A/N: References to S2E4: "The Crocodile" and S2E20: "The Evil Queen".

Chapter 51

"Why?" David demanded. "You've come so far. You're this close to… to…" He shook his head. "What is it? Do you love power that much, even when that's what's killing you?"

Rumple shot the prince a furious look. "I owe you no explanation," he retorted.

"Just… just help us understand," Belle said. "Because otherwise, it does look like—"

"Like what?" Rumple countered. "Like I still place magic above all else?" He looked Belle dead in the eye. "I do. That never changed and never will." He glanced away quickly, not wanting to see the full impact of his words on her demeanor, but as he did, he caught the look on Emma's face and his heart sank. How could he have forgotten about—? Abruptly, he pushed his chair away from the table, reached for his cane, and stalked off, muttering something about having nothing more to say and moving with surprising swiftness despite his bad ankle.

For a long moment after his departure, nobody spoke. Then Regina sighed. "I guess we could have seen that coming. I've had enough setbacks with my own efforts to have realized that some relapsing on his part ought to have been expected." She shook her head.

"I know," Snow said. "But to see him come so close…"

Belle shook her head. "Should we be happy he's finally being honest?"

"That's just it," Emma said. "He isn't."

"Wait," David said. "What?"

Emma took a deep breath. "Dad, my… superpower, much as I hate to admit it, isn't always as reliable as I want it to be. Half-truths, misdirection, saying something you believe to be true, even if it's not… All of that's like tinfoil in my radar. A bald-faced lie on the other hand? I can always spot one of those. When he agreed with your accu— Your question," she amended, "my lie detector started screaming. Whatever his reason or reasons… that's not it."

"Then…" Killian hesitated, "what other motive could he have had?"

Emma shook her head apologetically. "Sorry, Killian. Just because I can detect when someone's lying to me doesn't mean I can also see the real truth."

She turned to the Apprentice. "Do you know where he went?" she asked. "Can you send me there?"

The Apprentice nodded.

"Wait," August said. "Better make it both of us. Belle?"

Belle half-rose. Then she shook her head regretfully. "I… I think I've pushed him enough for one day. Maybe too much. I'm sorry."

"Okay," Emma said. "Sit tight." She looked back at the Apprentice once more.

"You can send us both?"

The old man nodded once more. "I suppose you'd consider it an invasion of his privacy were I to cast a spell to allow me to be privy to the conversation you hope will ensue."

"More to the point," August replied, "he almost definitely will."

The Apprentice nodded. "This is a delicate situation. And without my master's guidance, I'll need certain assurances before I can extend him such aid as is in my power to provide. While the spell I suggested would go a long way toward giving me those assurances—at least, we can hope for that and not the opposite—I'll trust your judgment in this matter and cast no spell apart from the one I'll use now to send you to him."

Emma gave him an appreciative smile. "Thank you."

"There may be a split-second's disorientation," the Apprentice cautioned. "It passes swiftly."

He closed his eyes and waved his hand negligently in their direction.

A moment later, there were two empty seats at the table.


Rumple was almost to his car when they materialized before him and he started involuntarily.

"Hey," Emma said, holding up her hands, palms facing him, "easy. It's just us."

Of course it was. And they'd just caught him unawares. "Were I interested in a conversation, I'd have stayed where I was," he snapped.

"I know," Emma said.

"Then why are you here?" It was almost a snarl.

Emma shook her head. "I… guess you forgot about my superpower."

"I'm just here as backup in case she messes up," August deadpanned. Emma rolled her eyes slightly, half-inviting Gold in on the joke.

The older man scowled.

Emma sighed. "I'm not going to badger you," she said tiredly. "Really, I just wanted to tell you… something I keep telling myself: my curiosity doesn't trump your right to privacy. Right now? I won't pretend I'm not curious about why you turned the Apprentice down. But my superpower already told me one important thing: whatever your reason for turning the Apprentice down, it's not about love of power." Hesitantly, she rested her hand on his shoulder for a moment and gave him a sad smile. "And I guess, when you get down to it, that's the only thing I really have to know. The rest, I just want to."

Rumple closed his eyes, sucked in a breath, and released it. When he opened them again, although he fixed them on Emma long enough to give her an appreciative smile, it was August who was his main focus.

"I know that when we were in Manhattan," he began, "I gave you reason to believe that I would willingly undo that which was done to your grandparents."

