Chapter Fifty-One

"I'm here," Lily said again. "Let him go."

Maleficent had already done so. Lily hastened to Dopey. "You're okay?" she asked. Dopey nodded, clearly more than a bit rattled. Lily faced her mother once more.

"And now," she said grimly, "You can let me go, too."

"Lily," Maleficent said with a tremor in her voice, "please, don't do this to me."

"I didn't ask you to come charging after me," Lily pointed out. "I didn't ask you to attack my friends. This is on you." She shouldered her way past the others, her head lowered, as she made her way to the door and past it. Out the corner of her eye, she saw sympathy on some faces, disapproval on others. Well, she could do without the judgment; she'd had more than enough of that in her life already. She stormed into the street at a brisk clip and didn't look back.

As the door swung shut, Maleficent lowered her face into her hands and tried to stifle her sobs, while Snow patted her shoulder.


Lily hadn't gone more than five steps before she realized that she'd left her coat in Dopey's apartment. Terrific. The temperature had been hovering around the freezing point earlier—bracing enough in her sweater, but not too uncomfortable if she walked quickly. Now, though, it was probably around five degrees colder and it was going to get worse as the night wore on.

If she could figure out how she'd changed into a dragon before, she could probably be okay. Build a campfire, transform, light the thing, and change back. But she didn't know how to change and she wasn't sure if she'd be able to change back without her mother's help.

Her mother had come after her. Her mother had come after her and she hadn't been angry that Lily had run off before. Lily could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times the first circumstance had occurred. She didn't need fingers to count the number of times the second one had.

Why the hell did she have to threaten my friend? How could she possibly think that was okay? I can't believe her. Well, if she thinks I want anything to do with her now…

…She was worried about me.

Lily couldn't remember the last time that had happened either.

Good. It's her fault I'm freezing out here. If she hadn't stormed in and tried to hurt Dopey, I'd still be there. Let her worry. It'd serve her right if I got pneumonia or hypothermia or something.

Not that she wanted to freeze to death, of course.

She wrapped her arms around her torso and smiled when she spied a familiar sign in the distance. She could go into Granny's and get warm for a bit. Maybe they'd let her wash dishes in exchange for a place to sleep. Ordinarily, she'd just look for the coat hooks and make off with something roughly her size, but this was a small town. People knew each other here. And they'd probably recognize a missing coat if they saw one.

No, better not to risk it. If Granny's wouldn't let her earn a place to sleep, she'd have to find somewhere else to hole up. When it warmed up tomorrow, she could make her way back to the clearing and see if anyone had taken Cruella's car. If they hadn't, she could hotwire it and drive out of this dump. The car was too expensive and too conspicuous for her; it would only be a matter of time before it attracted notice. But she could drive it to a bus terminal, leave it in the parking lot and head off somewhere new; she'd done it before.

By this time tomorrow, Storybrooke would be only a memory to her.


Maleficent seemed to wilt more with each passing second. "I didn't mean…" she started to say. "I only thought…" She lifted her head and her eyes sought out Dopey. "I misunderstood the situation," she said.

Dopey shrugged.

"Wait," David said, "she's been with you all this time?" To the dwarf's answering nod, David asked, "any idea where she's headed now?" For a long moment, Dopey stood frowning. Then he slowly shook his head, but his fingers traced a pattern in the air.

David turned to Maleficent. "He doesn't know where she's gone, yet, but he's pretty sure he can find her if you give him an hour or two." He paused for a moment. "Or we could go back and try the globe again." It would mean a return to the vault; they hadn't wanted to risk shattering the fragile sphere in transit.

Rumple, shook his head. "I'd recommend a bit of patience," he said, sounding a bit distracted. "She's run off twice, now. Hounding her, no matter how noble the reason, is likely to put even more distance between you." He was frowning at Dopey, not in anger, but in puzzlement.

David nodded and turned back to the dwarf. "He's got a point; maybe you should wait until morning before you go searching. Anything we can do to help or have you got this covered?"

Meanwhile, Snow's eyes were darting from her husband to the Dopey, as her expression grew more and more bewildered.

And then a laugh from behind her made her jump and pivot.

Rumple chortled again. "Well played," he said to Dopey, patting his hands together lightly in silent applause. "Well played indeed, if a trifle embarrassing. For myself, I mean," he added. "For while names are my stock in trade, I must admit I missed a connotation in yours that I really might have spotted, if," he smiled benignly at the dwarf, "you were even slightly less competent at your post."

