Gold could see nothing but his dagger, and even that emitted only the faintest glow. He had no idea how long he'd been walking, or how far he'd come. He was completely disoriented in the nether plane; he lacked any spatial awareness of his surroundings. It was just darkness and confusion.
"Ruuuummmplessssssstiltssssskkkkkiiiiinnnnnnnnn." The voice came in a slithering whisper. Rumplestiltskin stopped, spinning around in search of the source.
"Ruuuummmplessssssstiltssssskkkkkiiiiinnnnnnnnn." It sounded close—so close it might have been inside his own head.
It came a third time. "Ruuuummmplessssssstiltssssskkkkkiiiiinnnnnnnnn." The voice echoed throughout the black expanse.
Gold called out into the darkness. "Yes!" he shouted. "I am Rumplestiltskin. I am the Dark One. And I have come to speak with you!"
Suddenly, the glow of the dagger went out, and all was dark. Gold was falling.
Emma was frustrated. Hungry and frustrated. She'd spent all morning looking for for the kid who had attempted to break in the previous night, but every path she took seemed to lead to a dead end. She'd paid a visit to Mother Superior, since the nuns had helped the Lost Boys to find homes in Storybrooke once the heroes had returned from Neverland. Blue didn't remember the boy's face, but she'd given Emma copies of all the paperwork, and Emma had visited 12 different families, only to be told by each set of adoptive parents that they didn't recognize the boy.
At the last home they'd visited, a teenager had answered the door. Emma did a double take; she'd barely recognized him with his hair cut and clean clothes on, but this was a lost boy. Not the one from the station, but one of the other boys who had come from Neverland on the Jolly Roger.
"Hi—hi!" Emma said, surprised at his transformation.
"Hi," he said. "Sherriff." He nodded to David as well.
"You're one of Pan's boys, right?" Emma asked.
The boy nodded. "Was. I'm—I'm here now. I'm Nibs."
Emma nodded. "Right, sorry, Nibs. Um, can you tell us who this is?" She held up a piece of paper—a screenshot from the surveillance footage.
The boy furrowed his brow and held the paper, looking closely at the grainy image. "Yeah," he said, "that's Slightly."
"Slightly," Emma repeated.
"Any idea where he is now?" David asked.
Nibs shook his head. "Haven't seen him."
"You haven't seen him since…" Emma prompted.
"Since we got off the boat," Nibs said.
Snow pushed the door open with one hand and juggled a brown paper bag of groceries with the other. Little Emma slid under her arm and held the door open for her, and they both walked into the loft.
"Okay," Snow said, hefting the bag of groceries onto the counter. "Run upstairs and change out of those clothes so that I can get to work on that shirt," she said, motioning to the blood on Emma's collar. "Then come down and we'll get some fresh ice for your nose. It looks a little swollen."
Before long, Emma was sitting at the kitchen table with her math book open in front of her, holding her pencil with one hand and an ice pack to her nose with the other. . Snow sat across from her, papers splayed out in front of her. Ostensibly, Emma was working on homework and Snow was grading papers; in reality, neither of them was getting any work done. Emma was frustrated with fractions and trying to hide how little of the assignment she understood. Snow was trying to hide how frequently she was glancing up from her work to see how Emma was doing, and mentally deliberating about whether and how to intervene.
When Emma rubbed yet another hole in the paper with her pencil eraser, Snow couldn't hold back any longer. "How's it going?" Snow ventured.
Emma sighed. "It's fine," she said. Her words were brief, but they betrayed her exhaustion.
Snow looked at Emma, willing her to look up and meet her gaze. "I know we're probably not working on the same exact things you were at your old school." She waited, but Emma continued to stare at the paper in front of her. Snow waited a beat before speaking again. "It must be hard to change schools."
Emma didn't look up, but Snow noticed her swallow hard, and tighten her grip on her pencil. "I guess," the girl muttered.
Snow put down her pen. "We could do it together," Snow suggested, her tone as casual as she could make it.
Emma kept looking at her paper. "I—" she began to say, but then stopped herself.
"Yes?" Snow pled with her eyes for the girl to continue.
Emma opened her mouth to speak again, but they both turned their heads when they heard the door open. Adult Emma walked into the apartment and began taking off her coat by the door.
"Emma! Hi!" Snow said brightly.
Adult Emma smiled and came to the table. "Hey! How was schoo—wait, what happened to your face?!"
Little Emma put the ice pack down on the table. Adult Emma could see the slight swelling in the girl's nose and some bruising that was beginning to appear on one side of her face. Little Emma looked up at adult Emma, whose eyes grew wide. "What did you do?"
Snow jumped in. "Emma just had a little...mishap...at recess," she said, keeping her tone light.
Adult Emma looked at little Emma again, arching an eyebrow.
"It wasn't my fault!" little Emma said defensively. "A boy hit me with a ball."
Adult Emma looked to Snow for confirmation. "It was an accident," Snow said quickly. "She'll be fine."
Adult Emma nodded slowly, then smiled and slid into the chair next to little Emma, putting an arm over her shoulder. "So, what are we working on?"
Little Emma rubbed her eye with the palm of her hand. "Ugh, fractions," she said.
Snow tried to hide a smirk. "Why don't you take a break from math, honey? You need to do 30 minutes of reading too."
Adult Emma's face lit up with an idea. "I need to go talk to Belle about something; why don't you come with me to the library? You can pick out a book to read."
The two Emmas walked side by side down the street, adult Emma in her red leather jacket and little Emma in her new red coat with her backpack on her back. Storybrooke was lit with the golden light of sunset and there was a slight breeze in the air.
"So how was the day?" adult Emma asked.
Little Emma shrugged. "Fine."
"Fine," adult Emma mimicked, smiling and bumping the girl's shoulder with her elbow. "Did you like your new teacher?" she teased.
Little Emma smirked. "Yeah, she's nice."
Adult Emma laughed out loud. They'd reached the library, and adult Emma opened the door for little Emma, following her inside the building. She was still chuckling when she heard a voice that made her stop in her tracks: "Hi, Emma!"
She'd know that voice anywhere. She spun around, panicked. Henry was standing near the circulation desk, holding two books and his backpack.
"Hi Henry," little Emma said. Adult Emma's eyes grew wide and she looked back and forth between the two kids. Little Emma looked up at her. "This is Henry," she said. "The boy who…" she trailed off, gesturing to her nose.
"Ohh," Emma said, nodding.
"Hi, Sheriff Swan," Henry said politely.
"Hi...Henry…" Emma said, still a little discombobulated. "We're, uh, here to find Emma a book to read."
Henry's eyes lit up. "Do you want me to show you the children's section?"
"Sure," little Emma said. She moved to follow Henry, but threw a glance back at her adult self, who was still standing somewhat dumbfounded.
"Um, yeah. Okay," adult Emma said. "I'll talk to Belle and meet you back here."
Before long, they were on their way back home. Emma hadn't wanted to risk leaving little Emma and Henry alone for long, and besides, they needed to meet Regina at the Charmings' loft for another memory modification session after dinner. The walk home was darker and colder than the walk to the library had been, but little Emma seemed to be in good spirits.
"Did you find a book?" adult Emma asked.
Little Emma nodded. "Not from the library, though. Henry let me borrow one of his."
"Oh?" Emma didn't need to ask which of Henry's books it was.