A/N: References: S4:E18, "Heart of Gold" and S5:E7, "Nimue".

Chapter 49

"Well don't review your will just yet," Emma said, smiling. "We saved the good news for the end. Regina's heart isn't as Dark as it used to be."

Gold's eyebrows shot up. "I suppose that's a reason for her to celebrate, but while I'm happy for her, you'll pardon me if I don't crack open the bottle of Dom Perignon I've been keeping in the safe in the back for the right occasion."

"Have you checked yours?"

Gold affected a slight chuckle. "While another letter's come back on the dagger as of yesterday," he said, "I'm not so naïve as to think that the damage done to my heart is so easily repaired." He shook his head. "I'd known for some time that there was a problem. I was using magic to combat the deterioration, foolish though it was. Once I was outside Storybrooke, cut off from access to the spells I'd come to depend upon to stave off the inevitable…"

"I had no idea," Belle said, stricken.

Gold shook his head. "I never gave you reason to suspect that anything was amiss," he murmured. "Even I didn't realize how grave my condition was until my collapse."

"Maybe," Emma said slowly, "you ought to check it anyway. When you get home tonight, if you'd rather do it in privacy."

"No need for that," Gold said reaching into his chest. "Regina marked the undamaged portion; it's a simple enough thing to…" His jaw dropped.

"Rumple?" Belle asked.

"But she outlined it precisely," Gold whispered. "I-I watched her. And yet…" He extended the heart toward them so that all could see.

There was a faint flickering ring of magic surrounding the small sliver of his heart that wasn't dark. And there was a narrow red circle—not much wider than an eighth of an inch, but still plainly visible—around that ring.

"It's grown, hasn't it?" Emma breathed. "The undamaged part?"

"I-I don't know," Gold said nervously. "It's possible that there are ebbs and flows with this sort of thing. It could be that tomorrow, the patch will have shrunk."

"Has that ever happened before?" August asked. "Where the Dark portions receded temporarily?"

"I don't know," Gold snapped. "It's not something I've checked on a daily basis."

"Maybe…" Belle suggested, "maybe that's something you could try for a week?"

Gold looked frantically from one face to the next. Finally he gave a slow nod. "Yeah," he muttered. "Okay."


He was used to playing long games, extending loans and favors against a time when he'd need to call them in. If he didn't always hold all the cards, as the old cliché had it, he usually had an ace or two up his sleeve. Fate didn't always smile on him, and when it did, it was seldom for long, but he prided himself on knowing which way the wind blew and on positioning himself to take his best advantage. He might have tried to circumvent the rules, or invent new ones, but he'd always thought he knew how the game was played.

Now, he felt as though an earthquake was taking place beneath him, shifting ground he'd believed to be solid and throwing everything he'd taken as unwavering fact into chaos. He was scrambling and scrabbling, trying to make sense of it all and, disturbingly, becoming aware that the forces he'd let in long ago and trusted to protect him were now trying their utmost to keep him from true understanding. Instead, the Darkness whispered at him, mocking his hopes, telling him that the others—it would not call them 'friends'—were, at best, misguided and, at worst, taking advantage of his credulity for their own ends.

Usually, it was his own worst self that he dealt with. This time, though, he saw her. Skin of teal, not quite as mottled as it would become in later Dark Ones, green eyes that radiated amusement, and a voice that was soft and gentle, with merely the faintest ghost of the mockery that his own Darker self favored so. "I just thought I'd reach out to you," she said cordially, "seeing as you were trying to get hold of me earlier. I suppose it's been so long since anyone did that I've grown used to my solitude."

"Nimuë," he breathed.

"In the spirit, if not the flesh," she confirmed.

He took a breath. "Is it true?" he demanded. "About the hat? About my fate?"

Nimuë looked disappointed. "I'd think you'd have had the wisdom not to ask that. Say it is. Well, I'm scarcely about to admit it and have you singlehandedly thwart the goal that every Dark One between me and you has striven to realize. Say it's not. You've been one of us for… two centuries? More?" She shrugged. "You know you won't believe a word I say, truth or lie. I could swear to you by all I've ever held dear that Emma and the others are mistaken, and that survival instinct of yours will still clutch at those remaining straws. Or threads. Whatever it is you spin these days." She sighed. "Questioning someone is pointless when you won't believe the answers you'll receive. But," she smiled at his dismay, "I will give you one free piece of advice. Think of it as fair repayment for your years of service."