"Well, yeah," August said, "but if using magic could kill you…"

Rumple nodded soberly. "I'll not insult you by pretending that, with everything else that's been happening in town since our return, their fate has always been uppermost in my thoughts. But their… enchanted forms have always been present in my shop. I suppose I've just… noticed them more since my return," he continued.

"I've lost count of the people I've harmed over the centuries. Some wronged me first, though in hindsight, I'll admit my response was frequently… disproportionate. Some?" He sighed. "Were merely unfortunate enough to be in my way. I'll not pretend that there wasn't a time," he said with a hint of bitter humor, "when I considered that a capital offense." He waited, watching their reactions and when they nodded encouragingly, he went on. "There's no point in rehashing all I've done over the last two centuries," he continued, shaking his head, "but suffice to say that my current heart condition is hardly the result of a single Dark act." He drew another breath. "But your grandparents," he told August, "fell into neither category. Their fate came about through error and, for all my skill at rationalization, even I can't twist the truth enough to justify their current state. When neither Jiminy nor Gepetto approached me to free them, I debated with myself whether to initiate contact on my own. But," he sighed, "with the reputation I not only enjoyed, but cultivated in those days, I doubted that either of them allow me a moment to explain my business before either ordering me away or attempting to flee. And I had other, more immediate, concerns. Over time, the incident slipped to the back of my mind, until I could look at those puppets on a daily basis and barely see them. And now?" He shook his head. "The spell that transformed them can only be reversed by the person who created the original enchantment. Created, not cast. And yes," he nodded, "that's me. After this much time, it must be cast with fresh magic, not something siphoned off and reserved for a time of need."

"I take it," August said, "that isn't something you can safely do at the moment."

"I can't do it at all," Rumple snapped, somewhat shocked that he was admitting it instead of trying to brazen his way through. "Any use of magic will Darken my heart further and there isn't much Light left in it as it is. I daren't even risk something as mundane as masking my limp and the level of magic I'll need to lift the spell on your grandparents is anything but mundane."

"Hey," August said, "It's okay. I understand. Nobody expects you to restore their lives at the cost of yours."

Rumple sucked in another breath. "I-I realize that," he gulped. "But when the Apprentice made his offer, I realized something else. My name returning to the dagger… my heart regenerating… Those can both be taken as indicators that my condition may not be as permanent as I'd initially presumed. In time," he continued, "it may be safe enough for me to reverse that enchantment. I can't say when. I can't even say if. But I can say this: the possibility of my restoring your grandparents is less remote today than it was a week ago." He lowered his eyes and said in a near whisper, "But only if I still retain my magic."

He felt Emma's hands tighten on his shoulders and he exhaled and gulped in fresh, cold air. "It's one thing," he continued, "to avoid settling an account when one lacks the capital to do so at a certain point, but intends to rectify the situation at the first opportunity. While the other party may not be overjoyed at such a delay, depending on the debtor's reliability, one might not be overly surprised to find them somewhat understanding of circumstance. But if I accept the Apprentice's offer, it means giving up all possibility of that spell ever being reversed." He locked his eyes on August's again.

"And you expect your father to receive me at his table knowing that I've bought my life at the cost of theirs? While selflessness is hardly a character trait I can pride myself on, the same can't be said of paying debts. I honor mine and this is one of them."

He looked at Emma. "You've made some significant breakthroughs recently simply by recognizing that certain parameters purportedly set by a Light wizard hardly fell under the rubric of "Good". Well. I find myself applying some of that reasoning now. If the cost of abandoning my previous Dark path is condemning two innocents to remain in their enchanted state for eternity, well, that's hardly anyone's definition of 'good' either, is it? Wouldn't you say rather that it smacks of the same self-interest that's marked my choices these past centuries?" He shook his head. "I think I'd best continue as I am and trust the possibility that I might safely break that enchantment at some point in the future. Otherwise, I suspect that the actions I undertake to Lighten my heart will only Darken it irrevocably. And we all know what that would mean."

Wordlessly, Emma nodded as she pulled him in for a hug and he closed his eyes and allowed it. And then, he heard a crackle, felt warmth behind him, and realized that there was no breeze blowing and that he could hear a muffled murmur of voices somewhere to his left.

He opened his eyes and found that he and the others were back inside the mansion (though not in the same room he'd exited so abruptly some moments earlier), that they were standing in a comfortably-appointed drawing room with a roaring fire in the grate, and that the Apprentice was smiling benevolently at each of them in turn.

