Chapter 1: Of Innocence and Experience
Gold winced as David slid into the shotgun seat of the squad car: that left only the backseat available, and for the town landlord to be seen riding in the backseat of a police vehicle could never be good for business. But with nowhere else to go, Gold slid into the seat and sat with his eyes locked forward, his chin raised in defiance of any gossip this trip might inspire.
As Emma shifted into Drive, David twisted around to face Gold. "Something I've wondered about."
Gold raised an eyebrow, a small gesture granting permission to ask the question, but offered no other encouragement.
"You signing that contract with Ella—it was too easy. A guy who can see the future shouldn't have fallen for a trick like that."
For a long moment, Gold studied the prince from the corner of his eye. Finally, satisfied there was no trick in the question itself, Gold answered, "Seeing the future is simply a skill. Reading the future is a talent. And seeing and reading one's own future accurately is practically an impossibility."
David persisted, "You knew the contract was a trick, though. You as much as said so even while you were signing it."
"I did."
"Why'd you do it? Why'd you let us catch you?"
"Those one hundred twenty-one days in prison were my down payment. As it happened, it was a much steeper price than I had expected to pay. There was little you could or would do to me, I assumed: you couldn't execute me; I was an immortal. With the curse coming soon, I expected my imprisonment to be short and possibly—knowing your sense of humanity and Snow's kindness—relatively comfortable."
Emma glanced at him through the rear view mirror. "What were you making a down payment on that was so expensive?"
Gold stared out the window, glaring at Granny, coming out of the grocery store. "The most costly purchase of all: the introduction of magic into a world it was never intended to exist in."
"You ready to tell us now why you did that?" Emma prodded. "Or is that still a 'not telling' thing?"
"My intended purpose has been satisfied."
"Neal."
"Considering the recent assaults upon our peace and quiet, however, I believe I'll find continuing use for the magic." He finally met Emma's eyes through the mirror. "And you, Princess Emma—I understand your reluctance to employ your newly discovered gifts, but I think you'll find, as I have, sometimes there is no choice but to resort to the use of magic, and you'll just have to accept the costs. Only magic can fight magic."
"All I want is a nice, quiet, normal life. You know what would be a perfect day for me? A day where the problems I have to deal with are, like, arresting a florist for stealing a teacup. Not dodging magically produced fireballs and chasing down stolen daggers."
"I'm afraid those days will be a long time in coming, Sheriff."
David asked, "Is that you seeing the future again?"
"It's me knowing a born hero when I see one."
They found Mary Margaret sitting up in her bed, her arms wrapped around her knees, her hair uncombed, her clothes and her face creased from days of thrashing about in bed sleeplessly. Henry sat at the foot of his grandmother's bed, his storybook spread across his lap, but he'd given up reading to her hours ago. Emma knelt beside him, whispered something, handed him his jacket and his backpack, and he left silently.
"Sent him to Ruby's?" David asked quietly, and Emma nodded. They drew the dining room chairs toward the bed and seated themselves, far enough away to give Gold space, but close enough that they could provide any support he required.
Gold stood, in his usual stiff posture, beside the bed, his hands folded atop his cane. "Snow." When she didn't respond, he repeated her name louder, more firmly.
She stared at her knees and said sourly, "I suppose you're here to gloat."
His face remained expressionless. "Why would I do that?"
She finally looked at him. "Because you won. Cora's dead, you're alive, you've got your dagger back, and I'm a murderer. Four wins in one stroke; quite a coup."
"I've never wished you ill, Snow." His voice softened. "Your husband, yes, but never you. If you'll think back on our interactions in this world and the other, you may believe me when I tell you I've always thought it true what was said of you: 'the fairest of them all'—as fair of heart as you are of face."
"Not any more!" She snapped. "Not any more. Black at heart! A murderer!"
"The fact that the killing of Cora troubles you as it does is proof that you're no murderer."
Snow swung onto her knees to set herself at eye level with him. "Regina yanked my heart out and showed it to me. It was black! She said she didn't have to bother to kill me; I was killing myself. I'm becoming as evil as she is!"
"You have a very long way to go before you can make that statement, Snow." Gold shifted his feet, taking his weight off his bad ankle. "But she's right about one thing: you are killing yourself. And that is not acceptable—not to your family, not to this town, and not to your grandson, and therefore, not to me. I'm offering help, if you'll accept it."
"What can you do? You're just as evil as Regina and Cora. Even if you could help me, I can't trust you." Her voice was raw with tears.
Gold lowered his eyes to the floor, his hair partially hiding his face. After a long moment, he said, "I'm sorry you feel that way, Snow. Of late, I've given you reason to distrust me. But your husband and your daughter and I have begun to mend fences, and though there is a lot of work ahead of us before anything like peace can be achieved. . . you risked your soul to save my life, and I owe you whatever help I can give."
David rose from his chair and knelt beside her on the bed, taking her hand. "Let him help, Mary Margaret. I'm afraid of what will happen to you—to us—if you don't."
"My BS detector says he's legit—this time," Emma added. "Let him try, and if he pulls anything shady, we'll kick his tail out of here."
"Give me just a moment," Gold urged. "At the least, allow me to make certain Regina was telling you the truth."
"How?" David asked.
"Let me look at the heart."
"No!" Snow protested. "It hurt worse than anything I've ever felt when Regina pulled it out of me. I won't go through that again."
"I can extract the heart without hurting you." Gold laid his hand on his chest. "I promise. So we can be sure your heart really is blackened, and see the extent of the damage."
Snow drew in a deep breath and hung her head as she considered the offer. At last she nodded.
"Lie back and try to relax. Close your eyes and breathe slowly."
