A/N: Episode reference: S1E19, The Return. Some dialogue has been tweaked to accommodate the new timeline.

Chapter 36

Zoso hadn't explained it properly. Or Rumple had been too nervous, or he'd missed a step, or… or… he didn't even know. He just knew that there shouldn't be this much blood. Or any blood. The heart should have just slid cleanly out in his grasp. Technically, it had. But there shouldn't have been blood or gore or Talorc collapsing at his feet, deadly pale, without even enough time for a choked-off cry before death claimed him. There shouldn't be a growing, darkening red stain on Talorc's shirt, not when Rumple's action hadn't broken bones or skin, or—

Rumple looked at the heart in his hands. His bloody hands. There was a bucket of water in the corner and he plunged his hands into it. The water turned red, but his hands were clean, well not really clean, but the blood was off, only it wasn't really off, was it. Talorc was dead and there was blood on his hands, even if he'd washed it off. And he was still holding onto the heart. Unthinking, he loosed his grip and the organ fell into the bucket. He wasn't certain whether he ought to retrieve it or leave it there. He wasn't certain of anything, besides the demise of the village pie seller.

When word got out about this, the maid and her family would never return, he realized sickly. She'd be out in the world telling—or rather signing what she knew. With his luck, she could read and write! And he'd never find her in time to stifle her now! Angrily, he kicked the corpse. He kicked it a second time and then a third. And then he stopped counting and just kept kicking. Until his boots were bloodied and the corpse was barely recognizable as human, much less as Talorc's. He was still trembling with rage and revulsion. He shouldn't have let himself get this carried away. At least, not this often.

He needed to leave before Bae came looking for him. Bae shouldn't see this, shouldn't see him like this, shouldn't…

He took several deep breaths and fought to compose himself. Only when he was certain that he was in control did he make his way out of the house and back to where he'd left his son. He was still thinking about the blood on his hands. So much so, that he paid no attention to the blood on his boots.

At first, Bae gloried in his freedom, but his joy faded considerably, when he realized that his friends fled at his approach. Bae wished he didn't understand it, but that skinned knee he'd gotten from the peddler's cart had been an accident. That hadn't stopped Papa from turning the man into a snail and stepping on him.

Like most of the village boys, Bae enjoyed sparring with wooden swords and rough quarter staves, not to mention a good game of tag or blind man's bluff. But with that kind of horseplay, bumps and bruises were common, almost inevitable. And none of his friends wanted to risk Papa's wrath should Bae be on the receiving end of one of those minor injuries.

When he found a way to rid Papa of his Darkness, though, things would be different—at least, he hoped they would be. As long as he found it soon! He sat down on a log to think.

Through the trees, the elder Rumple watched sadly. Why hadn't he realized at the time that in taking the power he'd never had, he'd turned his son into an outcast? It wasn't fair; it wasn't right. And he still hoped things might be different. With the maid gone, perhaps Bae wouldn't be so quick to seek out the blue gnat. And perhaps, Rumple reflected, he'd be able to talk some sense into his younger self so Bae would never seek her out at all.

He hadn't spoken to his son in weeks, not since his younger self had sent him away after that debacle with the lone soldier. He was about to approach now, when he realized that Bae wasn't alone. Morraine was making her way through the trees and, as Rumple watched, she sat down beside Bae. He couldn't hear their conversation, but he saw his boy's expression brighten. Good, Rumple thought. At least his younger self hadn't chased away all of Bae's friends.

A cloud crossed the girl's face and she got up quickly. Rumple could see his younger self coming down the path from Honora's house, looking… Rumple frowned. His younger self appeared a bit shaken, but nowhere near as angry as he should be to have found Honora missing. Perhaps, his younger self was merely hiding his frustration. The man he was now certainly could have managed that feat. But it wasn't something his younger self had yet shown any capacity for and—

The elder Rumple swallowed. The forest floor wasn't at all muddy. So then why were the boot prints left by his younger self so… dark? And… He squinted, through the trees, trying to get a better view of those boots. But while he couldn't see them clearly at this distance, there was no mistaking Bae's "Gods, no!". The boy's anguish rang out as clearly now as it had the first time Rumple had heard it.

But he'd sent Honora away! She was safe! He'd done that much right, hadn't he?