Rumple's eyes darted from August to Emma, realizing that for the three of them to have been pulled back now, the Apprentice surely must have been monitoring their conversation. Had either of those two known…?

But then Emma's hand tightened on his shoulder and the look on her face might have terrified him had he thought for one moment that the fury in her eyes was meant for him.

"You said—"

The Apprentice sighed. "I said that I would cast no spell to eavesdrop on your conversation. I did not." He looked away briefly. "When this mansion made the crossing, some of its magical defenses were converted to technological analogs. There are surveillance cameras at various locations. As well as microphones."

"And you didn't tell us," Emma snapped.

August placed a restraining hand on her forearm, but if his reaction was more measured it was no less furious. "You knew when you asked about eavesdropping spells that we wouldn't think about other methods."

The Apprentice inclined his head in acknowledgment. "There are times when it is necessary to understand the intent behind a decision. When the stakes are high enough, certain measures—never undertaken lightly—are warranted. My judgment has led to some egregious errors in the past. If my master cannot be relied upon to fix those errors this outing, I need to take steps to ensure that no fresh ones will be forthcoming. Even if the actions I take to avoid them prove to be errors of a less egregious nature."

Rumple sucked in his breath. "Who else overheard?" he demanded.

"Nobody," the Apprentice assured him. "Invasion of privacy is not something I sanction as a general rule. Though I deemed it necessary in this instance, I saw no purpose in further compounding the transgression."

"That still doesn't make it okay," Emma snapped.

"I agree," August said.

The Apprentice nodded. "As do I. But for me to consider releasing the current Dark One from his curse, I needed certain assurances."

Rumple's eyes narrowed. "But I told you…" He stopped. His eyes grew wide. And something that might almost have been the beginning of a smile twitched in the corner of one lip. "More misdirection?" he asked faintly.

"Hang on," August said, as the Apprentice nodded. "What?"

Rumple patted August's wrist briefly, but his focus was still on the old man. "Your answer to my earlier question wasn't quite as straightforward as I'd thought," he said.

"Very good."

"I'm lost," August admitted frankly.

Now Rumple did smile, albeit with more worry than warmth in it. "You heard him in the other room, Booth," he said. "Such magic as was granted to me when I became the Dark One…"

He turned back to the Apprentice. "An unrealized potential is still potential. And a peasant spinner of scant means or influence might never have the opportunity to even recognize that potential."

"An oversight not limited to peasants or spinners, whether they possess means or influence or no."

Rumple nodded. "I appear to have a… proclivity for not recognizing what I have until I've lost it. A failing that has persisted for quite some time, I think." The smile grew more pronounced if still hesitant. "So, then. I suppose the question has to be whether becoming the Dark One gave me magic, or simply allowed me to unlock a talent I'd always possessed."

The Apprentice smiled. "That is the question indeed."

Rumple waited for him to go on, but the old man continued to stand before him silently, still smiling. Finally, when the silence seemed to drag on past the point of a pause for effect, he asked the Apprentice with barely-veiled irritation, "Well, what's the answer?"

"That," the old man said, "is something we need to determine. If you're ready."


"Wait," David said after Emma had explained what they'd learned. "He wanted to hang on to evil to do something good?"

Emma nodded, glad that when she'd asked Gold if he was okay with her sharing his explanation he'd asked only that she do so when he wasn't present. She could understand how uncomfortable it might be to have a spotlight shining down when one had barely stepped out of the shadows and was still trying not to dart back. Since Gold was still in the other room and talking with the Apprentice, now was as good a time as any to fill the others in. "That's about the size of it," August confirmed.

Regina sighed heavily. "As admirable as that might sound, there's a problem with that line of reasoning," she said. "I think that by now, we've all read Henry's book. We know Rumple's history. Actually," she looked from August to Emma, "the two of you probably know even more, depending on what was edited out of the earlier edition. My point is, Rumple didn't decide to become the Dark One because he wanted to murder the Duke of the Frontlands' right-hand man." She frowned. "Or was that his son?"

"Both," August shrugged.

