Chapter Five

Blank Heart

Daisies and roses. The gravel road through the cemetery was lined with arrangements of daisies and roses, white as Emma Swan's magic had once been. A flower arrangement in the shape of an adult swan sat before the large stone memorial for her. Killian felt that his love had been anything but a delicate flower- still, this service was for the family's sake. He had been working hard -not on every detail of the service, that was easy enough with magic- but on the tokens that everyone in attendance would receive. Set into each tag board program was a little metal circle that was a replica of the pendant on Emma's favorite necklace- they were tokens, imbued with magic, that would grant a certain set of false memories. The questers and all those who were collateral damage, from Camelot, would be at the memorial service, and in a reflective mood. Susceptible to the new memories.

"Our daughter, the savior," Snow White began, holding Charming's hand, "is gone from the world."

A large crowd sat in folding chairs on the cemetery lawn and listened- Regina Mills, Killian Jones, and Pinocchio, were to speak as well, so it would take a while. Arthur and his wife, Guinevere, were there, dressed in plain tunics from their land and this world's nice wool coats over them. They fiddled with the programs as they learned about Emma Swan, the woman they briefly met-apparently six weeks ago, as part of these strangers' mission to find and eradicate the Dark One. All the knights, noblemen and their families sat nearby, as part of a gesture of friendship with their hosts. Arthur sympathized with the mourning parents at the same time that he recognized that this made them weaker leaders. Already he could tell they had lied, and their lies were unraveling. The questers had said that Regina was the savior, not Emma- could there be two? Why had they kept this woman's abilities a secret, back in Camelot? As their poor decisions came to light-Arthur would be the one to protect the people from further assaults of dark magic- and find a way back to his kingdom. If he couldn't find a way, this kingdom would do.

Slowly he remembered- Arthur had been there, watching this woman draw up an enchanted fire from basically nothing! He had watched her throw herself in and die! Everyone in his small, broken kingdom had seen it! He still wasn't sure what came before or after that - but he couldn't wait to gather his knights and tell them that this solved the mystery of their missing weeks!

After the service, many flowers and mementos were laid at the base of the tall onyx boulder that read, Emma Swan, 1985- 2016. People carpooled to Granny's Diner for an informal reception. Killian knew that by the time they got there and were ready to share memories about the dead, most of them would have one more...

Belle offered her condolences from the driver's side window of the polished black Cadillac Fleetwood Brougham de Elegance that had been Mr. Gold's. "Killian, I'm so sorry. I know what it's like, to lose someone you love to the darkness- and then-even to death!"

"I don't really know what to do with myself now," Killian said, honestly. "Except -help you with your beloved. Maybe you don't have to lose him yet again. When should I come by? The shop, or the library?"

Belle looked down when he said "beloved." With a car full of gossipy ladies in waiting who she had offered to chauffeur, she didn't want to admit to having a love that was so hard to explain - or not having one. "How about four? At the library? If you're up to it?"

He nodded. Pinocchio rode past on his motorcycle, giving Killian a suspicious, sidelong look. He hadn't lied during the memorial service- but he had omitted plenty. If he tried too hard to smooth things over, Pinocchio, the Blue Fairy, and others with insight on the Dark One would be even more suspicious. What could Killian do? They were unaffected by the memory loss and replacement he'd done.

Emma's parents came over to thank him for arranging everything so quickly. His vision of Emma was at his side, holding back tears of gratitude as she lovingly watched them leave in their faded red Ford. She pursed her pale lips and hugged herself tightly, expecting never to be hugged by family again, or seen by them in life or the afterlife.

She walked off into the cemetery, wanting to be alone.

A scowling, thin slip of a woman just Emma's age was among the last to leave the service. She rocked back and forth on her heels, passively watching Killian pack up folding chairs onto the bed of a truck he'd borrowed. She wanted to say something to the headstone, but didn't know how.

"Emma… " She whispered to herself. Killian felt like he was intruding, being able to hear so well over the clanks of metal chairs. "You kind of went to extremes, girl. I figured that... once you found you had a family, a real family that was real fucking royalty… thought you'd go on being lucky, and everything would be all fluffy-bunny for you." She pushed back her short, greasy brown hair. "But no, it wasn't. ...You decided to be THE damn Dark One. All that supposed evil you had when we were babies? I guess you sloughed it off onto me. And then you got it back again just by way of living life. And then you got real, like, metaphysical evil, and then apparently…. " She sighed. "You got rid of that too. Let's hope it's for good! Yeah, if you could do all that… what's my excuse, right? I should probably-I mean, I know I can… do better for myself. I don't really know how, but maybe I can be, like, a guardian dragon!"

Killian realized that this lass must be Emma's childhood friend that she had pointed out to him- Lilith? Or Lily? The one with the remarkable ability to transform into a dragon- and the unremarkable tendency to lie, cheat, counterfeit and steal. She would be a convenient scapegoat to keep around if he ever needed one, if anything ever went wrong with his magic-

An unwanted vision was there, watching him. Rumpelstiltskin perched atop the hood of the black Dodge, in a deep red jacket and vest, red pants of crocodile skin, and a cummerbund and pocket scarf made of some unrecognizable animal skin. He jumped down to confront the new Dark One about his plans for Lily. "My thoughts exactly, dearie. You'll find that in order to be the hero everyone wants - there has to be some villain!"

Killian growled at him as he hung his head and glared at the vision from the corner of his eye. That was why Rumpelstiltskin had his former students, the so-called Queens of Darkness, push Emma towards ruthlessness and evil! And it had worked! That was back when he'd been inventing the fiction of the Light One, a heroic role for himself that of course depended on everyone else around him having a completely opposite life!