Heart pounding, he teleported himself into the farmhouse he'd visited not twelve hours earlier. His breath hitched, the room spun, and before he knew it, he was kneeling beside the body of the man he'd never quite dared to call friend, even if that was what he'd become to him.

"Talorc," he whispered sadly. "Oh, no."

The younger Rumple was still reeling a bit as he made his way back to his son. Bae wasn't alone, he noticed, happy to see him talking with Morraine, though he wondered where the other children had gone. As he drew nearer, the girl got up hurriedly and was gone by the time he reached his boy. He winced inwardly. He'd really thought better of her than that. "Your friend didn't want to say hello?"

Bae sighed. "You frighten them."

True, but Morraine had known him all her life. And she hadn't been afraid to come by the house the other day. He wondered now whether she'd witnessed how he'd dealt with the soldier who'd tried to abduct Bae. Well, what if she had? She should know she had nothing to fear from him; he reserved his wrath for those who'd hurt Bae! "What is there to be frightened of, Bae?" he asked. "They'll get over that in time."

Bae looked down. "You have stains on your boots."

Rumple winced again. Talorc hadn't hurt Bae. "Oh, yes, that. Uh…" He didn't want to try explaining this one. And it wouldn't matter what he said anyway; word traveled fast in a place like this. Bae would know the truth before long. And he doubted he'd ever see Honora again now. Still feeling somewhar flustered, the only thing he could think to say was, "We need a new maid."

Bae's eyes went round and he cried out, "Gods, no!"

Rumple realized what Bae was thinking and he was about to tell him what had really happened, but it hit him that the truth wasn't going to paint him any better and might paint him worse. And he had gone to the house with that purpose in mind. "She heard us talking about the knife," he said. "I had to—"

"She was mute," Bae protested. "She couldn't tell anyone."

"Even mutes can draw a picture," he retorted. "I have to protect what's mine." He held out his arm to show the way back to the hut. "Come."

White-faced and tight-lipped, Bae obeyed. Rumple smiled encouragingly at him, but his own heart was troubled. If he kept up these excesses, he really was going to lose his boy. He was going to have to try a bit harder. And give the lad a bit more freedom. And just as soon as he knew it was safe to do so, that was precisely what he was going to do.

The elder Rumple sadly healed the gaping wound in the pie vendor's chest. With a wave of his hand, the bloody evidence of his younger self's actions vanished. Rumple started toward the corpse, meaning to arrange it so it looked as though Talorc was lying peacefully, but then he realized it would prove to the next person who happened along that someone had been there to tamper with the body.

He thought for a moment. And then, thinking a silent apology to the dead man, teleported himself and the corpse to the middle of the path between house and barn.

The neighbors were coming to milk the cows; Solara had seen to that. Customers might stop by as well. To them, it would appear as though Talorc had suffered a heart attack and expired naturally. Well, that was half true.

He shook his head sadly and looked down at the body one last time. "Rest well," he whispered gently. "And I am truly sorry." Yesterday, he'd saved Honora's life. But now, he wondered if he would have, had he known the price.

The elder Rumple knew it wouldn't be long now. It might be tonight; it might be tomorrow, but soon, very soon, Bae would slip off in the night, looking for the little bug.

He wondered that his younger self hadn't put some protection spell about the house. Then he shook his head at his folly. Protection spells weren't difficult to learn, but they weren't especially dramatic either. At this point in time, he'd been all about punishing anyone who dared break into his house in ways that were both painful and memorable. He hadn't yet learned how to keep anyone from breaking out. At least, Rumple didn't think he had.

Worry seized him. What if that encounter with—Pan following on the heels of Bae's being seized by that soldier—had accelerated that learning schedule? Suppose Bae hadn't tried to leave the house because he couldn't? And why did that thought fill him with such dismay?

He pushed out with his magic, probing carefully. There was no protection spell on the house, and as he watched the door open and Bae emerge and head for the sheep pen, he understood why. The newly-erected fence and gate were another matter.

But then, Rumple saw Bae dart back into the house, pause on the threshold for a moment, and carefully shut the door behind him. Without wasting a moment, Bae clambered up the old rickety trellis that hadn't seen a bean plant in at least five years. From the top of the trellis, Bae raised himself to the recently-shingled roof. Rumple wasn't certain whether to applaud or curse the boy's recklessness, as he walked the narrow central beam until he could reach up to grasp the overhanging branches of the oak tree at the edge of the land allotment. In a trice, he was up in the tree, and in a twinkling, he was shinnying down its trunk—outside the protection spell.