Regina nodded at his clarification and continued. "He didn't want to turn everyone who'd ever mocked him or snubbed him into a salamander, or… or… magic himself up enough wealth to finance a moderately-sized kingdom. He may have done most of that once he gained his power, but his motive in taking that power was something I don't think any of us would have taken issue with, had we been present to discuss matters with him centuries ago. Rumple wanted to save his son from being drafted into a war he was almost guaranteed not to survive. Totally understandable. In fact, I believe we'd all call that goal 'praiseworthy' without reservation. But surrendering to Darkness to achieve that end… changed him. I don't pretend that my own journey was identical. I've never been the Dark One, after all. But I do know that the more I used Darkness to get what I wanted, the more it changed me. I didn't go from shoving my mother through a looking glass to ripping my father's heart out and casting the Dark Curse overnight." She turned to Snow. "And as much as I hated you for telling my mother about Daniel and me, if I hadn't given Darkness a toehold, I don't think we ever would have gotten near the blood feud that later developed."

Snow nodded sadly.

"I want everyone to be clear," Regina said, looking from Emma to August. "I'm not saying that I doubt Rumple's explanation. Not after everything else he's been doing lately. As hard as it might have been to believe even a month or so ago, I don't think he's got any agenda beyond what he told you. But that doesn't mean that using Dark magic again, 'just that once' won't have an impact."

"I hear the logic," August said, "but I think you've left something out of the equation."

"Really?" Regina raised an eyebrow. "And what might that be?"

"Us," Emma said, sounding surprised that the mayor had to ask. "We've… talked a bit about," she hesitated, trying to figure out how to phrase things in a manner that would convey some of Gold's issues without betraying things told to her in confidence. "And one thing I think I've been getting is that Darkness isn't really Evil, exactly. It's more…" She looked at her mother. "Hopelessness. Despair. It's that voice that tells you that you can't come back from what you did, no matter what. And if you start believing that, then it gets—"

"Harder to see the point of trying," Regina nodded.

Snow looked at her aghast. "That time in the forest when you were in disguise, did I—?"

Regina sighed. "I'd just ordered a village massacred because you'd sheltered in it. I can't say I'd have acted any differently. Or that you should have." She hesitated. "Or that I wouldn't have reverted in the end, even if you had been willing to reconcile," she added a bit more softly. "Doing the right thing doesn't always lead to the results it ought to."

Snow's thoughts flashed on Johanna and she nodded her understanding.

"That being said, at the time," Regina went on, "I returned home secure in the knowledge that Darkness and vengeance were all I had left to me and I embraced them more fully than I ever had. Again, I don't hold you at fault for that. You had no reason to believe that I was ready to make a change. Not then. I'm not sure anyone did; that was the point. Once I believed I couldn't turn back, I thought I had no choice but to go on."

Emma nodded. "I think just... letting him know we've noticed his efforts has been going a long way with him."

Belle winced at that and Emma started to say something to her, but Regina interrupted.

"It's a good thought, but I'd be wary about going too far in the opposite direction. It… can start to turn condescending fairly quickly if we start praising him for… for not kicking a puppy or remembering to separate his recycling."

"Good point," August nodded.

"Here's the thing," Emma said. "He can't do this alone, but he's not used to asking for help. Or expecting to get it. Not without roping someone into a deal anyway. The more he thinks he has people he can count on, the less he thinks he has to depend on the Darkness to get what he needs. Which is probably a good thing, considering it's trying to kill him and take over," she added.

"Wait," David said. "If he knows the Darkness wants to kill him, why would he care about anything it has to offer?"

Emma sighed. Her parents might have fought ogres, trolls, and the odd power-mad monarch in their day, but they didn't seem to have a lot of experience wrestling their internal demons. If it came to that, neither did Emma—but she'd had plenty of external influences trying to knock her down and chip away at her self-esteem. She'd had those experiences to draw on in her current approach to Gold. Even if their pasts weren't close to identical, at least there was some kind of a common frame of reference. Her father didn't have that. Emma frowned, trying to find the words to frame an explanation that would make sense to him. "Archie's probably the person who can really explain that one," she began, "but speaking from experience, sometimes you… go with bad influences because they're the only ones who seem to give a damn about you. Even when you know they're just using you, at least it makes you feel needed. And when you don't believe you're especially… likeable? If you're convinced being useful is the best you can hope for, then you hope for that."

"You've got that right," August nodded and Emma felt some of her nervousness ease.

"But—" Belle stopped. She was doing it again. This wasn't about her. What was the purpose in pointing out that she'd more than 'given a damn' about him and it hadn't seemed to stop him from deceiving and manipulating her?

He always tried to show me his best self after we found each other again. He must have been afraid he'd lose me if he ever let that mask slip. And how can I even argue that point when I've been doing a fair job of proving it up until now?