Rumpelstiltskin's apparition squinted over at the would-be villain, Lily. "Someone worse-than- you!" With that, Rumpelstiltskin reached in and yanked Killian's flask from his jacket's inner pocket, then disappeared. Killian suddenly felt more violated -and thirsty -than ever.

Lily kicked pebbles along the road as she walked to the reception in East Storybrooke.

It was an afternoon of Bourbon. Crowded lunch counter full of people drinking and humming along to American Pie, playing on the jukebox. Cheery toasts giving way to the tears of strangers. Awkward attempts to make conversation with the son Emma left behind.

"You were friends with my mom, right?" Henry asked.

"Yeah."

"I read that- well, I read some pages that didn't make it into the Storybook, some pages the Sorcerer's Apprentice let me see-and they were about you…" The boy's curiosity seemed to get his mind off what had happened.

Lily shifted, and sighed. "Yeah, so it's true that she and I were supposed to balance each other, somehow, like, I was sent to this world -just to fuck it up, I guess, and she was sent to this world to- save the other one." She muttered under her breath, "And who was supposed to save this world from me…?"

"Do you think you'll be alright? I mean, all this isn't going to make you go into full-on beast mode, is it?"

Lily laughed, and elbowed Henry. "You're really something. It's you that I'd be worried about! But you know, you're like your mom, really... concerned for others… Listen, if you ever need-" Lily stopped herself from uttering the cliché. "If you ever need a ride somewhere. Or want to talk. My Rebel and I are here for ya." She wrote down her number on the back of a funeral program, and headed out. She had decided to walk today, knowing that she'd be drinking. Her old blue AMC Rebel was waiting at home, ready and willing to help drive around a young boy in need- even a boy who, people said, ran away a lot.

Someone followed Lily, someone who'd been listening intently to others' sensitive conversations, interested as he was in utilizing other people's regrets. He followed slowly enough to not be noticed, and to see the serious young woman go to a place called The Rabbit Hole bar.

It was a dim tavern trying to be uplifting with a cacophonous musical performance in the corner. Someone sang into a stick as noise poured out of large gray boxes that Arthur didn't understand. "Oh lord, don't let me be misunderstood," she sang to the lonely pub.

A man at the counter gave him a friendly nod. "Happy hour karaoke!" he explained. Arthur noticed few people there, and none were happy this hour. He ordered a pint of mead and watched Lily, sitting at the bar in his peripheral vision. This woman had pain and weariness written on her face. This woman had a 'beast mode.' Arthur had plenty of experience from his quests, drinking people's secrets out of them, while keeping his own. Still, his thirst was stronger than ever today- not that the sweet thick mead was particularly good here. It was just that abandoning his life's goals was particularly bitter. His kingdom was gone. Vanished. And the Dark One dagger-destroyed- so Excalibur would never be whole. A disappointment that he and Guinevere would keep to themselves, for as long as they could.

Lily ordered a whiskey sour and surveyed the small bar crowd. She didn't have the first clue about how to guard or help the people of Storybrooke, now that Emma was gone -and it was even harder to pit people against her grieving parents, the evil rulers Princess Snow and Prince Charming. That was what she was fond of doing here. Only after putting down the town's 'heroes' could she feel like she had a chance to be important, too.

"Hey you," she nodded to the man with dark, side parted hair, a long wool pea coat and- metal armored boots. "What were you? Back there? Hero or villain?"

"In my land, I was a king," he said.

Lily blew her brown hair away from her face and rolled her eyes. It was not as fun to rabble-rouse among royals.

The wind blew the door open before a shadowy figure that filled the doorway. Since Lily had last seen him, Captain Jones had been to the liquor store, filled his many jacket pockets with little bottles and a new flask, and seemed to have doused himself with the smell of alcohol. He ordered two shots and slid a third one down the bar to Arthur, then, gulping down his, ambled out again.

The captain stumbled down Main Street, up to the white double doors of the public library, feeling loaded down and confused. He just leaned against them and unlocked them without even thinking -fortunately, the only one in the low-lit public library was too preoccupied to notice this quick resort to magic. Belle Gold, looking beautiful as always -and sad, in all black - knelt, digging through a pile of books - today, a pile of fragile yellowed scrolls and handmade books in a trunk that was on the floor.

"The Dark One Chronicles. They're yours. It's your right."

Killian Jones tried to shake the voices from his head.

Belle looked up to say hello, but at once was filled with concern. "Killian! Are you - sit down, here. Just- we can wait on some coffee, huh? I'll start the coffee maker that's in the caretaker's apartment, and-"

"What?" he said defensively.

"You're drunk!" She started to tear up with concern -and anger. "And I could really use some help here!"

No, he thought, the Dark One can't really get drunk, any more than he can really sleep. "I haven't been drunk in years!"

"Well, you're- sure letting yourself act that way! And today, of all days, no one would blame you if you were. I'm not blaming you. You are welcome to keep me company… when you're sober, I might ask you to skim some of these texts that are in modern languages." She glanced at the magical bell jar on the reference desk. "Frankly, I don't have much time to help Rumpel!"

He tried to sit up straight on the low, polished wood chair. Where was his lovely ghost of a girlfriend, who should bolster him at a time like this? "Just -hand me that one at the bottom! And we'll, uh... read together."