In the darkness, Rumple smiled, half in relief and half in admiration. Bae had done it! He waited a moment or two before stealing off down the road after his son.

He wasn't certain what he'd imagined the conversation between Bae and the self-righteous flea to have been; he'd known only that it had taken place. Interesting that for her her priggish insistence about being on the 'right' side, she had been honest with Bae about what she could and could not do. Of course, as a champion of Light magic, she'd want the Dark One gone, but even at the outset, she hadn't tried to persuade Bae to abandon him. He really thought his heart might have broken had he heard her gently speak the same words to Bae that the spinners who'd raised him had told him about his own father. He'd grown up fatherless. Bae shouldn't. He wouldn't.

A merry giggle rang out in his mind. And a sing-song voice lisped mockingly, "More plans? More schemes? Still think it will 'all come out right in the end'? Really, dearie, for all your efforts, everything still seems to be running smoothly along the same track it has all along. Your boy has a date with destiny and there'll be no room for a third wheel on that chariot. But if you'd like to try yet again to change the winds of time, hee-hee, be my guest!

He didn't want to believe that voice, but it rang far truer than he wanted it to. For all his lofty intentions, for all his yearning to set right what he'd made wrong, it was all happening again and nothing he tried seemed to make any appreciable difference! There had to be some way for him to bring about a happy ending. If not for him, then at least, for Bae!

He was so lost in his thoughts that it took him a moment to realize that Bae was already on his way home with the bean and the gnat…

The gnat was looking directly at him. And as he felt the usual maelstrom of hatred churning with in him, a wild, nearly mad thought seemed to whisper to him from the storm. He tried to tamp it out but it persisted.

Just how far was he willing to go to get his heart's desire? His answer was a furious snarl: As far as he HAD to! But still, he second-guessed himself. Was he? Did he truly mean it? Because if he did…

"So," the fairy said in a voice that was at once cold and sorrowing, "I can see my effort was for naught."

If he meant it, then much as he didn't want to admit it, he knew where his best chance lay. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, there was a smile on his face, though it strained him to keep it there. "Oh, I wouldn't say that," he said, coaxing a bit of joviality into his tone. "True, I didn't go with him, but I spent the next two centuries and then some trying to rectify that wrong. Two centuries and then some where I mostly kept to myself, or at least, out of the kind of mischief that would make you feel the need to step in. So, I suppose you get what you want after all."

The Blue Fairy sniffed. "I wanted the boy happy. And I wanted you gone."

She was beginning to annoy him as usual. "Well, then, I'm afraid I must inform you that tomorrow night, neither of your wishes will be fulfilled. Or," he smiled, "my way, you might find yourself oh, three-quarters of the way ahead."

"If you're asking me to join forces with you—"

"Join?" Rumple chuckled, but beneath his mirthful mien, his voice was deadly serious. "Let's just say that right now, our desires may just be the closest aligned they ever will be. You see," he took a step forward, "right now, there's two of me, one of Bae, and thankfully, but one of you. And strangely enough, all four of us are invested in Bae's happiness. We merely disagree on how he can best achieve it."

The fairy tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. "Go on."

Rumple bowed with mock ceremony. "As you've surmised, tomorrow night, Bae will use the gift you oh-so-generously bestowed upon him to whisk my younger self away to a land where no magic exists. Well, not very much of it, anyway. Unfortunately," he dropped his sing-song cadences and his face turned serious, "as I said, my younger self will balk. And as a result, as the seer on the battlefield told me long ago, Bae will grow up fatherless. Unless," he continued, "I go with him."

"What's preventing you?" the fairy asked coldly.

"Come now," Rumple retorted. "Didn't I hear you just tell my boy that there was… Oh, how did you put it? 'Something Dark in his life?" He hesitated for only the barest instant. Then he took another breath and forced his next words out past everything inside screaming at him to keep his mouth shut. "It seems I've much the same affliction."

The Blue Fairy frowned. "And getting clear of it is something you want?" she asked in some confusion.

"Let's just say I don't enjoy being controlled. Not by my dagger and not by my Darkness. In the place where Bae's bound, I'll have a fighting chance against at least one of those. And perhaps I'm old enough and wise enough now to accept the price of such freedom."

