A/N: Belle's flashback appears in S2E1: Broken. Roland is reading from Abe Lincoln: The Boy Who Loved Books, by Kay Winters and Nancy Carpenter (Simon & Schuster, 2003; Aladdin, 2006).

Chapter 50

The copper bracelet wasn't especially heavy and it wasn't painful, but Zelena still hated it. Regina had presented it to her the night before and, as pleasantly as she'd explained its purpose, Zelena still imagined she'd seen smug triumph glinting in her sister's eyes as she'd fastened it.

"It's a bit more civilized than an ankle monitor, but it serves the same purpose. So long as you wear it, we'll be able to track your location. Or backtrack it to know where you've been, if need be."

She'd bristled at that. "So, I'm a prisoner, then?" she'd practically spat the words out.

Regina had sighed. "Actually, it's the opposite. You're free to move about as you like. You've got full use of your magic—except insofar as removing the bracelet, of course. And if anyone were to accost you in hope of settling some old score, well, at least we'd know where to find you—or what was left of you—in short order."

Somehow, Regina's reassurances hadn't mollified her. She paced about the upstairs bedroom restlessly and wondered what her daughter was doing at the moment.

If Regina had kept her spell components in the house, Zelena wouldn't have had to wonder, but without them, there was only so much she could do. (She'd already tried scrying through the hall mirror, but her sister had found some way to shield the glass against any such tampering. With time, patience, (and the proper ingredients!) she could probably break through such protections, but such activity would not go undetected.

She slumped down on the bed. Robin had agreed to come by tomorrow with their daughter for a supervised visit. For now, that would have to suffice. For now.

But not for long.

Rumple's ankle twinged and he grimaced. He hadn't moved from his work station in quite some time and winter was already a bad time for the old injury. He glanced surreptitiously at his watch and was startled to realize that he'd been seated for over four hours.

"Have you finished?" Maleficent asked hopefully.

Rumple shook his head. "Well. My work is done, but the device isn't quite ready yet," he said, gesturing to the crystal globe mounted in an open casket on the table—he certainly wasn't about to leave the sphere free to roll about and shatter on the floor, not after all his efforts. "The components need a bit of time to set, as it were. An hour," he said thoughtfully. "Perhaps, two. But then," he smiled, "we should have our answer."

Maleficent sighed. "I understand," she said. "But to be this close to finding her and still have to wait…"

Although his voice was jovial, there was a slight note of sympathy in his smile, when he replied, "Come now. I waited nearly two hundred years to learn my son's fate. You can hold on for another two hours." He winced. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I really must stretch my legs."

The dragon blinked. "Of course," she replied, as he walked past her, hobbling quite a bit more noticeably than he had earlier. "Rumple?" she called after him softly, as he left the room. He didn't stop and Maleficent couldn't discern whether he'd heard her. "Thank you," she murmured to his departing back.

Granny had been more than amenable to allowing them a room at the motel until they secured more permanent lodgings in town. "I've got a number of odd jobs around here that I've been meaning to get to," she told him gruffly. "Ruby used to take care of that sort of thing. I guess I could ask Marco, but if you're looking for a place to stay, I could probably use the work done more than I could use money you'll likely need for a down payment when you find a house. So. Room and board in exchange for a bit of repair work?"

They'd shaken hands on the arrangement.

Upstairs in their room, Roland now studied the cradle with a solemn expression. "She's really tiny, Daddy," he murmured.

"Well, she is somewhat premature," Robin replied, thinking that this was going to be one more messy, complicated situation that his son would need to contend with.

Roland nodded. "When are you going to name her? Are you going to have a coronation ceremony like Mr. and Mrs. Nolan did for Neal? With a potluck and everything?"

Robin smiled and set one foot down on the cradle runner, rocking it gently. "No, son, such ceremonies are all well and good for rulers, but the likes of us need nothing so grand. As for naming her, well, I'd like to get to know her first. A name's a serious thing and it's important to fit it to its wearer like a fine doublet. Or gown, as the case may be."