"How about instead… you find me a Sanskrit and Latin dictionary from the stacks. That would be a great help," she said, trying to be kind and take things slow, "so I can at least make sense of the headings in these… the earliest Dark One journals…"

"Ah, I can read Latin," he offered. He grinned at her surprise. "Aye! Still have some learning from my time in the Royal Navy- and some French I picked up, in my travels."

She carefully laid out a thin scroll of spells in Latin and faded diagrams, on the desk.

"This is... hardly... instructions for resuscitation of any sort." He reached for the next scroll from the dusty trunk that must have been in Rumpelstiltskin's basement for years, judging by the smell. The sun quickly set as they gingerly paged through each of the Dark One tomes. The whistling wind and subtle darkness seeped into the library's front hall as they worked, taking down notes on tablets and copying phrases verbatim that they could not translate or make sense of. Belle's brow furrowed whenever she came across a morbid spell or the graphic, grisly experiences of the Dark One. Killian was unaffected, just thirsty -for drink and for knowledge. He was curious about trying some of these malicious spells on his enemy once he woke- which would be best to end him? He took a big swig. And- he wondered, which would work to end himself, after his revenge was satisfied?

Before they knew it Belle was yawning and shaking her head at the clock- 1 AM. Killian suggested, "Shall I walk you back to the hotel? We'll look at these tomorrow with fresh eyes?"

"Hotel-no- fresh- fresh air, fresh… perspective." She could barely talk or keep her eyes open.

They walked up and down quiet Main Street, beneath the peaceful face of the landmark white clock tower.

"Did Emma keep a journal?"

"No, and in that time she was dark- she was just trying to keep hold of her sanity. Best I can remember, anyway."

Belle sighed and said to herself, "So she ended it all." She kicked off and carried the tall heels that she always wore, to make herself taller and get a little more respect, and felt the cold sidewalk on her soles.

A couple blocks away, the Charmings' truck had parked on the street, bringing people home from the reception at last. Six dwarves hopped down off the truck bed and helped Granny down too. She was singing an old, sad folk song that echoed clearly off Storybrooke's storefronts.

"He quickly ran to her

And found she was dead

And there on her bosom

Where he soaked, tears he shed..."

It struck Killian as truer than Granny knew. She sang on the way home to her little hotel that had been ripped in half by their quest, and now had plastic and Tyvek wrap holding together its open front side.

"Her white apron wrapped around her

He took her for a swan

But a hush and a sigh

'Twas his own Molly Ban..."

The Charmings and the dwarves lingered in the street, listening and starting to cry again.

"He roamed near the place

Where his true love was slain

He wept bitter tears

But his cries were in vain

As he look on the lake

A swan glided by

And the sun slowly sank

In the gray up sky… "

Granny looked up at the sky as she sang, her voice cracking with emotion. She tarried going up the sidewalk, tired as she was, as they all were.

"What's after the end?" Belle asked, as she and Killian paused under a streetlight. "What comes after being the Dark One, if not death? If only Emma could tell us."

The vision of Emma was there, hugging him from behind, helping him mourn. "Free from life, but still weighed down by darkness," she whispered to him, sadly.

Killian repeated this sentiment to Belle as his best guess.

"And what if… in Rumpelstiltskin's case, freed from any darkness, and losing his- almost losing his-life?" Belle choked up.

"There was hardly a Dark One who wanted to be free from the darkness," Killian said slowly, holding a hand that only he could feel, as they walked back towards the library. "We won't have much luck -"

"Someone with light magic!" she exclaimed. In a moment of clarity, she said, "We're looking at the wrong journals! We need the writings of- someone who wanted to relieve the Darkness! Merlin still hasn't turned up- we don't know that we ever found him or that he ever came with us from Camelot -but maybe his journals did! Maybe that's what those books are, that appeared with the Curse -they were incredibly old-"

She almost tripped over herself as she ran back to the library, unlocked it, and rushed to her messenger bag underneath the counter. She laid out the thin hand-sewn books that had mysteriously come with them from Camelot and skimmed every page. A few days ago she had thought them to be old library books that she had probably borrowed in order to help King Arthur and Merlin, and they'd incidentally come with her to this world. Spellbooks, recipe books for all she knew. But now she noticed- the same handwriting, though different languages, different inks, different time periods judging by the language and styles, different format to each entry. This was the Sorcerer's notes over time! Who else had lived as long as the books were old? And the last entry-very brief, leaving several whole pages blank at the end of one book. What had interrupted him? Hadn't he been a benevolent Sorcerer, fighting to eradicate the Dark One? That was how the Apprentice had made him seem. Wouldn't the Sorcerer have taught the Apprentice that spell he'd used on Rumpel's heart? And then, shouldn't there be notes about it in here somewhere?

Killian caught up to her. "How can I help?"

Belle did not look up. "Sanskrit dictionary. Aramaic dictionary. Gaelic too."

"Maybe now you better make that coffee," he said congenially. He got her some dictionaries and reference books on these old languages, as she started brewing a pot of joe up in the library caretaker's apartment. Soon the sound of the percolating coffee pot coming from the back staircase gave way to the sound of snoring- she must have given in to sleep once back in her old quarters.

Killian read Merlin's ancient journal entries, fascinated. For the first time in several hours, he was fully distracted from drinking.

Entries written in desperation. A love story. A tale of normal hopes and broken dreams. The dark magic of murder -for revenge -that tore a couple apart. And the writer was frantic to restore her. Obsessed with the condition of her heart. Whoever she was- the Dark One ended up destroying her. First love lost. The writer wanted to destroy the Dark One and restore his love somehow- but the Dark One was elusive. Here! A plan! A list! As dawn warmed the windows, its light fell on a spell for drawing all darkness out of one person! Killian scrambled to look up every word in the Gaelic dictionary twice. He had to be sure. Roughly translated- it did seem familiar!

