Chapter Summary: In which Jefferson snaps, Belle comes clean, and Emma refuses to believe the evidence of her own ears.
Kathryn hadn't seen Jefferson all day and after a quick search of the house, they were forced to concede that he must have left the premises.
It was a strange enough thing, considering he'd not set one foot out of his home in the past 28 years of the curse. But, things were changing in Storybrooke, and not always for the better.
Rumple bit out a curse as he walked down the steps of the mansion in the woods. He hadn't the slightest idea what Jefferson was up to, but it couldn't be good.
"It's a big house," Belle supplied, following him down the steps. "Perhaps he's in a wine cellar we don't know about or something. Does he have a bowling alley? A secret lair?"
"He's not here," Rumple growled out, spinning to face Belle. "But I may know where he's going."
Belle blinked.
"Where?"
Rumple sighed, settling his cane between his feet and bracing his hands on it.
There are only three things Jefferson could possibly be after: his daughter, the savior, or the queen. I don't think he'd approach Grace right now, he'd be too afraid of scaring her. I also don't think he'd do anything to hurt Emma. But Regina is currently a sitting duck in that little cell of hers. I doubt Jefferson can resist."
Belle snorted.
"And you're suddenly concerned for her wellbeing?"
"I care that if he kills her, the curse can never be broken. He's mad enough to want revenge with no thought for what he's risking."
Belle gave a nod. "Then let's go," she said, heading for the Cadillac parked a few steps away.
"No," Rumple stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "I don't want you anywhere near that woman. She's done enough to you over the years."
Belle rolled her eyes. "I'm a big girl, Rumple. I can take care of myself."
"I know you can," he said with a nod.
"So let me come with you," she insisted. "I want to help. Besides she's incarcerated with no magic. How could she possibly hurt me?"
"Underestimating Regina got you locked in a cell for years, Belle," he exclaimed. "It took our child! This is my fight, and I will not, and cannot, allow you to be caught up in it again."
"I can't just sit here and do nothing!" she yelled back. "We need this curse to break not just for you or Jefferson but for everyone trapped here."
Rumple shook his head. Belle was ever the hero, always thinking of others. It was why he loved her and yet endlessly frustrating at the same time. Why couldn't she ever think of her own safety first?
"I need you to stay here," he said as calmly as possible. "If Jefferson returns, I'll need to know. You can head him off before he does something stupid."
Belle still didn't look convinced.
"I just found you," he pleaded. "I can't lose you again."
Belle's lips parted, her hands coming to grip his where they rested on his cane.
"Oh, Rumple," she said with a shake of her head. "You're not going to lose me. I'll let you know if Jefferson turns up."
"Thank you," he said with a nod. He cupped the back of Belle's head with his hand, pulling her in for a quick kiss and then he limped off to his car, speeding back toward the center of town.
If Jefferson killed Regina, he would seal their fates and suddenly Rumplestiltskin wanted nothing so much as for the Queen to live a long, miserable life.
She'd been driving. That was the last clear thing Emma remembered. It was dusk, the roads slippery from the afternoon rain. There had been a man crossing the street.
Emma sat up, blinking heavily. Her head was fuzzy, her mouth dry and apparently gagged. What the hell had happened?
Her hands were restrained behind her back and Emma pulled at the bonds, testing them.
Shit.
Glancing around the room, her eyes focused on an upended teacup on the floor next to her. Suddenly the past came rushing back. The man on the street, Jefferson he'd said his name was. He'd been limping and she'd seen him home. He'd invited her in for tea.
She'd known better, she'd felt something was wrong, and yet she'd let herself go along with it for fear of being impolite. She could have kicked herself, if her feet weren't bound together with duct tape.
Emma scooted to the edge of the sofa she'd been laid out on, and used her head to knock a throw pillow on top of the teacup. If she could break it into pieces, she might be able to use a jagged edge to cut through her bonds.