Roland nodded again, this time with a bit less certainty. "How long did it take for you to give me my name?" he asked.

"Your mother did that," Robin admitted, "less than an hour after you were born. But you came right about the time that we were expecting you to. Your mother and I had discussed a number of different options. I..." The subject was beginning to veer into uncomfortable territory. "I really don't want to discuss much of anything with Zelena right now."

Roland seemed to take the hint, for when he spoke again, he appeared to have changed the subject. "Daddy? In Sherwood Forest, did we wear Lincoln green?"

His father's eyebrow rose. "Lincoln green? Well, we did wear green and brown, the better to hide in the woods, but I've never heard tell of Lincoln green. What shade would that be?"

Roland shrugged. "I don't know. On the bus the other day, Skippy was telling me about a book he was reading with stories about us. About you, I mean; I'm not in it and neither's Skippy." He made a face. "Whoever wrote it got the names right, but some of it was just… weird. Anyway, in the book, you and all the Merry Men wore Lincoln green. Did the author get that part right?"

Robin thought for a moment. "I suppose if it's that important, I can ask Belle or one of the others to find an image of the color on the computer and compare it to the shade of our earlier attire. Is it?"

"Not really," Roland admitted. "I just liked the way it sounded. And there's a holiday next week—Presidents Day—we were learning about it in school. And one of the presidents was named Lincoln, too. Abraham Lincoln. Only in the pictures, he didn't wear green; just a black suit and a tall black hat. But he sounded like a good man anyway."

Robin smiled. "Well, I suppose that there could be a connection, though I'm at a loss as to what it might be."

"Maybe the school library would know," Roland brightened. "I can ask on Wednesday when we have library day."

"An inspired idea," Robin nodded approvingly. "Well. The hour's late. Is your homework done?"

"Yes, Daddy," Roland nodded.

"Very well. Would you prefer a bedtime story or to watch one of the," he frowned trying to remember what the objects were called, "the DVDs Regina gave you?" She'd gifted them nearly a score of the things—programs that Henry had enjoyed when he'd been Roland's age.

Roland hesitated. "It's just that I already know all your stories, Daddy. I don't know all the ones on the DVDs yet."

"Time was when you wanted to hear all of my stories over and over again," Robin remarked gently. "Very well. One DVD or thirty minutes; whichever comes first."

"Thanks, Daddy!" Roland bolted for the large duffle bag that held most of his possessions, pulling out a number of articles of clothing as he searched.

"You ought to fold those and put them in the chest of drawers while you watch," Robin remarked, smiling when his son nodded absently. He kept rocking the cradle, letting his mind drift as he looked down at his infant daughter.

"What are we to name you, I wonder?" he asked her gently.

The baby slept.

Belle sipped her tea and tried to tell herself that she was doing the right thing. Really, she wasn't doing anything but sitting back and letting matters take their course. Good didn't exact vengeance—no matter how much it wanted to. She knew this. Just like she knew that if she'd said aloud what she was really thinking—that Lily ought to go back to where she'd come from and that Maleficent was welcome to follow—she'd have shocked the whole delegation. They wouldn't be used to hearing such words from her.

I thought I was going to stop worrying about what people thought, she reminded herself. Maybe, but she still didn't want them to think less of her. So she hadn't put up more than a token protest when Rumple had told her that he was willing to try to overlook what Lily had done, at least, thus far.

But Good wasn't the only wronged party. Zelena wasn't likely to be anywhere near as forgiving. Belle smiled grimly. That Lily had tricked Zelena into eating something that had accelerated her pregnancy was bad. That she (and Cruella and Ursula) had kidnapped the infant and put her under a sleeping curse was worse. But that they'd brought Zelena to a point where she'd felt forced to reveal that she had her magic, that she'd felt compelled to humble herself by begging the Heroes for help… Zelena wouldn't forgive that.