"Purest evil, blackest bloom

Darkness too can find its doom

Ever undying but contained

Bound Inside the falcon's chamber

Shorn of anger, thornless danger

There forever to remain..."

Wasn't that what the Sorcerer's Apprentice had chanted, that night that Rumpelstiltskin's ailing heart most needed the spell? Was that the same sort of magic the Apprentice had used on Emma before she was even born, to take away her great potential for darkness?

Killian read on. Surely this spell had not been tried on the Dark One of Merlin's day, because that Dark One ended up magically trapping him in the form of a tree. But it was a plan, and there must be follow up for such a plan.

Cedar roots. Saltwater from a storm on the sea. Fire, for its catalyzing effects -the original fire in fact. An acknowledgement of the person that was before. All these were ingredients that had the connotation of purity, and resuscitation!

The grizzled old pirate scratched his stubbled chin, and looked up at the many shrouded Dark Ones that had snuck into view from the shadows. These leering visions nodded encouragingly at him. Already the captain had changed, under their influence- without them, he wouldn't be much for reading all night! Much less would he be someone who could infer the ritual use for things!

He ran back to the Jolly Roger to begin. Cedar roots. Sea storm water. Fire.

Meanwhile, in the clearing in the woods uphill from Storybrooke where campfires constantly burned, the Knights of the Round Table slowly awoke. They had followed Robin Hood and his band up here after the memorial gathering, finding solace in their camaraderie and hospitality. They had found the camp of the Merry Men more comfortable than the eerie houseboats in East Storybrooke, where other newcomers were squatting.

The men shared stories of the Sherwood Forest and Camelot, neither too far from the Enchanted Forest that everyone else in town had hailed from. The talk this morning was all about how- and when- they'd be going back.

"My squire will be here shortly!" Arthur announced grandly to the hung-over group. "I've sent for him, to bring the Royal treasure chest which holds our relics of power! Yes, some of the treasury came with us from Camelot somehow! I found it in a safe place at the docks, where only I was meant to find it- and I've moved it among hiding places until the right time. Until now!"

Right on cue, the young squire Grif was seen through the trees, making his way to the circle of stumps and tents in the woods. He hauled a locked wooden chest.

"A surefire way to travel between realms!" Arthur proclaimed. "A magic bean from the land of giants!" He unlocked the chest with the key on a chain 'round his neck. He had everyone's attention. His plot with Grif was underway, providing something so vital that the service yesterday had reminded him of. Hope. His people needed hope, even if it was just enough to string them along so they'd follow him longer.

"It's- it's missing!" Arthur said as he shuffled the contents of the trunk around. Magical items from past quests in small satchels and bigger metal boxes- none of them contained a bean, or anything all that powerful, but they held the interest of the entire mixed group of men. It was enough to inspire some trust and respect for his resources, his ability to help them. "Who could have taken my key and stolen it? And when- while I slept? Or when we were disoriented, when we were transported here?" he asked the world at large, angrily. "Or- what happened during our missing weeks? Could it have been a forgotten theft or collusion of those who visited us there?"

The knights and the Merry Men looked between each other, confused. Now the questioning and tests of loyalty could begin. The new Camelot would be shaped just as Arthur wanted.

Belle woke with a start on the couch in her old apartment. Was it all a painful dream? Could she really just freshen up, go downstairs, and sort through genres of books to prepare for the library's opening? Was that all that was going on today? Maybe she could hope for a lunch date with her suitor, Rumpelstiltskin, too.

She saw her mess of hair and makeup in the mirror on the door. She'd slept in her nice black blouse and black skirt from- the funeral. There had been a funeral. No, it wasn't a dream, it had all really happened in the years since she'd lived in this little space. She'd already been married, had her heart broken, lived alone in a big fancy house, dated a stranger named Will, feared her husband's return, and after his return, she had watched him have a heart attack- almost die. And then she'd found out that one of the town's heroes, the only one who'd always stood up to Belle's husband, had died.

Going downstairs, she was surprised to find new notes on a notebook page left next to one of Merlin's journals. Killian had been looking at it- and had written an eerie poem amid some hastily scrawled theories. It was a spell he translated - the spell the Apprentice had used! And references to the person that was before, the strength of will, the purifying powers... Belle remembered what that kind older man had said about being able to help Rumpelstiltskin. "If the strength is there..." How much strength did Rumpelstiltskin, the man, really have, to begin again, without magic? Belle wasn't sure- about him, or her own strength. What if the spell worked and she was the only one to nurture his recovery? Would she have the strength of will to break her old habit of letting things slide? Or to hold back from angrily lashing out at him, with all the things she'd wanted to say?

She sighed as she realized she would need help with this- from a very strong-willed witch. The journal entry referred to other spells and experiments that, best she could tell, were not in these journals. There was more. The list of ingredients Killian had written down ought to be accompanied by directions. There were books from their quest that Regina had taken home. And she would definitely be the one to help put strength of will into the spell.

She chewed her lip nervously as she drove the car to Granny's, going over what she would say again and again. Regina would likely be there eating breakfast with her son. Belle's step-grandson, crazy as that was to think. Henry had warmed up to his grandfather-before the banishment- and -wouldn't he want him to recover? Wouldn't he want his grandfather to be his link to his father, and everyone else on his father's side, who he could learn about? That was it. That was how she would get to Regina.

