A/N: Hi all! I'm not gonna go thru the same spiel, you know I'm sorry for the delay. But here it is, finally. This chapter fought me tooth and nail and I'm not entirely happy with it. I have edited to death, so I apologize for any mistakes (verb tenses are my enemy and I deeply apologize for this) Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

Emma gripped the frame of the carriage, feeling nauseous with the erratic movement of their ride. Every bump or dip in the road rattled through her body, making her frayed nerves even more so. She understood why he refused to use magic to get them to the castle, but anything would have been preferable to this. The ride had been mostly silent except for Rumple's attempts at finding his voice, speaking random sentences with variations of tone, pitch and cadence.

The intensity on his face made her heart ache, but it also filled her up in a way she couldn't explain. He was doing this only for her; it made her fall even deeper in love with him. The carriage was just too small, otherwise she would have moved to sit beside him. They had very little time left together. She planned to be as close to him as possible in every moment they had left.

The carriage came to an abrupt stop and they shared a nervous but encouraging glance with each other. The door opened and Rumple exited first, then along with the driver, they offered her their hands and assisted her in climbing down. She would have insisted on doing it on her own, but the combination of a long skirt, high heels, and a thin step she could hardly see made the decision for her. Linking their arms at the elbow, they joined the line to enter.

Standing in front of the castle entrance made everything real. She was in a gown, they were about to be greeted by a king and eventually her father. They've both known all along this was a bad idea, but she kept convincing herself it was something that would be fun, that she wanted to experience. Now, all she can seem to focus on is all the ways this could go wrong.

The butterflies in her stomach took flight once more and as her grip tightened on his arm, so did his. To anyone else they seemed a couple in love, but in this moment, she was quite sure they were literally holding each other up. She took a steadying breath as they reached the doorman, and Rumple produced their invitation.

"Welcome, who may I announce has arrived?" King Midas greeted jovially. Rumple bowed and she curtsied, and if the King noticed her slight slip of balance, he kindly didn't remark.

"This is Princess Diana and I am Prince…" he stopped, looking stark and at a loss for words.

"Charles, his name is Prince Charles." She interjected for him.

"An honor to make your acquaintance..." The King smiled, "Announce Prince Charles and Princess Diana."

The ball was in full swing as they entered, the string quartet playing as they moved through throngs of people. Hardly a head turned at the announcement of their names, and Emma felt a little bit relieved, but only just. Her eyes scanned the room, instantly searching for her father. She found him standing beside Kathryn, or Abigail here, and she honestly couldn't tell which of them looked more miserable.

"Is there a refreshments table? I definitely need a drink…"

"Servants walk around with trays of drinks and light snacks…" he explained.

"Great…ah, there's one…" she said, spotting a servant and following the tray of what she hoped was heavily spiked punch. The man stopped when she got his attention, and she took two glasses, one for each of them. If she had more hands, she would have grabbed two more just for her. It wasn't as strong as she hoped, rather needed, but it took the edge off. A small smile appeared as she rejoined his side and held out the drink for him.

"Thank you," he accepted the cup and downed it in one shot, "Everyone is staring at me; they know who I am…" he said, leaning close to her ear. She looked around, and plenty of people were now staring, but they looked more curious than angry.

"They're probably just wondering who we are. I mean really, if people recognized you, do you think they would be looking so calm?" His gaze lifted, and he again looked out into the sea of faces, seeming to accept her assessment. He took the empty glass from her hand and set them both on a tray passing them by.

"Perhaps you are right, my dear." He said. She slid her hand down his arm, interlacing their fingers and taking in the sight of the couples on the dance floor. The fabric from the gowns created a breeze all their own as women twirled and danced about their partners. It was something straight out of a movie – albeit a movie Emma never had the desire to be in, until right now.

"Shall we, Princess?" he asked, extending his arm toward the dance floor. Everything he taught her earlier was suddenly gone from her mind, and she gripped his arm, pulling him back.

"I can't do these dances…" she whispered in reply. He looked at her than, a sudden determination overtaking his features.

"Yes, you can. We didn't go through all this trouble and come all this way for you to back out now." In one swift move he pulled her flush against him, "Remember to let me lead, and keep your chin up, Princess; eyes on me."

He smiled at her than, a real smile that nearly reached his eyes. It wasn't a smirk, it was a charming, boyish, almost innocent smile as he ducked his head toward her. It put her at ease in his arms and she easily moved with him as he began the dance. They danced their way onto the platform, blending in almost seamlessly with the others. It wasn't as hard as she feared, letting him guide and move her with his own confidence in the steps. She only stumbled a few times, but she didn't let her gaze slip from his. She didn't glance at her feet or second guess that she didn't belong here; he kept them both moving forward.