It wasn't the first time, Belle reflected, that she'd had less-than-heroic thoughts about a dilemma or other situation. One couldn't control one's thoughts, but one could control one's actions. And Belle knew that she would never do anything to Lily beyond, perhaps, order her out of the shop or soon-to-be-restored library, should Maleficent's daughter ever choose to step foot in either. If Zelena wanted to take things further, well, there wasn't much Belle could do about that.

I could remind the others that Zelena's probably going to hunt her down. I could tell Rumple, at least.

She could. But then, they might actually stop the witch. And besides, Rumple had probably already recognized the danger.

What if he hadn't? What if she was the only one who had? Wasn't it her responsibility to…?

To what? Save the woman who threw my husband down a flight of stairs and locked him in a cage, helped curse and kidnap a baby, destroyed the clock tower and put my father in the hospital with injuries Dr. Whale is hopeful he'll recover from?

No, she wanted Lily to suffer a bit of justice for her misdeeds. And if Good wouldn't dole it out, Wicked would.

At the back of her mind, an old memory surfaced:

"You lied to me."

Rumple shook his head calmly. "No. I kept my word. I will not kill her."

She hadn't accepted his argument for a moment. "No," she retorted. "You toy with words like you do people. You're still a man who makes wrong choices…"

She was rationalizing letting Zelena deal with Lily if she and the others wouldn't. Was that any different from Rumple's rationalizing that the wraith could deal with Regina if he'd promised not to?

"Either I was wrong then, or I'm wrong now," she said aloud. "So, which is it?"

Her instincts told her that she should alert the others. Her commonsense told her that her instincts were usually wrong. Or was that her commonsense talking? Belle shook her head. In all likelihood, Rumple had considered the same things she had. Perhaps he'd even made the agreement with Maleficent knowing that Zelena would do what he'd agreed not to.

And if he'd mentioned his thinking to Belle, would she have cheered or condemned it?

She didn't know, she was confused, she kept going back and forth between justice and compassion and she couldn't tell which was most called for. She should talk to someone…

...Someone who might be shocked at the thoughts going through her head. Someone who would judge her, even if they never showed it—smiling sympathetically in her presence and avoiding her as much as possible from that point onward, as though her vengeful thoughts were a disease that they might catch. She wasn't brave enough to take that risk.

Belle heaved a sigh, drained the last of her tea, and put her mug in the sink. Maybe she ought to have an early night; who knew what the morrow might bring and she certainly hadn't been getting enough sleep lately. Everything would probably look clearer after a few hours slumber.

Or the situation might resolve itself by then, one way or another.

"So," Tony said slowly, "what do you want to do?"

Tia shook her head. "We're not really needed here. And we both have families we haven't seen in a while."

"So, head back in the morning?"

Tia nodded uncertainly. "I guess so…"

"Uh-oh," Tony said, lifting his sandwich to his mouth, and taking a bite. He chewed and swallowed, then took a sip of milk. "I know that look. You've got another one of those… feelings, don't you?"

Tia was silent for a moment. She picked up her spoon and traced a design in the dregs of her near-empty soup bowl. "I don't know if it's even strong enough to be a feeling," she admitted. "It… it almost feels like it's a choice. Like if we stay a little longer, we'll have something we can do, and if we go home, that's all right, too."

Tony frowned. "You mean, like when you finish playing a computer game and you unlock a bonus chapter?"

"I guess," Tia replied, still pushing her spoon in the remnants of her soup.

Tony took another bite of his sandwich. "Well, we can't stay here indefinitely," he pointed out after he'd swallowed again.

"I know. Let's take a day or two to shop for souvenirs, and if nothing's happened by then, I guess we'll head back."

Tony made a face. "I do want to get something for Dayani, but I want it to be special. Magic aside, this is a small town that doesn't get a lot of tourists and the closest thing I've seen to 'unique' around here is a postcard with the clock tower on it that says, 'Greetings from Storybrooke'. Not exactly fitting the bill. I mean, I thought it was the law or something that every town in coastal Maine—and I've explored a few of them over the years—had to sell seashell kitsch and plastic lobsters."

