A/N: Belle is reading from The Awakening by Kate Chopin (Herbert S. Stone & Co., 1899).

Chapter 49

Belle sat by her father's bedside, an Oxford World's Classic paperback in hand, as she read aloud. "Chapter seven," she smiled reassuringly, wondering if any of what she was reading was penetrating the fog of Moe French's medications. Dr. Whale had assured her that this was normal for his injuries; his body needed time to heal. He'd also agreed with Rumple that magical healings might do more harm than good.

"Right now," Whale had said, "pain is a good thing. It's telling us where the trouble is, so we can fix it. Magic can mask the symptoms. For less-severe injuries, that's fine; a deep cut needs disinfecting and stitches. If magic can speed up the process, I'm all for it. Similarly, if it's being used to hide a chronic, non-life-threatening condition—"

—Like Rumple's limp, Belle had thought—

—"I'm certainly not opposed. But right now, we're still not sure of all the ramifications of your father's fall. If someone goes blundering in with a patch-up job, it might not address all the underlying causes. This might be slower, but it's much less risky."

And Belle had nodded her understanding and tried to hide her dismay when she saw her father wrapped in blankets and bandages, his glazed eyes only occasionally sparking with recognition. Wincing, she took a breath and continued. "Mrs. Pontellier was not a woman given to confidences, a characteristic hitherto contrary to her nature. Even as a child she had lived her own small life all within herself. At a very early period she had apprehended instinctively the dual life—that outward existence which conforms, the inward life which questions."

Moe grunted and Belle immediately looked up, a smile poised to spread across her face. But her father only blinked and then his eyelids slowly drooped. Belle bit her lip. Then she reached out and clasped Moe's hand in hers. Maybe she only imagined the slight squeeze she felt in return, but she took another breath and, still holding his hand, looked down at the page once more.

"That summer at Grand Isle she began to loosen a little the mantle of reserve that had always enveloped her…"

Lily felt her heart lurch. "For me?" she repeated, one hand sliding almost instinctively into her jacket pocket for her mace. "What do you mean?"

Dopey shook his head. The curtain was thin enough for you to hear, wasn't it?

Lily nodded. "Yeah, but he was talking about a dragon! I mean," she demanded, "do I look like a fire-breathing reptile to you?"

Not now, Dopey typed. Yesterday was different.

The mace canister was warm in her clenched hand. "You think I'm a dragon," she said, tilting her head at him in disbelief. "Maybe you're not as smart as I thought."

Dopey shrugged. It's okay, he typed. Everyone's wrong sometimes. But I know Maleficent has a human form. Most dragons do. Last night, she brought her daughter to the mine. I met you there. I know just about everyone in this town. Maybe not every name, but every face. Not yours. Now, Maleficent's daughter is missing. The last place she saw her was in the mine.

He started a new paragraph.

If you want to leave, I'm not stopping you. You don't have to hurt me to get away.

Lily blinked. Did dwarfs have X-ray vision or something? "Who said anything about hurting you?" she blurted.

When you can't talk, sometimes you use signs. Sometimes you don't have to. He glanced up at her with a slight shrug before going back to his keyboard. Body language. I can't read everything, but I know when someone is getting ready to attack. I really hope you won't. I mean, he smiled slowly, if you're going to keep my secret, it's only fair I keep yours.

Lily regarded him for a long moment, her eyes narrowed in a puzzled frown. Then she smiled back with a note of resignation and pulled her hand out of her pocket, opening it to show Dopey that her palm was empty. "Why would you do that?" she asked. "You barely know me. And, if I am who you think I am—and I'm not saying you're right—then I'm dangerous. Why wouldn't you tell your brother where I am?"

My brother is scared, Dopey typed. When he's scared, he doesn't listen. If he won't listen, I can't talk to him. If I can't talk to him, he might try to hurt you. I don't want that. He smiled wryly. Especially if you aren't a dragon. But even if you are.

