need medical care, they get it. We can worry about how to get back here afterwards."

Snow nodded slowly. Then her eyes opened wide. "Emma… how many people can fit in your bug?"

"There are only three of them, right?" Emma said. "Well, three and a chicken and I can put Billina in the trunk, if it's just two miles."

"But if one or more is injured," Rumple said slowly, "I'm not certain that your back seat would be an ideal option."

Emma thought about that and nodded reluctantly. She didn't know much about emergency first aid, but she was willing to bet that even if it was only for a couple of miles, trying to squeeze an injured person into the back seat of a two-door was going to be dangerous. And if more than one of them was injured?

"Could you get me an ambulance?" she asked dubiously.

Snow shook her head with a horrified expression on her face. "Sleepy wrecked one of our two ambulances last week," she whispered. "That leaves us with only one in working order. If it can't come back over the town line and there's an emergency, then…"

"Okay," Emma said. Okay. "First things first. I'll cross the town line in my car and see how… how they're doing. Best case scenario, everyone's okay, Regina has the scroll, and they're just… stuck in a snow bank and, I don't know, Dad's phone cut out at the worst time. I dig them out, we come back, everything's fine. Anything other than that… as long as Regina has the scroll, we can dispatch emergency services to bring everyone back over the line."

"And if she doesn't?"

Emma took a deep breath. "Then, I guess I'm stuck on the other side with them. And…" she hesitated, "I guess everyone else needs to decide whether to join us or stay put."

Snow nodded slowly, realizing what Emma meant. If Regina didn't have the scroll, then she, David, and now, Emma would be trapped outside the town. Henry would doubtless want to follow his mothers. And Snow knew that she would accompany him. She'd meant what she'd said earlier: she wouldn't lose her husband, her daughter, and now, most likely, her grandson, all on the same day. Her gaze flicked to Rumpelstiltskin, who was carefully writing something on a notepad and she felt a pang.

"If they can't get back," she said to him softly, remembering that Henry was Rumpelstiltskin's last blood relation, "if Henry goes with them, you'll—" You'll be all alone was what she meant to say, but she choked off the words, realizing that he'd almost certainly shut her down, rather than risk displaying any vulnerability in front of Hook.

She was wrong.

Rumple looked up then, and Snow took an involuntary step back as the pain in his eyes seemed to stab through her. But when he spoke, his voice was calm, almost nonchalant, as he thrust the pad he'd been writing on at her. "Might I have your signature, please, Mrs. Nolan?" he asked formally.

"What is this?" Snow asked, taking the pad. Her eyes widened. On the ruled page, in a clear round hand, were the words:

Last will and testament. I, Rumpelstiltskin, being of sound mind…

It wasn't long and it wasn't detailed. It simply named Archie Hopper as his executor and divided his assets evenly: one third to Belle, one third to Henry, and one third to be held in trust by Archie and administered to those he'd wronged in the past, allocated as the psychiatrist saw fit.

She looked up. "I-I don't understand."

"Don't you?" Rumple asked quietly. He was reaching his hand into what appeared to be a solid wall. "You're aware of my… condition. By now, you surely must know of the danger I present to the town, even if I've been able, thus far, to set aside my original plan for your daughter." He withdrew a metal strongbox with an ornate clasp. As he pressed his palm to it, there was a faint shimmer of orange fire. Then the lid sprang open to reveal stacks of hundred dollar bills. He scooped up several without counting them and tucked them into his jacket.

Snow blinked. "Emma?" she asked. "What… what is he talking about?"

Emma shook her head and pretended not to see Gold's start of surprise when he realized that she hadn't mentioned anything to anyone about the ink and what would be required for it. "Not important. Gold? What are you doing? What's that money for?"