"Dayani's got better taste than that," Tia pointed out.

"Well, yes, she does, but besides the overpriced touristy junk, I've seen some really stunning shell art and jewellery in those other towns. Nothing like that here. And I wouldn't want to unleash anything magical to the world outside, even if would work over the town line." He frowned. "And some magical items probably could."

"Tony," Tia cautioned, "if they did, they'd be unpredictable. And if anything went wrong…"

"I know, I know," Tony held up a hand. "Curator of the Conjuring Arts Center, here, remember? No, I'd sooner try smuggling out uranium. If this place had any. Which it doesn't."

Tia smiled. "We'll check out Main Street tomorrow. And, if we really can't find anything, maybe we'll just stop off at Granny's and get a couple of dozen cookies. Trust me: Dayani will appreciate one of the chocolate brownie ones."

Tony grinned. "And I'm sure I can find a good home for the other eleven…"

Somewhere in the middle of the DVD, the baby woke up and started crying for a feeding. Robin attended to it, not noticing when one DVD program became two, and then three.

"Roland," Robin called, finally looking up from the infant in his arms when the bottle was nearly drained, "it's past time for bed."

Roland turned off the television with a resigned expression. "Could I tell the baby a story first?" he wheedled.

Robin's eyes narrowed. "It sounds to me as though you might be stalling, my son," he said sternly, but one corner of his mouth quirked upwards in a half-smile and there was a hint of a twinkle in his eye. "She's nearly done with her feeding. Go get yourself ready and we'll see."

"Yes, Daddy."

By the time Roland was in his pyjamas with his teeth brushed, Robin was burping his daughter. "All right," he acquiesced. "But a short one."

Roland nodded. "I'll read to her from the book Ms Parsons gave me in class yesterday; I have to do a report on it next week."

Robin smiled. He knew his son and he knew that Roland much preferred playing out of doors to sitting down with a book. In Sherwood, it hadn't mattered, but things were different here. And this was, perhaps, the first time that Roland had picked up a book without being prompted to do so.

"Abe Lincoln," Roland read the title carefully off the front cover, "The Boy Who Loved Books." He opened the thin volume and continued. "In a tiiii-ny log cabin, a boy listened with de… del… delight!" he broke off triumphantly. "A boy listened with delight to the sto-storytelling of his ma and pa…"

Robin's smile broadened, growing even wider when he glanced down at the cradle. His daughter's eyes were open, and she seemed to be listening with a rapt expression. Or perhaps, it was merely gas.

A new thought struck him and his eyebrows rose slightly. He wasn't about to rush into a decision just for the sake of making one, but he thought that Roland might have just innocently handed him a key that might resolve the dilemma that had been preying on him these last few days.

"It would be a good deal easier to be patient if you could advise me how much longer one might expect it to take, please," Maleficent remarked in a tone that held a near-perfect balance of arrogance and humility. They were nearly at the one-hour mark and, to her observation, the sphere looked exactly the same as it had when Rumple had first laid it in its casket.

Rumple smiled. "Would it help if I were to inform you that matters are progressing more rapidly than I might have thought?"

"Are they?" the dragon demanded.

Rumple nodded. "Oh, yes. It would appear that while my innate magic is currently somewhat unpredictable, such putterings and tinkerings as these appear to be proceeding surprisingly well." As if on cue, the globe on the table began to pulsate with a faint pearly glow. Rumple's smile broadened as he beckoned to her draw nearer. "Would you care to do the honors?"

Maleficent closed the distance between them in a single quick stride. "How does it work?" she asked.

