A/N: Whale is quoting the Maine Criminal Code (Title 17A, Section 203). The State of Maine does not distinguish between voluntary and involuntary manslaughter. Please note that while I am not a lawyer and might be misunderstanding the statute, as Whale isn't one either, he doesn't actually need to be correct; he just needs to think he is.

Chapter 47

"No way!" Skippy exclaimed, when Mama greeted them at home. "We get to spend a whole day in the forest with Robin Hood?"

"Actually," Robin cleared his throat, as Mama nodded, "it would be with the Merry Men. I'm headed back to town."

Skippy's groan of protest was nearly drowned out by Aggie's, "Yeah! Last time, Friar Tuck told me he'd show me how to make lu-nated manaskips when saw him again!"

Robin smiled. "Illuminated manuscripts, eh? Well, I do believe he might have been sharpening some quills for that purpose yesterday."

"Won't you be coming back to the forest at all, today?" Skippy persisted, ignoring the exchange between his little sister and the outlaw.

Robin sighed. "Perhaps I will, Skippy, but I'm afraid I won't be much for playing games today. I've other duties to attend to."

"We quite understand," Mrs. Lapine said firmly. Then she gave her son a meaningful look. "I'm sure Skippy will still prefer a day in the forest to a day in school." She lifted her eyebrows. "Though, if I'm mistaken, I suppose you could bring him back to town and drop him off at the elementary…"

Cecily smothered a laugh. Her little brother was clearly conflicted between the prospect of a day off school and the prospect of having Robin Hood all to himself for the half hour or so it would take him to reach school.

"I'll take the forest," Skippy muttered finally.

"I thought you might," Mrs. Lapine nodded. Then she smiled at her eldest daughter. "You're tottering on your feet," she said. "Inside, get some rest. We can talk afterwards."

Cecily's smile fell away. Mama didn't sound angry. But Mama also seldom had time for 'talks' unless one of them was in trouble.

"What'd'ja do, Cis?" Skippy whispered, no stranger to trouble.

"Nothing!" she whispered back, but as she followed Mama back in the house, she found herself wondering whether Mr. Gold had phoned Mama about her kissing Henry after all.

Maleficent regarded the remains of the feast and reached for a chicken pasty. She chewed mechanically, barely tasting it. For all she knew, she might have been eating her cloth napkin to boot.

She waved her hand and a collection of flasks and bottles appeared on the stone beside her. Sleeping curse… seawater… toadstool, yes she had all she needed. She blended the ingredients with a practiced hand, as though she'd only done so yesterday. It was only when she was about to dip a wooden spindle into her beaker that she realized what she was doing.

"No," she said aloud. "No, this isn't going to bring my daughter back. I can't afford to sit here feeling sorry for myself. I have to find her."

And once she did, how was she going to get through to her? She didn't know her daughter. She had no idea how to go about building a relationship with her now.

But, she reflected, going by what she'd listened to yesterday while she was reviving, she knew of two people who did have some experience reconnecting with a long-lost child. And they certainly owed her a favor or two…

She hurled the beaker against the cave wall and departed without a backwards look.

Dopey never paused or faltered as he led Lily unerringly down one passage and past another until they emerged, blinking in the chilly daylight. "Thank you!" Lily exclaimed.

Dopey, however, frowned and tilted his head at her questioningly.

"What?" she asked.

Dopey lifted his index finger and moved it horizontally from side to side. Then he pointed at her, looking for some flicker of comprehension.

"What is that?" she asked. "Some kind of sign language?"

He nodded.

"Uh, I don't… Wait." She bent down and picked up a stick. "Can you read? Write?"

Dopey's eyes widened slightly and he gave her a cautious nod, then took the stick when she handed it to him. He kicked aside the thin layer of snow, revealing a muddy bank. Carefully, he gouged block capital letters into the mud: WHERE U LIVE

Lily hesitated. "Massachusetts," she said softly.

WHY U HERE

"I've been wondering that myself for the last little while."

HAVE PLACE STAY

"Do I have a place to stay?" Lily translated. She hesitated again. "Not… really. Not one I want anyway."

Dopey pointed to the last three words again, then to her, and then to himself, nodding emphatically.

Lily blinked. "Are you saying I can stay with you?"

Dopey nodded.

"Why?" she demanded. "You don't know anything about me."

Dopey shrugged. Then he smiled affably, pointed to his axe handle, and then to himself.

"You're Dopey," Lily translated, smiling a little despite herself. "Guess you must be if you're inviting me home. I'm not exactly the kind of girl you bring home to Mama."

NO MAMA. Dopey smiled. JUST ME.

