A/N: One of the protesting peasants in S2E20—The Evil Queen was portrayed by Bri Neal. In the OUAT wiki, she's credited as "Peasant Girl". Since Red's gone back to the EF by this point in canon, and since we've seen that Granny has other servers in the diner, let's just say that there's a former peasant girl working there who currently goes by "Briana Nelson"

"Stories let us see and hear and feel what someone else does," she explained. "They build bridges to the other islands. That's why stories are so important. They create true empathy."
― Cynthia Hand, The Afterlife of Holly Chase

Stave Four: Other Islands

Rumple rubbed at his eyes, half-shielding them against the painful brightness. Perhaps, there was something to be said for those Miners' Day candles after all.

"Help yourself," Emma said, gesturing to the table. "We've got a bunch of places to visit and odds are, we're going to be looking at a lot of dinners we won't be able to eat. Better to get your fill now." She used tongs to lift a triangular object out of a chafing dish and set it on a plate. She held it out to him. "Grilled cheese? It's really good."

Rumple shook his head. "And you're going to tell me that you aren't Emma Swan, despite your surprisingly believable performance in that role." Then again, he didn't imagine that the true Emma Swan would ever even wear a bathrobe of green velvet, never mind the cowled, fur-trimmed getup that this spirit had donned.

"Hey, unlike the one you met earlier," Emma grinned, "when I was being trained for these missions, I was always present." She winced. "Sorry. Bad joke, couldn't resist. Um, there are meat pies, too. Actually, there's pretty much everything. Seriously."

"Just be yourself, dearie," Rumple said testily. "It's rather disconcerting having to remind myself that you're not truly whom you appear to be."

"Ever stop to think maybe that's the point?" Without waiting for an answer, she took a bite out of the grilled cheese sandwich he'd refused a moment earlier. "Umm…" she said blissfully, with her mouth full. "Gold, are you sure you don't want this?"

Was he quite certain that this wasn't Emma Swan? Perhaps, he would think more clearly if he ate something, at that. Pointedly ignoring both grilled cheese and meat pies, he grabbed a bowl and dumped a ladleful of something or other from one of the huge tureens into it. Taking up a spoon, he took an angry swallow, not really paying attention until the taste hit him. Then his eyes widened. It was a fish stew, but it tasted as though the raw materials had been swimming and… well… sprouting not fifteen minutes earlier. Seasoned to perfection, it was, quite simply, the best haddock civet he'd ever tasted in his life—and that included the times he'd conjured up the dish, or one similar. Seeing Emma's knowing smile, he shot her one annoyed look. Then he concentrated on trying to eat with some modicum of decorum and not wolf the entire thing down.

She waited until he'd had a second bowl, a wedge of cheese, and a millet pilaf with diced chicken before she cleared her throat. "We'd better get a move on," she said, shaking out a linen napkin and handing it to him. "Grab something for the road if you want; I'm going to need a couple more of these grilled cheese. Oh, and use a finger bowl before you take my hand, willya?" she added, dipping her own fingers into one of the fine glass bowls sitting beside the dessert trays.

He'd been so caught up in the feast proper that he hadn't even thought about the pastries, but he didn't argue. Instead, he hastily plunged his fingers into the bowl as he'd been told, and then wrapped a cruller and a dried-fruit turnover in the napkin.

"Ready?" Emma asked.

Rumple shrugged. "Well, if we must."

"Yep. Grab on."

He did so, and off they went.

In the town square, the Miners' Day celebration was getting just getting underway. Rumple turned to Emma with a puzzled frown. "Aren't they out a bit late for this?" he asked. "It must be past midni—" He glanced upward at the clock tower and blinked. "Only eight-fifteen?" he asked.

Emma sighed. "Okay, so 'Spirit of the Present' is kind of a simplification," she muttered. "You caught me. I've got about a twelve-hour travel window, give-or-take. Roughly from the point when it's time to light the candles until dawn the next day. It's barely stepping into the past, but yeah, this is from earlier tonight. You really want to stand here and split hairs?"

"No," Rumple said tartly. "What I want is for you to show me whatever it is you think I need to see, so let's just get on with that, shall we, dearie?"

