Chapter 11

The trial was good for business, Granny pondered. People were just walking in in the morning for coffee and snacks to have during the day's entertainment, stopping by for a sit down dinner or popping in for a take away bag at the end of the day and, as the occasion would have it now, a lunch break that was extending as Snow and James were still trying to cope with the result of the morning's affairs.

This was turning out to be quite the public laundry exercise. She couldn't say that she much cared for that though. She would rather respect people even if they did not fully deserve it than to have cause to fully dislike them. Because she got mean when she disliked someone. And such was the case with Geppetto whom she had liked well enough both as Marco and Geppetto, a sweet old man as devoted to his son as she was to her granddaughter.

But she could not quite forgive him. She could have sent Red… well, Ruby, as she preferred it, if she'd had the opportunity like he did. Any parent would. So he had not just stolen a better life from Emma, he had also stolen everybody else's chance at doing the same. Ruby would have certainly taken better care of Emma than a seven year old boy that had jumped ship- understandably- at the very first hurdle. Good boy indeed…

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Ruby put her badge in her pocket and hands to the task of serving lunch to the crowd in the diner. It was out of habit, she supposed, but then again, habit was a safety blanket in this conundrum. Like Granny opening the diner just 10 minutes earlier than she needed just to sneak a cup of coffee or Leroy carrying around a hip flask of hard stuff that he was no longer drinking.

Dr Hopper sat quite morosely at the counter and Leroy made for an equally silent lunch guest. They both seemed to be chewing down something particularly unpalatable. Ruby approached Leroy and did a quick pat on his shoulder that, for once, he did not turn into a leer.

"Something bugging you, handsome?" She moved onwards with coffees and sodas. He waited for her return to speak, which was nice of him, not nearly as obnoxious as he normally was.

"Been called to testify."

"Have you now?" Ruby picked up one more tray of orders from the cook's window. "And you what? Don't wanna go?"

"I don't like being on display."

"Afraid everyone's gonna notice the size of waist line?" He stirred his coffee until she returned to drop the tray with a sign to Granny for the check.

"I don't have a problem with being here. Why should I go and bitch about it?"

"Do we really have to go if we don't want to?" Granny joined from the serving side of the counter.

"I saw it on TV once." Dr Hopper leaned over the counter, joining in on the conversation. "Did some googling too."

"And?" Leroy, always impatient.

"The judge arrested the witness for contempt."

"Ah, come on. This is Snow. She'd sooner club you on the upside of the head with something handy."

"Quite. But she is invested in the outcome of this trial." Dr Hopper pondered.

Ruby propped her hip against the counter, all long lines and fluid movement. "Tell me that you're using the term loosely."

"I'm sure they're all doing the best they can, Miss Lucas." Dr Hopper got nervous every time he had to confront someone. Specially if that someone was Ruby, always hanging on his every word as if they were worth anything.

"Maybe. I got the call too." She confessed.

"Me too." Granny and Dr Hopper spoke simultaneously.

"Me too." Dr Whale approached the group and spoke quietly as it seemed to be his manner these days. It seemed like he was done climbing up female legs. Ruby gave him a look that was a particular brand of I know what you did last summer but kept quiet. Granny slid a cup of coffee to him because she too knew all too well when someone was hiding something.

"Well, I for one, am not going."

"How do you figure, Ruby?" Leroy was doing a god job of mincing the sugar packaging he had not used in his coffee.

"I don't like Regina Mills. She's all attitude and holier than thou, but I like King George far less. And if we're gonna point fingers, I'm pointing mine straight at him. Or are we forgetting that he was gonna kill Snow and James if he'd had a chance? How is he so different from the Mayor?"

"Hate to point the obvious, because I think he has issues himself, but he did not curse a whole kingdom. That might give him some moral high ground."

"No, Dr Hopper, he didn't. But that's just 'cause he doesn't think big enough, if you ask me."

"Hum, lacked means and opportunity. Agreed, Ruby." Dr Whale spoke into his cup.

"I'm better here. I don't have a problem with being cursed to be in Storybrooke. I had 28 years without full moons. And I can't say that I miss them either."

"Here, here, Ruby." Dr Whale saluted from his seat, eyes still on the bottom of his cup. "I prefer it here. It's not like we have to live a script, pre determined roles and heartbreaks. There is actually a semblance of free will." Most of the last few words were mumbled, but Ruby had uncanny hearing. She tapped his hand sympathetically.

"And I'm pretty sure we are not alone in the sentiment."

"Yeah. Where do we sign up for the support group?" Leroy stood abruptly fishing his pockets for change.

"Leroy?"