Her skin smoothed and took on a more natural color. A smattering of freckles bloomed on her cheekbones. And her smile was less malevolent than it had been a moment ago. "This isn't coming from the Darkness, but from the woman who was first to recognize and accept what it offered. Rumple," she said softly, "you, more than anyone, understand what it's like to be powerless to protect those you love. I was the gentlest of creatures until Vortigan came. He slaughtered every man, woman, and child in my village, save for me. And then, he burned the only home I'd ever known to the ground. I was in the woods nearby, foraging and returned just in time to witness what he'd done. Rage and terror froze me where I stood. He turned and saw me and…" Bitterness dripped from her voice, "He turned his back and mounted his horse. I was nothing to him. Not even worth the minimal strength it would have taken for him to lift his blade and send me to my people. And then the Darkness showed me what it could make of me and I tasted of its gifts, much as you did later. And I was no longer nothing. And I regret nothing. Rumple, do you truly not understand what you'd be giving up, even if Emma and Belle are right? Without magic… You'll be right back where you started. The village coward, hated and derided by all, overlooked and ill-thought-of even before you hobbled yourself on the battlefield. Scorned by your wife. Knowing that it was just a matter of time before the son you loved would feel ashamed that he was of your blood, much as you were shamed by your father's. Rumple…" and now, he saw her truly as she once had been, before Vortigan had taught her how to hate, "Rumple, do you truly want to go back? To being nothing?"


Belle was waiting outside the hospital when Regina made her way through the main doors. The mayor raised an eyebrow as her eyes met the librarian's. "I can't quite tell if you have good news or bad," she murmured.

Belle sighed. "Like what we had for Rumple, I suppose it's a bit of both." She quickly described what Rumple's heart had looked like. Regina's eyes widened.

"It hasn't even been a week," she said incredulously. "And you said there's another letter back on the dagger, too?"

"I didn't see it," Belle admitted, "but I can't think why he'd be lying about it. And if his heart is lightening, I don't know that I need to see the dagger to believe his name is returning as well."

Regina shook her head, more in wonder than in disbelief. "First I find out that I can use magic to hack a federal database, and now this. If it was just a question of pharmacology, I could name you dozens of roots and leaves and berry juices that crop up on ingredient lists for various healing potions. But using a medical ailment as a basis for treating a magical one…" She took a breath. "I suppose I didn't expect the laws of a Land Without Magic to be this… compatible with the rules with which I'm familiar."

She frowned. "So, what's the bad news?"

Belle shook her head. "I wish I could say that Rumple and I having a civil exchange was an improvement, but it isn't. The few times we've spoken since that night, he hasn't said a harsh word. He hasn't even raised his voice. But he won't let me back in and I'm afraid to push."

Regina sighed. "Giving advice to the lovelorn isn't my forte by any stretch. In my experience, though, time can be a healer. Of course, with Rumple being immortal and possibly pulling back from death's door, it may take more time than you think."

Belle winced. "And if he does give me another chance, I don't know if I'll bungle that one, too." Regina gave her a sharp look and Belle blinked. "What?"

"I'm just thinking," Regina replied with a shrug. "And wondering how often thoughts like that one must cross Rumple's mind. I didn't know half of what he'd been through until I read Henry's book." She gave Belle a penetrating look. "The two of you really aren't as different as some people might think. You might want to keep that in mind. If you get that other chance." She smiled. "I think I'm going to celebrate my release from the hospital with a cappuccino at Granny's."

Belle hesitated. "I… I'm not ready to go back there, yet," she murmured. "I'd better go see if there's anything else to be discovered at the mansion."

"You shouldn't let one embarrassing incident keep you away from a place," Regina called after her retreating figure. Belle stopped for a moment, but then hurried on, surprisingly steady on the snowy sidewalk, despite the four-inch stiletto heels on her boots. Wearing a mildly exasperated smile as she watched the librarian's figure grow smaller in the distance, Regina turned and made her way toward Main Street.


Rumpelstiltskin curled on the floor of the back room of his shop, nearly in the fetal position, eyes closed, hugging himself tightly. It was happening again. He was trapped here, powerless, and it was happening again.

Without magic, you are right back to where you started: the village coward.

He'd heard those words replay like an endless loop during those long months when he'd been forced to relearn what it was to live without power or freedom, to be completely helpless and totally at the whim and mercy of another.

No money, no influence, no land, no title, no power…

Nothing

A wave of despair washed over him and he shuddered. His magic was killing him. He knew it. He understood it. But without it…

You were a good provider. You were a good father, too. You brought up your son—and did a damned good job of it, despite all the strikes against you.