And she was still making this about her, when it needed to be about Rumple.

"But how do we show him that there's more for him than that?" she asked finally.

"I think we are showing him," Emma said. "I think that might be part of why he's finally been able to push back against the Darkness. But," she looked at her father seriously, "while I think it's okay to ask questions about why he's doing stuff, we shouldn't try guessing the answer at the same time. Give him a chance before you assume the worst."

"Or the best," August added. "Sometimes it's easier to live down to expectations than to live up to them." He winced. "Take it from someone who knows."

"You mean, if he thinks we expect him to be perfect, he might not try at all," Belle said slowly.

"Something like that."

Belle nodded. "Got it."

Hook cleared his throat. "I know you'll not believe me when I say I hate to bring this up, but speaking as a man who's devoted a fair portion of his life toward hunting the Dark One and knows quite a bit about his methods? I don't think it's that far a stretch to say he might be attempting to mislead us now, as he has so many other times in the past. I grant he seems sincere, but that isn't a new look for him." In a slightly lower tone of voice, he added, "and you must admit that his explanation gives him a perfect excuse to choose to remain the Dark One—and with our blessings."

Belle and Emma started to protest, but August shook his head. "It's a possibility," he admitted. "But I wouldn't go bringing it up to around him." He took another breath. "I don't think it's a shock to any of you that I've got something of a past reputation for dishonesty. And," he went on with a heavy sigh, just when I think I've finally convinced everyone I'm past it, someone gets suspicious all over again." He shifted uncomfortably in place. "And it doesn't help matters that, occasionally, I do stretch things a bit more than I ought to. I never said I was perfect. All I can say is try to give the benefit of the doubt where you can."

"Try to catch him being good," Snow interjected. When the others turned to her, she smiled. "It's something you learn in teachers' college. At least, according to my curse memories. That you find what you look for. And if you're looking to see who's misbehaving, you're going to find someone. If you're trying to see who's paying attention and trying to learn, well you'll find someone, too."

Belle flashed once more on that horrible night at the town line when she'd told Rumple that all she could see of him now was the monster and she forced herself to smile back and nod.

"That doesn't mean we have to ignore any danger signs if they jump out at us," August said, "but for the next little while, at least, maybe we can all try to remember that just like I used to get a pretty strong reminder every time I was less than honest… he knows that if he does any major—or even maybe not so major—backsliding, he's going to face some automatic consequences."

"I will admit that his instinct for self-preservation is probably the strongest thing he has going for him right now," Regina nodded.

"But would he tell us if things were taking a turn for the worse?" Killian asked.

Whale, silent until now, spoke up. "Leave that to me," he said. "We've got a guy with a heart condition who's just had an experimental procedure done in an attempt to prolong his life. I have to monitor him in any case. While I'm doing that, I can keep an eye on the size of that red patch on his heart." He shrugged. "One of you others would have to check the dagger, though."

Henry cleared his throat and Emma smiled. "Right. That's another indicator."

"What's this?" David asked.

Emma's eyes met Henry's. "You wanna tell them, kid, or should I?"

Henry grinned. "Mom, when Grandpa healed you in the hospital, I'm pretty sure he used Light magic."

"How sure?" Regina asked her expression intent. "Not that I don't trust you, Sweetheart," she added with a quick smile, "but if there's any doubt whatsoever, I think we need to be aware."

"Well," Henry said, "when Grandpa uses magic, it usually looks like smoke. Yours did too, Mom when… after the first curse broke. And so did Zelena's." He turned to Emma. "Yours has always looked more solid." He faced Regina again. "Like yours does now. Well… that's how his looked to me. And it was bright gold."

"Like what he spins?" David asked, with a slight smile. "Regina?"

Regina nodded slowly. "I've seen Dark magic achieve the same results as Light, though maybe not for the same price. But the same appearance?" She shook her head, but she was smiling now, too. "For the pirate's sake, I'll play devil's advocate for one moment and suggest that if there is anyone capable of pulling that sort of illusion—a-a glamor spell on a spell, as it were, the Dark One just might be able to do it. But," she continued before anyone could voice another protest, "knowing what we know about Rumple's condition at that time… I don't think he was in any shape to do more than he absolutely had to." She looked down for a moment. "And maybe not even to do what he did," she murmured. "Plus, if he meant to deceive us, I think he would have mentioned something about this before now to make sure we were aware…" Her voice trailed off. Then she took another breath. "No," she said decisively as she looked up again, her momentary discomfiture gone. "Without seeing for ourselves what Henry described, we can't be completely sure. But going by what he's just described and," she smiled at her son, "given his knack for seeing things most of us tend to overlook, I think that we should give him—and Rumple—the benefit of the doubt for now."