"But if I am, don't you think I'll be able to defend myself?"

Dopey nodded seriously. Yes. But you'll be scared. And then you'll probably hurt him. I don't want that either. He's my brother.

Lily exhaled. "Yesterday," she said slowly, "I was angry. And, yeah, okay, maybe a little scared, too. Maybe I still am. Both. But I didn't want to do… I didn't mean to hurt… I mean…" She shook her head and buried her face in her hands. "I always do this," she muttered.

Do what? Dopey typed.

"The wrong damned thing!" She practically spat the words out. "No matter what I do, it always comes out wrong. Even when I try to do better, it blows up in my face." Her shoulders slumped. "I used to joke about being cursed. Then I found out I really was."

She waited for Dopey to respond, knowing that he was going to tell her not to be silly or worse, accuse her of creating a self-fulfilling prophecy or some of the other crap that the therapist at that halfway house had told her, trying to convince her that she was wrong. She'd never shown him the old man's book, of course; telling him that she was Maleficent's daughter and that Snow White and Prince Charming had transferred their baby's potential for Darkness into her body before she'd been born would have earned her some heavy medication and maybe another lockup—one where there'd be no maximum time she might serve.

Almost everyone in this town has been cursed at one time or another, Dopey typed. It's not the end of the world.

Lily felt like she'd been sucker-punched. "Sometimes it feels like it," she muttered.

Dopey nodded. Yeah. Sometimes it does.

Rumple was sitting in the hospital cafeteria studying his Styrofoam coffee cup, when he heard footsteps approaching. He looked up with a welcoming smile as Belle joined him. Then he shook his head sadly. "Still no change?"

Belle sighed. "I don't know," she admitted. "Dr. Whale says everything is normal for the circumstances. Seeing him like this—m-my father, I mean," she clarified with a pained smile, "it's hard. But he's my father," she added. "I can't not be here for him. Especially since…" She sighed. "I'm being silly, aren't I?"

Rumple blinked. "Silly," he repeated, sounding as though he couldn't quite believe his ears. "That's scarcely a word I'd think to apply to you under any circumstance."

Belle flashed him a quick smile. "I'm sorry," she said at once. "I just… feel as though for every step forward I take, I fall back two."

Rumple raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his slightly-warmer-than-tepid coffee. "I believe I know the feeling," he murmured.

Belle's smile lasted a fraction of a second longer this time. "I thought I was over worrying about what people would think," she said. "That it's not always a question of doing 'the' right thing—as if there could be only one, but 'a' right thing." She waited, gauging Rumple's reaction. It was only when he nodded encouragingly that she continued. "I know that when Father's recovered enough to go home he won't be… happy… that I'll be making arrangements for someone else to look after him."

"Mmm," Rumple said noncommittally. "Given his opinion of me, I shouldn't think he'd enjoy moving in with us either. Still…" He shook his head. "As much as I support your decision—and I do think you're making the right one—if you should change your mind, well, it's not as though the house isn't big enough. Or that I don't spend long hours away. And if all else fails, it will be some time before your father will be able manage stairs. If his company should grow too tedious for me, well, it's no great difficulty for me to change floors."

At Belle's sharp look, he gave her a diffident shrug. "I know this isn't easy for you. Whatever you ultimately choose to do, you have my support."

Belle nodded. And now her smile was warmer, as she shook her head. "But this shouldn't be about what's easy for me, but what's easy for us. And even if you're ready to give way…" She covered his hand with hers, "Do you honestly imagine it would make me happy knowing that he'll be spending his every waking moment sniping away at you, when he's not trying to convince me to leave you?" She made an irritated face. "At this point, I don't even know that he can help himself, but I do know he doesn't want to. He's still the same man who'd rather I was wandering about in the outside world with no idea who I was or where I'd come from than see me with you." She sniffed. "I suppose I can at least be glad he's never tried to hide it."

Rumple nodded back. "So if nothing has changed since earlier and your mind is still made up…?"