You're easy to talk to.

You kept your wife and son from begging in the streets.

You're not a monster.

Almost imperceptibly, some of his tension eased and the knot in his stomach began to unclench.

I love you. Always have.

And she still did, despite the extent to which he'd hurt her. Despite the extent to which she'd hurt him. Despite his always having been difficult to love, she'd managed it. And she wouldn't be trying to win him back now…

…If she didn't think he was still worth fighting for.

If she didn't see him as pitiful or pathetic.

If she—

More memories crashed over him. Hordor ready to take Bae away from him forcibly, demanding that Rumple demonstrate his fealty in the most humiliating way possible. Cora taking his love and using it to trick him into changing the terms of their deal. His father, blaming him for crushing his hopes and dreams. The others in his village mocking him for his limp and the cowardice that had created it. Making him feel as though…

…As though

Some people love to slap labels on other people. Coward, troubled kid, miser, trash… They just love telling you who you are. And you've got to punch back and say, 'No. This is who I am.'

"Go back to being nothing?" he murmured softly, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. His lips curled back in a snarl and he recoiled, as if he could truly distance himself from the seductive voice of the original Dark One.

"I. Was. NEVER Nothing!" As soon as the words escaped him, he knew that they bespoke a truth he'd never realized, never accepted, until now. Perhaps there had been times in his past when he'd had nothing, but a person's worth was more than the sum total of their possessions. With or without his power, he had worth and he had value. And no matter what anybody might claim, no soul—sinister or self-righteous—could take that from him.

"I was never nothing," he repeated, savoring the statement. And then, with a flash of insight, he opened his awareness once more, looked Nimuë in her disbelieving green eyes and said, almost gently, "And neither were you."

"Shut up!" she growled, but there was a desperate edge in her voice. "Shut up!"

"Make me, Nimuë," he challenged, scarcely believing the confidence that now suffused him. "If you can. If you're so powerful and I'm so inconsequential, then make me. You were the first of us. If you're still so steeped in power, it should be easy for you to force me to do your bidding. But you can't. You can only tempt me with illusion, stoke my fears, lend voice to my doubts, and then hold up a prize before me," his voice hardened, "and trust I'll be so desperate and dazzled that I won't see it's naught but rotting wood and rusting tin, with a gilt veneer that's already flaking away." He sighed and wished it hadn't taken him this long to admit what he now saw he must have known in his heart of hearts, almost from the beginning. "Sorry, dearie," he continued with a faint smile. "What you offer might have been good enough for me once. But I've expanded my horizons. I know what's real. And what you're promising… isn't." He shook his head. "And I believe you know it as well."

"And do you truly think that Fate will grant you anything more than I can?" Nimuë scoffed. "You've been a villain for a long time, Rumple. What makes you think your best efforts will net you any outcome but the obvious? Why not enjoy the time remaining, and give in? Do everything you never dared? Hold nothing back. Give everyone reason to remember you after you're gone."

Rumple smiled. "But don't you see? That's what I've been doing. Perhaps you're right, dearie. Perhaps this is too little too late. I don't know. But my heart hasn't failed me yet. And I'll not squander the scant currency I've acquired on the gaudy baubles you're dangling before me as though they were gems to grace a crown royal." He saw the shock register in the eyes of the first Dark One and sighed once more—not in despair, but with a strange sympathy for this woman, who had charted a path to her own destruction, but who could, perhaps, have turned from it, had she made the choice he was making now, the choice that had always been open for him if he'd only been open to seeing it. "Go away, Nimuë," he said with quiet regret. "I'm afraid that you no longer have anything I want."


Henry came into the shop at a run. "Sorry I'm late, Grandpa," he exclaimed breathlessly. "I thought I had time for—" He stopped. The shop was empty. But his grandfather wouldn't have left without locking up. He frowned, remembering something his mother had told him about her return to the Enchanted Forest. Regina had sealed her castle with blood magic, but since Zelena was her half-sister, she'd been able to get around it. At the time, Henry had thought that she still would have had to cast a spell, but he hadn't pressed his mother for details. Maybe no magic was necessary. Maybe the spell would just let in anyone with a blood tie to the spell-caster, unless otherwise specified.

Henry frowned. Grandpa wouldn't have left such an obvious loophole without either telling him at the start or leaving him a note. And if Grandpa had left a note… He'd have left it where Henry had been working last. Cautiously, he made his way behind the counter to the case of knickknacks he'd been polishing, when he heard a sound from the back office.