"And yet you ask my help."

Rumple nodded. "When Bae uses the bean," he said, "I'll be there. I'll see my younger self's doubt change to disbelief and then terror and refusal. I'll watch him dig his blade into the earth and hold fast to keep from being drawn into the portal." His expression turned bleak. "And I'll watch him let my boy go. I don't believe it will take more than a minute between the time Bae uses the bean and the time the portal closes. Less than a minute," he continued, "for me to take that escape and join him. But in that minute…" He couldn't believe he was doing this, couldn't believe he was turning to her of all creatures, but he'd tried to do so much on his own and it had all blown up in his face. "I fear that something might try to prevent me," he finished.

The Blue Fairy regarded him for a moment. "Darkness, of course," she said finally, "can be both external and internal. If you are intent on this course of action, I do believe I can slow the external Darkness enough that you might accomplish what you seek. But for the internal?" Rumple blinked to hear the kindness in her voice when she smiled gently. "I'm afraid that fight must be yours and yours alone."

He must have been holding his breath, for at her words, it seemed to whoosh out of him in relief. This time, he merely ducked his head, but there was more respect in that gesture than in the elaborate bow he'd shown her moments ago. "Well," he managed, "if I don't see you again in this land, rest assured that he will."

It was a warning and they both knew it. It was also as close as he could come, given the history he knew would yet unfold between them, to an expression of gratitude. But as he hurried away into the night, hoping to catch up with Bae, he was nearly certain he heard a tinkling voice whisper, "Good luck, Rumpelstiltskin."

"Uh, Grandpa?" Henry asked uncertainly, "are you sure that's the move you want to make? I mean…"

Rumple blinked. What his grandson meant, was that the word he'd just made had opened another clear path to another triple word score. He looked again at the word he'd just set down: Chance. He gave Henry a rueful smile. "I suppose my mind has been wandering."

Henry grinned back. "I was afraid maybe you were just… letting me win. Like Grandma does. Mom, too, but not as often."

Rumple shook his head. "Believe me, dearie," he chuckled, "letting people get the better of me isn't what I do." Although he wasn't opposed to letting them think such was the case, if it got him further ahead. "Should you ever defeat me, rest assured it will be solely through your own efforts."

"I'm sorry to interrupt," a new voice broke in and the two turned to see the Blue Fairy in the doorway. She nodded coolly to Rumple. "Dr. Whale will be by to see you in ten minutes. I'm to take you back to your room now."

"Personally escorted by the Mother Superior?" Rumple asked scathingly. "Should I be flattered?"

"I don't think you're likely to care one way or the other as to what I think you should be," Blue replied with polite calm. "If you're quite ready?"

Rumple sighed. "I suppose we'll start a new game next time," he murmured, not as sorry as he was feigning. The boy had a ninety-two point lead on him and it likely would have been higher had Henry not suggested Rumple rethink his last move.

"Sure," Henry said, folding the board to slide the letter tiles to the center and then tipping them back into the bag.

"Henry," Rumple tried to keep his voice casual, "I don't suppose you still have that book of yours about, do you?"

"The storybook?" Henry asked, surprised. "It's back at Grandma's loft. Why?"

Rumple shrugged. "I've recently had the opportunity to relive my own story. And, along the way, I noticed a number of details I believe I missed the first time. Now, I suppose I'm curious as to whether they might have been there all along. But, since I never bothered to keep a diary," he shrugged, "I suppose you've the next closest thing. So… next time?" he asked, as the gnat cleared her throat impatiently.

Henry nodded, as he put the game board and letters back in the Scrabble box and replaced the lid. "Sure."

As the Blue Fairy came forward to take the handles of the wheelchair, Henry quickly, slightly awkwardly, clasped his arms around Rumple's neck. "Bye, Grandpa," he blurted, and would have pulled away, had Rumple not fiercely returned the embrace.

"Stay safe, Henry," Rumple returned. "I'll hope to see you soon." And then Henry was gone and Rumple was on his way back to his room, accompanied by the Blue Fairy and his memories…

He didn't want to startle his son, and he knew Bae was likely to be more alert traveling alone in the dark at this hour. Instead of following Bae's trail, he teleported himself to a spot between the forest clearing and the house to which Bae was returning. Despite his efforts, though, the boy jumped nearly a foot in the air when Rumple stepped into view.