"Later, Ruby." And he walked off, his stride angry.

"Was it something that I said?" Ruby commented when the door closed behind Leroy with a happy jingle.

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Henry sat for lunch with Snow thinking that this grandparents concept was a grand one. He got to have the kind of indulgence his mom rarely- if ever- allowed. He was sitting with fries and soda for lunch and if he played his hand carefully, a chocolate bar was in the cards too. And yet, he missed his mom. Emma was another story. She seemed to be absent from his life more now than ever before. Always with his mom. It was a form of personal betrayal, in a way. Though he was a little bit thankful that his mom was not alone. Just a tiny little bit, though, and only at times. He knew about being alone and he could not say that he liked it all that much. Even if she did deserve punishment.

Snow was staring down the fries in her plate and James hadn't even attempted to eat anything. Henry supposed he could understand why, though he had never in his wildest dreams imagined that Geppetto would do something like that. It was not in the book and, besides, he was one of the good guys. He could not understand that. When the phone rang, Snow spoke in clipped tones. Something about a girl asking for Mr. Gold, coming from the Enchanted Forest brand spanking new. And about the Hatter being all happy happy about himself. Henry didn't quite like Jefferson. Even though he was Paige' true dad, just like Emma was his true mother.

This was something about his mom. He knew it for sure. He missed his book. He missed the sense of security about having answers – clear answers- from it, though it was more a habit than a true need, simply because he knew it by heart. He had a fairly good idea who the mysterious girl might be, that Jefferson was, very likely, connected to her arrival in Storybrooke and how that might end up being really bad for his mom. Somehow, it did not sit quite right with him to have his mom defeated by Jefferson. Or Gold. He was even worse than her and it was not a fair fight was it? He finished his fries and passed on the chocolate bar.

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Hate crackled in the air around Rumplestilskin like a storm cloud. It served as a swift reminder to those in the room not only of his power, but of the deals done, of consequences met out, of things lost. It served, that storm cloud, as a reminder of the power and the force to be reckoned with.

In one of the few snarky thoughts left in her these days of carrying a heart in her chest, Regina was slightly disappointed he had not chosen to appear in his Enchanted Forest garb. Never mind that he was her mortal enemy, the one that had tricked and screwed with her the most in her life (safe perhaps for her mother, she was not keeping tabs). But he was perhaps the only one she could see coming at her. All others preferred coward stabs in the back. She could appreciate a full frontal enemy.

It did not take her a whole of one second to understand why he was there. It wasn't like him to play someone else's game, let alone someone clearly inferior to him such as the former king George, so she had to admit that her final safety valve had been breached and that Belle had been returned to him. She had only seen that particular brand of craze once and that had been when she announced to him – admittedly in one very good move on her part- that Belle was dead.

At the time she'd had magic on her side.

Now was a whole different ball game.

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Henry had always wanted to get into Mr. Gold's shop and have a good look around. He believed- and he had believed for some time now- that Mr. Gold collected objects that belonged to other people because they gave him power over them. He believed he could recognize certain objects and he wondered how he had come to bring them from the other world. No one else had bought anything. Well, his mom might have. That crypt in the cemetery certainly had the same allure as Gold's shop as far as secret possessions went. He wanted to open his book and use it to navigate the shop. Certainly, he was willing to bet, the unicorn mobile had belonged to Emma's nursery. The only question was, what power could those objects hold. For a moment, he almost lost sight of the task at hand. But then he heard noise from the upstairs and that steeled his resolve. Grabbing hold of the straps of his backpack, he moved towards the back of the shop where he hoped he would find access to the upper floor.

It wasn't difficult to find. He was bracing himself to find a hidden door or something like that, but in the end it was a very run of the mill staircase. Which was kind of deflating.

"Hello?" A girl- for sure, the girl Granny mentioned, because, let's face it, who else would have the guts to get into Gold's place and hope to get out of it alive- peered at him with frightened eyes. He measured her when she stepped out from behind a door. "Hi. I'm Henry. We need to talk."

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The only concession Rumplestilskin made to the "court appearance" as the term very loosely applied, was to leave the cane at home. He needed no magic for this now. In fact, it was probably best if he didn't have any at his disposal (well, safe for the one that came naturally to him in his land- which was not to be underestimated) because he might just lose the tenuous grasp he had on himself and just blast that cockroach of a queen (again he applied the term loosely) and be done with it.

But as far as effects go, his walking into the crowded room when that other cockroach George called out for Mr. Gold, was already a superlative one- all those little minds, with little bug eyes and greedy little hands shrinking in their seats. And he had missed it so very much he nearly cackled in glee. Until the task at hand was brought back swiftly at the feel of the queen in the room. The queen and little Emma. Unlikely bond between them. One that he would enjoy severing with them both watching. He would come down to it presently. No need for magic. Words would do quite nicely. But first things first.