Emma didn't answer. Instead, she was walking deliberately toward a small stand, her eyes nearly closed and a rapturous expression on her face. Rumple hurried to catch up to her. When he caught her sleeve, she turned to him, startled for a moment. Then she looked away a bit guiltily. "Sorry, that was dumb. This is about the only place to get hot cocoa that tastes every bit as good as the one that was part of that spread we left back at your place. Not like I can drink it, mind you."

"Then how do you know how it tastes?"

Emma tilted her head. "You seriously think you're the only person around here who's a seer?"

"Well, the person you resemble certainly isn't."

"Give her time," the spirit said. "She's only just starting to figure out all she can do."

"You mean—"

"I mean, she's got potential. But I don't see the future; that's for the one you'll be meeting after me. I'm just able to see the possibilities. And know that Granny's serves incredible cocoa," she added.

Rumple frowned. "Just where is Mrs. Lucas tonight, anyway?" he asked. "Normally, I'd expect her to be manning this booth instead of… Briana." That was the server's name, if he recalled correctly. Briana… Nelson.

He nearly jumped when Emma clasped his hand in hers. "Let's find out, shall we?" she asked, and the square dissolved before his eyes.

He was standing in a large bedroom decorated in soft pastels. Surrounded by stuffed animals, a young girl lay in a double bed, her hair unnaturally white and her face far too pale. It took Rumple a moment to recognize Grace Hatter in the wan figure shivering beneath the heavy quilts.

"It's good of you to come," Jefferson was telling Granny softly. "I know she loves your chicken soup."

Granny made a tutting sound. "If it warms her so…"

"Nothing much does for long these days," Jefferson said. "But even for a short while, I…" His voice broke and his shoulders slumped as Granny patted his back gently.

"Papa?" a thin voice called from the bed.

At once, Jefferson straightened and hurried toward his daughter. "Yes, my Grace?"

Rumple could hear the strain in the Hatter's voice as he forced down his anguish.

Grace smiled. "Could you carry me to the window, please? I'd like to see everyone in the square."

Jefferson nodded. "You should be out there with them," he said, stooping to lift her.

"After all the portal-hopping you did for the Dark One," Granny huffed, "you'd think he'd have repaid the favor."

"Actually," Jefferson sighed as he settled Grace in his arms, "he always paid me what we agreed on when I did those jobs. If I'd been a little more foresighted, maybe I could have suggested an agreement that he'd owe me something down the road, like the bargain he forged with Emma. Unfortunately," he shook his head, "I've never been the kind of person who anticipates needing that kind of leverage. And now, my Grace is paying for my lack of foresight."

Grace tilted her face upwards and smiled into his eyes. "I'll be strong enough to be in the square next year, I think," she said, and when Jefferson's face twisted, she added, "You know what Regina told us; it's just a question of making my heart stronger. And she's working so hard on that, I know she'll succeed. So, don't cry, Papa, please. She must be close to the answer by now. I know it!"

Rumple turned to Emma. "You called me a seer earlier. Truthfully, I've not been able to use that gift since my return from the afterlife. So tell me, spirit, how well-placed is the girl's optimism?"

Emma shook her head. "A year from now, I'm seeing an empty bed and a stuffed animal collection boxed up in the attic. It… really doesn't look good."

"But what ails her?" Rumple asked. Then he frowned. "Wait. Weeks ago, Jefferson came into the shop asking for my assistan— The Snow Queen's spell?" he asked. "But that should have died with her. Or, if it hadn't, then taking her over the town line should have—"

"The spell hits harder in children," Emma said sadly. "Taking her out of Storybrooke would have had a strong chance of stopping her heart entirely. And since Jefferson's head is only currently attached to his neck thanks to magic, Regina had let him know that if he risked crossing the town line with her, he might be making his daughter an orphan. Grace was in the room at the time and she begged him not to risk it." The spirit sighed. "I think he still might have sent her off alone if he could have been sure it would mean her survival, but since it was far from certain, he relented. Now, every day her odds grow bleaker.

"No," Rumple snapped. "No, I-I've heard of this before. There is a cure… somewhere. If I can just find the right scroll, I—" He shook his head. "If I hadn't been so caught up with the hat when he came into the shop…" He glowered at Emma. "Well, can't you heal her?"

"You're forgetting," the spirit said sadly, "I'm not the person in your life I most resemble. I think I've been given her shape because, out of all the people you know, I'm probably closest to her as far as personality and temperament go, but… I'm not the healer she is. And anyway, she tried weeks ago."