"Now, spin, my darling…" he whispered, pulling away from her and allowing her to turn back into his arms. It made her giggle, and he tightened his arms around her from behind as his lips found her temple. "You're a natural, love…"

"You're the natural, I'm just trying to keep up…" she said, kissing him gently on the lips. With a soft moan of contentment, his temple rested against hers for the briefest moment. The host of people melted away and all she could focus on was that she was in his arms. They were laughing, holding each other tighter with each passing moment, lost in their own little world. Until a hand clapped down on Rumple's shoulder, startling both of them.

"Pardon me, but may I have a dance with your Princess?" her father asked, but he wasn't her father. Here he was Prince James, engaged to Princess Abigail. She shared a look of concern with Rumple before he passed her hand to David's with a slight bow.

"Just one…" he said with that smirk.

Panic seized her heart at being left alone with her father. She could do the wrong thing, say the wrong thing – she could collapse all of time of space and erase her own existence. Closing her eyes for the length of a breath, she steadied her nerves. Bowing politely, she tried to breathe, masking her sheer terror with a slight smile as David took her in his arms.

She kept her eyes straight ahead, not exactly looking at him, but not looking at her feet. She cleared her mind, allowing him to simply lead the dance and trying to slow the racing of her heart. It was the first time she's ever danced with her father, something she never really cared about in all the years she imagined them meeting. She could almost enjoy it if she wasn't so preoccupied with not getting them all killed.

"I hope you won't think me too forward, but there is something familiar about your Prince." He said nonchalantly.

"In what way?" she managed to ask.

"I'm not sure. Has he been to our kingdom before?" she shook her head, too afraid to speak. He stared at her a moment longer before shaking his head and giving her a warm smile, "The two of you seem quite in love."

She blushed and lowered her eyes, "Is it that obvious?"

"It is. I must ask though, was the difference in your ages not a concern? I mean, I know powerful men wed younger women all the time, but I don't ever remember seeing a couple as happy you both."

"We got lucky. He and I…we share much in common."

"I daresay, Milady, that luck has very little to do with it."

"Yes, I believe you're right." She let her eyes slip to the ground for just a moment, and steadied her breathing, "And your Princess…Abigail is it?" He nodded, his eyes falling in despair.

"It's complicated."

"I'm sorry…" she was about to give him some encouragement, some thinly veiled piece of advice about true love and not giving up when you find it. But she bit her tongue, knowing that would likely set David searching for Mary even a moment too soon. It might not alter much, or it could alter everything.

"Thank you for the dance, Princess Diana. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance." David said with a polite nod of his head and a gentle kiss to the back of her hand.

"The honor was mine, your highness," she curtsied, squeezing his hand just a little tighter before letting go. The song came to an end, and Rumpelstiltskin rejoined her side.

"I hope we'll see you both again."

"Likewise," Rumpel replied, and she fell with a heavy sigh against his side. His arms came around her as she rested her head on his shoulder, turning to hide her face in the crook of his neck. She couldn't cry…she wouldn't.

"Was it that bad?" he asked, swaying them gently back and forth.

"I was just so terrified I'd slip."

"You think you almost slipped, I nearly called him dearie." She giggled as his eyes widened, at the small bit of Rumpelstiltskin that slipped through. His hands coaxed her back into their dance position and she shivered as his lips reached her ear, "You did well, Princess, you fit right in." She was about to kiss him when an ominous silence filled the dance hall.

"Announcing her Majesty, Queen Regina." They froze in place, and Emma immediately searched for the nearest exit.

"Easy…" he breathed against her ear, "She's not here for us." Emma could only nod her understanding, biting her tongue and hoping to remain unnoticed. Whether or not Regina was here for them, she couldn't wait to get away.

"Thank you for gracing us with your presence, your Majesty." King Midas bowed deeply, the fear evident in his voice.

"I appreciate the invitation. Young love is a wonderful thing…" she said, moving passed the king and entering the ballroom, "I hope you don't mind, but I brought some friends." Her friends were a small band of soldiers, and the party completely stopped as they entered the room and fanned out. Emma's fear was rampant as Regina looked through the crowd, seeming to single them out almost immediately. Regina studied her only a moment before setting her eyes on Rumple, "You, I know you…"

Rumple bowed his head and body, stammering his reply, "We have not had the pleasure of meeting, my Queen. I am Prince Charles and this–"

"I don't care who you are." She said harshly, seeing someone else she'd rather torment. Emma was relieved to see that Charming was nowhere in sight as Regina had set her sights on poor Abigail.

"I was hoping to meet your Prince, where is he?"

As Abigail stuttered a reply, Rumple squeezed her hand and led her slowly to a quiet corridor. He didn't even have to ask, she just hugged him and they vanished from the castle. When they appeared in his bedroom, she heaved a sigh of relief.

"I'll be right back," he said and was gone before she could reply.

It made her sad, she'd known the ball wouldn't last too long, but she had wanted to stay at least a little longer. It was exactly the kind of reminder she didn't want – their time together was coming to an end. They had been lucky to not have set time off its course.