She brought her bound feet down on top of the pillow as hard as she could, feeling the satisfying crunch of broken china. It was a matter of moments to get one of the shards in hand, cutting her hands free and then releasing the rest of her bonds.
She rushed quickly to the living room windows, but they were all locked. She wasn't certain where Jefferson was, or when he might return, but she had to get out of here and fast.
Creeping as quietly as possible, Emma made it to the doorway of the sitting room, glancing out into the dark and empty hallway. Night had fallen and the whole house was in gloom, she could barely see a thing.
She couldn't remember how she had come in, the tea making her head fuzzy and her memory shot, but the front door had to be around here somewhere. Down the hall and to the right, a sliver of light was seeping out into the hall from a cracked door. She crept toward it, glancing in only to see Jefferson with an almost comically large pair of scissors. He was sharpening them against a stone, the sound of metal against flint grating to Emma's ears. She couldn't imagine he had anything good planned for those scissors. As far as Emma was aware, Kathryn Nolan was the first murder case in Storybrooke in at least two decades, but maybe a serial killer had been operating just outside of town for years.
There was a sound of rustling cloth and floorboards creaking from somewhere off down the hall and Emma rushed to the flight of stairs leading to the upper floor. She darted up them, two at a time, before taking refuge in the first room she found, peeking out through the cracked door with bated breath for any sign of Jefferson or an accomplice. He'd said he lived in the big house alone, but he'd obviously been lying to her about several things.
"Sheriff Swan?" came a voice from behind her, and Emma spun to see a ghost, an actual fucking ghost.
Seated cross-legged in the middle of a large four-poster bed, bathed in soft lamplight from the side table next to her, was Kathryn Nolan.
"K-Kathryn?" Emma gasped out.
"Is it over?" she asked, pushing herself up off the bed. "Has Regina been arrested?"
"Uh, yeah," Emma said, shaking her head and wondering if she was still feeling the effects of her drugged tea. "For your murder. The…the heart…How are you alive?"
"Mr. Gold…" Kathryn began, and didn't everything always come back to that meddlesome bastard. "He…he said Regina wanted me dead. He hid me to protect me."
"He hid you here?" she asked skeptically. "With Jefferson?"
Kathryn nodded. "I know he's a little eccentric, but he's harmless."
Emma scoffed, her mouth falling open. "Your harmless friend kidnapped and drugged me," she said, rubbing at where her wrists had been bound. "We need to get out of here, but this place is like a labyrinth. Where's the front door?"
There was a gentle knock on the door and Emma spun back around, her hand automatically going to her hip where her gun was usually holstered. It was only then she realized she'd been disarmed while unconscious. She squared her shoulders, placing herself between the doorway and Kathryn.
The door pushed open a second later, a stunned looking Izzy Gold framed in the doorway holding a tea tray.
"Emma," she gasped, the tray going slack in her hands and falling to the ground with a crash.
"What the hell is going on?" Emma hissed out. "Izzy, you knew Kathryn has been alive this whole time? You let me arrest Mary Margaret knowing that no murder had been committed?"
Izzy had gone pale, her hands twisting together.
"You weren't supposed to find out like this," she said unhelpfully.
Emma shook her head.
"We can sort this out later," she said in a whisper. "Right now we need to get out of here before that madman with the scissors finds us."
"What madman with scissors?" Izzy asked.
"Emma says Jefferson kidnapped and drugged her," Kathryn supplied.
Izzy's hand flew to her mouth.
"Oh no," she breathed. "He's not after Regina after all."
"What?" Emma asked, increasingly confused. It felt as though an entire story was happening that she had no part in. She was increasingly likely to blame Gold. He'd offered to be Mary Margaret's attorney and the whole time he knew Kathryn was alive. He must have framed Regina who had framed Mary Margaret, another step in their crazy war for control of the town.
Izzy stepped over the mess of broken crockery and into the room, pulling a cellphone from her skirt pocket and punching in a number.