Belle ordered an egg sandwich and waited for the regulars to file in. Including a glum preteen boy who sat with his adopted mother and her boyfriend's young son, and stared at his cup of hot chocolate apathetically.

"Hey," she said gently, nodding to him and pretending to be on her way out. "Ah- Henry, Roland- I'm sorry for- you lost her, we all lost her."

Henry took a deep breath and looked at her levelly- an empty look. "Thanks."

Belle went on, "I'm sorry we weren't able to find a way. A way for her to remove the darkness and live. I know I went on that journey just for that- and I don't know what went wrong-"

Regina leaned in as though to ask her to leave, discreetly.

"Here, Henry. I want you to have this- don't worry about bringing this copy back to the library." Belle set a hardcover copy of Gulliver's Travels on the table. "Your father loved this story. Now I may not have known too much about your mother, I don't know if she was into reading- but your father and I, we spent a lot of time together- during that year you had lost your memories and lived in New York. And I know he would. ...find comfort in a story, at a time like this."

She started to leave-paused- "If you want to talk- about your father, about anything… I'll be at the pawnshop today. Doing a lot of research on how to recover an ex-Dark One - could really use your help, actually, Regina." She turned and walked out to the car.

Later, at the shop, Belle was searching for something that would have been from Rumpelstiltskin's life before he was the Dark One. The spell seemed to call for that- but she'd known him as the Dark One only, and everything from before, from the person that was before… It had to be centuries old! She had seen such old clothes, once, old clothes of Baelfire's that Rumpel had saved from his childhood, where would they be? If only she knew of some story or piece of music that had touched Rumpel, in a figurative way, from his early life! That would be so much easier to throw into a spell!

The front door was thrown open-not by the company she hoped for. Prince Charming and King Arthur walked in. Charming's eyes were bloodshot; his gait was slower than the hyper-confident Arthur. "Belle! Has anyone been in, to sell anything recently?" Charming asked as they approached the counter. She shook her head.

"Important items are missing from my royal reserve, " Arthur added. He went on and on about a magic bean, as if she didn't know what that was or what it looked like.

Belle spoke to the weary sheriff softly. "Are you -sure you're ready to go back to work, David?"

With a deep breath, he said, "I'm ready to help our guests return to their land, if there's a land to return to. It's what my daughter would do… And you? Are you alright?"

She glanced at her large bell jar on the counter, and the wilting flower within appeared.

"Do you… Want our help, in any…"

"No, no, I'm just looking for an ingredient for a spell to help him, and it's a long shot," she interrupted. "I-I'm the only one who really knew his magic, who knows his-things- and well- I have to keep busy doing something."

Charming's eyes roamed the shop and lingered on a cheap steel cup that was pressed with an old fashioned design. "Ok, if anything, we can draw out the thief that stole their ticket out of here. Can I borrow that…?" he asked.

Belle shrugged. "Sure. It's not really valuable…"

"The Chalice of- Vengeance- a goblet of truth!" David said with a smirk, and Arthur followed him and the patterned stainless steel cup out the door. The wind that blew in from the door was cold and damp. A storm was brewing.

Back in East Storybrooke, the people gathered outside Granny's Diner, worried about how to escape the darkened skies and violent waves suddenly rocking the docked houseboats. They couldn't all take shelter in the same place, especially with their pets, livestock and horses that had been found in the woods in recent days and reunited with their masters from Camelot. The animals were restless with the whipping wind. Camelot's knights, courtesans and laborers alike were nervous, confused, and ready to scatter.

King Arthur held up a decorated cup as he and Charming stood on the steps of the diner, addressing the crowd on the patio. "Drink water from the Chalice of Vengeance and I will know whether you stole our kingdom's last magic bean. First truth, then we will lead you to shelter!"

Charming tried to rub the weariness out of his brow, then his chin. He said to Granny, behind his hand, "It looks like it'll start raining hard... and if it rains and gets much windier, call Regina and ask her to magic everyone to the basement of town hall."

Several women lined up to be first to drink and tell the truth, including subdued Guinevere. One young knave slipped away from the line for a truth serum placebo -Grif. Once noticed, he panicked and stole a horse, riding away.

Charming was hot on his heels- then, thinking he could round up Grif and horse at the valley in the woods that he was heading towards, he hopped in his truck. Arthur climbed in the passenger side and they sped through an alley, onto the gravel road and then off-road up into the forest. They headed off Grif and the galloping horse at a clearing - he was quick to out-maneuver them and ride up a steep narrow trail through the trees.

"Hurry before he uses that bean and really gets away!" Arthur said. Charming had driven these trails and all over Storybrooke in searches for villains past. He whipped a U-turn and gunned the engine to get them from the clearing to a valley where it was all too easy to hide from the world. Pressing on the gas, he almost got them caught up to Grif, who looked behind frantically, with his old world cloak snapping in the wind.

They couldn't chase him back and forth between this long ravine and the clearing forever- there wasn't anywhere else apparent for him to go, in the dense woods. Grif saw the driver of the truck climb out its window, with Arthur grabbing the wheel inside! He couldn't imagine what were they doing!

The young man rode along the ravine's edge, to the tree line, then yanked in the reins to turn back and ride along the other side of the ravine. He figured they would pass him going the opposite way, then get stuck.

He didn't expect the prince to climb onto the truck bed and stand up suddenly with a long 2'x4' outstretched! He tried to duck- but the beam was held out over the ravine and right before the horse! It hit Grif squarely in the chest and threw him down. The game was up. The truck braked just in time and rumbled back to town with him pinned between the two royals in the cab.