The room was filled with quiet warmth, dim firelight casting shadows on the walls. She sat at his vanity, removing her earrings, and wiping off her make-up. Despite their earlier flirting, she had no expectations for tonight, beyond to give him whatever he needed. He'd opened himself raw and made himself completely vulnerable by showing his true face…and it was all for her.

When she felt his presence behind her, she smiled.

"Where'd you go?"

"Had to tell our chariot he had the rest of the night off…"

She stood to face him, completely surprised to see his human form before her, still dressed in those clothes that had looked so uncomfortable. The fabric of the dress shirt bunched up at his throat and the high collar of his coat that covered the back of his neck. She'd been certain that he would shed his human form and change into much more comfortable clothing the moment they got back.

Draping her arms around his neck, she pressed herself flush against him. "You can change back if you want. I don't mind."

His eyes narrowed in confusion, "But I thought this was who you wanted." Of course he would think that.

She shook her head, "I want all of you, even the parts you don't like. I guess I just…wanted to meet him." Without another word the scales took over once more, and his outfit retuned to his black leather pants and button down shirt. He visibly relaxed, going limp in her arms as though she'd pulled the weight of the world from his shoulders. "Thank you for trusting me like that." She held him tighter and he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her hard and keeping her close.

"Did you have a good time tonight?" he asked softly.

"I had a ball…" she laughed at her own awful pun, and he giggled along with her. "I wish we could have danced a little more, though. I wish we had more time…" He drew back just far enough to look down into her eyes.

"May I have the honor of a dance, Princess Emma?"

"It would be my pleasure, Rumpelstiltskin,"

They didn't assume any rigid dance pose, he didn't even move his arms from her waist. She just rested her head against his shoulder, and together they moved without music. The ball was a fun distraction, but she preferred the intimacy between them in this quiet moment. In all her life, she'd never known intimacy like this. Never knew it could even be like this. She lifted her head from his shoulder to find him already staring at her before she could speak. Not that she even had words to put to her feelings.

"I am lost, Princess," he murmured, "So lost…"

"Me too…" He leaned closer, his hand cradling the back of her head. But before he kissed her, he just looked – looked at her with that heartbreaking wonder and reverence that she thought would melt her heart and seep out through her skin.

There was no burning heat, no magic in this kiss, just warm, deep comfort. And he was taking his time, deepening the kiss like he'd never kissed her before and needed to find out how everything felt and tasted. But this wasn't their first kiss; she felt as though she had known him for all time, as if they had kissed for centuries. His taste she had always known. It was mapped in her blood, in the tracks of her veins.

"Rumple..." she whispered, pressing her forehead to his.

"Emma," his lips whispered her name like a prayer. Her hands went to the buttons of his shirt, undoing each one with slow deliberation. If this was going to be their last time together, she was going to take her time.

"It'll go faster if I do it." He breathed impatiently.

"I don't want to go faster. I want to savor this, Rumpel, please?" Something flashed in his eyes, but he didn't speak, just nodded and let her continue.

Emma tried to tell him every day how handsome she thought he was, but he always brushed her off. And he wasn't just handsome, he was complete precision: prominent cheekbones, a sleek jawline, and his nose to the perfect point. Even the chocolate brown of his natural eyes was still mesmerizing to her. The way his long, soft hair fell and framed his face, how it felt moving through her fingers. The way his muscles worked beneath his skin at his shoulder while he moved above her, the sharp definition of his clavicle, and the perfect hollow of his throat.

When she reached the last button, her fingertips slid along his abdomen and spread out to his sides. She drank in the sight of his chest, the way her pale skin contrasted the color and texture of his. How his breathing hitched and changed as her hands slid up his chest, and her gaze lifted with them to his eyes. All she could do was hope that he understood just how much she desired him.

Then his arms were around her, his fingers reaching the zipper of her gown. She released a sigh of relief to be free of the constraint and feel the cool air kiss her skin. He held the hem of her sleeves, and she pulled her arms free as the front of the gown fell from her chest. He slid it over her hips and pushed it down her legs until it pooled around her ankles.

Perhaps it was the fire, or their close proximity or her growing arousal, but she can't remember having ever felt so warm. It was probably all of that combined, and she could feel the warmth in her cheeks as his eyes drank her in, the same way she did him. It was something new, she'd never taken the time to just undress a man and marvel at him.

She should've known from that dark light in his eyes as he looked at her. Should've known he would push her back onto the duvet and the pile of pillows as he climbed over her. She should have expected the hot, open-palmed pressure of his hands on her wrists and the rough knee pushing her bare legs apart.

"Is this alright, love?" he breathed, lips brushing the edge of her ear, tickling, tingling down her neck with his words. She nearly laughed; what did he actually think she would say? She opened her eyes to find his gaze searching hers, he wasn't playing or teasing her for a response, he needed her to say it. After everything they experienced together, he still needed her permission, her approval…of him.

"Yes, it's more than ok."