Rumple gave her a sad smile. "I'm going with you, dearie." For once, there was real affection in the endearment. He held up a hand to stave off her protest. "If I die in Storybrooke, then the Dark One takes over. If I die out there… so does he. I thought that between your influence and Booth's, I might be able to balance his… pull. Perhaps, I could. Perhaps, I can. But I fear that one of you cannot suffice." He shook his head. "After all, if Belle's love couldn't vanquish my darkness once Bae was lost to me…" He stared at the ground for a moment. Then he lifted his head again and met her eyes squarely. "If you leave town… In the event that you find yourself unable to return, then it's safer for all concerned if I'm on the other side of that orange line as well. Besides," he added, "should matters not be as bleak as you fear, should Regina indeed have the scroll, then pragmatically speaking, it will be easier to get an injured party into the back seat of my car than yours."

"But—"

"Savior," Rumple's voice was gentle, "are you certain you've time to argue? Can your father wait for your attempt to talk me out of the best possible solution?"

Hook frowned. "This… selflessness isn't much like you, Crocodile. Not usually. What's your game, I wonder?" But though his words were suspicious, his tone was softer and lacked the bitter edge it usually possessed when directed at Rumpelstiltskin.

Rumple flushed. But when he spoke, his voice was steady. "The town needs its ambulance. As for a tow truck, I daresay the Zimmer twins need their father. But tell me truthfully, all of you: in my absence, before I made the telephone call that brought you," he looked at Emma, "and the others to New York," did anyone truly miss me?"

Snow shifted uncomfortably in place. Killian looked away. Emma closed her eyes. "That was then…" she started to say.

Rumple shook his head. "I'm hardly blaming you," he remarked. "I'm merely confirming what I already suspected. You see, while I might need this town, or at least its magic," he shook his head, "the truth is, it doesn't need me. In fact, if you'll recall, the last time I did it any real good was… well, when I died. Since my return from that state, I've meticulously managed to undo every decent thing my death accomplished. Perhaps, this will reverse the trend. Or… perhaps, history will repeat itself." He smiled sadly. "While it's true that villains don't get happy endings, I suppose I can settle for 'meaningful', if I must."

He felt a strong pressure on his hand and realized that Snow was squeezing it with unexpected ferocity. He patted it gently with a bemused expression which quickly turned serious once more. "So," he continued," if you'll do me the favor of witnessing that document?"

Snow bit her lip. Then she nodded and fumbled for the pen he'd laid down carefully on the table. As she pressed tip to paper, Rumple's eyebrows shot up as though something else had just occurred to him. "Before I forget," he added, "there is one old account I'd best settle with you now, as an opportunity may not present itself later." So saying, he reached into his suit jacket pocket with his free hand and pulled out a small embroidered silken pouch.

"What's this?" Snow asked faintly, as she took it and handed him back the pen.

Rumple was smiling. "Oh, let's call it something to remember me by. Hopefully with a bit more fondness than you did when last you saw it. Though, as I believe there's been quite enough emotion publically displayed for one day, perhaps it'd be wisest to wait until we've departed before you open it." He glanced at Emma.

"Savior," he added, as he replaced the strongbox in the wall. "Time's wasting."

"Uh…yeah," Emma said vaguely. "Yeah." She quickly pulled, first her mother, and then Killian into an embrace. "We'll be back," she said.

She locked her eyes on Gold's. "Both of us."

Gold shook his head but his smile was tolerant. "Well, perhaps. Come."

As the bell over the front door jangled and the heavy door shut behind the savior and the Dark One, Hook moved to the wall to examine the spot from which Rumple had taken the strongbox. Though he ran his hands over the entire area, he found no weak spot, nor any indication of a hollow space beyond. Meanwhile, Snow worked open the knot in the drawstring securing the pouch. When her late mother's pearl-and-diamond choker spilled into her hand, she gasped. And then, the tears she'd somehow managed to hold back until now broke free and coursed unashamedly down her cheeks, as she squeezed it tightly and held her hand up to her throat.

There were cartloads of books to shelve in the library. Not only had Belle departed with Emma and August leaving several full book trucks behind, but in her absence, it seemed as though everyone in Storybrooke had decided to place their returns in the after-hours book drop at once. They probably had, she realized; books were loaned out for two weeks at a time. Still, it seemed as though nobody had taken advantage of the telephone or computer renewal systems.