Grif kept his silence in Storybrooke Jail. If this were the role that his king needed him to play, the role of the unbreakable prisoner and scapegoat, he would play it to the end. Outside, the Dark clouds were parting. The impending storm seemed to have passed.

Belle dragged a cauldron out of storage and into the middle of the pawnshop. The spell to help Rumpel was coming together - she'd found some fairly fresh cedar root and had unearthed the old brown tunic of Baelfire's that was already imbued with magic. It was draped carefully over a display case- if this spell worked, could Rumpel forgive her for destroying the garment in the process?

She tensed as the front door opened and- Regina and Henry came in, closing and shaking off their umbrellas. Regina had brought a black briefcase along- the reference books from Camelot! "I... take it you want to compare notes," Regina said awkwardly.

"Yes! Regina- I don't know if we met Merlin in our missing weeks, but we at least brought back his journals!" Belle rushed to pique the busy woman's interest. "I've found his writings about the first Dark One, about a woman he lost to the Dark One and his theories about how to limit the Dark One -or even rehabilitate him, to get her back- and how the sword got into the stone, to protect the world from the capability to destroy all dark or all light magic…!"

"And I… have found what may have been Merlin's handbook of magical items and rituals," Regina said carefully, flipping through a fairly modern hardcover volume before her and shaking her head. "Or, it might have been someone else's book written with the help of... visions of Merlin, just as Arthur claimed to have had such help."

"So with this ingredients list," Belle said, holding up Killian's notes, "What would be the process?"

Henry gently elbowed his adoptive mom, encouraging her to lend Belle a hand just for the sake of lending a hand, as he tended to do. Regina glanced it over, then took her long tailored slicker off and draped it over her arm. She rolled up her sleeves. "Looks like there's a multiple-step process in this second spell book here, that mentions some of those ingredients… I'd been wondering about that... but first I'll need to see him. See how far gone he is."

Belle took a step back at those blunt words, but gestured for her to go to the back room where her husband lay as though asleep.

"So, I guess. ... we can try and save my grandfather, even without- the savior-" Henry said.

"There are many ways to be a savior, dear," Belle answered. "My mother -she actually died protecting me, from the ogres when they hit our castle. When I was a teenager, she saved me."

"If Grandpa wakes up- are you still together? Do you still love him?"

"I don't know… how... to stop loving him," Belle slowly sounded out the words she had struggled to accept as true, for a long time.

"Last I saw him he was sword fighting my mom in a fictional… universe." he said dryly.

She felt like any explanation given at Henry's level would be incomplete, but for the sake of hope in this dark time in his life, Henry needed some explanation. "It's like -if you had a friend who was in a coma and may have brain damage. You want to be a good friend, even though he probably will wake up acting like a completely different person. ... than you have ever known. And there's a chance that if you help him now, when it's toughest, you'll grow to be even closer."

Henry nodded, pursed his lips. She hadn't answered his question about how they could still be together, after all he did. She could just see him growing jaded.

With the silence, she could hear Regina hissing hateful words, in the back room.

"You asshole! What if you die and we're all stuck here and-you were the only one to ever find ways past the cursed town line! What am I supposed to do?"

"Regina! What are you doing?" Belle exclaimed, running to Rumpelstiltskin's side. Belle figured he could be influenced by their voices. A pause. "Getting something off your chest huh?"

Regina Mills scowled at the still, peaceful man on the cot. She concluded, in a low tone, "Damn you, if this works, you'll really hear it!" She went back to the iron cauldron to get started.

"Rumpel-be strong!" Belle whispered, kneeling by his head and smoothing his limp brown hair, caressing his head and shoulders. "I am here for you!"

She heard the bell on the front door chiming happily. "Ah, 'ello Madame - young man-" She heard Killian say.

"We're in the middle of something. Do you mind pickling at home?" Regina asked. Belle emerged from behind the heavy curtain and saw her dark eyed friend holding a jar of dirty water.

He responded, "This isn't for pickling! It's-"

"I meant you! You're pickling yourself with drink and we all have to smell it!" Regina shot at him.

"Storm water!" Belle gave Killian an abrupt hug. "For the spell! Thank you!"

"It's nothing, love. Now do you have-"

She held up the Cedar root and the worn old child's garment of burlap and wool. "Something that touched Rumpel before he was the Dark One."

"No!" He started. "She made it! It's all that is left of hers!" Killian gestured for her to set down Baelfire's shirt gingerly, then unsheathed the cutlass at his side. He would not let something of his long lost lover, Milah's, be sacrificed for Rumpelstiltskin-even her son had sacrificed himself for Rumpelstiltskin. "Here. All too well I remember how he once approached me on my ship, too scared to fight. My cutlass pressed against his neck and still he just whimpered in fear..." He rested the blade inside the cauldron. "He was just a cripple then."

"Well, I'm impressed," Regina said. "You found a way to contribute even without Emma leading you around."

Killian's black-lined eyes flashed with anger. Little did Regina know that Emma intended to do just that, for the rest of eternity. What could he say?

"Please don't fight!" Henry got between them, anxious to stop the adults in his life from reverting to villainy. "This is about saving someone from the Dark One magic- what my mom died for- and you know what she would say. -That we all have something to contribute."

Belle held up the glass cylinder with the crumbling, black stem and leaves inside- only one petal left on the rose. "He's almost out of time!"