"Grandpa?"

Gold was curled up on the floor. He was breathing normally and seemed to be fast asleep, but there was no way that he'd willingly choose the floor if he needed a nap, especially since Henry hadn't swept the back office yet. Henry thought quickly. He had already jolted one spell-caster out of slumber recently—and nearly gotten himself incinerated in the process. And that spell-caster had been his mother. He wasn't about to risk waking his grandfather—even if Grandpa had been acting a whole lot warmer lately. He thought for a moment. If Grandpa needed help, Emma might be best able to convince him to accept it… But Regina would probably know what to do. And if Dr. Whale was needed, she could use her magic to teleport him to the shop in an instant.

He pulled out his phone and hit the speed-dial. "Mom? You'd better come to the shop now…"


"It's not his heart," Whale said tersely, without looking up. He was bending over Rumple, while Regina and Henry stood a few feet behind him. Regina had both hands on her son's shoulders.

"Then, what is it?" Henry demanded, a note somewhere between fear and anger in his voice.

"Henry…" Regina murmured.

"Don't tell me he'll be okay when you don't know what's going on!" the boy snapped. "Just tell me the truth!"

"The truth," Whale said in voice firm enough to slice through Henry's outburst of temper, "is that, as much as I'd like to tell you what the matter is, you're right. I don't know. His vitals are strong. His heart rate's a little fast, but nowhere near danger levels. His breathing was faster when I got here, but that's slowed down now, and his blood pressure's dropping into the normal range. Now, I'm going to keep monitoring in order to make sure that his vitals don't slide toward the opposite extreme, but from a medical perspective? It looks like he's recovering from whatever it was that got him this way without anything I'm doing."

He glanced over his shoulder for the first time. "Now, as much as I hate admitting it—and believe me, I do—I don't think there's a medical or scientific reason for his collapse. I can get him back to the hospital and run some more tests, but if this… whatever it is turns out to be magical, I don't think the tests are going to be of much use. And since magic falls well outside my area of expertise," he pursed his lips for a moment and suppressed his irritation, "perhaps your Majesty would like to take a look?"

Regina raised an eyebrow. Then she slowly released her son. "Call Emma," she told him. "And Belle, I suppose." She hesitated. "I'm guessing she's still Rumple's emergency contact?"

Whale nodded. "He set that up shortly after the first curse was broken and never got around to changing it."

Regina nodded back and gave Henry a penetrating glance. "Belle, too, then." Under her breath, she added, "If your optimism proves to be misplaced, she'd never forgive me for not giving her a chance to… Well. Never mind, that. Let's just hope it isn't."

She walked toward Rumple as Henry dug out his phone once more.


Rumpelstiltskin was floating. At least, he thought he was. He couldn't make out his surroundings, couldn't tell whether he was surrounded by water or air, although the fact that he seemed to be able to breathe suggested the latter. His head was light, his limbs were heavy, and he felt oddly relaxed, despite not knowing where he was or how to get back to where he belonged. And then, he felt as though he were rising, buoyed upwards by some gentle current. A cool wave—or breeze, perhaps—washed over his face. He became aware of a firm pressure squeezing each of his hands. He was lying on a bed and someone was patting his forehead with a soft cloth. His breath caught as he remembered the last time he'd awakened under such circumstances—and who had been holding the cloth that time.

"Rumple?" a familiar voice whispered to his right, as his eyes flew open. Then, more loudly, "Regina! Doctor Whale!"

"Gold," another familiar voice said to his left. "Everyone, he's waking up!"

And then, Whale was bending over him and Belle and Emma were releasing his hands, though he was aware of both women hovering close by.

"Do you know who you are?" Whale asked gently.

Rumple nodded. "Rumpelstiltskin."

"Do you know where you are?"

He swiveled his head to his right and to his left. "The shop," he murmured. A frown creased his face. "Or did you mean for me to answer 'Storybrooke'?"

"Grandpa!" Henry exclaimed.

Rumple smiled. "Henry."

Whale wasn't done. "He found you on the floor. Any idea how you ended up there?"

Rumple nodded slowly. "I suppose I could simply state that Nimuë decided that she had something to share with me after all," he said with a hint of his usual dry humor, "but I suppose you lot will only press me for further details." He smiled fondly at each one in turn. "Well. I'd say several of you have earned the right to hear them, and since you'll doubtless share them with the others regardless, I imagine I'd best bow to the inevitable."