A slow flush crept up Dopey's cheeks and he ducked his head and tugged down his cap with both hands, though not quickly enough to hide the slight smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Competent?" Regina sputtered. "His name is Dopey! He's… He's a… I mean…"

Rumple glanced at her, chuckled again and turned his attention back to the dwarf. "It really is quite the show. And I do recognize the advantages of performing to expectations. Or at least, not challenging them. There's a price, of course, but it does leave one free to act unobtrusively, behind the scenes, as it were. As I said, well played."

David shrugged. "I thought more or less the same thing when I suggested it to him."

"Charming?" Snow asked, still looking confused.

David shot an inquiring look in Dopey's direction. It wasn't until the dwarf shrugged and nodded that he sighed. "I guess it's time you found out. During the battle for the kingdom," here he cast an apologetic look in Regina's direction, "in fact, right up until the First Curse brought us here, Dopey was our spymaster."


Snow waited until she and David were alone in the pickup truck—Regina was driving the other two back—before she let loose. "I cannot believe that you've kept this from me for all this time!" she cried, her voice rising and swooping as it always did when she was truly angry. "David, we should not be keeping secrets from each other! What else haven't you told me?"

David had been about to turn the key in the ignition, but he dropped his hand and looked at his wife. "I didn't want to keep it a secret," he said. "But I didn't think I had a choice."

Snow wasn't having it. "There is ALWAYS a choice!" she bellowed. "How, how could you have gone behind my back about something this important and never said a word?"

"Because it was that important," David said flatly. He took a breath. "Snow, we needed a spymaster, especially during the war. But if anyone had learned his identity, it would have endangered him. You were in King George's dungeon. I was in Regina's. We can compare notes, but I think we can both agree that neither of us would want Dopey languishing in either place."

"Of course not," Snow snapped with a bit less heat. "But you still shouldn't have kept it from me."

"I wanted to tell you," David said. "But…" He took a deep breath. "Snow, I love you. But keeping secrets isn't always your strong suit. And Regina and King George had spies of their own. I couldn't risk telling you then; not when the wrong word in the wrong place could have cost Dopey his life. And later, after the Curse broke, it was all in the past. It just… never seemed worth bringing up."

Snow nodded slowly, her mouth set in a grim line. "So, who did know? His brothers, of course?"

David shook his head. "Only Bashful."

"Bashful?"

"Well, Bashful and the handful of people we had infiltrating the enemy armies. Actually, I'm not even sure if they knew; what made Dopey so effective was the way most people perceived him: affable, kind of clownish, and not very bright. That last bit was an act, of course, but it's one he's pulled off for years. Anyway, he'd create the strategies and select the people… but it was Bashful who actually handed off the assignments. Meanwhile, Dopey would keep an eye on things close to home. Mostly, he'd just amble off into the city and see what he could overhear. Most people never gave him a second glance."

"But Bashful's… well…"

"He doesn't like to speak up in public; he hates crowds. But one-on-one? He can handle himself."

Snow was shaking her head. "I lived with both of them for months, and I never guessed—I-I mean…"

"You were friendlier with Grumpy and Doc," David pointed out. "They speak up more. Sneezy and Happy, too. Even Sleepy, when he's awake. Quieter types tend to get lost in the background. Which is… sort of where you want your intelligence people." He sighed. "So, are we okay? Or am I sleeping on the sofa tonight?"

"Charming!" Snow exclaimed, "I have never made you sleep on the sofa before, and I'm not starting now!" David sighed in relief. Then Snow added, "However, I may just hog all the blankets for next little while…"


Granny's eyebrows drew together in a frown when Lily made her pitch. "I haven't seen you in here before," she said. "What's your name?"

"Starla," Lily said, falling back on her usual alias. "I… lived in Sherwood," she said. "Look, I had a fight with my boyfriend and I don't want to go home tonight. Problem is, I just stormed off without my coat, and it wasn't until I was halfway here that I realized my wallet was still on my night table. So, I need a place to stay and since I can't pay for it right now, I was hoping I could…" She shook her head. "Pretty stupid, right?"

Granny's expression didn't change. But after a moment, she turned to the counter behind her, poured coffee from the carafe into a white ceramic mug, and set it down before Lily. "On the house," she said gruffly. "It sounds like you could use it."

"Thanks."

"As far as work, the supper rush is over and there aren't many dishes to wash. I don't suppose you know how to clean out a deep fryer?"