"So the girl is just going to die," Rumple rasped.

"Unfortunately," Emma said with cold dispassion, "that is a distinct possibility. Anyway, I only brought you here because you were wondering about Mrs. Lucas, but we've lingered long enough." She gripped his hand once more. "There are other places we need to go tonight. Come."

He tried to twist free of her grasp with an angry protest, but her hand was nearly vise-like in its strength and then the mist took them and the room vanished before his eyes.

The laughter reached his ears even before the scene took shape around him. They were standing in the middle of Regina's living room. The mayor was clearly doing some entertaining this evening; she and Henry were joined by Snow White, Prince David, the pirate and the real Emma Swan. Rumple noted that, unlike the spirit beside him, she was wearing a button-down shirt and denims. Definitely the real Emma.

"I'm under-dressed, aren't I?" this Emma was saying with consternation. "Sorry, I should have asked."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," Regina said, looking elegant in a tailored silk suit. "This is hardly a formal occasion." She sniffed. "And at least you didn't turn up in uniform."

"Yeah, well, the crowd in the square wasn't all that rowdy," Emma said. "I didn't think a police presence was warranted."

"Nor an electrical crew," Snow said. "Seeing as Leroy didn't take down the power lines this year; we've had enough outages already over the last few months."

"One outage," David protested.

"One too many," his wife rejoined. Her smile fell away. "Especially with Ursula and Cruella in town. We don't need more trouble."

"Hopefully, they really are just looking for a fresh start," David said, not sounding as though he believed it.

"Well," Hook said, trying to inject a bit of lightness into the conversation, "it could be worse. At least, we don't have to contend with the Dark One."

Henry looked up from his Gameboy with a frown. "He's still my grandfather, you know."

"Aye, and I'm not holding that against you, lad," Hook said. "But he's also the man who intended to rip out my heart and crush it, so you'll pardon me if I don't think too kindly of him."

Henry shook his head. "I know. But, well, it's not like you never did anything to him before."

Hook frowned. "Oh, come now lad, I'll admit I may have had to twist his arm a bit to get him to assist in locating the queen of Arendelle's missing sister, but that was for a good cause. And he was lying to his wife about the dagger."

Henry blinked. "Wait. I thought we were talking about when you almost killed him in New York." His eyebrows came together in a frown that quickly shifted from puzzled to angry. "Are you trying to tell me that after Zelena was controlling him for a year, you tried to force him to take orders from you?"

Killian's jaw dropped open for a moment as he realized that Henry wasn't the only person in the room now scowling at him. "Really, Henry, I think that's something of an exaggeration."

"I don't," Emma said, sliding a bit farther away from him on the sofa. "Seriously, Killian, that was low."

"And didn't you two have a truce going on?" Regina asked.

"Indeed we did," Rumple murmured, forgetting for a moment that the others couldn't see or hear him. "And it's gratifying that I'm not the only one who recalls it."

"I said I was over trying to kill him," Hook said. "And I was. Unfortunately, once that hat tumbled into his grasp, I discovered that the sentiment wasn't mutual."

"Did his plan to kill you come before or after you started blackmailing him?" Henry demanded.

"Hmmm," the spirit said in his ear. "Sounds like you've got one ally in the room, at least."

Rumple smiled faintly. "He always has been rather a remarkable young man."

"Here," David reached for the decanter. "I think we can raise a toast."

"Uh, could I have a Coke instead?" Henry asked.

"Sounds like a good idea, kid," Emma said. "I'll join you." Glancing at the mayor, she added, "No offense, Regina, but the last time I had some of your cider, I woke up in jail. Not a good look for the current sheriff."

Regina laughed at that, but she got up and headed for the kitchen, returning a moment later with two twelve-ounce bottles of Coca-Cola. "Okay," she said brightly, when the drinks were poured. "What are we toasting?"

"Happy endings!" Snow said. The others chimed their assent, repeating the words as they clinked their glasses together and each took a sip.

"How about new beginnings?" Emma suggested. That, too, was enthusiastically accepted and repeated.

"Grandpa," Henry said firmly. "Wherever he is, I hope he's doing okay."

The others looked somewhat nonplussed for a moment. Then David nodded. "Rumpelstiltskin," he agreed. The others repeated it, perhaps a bit less enthusiastically, perhaps a bit more softly, but they did repeat it. Even the pirate, though he was the last to do so and only after Emma shot him an expectant look.