"Oh," Lily said. "I… guess that's okay." And she didn't have a whole bunch of options right now. Rumpelstiltskin had seen her face and probably given her description to the police by now. Emma might recognize her on sight anyway; she didn't think she'd changed that much. She didn't care to go back to Maleficent. At the moment, her choices seemed to be bunk in with Dopey or go back to the bottom of the lake. And she wasn't sure she could pull off another dragon transformation right now.

Bottom line: her new friend didn't seem to mean her any harm. And if he was some pervert after all, well, she had some experience dealing with those, too. "Is it a long walk?"

Dopey shook his head. Then he shouldered his axe once more and started walking down the gravel path.

Lily followed.

Zelena pulled the baby toward her protectively as Robin and Regina advanced. "You can't take her," Zelena proclaimed calmly. "You can't raise a newborn in a forest in the middle of winter."

Robin raised an eyebrow. "I've done it before," he remarked. "But I do take your point that it's less than ideal. So, after some discussion…" he took a sideways step toward Regina.

Regina smiled. "…Robin and Roland are moving in with me," she completed.

"What?"

Robin shrugged. "We've been moving in that direction for some time, now. The baby just gives us a reason to stop dithering about it."

"We did come to an agreement about custody," Regina reminded her.

Zelena's face seemed to twist and crumple. "She's my daughter," she protested weakly. "She… she loves me, you know that. It's the only reason I could wake her up. She…"

"The agreement—" Regina started to say, but Zelena cut her off.

"Yes I know about that damned agreement!" she snapped. "Snow White… Emma Swan… Gepetto Jefferson… Michael Tillman… me… Keeping parents from their children is very much your stock in trade, isn't it? And yet, it never works out in the end." Angrily, she thrust the swaddled bundle out at them. "So here. Take her. Enjoy your triumph while it lasts. I'll allow you your victory. I may lose this battle, but I shall win the war."

Robin took the baby from her. Regina smiled. "Have you got it all out of your system now?" she asked evenly. "Because I was about to invite you back to the house as well."

Zelena blinked. "Pardon?"

"I believe we agreed to supervised visits? If we're all under one roof, I'd say the supervision would be near-constant." Regina heaved a sigh. "A second chance isn't a second chance if everyone's watching and waiting for you to fail. Something I've only really come to understand recently. And that's what this is. Not a test. A chance. You want to be a mother to your child? Robin and I will support you and cheer you on every step of the way. You're feeling overwhelmed? Hopefully you'll trust someone enough to reach out and ask for help—and it doesn't necessarily need to be one of us, so long as it's someone we can all agree on. Robin retains custody, but you are very much going to be a part of this child's life, so long as we can see you making an effort."

"We don't expect perfection," Robin said with a strained smile. "After all, it would hardly be fair to hold you to a standard none of us could attain. For now, we'll settle for your putting the child first. And, not trying to kill or enslave the lot of us, of course."

Regina noted the slight tension in Robin's voice and took over once more. "I don't think any of us is naïve enough to believe that this will be a happily ever after. Not now. But maybe we can start with 'happily for the moment' and see where it goes."

Zelena started to smile and she took a glad step forward. Then her eyes found Robin's and something hard and cold in them froze her in her tracks.

"I'm not forgetting," Robin said tersely, "that I was your unwilling pawn in all of this."

"You hardly seemed unwilling at the time," Zelena smirked. "Though if it makes either of you feel better, I didn't enjoy it."

Regina started to say something, but Robin spoke first. "You know damned well that you had to impersonate my wife before I went to you. And even then, it was out of a sense of duty, rather than love." Despite herself, Zelena flinched at that. Robin continued. "I'm not going to continue to trade barbs with you. What's done is done. And none of that is our daughter's fault; I think we can, at least, agree on that much."

Zelena ducked her head once automatically.

"So," Regina said, "as hard as it might be, we're going to do our best to move on from the past. I spent too many years trying to kill one person I blamed for destroying my happiness, never seeing that I could have found it many times if I'd just looked away from my course of vengeance. I'm not going down that road again. I'd urge you to avoid it as well. This is," she turned to smile at Robin, "a messy, complicated situation. But for your daughter's—my niece's—sake, I think we can make this work. Your call, Sis."

"And if I refuse?"

Regina shook her head sadly. "Then you can go back to your farmhouse. Or, back to New York, I suppose. Wherever you want; you aren't a prisoner now. It all comes down to how much you want to be in your child's future. Again, that's your decision."