"Gold," Emma said, "if you'd rather not say… I mean, we'll back off if you'd rather."

He shook his head. "No. I appreciate the thought, but I think I'd prefer you knew." He frowned. "Actually…" he dipped one hand below the bedclothes and hastily fumbled through his pockets.

"What is it?" Regina asked, just as the hand emerged, holding his cell phone. "You're calling someone else? Who?"

Rumple was smiling again, albeit somewhat sheepishly. "Booth. While this may not fall precisely under the auspices of an agreement I made with him, it's close enough to them that I think he'd be somewhat put out if he had to hear what I'm about to relate from a third party. I'll request your patience until his arrival. And then," he took a breath, "I'll share what I'm able to."


It was harder to get the words out than he'd thought. For too long, he'd equated openness with vulnerability. And although he was still somewhat flush with a knowledge and power he'd never realized he possessed, he still had centuries of Darkness and despair whispering at him, warning him against disclosing too much, cautioning him that—after all his plots and scheming—nobody would believe what he was about to tell them. They'd only scoff at him. Or laugh at him. Or accuse him of trying to lull them into lowering their guard. They knew him too well. They'd never accept his words without incontrovertible proof.

And yet, somehow, they did.

He'd never put too much faith in Emma's so-called superpower. It was an easy enough thing to be gotten round if one knew its limitations. And certainly, the savior was nearly as capable of blinding herself to truths she didn't wish to acknowledge as anyone else. He'd seen her deny the mounting evidence of the Dark Curse and Booth's reversion to wood past the point when most intelligent people—and Emma was hardly unintelligent—ought to, at least, have questioned what was taking place about them.

But she, who had doubted every hint that Storybrooke, and those who dwelled therein, were far more than they appeared, wasn't doubting him now. Oh, he hadn't missed her stunned expression at various points in his narrative. Not hers and not those of the others gathered about him. But the stupefied looks he was receiving didn't come from a place of incredulity, but from one of belief.

"So," Henry said, when he'd finished, "Is Nimuë… gone, now?"

Gold sighed. "Not for long, I'm afraid," he admitted. "She's been about for a good deal longer than I've been alive. Somehow, I doubt that a scant few seconds of defiance were sufficient to banish her from my consciousness."

He heard heavy footfalls drawing closer and stopped, jerking his head toward the door with a frown. A moment later, Killian stepped through it.

"What's going on?" he asked, taking in the scene at a glance.

"Uh…" Emma hesitated, darting a questioning look in Rumple's direction. Only when he gave a resigned nod did she tersely summarize what he'd been telling them earlier for the pirate's benefit.

Killian listened without interrupting and it was impossible to garner his thoughts from the expression on his face. Finally, when he knew that Emma was done, he sighed. "And there's no way to know when this former Dark One or any of her successors will be back. If any of them are actually gone, that is."

"If you think I'm—" Rumple's angry retort died on his lips and he blinked in surprise. The pirate was wary, yes. But he wasn't insinuating that Rumple had been lying or was even now colluding with his predecessors. More calmly, he went on, "It's hardly as if they've any other place to go." He shook his head. "And just because I could resist them once doesn't mean I'll be able to do so in future. The Darkness learns from each of its hosts in turn. And teaches them." His lips twitched in a bitter smile. "If you think I'm manipulative… consider that, while I may have been a willing pupil, I've yet to surpass my instructors. Now remember that those instructors are currently regrouping for a renewed assault."

Whale cleared his throat. "If these… spirits o-or entities... whatever they are... If they're attacking you from inside your mind, do you think that Dr. Hopper might have any ideas?"

Rumple's expression grew bleaker. "If they should gain the upper hand while I'm sequestered with him, he'd be less able to defend himself than many of you. And if you're thinking of a medical option, it's hard to know whether drugging me would weaken them, or only my ability to resist their influence. I'll grant that up to this point, dearie, taking a scientific approach has worked surprisingly well. But at the end of the day, science is not magic—even though it may appear so if sufficiently advanced. If you're using scientific analogies to help you to understand my situation, I can see how that might prove helpful. At least, at the outset. But at some point, all analogies break down and if you're going to persist in treating my condition as a medical matter, I fear you'll learn the error of that line of thought at the worst possible time."

"So…" Belle let her voice trail off, even as her hand squeezed his and, automatically, his squeezed back. Rumple regarded her sadly for a moment and shook his head. He didn't withdraw his hand, though.

