Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. This one turned into a monster and may need careful editing and a rewrite later. But, for now, enjoy.

Uh, and reviews are always welcome.

The knife.

A bit of digging, that was all it had taken in the end.

And, now, it was in her hand.

Regina smiled. Which would be better? To kill the old master who had always relished saying she would never get the better of him? Or to drag things out? To make him slave and work for her?

Perhaps a bit of both.

There was no reason to rush things, after all. She thought of her dead father and how his heart had beat in her hand before she killed him. She thought of how Rumplestiltskin had marked her hand before sending that demon of his to suck her soul.

She would make him pay, she decided, and not just with his life. It was time for him to offer her the heart of the thing he loved most.

Still smiling, she walked towards Rumplestiltskin's house.

X

The important thing when breaking out, Tom had learned, was not to get cocky.

Well, the really important thing was to not get caught.

And to break out.

Nobody tried to catch you so long as you were in your cell, after all, and sitting around feeling helpless was about as anti-cocky as it got; there just wasn't much point to it . . . .

And staying focused. That was probably important, too.

He'd slept through most of the day, partly because it seemed like a good idea, mostly because they'd drugged him.

But, now it was time to be moving on.

First, get past the guards on his door.

Tom assumed they were there to protect him and to stop anyone else from getting his blood. He knew, from his last trip, one of them was called Leroy and the other was Walter. Currently, they were known as Grumpy and Sleepy.

And he'd always thought Sirena drew the short stick when it came to names.

Normally, if he hadn't had a knife stuck in him, he'd climb out the window. The wound would still probably close before morning – it's what Goblin wounds did – but he didn't feel up to it now.

But, they didn't know that, did they?

He also knew how to work quietly and not attract attention. Even when there were guards watching the door.

Then, when he had everything ready, it was time to get them to look. He made the right noises, and Grumpy and Sleepy looked in to see what it was that had sounded like something thumping just outside the window. Then, they rushed inside.

They saw the scene Tom had made for them, the empty bed, the open window, and the sheets carefully tied together as ropes hanging out the window. They quickly drew the conclusions Tom had hoped they would and rushed out, raising the alarm.

He hoped it would be a while till they noticed the sheets stopped way short of the pavement, not that Tom would have broken anything on a little fall like that. Even a normal human might not have if he knew how to land properly.

The most important thing, though, was for Grumpy and Sleepy not to notice the shadow in the corner of the room watching them.

Tom waited till Dwarf One and Dwarf Two had run off, before dropping the shadow illusion for another. People – especially ones who had reason to worry about magic and curses – tended to notice shadows walking along brightly lit corridors when there was nothing to cast them.

But, an orderly in scrubs? Who was going to notice that?

Well, anyone who knew who was supposed to be on shift and where, today. But, Tom did his best to look boring and unobtrusive till he reached the doctors' locker room. He found one with Dr. Whale's name on it.

Hey, it wasn't like the man didn't owe him.

Not even locked.

As expected, the good doctor kept an extra set of clothes – no doubt for those days when the blood and splatter was a little too much for the scrubs and white coat.

The fit wasn't too bad. Tom was taller but leaner. A little tightening of the belt, and he supposed they passed muster (he didn't need the clothes, not at night when he could keep illusions going, but that hospital gown was drafty). Although he had to check a few other lockers before he found a pair of boots that fit.

He also found a cell phone.

He called Siri (who, probably just to annoy him, had the song Firebolt as her ringtone).

But, it was Silver who picked up.

Silver told him how Siri (who, honestly, had even less common sense than he did) was on her way to help. But, it was all right since she and Mehitabel had Bae.

Poor Bae.

And, Bae really needed to know before he came into the town and found out the hard way.

Tom started to explain to Silver, about who Gold really was.

And Silver, who was usually so sensible, repeated what he said. Only with more exclamation points.

He heard her shout something at Bae.

And, then, the phone went dead.

X

Finding Tom was never hard for Siri.

Sometimes, she used simple, down to earth techniques – like tapping his GPS or bugging his motorcycle.