Lily thought fast. She'd worked in enough fast food restaurants to have cleaned more than her share, but she wasn't sure if it was a skill she ought to admit to. As she understood it, based on her conversation with Belle in the library over two weeks ago, the 'Sherwood Forest refugees' didn't have 'curse memories' and were still adjusting to the twenty-first century. She didn't think that they'd had deep fryers in the Middle Ages. "I'm sure I could learn," she said hopefully.

Granny sighed. "Well, I was thinking I'd have to do it myself," she said. "Let's hope it'll go faster with an extra pair of willing hands. Lord knows I've needed some since my granddaughter left." She put a slab of chocolate cake down beside the mug. "Get your strength up. You're going to need it. But once the job is done, I don't suppose we'll be having too many more people checking in tonight. I guess I can put you in one of the unassigned rooms."

Lily smiled. Then she tried the cake and her smile grew wider. She wasn't looking forward to cleaning the fryer, but if there was a room for her at the end of the task, it would be worth it. Especially if there was a chance of another slice of this cake…


"What did you mean, back there?" Regina demanded. Rumple had wondered how long she'd be able to contain herself. They'd been driving nearly five minutes before her curiosity got the better of her. "All that talk about names and expectations and…" She took a breath. "Just how did you put it all together?"

Rumple shrugged. "Come, now, dearie, you don't imagine I was the one feeding them information about your troop movements, do you?"

Regina hesitated. "It might have crossed my mind a time or two, considering that you did tell them how to break the curse."

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint, but no." He paused for a moment. "One thing I've had occasion to appreciate is that once one acquires a reputation, for good or ill, that reputation, that… perception tends to follow a person. To an extent, it has a tendency to predispose others to view them in a certain way and disregard any evidence to the contrary." He said this without a hint of bitterness, but he couldn't help but notice Regina's wince. "Don't take it so hard, Your Majesty," he murmured. "It's a reputation I took great pains to cultivate. It simply hadn't occurred to me that Dopey was doing the same thing until I observed how the prince addressed him."

"I didn't notice anything amiss," Maleficent spoke up from the back seat. "He was just… talking to him."

"Had you spent more time above ground," Rumple returned, "you'd likely realize how unusual that is. Nearly everyone in this town acts as though his inability to speak equates to an inability to think. When anyone bothers to address him at all, they talk to him as they might to a toddler: simple phrases, controlled vocabulary, liberal doses of condescension." He took a breath. "But the Prince, as you put it, simply spoke to him as he might anyone else and Dopey responded in kind." His voice turned thoughtful. "More to the point, when he made his queries, I thought it rather obvious that he wasn't just fishing for information. He was expecting it."

Rumple smiled as he continued musingly, "You know, in this realm, people tend to a less formal vernacular than was normally employed back in our land. 'Dopey' is certainly a colloquialism to start with and, when first I learned his name, I'd thought—and I think we all did—only of … well, let's call them, the pejorative connotations. But that bit of argot has another meaning. It's something of an outdated usage, but in some circles, 'dope' is commonly used as a synonym for information."

He hesitated for a moment. Then he added in a quieter tone, "In point of fact, until David announced it, I wasn't certain of the post he'd held under their administration. I suspected it when I voiced my appreciation for the act he's managed to perform, lo these long years, but I wasn't entirely sure. And even when the prince confirmed it, I was still slightly surprised to have guessed right. In hindsight, though, it does fit rather neatly."

"And you think he'll find her?" Maleficent asked.

Rumple shrugged. "He's already found her once when he wasn't looking for her. Imagine what will happen now that he is." Regina turned onto his street and slowed down. "I do believe that this is my stop," he remarked as she parked in front of his door. "I hope you ladies enjoy the rest of your evening. He glanced behind him at Maleficent.

"Truly, I wouldn't despair of your daughter quite yet, dearie. Those walls she's built up around her are meant for her protection and it will take time before she's willing to risk lowering them. As painful as it is—and I do speak both from observation and experience—I'd recommend giving her that time."

"Experience?"

Rumple shook his head. He might have brought it up, but he didn't feel like talking about Bae tonight. Not when Belle was probably waiting inside for him. "Another time, dearie. Good night."

He got out of the car and made his way up his front walk. To his surprise, Regina didn't drive off until he'd turned his key in the lock and pushed his front door open.


The motel room was clean. And if the bed seemed a bit too large for it and the sheets were a bit stiff, Lily had slept in far worse. Granny had given her a square of lasagne when she'd finished cleaning the deep fryer in case she got hungry later. She put that in the bar fridge she found inside a large cabinet. (There was a microwave on the shelf above it.)