"Easily enough, dearie. Hold the sphere in both hands and concentrate on the person you wish to find. Her image will appear; no need to speak her name. You should know that this bauble has a limitation: while it can show you anyone or anything you desire, it's no locator spell. Hopefully, you'll be able to tell where she is from her surroundings, but if not, I'm afraid the sphere can't lead you to her.

Maleficent took a breath and lifted the sphere from its stand. "I might not know this town well," she said, "but I'm in the company of several who do. If I can't tell where she is, perhaps one of you lot will."

"O-of course," Snow said, reassuringly.

Maleficent turned her head slightly in Snow's direction and a faint smile graced her face. Then she fixed her gaze intently on the sphere. "Where is this?" she demanded.

Regina frowned at the image that had appeared. "I don't recognize the house, but the view from the window seems to be looking out on the forest."

"Some of the rooms at Granny's do," David said slowly, "but that doesn't look like one of them."

A hand that wasn't Lily's appeared in the sphere, holding out some sort of Styrofoam cup from which steam wafted and a smile came to the young woman's face as she took it and her lips formed a silent, 'Thanks'.

"Images only, I'm afraid, dearies; the spell isn't meant to include sounds," Rumple murmured.

Maleficent nodded in acknowledgment. Then she asked sharply, "Who is that with her?"

"Why," Snow said in surprise as the second person's profile appeared in the sphere, "that's Dopey!"

"How did she meet up with him?" David asked.

"I have no idea," Regina remarked.

"Neither have I," Maleficent said, settling the sphere back on its stand. "But I've every intention of finding out!"

Lily was no gourmet chef, but Dopey had onions, carrots, celery, and mushrooms in his crisper and hacking away at them with a knife was a decent stress reliever. "Moment of truth," she said, looking over her shoulder at the computer station. "Do you want this to be a soup or a stir-fry?"

She waited for a response. Then she slapped her forehead and walked over to him. "Sorry. Forgot."

Dopey had deleted their earlier conversation. The Word document now read only, Stir fry, please. It's faster. There should be a package of hotdogs in the fridge. You can slice them. Under that, he had just typed, That's okay.

"Hotdogs in a stir fry?" Lily repeated dubiously.

Try it. You'll like it.

"Is it bad that I heard what you just typed in Aunt Frieda's voice?"

Dopey frowned. I think that depends on how you feel about Aunt Frieda.

"She was the only person back home who…" She shook her head. "I was going to say she was the only person I had who understood me, but that's wrong. She didn't understand me any better than anyone else, but she never acted like it mattered. She just… made it feel like it was okay to be me, whoever I was." She paused for a moment. "Sort of like you."

A smile tugged at the corner of her friend's mouth as he typed, Then it's not bad. And neither are stir-fried hotdogs with vegetables. Don't use a lot of spices; you won't need them. Just salt, pepper, garlic powder, and a spoon or two of the coarse mustard on the fridge door. Don't put the mustard in until the very end.

It sounded simple enough. Lily took down one of the frying pans than hung with several others from a rack on the kitchen wall and set it on the stove. She was just about to turn on the stove, when someone knocked authoritatively on the front door. "Your brother again?" Lily asked. Dopey was already out of his chair and motioning her to the curtained alcove. "You can't keep doing this," she murmured, but she pulled closed the curtain as he pulled open the door.

And then, a voice she recognized proclaimed in tones far more strident than Lily had heard from her earlier, "I've come for my daughter."

"Did you finish your homework?" Emma asked.

Henry sighed. "Yes, Mom."

"And you're ready for your science test?"

Henry's sigh was louder this time. "As ready as I'll ever be. Mom? Do you think the next time you have to fight a dragon, you could maybe try to steer the fight over to the school? If the dragon trashed that," he exhaled, "there'll be more time to study."

"I'm pretty sure you'd just have to take the test online," Emma said dryly. "Want me to have a look at it?"

Henry winced. "Uh… no thanks."

"Hey, I had to take science, too, when I was your age. Maybe I remember some of it."

"Uh… more than you remembered from the Chemical Reactions unit?"