Belle sighed. "I know that Henry made sure you saw my speech at the town line that day that you and Emma went over. So you know I finally admitted to myself—and about half the town," she added with a wry smile, "that a lot of the… the demands I placed on you were less about you than about how I wanted everyone else to see you. And me," she added, almost in a whisper. "I-I don't mean to bring up the past now. Except I feel like I'm doing it again. Like I might change my mind after all, not because he needs me or because I want to… to nurse him back to health myself or because I have some fantasy that if he's forced to spend time with you, he'll eventually have to admit that you're a better person than he gives you credit for—which you are," she added, squeezing his hand for emphasis. "No, I'm afraid of what people will say when they hear that I didn't have him move in with us o-or go back to him for a few weeks."

"Because good daughters are expected to do so," Rumple stated.

"Well, aren't they?"

Rumple covered her hand with his free one. "I'd say that good daughters have a duty to ensure that an ill or injured parent receives the best care possible. It doesn't necessarily follow that those good daughters are the best qualified to deliver that care." His eyes locked onto hers. "You're hiring a nurse. A good one—even with my longstanding opinions on fairies in general, I'm not about to disparage their talents in that area. More to the point, you're hiring a caregiver who will approach the task without the… well, call it emotional baggage, which would make them vulnerable to," he hesitated, "strong personalities."

Belle closed her eyes. "Bullies, you mean," she replied.

"Well, I was trying to be diplomatic," Rumple remarked.

Despite herself a weary chuckle escaped her. "I do wish that things could be different," she said. Then she took a deep breath and seemed to collect herself. "But since they aren't, Merryweather asked me to stop by her office to discuss arrangements. Would you like to come with me or would you rather wait here?"

Rumple smiled. Then he released her hand and fumbled for his cane. He'd follow this woman to the ends of this earth or any other; three floors up by elevator was scarcely an imposition.

"I ought to get some better shoes," Belle murmured, as Rumple unlocked the shop. As Rumple turned to her, she smiled self-consciously. "I guess it's been at the back of my mind since Dr. Whale explained about Cruella. If she hadn't been in heels, she might not have lost her balance." She sighed. "I don't want something like that happening to me."

Rumple nodded soberly. "It's crossed my mind as well," he admitted. "But you didn't ask for my opinion and I didn't want to say anything until you did." He pushed the door open and gestured to Belle to precede him.

Belle sighed. "I've been thinking about it for a while, even before all of this happened," she said. "I mean, I've had to wear runners for kickboxing and I must say they're more comfortable." She winced. "I guess I've never liked being… short."

Rumple chuckled. "I believe I can understand that."

"I know I'll always be a little girl in my father's eyes—which isn't always a good thing," she added. "But being mistaken for a child isn't exactly desirable when one is in their teens." She made a face. "Or older. Heels just put me on a," her lips twitched, "a better footing, I suppose."

"So you came to depend on something that's proving more dangerous than you realized," Rumple nodded. "Again, something with which I've some passing familiarity."

Belle smiled. "I'm not saying I'll be wearing flats from this point onward. But I think I might try lower heels. Or wedges."

"Well. Whatever you decide—"

The bell over the door jangled behind them and both turned as one. Rumple felt his face settle into its usual inscrutable mask when he saw the four newcomers in the doorway. He supposed he should have been expecting them.

Regina took another step forward and Snow, David, and Maleficent followed suit. "Rumple," Regina greeted him. "We need to talk."

"Well," Lily said, getting to her feet, "it's been great meeting you and… thanks for covering for me. But I should be going."

Dopey blinked. You said you didn't have a place to stay, he typed.

"I don't," Lily admitted. "But I can't just move in with you."

Not forever, no. For a few days is different. Or do you have money for a room? I can take you to Granny's.

"Your grandmother?"

Not mine. Dopey's smile was back, as he explained that he'd been referring to the woman who ran the bed and breakfast.