Much as she rolled her eyes, she didn't really mind. Losing herself in work was probably the best thing for her. Shelving books might be monotonous, but it did require a certain amount of focus to ensure that every book went to its proper place on the shelf. She wondered how much headway she might have made last night at the convent, had the books been scattered about in disorder. Well, she was going back tonight, and hopefully everything was either where it belonged or where—at Tink's urging—she'd left it. She had to keep searching. Rumple's life depended on it.

The door flew open and Snow and Killian burst inside. "Belle!" Snow breathed. "Do you need a lift to the town line?"

Startled, Belled took a step back. "Th-the town line? Whatever for?"

"Rumpelstiltskin didn't call to tell you?" Snow exclaimed. "He and-and Emma, they're… David and Regina are…" She gave up. "Come on. I'll tell you on the way."

Snow had made several phone calls before stopping by the library. By the time she, Killian, and Belle arrived at the town line, a small crowd had assembled. Emma and Gold were in deep conversation with Michael Tillman.

"Obviously," Tillman was saying, "it would be better if you had something with more horsepower, but even the basic winching kit," he gestured to the open hatch of Emma's bug, where the equipment sat, "is probably going to come in handy. If you need me to talk you through the process, you've got my number."

A young man in a paramedic uniform—Snow thought he worked at the cannery when he wasn't volunteering as an EMT—handed Gold a first aid kit. "Same here," he said. "Just because we won't be out there doesn't mean we can't help."

"Rumple!" Belle called. "Wait!"

She ran toward him as fast as her high-heeled boots would allow. Rumple gave her a sad smile, tinged with regret. "We've delayed long enough," he said gently. "We need to get underway." He hesitated. "If we're unable to return, you might want to pay a call on Dr. Hopper. He'll have something for you."

"Can't… can't you give it to me yourself?" Belle asked.

"I'm afraid it's not that sort of gift."

"Rumple…"

He sighed. "I told you before, Belle. There's nothing to forgive. Now, I must do this. Please."

Belle nodded. But then she threw her arms about him. "You'll be back," she whispered fiercely. "I know it."

Rumple closed his eyes and patted her hair. "Perhaps," he agreed. "But if not, you'll need to make your peace with that. As I already have." He gently disentangled himself from her embrace. "Goodbye, Belle," he said. But his voice hitched when he spoke her name. And as he climbed into his Cadillac, Emma saw a tear gleam in the corner of his eye. Then she hurriedly closed the distance between herself and her loved ones to make her own last goodbyes.

The first thing Emma did when she got into her car was put her phone on hands-free and call Gold. "I think we'd better stay in touch," she said when he picked up. "You check the left side of the road, I'll check right, and the first one to spot them says something."

There was a short silence. Then, Gold's voice, crisp and clipped as usual replied, "As you like."

"You know," Emma said slowly, "I was just thinking back to when I first came to Storybrooke. Henry'd run off again and trying to track him down led me to the school, where I met my mother for the first time—"

"Your point?" Gold cut her off. "Keep your eyes out for any sign of the others."

"I am," Emma said. "It'll probably be right at the highway junction. Anyway, I asked her about why she gave Henry the book and she told me it was because she wanted him to have hope. Because just believing in the possibility of a happy ending was a powerful thing."

"Still not seeing your point. Slow down," he added. "The sphere indicated a spot close by. We don't want to overlook it."

"Roger that. I was just saying that, when you don't believe something is possible, you… try to move on as best you can. You don't go aiming for something that can't happen. Or, at least, most of us don't. What I'm trying to say is, I didn't know about the scroll. I didn't think there was a way for you to come back, and so I didn't give myself time to think about whether I missed you, because I didn't think there was any use dwelling on it." She hesitated. "And, okay, I was still livid over your trying to trick me into the hat and then crush Killian's heart."

Gold snorted. "Well, I suppose that's understandable."