"I said I was sorry about that one," Emma mumbled, looking away. He'd gotten a seventy-eight on his practice test for that one. Emma had sat up with him for two nights straight trying to puzzle out the parts that were confusing him. When he'd written the final for the unit, he'd scored a sixty-six. And more than half of his wrong answers had been answers Emma could have sworn were correct.

"I know. But I think I do better on my own." He ducked his head. "Just a little."

Emma smiled in resignation. "Okay."

"How come you didn't go with Grandma and Grandpa to find Lily?"

One of Emma's eyebrows shot up. "Well, since Regina did, someone had to be here for you."

"I know, but she's an old friend of yours, right?"

Emma winced. "That's… complicated."

"Try me."

"When you're older."

"Mom," Henry adopted a long-suffering expression, "that's not going to work much longer."

"But it is tonight." Her son started to say something, but Emma cut him off. "Hey, the Knicks are playing the Magic in about five minutes. If you're ready for your test, you want to watch?"

"Fine, I'll drop the subject," Henry said with a knowing look. "But I think I'd better review the unit one more time. Just in case."

Emma smiled. As Henry went back upstairs, presumably to get his text book, the smile wavered. Henry was a smart, perceptive kid, and she wouldn't have it any other way. But sometimes, he was a little too perceptive for her comfort.

Or maybe it was just her conscience niggling at her again, telling her that she really should have gone with her parents and Mal. She shook her head. Whatever she should or shouldn't have done, it was too late now. She couldn't leave Henry alone without supervision—even if it was something Regina had done in the past, when he'd been even younger. Regina had still been… well, evil back then, and Storybrooke had been a lot safer, relatively speaking. Plus, she didn't feel comfortable leaving her thirteen-year-old-son to look after her not-quite-six-months-old little brother. She was staying in this evening.

The curtain wasn't thick enough to muffle anything. It made Lily wonder why Dopey needed it at all; he lived alone. But if his brothers popped in unannounced a lot, and if he was serious about not wanting them to know what he was up to, then it made sense that he'd want to be able to screen off the computer.

"I know she's here!" Maleficent was saying. "This is the room we saw in the crystal. Now where is she? Speak!"

"Maleficent!"

Lily didn't recognize the new speaker, who, a moment later, continued less shrilly, "Dopey's mute. He can't speak. Put him down. You're scaring him."

There was a brief pause. "If he's harmed her, I'll do a lot worse than scare him. If he can't talk, how do we communicate with him? Can he read and write?"

There was another pause, nearly as long as the first. Then the second voice said, "David, go find Leroy, or another of the dwarfs. They can interpret."

"How long will that take?"

Another woman spoke up. "They're all scouring the town looking for her. They could be anywhere."

"I've texted them," a man's voice—almost certainly 'David's announced. "Hopefully, we'll hear back soon."

"Very well," Maleficent said. "Wait. The others are scouring the town? But not you. You do know where she is, don't you?"

There was no mistaking the menace in her mother's voice. It was hard to believe that this was the same woman who'd been pleading with her to stay, just hours earlier. This woman… Lily didn't know what she was capable of, but at that moment, she could readily believe that murder could be on the agenda. She wiped her hands on her jeans and squared her shoulders. Then, before she could second-guess herself, she pulled back the curtain. Maybe she didn't want to see her mother again, but she couldn't let her new friend be harmed either. Especially not if he was still trying to cover for her.

Dopey was pressed against the wall, shaking his head frantically, a terrified expression on his face. Maleficent had one hand flat against his throat; her other was flung back, fingers stiff, as though she was about to claw at him. One of the two men—the one she hadn't last seen in Zelena's cellar—was trying to hold her back, but Maleficent barely seemed to realize he was there.

So far, Lily's presence seemed to have gone unnoticed. She sucked in her breath. "STOP!"

As one, every eye in the room turned in her direction.

"Stop," Lily repeated. "Don't hurt him. I'm right here."