Wiggling down into her pillows but still clutching David's hand, Snow obeyed. Without touching her, Gold passed his hand, now glowing softly, over her face and her chest. The crease between her eyebrows dissolved, her breathing deepened and slowed, the tension faded from her body. It was the first real rest she'd had in five days. Gold hesitated, reluctant to disturb it, but the task had to be completed. His hand hovered over her left side.
David could feel the energy flowing from the magic, working like a soft, warm towel applied to a sore muscle. The residual effect enabled him to relax too. For just a moment, David wondered if maybe Henry was wrong about magic. If it could give Snow this rest, could it be all bad?
Gold's hand moved toward Snow's chest and then vanished inside. A second later, his hand came out bearing a glowing, throbbing, crystalline thing.
Fascinated, Emma came to stand behind him, leaning over his shoulder to see the object.
"You can open your eyes now," Gold said. Holding it loosely, he brought the heart close to his eyes so he could examine it in detail.
"I don't feel it," Snow worried. "Is there something wrong with it?"
"It's a fine, healthy heart," Gold assured her. "A little larger than most people's. A little more. . . diamond-like. The reason you don't feel anything is I've applied a mild sedative to it." He raised the heart and studied it from different angles, until he finally found what he was looking for. He pointed it out to Emma: a dark spot the size of a dime in the center of the heart.
"Show me," Snow demanded—but when he did, she threw herself face-down into her pillows. "It's true." David stroked her hair and whispered to her, but he kept stealing glances at the heart.
"There are two explanations for this," Gold said. "Either evil truly has entered your soul, or you believe it has." He nudged David aside and gently drew on Snow's arm until she turned over.
She glared at the heart as he brought it close to her chest, and she attempted to push his arm away. "Don't. Don't put it back. If you don't put it back, the evil won't spread through me."
Gold drew his hand away, but he said, "Cora thought she was better off without a heart." He was about to say more, but he suddenly shook his head and turned his face away.
"Gold," Emma asked quietly, "did you care for Cora?"
He answers the question sideways, directing his reply to Snow. "That's the difference a heart makes, Snow. Do you really want to cut yourself off from your family and your friends? Do you really want to never love again?" When Snow didn't respond, he asked Emma to hold the heart. "David, may I?"
When he caught on, David nodded. If Snow could tolerate it, so could he. He lay back, allowing Gold's magic to numb his chest, and he watched with great curiosity as Gold withdrew his heart.
He turned the heart around, showing it to both of them, then to Emma. A black spot the size of a nickel was planted in its center.
"Me?" David gulped.
"I've seen a great many hearts in my time, Snow, and none of them was pure. No one gets through this life without some loss of innocence. It's a fact of life that each of us must learn to accept in ourselves and in others; it's why we need forgiveness. It's why we need love, to keep us from giving in to the darkness."
David withdrew into himself as Gold returned the heart to his chest. Gold then took Snow's heart back from Emma. He raised his eyebrows in inquiry. Snow sighed; he accepted that as permission to return her heart to her chest.
And then he extracted his own heart to show them. Darkness stretched like fingers throughout the heart, as they expected—but, as Emma pointed out, there was a surprising amount of healthy pink left.
"Okay," David said. "Maybe you're not all bad. Just mostly bad. Unless," he quirked his eyebrows toward Emma, "this is a trick?"
Emma shook her head. "The BS detector's still reading in the green." She turned to Gold. "You said there were two explanations for those spots. Actual evil or—"
"Perceived evil," Gold finished for her.
"What if it's that? What if Mary Margaret only thinks she's evil? Can her heart be fixed?"
"If that's the case, then what you saw is merely a shadow and yes, exposing a shadow to light makes the shadow disappear."
"How do we do that?" David asked.
Gold shifted his feet again, with a small wince, and Emma brought him a chair. As he lowered himself, he thanked her. Comfortable now, he answered, looking at Snow, "We show you the truth. Truth always comes with a risk. You may find that what you fear is true—though, having known you a long, long time, I don't think so. But knowing you, I also think if we go down this path, you'll experience additional pain. If you'll bear in mind, dear, that you have the power to turn your pain into wisdom, you'll be better for it."
Snow frowned. "But I'll learn the truth about myself?"
"Aye. The question to consider is, when you're shown the truth, will you accept it?"
Suspicion remained in her voice, for this was still the immortal and powerful sorcerer Rumplestiltskin hiding behind the mask of a sour, slight, middle-aged man. "What's your plan? Are you going to pour some potion over my heart? Cast some spell on me?"
"No magic. It was not the cause of the problem, so it's not the solution."
"What do you mean, 'not the cause'?" Snow's voice rose. "Of course it was the cause! Henry's right: magic is the cause of all our suffering here! It was that cursed candle that made me a murderer."
"You're wrong, child. I wish we could put the blame on magic; then we could be done with the guilt. But magic was just the instrument; it was your decision, your election of the choice to kill, that's troubling you. It's your choice we need to eliminate, not magic."
"It's done! I can't take it back! I can't change my choice!" She leaned forward, her fists opening and closing as if any additional provocation would prompt her to claw his face.
"You can," he insisted. "I can show you that the choice you think you made is not the choice you actually made."
"Riddles," Emma grumbled. "Get to the plan, Gold."
"It's a fact that Snow's actions led to Cora's death. It doesn't necessarily follow, however—though Snow thinks it does—that Snow committed murder. I propose we put the question to a jury. Let them determine whether what Snow did is the evil act of a dark soul—or the appropriate response of a mother protecting her family and her community from certain destruction."
David said slowly, "You want to put Mary Margaret on trial."
"For murder. Yes."