Lily shook her head. "No, that won't work. Look, your brother's right to be scared of me. Not just because I can turn into a dragon. Because even when I don't mean to, I hurt people. Listen. When I was about fifteen, I met someone; a girl about my own age. She was in a grocery store, trying to shove some Pop Tarts into her coat. Let's just say she wasn't very good at it. I came to her rescue, we hit it off, and spent the day together. I'd never had a real friend before—I mean, sure, people were nice until they got to know me, but once they did…" Her voice trailed off. "Anyway, I didn't want it go that way this time, so I tried to be the kind of person she thought I was. She was on the run from Child Services and assumed I was, too. I didn't set her straight. Anyway, we had a blast—until my dad showed up to take me home." She glanced nervously at Dopey, waiting for his face to harden, his eyes to go flat, his hand to point toward the door. Instead, he just nodded.

She took another breath. "Once she knew I'd lied about that, she wasn't interested in excuses or explanations. She didn't care that I was just as lonely and miserable with a home as she was without it. And I guess maybe I could understand that, but I still felt closer to her than I had to anyone else. Anyway, a few months later, I tracked her down at her new foster home. This time I really was on the run. See, my folks had kicked me out. They called me 'unmanageable' and I guess I was. I took up with this guy; he looked out for me and we had some good times. Until we decided to hold up a Tom Thumb…"

"Let's not bandy words," Maleficent said quietly. "I've been apprised of my daughter's recent activities and I'm here to discuss reparations."

Rumple raised an eyebrow. His gaze flickered to Belle, who pressed her lips together firmly and gave a slight nod. "Do tell," he replied.

Maleficent took a step forward. "I want to get to know my daughter. Something that's not likely to happen if you're out for her blood. So. What will it take to get you to back off?"

Rumple frowned. "I must admit that I wasn't expecting this delegation," he murmured. "But it seems to me that I'm not the only wronged party and," he locked eyes on Regina, "it's certainly not my place to speak for others with similar claims." A faint smile came to his face when Regina flushed and lowered her eyes. "So, if you'll excuse me for a moment," he continued a bit more pleasantly, "my wife and I need to discuss your query in private." He held out a hand to Belle, motioning toward the back office with his other one.

"We'll try to be brief," he added. "And I trust you'll touch nothing in our absence."

It wasn't a request.

As the two disappeared into the other room, Maleficent looked at the Regina, nonplussed. "Not one of the reactions I was anticipating."

"Times change," Regina murmured.

"So I'm learning."

"So," Lily sighed, ending her account by describing how she'd stormed away from her mother and met him, "are there any bridges left in this town I haven't burned? Or should I just cut my losses and clear out before I'm facing down a mob with torches and pitchforks?

Dopey pressed his lips together and pushed them in and out. That's why I didn't tell my brother you were here, he typed. He hesitated for a moment before adding, Maybe taking you to Granny is a bad idea, too.

"Yeah," Lily sighed again. "That's about what I figured."

That doesn't mean you should go, Dopey typed.

"Yeah? Give me one good reason I should stay."

Running away doesn't solve anything.

"I dunno, it's been working out pretty well, so far," she muttered.

Really?

"No. But what choice do I have? After everything I've done, even I wouldn't give me a second chance. And if I did, I'd blow it anyway."

Dopey regarded her soberly for a moment. Then he nodded. Probably. Lily opened her mouth to respond, but stopped when she realized that he wasn't finished. Just like Emma, Rumpelstiltskin, Regina, Belle, Hook… Do you want me to keep listing names or do you have enough examples?

Lily shook her head. "I've got enough."

You aren't the only person in this town with a bad history. They'll understand. He frowned. But you should give them some time to calm down. You did manage to tick off just about everyone on that list yesterday.

"Great."

Dopey frowned. Your mother might help. Lily snorted, but he kept on typing as though he hadn't heard her. She knows Regina and Rumpelstiltskin. She might be able to talk to them.