He pushed her hands up over her head, his knees shifting and pushing her legs open, his hips seeking hers. He was being rough, but not overly so. He needed to be in control, needed to put as much distance between the spinner and himself. Her body yielded beneath him, more than happy to let him take exactly what he needed. His mouth moved to her neck, making her breath catch every time he opened his lips over her skin, pressing hard with the slick flat of his tongue.

Her head moved to the side to allow him more room to play, she just wanted to feel it one more time, that heart-stopping rush when the pressure and the surprise and the sheer wrongness of it burst through and plunged her into some swirling depth of abandon. Where they were finally connected in a place consumed by darkness. It was as if he sensed her unspoken request, his mouth stilled, knee still pressed up against her – hands spread in restraint over hers.

"Have you ever let anyone else mark you like this?" he asked, the heat of his breath against her ear making her shiver.

"No, never." She breathed.

"Will you ever allow another man to do such a thing?"

"No, only you." He groaned at her response, and all she could focus on was his lapping tongue, those soothing lips, the light kisses. The most incredible heat and rolling pleasure blooming up from low in her body up and through her limbs.

"You need not lie, dearie."

She opened her eyes, making sure he was looking at her, "It's not a lie. Everything was different with you. I was different with you."

His body melted into her, his shoulders dropping, his hands closing around hers, chest rising and falling in time with hers. He didn't bite her again, much to her disappointment. But it was ok, she would cherish and carry that memory to her grave no matter what happened after she left here.

"Gods, Emma…" he whispered against her cheek. Something hot and wet pooled at the outer corners of her eyes. They had to be tears of joy, of relief, combined with the bittersweet knowledge this was coming to end. For a moment he just held her there, pinned beneath him, as if he would never let her leave.

Her fingers tightened around his, rubbing with her thumbs, soothing. Then not soothing, stroking and pressing her fingertips deeper. He rocked forward with his hips, and she couldn't think about their hands anymore, even when he pressed them deeper into the mattress. There was just the pressure of his body. The cool touch of leather against the heated skin of her thighs.

With one last squeeze of her fingers, he lifted his weight from her body, sliding the open shirt down his arms. That heavy, intoxicated feeling was kicking in, watching as he tugged off those leather pants. The dwindling fire in the fireplace and the moonlight gleaming on his sweat-soaked shimmering skin – eyes like fire on his shadowed, menacing face – gave her all the visibility she needed. He crawled his way up her body, every inch of him slid across her skin; his kisses were perfection: barely touching, hovering, lingering.

To anyone else, he looked predatory and threatening, like a starving beast about to feast on his prey. Then his stern, handsome face was above her, lips dipping low and capturing hers, slow and thoughtful, and she spread her legs open, draping her thighs over his. Her hands cupped his face as he broke the kiss, fingertips sliding into his hair and tugging gently. The nudge of his hips and his hard cock brushing against her stomach made her arch in need of him.

The drug of it was filling her body, the heady, deep, and total surrender. He pressed her into the bed, her nipples brushing up against the smooth skin of his chest that had her shivering and arching for more. But still he held himself away from her, braced on his arms. Except for where their hips came together. There he was shifting himself down, pressing and rubbing his cock. Slow and steady like he had all the time in the world. Like he didn't have her whimpering and bucking underneath him. Unless he meant to drive her insane with lust, which in all honesty, he was.

"I need you inside me, please." She said in a desperate breath, "I can't wait anymore."

"Patience, Princess," he smirked at her, pleased in the way she begged him. One hand tangling in her hair, the other digging fingers into her hip. Maybe because she'd started to rock up against him without meaning to and he wanted to keep her still. Well two could play at that game…

Her hands rested on his back, her nails dragging down along his ribs. The barest touch with her fingertips and he was hissing in a breath and grabbing for her wrists. It was her turn to smirk, knowing he was as desperate with need as she was. He stared down at her, eyelids lowered; dark eyes of liquid gold captivated her, and not just the color, it's their incredible depth and intelligence that goes so deep it's like staring into the heart of a star. He knows her. He knows her with a certainty and intimacy that stuns her. Her wrists were released, but the look in his eyes pinned her in a way his hands and his legs and his body couldn't.

In her mind, she could feel how much he needed her. Looking in his eyes, she knew she was in his mind too – that he knows what she's feeling just as she knows what he's feeling, and it's like nothing she's ever experienced.

She could feel him quiver, as if the darkness inside him surrendered to some power she didn't even know she had. A moan rumbles against her mouth as he kissed her, his tongue slipping between her lips so that her mouth is filled with his strength. The hardness of his chest presses against her nipples, so close she felt the strong, racing beat of his heart.