Not too often, though. In fact, she went out of her way to build up the security on those. After all, you never knew when not being traceable would be a good thing (well, you did, actually. In their case, the answer was "fairly often" or even "nearly always").

Mostly, she just knew where she was likely to find him.

Like right now. She'd last seen him near an exploding car fighting an undead demon.

That made the morgue and the hospital her best bets.

And, if he was in the morgue, it wasn't like she needed to rush to find him (unless he turned into something of the undead and hungry variety. But, in that case, finding him wouldn't be at the top of her problems).

She found him as he was walking out in really badly fitting clothes and looking panicked (he had a small illusion over them, but since when did those fool her?).

She kept her voice low, trusting in those remarkably sharp ears of his.

"Hey."

Tom's head snapped towards her. He headed over.

"So," Siri asked. "What's gone wrong now?"

"Gold is Bae's dad. Bae knows. He heard me talking to Silver on your phone. Which isn't working – might be something magic but, knowing Silver, she probably just broke it. It sounded like Bae ran across the border before Silver could stop him. Oh, and I got mugged by four of the queen's flunkies. She has my blood. I think she means to use it to do magic the way she used Silver's."

". . . . Oh.

"So, uh, I don't suppose you have a plan?"

X

He was looking at his father's murderer.

He didn't know that. He knew he didn't know that. The vision he'd been shown was something he didn't understand except that it was magic – and magic always came with a price, a price it was anxious to make you pay.

But he knew.

Reaching the town, he had tried had lost his way. Such an impossibly thing, it would seem, being lost in this town where light washed the streets despite the night sky above him. Lamps lined the stone walkways, more light poured from every house, even the cars – as if it were not bright enough for them – poured more light into the night.

He hid in the shadows as they went past, hoping not to be seen.

And that was what he had been doing, hiding, when he saw the killer.

With her blood red smile and pale face, she seemed more like some evil ghost or undead ghoul wandering the night, but she was a living woman. He followed her, keeping to the shadows, till she reached a large house.

In his village, the wood in houses was stained or weathered. No one painted it bright colors, like the buildings he'd seen here. The one the killer approached was the same color as the meat of the salmon he'd sometimes caught in the river when they swam up from the sea.

At first, he thought it was her house as, hiding in the shadows, he watched her select a key from a large ring she pulled out of her purse.

But, she looked around before opening it, as though checking for anyone watching her. Then, when she went inside, there was something else – something wrong. It took him a moment to recognize what bothered him.

There was no light coming from the house itself except from a small lamp perched by the door. There'd been no light conjured up inside as she entered. The windows remained dark and lifeless. In this world that was drowning in light – drowning in such thick waves of it that he'd almost given up on Mehitabel's advice to stay hidden from it – this woman chose to remain in darkness.

He scampered up to the door. She'd closed it behind her but she hadn't locked it, opening easily for him when he tried it.

The room it opened on was dark. He thought he could make out thick curtains hanging by the windows and glints off of glass – metal – he couldn't be sure what. But, there was a light towards the back, from another room. Walking as quietly as he could, Tom's dagger tight in his grasp, he went towards it.

Not directly towards it, of course. He stayed out of the column of light that cut across the polished, wooden floor. He smelled onions and the rich smell of meat cooking. A kitchen, then.

Cautiously, pressed against a wall, he peered around the doorway, trying to ignore the feeling that he was wasting time, that the death he had seen was coming closer with each passing second. There was a woman inside. He thought she might be standing by this world's version of a stove. He'd never seen one, of course. In his village, cooking was done over the fire in the hearth, but he'd heard stories of the Duke's palace. This woman stood by a sort of counter. In front of her, a ring of blue flames rose from it beneath a metal pot. She was cutting vegetables and adding them to it.

Her hair fell in a long, loose tumble of maple brown.

The same color as the hair of the dead woman he'd seen in his vision.

The killer came up behind her.

"Hello, Belle."

The maple haired woman whirled, her face pale with fear. The knife she'd been using was gripped tight in her hand.

The killer only smiled at her. "Is Rumplestiltskin at home?" she asked pleasantly.

The blood had drained from the other woman's face. "Regina," she whispered.