With that, the three adults began the spell, following each other counterclockwise 'round the cauldron, with their hands held above it. At Regina's instruction, they willed the ingredients to meld together, and bubble with the heat of a magical flame that Regina had conjured under the pot, suspended in the air so it didn't burn the floor. She couldn't know what Killian knew with the promptings of Dark Ones past- that the catalyst must be the original Promethean fire. Lucky for them, Emma had rekindled this fire not long ago with her incredible hope and belief in the future.

A vision of the dead- scaly blue green Nimue and ghost white Emma appeared beside Killian, each with a hand gripping the small brown box. Together they lifted the stone lid.

"You'll see, he has a future, he deserves to live," Emma said to him.

"You'll see, you'll get your revenge!" Nimue said.

Killian saw the bright orange flame within the box feed into the fire that was licking the bottom of the cauldron—and the lamps in the narrow little shop flickered and the ingredients really began to churn. Belle, Regina and Hook walked 'round with outstretched hands quivering with the force of concentration and will. Henry watched in wonder, for he had never seen his adopted mother use teamwork like this before. She would typically try to solve things with her magic alone -at times it was scary, at other times intriguing. He was never sure if he should support her in this or implore her to quit magic. It always came with a price…

Regina checked the reference book again and hurriedly said, "It's ready!" It took the three of them to lift the cauldron up and over Rumpelstiltskin- as the steaming gray contents poured out, they turned to ash and dust falling on his chest.

Wrinkled eyelids flew open. The older man gasped.

"Rumpel! It worked!" Belle threw her arms around him in a tearful hug, then helped him sit up.

"Mr. Gold!" Henry knelt beside him happily, looking him over. "How do you feel?"

Mr. Gold was overwhelmed -and feeling a bit cold and hollow. He gave his wife and grandson eager hugs and kisses on the forehead. "What HAPPENED?" he asked.

"Your heart- it was almost completely black- we tried to take all the darkness out of you and put it in that hat, and then it went- somewhere else-! And you didn't wake up for more than six weeks!" Belle couldn't explain it all at once.

"Where's the Sorcerer's hat now?" he asked.

"Destroyed, Rumpel, gone! Just like the dagger!"

Rumpelstiltskin was floored. Relieved, confused, unsure about who and what he was now-and disappointed that it had come to that point. He'd come to the point of his death- and he hadn't found a way to hold onto both his life and his power. He looked up at Captain Hook and Regina in bewilderment and fear. How would he stand against those who had every reason to be his enemies? Weren't they still enemies? He tried to stand, shrugging off Belle's supportive arm- and he fell back onto the cot. His foot! It was broken again! Henry brought him a cane from the refurbished spittoon that held umbrellas, staffs, canes and a decorative sword.

"Why did you wake me-I'm nothing now," Rumpel asked, looking down. He couldn't be moved to eat or drink or even listen to them as the questers tried to tell the broken tale of their quest. Killian realized what a pitifully easy vengeance he would have, as soon as this empty shell of the crocodile was left alone...

"Well, we'll leave you to rest… and recover," Regina said, and she, Henry, and Killian moved towards the front of the store. Regina swept the hardcover books as well as the old worn journals from Camelot into her briefcase.

"There must be something that would get him to feeling like himself," Killian muttered to his friendly nemesis, Regina.

"There is… something," she said, nodding towards a china cabinet in the corner. "A long time ago, when the Curse of this town was breaking… I had to steal it." She raised her eyebrows and spoke softly. "I actually had to have someone steal it."

"What?" Henry asked, giving his mother an insistent, wide-eyed look.

"I… do owe you an explanation Henry. It was back when this town was waking up…" They went out to their car and talked.

Killian examined the china cabinet. Some thing. He and Regina had both tried stealing Rumpelstiltskin's love away, in long past efforts to get to Rumpelstiltskin. Was there a thing that represented his love, perhaps, that could be just as important? He felt drawn to a single porcelain teacup- it was just like the others except for a small chip. And, it seemed to have the vibration of something that had magic thrust upon it! Killian wasn't sure how he could sense that. To keep his cover, he would have to have someone else steal it, indeed. Maybe then, Gold could be roused to really fight him!

He headed out, to find his thief.

A strangely giddy vision skipped along the road ahead of him. "A plot, a plot, as thick as pea soup, a scheme, so it seems..." he sang. The spirit of dark Rumpelstiltskin taunted him, leading him towards the Rabbit Hole bar.

"Goddamn, you're still around! Bloody simpering reptile! When I finally kill you will I be rid of this demon?" Killian spat.

"If not for us, you wouldn't be this close to revenge!" sang the vision, as it blurred into a hooded and unrecognizable Dark One.

Killian restlessly repeated to himself that if not for Rumpelstiltskin he would never have known about the Dark One, never would have gotten involved with Emma's family, never would have sought out this curse of living an extraordinarily long time, and never would have become the Dark One himself.

"You never would have met me," the ghost of dark Emma added, sadly. She walked alongside him quickly, trying to catch his eye. Killian privately wondered if that would be for the best. If he hadn't met her he would have been stuck on Milah, someone who inspired him, loved life, didn't throw it away for self-sacrificial things… didn't expect him to be good at all times. He would not have been distracted from his deepest desire. He wanted to duel the mortal Rumpelstiltskin again and again, and to beat him sorely each time! He wanted him to die a thousand deaths!