A moment later, he relaxed. "Oh, it's you, Uncle Gilitrutt," he breathed. "I thought it was Papa."

Rumple shook his head sadly. "Are you so afraid of him, then, Baelfire?" he asked, reminding himself not to use the diminutive. He—the elder he—hadn't spoken enough with the lad for that. At first, he'd been trying to still his younger self's fears that he was here to carry the boy off. And then, his younger self had taken steps of his own to distance them. Calling him 'Bae' now would be suggesting a relationship the lad simply didn't feel toward him now. But he would.

Bae shifted uncomfortably. "No. Not for me, I mean. But nobody else is safe."

Rumple swallowed. "Sometimes," he said slowly, "when a man who's never had power suddenly has it dropped on him, it can… Well, it can go to his head like strong drink. And sometimes, the hangover the next day isn't enough to teach him a lesson," he added, careful not to hint that he knew what Bae had gotten up to the summer before his arrival. Such rites of passage were common enough, and though he'd worried at first that Bae might be following Milah's path, he'd noted that Bae hadn't repeated the experiment and there'd been no reason to ever broach the subject.

"Drinking might make a man say things he shouldn't, or get sick in the mud. Maybe get him into a fight. It doesn't make him turn peddlers into snails or murder village girls!"

I hope you never need meet a drunken Dark wizard, Rumple thought. Or have occasion to learn what may indeed transpire in a fit of ale-induced rage. Murder in such circumstance is far from impossible. But it was unlikely in Pen Marmor, where the tavern keeper was wont to call the watch on belligerent drunks before matters got that far. Loud carousing and an occasional bar fight—usually with most of the serious damage inflicted on unfeeling tables and crockery—was generally as bad as it got before the aforementioned watch intervened. Or until a bouncer tossed a rowdy patron out on his ear. Aloud, though, he merely repeated Bae's last words. "Village girls?"

"Honora," Bae said at once. "Papa hired her after you moved into town. But when he thought she found out about," he glanced around worriedly, "about something he didn't want her to, he went to her house and he…"

So, Bae didn't know about Talorc. Rumple winced. The change he'd made to the timeline had been even slighter than he'd thought. And evidently, what with his younger self keeping him close to the house, Bae would have missed the talk about town. Or perhaps he'd heard it and guessed that Talorc's 'heart attack' had been brought on by grief at his granddaughter's death.

"He does love you," Rumple said heavily. "But that love makes him afraid. He's afraid to lose you, afraid that if he loses his power, he won't be able to protect you… Why, think about what happened when you were off with Morraine that day and the soldi—"

"I'm tired of hearing about that soldier!" Bae snapped. "Look, I'm glad Papa was there, but Morraine would have brought the watch or I would have got loose or I'd have made him see I can't control Papa—" His shoulders slumped and he added more softly, "No one can. Not without…" He shook his head. "But after tonight, that won't matter."

"Tonight?" Rumple repeated sharply.

"I don't dare wait another day now I've the means to help him!" Bae said, starting off up the road again. He went several steps forward and then stopped and turned. "Good night, Uncle Gilitrutt," he said. "I-I'm glad I had a chance to see you tonight. I mean…" He took another breath. "Goodbye."

Rumple smiled. "Probably best I don't see you to your door," he said, keeping his voice calm. "I rather suspect your Papa still won't want to see me. So, I'll just say goodnight here now."

He waited until Bae was out of earshot before he added, "But I shall see you again elsewhere before morning, son."

"And here we are," the gnat said, wheeling him back into his room. "Can you manage from here, or do you require further assistance?" Her voice was pleasant and professional, showing neither warmth nor rancor, and Rumple hesitated a moment before he replied.

"I believe you might assist me by answering one question." He glanced up, half-braced for a smug refusal, but the gnat merely inclined her head, a slight lift of her eyebrows the only hint of surprise.

Rumple took another breath. "You'll forgive me if my memory isn't what it ought to be. I suppose living parts of one's life twice can make one wonder which version is the one that stuck. However, it seems to me that at some point in the past, you might have done me some favor and thus placed me in your debt. Now, as I'm sure any association between us must be as detestable to you as it is to me, if such is the case, I hope you'll give me the opportunity to discharge that obligation so that we can each get back to the delightful business of staying out of each other's way."