Henry beamed back.


Rumple tried to pay careful attention to what the Apprentice was telling him. He didn't believe that the man would lie to him, but he'd already demonstrated a marked ability for cryptic speech—one Rumple could well appreciate. He found himself playing over what he was being told and asking himself what it might imply if it were he who was stating it.

"Darkness has a way of seeking out those with the greatest potential for power," the Apprentice was saying. "Often, not always, that power is magical. It takes its host's gifts and twists them to its purpose. I've seen it happen with intellect, charisma, fighting prowess…"

Rumple snorted at that last bit. He'd only ever had 'fighting prowess' when he was using a bow that couldn't miss or a spell to temporarily make him a master swordsman. When he'd been called to the front in the Ogre War, he'd been given some instruction, enough to ensure that he would be a slightly greater threat to the enemy than to his fellow soldiers, but really, not much more than Hook's mocking guidance some four years later on the day he'd believed Milah had been kidnapped away.

"Never been in a duel before, I take it? Well, it's quite simple. The pointy end goes in the other guy…" No, somehow he doubted that the Darkness had pointed him out to Zoso on account of any 'fighting prowess'.

Intellect, on the other hand, was a possibility. Strangely enough, Rumple had never thought much about his. Peasants weren't encouraged to think about much beyond feeding their families, serving their lords, and paying their taxes. The lords preferred it that way: a peasant with time to ruminate on more than that was a peasant likelier to consider rebellion. No, most nobles believed in giving their laborers just enough schooling to sign their names to promissory notes and read their draft notices, and keeping them too busy to bother with anything higher. Power was coveted, whether it was acquired by virtue of intellect, strength, magic, wealth, birth, or influence. And his own intellect? Well, he'd always known he had a sharp mind, but—like virtually everything he'd had in his peasant village—it had seldom been valued—not even by himself. He hadn't seen that it did him much good. It only made him all the more cognizant of how miserable his life truly was.

After he'd become the Dark One, he'd still been feared—or sought—not for his intellect, but for his magic Yes, he'd used his brains in order to drive the hardest bargains, trick others into giving him what he wanted, whether they meant to or not and, most importantly, to find a way to reach Bae. But they had just been a tool to help him achieve his ends, like his spinning wheel or his walking staff. And those who spoke of his power seldom praised his mind. Rather they disparaged it with terms like 'devious,' 'sly,' or 'crafty'. Not that he'd really cared. They still came knocking on his castle door, caps in hand and hope in heart, ripe and ready for his manipulations. And if they could fawn upon him to his face and disparage him behind his back, then they deserved the bargains they struck and the payment he exacted.

He still woke up in a cold sweat when he dreamed of Zelena's hands stroking his forehead while he was powerless to pull away from her. Sometimes in the night, he still heard her mocking laughter and saw the gleam in her eyes when she talked about needing his 'beautiful brain'.

Just because he hadn't thought about its worth, though, didn't mean the Darkness hadn't. But if it was his magical potential that drawn it in… He had to know.

"So, which was it in my case?" he demanded, trying not to let his irritation show.

The Apprentice regarded him sharply. "Why must it only be one?" He shook his head. "If you truly need to know the answer, you carry it within you, don't you?"

Rumple sucked in his breath. "You expect me to go within and ask it?" he exclaimed in shock.

The Apprentice shook his head. "I expect nothing. I'm only telling you that if you want to know the Darkness's motivation, you can listen to my suppositions, or you can go directly to the source." He paused for a beat. "If it's that important that you know the specifics, of course."

Rumple's eyes narrowed. Just what was the old man trying to tell him? "Would it be too much to request some time alone to meditate on that?" he asked somewhat testily.

The Apprentice smiled. "Just as you like. I believe the gallery you found earlier should afford you relative privacy. Or did you mean to return to your shop or another more familiar location?"

Just how extensive was the surveillance here? Rumple gritted his teeth. For all he knew, the Apprentice might be able to spy on the entire town. In which case, it made no difference whether Rumple stayed here or left. "The gallery will be fine," he said with icy politeness. "I trust you'll arrange I'm not disturbed?"