A show of public humiliation first and foremost. And if he had ever been tempted by self examination and self load- which he wasn't, not now, nor ever- one that would resonate a lot like his former self swearing fealty by kissing a boot in public.

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Belle was funny. She didn't know anything about the things inside a house. OK, she knew what tea cups were and stuff like that- the basics, Henry supposed, but nothing about TVs or computers or washer dryers. Or even the stove. She couldn't make herself a cup of tea and she needed one.

So Henry made her some tea, for which she was grateful. And then some toast, because she was hungry and Gold had not even thought of explaining how things worked for someone who had, pretty much, just been dropped from the past into this.

And when he went about explaining the favor, she looked at him with sad eyes and touched his hand.

"OK" He was surprised because he didn't think that a cup of tea or toast with jam could sway someone's loyalties, but there you had it, Belle had agreed.

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"Rumplestilskin!" the Prosecutor greeted him. It wasn't a greeting though. It was a reminder to the room of who the seemingly affable man in the witness stand was, in a tone that wanted to say at my mercy but that no one heeded. The Prosecutor defined his power by proxy at that moment. "Or should I call you Mr. Gold?"

"In this case, the name matters not."

"No, of course not. Rumplestilskin, then. How did you come to know the Evil Queen?"

"Oh, a deal here, a deal there. Whenever she needed… assistance, shall we say, I provided it. Whatever, whenever."

"For a price, no doubt."

"Oh yes, deary." This was Rumplestilskin. From the tone of voice to the mannerisms of the hands. Everything was coiled threat. "All magic comes at a price."

"So the type of assistance you provided was… magical."
"Is there any other kind?" He said with a smile.

"So what kind of price are we talking about here?"
"Oh… a nice little chunk of her soul here, a smaller one there… Why, I remember one particular spell I provided her with… that was a pretty little morsel of soul."

"Over the years, Rumplestilskin… how many deals are we talking about?"

"Oh, many, many!"

"How much of her soul is there left, then?"

"Oh, well, not much, to be sure."

"And what is the effect of the absence of a soul?"

"Well, I wouldn't know, George." That ruffled George's feathers. Everything was going so well. The Prosecutor had felt like he was establishing a leading role in the interrogation, establishing power, as it were. And with one word, the ugly imp had to ruin everything. "Never you mind, deary. I'll tell you, though. If something doesn't have a soul, it becomes dangerous, unattached. Capable of anything." He assessed the power of his words. The tone of his voice held the audience captive, much like a horror film. "It will turn on those that love it. Kill. Use. Abuse. And for my money, I'd say the queen not only is preparing to do just that, but has done all of the above already. Do you know who she killed to enact the curse? Why, her very own father!"

He did not bother disguising the aim of his words. And if he was any judge- and he damned well was- He had hit home at least with one of his marks. Regina had deflated and seemed… rattled. He could hear her newly returned heart breaking all the way from where he stood. It was a beautiful sound. There was a rumble of murmur in the room. "And it seems to me she has the next sacrificial lamb all lined up and ready." He looked pointedly at Emma because he did not trust her to get his meaning without a little insistence.

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Maybe it was true. She had always felt like there was something terribly wrong with doing business with Rumplestilskin. Her father had paid the price for that lack in judgement. So yes, she believed him. She had surrendered bits of her soul, one spell, one curse at a time. And none of them as big a piece as when she pushed her hand into her father's chest and scarified his feeble heart to enact the curse. She didn't know Rumplestilskin to lie. Not directly. No, he usually minced his words quite finely, but he did not outright lie. It was true then, there was no soul left in her. That was probably why Rumplestilskin wanted no more deals with her. She was out of currency.

She mired Emma sitting by her side. The resemblance to Henry so vivid. She clutched her hands in her lap, avoiding that steadying contact with Emma's skin. Yes, Rumplestilskin was right. She was dangerous. The ones she loved the most were not taken from her. She killed them herself.

She was toxic.

The murmurs in the crowd behind her were confirmation enough of Rumplestilskin's words.

Maybe she had enough soul left to save Emma from her own misguided kindness.

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"You are not without loss yourself, though, are you, Rumplestilskin? Something precious was taken from you. Was it not?"

"Someone." Rumplestilskin's tone sobered. His expression closed off all the old mannerisms and left behind Gold's serious face.