Lily swallowed. "After the way I left her, she probably doesn't want anything else to do with me." She took a breath and let it out. "All she wanted to do was know me. But nobody who does ever sticks around once they find out what I'm really like."

She's your mother.

"Yeah, so think about how it would feel if she decided she'd wasted all these years worrying about me and that Snow White and Prince Charming had done her a favor after all."

Dopey shook his head. I don't think so. My brother told me that she went to Snow White and David; his name isn't Charming, by the way. She wants their help in finding you. That was after you left. She hasn't given up. You shouldn't either.

"Yet," Lily said gloomily. "She hasn't given up yet. She just met me today. Give her time."

Give her a chance. Don't be afraid to take one for yourself, either.

"Who's afraid?" Lily demanded.

Dopey regarded her soberly. You.

"What, of her? Of them? Please."

Dopey shook his head. A minute ago, you were saying you burned bridges. Now that I tell you that you can probably get another chance, you're holding back. If you're not afraid, then he stopped typing and looked at her again. Then we already know I'm Dopey. Help me understand.

"Will you quit doing that?" Lily snapped. "You keep falling back on your name like it has to define you. It doesn't!"

Dopey shrugged. You keep falling back on your Darkness like it has to define YOU. Why should it?

Lily sucked in her breath. Then she exhaled noisily. For several long moments, her eyes darted back and forth from the screen to the dwarf to the floor. Finally she muttered, "Sheesh, I don't know which one of us is the bigger dope here."

Dopey grinned. Me. Obviously.

Lily laughed.

Belle and Rumple weren't in the back room for more than five minutes, but it felt like a good deal longer to the delegation that awaited them on the shop floor. When they emerged, the others leaned forward expectantly. The two exchanged a resigned glance, faintly-concealed exasperation evident on both faces. It wasn't until Belle nodded, her mouth a thin line, that Rumple smiled and locked his eyes on Maleficent.

"As far as restitution for what was done to me…" Rumple spoke slowly and deliberately let his voice trail off. He sighed. "While I do have a valid claim against your daughter, I'm not forgetting a certain incident in our shared past. One that involved a chernabog?" He waited until he saw recognition spark in the dragon's eyes. "It would appear that, just as I have a grievance against your daughter, you have at least as strong a complaint against me. Perhaps, one might make a case that the two grievances would… cancel one another out?"

Maleficent blinked. Then a faint smile curved on her lips. "One might," she agreed, just as slowly. "Is that a case you're willing to make?"

"That I relinquish my claim against your daughter, providing that you relinquish yours against me?" Rumple nodded. "I am. However, as I stated earlier, this is only with regard to my claim. I don't pretend to speak for anyone else involved."

"I understand," Maleficent nodded. She turned inquiringly to Belle.

Belle shook her head. "I have no quarrel with you. Not anymore," she said firmly. "As for your daughter, I'd want to speak with her before I decide anything." It wasn't the entire truth. The events of the last couple of days were still too fresh and raw in Belle's mind for her to display any degree of magnanimity. Her father was still sliding in and out of consciousness. The clock tower and library were a ruin. And as for what Lily had done to Rumple, well even if Rumple could forgive it, Belle didn't know that she could. She kept picturing how she and Emma had discovered him in that cage, and the shape he'd been in when they had, and each time she did, she felt her anger boiling anew. She needed more time and she was stalling for it—something Rumple had suggested when she'd made her feelings plain. One day, somehow, she knew that she would find a way to forgive all of this. After all, Good didn't seek vengeance or retribution. One day, she'd understand how. But not today.

Maleficent nodded again. "I suppose that's fair enough," she admitted. "At the moment, though, I'm afraid I don't know how to find her."

David spoke up then. "We were hoping that a locator spell might—"

"—or that sphere you used to find David," Snow interrupted.

Rumple shook his head. "That would work for a broader expanse of terrain," he said. "But this town is but a speck on a rather large map. The sphere would only tell us that she's in it, not provide an address. As for a locator spell," he turned once more to Maleficent. "Do you have anything of hers?"