Encouraged, a smile sprang to her own face, as she continued. "The town isn't better off without you. I mean, even if it sometimes seems that way, without your help, the town—or a lot of the people in it—wouldn't be there now. I wouldn't be there. Here. Anywhere. I mean, if it weren't for you, my parents never would've got together, right?"

"Emma…" Gold's voice was gentle. "Thank—" Then, abruptly, "Pull over. I think I see something."

Michael Tillman was lounging against the side of his tow truck, his eyes fixed at the road beyond the town line. He couldn't see anything of interest, of course; the road curved sharply, nearly a mile off, but he watched still.

Despite his focus on the road and the breeze gusting past, he couldn't quite tune out the conversation going on behind him.

"How long until we know?" Belle was asking.

"I'm not sure," Snow responded. "But in about a half-hour, I'm going to have to go find Henry. He should probably hear about what's going on from me. And… I should probably hear as much as I can about the outside world from him."

"You're going after them," Belle said. "Aren't you?"

"If they can't come back to me," Snow replied heavily, "then I'm going to go to them. When we were in Neverland, it was harder."

"Sorry?"

Snow sighed. "David was dying of dreamshade poison. Killian knew the cure but it was tied to the island. Once David took it, he shouldn't have been able to leave."

"Then… how?"

Snow didn't reply for a long moment. When she did, there was a slight catch in her voice. "Rumpelstiltskin."

Michael was glad that his back was to the two women. He didn't think he'd have been able to hide the surprise on his face—clear evidence that he'd been listening to a conversation not meant for his ears.

"And… and what did he want from you in exchange?"

Snow took another moment to respond. "Nothing. I mean, he said something about how now that we were family, at some point we'd…" A note of horror crept into her voice, "…we'd be receptive toward doing him a favor if he needed it…" Her breath caught. "And we just thanked him and… forgot about it," she said in a voice so low that Michael had to strain to catch her words. "At least, I think we thanked him. And now, he's…"

Snow took another breath. "The point I wanted to make was that until your husband told us that he could create an elixir to cure David, I thought that I'd have to choose whether to stay with my husband in Neverland or join my daughter and grandson back in Storybrooke. Then, I chose David, even though losing the rest of my family was a decision that almost killed me to make. But now?" She exhaled noisily. "My husband, my daughter, and the stepmother who's become one of my closest friends are all on the other side of that line. My grandson is almost certainly going to want to join them and I can't blame him. This time, I don't have to choose between my husband and my daughter. It's between home and family. And if I don't have my family, then this isn't home. If Regina doesn't have the scroll," she concluded, "then Henry, Neal, and I are going over that line to be with the rest of our family. If anyone else wants to come with us, they're more than welcome. But I will not lose my husband or my daughter again."

Michael's cell phone started belting out "On the Road Again," startling him and he hurriedly pulled it out of his pocket. A moment later, he turned and shouted to the crowd at the town line, "They've found 'em!" Then he quickly went back to the call.

Regina's Mercedes was halfway down a ravine, its front end submerged in a snowbank. Skid marks and a broken guardrail told the story: Regina must have hit an ice patch and lost control, sliding to the opposite side of the road, and crashing through the metal safety fence. The sun was setting, casting glowing pink patches on the snow, but even in the fading light, they could see the car.

"I…" Emma threw a worried look over her shoulder at Gold, "I don't see any footprints leading away."

Gold's face was serious, but there was a faint note of cheer in his voice when he replied, "You also don't see any blood in the snow." When Emma didn't respond, he continued, "The car's doors are all shut. Had anyone been thrown clear, one might expect it to have been through the windshield or, perhaps, the rear window."

"You think they're okay in there?" Emma quavered. Her vision was blurring and her eyes were burning and she knew that this time she couldn't blame it on magicked contact lenses.

Gold's hand closed fiercely about her upper arm and Emma stiffened in shock. Then quickly, before he could remove it, she brought her other hand up to cover his. "I'm all right," she mumbled. The trouble was, she didn't sound all right.

"Savior," Gold's voice was steady, "look at the car's position. It's wedged deep in that drift. In all likelihood, the doors haven't been opened because they can't be. We'll need to dig them out." Then, more quietly, "At least, you will. I don't think my ankle is up for that descent."