"Forgive me, Rumplestilskin, but someone? You?" It was a well rehearsed maneuver. Emma could see right through it. If equaling Regina to him fell on deaf ears, certainly equaling Rumplestilskin to all the others that had already been to the witness stand certainly would garner antipathy for Regina and, she could see it coming a mile down the road, sympathy for the devil. Which was a win win situation for them.

She looked at the book. She had time. George had the stage and he was milking it for that it was worth. But answers, if there were any, the book was holding on to them.

"Yes. I know, I know. Me. Someone. But I wasn't always like… this. I loved once. Was loved too." Well, cue in the freaking violins, Emma thought bitterly. She would eat her jacket if this was the pure unadulterated truth. And Regina was pulling away from her. She could feel the distance growing even if she was standing right there. No matter how much Emma reached out, Regina found one more level to withdraw. It was making her nervous and losing her concentration.

"Would you perhaps elaborate?" Ah the sympathy card.

"She was… she…"

"Rumplestilskin, do you need a minute." Snow recoiled, the echo of her words to Geppetto deafening.

"What happened to her, Rumplestilskin?"

"She died."

Now that was a lie. She was not sure how or why, but that was a lie. She needed Regina in that room. She needed to "confer" with her, but Regina was long gone from herself. Emma carved her nails into her palms, eight perfect crescents of anger and hopelessness.

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This was not the way he wanted to come back into the court room. Not this anyway. It shamed him, hurt his heart, because he was one of the good guys and yet here he was, fighting fire with fire. Using someone who had already been used to stoke trouble. Emma would not like this. She thought that good had to win the good way. Not with underhanded schemes. And his mom was not one of the good ones, she did not deserve to win anything and this was an underhanded scheme and he was very disappointed in himself, but Rumplestilskin was the worst of two evils. Did that count for anything?

He wanted to stay behind and let events unfold from now on. But Belle wouldn't let go of his hand, as if she could not walk on her own.

They stood against a wall closer to the stand, tucked behind a burly man in rolled up sleeves and a scent of fear.

"That sounds most tragic."

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Rumplestilskin regarded the Prosecutor from his colder Gold eyes. "If that is the going synonym for manipulation and lies and underhanded I'm sure you're right, deary. From where I sit, I call it murder."

The Prosecutor approached Rumplestilskin's chair then, all moral high ground but, funnily, he dared not touch him. No, sympathy, it seemed, did not get you past revulsion and fear. "Tell us what happened. Spare no detail."

Regina was in a bubble of her own and if it had looked remotely like a happy place, Emma would have allowed it. "Regina, snap out of it, dam it. These fuckers are pissing about with your life and you're letting them."

"Belle" Rumplestilskin said the name and it was like a prayer that even Emma wanted to pray. It was sibilated and whispered and it had a magic of its own.

"Regina!" And it was as if she could smell the grief and the fear on the woman's skin, rolling off of her like the mist does from the ocean when it brings with it the smell of the dead that roll in the waves and the fog that blinds.

"She loved me. And then that woman churned her mind and set her against me and…" He took a few deep breaths and visibly got himself under control. It was a curious mix of little lies and little truths and knowing that simply did not help Emma separate the wheat from the chaff and ok, maybe she got a little bit anxious, and nervous and afraid, but she took Regina's shoulder and pulled her to her and merely stopped short of one of these satisfying slaps you see in the films that make time look like an elastic band stretching to the limit that then snapping and setting the catharsis in motion and everybody lives happily ever after. She stopped just that little short of it. But she grabbed the woman, nonetheless, and she shook her and, probably, left marks too. "Listen to him. HELP. ME." She mouthed the too final words. And it was then she understood how inside out Regina really was. Even if she could not really understand, in the huge scope of things, where that was coming from, because so much worse had already been said. "Did you kill his Belle?"

And there were so many levels of wrong to that question and not for the first time she wondered if there was ever going to be a time where it was going to be easy to feel this… whatever it was for Regina without feeling a little bit of self loathing and disgust.

"She did not." A voice behind her replied softly at the same time Regina's mouth seemed to try to work for the first time since she had sat on that chair.

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Emma turned honestly surprised because who on earth would defend Regina in this town. She saw a mousy woman with the strangest of clothes and a quiet demeanor. Regina shrunk into her clothes further but her eyes rose to the woman. "You came."

"He brought me." She pointed at Henry next to her.

There was silence that was thick and suffocating and the whole room breathed it. Heads turned and eyebrows rose in question, but there was not a single sound.

"Your Majesty! I must object!" The Prosecutor seethed, the color running high on his face and bald spot. Snow was confused too. One more face she did not recognize and that unsettled her.

"Sure! But to what?"