Killian cleared his throat. "You know," he said hesitantly, "there is someone who could probably share some useful information, were he so inclined. Someone who, during my one brief encounter with him, insinuated that he'd made the acquaintance of a vast number of those instructors of yours."

Rumple's eyes widened as he realized who the pirate had to be talking about. "But why would he help me?" he demanded.

Killian shrugged. "I suppose there's no guarantee he will. But it wouldn't hurt to ask…"


"I can sort of get why Gold didn't say anything about Merlin's Apprentice being trapped in the hat," Emma snapped as Killian climbed into her bug. "But you?"

Killian sighed. "When you obtained the means of releasing the fairies, I thought it would release him as well. And, when I realized it hadn't," he had the grace to look embarrassed. "I'll fight any man or woman who comes at me with my sword or with my hook. But neither offers up much defense against a spell-caster with a grudge. I suppose after the close shave I had with the Dark One, I wasn't so eager to face another wizard with reason to attack me."

Emma sighed. Then a strange smile flitted across her face. "But you spoke up now. To help Gold."

"Believe me, Swan, I'm nearly as surprised as you are," Killian muttered. "But think it through. I don't know whether Rumpelstiltskin can truly mend his ways. Having said that… if his recent behavior is any indication, I'll grant that he appears to be trying to. Now, I'm not entertaining any notion that the two of us are ever likely to sit down and share a cask of rum together. However, I have marked a somewhat greater level of tolerance on his part than I might have expected, in light of some recent history."

"So, you're giving him another chance."

Killian shook his head. "I don't know about that," he said slowly. "But I do know this: whatever manner of ceasefire currently exists between us, if that Darkness he carries within succeeds in consuming him, I'm certain I'll be its next meal. So. At present, I have a vested interest in his survival. And if this Apprentice can help to ensure it, I'll chance his wrath, knowing I won't be facing him with naught but my hook and my rugged charm."

"When's your next Battleship game?"

Hook blinked. "It would have been today if he hadn't—" He caught himself, seeing the faint smile tugging at the corner of Emma's mouth. "Poor form, Swan," he muttered.

"It's okay not to hate him," Emma murmured.

Killian shook his head, but the frown on his face was more thoughtful than hostile.


Regina had decided to open the hat by the wishing well in the woods. "If this Apprentice turns out to be hostile, I'm not releasing him in the middle of town," she'd informed them tartly.

Nobody argued with her. And so it was that some three quarters of an hour later, Emma, Killian, Rumple, August, Henry, Belle, and Whale joined Regina at the well.

"You recall how to do it, dearie?" Rumple asked, when she seemed lost in thought, her eyes on the hat, but her mind apparently engaged elsewhere.

Regina nodded. "I'm just wondering." She looked at August. "Earlier, I think you mentioned that you believe that this is the same man who… considered making you the Author?"

August nodded back. "I'd have to see him to be sure, but I've done my homework over the years and I'm pretty sure it'll be the same guy."

"So, he'll know how to release the current Author."

"I guess," August nodded. "But like I told you a couple of weeks back, there's a reason why he was imprisoned in the first place. And, while I don't know what it is, I somehow don't think that just because the Apprentice now knows what it's like to be locked up, he'll suddenly have a change of heart and decide to undo that spell." He shook his head, a troubled look on his face. "There have been Authors operating for thousands of years and in all that time? This is the only one I've heard of who had to be… punished like this. And there's one other thing I do know, something you need to keep in mind, too. Authors are people. Humans like you or me. They're not gods, they're not immortal, and they're not omnipotent. If you're looking for a happy ending, I'm not so sure he's the ticket."

Regina sighed. "Maybe not, but he's the best lead I've got."

"Are you certain of that, your Majesty?" Killian asked. "It sounds to me as though, for all his alleged power, he's a hireling. Your interests might be better served if you approached his master directly." He jerked his head meaningfully toward the hat.

Regina's eyebrows lifted and she gave the pirate the slightest nod of acknowledgment. "Anyone else have anything to say before I do this?" she asked.

The others glanced, first to her, and then to one another. Nobody spoke. Regina nodded, her mind made up. "Henry," she began.

"I'm staying," the boy said firmly.

"Kid…" This from Emma.

"No," Henry said. "I've been working on this as much as any of you. I'm not leaving."

Emma let out a heavy breath. "Just stay behind me. And if things get weird, run."

Henry obeyed, not quite able to keep a triumphant smile off his face.

Regina squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. "All right," she said steadily. "I'll start the spell." And hope to hell she wasn't about to unleash the next deadly threat on her town.