Emma nodded. Then she took a deep breath. "Okay. Let's get that winching kit hooked up. Probably better if we hook one cable to each of our cars. I doubt my bug can handle it on its own and with that incline, I don't know if your caddy's up to it either. I'll climb down and attach the other ends to Regina's car. I can hold onto the cables on the way back up."

"Agreed," Gold nodded. "You'll need a shovel; I wasn't being facetious about the need for digging. If we're to haul that car free of the drift, it will be easier if the snow isn't packed so tightly around it."

"Okay. Do me a favor?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wondered whether they'd been the best choice. Asking Gold for a favor might be opening up a whole old can of worms. Before he could respond, she plunged ahead. "Call Tillman on your cell. Let him know what's going on. Wait. When you've got him and I'm at the car, conference us. He's probably the expert on this."

"Indeed," Gold nodded again. "Emma?" he asked hesitantly, but with a gleam in his eye, "if I do you this… favor…"

It took everything Emma had not to vent her frustration on him. "Yeah," she muttered. "I guess I'll owe you. Can we work it out after?"

"No," Gold returned. "I think it best not to leave things dangling. Particularly not when I already know what I'd like in exchange."

She'd been wrong. Now it was taking everything she had not to give him a sampling of her thoughts on extortion and blackmail and ingratitude and… And somehow, she managed to look him dead in the eye and say evenly, "And what would that be?"

Gold gave her a pained smile. "A caddy is a person I'd employ to assist me on the fairway if I ever chose to take up golf. My car is a Cadillac and I'd appreciate it if you'd refer to it as such from this point forward."

Startled out of her fury, Emma's mouth gaped open. "That's the favor you want from me?"

"With all my heart." His smile broadened. "Now, do you think you're in a better frame of mind to focus on the task before you?"

"What?"

Gold shrugged. "Fear has been known to paralyze a person into inaction on more than one occasion. In my experience a surge of anger can be useful at times for shaking free of it." He looked away. "Forgive me, dearie," he murmured. "I know what you must have thought, but it was the only thing I could contrive on the spur of the moment."

Emma blinked. Then she exhaled noisily. "Okay," she muttered with a slight eye-roll. "You win." She got the winch kit out of the bug and passed one of the rope lines to him. "Hook this one up to your Cadillac. And then, call Tillman."

She set about securing the second one to her own vehicle. Then she stopped. "Hey, Gold?" She waited for him to turn back to look at her before she grinned. "Thanks."

He wasn't used to explaining himself, but she'd earned it. He'd realized, of course, that she hadn't truly been demanding a favor of him the way so many had in the past. It had just been a slip of the tongue. But that alone had told him more than the savior realized.

She wasn't waiting with baited breath for him to revert. If she'd believed that he was still trying to deceive them into thinking he'd changed, while all the while, he was still plotting and scheming against them, she'd never have allowed words like 'favor' or 'deal' to cross her lips. Well, perhaps she might, if she were trying to make a too-obvious show of trusting him for some reason. But she wouldn't have made such a slip in casual conversation.

She didn't completely trust him yet, and he couldn't blame her. But if his little test had proved anything, it was that she was trying to. After everything he'd done or tried to do to her, she had every right to be on her guard. And likely, she couldn't help her initial suspicion. But she'd fought it. She wasn't looking to believe the worst of him. Even when he'd given her good reason to, she'd still given him the opportunity to clarify his intent instead of condemning him outright.

When she'd claimed that they were friends, she hadn't been trying to get some sort of free gift from him. She'd meant it.

And while he had no idea whether this state could last or whether, in the end, he'd manage to push her away as he did everyone else, here, at this moment, atop a ravine in the middle of the Maine wilderness, the expectation that she would ultimately come to abandon him didn't feel like a foregone conclusion.

He watched as the savior carefully navigated her way down the slope, holding tight to both cables with one hand, digging in with the shovel to keep her balance with the other. An unaccustomed smile came to his face. Then he pulled out his phone and quickly dialed the number Tillman had programmed in just before they'd crossed the town line.