Maleficent shook her head sadly.

Rumple sighed. "Well, there is something else we might try, but it would be a great deal less reliable."

"Less reliable is still better than nothing," Regina pointed out.

"True," Rumple agreed. He turned to his wife. "Would you feel up to managing the shop?" he asked. "I'll need to obtain certain materials for this. One can hope that the queen's vault will furnish all of them, but if any are lacking, I'll need to stop off at home and pick up what's needed from the basement."

Belle really would have preferred he stay with her. If the hospital should call with news of her father, she'd much rather he be close by. Still, she forced herself to smile and answer, "Of course."

Belle looked up as the bell jangled, interrupting her in the middle of her book. Her face relaxed in a smile when she saw Emma. "Rumple's not here," she said quickly.

Emma smiled back. "That's okay. I came by to see how you're holding up, too." Her smile dimmed slightly. "How's your father doing?"

Belle sighed. "Dr. Whale's optimistic," she murmured.

"Well, that's something. But between that and the elevator and…" She shook her head. "I'm not even going to pretend I have any idea what you're going through, but…"

"Emma?"

Emma shook her head. "I heard somewhere that you shouldn't just ask if there's anything you can do; you should come up with something more… I don't know, concrete? Specific? Only I can't. So, uh…" She shrugged apologetically. "If there's anything I can do…?"

Belle exhaled. "You know, besides Rumple, I think you're the first person who's even asked that much. Thank you."

"How are you holding up?" Emma asked seriously.

Belle started to murmur that she was fine and thank Emma for asking, but to her own surprise, the words that actually emerged were, "Horribly. I'm trying to be strong for Rumple, for what's coming for my father, for whatever Lily o-or Maleficent might be planning or whatever comes next, but I'm not! I'm sorry, but I'm just not that strong! A-and now, Dr. Whale says that I'm not even really responsible for Cruella, so I feel like I have to pull myself together and I slept in this morning and missed my kickboxing and I could really stand to kick something right now and…" She glanced nervously at Emma.

Emma regarded her patiently and Belle couldn't quite read her expression. "I didn't know all of that was going to come out," she finished with an embarrassed mutter.

Emma shrugged. "I think it had to, sooner or later. Do you need to be here? I mean, are you doing anything that can't wait, or do you want to get away for a bit?"

Belle hesitated. "I have my phone," she said. "So if Rumple or the hospital need to get in touch with me, I," she squared her shoulders. "I suppose I could lock up. Why?"

"Well, I don't know much about kickboxing," Emma admitted. "But I've taken a few women's self-defense classes. If you're looking for a sparring partner, I think I could fit the bill." She smiled. "And if that doesn't work, I can show you how to dismantle a toaster; that's what I sometimes do when I'm ticked off."

"And put it back together again, I hope," Belle murmured, smiling just a bit as she came out from behind the counter.

"Yeah," Emma nodded, "I ought to learn how to do that part too, one of these days."

Rumple trailed a half-pace behind the others until they were actually inside the vault. Then he stepped to the fore, having eyes only for the contents of her shelves. Regina and the others observed as he took down a hollow glass sphere from one nook, a jar from another cranny, and several pouches from various ledges and niches.

"This wouldn't be from a flaga, would it?" he asked, lifting a squat round jar, in which a single eyeball floated in viscous fluid with a faint amber tinge."

"I should hope it is," Regina replied tartly. "Otherwise, there's a certain peddler I'll need to have a few choice words with, even at this late date. Why?"

Rumple cleared his throat. "To see your daughter's past," he said, turning to Maleficent, "would be easy enough. With an object that was earmarked for her use—whether or not it actually came into her possession—I could pull that up easily enough." He smiled. "As it happens, there is such a bauble currently residing in my shop; we discuss returning it at some later time."

Maleficent's eyebrows shot up. "Am I to understand that a teething rattle I thought left behind in our land made the crossing with the Dark Curse?"