The old woman had mentioned offhandedly that they were a bit short-staffed and she was welcome to bus tables in the morning if she needed to stay a second night. Lily was wondering why she was even considering the offer. It wasn't like she wanted to stay in this place.

She wondered if Dopey was okay. Maybe she could check up on him before she left. Just to make sure her mother hadn't hurt him or anything.

Her mother.

Her mother had come after her, she hadn't been angry and she hadn't tried to lay a guilt trip on her or force her to go back to the cave or…

Lily flopped onto the bed, let her feet hang over the edge, and kicked off her shoes. She'd spent years dreaming of being reunited with her mother. Then she'd thought her mother was dead and she'd lost the chance. And then, she'd gotten another one and blown it—just like she'd blown every second chance she'd ever had. She was cursed, no matter what anyone said.

Nothing had gone like it was supposed to. Maleficent was supposed to be some terrifying, all-powerful dragon lady, not this real, vulnerable person. Who could flip a switch and go from zero to scary at the drop of a hat, if this afternoon's performance was anything to go by. Lily smiled despite herself. Yeah, she hadn't appreciated her mother barging in and menacing the first friend she'd made in this town, but what if things had been different? Suppose that she'd run into someone like Zelena or Rumpelstiltskin—someone bent on exacting payback for some of the things she'd done over the last little while? If she'd been in their hands, well, she had to admit that her mother would actually have been… kind of awesome.

What the hell was she thinking? Lily shook herself. Maleficent had reached out to her twice already and she'd swatted her away both times. Even if she wanted another chance, she was an idiot if she thought she was going to get one.

She was leaving in the morning. The sooner the better.


The alarm went off at half-past six, as was its wont. Both Belle and Rumple awoke with near synchronous groans. "Kickboxing…" Belle murmured. "I called last night and they said I could join another class this morning to make up for the one I missed yesterday."

"The shop needs a dusting before it opens," Rumple said, pushing back the covers. "And the windows likely need a wash after…" His voice trailed off. When the clock tower had collapsed, it had brought down a wave of dust along with the debris and most of the shops on Main Street needed a decent hose-down—something that was easier said than done with temperatures hovering around the freezing point during the day and falling below it most nights. "Well. I'd best head over there. Shall I expect you after your lesson?"

"More like lunchtime," Belle said apologetically. "I'm going to stop by the hospital and see if Father's awake." She took a breath. "I'm not going to tell him," she said. "Not until he brings it up. He's going to be in the hospital for at least another week, Dr. Whale says; maybe even longer. I won't mislead him; if he tells me to move in with him or asks to come here—and I doubt he'd do that," she added with a sniff, "then I'll tell him what's been decided. But right now, he needs to be focused on recuperating. I've been… doing a little reading," she added with a self-conscious smile. "And one thing I've taken away is that a patient's mental state can impact recovery. If he feels like I'm rejecting him now… abandoning him…"

"…Then he might feel that he has no reason to improve," Rumple nodded slowly.

Belle's eyes went wide and a hand flew to her mouth. "I didn't mean…" she said, almost in a whisper.

Rumple shook his head quickly. "Of course you didn't," he reassured her, not certain if she was trying to apologize for reminding him of her past actions, or for the actions themselves. It didn't matter. "I hadn't meant to raise that old specter," he added. "And, if it helps, the chords your statement struck within me were strung long before we met." He smiled sadly. "I'd lived over two centuries before you entered my life, though I'm not entirely certain how."

Belle shook her head, but she was smiling back. "I'll make myself a sandwich for later. Should I fix one for you, too?"

"Please." He paused. "In any case, I think you made a valid point a moment ago. You made your decision; there's no need to rush to share it until you need to." He shrugged. "Considering your father's impression of me, he might be somewhat relieved to learn he won't be convalescing here. But raising the issue at this juncture probably would be premature."

Belle nodded.


Rumple was reaching for his over-boots when he spied a red-and-black plaid knapsack shoved into the corner of the coat closet. Closer inspection showed it bore a tag with Skippy Lapine's name on it. Rumple shook his head, but he was smiling a bit. Well. He'd either ask Henry to pass the bag on to the boy's sister… or he might just deliver the item himself. He'd been meaning to make Mrs. Lapine's acquaintance ever since Cecily had disclosed her ancestry. This might be just the pretext he needed.