"Oh, so you remember me, now, Belle? Being out of the hospital seems to have helped you, after all. If you remember me, then you ought to know that that –" She waved her hand. Something red flicked off her fingers, and the knife went flying out of the maple haired woman's fist. "– is useless against me."

A witch.

Bae had been ready to run at the killer, Regina, and attack her. Now, he hesitated.

He was pretty sure he would only get one chance.

And he had to get it right.

If he didn't, Papa, this woman – Belle – Bae, and who knew who else would be dead before this night was over.

"Do you know what this is?" Regina said, holding up his father's dagger so Belle could see the writing on the blade. "It's a little keepsake of your lover."

Her what?

What had that woman said?

Bae shook his head, trying to clear it. Witches were crazy. Everyone knew that. Papa, even though he still knew what was real and what wasn't, thought like a madman.

Belle's eyes grew large. She might not be . . . what Regina said, but she understood something about the dagger.

"Jones," she whispered.

"What? Oh, yes, this would be the weapon Killian Jones was looking for, the only blade that can kill the Dark One. But it can do more than that, it can control him. Would you like to see?"

"I –"

"On second thought, keep quiet," Regina said. She waved her hand. There was another drop of red.

Of blood, Bae realized.

Belle fell silent, unable to speak.

Regina held up the blade, her smile as a predatory as a hungry shark's when refuse was being thrown into the bay. "Dark One – Rumplestiltskin – I summon thee–"

There wasn't time, Bae realized. No time to think, no time to plan. There was only one thing he could do.

So he did it.

Gripping the ring tight, he remembered what Captain Roberts had told him.

Goblin magic.

He thought of the image he'd seen of his father, the strange clothes and the human face. He willed it to be real.

And, hoping it worked, he stepped into the room.

"Really, dearie," Bae said, trying to imitate his father. "If you'd wanted to talk, you might have just asked."

X

No.

Rumplestiltskin felt the pull of the dagger.

Regina, he thought.

Since Mr. Rosa had landed himself in the hospital, Rumplestiltskin had been looking for her. Finally, he'd gone to the queen's house, tearing off a piece of gauzy curtain from a window near the door.

With a bit of potion put on it, it came to life and began floating away.

"Slow down," Rumplestiltskin ordered it. "Get in your car, your highness. We need to follow it."

But, Regina had played her cards wisely.

Of all the people in Storybrooke, she was the one whose memories in the cursed town had been exactly the same as her memories in the town once it was freed.

She had run for the border.

"Good riddance," the shepherd prince said.

"If only," Rumplestiltskin told him, frowing. "Regina never had a false life, here. She'll be the same person on the other side that she was on this one. Mr. Rosa's blood won't do her any good till sunset. After that, she'll be back.

"You should put a guard on Mr. Rosa," he added. "I don't know how much Regina got, but she'll probably want more."

He'd gone to ready what defenses and spells he thought would be most useful – and, of course, he'd warned Belle. He hadn't told her all of it. He'd seen how she'd shaken in her nightmares last night, held her and tried to calm her as she woke screaming.

Regina was behind all of it.

He hadn't wanted to make it worse. But, he hadn't wanted Belle wandering around where Regina could get her, either.

The house was safe, alive with wards and protective charms, now that magic was back.

Wards cast with the Dark One's magic, ward's that were meaningless to anyone carrying the Dark One's dagger.

The dagger Regina had found.

The dagger that summoned him to his own home.

Where he saw Regina smiling triumphantly as she faced him.

Except . . . it wasn't him she was facing.

He'd learned the day he summoned Zoso the dagger's orders could be twisted. A little.

Maybe even enough.

Zoso had done it by coming when summoned, then standing where he couldn't be seen.

And by mocking Rumplestiltskin's stuttering attempts to command him.

Rumplestiltskin had done the same, appearing behind Regina, doubting such a simple trick would buy him more than a few seconds of time.

He could only hope those seconds might make a difference.

Instead, Regina wasn't even looking for him. Another man, Rumple's twin right down to the clothes he wore, was already there. Belle hadn't seen him either, her eyes fixed on the other man.