The front of the Mercedes hung over a ridge, its sides partly submerged in the snow. Going by the deep ruts, Regina had tried to back out of their predicament, but her rear wheels had found no purchase and succeeded only in digging themselves in deeper. The car looked to be in decent shape, though. The paint bore fresh scratches, evidence of the bushes through which the Mercedes had hurtled, but Emma could see no serious damage. She started to make her way to the front of the car to peer in the windows, when she realized that it might be wiser to secure the winch first. Once the Mercedes' passengers realized someone was out here, they'd try to get her attention, if they were capable of it. And while she wasn't certain whether moving around inside the car's cabin might be enough to send it further over the edge, she didn't want to take that chance until she knew that the lines were secured.

Besides, she didn't know whether that ridge had anything solid underneath, or whether the car currently rested on a pile of packed snow that might fall away at any moment.

She'd just hooked up the first line when her phone buzzed. She yanked it out of her pocket. "Yeah?" she said, wedging it between her ear and her shoulder, as she set about working on the second line.

"Emma," Rumple's voice was steady, tightly controlled, and almost emotionless, "I've Tillman on the line."

"I'm here, Sheriff," Tillman confirmed. "What can you tell me?"

Emma quickly relayed what she was seeing. "Snow's not too tightly packed. I'm about to try digging them out," she added.

"Do you have anything solid you can hold onto?" Tillman asked. "A branch, for example? If you're right about that ridge being unstable…"

"I don't," Emma admitted. "If I had another rope, then maybe I could tie myself to the winch lines, but I don't."

"Okay, get back up to where Mr. Gold is. You're going to need to pull the car back up to the road."

"Won't we risk injuring the people inside?"

Tillman sighed. "If anybody's hurt in there, trying to get them out of a car poised to plunge off of a ledge and then pull them out of the ravine on foot isn't going to be great either. It's not like we can air lift them to safety."

"Sure, we can!" Emma shot back. "If this is life-and-death, I'm calling 911 out here and we'll get the help we need now and worry about coming from a town that doesn't show up on any state maps later."

"I believe that may be a bit premature, savior," Gold's voice cut through her plans sharply.

"Gold—" Emma warned.

"Savior," Gold sounded as though he were smiling. "Turn around."

Before she could, Emma felt a light touch on her shoulder. She spun quickly. A moment later, she was flinging her arms about her father. "DAD!"

"They're okay!" Tillman called over his shoulder. "Mostly," he added. He turned to Snow. "Madame May—I mean, Mrs. Nolan, your husband is a little shaken up but okay. Zelena's the same."

"What about Regina?" Snow demanded.

A shadow seemed to fall across Tillman's face and Snow remembered suddenly that he had some past history with her stepmother that wasn't altogether pleasant. "Your husband couldn't examine her too well in the car, but he thinks she may have a couple of broken ribs from when her airbag deployed," he said and Snow wasn't sure whether there was sympathy or disappointment in the big man's soft voice. "He couldn't get to her phone to call for help and his got slammed around when the car went over and hasn't worked since."

"What about the scroll?" Belle came forward to ask.

Michael turned back to his phone to ask the question. It seemed to take far too long, though it was likely only a couple of minutes, before the reply came back.

"Yes, they have it!" he proclaimed.

Snow embraced Belle with a glad cry. Killian didn't join in, but the look of fierce joy on his face spoke volumes.

Lachlan, the volunteer EMT motioned to a dark-skinned woman wearing the same uniform he was. "Guess we're up," he said.

"You're going over the line, mate?" Hook asked, not sounding very surprised.

The woman gave him a professional smile. "Trying to get an accident victim out of a car when you don't know what you're doing can cause further damage. We do know. And with the scroll, we can get back."

"Stay in contact," Tillman nodded after he'd passed on the information to Emma and the others on the other side.