Rumple was able to attend to the lower window panes with little difficulty. The six uppermost glass squares—three to each of the windows on either side of his door—as well as the three on the door itself, were going to be more problematic. The sidewalk was not completely level at this time of year; while the snow plows did a decent job of ensuring that pedestrians could safely walk about, a thin uneven layer of packed snow remained. It proved no impediment to traversing the pavement. Even with his cane, Rumple could do so easily enough. However, when it came to maneuvering a long-handled brush over his head, his bad ankle would make the task far more onerous. And he couldn't trust a stepladder not to wobble.

"Need a hand?" a voice offered quietly from behind.

Startled, Rumple turned. His face relaxed in a smile when he saw who had spoken. "If you're certain it'd be no trouble," he admitted, "I'd be obliged."

Robin Hood smiled back. "You can discharge that obligation momentarily," he said, reaching for the brush. "Oh, don't look so dismayed," he added with a slight roll of his eyes. "I was coming to ask your advice at any rate. Truth be told," he went on, still holding his hand out, "I think my decision's made, but I thought you might spot some nuance I've missed."

Rumple's expression turned guarded. "What sort of matter?" he asked cautiously.

Robin took another breath. "The naming of my daughter."


Lily awoke without the benefit of an alarm clock, something that usually happened when she slept on an unfamiliar mattress—even if it was more comfortable than the one she'd been using recently. She pushed back the covers with a groan, and sat up. She didn't have a change of clothes with her; she'd have to go back to the cabin for that, if she could even find it. Instead, she settled for scrubbing under her arms with soap and water, rubbing some of the scented body lotion that had been on the bathroom sink ledge over her arms and torso, and putting on the clothes she'd flung on the floor when she'd come up here the night before.

She checked the time and groaned again. It was ten to eight. Granny had told her to be down at seven-thirty if she wanted to help with the breakfast rush. Lily didn't, not really, but there wasn't anything waiting for her over the town line. She'd left her latest home in Lowell, Massachusetts over a month ago, now and she'd been over two months behind in her rent at the time. Even if her landlord hadn't yet started eviction proceedings, she couldn't pay one month of back-rent right now, let alone the three she owed plus the current month's. And she'd left her waitressing job without notice, so good luck getting back in there. She'd probably have to move again, try her luck elsewhere—maybe somewhere in Indiana like Fort Wayne or South Bend, where rents were cheap. Maybe she could scrounge up enough for first-and-last or squat in some foreclosed house until she managed it. But to get to Indiana, she needed gas money or bus fare. Maybe she could stay for a few more days, if Granny would let her work a few shifts and pay her something besides just letting her sleep here.

But not if she couldn't be ready to work on time. Lily shrugged into her jacket, stepped into her Cliffs boots, and took a minute to lace them up. Then she made her way downstairs to the diner.

She'd barely reached the counter when Granny thrust a carafe of coffee at her. "I hope you're here to help," she said gruffly. Without waiting for an answer—or, perhaps, taking Lily's quick, involuntary nod for the affirmative it was—she ordered, "Go around to the tables and see if anyone wants a refill. Don't ask anyone who doesn't already have a cup in front of them. When you run out, come back here; I'll have a fresh pot ready."

With that, she was moving down the length of the counter, a pad and pencil in hand, to take orders from the diners seated before it on high, round stools.

Lily shook her head slightly and went off to do as she'd been told, resolving that she wouldn't leave the diner until she could talk to Granny and get a solid agreement about hours and pay in writing. Squaring her shoulders, she approached one of the booths, where a blonde woman wearing a gray suit with a matching Panama hat sat, seemingly lost in thought. "More coffee?" she asked, pasting on her best customer service smile.

The woman turned to face her and Lily nearly dropped the carafe.

It was her mother.


Robin didn't say another word on the subject until the windows were clean and he was carrying the stepladder into the shop.

"In the corner," Rumple murmured, gesturing to the spot behind the counter. He waited for the outlaw to comply. Then, smiling, he laced his fingers together and flexed them. "Now, then," he said. "How might I assist you?"

Robin took a breath. "I think that you can appreciate that I don't want to have many dealings with her," he said. "I don't want to consult her on the matter, but at the same time, I don't want to antagonize her needlessly." He shook his head. "Children pick up more than adults might wish and I don't want my daughter's earliest memories to be of barely-suppressed hostility and resentment." He sighed. "So, I suppose I'm trying to find a name that she would probably approve of, but I mean to choose it."