The Blue Fairy shook her head. "Make your heart easy, Dark One," she said, still speaking pleasantly. "I'm sure I've never done anything of the kind."

"Ah." With that, Rumple rose from the transfer chair, took hold of the bed's handrail, and climbed in unaided. The fairy watched, her expression unreadable, until it was clear that he'd settled himself comfortably under the bedclothes. Only then did she depart.

In the hallway, she smiled to herself as she set out on her rounds. "The night Baelfire went through the portal, the enmity that existed between us merely as a matter of necessity became personal on your part. The only reason you never attacked me directly after that night was your quest to rejoin your son. Had you both remained, I've no doubt that you would have eventually joined forces. And then, you might have achieved both aims. So, you see, Rumpelstiltskin, there is no debt. On that night, we both helped each other. And I believe that we each received the greater part of what we wanted…"

"Where are we going, boy?" Rumple demanded, as Baelfire led him through the woods. He still didn't fully believe that Bae had found a way to free him from his power, but the boy clearly thought otherwise. "What kind of world is this we're going to? What kind of world is without magic?" And who was to say there was one and this whole endeavor wasn't some fairy trick?

Bae turned to him resolutely. "A better one," he pronounced, pulling out a bean so like the one he'd shown his own father so many years ago. But before he could fully process that, his son had cast it to the ground.

He'd known about the portal it would open. He'd done it himself long ago. But surely that time, the forces hadn't been so… violent, their winds so fierce they tore at him even though he was standing several feet away. And then the portal expanded before him and he wasn't so far away after all. No, it hadn't been like this last time "My gods, boy!" he screamed. "It's like a tornado!" It was a trick. Or the bean had been tampered with, or…

"We have to go through it!" Bae screamed back.

He'd always admired his boy's courage, but surely Bae had to know this wasn't safe! Deal or no deal, Bae couldn't mean to hold him to this! "No!" he protested. "No! I don't think I can!"

"We must!" Bae insisted. "It's the only way!"

From the trees, the elder Rumple stood watching, waiting for the right moment while his heart ached for both of them. Despite himself, he found himself hoping. Perhaps, his vague warnings to his younger self had been enough. Perhaps, this time, he'd choose differently. But in case he wouldn't, the elder Rumple now carried in his pockets some golden straws and small valuables he'd taken hurriedly from the house after seeing Bae and his younger self leave. It was no fortune, but it would, he hoped, be enough to start their new life with.

But if his younger self did choose differently, if he went through now, then the elder would make his own way home eventually. He knew the steps he'd need to take to craft the Dark Curse. He'd need to wait a couple of centuries for Cora to come along, and he could skip the ill-fated romancing this time and keep things strictly businesslike. No illusions, no pain, and he'd still get what he needed. He wouldn't even try to get Regina from her; Cora would start her on the path he needed her to walk. He'd give Snow White and her prince charming the proper nudges at the proper times and he'd never fling Belle headlong into Regina's clutches, not even when she tried to break his curse. He smiled. If he'd set up everything he needed in order to follow Bae by that point, he might even let her…

"What are you doing?" Bae's screams reached him. "Papa! It won't stay open long! Let go!"

As he watched his younger self jam the dagger even more deeply into the side of the pit that had opened at their feet, he realized that the events he'd lived once were about to play out again, just as they had before. Well, he told himself, not quite. He didn't need to listen to more pleas from Bae or protests from his younger self. If he didn't move now, he'd miss his opportunity. Again.

He plunged into the clearing toward the portal as Bae shrieked again, "Papa, please!"

"I can't!" his younger self cried out, letting go of Bae at last, and looking up. Their eyes met and his younger self's face twisted into a mask of fury as a globe of orange smoke formed in his hand.

"You coward!" Bae screamed. "You promised! Don't break our deal!"

As the elder Rumple tumbled into the vortex, in the instant before it closed behind him, he thought he saw an orb of blue-white light knock the orange globe from his younger self's hand and smelled the dusky woodsmoke and lavender fragrance of aged fairy dust swirling about him. The little sprite had done her work well.

Smiling, as he fell, he kicked his legs as though he were swimming, tried to catch up with Bae and thought of Storybrooke.

He was still thinking of it when they landed in Kensington Gardens.