Zelena looked from her to Robin. Robin nodded slowly, his face carefully blank now. She took a breath. "Well, then," she said brightly. "I suppose I'd better see the quarters you've picked out for me and determine whether I'll need to redecorate. Please tell me they aren't all frills and lace…"

Robin and Regina exchanged a cautious look. They both meant to give Zelena a second chance, but neither was naïve enough to assume that she was leaping for it with wholehearted sincerity.

Still, Regina reflected, if she had managed to change course, if Rumple had managed it, well, who was to say that her sister couldn't manage as well?

Not that 'could' and 'would' were the same thing, of course. She was nowhere near as hopeful as her stepdaughter. But perhaps, she wasn't quite as pessimistic as she once had been…

"Well," Uncle Bené smiled, "I know you both had a full day yesterday. I trust you've recovered?"

Tony and Tia exchanged a quick glance. "Well," Tony said, pouring hot water over the teabag in his cup, "my shoulders feel like I left the hanger in my shirt when I put it on this morning; I haven't really practiced flying since I moved to New York. But other than that, yeah."

Tia winced. "I'll let you know after the aspirin wears off," she said, reaching for the teapot once her brother had set it down. "Talking to animals is one thing. Talking to dragons is something else."

Uncle Bené nodded sympathetically. "All magic—even yours—does come with a price. Fortunately, you won't need to incur any further debts on that account unless you choose to do so." His smile grew warmer. "You've both completed the tasks for which I summoned you."

"You mean," Tony said with some dismay, "we have to leave? Already?"

Tia said nothing, but the disappointment in her brother's eyes was magnified in her own.

Uncle Bené shook his head. "You're free to remain here so long as you choose to do so, though I think your families will miss you. I meant only that the purposes for which I called you here have been fulfilled. You're now here," he smiled again, "for pleasure, rather than business."

"I'm not sure about that," Tia spoke up slowly. "I've been hoping for a chance to learn more about, well, about the sort of magic you do, Uncle. And this seems to be the right place to do it." She sighed. "I know I won't more than scratch the surface. But it'll be another week before Glenn and the kids get back from their ski trip. I can stay around for another few days before I have to drive back."

Tony gave a sigh of mock despair. "I… guess that means I'm stuck here, too," he said dolefully. "I mean, Tia is the one with the car and there doesn't seem to be much in the way of bus service from here to Manhattan." He looked down at the floor for a moment, then met his sister's eyes with a grin. "Looks like I've got time to check out that pawn shop for curios, after all."

Bené stroked his beard with a sage expression. "Well, then. I shall be delighted to host you a bit longer." He smiled. "Do you still take honey?" he asked, passing the jar their way.

Belle was silent on the drive to the hospital, but out the corner of his eye, Rumple could see her hands twisting and untwisting.

"If you've changed your mind…" he murmured.

Belle shook her head. "I haven't. But this isn't going to be easy."

Rumple nodded, keeping his eyes on the road.

"He's my father," Belle said.

Rumple nodded again.

Belle's hands clenched into fists in her lap. "I know what's expected. I know everyone's going to talk about it when they found out I didn't do it. They…" She winced. "They're going to blame you, too, you know. Just like he will. Nobody's going to believe that this is my decision. They'll think you put me up to it, no matter what I say."

Rumple his right hand off the steering wheel and placed it over her left for a moment. "Is that what's troubling you?"

Belle sucked in her breath. "Some of it, I guess. The rest is, as much as I know I'm doing the right thing, I also know it's not going to look that way. And I shouldn't care what anyone else thinks, but… I do."

Rumple nodded. "Well. We both know you made your choice with no input from me. And as for blame, well," he chuckled, "you can't imagine me unaccustomed to bearing the brunt of everyone's accusations. But, at least this time, you know the truth. That will make the current round of condemnations somewhat easier to deal with." And he rather thought that there were a few others this time out who would hear what he had to say—and believe him—rather than jump to conclusions.

Belle sighed. "I could almost change my mind to spare you those," she said, smiling just a bit. Her smile dropped. "But I think you'll endure them better than you will sharing a roof with Father. He… last night, he wouldn't stop… having a go at you. You weren't even there. He had to know that nothing he said could change my mind about you. I don't think he could help himself."

"It almost sounds as though he wouldn't want to stay with us, even if you were inclined to extend the invitation."

"Oh, he'd come," Belle retorted. "If only to keep trying to drive a-a wedge between you and me." Rumple stopped at a red light and Belle gripped his hand. "We've had enough… wedges between us. I'm not giving my father a chance to try hammering in another one." She took another breath. "He's not staying with us. I won't change my mind."

Rumple squeezed her hand tightly. Over the purring of the Cadillac's engine, he almost missed her murmured, "…I hope."