"Rumple," she hissed into the receiver. "Jefferson is back and he's after Emma. Come here now!" She slammed the phone shut and turned to look at Emma. "We need to get you out of here."
Emma just nodded, wondering who the hell Rumple was.
Creeping down the stairs was a harder task with two extra people in tow, but once they were in the main hallway it was only a few turns to find the front door. Izzy slowly turned the knob, getting the door open and ushering Kathryn out. Before Emma could follow, something grabbed her by the hair, wrenching her neck back painfully.
"Oh not so fast, Savior," Jefferson said, pulling Emma backwards into the foyer. Jefferson's left arm went around her and she felt the barrel of her own gun pressed against her side.
"Jefferson!" Izzy screeched. "What are you doing?"
Emma kept stock still, her heart hammering in her chest, as Jefferson bent down, placing his face next to hers on her shoulder.
"I'm going to make little Emma here believe," he said with a huff. "And barring that, I'm going to shoot her."
Izzy's eyes were wide, her face horror stricken. It was the last thing Emma saw before Jefferson kicked the door shut in Izzy's face, dragging her back up the stairs.
"Jefferson!" Belle shrieked, banging her fist on the front door. Kathryn yanked at the doorknob, but to no avail. The door had locked behind them.
"There has to be another way inside," Belle said, turning to face Kathryn, her breath condensing in the cold night air. Kathryn just shook her head.
"I wouldn't know," she said. "I've mostly kept to my room this whole time. Jefferson always gave me the creeps and now I know why."
Belle raked a hand through her hair, stepping back from the front porch to look for other points of entry. How had they missed Jefferson's arrival home? She'd spent the afternoon with Kathryn and had just stolen down to the kitchen for tea when she heard someone on the stairs. She'd thought it might be Jefferson only to find Emma in Kathryn's bedroom.
"What the hell is he thinking?" she muttered under her breath, walking the perimeter of the large house. There was a high stone fence encompassing the grounds, separating the yard from the expansive driveway. Perhaps if she could climb over it, she could find a back entrance.
"Kathryn," she called to the other woman. "Can you give me a leg up?"
Kathryn nodded, running over to help her. Together they were able to get Belle up on top of the fence, despite her inappropriate footwear. Belle appreciated Izzy's sense of style most days, but she could really use a pair of flats.
"Here," she said, tossing her phone down to Kathryn. "Call my husband and tell him what's happened. He should already be on his way, but tell him to hurry."
Kathryn nodded again as Belle pushed herself over the side of the fence, dropping several feet to land in the soft dirt, her heels sinking in to the ground. Giving them up as a lost cause, she shucked the shoes off, tossing them aside.
"Are you okay?" Kathryn called from the other side of the fence.
"Fine," Belle replied. "I'm gonna go around to the back and find a way in. You stay out front!"
Without waiting for a reply, she rushed through the side yard in her stockinged feet, looking for a way in. Finally, toward the back of the property she found a large covered porch overlooking the wooded hills beyond. Glass French doors led in to the house and Belle tried them to no avail.
"Locked," she sighed. Then she shrugged off her sweater, wrapping it around her fist before punching the glass as hard as she could. It cracked and she tried again, smashing her fist through the small pane until she could reach her hand in and open the door from the inside.
She found herself in a living room she hadn't seen before, probably intended as a family room if any family had lived there. All was quiet and Belle couldn't decide if that was good or bad. Jefferson's tenuous grip on reality had obviously shattered. He was desperate to break the curse.
"Jefferson," she called to the stillness. There was no answer and she made her way through the house, back to the main hall where she'd last seen Jefferson and Emma.
There was a thud from somewhere overhead followed by running footsteps and Belle dashed for the stairs, following the sounds until she nearly barreled directly in to Emma on the upstairs landing.
"What are you doing? We have to get out of here!"
Before Belle could answer Jefferson slammed in to Emma from behind sending them all sprawling to the floor and knocking the breath from Belle's chest. Emma's gun was knocked away down the hall and she crawled after it as Jefferson grabbed at her ankles. They scuffled until Jefferson recovered the gun, standing up and replacing his top hat on his head as he trained the gun on Emma.