Rumple nodded slowly. "Well, dearie, if you're looking for a compromise…"

"I thought I'd need to," Robin admitted. "But then, it hardly seemed fair to the child to saddle her with a name that neither of us wanted, just because it was the lesser of several evils. Yesterday, I… think I found one. Or rather, Roland did." He set a slip of paper down on the counter.

Rumple's eyebrows shot up. "I can see the appeal," he murmured. "Both to her and to you." He chuckled then. "I'm familiar with some of the salient features of your… story, at least, as it's known in this land. I recognize the significance."

Robin smiled. "And, to hear Roland tell it, also the name of one of this land's heroes."

Rumple nodded. "I would make one suggestion, though," he said. "In this land, there are certain spelling conventions to consider, particularly with regard to names. While they aren't as rigid as they once were, I think that with a slight alteration," he picked up a pen, scratched out one letter, and wrote another above it, "there. It won't change the pronunciation, but it's now a bit more… feminine. And if it should happen that she finds it too unconventional when she grows older, well," he smiled, "the first syllable is a proper name in its own right; she might prefer to use that."

Robin studied the paper once more. Then he folded it up again and placed it in his pocket, just as the bell over the door jangled. "Neither of those points would have occurred to me," he admitted, smiling back. "Thank you."

"You're quite welcome," Rumple nodded. Then he looked past Robin and his smile widened when he saw who had just come in.

"Booth!"

August came forward, a worried expression on his face, as Robin exited. "I just got back. Going by the state of Main Street, it looks like I missed some excitement. What the hell happened to the clock tower?"

Rumple sighed. "That's… rather a long story."

August shrugged his knapsack off of his back and set it on the floor with a soft thud. "I've got time."


"Lily," Maleficent said quickly, "please. Could we just… talk?"

Lily blinked. "What, here?" she demanded.

"Anywhere you like. I-I'd like to get to know you. I can't give you the years we missed," she plunged onward, "and I won't stop you if you want to leave, but could we talk just once? Before you do?"

She heard it then, much as she wanted to deny it. Her mother was fighting to keep her voice steady, doing her best to hide her emotions, but there was a plea in her words that Lily recognized—one she'd heard in her own all too often. Don't turn away. I want to make this right, but I don't even know what I did wrong. Please tell me there's still some way to fix this. Don't go. Don't send me away. She'd never been able to say any of that out loud, either; keeping her walls high was the only protection she'd ever had. She'd thought that now that it turned out she could change into a dragon, things would be different, but apparently not. She took a breath. "I'm working," she said abruptly. And then something made her add, "Wait till I come off shift?"

Maleficent's eyes widened slightly. And then, an uncertain smile came to her face which quickly widened and warmed. "O-of course. I'll be here."

"Might be a while," Lily cautioned.

"I'll wait."


August was shaking his head halfway through Rumple's recap of recent events. "I leave for a few days and…" He let his voice trail off. "But you're okay?"

Rumple sighed. "It's not the first time I've been in captivity. Neither was it the longest nor the most onerous."

"Which doesn't answer the question," August pointed out.

Rumple shook his head. "It was… unpleasant," he said, staring at a fixed point on the counter. "Suffice to say that you're not the only person whose past occasionally surfaces to haunt them. But," he smiled faintly, "I'm managing."

"And Belle…?" August asked.

Rumple winced. "I'm not certain. Her words, her actions, they're all perfectly understandable, albeit not words she might have said or actions she might have made a year ago. But as to whether they bespeak a darker mindset or merely a different one?" He shook his head again. "I'm afraid it's not so clear-cut." He forced himself to smile. "I'm trying to support her at this time, and gratifyingly enough, I'm not the only one. Perhaps, that's all she needs."

August frowned. "If I can help…" he began. "I mean, if you want to talk or anything, I'm not going away again so fast."

The bell jangled, startling both of them and Rumple's head jerked upwards toward the two figures who had just stepped inside. "I'll take the matter under advisement," he told August in a tone that implied he considered the conversation over for now, as he smiled pleasantly at Tony and Tia. The two smiled back. Then Tony did a double-take.

"It's August Booth, isn't it?" he asked with some surprise.

August blinked. Then a warm answering grin split his face. "Mr. Castaway? Whoa, how long has it been—?"

"Around fifteen years, give or take," Tony laughed. "So, this is where your research brought you!"

August shook his head. "No, I knew about this place all along. But the research helped for other stuff. What are you doing here?"

Tony shrugged. "We—uh, this is my sister Tia, by the way—"

"Hi," Tia interjected."