She cries out as he thrusts in, finally, filling her completely. then thrusting again, convulsively as if stamping her with a seal, grinding his groin against her so she can feel the power in his thighs, blinding her with pleasure. He moved slow at first, tentative, pulling his cock out and then sliding it back in as if unsure of what he wanted to do. But he fits her perfectly, each thrust is just the way she wants it. He gets up on his knees and starts moving faster, rocking his hips and Emma closes her eyes in bliss, not even trying to hide the raw pleasure she feels.

His cock spears in her again with a savage, possessive thrust, and she cries out as her hips jerk up reflexively to meet it. She's panting for breath, but he keeps his cock there, smoothing back her hair and moving his fingers over her face, his lips following where his fingers have touched. The roughness of his thrusts and the gentleness of his caress was a beautiful contradiction. Her body relaxed, and her head fell back into the softness of the bed.

"Don't stop, Rumple." She pleaded, her eyes locked with his, "Please don't stop tonight…"

"Emma, love…" he couldn't seem to form words, and he entered her like a thunderbolt, thrusting deep, taking all of her at once. Emma groaned as he grabbed her hips and started to fuck her, making the bed rock and creak in his violence. Her hands fisted his hair, and she wrapped her legs around him, letting him take what he needed, anything he wanted. It's all she could do for him, a last way to let him feel her love for him.

It wasn't until she could start to feel his arms trembling that she knew he was just as near the edge as she was. Her control was slipping, clutching at his arms, digging her fingers into the already straining muscles. He just slid his hands further up under her, cradling her upper body on his arms, never stopping with the rub and slide against her that had her gasping and nearly weeping with pleasure.

He slowed his movements and dropped his mouth down near her ear. Warm breath bathed her skin. Lips just brushing her ear. Voice low and breathless, but intense, insistent.

"Are you mine, Emma?"

"I'm yours…" she repeated wholeheartedly.

"Say you'll stay..."

Stay? Stay where? In the past, here in the Enchanted Forest? Just stay one more night in his bed at his side? Did it matter? If it was with him...

"Yes…" It was a lie, they both knew, but he needed to hear her say it.

"I can't hear you," and he braced himself above her, staring down, storms raging in those amber eyes.

"Yes, I'll stay," she said, speaking each word in between little whimpered pants when he rubbed himself in just the right spot. She was so close to the edge, an orgasm just on the other side of the next thrust. But not yet. Please not yet. Not until he was buried deep inside and filling up every emptiness she'd ever felt.

"You'll stay with me..." He was gathering his knees under him now, his arms tightening around her ribcage.

Of course she would. Where else could she go? Where else would she want to be?

"Yes, Rumple, yes, always…"

The always seemed to wring a ragged groan from his lips, his head tipping back. Then his lips were finding hers, insistent tongue consuming her entirely with his mouth. His hands dragged out from under her, tugging her legs higher around his waist, settling the head of his cock right against her. Pressing in, pulling back and pressing again. Then sinking deep and deeper, getting at her with each sharp little thrust.

That's about the point where she started to go to pieces. Her orgasm just started there and built in waves as he angled his hips to hers, losing rhythm and moving faster, more frantic. Letting himself go.

Her hands gripped tight to his shoulders, and she felt the moment he dropped everything and just let the control roll away. The moment when he gave in to the free, flying soaring feeling he was already giving her.

He hovered above her, both panting in desperate need of air. He moved to pull out, but she clutched him. The tension in his arm relaxed, and he laid his body over her, covering every inch of her own.

"I have see some beautiful things in my time, Princess, but nothing will ever be as beautiful as seeing you beneath me, falling to pieces."

She smiled, "You've ruined the world of men for me. No one will ever – or could ever – make me feel this way again." He slipped slowly from her body, rolling onto his back and she followed with him, "Part of me wishes that you stayed in your true form. I think he might have needed this."

"He's in here, dearie. He felt it…" his fingertips moved lightly over arm and back, and their breathing began to steady and match each other. He smiled at her once more, before letting his eyes close. She remembered so well the darkness that lurked behind his eyes. A lost, desperate creature searching for love, a home – for shelter from the storm. They had that in common. Looking in his eyes now, though, he was home. She'd become his shelter in the storm, just as he had become hers. In her heart, the game was long over. She'd made love to him in body, mind, and spirit.

She sighed, closing her eyes and curling closer to his side. She wasn't tired, and she likely wouldn't sleep. Not tonight.

"I've thought of my price for helping you – the favor you'll owe me," he said, his voice thick and clouded.

"Anything," she replied without looking up,

"In your future, if Belle and I are together, do whatever you must to break us up. I don't love her, not truly, and whatever she feels for me is not based on reality."

"Wouldn't it be easier for you to never get involved with her in the first place?"

"I don't know what happens, Emma, after you leave. We've been careful not to disturb the past and alter the future. All we know is that Belle and I are together, and while I may care for her more than most people, as I said, it's not love. I want to be with you for as long as you want me, in any way you'll allow. Please, promise me that you will ensure we are together."

"I promise I'll try, but you can be stubborn." She teased, poking his side. He grinned, smoothing the hair from her temple to see her eyes.