"Really, dearie," the man drawled. "If you'd wanted to talk, you might have just asked."

Regina smiled. There had to be snakes somewhere in her family tree, Rumplestiltskin thought. "But, I don't want to talk. I want to give orders and, for once, have you do exactly what you're told. To begin with, Rumplestiltskin, you will stay exactly where you are."

Rumplestiltskin froze. He had been unable to attack her, before. Now, he was unable to even move out of sight if she turned and looked at him.

But, she didn't know to turn and look.

"You tried to kill me, sending that wraith," Regina went on. "I think I deserve a little compensation, don't you?"

"What I think you deserve, dearie, is something we'll all be better off with me not saying. Not in front of the ladies. Pardon me, in front of the lady."

Rumplestiltskin wrapped himself in shadows, trying to keep hidden. But, he couldn't strike against her, not magically, not physically, not while she held the dagger.

And his doppelganger, whoever he was, could see him clearly. The man did nothing Regina could pick up on, but Rumplestiltskin had centuries experience watching for the small tells of his opponents. He could see it in every flickering glance the man carefully didn't direct at him.

His double was still talking to Regina. He dramatically rolled his eyes. "Really, dearie, you've always been an idiot, but don't you think you're going too far? You don't even know how to use that little toy you're holding."

There was doubt in Regina's eyes. Her opponent was good at sounding sure of himself. But, then her eyes widened.

"And you're walking without your cane, Rumple."

X

Bae tried to imitate the way his father too often spoke these days, adding in bits of Siri's snideness and bits of Goblin madness, hoping he was doing it right.

Apparently, he was. The thing the witch focused on had nothing to do with his words.

He rolled his eyes the way Siri had when Tom had criticized her plans. "Because I got tired of walking with it. The same way I'm growing very tired of you, Regina." That had been her name, hadn't it? "Now, why don't you return my property and leave. Immediately. I promise not to use your corpse for fertilizer you if you do. If not, the flowers have been drooping."

"Such generosity. It's so unlike you, Rumple."

"True enough, but your posturing has been the best laugh I've had since coming here. Consider this your reward."

The witch smirked. "I appreciate your attempts to brazen it out, but it won't work. You're going to do what I tell you, starting with killing that woman."

Bae swallowed, risking a glance at the still mute woman who had gone even paler. He wondered if he could stretch the illusion to cover himself and her, making it look as though she were dead. After making it look as though he had killed her.

He wondered how he could even get her to understand she was supposed to lie down and play dead while he 'killed' her . . . .

And he saw his father standing behind Regina, helpless to stop her.

He had seen him freeze when Regina ordered him using his father's name, but she hadn't used it when she told him to kill. So long as she didn't use his father's name, Papa wouldn't have to obey her. But how long before she said it? He had to get the dagger away from her.

But how?

And how quickly could he do it? He felt ice water dripping down his hand. How much longer till the ring and its magic vanished?

An idea came to Bae.

He laughed and stepped towards her.

"It seems you've been misinformed about that little blade's properties, Regina."

The woman's brow furrowed. He'd refused one command – to kill Belle – and broken the other (if it still applied) to stay still. "I hold the dagger. You have to –"

He cut her off quickly. "Oh, no, Regina. I don't have to do anything. I can't attack you, it's true. But, that's all. Let me guess. You found Zoso's notes on the dagger, didn't you?" Had Zoso left notes? Had she even heard of Zoso? Never mind. Keep talking and let her make her own assumptions. "He thought it was . . . useful . . . to let anyone who might get the dagger believe it could enslave the Dark One. But, it can't."

Bae let that sink in, grinning and trying to think what lie to say next. He had one great advantage, here. He wasn't under any curse. He could tell whatever stories he liked about that bloody, cursed dagger.

"All it does is protect you from my magic," he told her. "There's only one way it will let you use that magic, and I don't think you've figured that out, yet, have you?" He came closer to her. Tom's knife was hidden inside the sleeve of the voluminous Red Sox sweatshirt he'd given Bae – or under the silk coat he seemed to be wearing. There were two ways this could turn out. He'd either get close enough to use it before she could cast a spell to stop him, or –

"One way," Regina murmured. "But, you had to come when I called you, didn't you?"