She emerged from the hospital room after fifteen minutes with a look on her face that Rumple could only call apologetic. "You changed your mind," he deduced at once.

Belle shook her head. "No. But I couldn't tell him either. I don't mean I couldn't get the words out," she added hastily. "With the medications he's currently taking, he's," she winced, "he wasn't very lucid. He knew I was there," she said. "He smiled," and now there was a brittle edge in her voice, "and told me I was his good girl. And then he drifted off before I could say anything."

Rumple smiled reassuringly. "They won't be releasing him today," he pointed out. "You'll have ample time to explain the situation."

"I know," Belle replied. "I guess, well, I've been steeling myself for this since last night. As much as I didn't want—don't want—to upset him, I know I will and, for all I was dreading the conversation, I was also looking forward to getting it over with." She met his smile with a reluctant one of her own. "Now, I get to stress over it a bit longer."

"Oh, Belle!" The two turned as one to see Whale approaching at a clip. "I'm glad I caught you. Merryweather's in if you need to make those arrangements we were talking about last night. And when you're done," he added, "I'd like a word, as well."

"If it's about Father," Belle said, "perhaps we'd best have it now."

Whale shook his head. "It's not. And it's not all that urgent, either. I've just…" He stopped. "You know, maybe we should talk first."

"Sure," Belle said, looking puzzled. "But if it's not about Father, then what is it about?"

Whale took a breath. "Cruella. I've just seen a copy of the ME's report."

"Are we doing the right thing?" Robin asked quietly. Zelena was upstairs nursing the baby and he and Regina were in the kitchen with the door closed. "I thought we were. I truly believed that I could accept the situation. But now…"

Regina nodded. "Messy and complicated doesn't begin to describe it."

"If she hadn't been able to break the curse," Robin said, "had she not proven that she was capable of love, that she truly cared for the babe as something other than a-a badge she could flaunt in our faces…"

"It would be short-sighted to think that a child is going to solve all of her… issues," Regina said. "But if I'd never adopted Henry, I wouldn't have become the person I am today. Change doesn't happen overnight, but it does happen."

Robin nodded slowly. "But while this change is happening," he said, "how safe are we? More to the point, how safe will Roland be here?"

Regina lowered her eyes. "I don't know," she admitted. "We can both protect him, of course, but I won't deny that protections can fail."

"Yes," Robin agreed. "And I'm not about to leave him in the forest to be raised by the Merry Men while I try to come to some sort of civil accommodation with the woman who… who I thought was my wife."

"You're going back there, then," Regina said sadly.

Robin shook his head. "No. I still need to reach that accommodation. And much as it pains me to admit it, Zelena did have a valid point: raising an infant in the forest is far from ideal." He looked away. "We did well enough his first winter. But the following autumn, Friar Tuck could tell that his second would be far more brutal. It was then that we dared to chance refuge in the Dark One's former castle." He frowned. "Or, perhaps that should be former Dark One's former castle. We were outlaws," he added. "There was no choice. But that's not the case, now. I won't endanger either of my children unnecessarily. But neither will I step out of my daughter's life and leave her upbringing to your sister."

"I'll be keeping an eye on her," Regina pointed out.

"You're also the town's mayor. You have many responsibilities." Robin smiled. "I'm not saying you won't try. But there will be times when you'll need to sacrifice your vigilance for the town's well-being and that's as it should be. Besides, I've never been one to shirk my duties." He took a deep breath. "I think for now, I need to ask a favor."

Regina felt her heart sink. She was going to lose him. No matter what sort of face he put on what he was going to say next, she was going to lose him. But every lesson she'd ever learned in concealing her true feelings and putting on a serene face to the world came to the fore and she somehow managed to smile and say calmly, "Of course. What do you need?"

"A house," Robin said. "As close to this one as possible. Roland and I will live there for now. While he's in school, I'll be here, of course. And if Zelena's leap into motherhood proves to be mere infatuation or worse, I think we can both agree that raising her in town is far less problematic."

Regina instantly forgot every last one of those lessons and flung her arms about her True Love's neck. "I'll talk to Rumple," she said. "He may know of a vacancy. I mean, he does own this town, after all."

"It's still not perfect," Robin cautioned. "Until now, when duty's called, I've been able to leave Roland with my men. That won't be nearly as easy going forward."

Regina started to nod her understanding when a thought struck her. The smile that had been slipping from her face returned in force.

"Regina?"