"It's a deal, then?"

"Deal."

They sealed it with a kiss. She was dizzy with pleasure and lust and a deep sense of fulfillment truer and more profound than anything she's ever known. All she can do was lie there crookedly on the bed, half on her side, half sprawled across his legs and torso. Neither of them fell asleep, soaking up every last moment to be in each others arms.

Dawn was approaching. He lay on his side beside her, their bodies almost spooning but not quite as he gently touched her face. Slowly he moved his fingers over her soft, warm skin, just barely touching her with the lightest of caresses, nothing more. Then moving his hand back, his fingertip grazed over her ear, tucking a stray lock of curls behind it.

A soft moan escaped her and she rolled onto her other side to face him. Her face burrowed against his neck, her knees curled up, intertwining their legs and he cradled her. The endless whirlwind of his thoughts was silent; he just held her, keeping the sensation of it all so tight and letting it fill whatever remained of his heart and soul, pushing out anything else but the feel of her in his arms.

Her hands had come to rest on his chest just beneath his neck. As he twined his fingers with hers and rubbed his thumb against the delicate skin of her hand, one thought did come to him, clear and without doubt. He lay motionless; astounded by it as it echoed in his mind. He loved her. As truly and deeply as those saps in the stories; she was his as much as he was hers. Tonight, she'd left no room for doubt in his mind.

She stirred, nearly purring like a cat beneath his touch. He'd give anything, make any deal to be able to stay in this moment forever. It broke his heart to do it, but he gripped her hand tighter and shook her gently.

"Mmm, what time is it?" she asked, her eyes remaining closed.

"Almost dawn." She sighed, propping herself up on her elbow and smiling down at him. His fingers tangled in the length of her hair, pushing it back and committing every curl and wave to his memory. Like her, he wanted to savor this.

"Remember the first time I kissed you?" he nodded, "I wanted to go further, but I stopped because I knew that you were guarded and that you had similar walls to mine. I knew I wouldn't be staying forever and I didn't want to be just another woman who broke a promise. And now I just feel like I need to apologize because despite not wanting to hurt you, that's exactly what's happening."

"Please don't apologize for something I was about to thank you for." he replied.

"Thank me for what?"

"Emma, you made me feel whole tonight. For the first time in…" his eyes closed, shaking his head, "I spin that wheel, and I worked for decades to bury the man I was. It's exhausting to keep the father separate from the Dark One. You brought him out of me and I…that's never happened before. You've restored my hope, Princess."

"A girl does what she can…" Emma smiled, and he hoped that the tears brimming her eyes were of joy. His own smile began to fade. "What's wrong?"

"It's time for you to go, dearie."

She didn't say anything, just nodded despite the pain in her eyes. Moving mechanically, they both slipped from the warmth of the covers, dressing without words. She was back in the attire she'd worn on the day of her arrival. Something about seeing those clothes made it real, that she didn't belong here and couldn't stay. Taking her hand, he transported them to the vault and produced the magic wand.

"This has the power to recreate any magic, you alone can open the portal to your world." He explained, and she nodded, moving forward to take it. He stepped back, pulling his hand away, "But first…will you tell me everything? About my son?"

Her eyes widened in fear and alarm, "You said you can't know…"

"And I won't," he assured her, pulling the forgetting potion from his pocket, "Please…"

"You find him…" she replied, that same sad smile appearing on her lips as the first time she told him.

"And?" he prodded, his agitation growing at the reluctance in her eyes, "What aren't you telling me?"

"He dies." She shrinks back, and tears overwhelm her and her grip tightens on his hand, "He loves you, he forgives you and you die to save him – and all of us. But he tries to save you, too, and the same woman who cast this curse tricks him and he dies in exchange for your life. He died a hero, you can't take that away from him."

He shook his head in disbelief. He sacrificed himself for Bae? He actually did it?! And then his son turns around and gives his own life in exchange? It wasn't right; Baelfire wasn't one to make deals or use magic of any kind.

"I can change what happened…I can still save my boy."

"You think you can change the future, but you might make it worse. We were both there when he died, it was you who told me who the witch was. We stopped her, but somehow her curse was enacted anyway and sent me here. Now, you have to drink the potion, you have to forget everything I just told you." Her voice was hoarse and broken as she pleaded with him.

"She?" he seethed, "Tell me who she is…" He could see the reluctance in her eyes, the hesitation, "Tell me!"

"Zelena."

"Zelena…" he repeated, a truly acid edge to his voice as that name escaped his lips. He'd nearly forgotten her, once Regina became his pet. His hands started shaking as the darkness emerged from the deepest depths of his agony.

"You can't kill her," Emma squeezed his hand emphatically, and it was all he could do to hold on and not kill that witch this instant.

"I know," he tried to smile, pulling Emma gently closer. With a heavy sigh, he cleared his mind of all that and focused solely on the woman in his arms.