At that moment, a florist's van pulled up and Henry Mills, Granny Lucas—with baby Neal in her arms—and Moe French spilled out. Amid their welcoming shouts of "Grandma!" "Mrs. Nolan!" and "Belle!" Snow's voice rang loud and clear with indignation.

"Tell me you did not just have my grandson riding in your van without his seatbelt!"

Emma tried not to worry about Regina as she watched, first her father and next, Zelena make their way from the car up the embankment, each holding onto the tow lines. She cast another look at the Mercedes and began her own ascent. Above her, she could hear sirens and, for a moment, she wondered whether they were coming from Storybrooke or some other part of the state. Then she remembered hearing something about ambulances not engaging their lights or sirens until they were actually taking a patient to the hospital—and sometimes, not even then. This had to be Storybrooke's volunteer EMT people advising that they were here to help. Emma breathed a sigh of relief and continued climbing.

As she neared the top, she saw Gold clasp David's right hand in his, while clamping his left about David's forearm and helping him onto level ground. She grinned broadly for a moment. Then she realized that it was Zelena's turn.

She stiffened slightly, but moved upward, one hand holding fast to the line, the other reaching out to nearby branches and sharp rocks for support as she watched the witch ascend. There was a small smile on Gold's face as he extended his hand once more and Emma saw his lips part as though he was about to speak. But before he could say whatever he was about to, Zelena seized his outstretched hand, twisted, yanked him over the embankment, and let go.

"GOLD!" Emma shouted. Even if he missed the branches—and especially, those rocks—the fall might… She released her grip on the rope and lunged sideways for him.

Everything became a blur. She saw Gold's brown eyes, wide with terror, his mouth open for a shriek she was never certain afterwards that she heard over the rushing of the wind and her own blood pounding in her ears. Then his weight crashed into her and they slid down several yards, before Emma was able to snag the trunk of one of the bushes in a gloved hand. Whip-like branches lashed her face and there was a wrenching pain in her arm, but her other arm was wrapped around Gold, her legs were wrapped about his knees, and his forehead was pressed into her collarbone. It took her a moment to realize that they'd stopped sliding. "Gold?" she murmured. "You okay?"

A faint whimper escaped him. Then he lifted his head. His eyes widened. "Emma. Y-you—" Then he seemed to realize his surroundings or, more to the point, the position in which he was lying and the anxious faces peering down from the top of the embankment, and he whispered, "I think you'd better release me, savior, before the town gossips acquire some new fodder."

"What?" A rueful smile spread Emma's lips. "Oh. Uh… give me a second." It took almost ten before her legs obeyed her and her ankles uncrossed so that he could slide off of her. "You okay?" she repeated.

He nodded. "I think so. Thanks to you." His expression grew troubled. "I don't see my cane," he said slowly. "I fear I may have lost it in the tumble."

"Well," Emma said slowly, trying to sit up, "maybe we can make it back up together. If not, there are EMTs here. We'll get back up to the road somehow." She frowned. Her fingers didn't seem to want to let go of the bush they were clinging to. "Even if this tree has to come with us."

"Here," Gold crawled toward her and began gently prying her fingers loose.

"Thanks." She remembered something else. "Your dagger. Did Zelena—?"

"I doubt it," Gold said with a thin smile. "It's useless to her out here and I can't imagine she'd think I wouldn't notice it missing before we crossed back into town." He uncurled her last finger helped her into a sitting position, before he reached into his coat. "Yes," he nodded, pulling it out. "Still…"

His jaw dropped.

"Gold?"

Wordlessly, he extended the blade so that she could see it clearly. This time, there was no possible way to dismiss things. It wasn't some trick of the light. It wasn't their imagination. The second 't' shimmered black on the blade, contrasting with the silver metal behind it, nearly as dark as the ten letters that preceded it.

Emma clasped his free hand tightly in her own. "Let's get you back to town," she said with a wide grin.

Gold gave her a quick, instinctive nod, followed almost immediately by a slow, hopeful smile of his own.

And once again, Emma thought she heard her mother's words echo in her mind: Just believing in the possibility of a happy ending…