The Apprentice nodded. "Of course."


Roughly a half hour later, Rumple still didn't know what to do. He knew what the others wanted of him, of course. And after everything they'd done for him, everything he owed, there was a large part of him that wanted to comply. But if the use of magic came with a price, so did the surrender of magic. He'd told Nimuë that he'd never been 'nothing' and he knew that he'd spoken the truth in that moment. But without his magic, he also knew that the next time the others needed his help, there would be a good chance that he would be unable to provide it.

To be sure, they'd understand the reason. But at the same time, they'd be disappointed. Perhaps dismayed. More likely, though, they'd be angry and resentful, demanding to know why his seer-sight hadn't shown him whatever new crisis would loom and why he hadn't come up with some contingency. And even if they didn't, how long would they want him about when he wouldn't be in any sort of position to render assistance?

Without his magic, he would still have value, but so much less than what he had now.

He knew that if he tried to talk to the others about his concern, they'd be quick to reassure him. They'd probably even mean it. But when the next attack came, would they still be as understanding?

He wasn't sure he could take the risk.

Rumpelstiltskin leaned against the gallery wall and hugged himself. He didn't know what to do. He just didn't know what to do.


Henry was exploring the house. Well. In point of fact, he was looking for the bathroom. He'd thought he knew where it was from an earlier visit, but the door he'd opened had led instead to a storage closet. The next door had opened on a rather cramped sitting room—something that looked like the inside of a Victorian carriage he'd seen in an old movie. So now, he was opening doors as he came upon them, but none revealed what he wanted.

He blinked when he found himself at the foot of a staircase. He knew that there was a bathroom on the ground floor and he should have found it by now. He debated backtracking to see whether he'd somehow missed a door, but curiosity and the sense that something else was going on here propelled him forward. He climbed the stair.

The doors on this level seemed to open mainly on bedrooms and sitting rooms. He'd opened a half-dozen when he sensed a presence behind him and turned to see his grandfather standing there watching.

"Looking for someone?" Rumple asked.

Henry shook his head. "I couldn't find the bathroom," he admitted with some embarrassment. "It can wait," he added. "I guess I just wanted to stretch my legs a little."

"Ah."

Henry frowned. "Are you okay?"

Not long ago, Rumple would have smiled and politely brushed off the boy's concern. Admitting that he wasn't meant admitting vulnerability. But this was his grandson, a youth who frequently demonstrated extraordinary perception. He was also, from what Rumple recalled, a young man with a marked dislike for being lied to. And he had also been the first person to welcome him back home, literally with open arms. Rumple considered for a moment. Then, staring at a fixed point on the wall, he said softly, "I believe I find myself a crossroad and I am attempting to determine the best path to take."

"You mean about Marco's parents?"

Rumple nodded slowly, trying to decide whether it was a good thing or a bad thing that he'd given Emma permission to make his explanations to the others.

Henry took a deep breath. "Grandpa, do you remember after you healed my mom in the hospital, I wanted to tell you something, but you were too tired to listen?"

Rumple blinked. He thought he recalled something like that, but now was hardly the time for… Clearly, whatever it was Henry had wanted to say, it was important enough for him to make this further attempt days later. "Forgive me," he said. "I'm afraid I've had a good deal on my mind since then. What was it you wished to relate?"

Henry hesitated. "I'm not positive," he admitted. "I should've caught it on video, but I didn't think about it at the time. But when you healed her, I think…"

As Henry continued, Gold's eyes widened. If he hadn't been using Dark magic, then—

He gripped his grandson's forearm with one hand and dug his cane into the hall carpet with the other. "Come with me," he said. Then he realized that he wasn't certain where the Apprentice had gotten to. Off in some security office spying on everyone via the cameras, no doubt. He swiveled his head from left to right.

"You can show yourself," he said with quiet authority. "I've made my decision."

"Grandpa?" Henry asked nervously. "Who're you talking to?"

"He was addressing me," a voice spoke from behind, startling both man and youth. The two turned to see the Apprentice standing several paces away, a worried expression on his face.

Rumpelstiltskin smiled. "There you are," he said. "I imagine you'll be delighted to know that I've decided to take you up on your proposal to cleave the Darkness from me, after all."

The Apprentice's worry shifted to dismay. "I'm afraid," he said slowly, "that the offer I made you earlier won't, in point of fact, be possible to extend to you as I'd initially hoped."