"I love you, Emma Swan."

"I love you, you know that, right?"

All he could do was nod. He didn't just know she loved him, he felt it.

She took the wand from his hand and aimed it. The wind whipped around the tiny room as it opened, all his fragile trinkets shaking on their shelves. As she turned away from him, he pulled her back one last time.

"Thirty years, yes?" he asked, needing to hear her say it again.

Clearing the hair from her face, she smiled, "Give or take, then we'll be together again."

"Until then, Princess," and one last time, he pressed his lips to hers.

Once she was gone and the portal closed, he made sure nothing had broken or escaped. Then he wandered the castle, the glass vial clutched in his hand. He could dump it out, never drink it and wait for that perfect moment to strike, to save his son. It was dark by the time he made his way to the tower, where he and Emma had spent so much time together. He missed her already, the sound of her voice and the way she would giggle and fill the silence of these halls. Thirty years he'd have to live without her smile, her touch, her company. A stronger man might be able to bear that. Not him.

Closing his eyes, he brought the vial to his lips.

Waking up with new memories was a strange thing to say the least. Unlike when his curse was broken, and all the memories of his former life flooded his mind so fast it was all he could do to keep his composure. Yesterday he didn't remember being in love with Emma Swan, and today he did. It was all right there in his conscious mind, no longer out of his reach. Their teasing and banter, or rather, her teasing and his aggravation at being constantly distracted. No wonder it took so long for them to find her a way home.

He loved every second of it. She terrified and mystified him, but he couldn't get enough of her curiosity and wild spirit. His desperation and need for her was not something he expected. Part of him believed that while she chased him, it was only out of her need and desire that made her pursue the only man in her sight. Just like Belle. And though that was partially true, he was just as hopeless when it came to her. They were sad, really, both of them. Pathetic.

He smiled. Emma made him feel things that he never thought possible. Her bravery and tenacity, trusting him with her vulnerabilities, the strength of her will and determination, the depths of her love for him that even now he still couldn't fathom. It didn't matter which realm he found himself in, 'why him' was apparently one question to which he would never have an answer. He's the luckiest man on earth, but accepting her love and believing it to be real was something he'll continue struggling with.

The suspicion he treated her with when he first met her as well as when she first come to his shop that night had never relented. Now he knows that all of what she had told him was true. She all too easily could have made things up or twisted facts to suit her own agenda. She didn't. Again, she had opened her heart to him, hiding nothing and he reacted with fear. Knowing just how honest and open Emma had been set his mind at ease, but also made him feel horribly guilty.

The shame he felt as he remembered the first time they had sex, how callous he was and how he tried to beat her at her own game…and how he only did it to prove to himself that he could still remain detached without developing feelings for someone. A whole lot of good that did. He couldn't call that first encounter making love, not when he compared it to the true intimacy of their final encounter.

Their time together was a roller coaster of ups and downs and twists he could never have predicted. It was all so inconvenient, and not because he was disappointed, but if he reconciled with her now they would actually need to deal with all this. He would have to face her parents, reconnect with Henry on a different level…he had no idea how they were supposed to move forward. And that reminded him, he needed to ask her how on earth she fell in love with him knowing he was Henry's grandfather.

Perhaps though, none of that truly mattered. As Emma seemed to have already discover. In truth, he could just pretend that he has no memory of their time together. He can let her go and be noble, encourage her to find someone new that she can grow old with. But alas, he wouldn't do that. It wasn't infatuation or a fling, he could see that now – he could feel that now.

They needed to have another conversation. One he's not entirely sure that he's ready for, but he'll do it for Emma. Before that, though, there's one person he needed to see more and with a snap of his fingers, he was there. Perhaps the fog and clouds darkening the sky were appropriate for a day like this.

"Hello, Bae," he said, his voice breaking on his son's name. "It should be me in this grave, and you coming to tell me of all that was happening in your life."

Kneeling at the grave for the first time since his death, he choked back his tears, remembering the last time he held Bae in his arms – feeling the life leave his body. Emma was right there, weeping over his son along with him. For all that Emma had fixed around here, this was still so wrong.

"Oh my son…I was ready, Bae, I knew what needed to be done. I wasn't happy about it, but it was the right thing to do and I was finally strong enough to do it." He closed his eyes, shaking the image of that demonic child Pan from his thoughts, "I know it wasn't your fault, but this was not how it was supposed to end. I've done so much that needed forgiveness, but yours was the only forgiveness I cared about. What the world thought of me mattered little; I only ever wanted to be redeemed in your eyes. I'm grateful for that at least…and now I need your forgiveness again."

He released a trembling sigh, pausing the length of a breath to gather his thoughts.