"Rumpel… stiltskin," he muttered grudgingly, trying to smile back when Emma beamed.

And Rumple was smiling a bit himself, even as the spirit clasped her hand about his wrist to whisk him off to their next destination.

"I don't want to see this," Rumple protested, when he found himself standing outside the shop as he had the night before. "I already know she's better off without me without your rubbing my face in it."

Emma (no, not really Emma, but it was hard for him to keep remembering that), sighed. "Your seer powers just come back or are you guessing now?"

He could obliterate this creature with a wave of his hand, but his heart was already quite Dark enough and he didn't want to cause it any more damage with a display of magic. He was finding that difficult to remember as well at this moment. "Be careful, spirit," he said testily. "Lest I forget that you're here for my welfare. Or so I'm told."

Emma shrugged. "Hey, I'm curious to see what's going on, too," she said. "I mean, if you already know for sure, then fine, but I don't think this place would be on my list if there wasn't something you had to see here."

"Well then," he snipped back, "why did you bring us outside the shop instead of within as we've been on our other visits?"

The spirit raised an eyebrow. "You've got carnelian in there, right?"

"Along with a number of other semi-precious stones. Your poi—?" He stopped. "It wards off spirits," he said slowly. "You can't enter the shop."

"Not uninvited," Emma admitted. "I could have sent you on in; it's your shop after all, and you're not really a spirit. But I… well, I could if I worked at it, but we're on a schedule and there is something you need to see here, seriously. So, you can either face it alone or invite me along."

"And if I refuse those options?"

"You're not going back to reality until you see what you have to. You want to spend the rest of your existence in this… limbo talking to me, I guess that's your call."

Rumple sighed. "You really aren't quite interesting enough for that, Ms Sw—Spirit," he corrected himself. He took a step toward the door. "Shall we?"

A moment later, he and Emma were standing on the shop floor. Emma turned to him with a smile. "I guess that counted as an invite," she said. "Where are they?"

Before Rumple could answer, they both heard low voices coming from the back office. "Well," Rumple said nervously, "if we must…"

"Afraid so."

"Here," Will was saying, as he struck a match. "I'm not usually the romantic sort, am I, but I thought you might care for it."

Belle smiled gently, but then her smile seemed to freeze on her face, when she caught a whiff of the candle's fragrance.

"Somethin' wrong?" Will asked.

Belle shook her head. "Not really. It's just that… sandalwood brings back a few memories."

"Bad 'uns, I take it," Will remarked. "Sorry, love, I didn't know."

Belle smiled again, apologetically this time. "There's no reason you should have. I'd forgotten myself, until I smelled it. Rumple had a—" She caught herself. "I'm sorry."

Will sighed. "Nah, don't be. You still have feelings for him's all."

"I-I shouldn't," Belle said. "He's gone now. And with the curse on the town line, he can't come back. I-I have to accept that. I thought I had—"

"Wot, after barely six weeks?" Will demanded. "Cor, if you think you can get over a bloke in that short a time, there's some beachfront property in the nature preserve I'd like to sell you."

"B-but the nature preserve," Belle began automatically, "doesn't have any land for sale and especially not—" She flushed as the realization hit. "Oh."

Will shook his head. "I've… carried a torch of my own a few leagues," he said, his voice a bit hoarse.

"You were telling me," Belle nodded. "What happened?"

"Never you mind that," Will said, his easy smile returning. "That's all in me past innit? But not so long ago that I don't know you're still mourning him."

"I'm not—"

"Mourning what you thought you 'ad then."

Belle closed her eyes. "How did you… get past it?"

Will winced. "Ain't something I'd recommend."

"Tell me."

"I…" Will took another breath. "I asked some'un to rip out me 'eart, I did," he admitted, his accent growing more pronounced. "Felt the one what put me over for a crown had already done it figurative-like, so I didn't think I 'ad much to lose if I let it happen literal." He shook his head. "Mistake, that was."

"But you moved on."

Will gave her a pained look. "Not nearly as far as you think."

"What? B-but I thought…"

Will shook his head. "Belle, right now, well, we've both been pushed aside by someone who chose power over love. It's harsh, but it's true, love. And it still stings. Now, that experience gives us something in common and I'll not deny it's good to have someone in me life that understands what it's like. Reckon it's the same in your case. And that connection, well, that's a bond I think we both need. But it's not love. Deep down in your heart, if you're being honest with yourself, I think you know that."