"I wanted to do this the civilized way," he said. "But you just won't believe. I gave you a chance, Savior."
"Wait!" Belle exclaimed, throwing herself between Jefferson and Emma, her hands held up.
A flash of annoyance crossed Jefferson's face, but he didn't pull the trigger. Belle counted that as a win.
"Another oblivious unbeliever," he said with a sigh. "What are you even doing here?"
"Jefferson," she said, fixing him with her gaze. "It's me, it's Belle."
Jefferson blinked. "You're awake, little rabbit?"
Belle nodded her head, her hands still outstretched toward him, warding him off.
"I'm awake."
Jefferson's face split into a relieved grin. "Finally," he gasped. "How did Rumple do it?"
Belle's cheeks colored, her eyes dropping. In this land, she and Rumple were husband and wife, but in her own, what had occurred between them would have been cause for her reputation to be ruined. Not that she had much of one left after living a year with the Dark One.
Jefferson let out a hearty chuckle. "Oh, of course! You little minx."
Emma was looking back and forth between the two of them, her face a mask of panicked incredulity.
"What the hell is happening here?" she demanded. "Izzy, what is going on?"
"She's not Izzy," Jefferson barked. "Her name is Belle. Lady of the Marchlands and consort of Rumplestiltskin."
"Rumplestiltskin!" exclaimed Emma, throwing her hands up. "So we've got Snow White and the Evil Queen and the Mad Hatter and now a gnome that spins gold? You're all crazy!"
"I'm not crazy," Jefferson countered, his voice low and dangerous. "This is real."
"Look, you've bought into Henry's book," Emma said with a shake of her head. "But they're just stories."
"We're all just stories!" Jefferson yelled. "What is a person without their story? They're cursed! We're all cursed! Little Belle is awake but still trapped here."
"Jefferson," Belle said, shaking her head.
"If I kill the Savior, the curse is broken," he interrupted, his eyes never leaving Emma's face.
"Jefferson, please," Belle pleaded. "This isn't the way. Grace wouldn't want you to become a murderer. You can't kill an innocent woman just to get what you want."
Jefferson scoffed. "You have the person you love," he accused. "You're both awake. My daughter has no idea who she is!"
"But she will," Belle said. "She will. But you have to let the curse break on its own. You can't do it this way."
"I tried," Jefferson said. "I asked her to fix my hat, to use her magic, and she won't do it."
"I can't!" Emma exclaimed. "I don't have magic. There's no such thing!"
Jefferson was shaking, the gun unsteady in his hand. Belle's heart was racing. One flinch and he could seriously hurt Emma. Where the hell was Rumple?
"I told Rumple that if he didn't get the Savior to believe, then I would," Jefferson said. "He had his chance and he failed."
"You know Rumple always honors his agreements," she tried again. "And anyway, have a little bit of foresight. You think that if you kill Emma, Snow White and Prince Charming will ever let you see the outside of a jail cell again? You'll lose Grace, for good this time."
The gun went slack in Jefferson's hand, his arm dipping slightly as he looked at Belle. It was the only opportunity Emma needed as she rushed forward, grabbing the gun from Jefferson and shoving him hard.
He stumbled backward, hitting the bannister at the top of stairs. With his height he easily toppled over, a sickening thud echoing up from below.
"Are you okay?" Emma asked, turning to look at Belle.
Belle just nodded. "Jefferson…" she said, rushing to the bannister and looking down at the floor below. But shockingly there was no one there.
"Where'd he go?" Emma asked, rushing down the stairs, her gun still drawn.
The back door was ajar, the late evening wind whistling through the opening.
"He's gone," Belle said.
Emma gave a sigh, tucking her gun into her waistband.
"What were you thinking?" she asked, pointing up the stairs. "You could have been killed."