At the Rabbit Hole, the jukebox played Van Halen and a surprising number of Arthur's knights crowded the pool tables and dartboards. "It's hoppin' for a Sunday, eh?" the bartender joked. A woman with a tight red T-shirt and short, piecey hair paced with a pool stick, talking loudly to the newcomers who kept breaking away from their games to flirt with her. The only woman there. Lily.

Killian ordered rum as his favored thief was apparently busy. He overheard boisterous newcomers and merry men talking about a different thief.

"What got into young Grif, huh?"

"He was hungry!"

"Beans, beans, the magical fruit!" Lily laughed.

"I guess he rather none of us go back home, than have to live somewhere where Arthur is king!"

"We could just wait for his magical shit! And then grow a magical beanstalk or bean-hole or whatever it is."

The men laughed.

"You think that's bad?" Lily chimed in. "I would rather completely change than live under a king - or", she said in a high, prissy voice, "a prince and a princess."

"Oh, what can you really do?" shrugged a burly middle-aged man with a mug of beer.

"Believe it or not, I almost killed that Princess Snow White once," Lily bragged. "Almost got her- smashed her head against a rock! Almost torched the whole field where Snow White and Prince Charming were!"

The men oohed and jeered.

"Yeah right!"

"How'd you manage that!?"

Killian left, as it seemed Lily would be surrounded for a while. He could seek out someone more handy- this Grif fellow, or bumbling ol' Mr. Smee.

Killian and his beloved vision took his newly claimed car out to a quiet neighborhood near the docks, to check in on Smee first.

Daisies and roses. Leaving Main Street behind, they left the smell of daisies and roses in the many repurposed flower arrangements on doors, in large pots, hanging off street lamps, decorating porch railings… All of Storybrooke showed its grief over Emma.

"Easy on the clutch!" Emma reminded Killian from the passenger seat. "Try putting it in neutral first!"

He grinned at her and parked on the street.

Walking to the docks, he saw a thin column of smoke rising from a thick part of the woods on the hill. The smoke of a lone cook fire. Far from the trails, far from the campsite where Robin Hood's raucous gang could be heard most nights. He followed the smell of smoke from someone's early dinner, thinking it would lead him to what he really needed to keep his cover- a true outsider.

"If I had another penny, I would get another gill..." A strong, clear voice could be heard singing in a Scottish accent, as he got closer.

"I would have the piper play the bonny lads of Byker Hill!"

Killian was noticed immediately as he approached a young woman with long, unkempt red hair from fifty yards away. She jumped to a low stance with a knife pointed at him, a knife bloodied by deadfall rodents she was about to barbecue.

Killian kept coming, slowly, with hands up. He knew the sea chanty she'd been singing, and brought up the chorus.

"Byker Hill and Walker Shore, collier lads forever more, Byker Hill and Walker Shore…"

"Stay where ye' are!"

"I know that song- I was a sailor- maybe we know each other from the land of Camelot?"

"Not likely! And 'at's a miners' song, not a sailor's song! What of it?" the maid in a dirty royal blue dress did not lower her knife.

"Just- hoping for company and, well- I can't remember much! How we got to this new land, or the people here- trying to find anything that's familiar! There are so many others who lost the memories of recent weeks as well!"

"Ah, well, I sure don't remember you. Sailor? I think you mean pirate."

He grinned and tossed his hair a bit. She glanced at his rings, necklaces, earrings, and shiny trench coat. "Aye, that too."

"All weapons down, if you want comp'ny so bad!"

Killian turned out each of his pockets, showed the inside of his coat to be empty, and came towards her with open hands. He crouched by the fire and hummed the low tune, Byker Hill.

"I was about to be crowned Queen Merida back home, on the isles of Dun'Broch. Until… blast the magic curse that brought us here! I've got to find some magic, magic's the way here an' back! Until then, I'm just a warrior." She went back to cooking. "And you?"

"Just a traveler… a former Captain. I've found that I have some more of my memories than most people from Camelot and the Enchanted Forest…"

"Neva heard of 'em."

"Oi, if you could tell me more and jog my memory, maybe I could help you…"

Meanwhile Rumpelstiltskin leaned against the back wall of his workshop, looking over his tools and projects. These would be his bread and butter, now, without magic or the force of intimidation to get what he needed. His estranged wife Belle was still there, making them a pot of tea on a hotplate. He figured she would give up on him sooner or later.

"Belle, you don't have to make me anything. I'm alright. I feel. ... about as well as I ever did, in my life before the Dark One. I realize I… wouldn't be alright, if not for you." Rumpelstiltskin fought back tears. The young, hopeful woman came over to him-he looked into her sparkling eyes and said, "I heard you. Somehow I heard you telling me to be strong. And I hung on…"

"I did talk to you, and when I couldn't be near you, I talked to this rose," Belle said quietly, glancing at the perfect, shining flower that floated and spun in the bell jar made from Fairy magic. "That shows how deep our connection is, Rumpel!"

"I know there's a difference between wanting me to live and wanting to be with me, Belle," he said, trying to be practical. "If you want to start over- Why don't you take some time to think about what you really want, and tell me in… a couple days. Go home, get some rest, then we'll make a decision… or you could tell me if you need more time."

Her smile fell away. "Home? What- your house? I've hardly been there in two months- When will you come home?"

"I'm fine here. Comfortable enough. I want you to have the house, at least for now. You'll see what things you would want... if, well, if we formally-"

Belle's jaw dropped. She wasn't ready for this conversation about divorce. She wished one of them had magic, just enough magic to pull his heart from his chest and show him how clean and pure his heart was now. Anything was possible- this wasn't the end, it should be the beginning-a fresh start, a blank heart.