"I came when you broke into my house."

"And you want it back. You'll do anything to get it back."

"Hardly."

"I think the dagger does have powers, Rumple. At least, one. The most important one," she said and lifted it up.

The other woman, Belle, threw the pot of hot onions, oil, and meat at the witch. Regina screamed, waving a hand at the other woman and knocking her into the wall. She crumpled and fell, not getting up.

Bae rushed at the witch, still keeping the knife hidden even while he aimed. Strike up from beneath the breastbone, a returning soldier – one who'd fought men as well as monsters – had told him once. Avoid the bones as you go for the heart.

The man was drunk most of the time, though the village boys had loved his stories. Bae could only hope he'd known what he was talking about.

But, Regina was faster.

Of course, Bae thought as the dagger went in his heart. He knew she was a killer when he saw her. She must have done this plenty of times before.

She struck straight between the ribs. Years of practice must make it easy to avoid the bones.

X

Triumphantly, Regina thrust the dagger into Rumplestiltskin's heart.

So, do you still believe I'll never get the better of you, old man? she thought as she watched him fall.

He looked up at her, his face twisted in a strange, sick smile.

She knew that smile.

It was the one he always had outwitted her again.

When he had won.

Then, the window burst open and a wave of black tentacles rushed towards her.

X

Rumplestiltskin had once told his deranged protégé when she was raging at some lesser hero's unexpected escape from one of her plots, that there was nothing like raw terror for focusing the mind. In that case, the young archer had suddenly realized Regina's pet minotaur did have a vulnerable spot – and where that spot had to be.

In this case, Regina realized the few drops of Mr. Rosa's blood she had left couldn't save her.

She had always been exceptionally good with fire. She had an affinity for it, the element of wanton destruction.

Faced with what must have looked like another wraith – this one in the form of a kraken – attacking her, Regina suddenly found the way to shape at least one spell out of the magic Rumplestiltskin had let loose in this world. The black vines reaching for her went up in flames.

As they faded, Rumplestiltskin caught a glimpse of the true attacker. A young woman – a girl, really – was climbing through the window. She had jet black curls and alabaster skin along with a host of small, budding vines already swarming out of her.

She also looked a great deal like her photo on the Rosa family's company website, which he had read over carefully (along with several, less public reports) back when Mr. Rosa had first come to town.

Unless he was gravely mistaken, this was Mr. Rosa's 'twin,' the shadowborn witch, Sirena Rosa.

There was a sheen of cold sweat over her already pale face and her breathing was ragged. Like Regina's flames, the black vines were a magic she had a natural affinity towards. Unlike Regina, they were part of her. Regina's fire had hurt her. Not as much, Rumplestiltskin thought, as if the flames had reached the girl herself.

But, bad enough.

The smart thing would be to retreat, to throw up a shadow wall of the things and escape back into the darkness, breaking street lamps along her way.

Apparently, despite the impressive list of degrees and accomplishments the website had listed, Miss Rosa was as incapable of intelligent action as her brother. She took a deep breath and sent black vines shooting back at Regina, who only smiled and began to conjure flame –

Dark One . . . .

The voice was a whisper, too faint to be heard except through the magic that bound Rumplestiltskin to the dagger.

Rumplestiltskin . . . .

Rumplestiltskin looked at the man lying crumpled on his kitchen floor, his blood spreading across the tiles towards Belle who still lay unconscious (Please, Rumplestiltskin thought, let her only be unconscious). He saw the man's lips moving, bloody hands locked around the dagger's hilt.

I summon thee . . . .

Rumplestiltskin found himself free to move – forced to move.

He approached this new master, waiting for his command. To heal him, most likely. He tried to think how he could twist whatever words he might say to free himself.

The dying man looked him in the eye.

Take . . . back . . . what is yours . . . .

Rumplestiltskin, forced to obey, reached for the knife, pulling it out.

The dying man smiled. Then, his eyes slid closed.

For a moment, the illusion around him held.

Then, it vanished. Rumplestiltskin saw his son, Bae.