Belle shook her head. "Jefferson would never hurt me."
"Forgive me if I find that a little hard to believe," she said, setting off toward the front of the house. Belle hurried along in her wake. "Anyway, why was he calling you 'Belle' and saying you were from somewhere called the Marchlands?"
"Oh," Belle exclaimed as they found themselves in the foyer. She couldn't rightly tell Emma the truth, no matter how much she wanted to. She clearly wasn't ready to believe yet and Rumple had stressed she had to come to it on her own. If they pushed her, it would never work, she would just rebel even harder. "Jefferson is a little kooky. He thinks I'm a fairy tale character from Beauty and the Beast. I played along hoping it would calm him down."
Emma spun around, a spark of recognition in her eye. "Beauty and the Beast?"
"Yeah," Belle said with a shrug. "I suppose it's the name, Isobel. My husband calls me Belle as a nickname. And the books, of course."
Emma just shook her head. "But he said you were the consort of Rumplestiltskin. Every version I've ever seen of Beauty and the Beast, Belle's love was, well, a beast. Not a gnome with a spinning wheel."
"He's not a gnome!" Belle said with disgust, before masking her outburst with a smile. "Like I said, Jefferson has an active imagination. I probably shouldn't have indulged him. I thought I was doing the right thing."
Emma sighed again. "For what it's worth, you probably saved my life back there," she said, placing a hand on Izzy's shoulder. "So thank you."
"You're welcome."
Emma threw open the front door to a startled Kathryn who let out a squeak.
"Oh my God!" she exclaimed. "Are you guys okay?"
Emma and Belle both nodded as Emma headed down the front steps to where her yellow bug was parked.
"Here," Kathryn said, handing Belle her phone. "I didn't get a hold of Mr. Gold. No answer."
Belle grabbed the phone, looking down at the screen. No missed calls, no messages, no nothing.
"Where is he?" she exclaimed, a sick feeling churning in her gut. Rumple had told her to call him if Jefferson turned up. What if something had happened to him? He was merely mortal in this world without magic. What if he'd been injured or worse?
Over by the Volkswagen, Emma and Kathryn were talking quietly as Emma helped Kathryn into the back of the car.
"So you've known all along that Kathryn was alive?" Emma accused, spinning to face Belle as she joined them.
Belle bit her lip. She couldn't lie to Emma. She was fairly certain the sheriff would know if she tried.
"Yes," she admitted. "But I never would have let anything happen to Mary Margaret. Regina wanted Kathryn dead. I swear it on my life. I will testify to that fact in any court of law."
"And do you have first hand knowledge of that or are you going off the word of your husband?"
"There's a recording," Kathryn said from the car. "She admitted as much."
"Recordings can be tampered with," Emma said, shaking her head again. "At this point, no crime has been committed. Unless Mr. Gold wants to come forward and admit to criminal conspiracy, I've got to let Regina go."
"What about Henry?" Belle blurted out.
Emma's eyes narrowed.
"What about him?" she asked.
"You have temporary custody," Belle continued. "If Regina is released, he'll go back to her."
"I plan on getting full custody of Henry," Emma said. "But I'm going to do it legally. I can't falsely imprison a woman on mere hearsay."
"Then you're a better person than she is," Belle muttered, crossing her arms against her chest.
"The fact of the matter is that Regina obviously tried to frame Mary Margaret, but since there's no murder, the most I could get her for is breaking and entering."
"What about the heart?" Belle pressed on. "It's obviously not Kathryn's. Should we find out whose it is?"
Emma blinked as if she hadn't thought about that.
"Yeah," she agreed. "We really should. But right now I need you both to come to the station and give statements about what the hell happened here."
Emma motioned to the passenger's side with her head and Belle rounded the car, climbing in. She shot off a text to Rumple to let him know Emma was safe and Jefferson had made a run for it and then settled back into the seat for the long drive to town.
Rumple was the most resourceful person she knew. He was fine.
She just wished she knew what had kept him away all night.