"I think I may have a solution," she said, with just the smallest hesitation. After all, the idea had only just occurred to her and she had no idea whether Astrid would accept. But the fairy—former fairy—did seem to have a talent for working with young children. And she was currently homeless. "I'll need to make a phone call," she said slowly, still smiling, "to make sure, but… I think I may have found you a perfect nanny…"

Belle swallowed hard. "Yes, of course," she murmured. She was aware of Rumple hovering in the background. She knew that if she tried to avoid this conversation, he would support her without question. But if she had done the deed, she had to face the consequences. She followed Whale into his office, Rumple close behind.

"I won't beat around the bush," Whale said. "While the official cause of death was a head injury, based on the ME's findings, it probably wouldn't have been, were it not for other factors."

Belle blinked. "I-I don't understand. I hit her—obviously harder than I'd intended—and knocked her into one of the well supports, and she died. I killed her. Whether I meant to or not, I killed her."

"That's just it, Belle," Whale explained gently. "You didn't hit her hard, not at all. The ME's conclusion is that if she hadn't been wearing stiletto heels and standing on a stone base that was more slippery than usual, thanks to all of the freezing and thawing and re-freezing that goes on at this time of year, she probably wouldn't have fallen, and almost certainly not hard enough to crack her skull. Belle, even if Cruella hadn't been manipulating a dragon, even if she hadn't been trying to crush your husband's heart, based on what this report says, I'm no lawyer, but I believe it would be hard to make even a manslaughter—much less a murder—charge stick. There was no recklessness; there was no criminal negligence. Maybe a case could be made that you were acting 'under the influence of extreme anger or extreme fear brought about by adequate provocation,' but since that would only apply if you had intentionally or knowingly caused her death—based on my understanding of the Maine Criminal Code, anyway—I kind of doubt it."

Belle shook her head. "I killed her," she repeated dumbly.

Whale sighed. "I know. Believe me." Belle's head jerked up, even as she felt Rumple's hand on her arm. Despite the doctor's words, she saw no condemnation in his eyes. "A woman died because of something you did," he continued. "That's not… easy to live with. Even when the law doesn't hold you responsible for it, your conscience does. I…" For a moment, he broke eye contact. "I've been there myself," he finished quickly.

Belle sucked in a breath. "How… how did you get past it?" she asked.

Whale shook his head. "I didn't. I don't think it's something you're supposed to get past, so much as something you go on with. Some days, that's easier than others. But it helps when you have people you can talk to who understand what you're going through. And while I am one of those, I… think you'll find a number of people who are closer to you who can say the same. Not that you can't call on me if you want to. Or Doctor Hopper, for that matter."

"Doctor Hopper," Belle repeated.

"Not just in his professional capacity," Whale smiled. "I think there was something to do with a potion and a couple of puppets Marco recently procured from your husband?" He sighed. "He's someone else with firsthand experience regarding your current situation." His eyes looked past her. "Among others."

Yes, well, she and Rumple had already danced about this topic together, or begun to. Still, Whale's reminder wasn't unwelcome. Her husband's hand was still on her arm. She brought her free hand up to cover it and squeeze. "Thank you, Doctor," she breathed. She glanced over her shoulder, found Rumple's eyes, and smiled. Then she focused on Whale once more.

"I... It's a lot to think about," she said vaguely. "But before I do, I suppose I'd best find Merryweather."

She wasn't alone. There were people who understood. People who had made similar—if not identical—errors to hers. Maybe that wasn't enough, but it was a start. And a great deal better than nothing.

Snow waited until David had had his second cup of coffee before she broached the subject of her earlier conversation with Emma. He heard her out.

"You know," he said finally, "she had a point about the timing."

Snow winced. "I know she did. But letting something like this fester… It might get worse."

"Snow," David said, smiling faintly, "this isn't like what happened between you and Regina when you were ten. I mean, this is Belle!"

"I know," Snow said again. "But it could still get worse. I just… I know I messed up. I just think it would be better if she'd let me… I don't know, talk it out? Apologize? Something. Keeping things bottled up never works in the long run, and it is always so much worse when it comes out."

"Which is probably a timing issue," David reminded her. "Look, I'm not saying that your heart wasn't in the right place when you told Moe what happened. But did Belle have to find out last night? She was already dealing with a lot. Just… give her time." There was a knock on the door. He started to get up.

"No," Snow said, "I'll get it."

"Just give her time," David repeated, as she pushed back her chair. "After all, that was what Emma needed after she found out about Maleficent."

Snow opened the door and she felt her heart begin to thunder. "David…" she said hoarsely, as she took an involuntary step backwards.

David twisted in his chair to see who it was that his wife had opened the door to, and felt his own throat go dry. Speak of the devil, he thought, as Maleficent swept into the room.