"It did. And it's certainly of no use to me, though I'm sure I could find a buyer if you're not interested." He shrugged. "Your daughter's rather past the age when it would be of use to her."

"It's been in my family for generations," Maleficent said, and though she tried to suppress her excitement, Rumple detected it easily enough. "I'm loath to part with it unnecessarily. But as to the task at hand?"

Rumple nodded. "Unfortunately, a locator spell wouldn't work on an object your daughter never even saw, let alone touched. But I believe that I can craft something that will. I don't imagine that either of you are familiar with divination spells?"

Regina shook her head slowly. "I know we touched on them briefly when you were teaching me," she said, "but I wasn't much interested in pursuing them then. And later, when I keeping tabs on the object of my hunt," her smile was slightly apologetic, though her tone was light as she and Snow glanced at one another briefly, "well, I had Sidney. He was reliable enough and it was his own power that trapped him in my mirror, so while all magic comes with a price, I much preferred having the payment devolve on him."

"A fair point," Rumple nodded approvingly. "Maleficent?"

"Sadly, not my area of expertise" the dragon admitted.

Rumple sighed. "Well, no matter, I suppose. I know how to fashion the device we need. But as my own magic is less reliable than I'd like for this sort of work, I'm afraid that shortcuts are out of the question." His lips curved in a faint smile. "If your Majesty has any crossword puzzle magazines or Mills and Boon novels at hand, I'd suggest producing them. We're going to be here for quite some time."

"You're upset," Astrid said with some dismay, taking in Leroy's scowl. "I suppose I could just keep staying at the convent until the clock tower's repaired; it wasn't so bad last night." She sighed. "Though if Blue comes back…"

Leroy shook his head. "I'm not really upset, sister. Astrid," he amended. "And I know that after my brothers and I took Snow in when she was on the run from the queen, it's not like I've got any room to talk. But the town will."

"Sorry?"

Leroy sighed. "You're a single woman, sister. Robin Hood's a widower. The two of you sleeping under the same roof…"

Astrid released a startled laugh. "B-but he's with Regina!" she exclaimed. "And I certainly don't have any romantic feelings for him, nor he for me. This is just… business," she sputtered. "Someone has to look after the baby when he can't, and with Zelena loose…" Her voice trailed off for a moment. Then she added, "Anyway, it was Regina's idea, so I'm sure she doesn't believe—"

"I know," Leroy held up his hands in a placating gesture. "But tongues flap and reputations get ruined sometimes. Remember what happened a few Miners Days back, after Katheryn found out about Mary Margaret and David."

"That's hardly the same thing," Astrid protested. "I mean, they were married; they just didn't remember it!"

"And neither did anyone else," Leroy pointed out. "That's not the point. The point is that Kathryn stormed over to the elementary and slapped Mary Margaret in the middle of lunch—say around 12:30 for the heck of it—and blasted her for having an affair with the man everyone thought was her husband. By the time school let out at 2:45, everyone had their version of the story and Mary Margaret's name was mud. It took less than three hours—not even half the afternoon." He sighed. "Look. I'm not saying you can't watch the kid. But I don't think moving in with him is the best idea. You still have that job working for Mrs. Herman, right?"

Astrid nodded. "I took today off; after last night, I wasn't sure I was in any frame of mind to go in, though looking after the little ones might have distracted me. And then, Regina and Robin approached me and… I've been debating." Her face fell. "I guess you're right."

"Hang on, sister," Leroy said, placing his hand on her arm. "Just because I don't think you should move in doesn't mean I think you can't help." He smiled. "You work at a daycare, for crying out loud. No reason you can't watch the kid there. And after hours, there's no problem with your babysitting her, whether at Robin's place or at the convent. The problem's with you and him spending time alone together, not with your looking after a baby."

"He also asked me if I'd mind keeping an eye on Roland, now that they'll be in town, away from the Merry Men," Astrid murmured.

Leroy shrugged. "Still not a problem."