"We had some business here," Tony finished. "Now it's over, but maybe we can catch up later on, before we head out."

"I see you two know each other," Rumple remarked dryly.

August nodded. "You remember when we were leaving New York and you got upset that we'd skipped the conjuring arts center? Mr. Castaway's the curator there. Like I told you back then, I spent a lot of time there researching magic."

Tony laughed. "We're appointment only, but Mr. Booth's name kept cropping up on the list. He never asked for special treatment, but he kept requesting sessions. For," he glanced at August, "what, the better part of a year?"

"At least," August nodded. "Yeah, we should catch up. Maybe meet at Granny's for lunch?"

Tony and Tia looked at one another for a moment and then nodded. "Sounds good," Tony agreed. "Let's say around 1:30? We should beat the worst of the crowd by then."

August grinned. "You're on." He checked his watch. "I should go," he said apologetically. "My father needs my help on a roofing job and I'm supposed to meet him in about ten minutes. Unless," he looked inquiringly at Rumple.

Rumple shook his head. "Go on, then," he replied. "And thank you for stopping by."

As the shop door closed behind the younger man, Rumple directed his attention back to his other customers. "Is there something with which I might assist you?" he asked.

Tony returned the smile. "Well, before we ran into—before I ran into a familiar face, we actually came in to do some souvenir hunting," he replied. "We're sort of looking for things we wouldn't find in any of the other towns along the coast."

"Ah," Rumple's smile broadened. "Well, you've come to the right place. Were you looking for anything in particular?"

"I don't know," Tony shrugged. "Just… something that says 'Storybrooke', I guess."

Rumple raised an eyebrow. "Any particular category? Or a price range, perhaps?"

"I—"

"Tony…" Tia interrupted softly. "Look. I-is that…?"

Rumple drew closer to the shelf that had captured her attention. "What, that?" he remarked with some surprise. "It's hardly what I'd call a memento of your stay here. But if it's hardware that interests you, there's a shop devoted to it if you go down another two blocks and turn left."

"May I?" Tia asked, reaching for it.

And when Rumple shrugged and nodded, she lifted the object and turned it over, even as he added in an undertone, "Though one must wonder what it is that you see in an old bed knob."

"Tony!" Tia breathed.

Rumple looked at where she was pointing. "All right," he said firmly, his smile hardening a bit. "I think you'd best tell me what that piece means to you." The siblings looked at one another hesitantly. "Come now," Rumple said, a slight edge coming into his voice. "It's clear you recognize it, even though you've never been here before, and I've dusted the knickknacks on that shelf many times and never noticed anything of interest about that one. I'd say an explanation's in order."

Tony and Tia exchanged another look. Then, Tony ventured, "Would you mind if I took a picture?" He held up his phone for emphasis. "I… This is going to sound weird, but a colleague of mine might have the… the bed it came from. I'd like to email her the picture; I was going to get this for her anyway. If my hunch is right, then I promise you, I'll tell you the whole story. If it's not," he smiled easily, "I'll tell you part of it."

Rumple's eyebrow shot up again, but he decided not to press the matter. "By all means," he said expansively. But there was no way that he was about to part with the object now, not until he understood its exact significance. And the significance of the initials 'PW' that were etched roughly on the underside of the knob.


Lily couldn't stall any longer. The breakfast rush was over and the diner was nearly empty, apart from her mother. She still wanted to talk to Granny about getting paid, but the older woman was talking on the phone. It sounded business-related and Lily felt awkward standing there and trying not to act like she was impatient. The older woman wasn't going anywhere.

With a mental sigh, Lily went back to her mother's table. "Sorry for the wait," she murmured.

Maleficent looked up with a smile. "I didn't mind," she replied softly. "And… I'm sorry for yesterday. I wanted to get to know you and I think I might have rushed things. And then, I thought you were in trouble and I handled things," she lowered her eyes, "badly."

"How's Dopey?" Lily asked.

"He's concerned about you." Maleficent smiled sadly. "I've been making my share of deserved apologies lately." She looked searchingly at her daughter. "Are you all right?" she asked gently.

Lily hesitated. "I'm not sure just yet."

Maleficent took another breath. Then she placed something on the table before her. Lily stretched out a hand toward it slowly. It looked almost like it could be an earring design, if it were a bit smaller and lighter; a dragon claw gripping a purple marble. "I'd meant to give this to you earlier," Maleficent said softly. "This was supposed to be yours," she continued, "but I never got a chance to give it to you." Her face fell. "It's too late, isn't it? You're too grown up for everything. You don't need me." She lowered her eyes. "And I know I'm… not what you were hoping for."