"I had a dream last night – more than a dream. I felt everything – remembered – everything. I could feel my heart pounding the moment I told her I loved her. The wisps of her against my skin; I hear her laugh and it resonates in my bones and Bae…I've never experienced that before – not even with your mother." He swallowed hard the lump in his throat, "But now, I don't know what to do. I feel it would be a betrayal to you if I were to pursue things with Emma. She says she loves me. I'd be lying to you if I said I didn't love her too. I've always known how special she was and even way back when she first arrived there was always something between us, but I just never knew."

With a huff and humorless laugh, he rose to his feet, "It may be too late anyway, I did what I'm best at – pushed her away in fear. She may forgive me, I think she wants to, and you know how nothing can stop her when she sets her mind and heart to something. But when her walls are put up, there is no breaking them back down. And that's not the only reason I need forgiveness…"

Looking down and reading the epitaph again only strengthened his resolve, "I'm going to do something I know I shouldn't. Beyond the lives at stake, the very fabric of space and time could be affected – actually, will be affected – and that's the point. I wish you were here to talk me out of it…maybe soon you will be."

The sound of leaves crunching him behind made his body tense, and he turned quickly to see who had been eavesdropping. Emma stopped short; her eyes wide as she looked around in confusion.

"Following me, Sheriff?" he asked, his voice almost teasing. Almost.

"Um, no? Your car isn't even here." She said, keeping her distance. Apparently there had been a bit more venom in his words than he intended.

He nodded, letting his body relax, "What are you doing here, Emma?"

"I just…came to talk to Neal."

"I see." There was an awkward moment of silence as they stared at each other. He should leave, let her have some privacy with his son. But his curiosity was rampant, given how easily she rejected him before his death.

"Emma, huh? Not Sheriff, or Miss Swan?"

A warm smile tugged at his lips, "I think we're acquainted intimately enough for me to use your given name,"

She nodded, "Is this the first time…?"

"Yes, I just thought I'd stop by for a visit," he explained quickly, hoping to swallow the emotions clogging his throat, "How have you been?"

She shrugged, forcing a tight smile, "Oh, you know…"

He did know. There was so much that went so wrong so fast it would give the strongest of people emotional whiplash. She looked weary; her skin pale and her eyes weighed down with heavy bags beneath them. She had done everything he asked of her, held up her end of the deal, and he broke her heart for it.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it's not your fault."

"Isn't it?"

"Not entirely. I did kill someone, ya know. That doesn't just go away."

Is it terrible of him of that he already forgot about that?

He nodded in understanding, but needed to admit his own mistake, "I broke your trust."

She scoffed, "Stop being so overdramatic. I knew what I was risking when I started all this, so, it's not on you."

"So you're not mad at me, then?" he asked incredulously.

"I wouldn't say that, I'm just giving you the space and time you asked for." She cleared her throat, crossing her arms over chest as she met his gaze once more, "I honestly didn't think I'd see you again."

And here it was, the moment he'd been dreading – and looking forward to. Every nerve ending in his body hummed as the next sentence out of his mouth would affect the rest of his life forever. His happiness. Tell her he remembered or let her go. She was looking at him, all her hope, vulnerability, and fear reflected so clearly in her eyes as she waited.

"I've remembered everything, Emma…" he said hoarsely, "I felt – I feel…I understand now why you couldn't just let me go and I'm grateful that you didn't…" the words tumbled out unceremonious and rushed, making them sound insincere when he meant every word with every fiber of his being.

"Do you mean that?" she breathed, risking a step closer.

"With all my heart…" they each took their own steps, closing the distance between them. His hand reached up, caressing the edge of her face and along her jaw, once again soaking in every perfect detail, "I have never trusted anyone with my true face, and that you brought him out of me, with all his insecurity, cowardice, and fear, you accepted him – loved him – me."

She smiled through her tears, "He's not that difficult to love…in any form…"

"I'm sorry, Emma, I'm sorry for how I've treated you. And I…I just need you to know – to hear me say how much I love you. I never imagined it was possible to feel this deeply, to love so intensely and to actually know how it feels in return. I'm sorry, Emma…"

Her hands gripped his suit jacket tighter, the fear returning to her eyes, "This is the second time you've told me everything I wanna hear, yet it still sounds like you're saying goodbye."

"Because I am."

Her eyes searched frantically as she whimpered, instinctively pulling him closer, "What? Why? Why won't you let us be together?"

"There is only one happy ending for me, Emma. I can't let go of it, no matter how wonderful it feels to be in love with you," Emma knew instantly what he was talking about, and he could see she understood his intention without him speaking a word. But before she could react, he pulled her into a kiss.

He held on as long as she could, and kissed her for all he was worth, knowing after this it would be over. She would never know the sheer force of will it took for him to let her go. The worst part was not knowing if this thread of light would ever pass between them again.

A/N: Before y'all come for me, nobody panic. I have the epilogue nearly done minus the editing. The next few weeks are gonna be rough for me, if I don't have it posted by next Sunday, I'm aiming for Mother's Day. I can't thank all of you enough for you support of this story, I appreciate your comments/follows/faves and most of all your patience more than I could ever tell you.