Belle's shoulders slumped. "I-I was hoping it was just that I was afraid to love again," she whispered. "I mean, who could blame me if it was?"

"Not me, luv," Will replied, and Belle smiled sadly.

"But what am I supposed to do?" she asked. "He can't come back now." Her voice took on a hint of bitterness. "If he could, he wouldn't want me after what I did to him."

Rumple turned to Emma. "She's wrong," he said quickly. "Can't you let me tell her?"

"I don't make the rules," Emma said, not unkindly, just as Will spoke.

"And if he did, would you go back to 'im?" he asked. "Or would you think back on all the times he hurt you in the past and slam the door again?"

Belle winced. "I-I don't know. And you? If your love was standing before you now, asking for a second chance, would you give it to her?"

"Why d'you think I asked that sorceress to tear out me 'eart?" Will asked his voice soft and gentle.

Belle was silent for a long moment. Then, she said heavily, "Well, since he can't come back, I guess all I can do is hope he's happy in his new life wherever he is." She gazed sadly at the flickering candle flame. "A-at least one of us should be."

And then they were back in his bedroom. Rumple turned to the spirit. "All right," he said tiredly. "Let's review, shall we? From your… colleague, I've learned that my childhood and youth were nowhere near as relentlessly bleak as I recall. From you, I've discovered that I'm not quite as loathed as I believed, though I doubt I'd have been welcomed with open arms at any of our points of call. And yet, my heart is still nearly totally consumed by Darkness. I've still burned through every second chance I ever received, shunned every hand extended to me in friendship, and," he thought of Jefferson and Paige with a pang of remorse, "let my quest for power and control blind me to those I might have aided. All your flashbacks and voyeurism have accomplished has been to show me that I have even less excuse for my shortcomings than I thought. So, if you're trying to tell me I deserve everything headed toward me, mission accomplished. So are we done, or have you installed a pool of self-pity in my cellar for my… wallowing pleasure?"

He didn't expect an answer and storming out of his bedchamber struck him as puerile. Instead, he pointedly turned his back on his visitor. That was, he acknowledged, only marginally better than fleeing the room outright, but it was better. Still, when he thought he'd waited long enough for her to vanish and turned around once more, she was still there.

"You're wrong, you know," she said sadly. "And I'm sorry."

"You're sorry," he repeated. "For what, pray tell?"

Emma shook her head. "Whether you believe it or not, you really do have a chance. Like the spirit here before me pointed out, if you weren't worth helping, or if you were beyond help, we wouldn't be bothering."

"I suppose you think I ought to express my gratitude for your attention, then."

The spirit shrugged. "Guess we both know that's not happening. Just…" Her eyes widened and she held up her hand before her face for a moment. "Argh. My time's almost up; I'm going to fade away in another minute or two. Okay. Okay, final words of advice. If you could do me a favor?" She frowned. "Actually… no. No, on second thought, do yourself a favor. Don't start thinking it's over until it's over."

"I beg your pardon?"

A fine mist seemed to swirl about the spirit, and her hair and robe wavered slightly, as though caught in a breeze. "Look, behind all the cynicism and sarcasm, behind all the… walls, you've always had more hope than anyone else in this place—and no, I'm not forgetting the mother of the person whose appearance I've been borrowing tonight. If you didn't, this place wouldn't exist. Because if you didn't, then three hundred years ago, there would have been one more child soldier in a hopeless war. Or somewhere in the course of those three centuries, you would have thrown in the towel and realized that at a certain point, your son would almost certainly have died of natural causes. Most mortals aren't still walking around three hundred years later, not in a Land without Magic."

"I had a seer tell me—"

"And you believed her," she interrupted him quickly. "Or at least, you hoped she was telling you the truth." She smiled. "Keep that hope," she continued, her words tumbling out faster now, as her form became more ephemeral. "Don't give into despair, no matter how… logical it feels. Because—and I can't believe I get this line, when by rights it really should have been spoken by my predecessor."

"What?"

"The minute you give up the hope that things will get better…" She was almost completely insubstantial now; he could look through her to see the bedroom door beyond, but even as she vanished, her last words hung in the air. An echo as much of the past as it was the present.

"…Is the minute you know they won't!"