Lily picked up the object, smiling a bit at the sound it made as she did. Was this a baby rattle? Because it was exquisite—practically a work of art. "I thought you'd be this scary dragon bitch and we'd go get our revenge," she admitted with a slight laugh. "You know, blasting all those who did us wrong. But you're just…" She groped for the right words for a moment. "You're just this real… person. And you're so fricking open, it kills me."

"Why does that kill you?" Maleficent asked, not defensively, but curiously. "I don't understand. Please. Tell me."

For the second time in as many days, Lily felt a wall inside her drop. And she heard her own voice replying honestly, "Because you want a relationship, a future. And anyone who's ever wanted that with me, it's just..." She shook her head. "It's never worked out. I've always let them down. I destroy everything that I touch. That darkness they put in me—Snow White and Prince…" she made a face, "…Charming?" She shook her head once more and continued, the wry smile falling away again, "It's serious business."

Maleficent regarded her solemnly for a moment. Then she gave an elaborate shrug. "I don't mind a little darkness," she said with a hopeful smile. Slowly, making her movements obvious, she reached across the table, took Lily's hand, and clasped it warmly. Lily's eyes widened, but she didn't pull away. "Look," Maleficent went on, "why don't you just… Stay for a week?" She gave a little laugh. "I can teach you about being a 'scary dragon bitch'."

Lily exhaled, but she was smiling a bit, too. "Okay," she breathed. "One week."

"Does this mean you won't need another night here?" a gruff voice asked from behind.

Lily turned her head to see that Granny had approached during their conversation. She looked back at her mother. "Do we… still have to go back to that cave?" she asked.

Maleficent shook her head. "I'm sure we could find someplace else to stay." She hadn't let go of her daughter's hand and Lily didn't feel like reminding her.

"I can upgrade you to a double room," Granny suggested. "I'll even give you a bit of a discount, for your help with breakfast."

Lily gauged her mother's reaction and nodded slowly. "That would be… good," she said, giving Maleficent's hand a squeeze.


Zelena pulled Regina's front door open just as Robin pressed the bell. "It's about time you got here!" she snapped. "Rest assured, you're staying here the full two hours; just because you're ten minutes late doesn't mean my time with her should be cut short."

Robin sighed. "I quite agree," he said mildly. "And I am sorry. There was an errand I needed to do that took a bit longer than I'd thought."

Zelena took the baby from him and stepped aside to let him enter, just as Regina emerged from the kitchen, a welcoming smile on her face. "What errand?" the witch demanded, her demeanor softening as she rocked her daughter in her arms.

For a moment, Robin didn't answer. Then he took a breath. "I was at the records office, registering her birth certificate. And her name."

Zelena looked up at that. "You named her. Without consulting me." She didn't know why that shocked her, but it did. When there was no answer forthcoming, she raised angry eyes to the man before her. "Well?" she demanded sharply. "Would you do me the courtesy of sharing with me whatever horrid name you've saddled her with? Probably something dreadful like Brittany or Nancy or... Oh, G-d, not Marian!"

Robin shook his head. "Lyncoln," he said firmly. "Her name is Lyncoln. Or Lynne, if you'd prefer."

"Lyncoln." Zelena turned it over thoughtfully. "It's… a shade of green, I believe."

"One first developed in a district of the same name on a different continent of this realm," Robin nodded.

"Lyncoln," Zelena repeated. Her face relaxed in a smile that, for once, was neither smug nor malicious. "I think it suits her." Her expression hardened. "But we will not be shortening it to Connie."

"Lynne," Robin said firmly. "If there's to be any diminutive, it will be Lynne."

"We agree on that much, at least," Zelena sniffed. She took another breath and let it out. "Thank you for this. I know you didn't have to consider my preferences," she said a trifle stiffly.

"No, but I didn't need to completely disregard them either." He sighed. "I stand by what I've said before: Whatever our feelings for each other, we owe it to our daughter to be… civil with one another. That extends to giving her a name that doesn't set out to antagonize one of us. Agreed?"

Zelena nodded. "Agreed." She was aware that her sister was now standing several steps closer and she lifted her eyes challengingly.

Regina looked at the baby with a tender expression. "It's nice to finally have a name to put to the face," she murmured. "Hello, Lyncoln."

Zelena hugged the baby closer. "Hello, Lyncoln."