Astrid smiled. "I guess I wasn't thinking. Nobody expects fairies to have… feelings," she admitted. "Not like the kind I have for you. And the same applies to nuns. It just… didn't occur to me."

"I know," Leroy nodded. "If I hadn't seen it with Mary Margaret, it probably wouldn't have occurred to me either."

"I'll call Robin then," Astrid said, "and tell him what you suggested. I guess I can stay at the convent for now, at least." She smiled a bit apologetically. "Leroy?"

"Hmmm?"

"As long as I am staying there, Merryweather said I need to abide by the old seven o'clock curfew, unless my work schedule conflicts. It's already a quarter past six."

Leroy nodded and reached behind him for the coat he'd draped over the back of his chair. "No problem, sister. I'll walk you."

"Leroy?"

"Hmmm?"

Astrid's cheeks took on a pinker glow. "Just because I have to be back by seven doesn't mean the night has to end. I mean… if you'd like to stay for a bit, I can put some coffee on. Or maybe you could." She ducked her head. "Honestly, I've never been able to get the coffee machine to work right." She added quickly, "And it's not like we'd be alone together; I mean, the other fairies will also be in—those who aren't on night shift at the hospital. So, there's no worry about reputations." Her eyes widened. "Or should we be worried about yours?" she asked. "One man alone with all of us women…"

Leroy blinked. Then he caught the telltale twinkle in her eye and laughed. "Town lothario instead of town drunk?" he deadpanned. "Sounds like a step up to me."

Belle was smiling as she unfastened her seatbelt. "This was a good idea," she admitted. Once she'd stopped worrying about accidentally injuring Emma—or worse—she'd begun to enjoy herself. Emma had proven to be a strong opponent, countering most of her attacks and responding with a few good ones of her own. Belle had been surprised—and pleased—to learn that the kickboxing practice drills were paying off; her own body reacting before her mind could fully process what Emma was about. (She knew that Emma must have been holding back a bit, but she didn't mind.)

Emma nodded. "If you want, we could do this again in a day or so." She grinned. "Seriously, at the end there, you were making me work for it. I think I'm getting rusty and I don't want to get too dependent on magic," she admitted.

"In a day or two," Belle agreed, rubbing her elbow. "It's not just magic that comes with a price and I feel like I've just been handed a bill for the afternoon."

"I could—"

Belle shook her head. "No, I'm fine. I've had worse aches and pains after most classes. And… you might want to hold onto your power for a time when you really need it."

Emma nodded again, taking her point. "Okay. But if there's anything I can do…"

Belle nodded, smiling. "Thanks. I'm just going to have a quiet night in; Rumple texted me to say that he was going to be a while. I should put some supper on."

"Yeah, my mother sent me a similar message. I guess I'd better stop off at home for the car seat and then get Neal from Granny. Good night."

"You too."

Belle was smiling as she made her way up the walk. She was feeling better. It wasn't just that she appreciated Emma's stopping by to make sure she was okay—though she did appreciate it. And it wasn't just that she'd actually had fun this afternoon—though she had had fun. It was also that she'd realized that Rumple had been right earlier. Helping Maleficent was the right thing to do. No matter what Lily had done, Good didn't exact vengeance.

At the time, she'd forced herself to smile and agree, all the while thinking that there had been a time when she would have cheered to hear Rumple say those words aloud and mean them. She'd swallowed her own anger, told herself that she didn't really want to hurt Lily, and done her best to stifle the traitorous inner voice that had piped up with an, 'Oh yes, you do!'. And really, could anyone blame her for thinking it after all the pain and damage that Lily had caused?

But somewhere on the drive to the gym, while Belle had been bitterly running through the catalogue of harms that Lily (and Ursula and Cruella) had committed, she'd realized that she ought to follow Rumple's example and eschew any thoughts of retribution. She was Good, after all. And Good didn't exact vengeance…

…At least, she smiled, not when Wicked was almost certain to…