"There must such a thing as due process!"

"I'm sure there is, but we are well past it!" It felt like talking back to the Prosecutor. It felt good, too. "Besides, didn't you say that we all deserved to be heard?" Snow secretly preened at the small snickering laughs that she could make out in the crowd.

"Rumplestilskin" It was little more than a whisper, the same prayer that her name had been in Gold's mouth all but for the tinge of sadness in it. It carried through the room and pervaded muscles and bones and minds of those sitting there, making them understand they were sitting in on a very private moment between the disheveled woman and Rumplestilskin. "You know better."

"Your Majesty!" The Prosecutor objected with a whine, but it went unheeded, the crackling of energy between Rumplestilskin and Belle sucking all the attention in the room, a black hole sucking all the light.

"Ah, Belle." Emma had heard that tone before, and it was sadness and disappointment. She knew all the breadth and width of it and it meant something along the lines of let me avenge you. "My wee Belle."

Beside Emma, Regina was busy breaking down, breaking to pieces, breaking apart. Tears fell easy, copious. Stay away from me Emma. Stay away. She shirked from Emma's touch, feeling like the incarnation of poison ivy. She did not want to touch or be touched because all she did was poison and hurt.

"Look how she cries now, Belle. There it is, her guilt. See how she admits it."

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Belle touched Regina's arm. There was no flinching. It seemed to Emma then, that all the flinching was reserved for her touch. "She locked me in that asylum. You locked me out of your life. Where are your tears, Rumplestilskin?" The voice was soft but it carried through the room. "Did she tell you I was dead?" The answer was just a nod. "Did she lie?" He raised his hand to her, as if he did not want to point the obvious. "I was dead to you. When I wanted nothing more than to kiss you, to kiss you better, you locked me a dungeon. Not much different from the one she chose. And then you sent me way. I was dead to you."

"Belle…"

"She told me true love can cure any curse. She was not wrong, was she?"

"She shouldn't have."

"Truth is, you didn't want to give it up, did you?"

"I needed it. I needed it to find my Bae. I need it still"

"Is she to blame for that too?" There was honest concern in the voice then, not that logic that needs to be conducted. A moment of doubt in the logic, it seemed.

"She knows of him. She knows where he is. She knows where he is and she will not tell me. Just as she did not tell me where you were, that you lived. She wants to live among ghosts so that I may become one too."

It was all too much. Rumplestilskin fraying at the seams, Regina crushed. This was not how people lost their minds. There had to be a semblance of civility to it. A process. An afternoon in court could not, should not, do this. There was some sort of hole in the narrative. And she wanted to shake, shake, shake Regina because this was not the woman she had come to know, this was a strange rag and she couldn't cope with it and she just needed to know if Regina knew where Bae, whoever he may be, was because she was just about overwhelmed. "Do you have him." No answer. "Regina, do you have him?" and before she knew it, she was really shaking Regina because she had lost that final grip on her temper.

"No" the voice was weak and shaken but for once Regina was looking at her and then Belle was there and she had her hand on Emma and Henry too, scared like a rabbit but there. "No. "

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And for a moment there was silence.

Rumplestilskin regarded Regina, waiting, waiting for something. An admission of guilt, an answer to what he was looking for. He could hear her, he could hear her denial but he could not, would not believe her.

He tried not to fly off the handle. That was Rumplestilskin and he had 28 years of practice at being Gold. For a moment there was silence. And then he was Rumplestilskin again.

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The scream came then, piercing and moving, that much louder for all the silence surrounding it, unexpected from the composed Mr. Gold or Rumplestilskin, she was not sure because she was at the end of her tether, but only until she saw the direction of his hands, clawing in the air towards Regina, grabbing at air as if it could pull him to her faster, faster, faster and the intent was clear. He had death in his green serpent-like eyes.

"She lies!"

Emma stood and the Prosecutor looked with undisguised glee and she moved to shield Regina, but only a fraction too late, even though they were sitting side by side. Rumplestilskin's hands connected with Regina's neck and she could see it as clearly as if it had been happening in slow motion, his fingers closing like claws around the column of Regina's neck, and she was still a fraction to slow, because he was still too fast or she was just moving in molasses and her legs just did not obey.

Rumplestilskin's free hand was palm up against her, holding her suspended in time that was moving a just a little slower than the rest of the room. The scream in her head was slower, the breathing just as slow and only her heart beat as fast, knowing what was going to happen, what was going to be ripped from her. And it did not matter what a monster Regina was or had been.

His hands closed and Regina closed her eyes and it was like surrender. Emma saw it, that fraction of a second she was just too late to stop Rumplestilskin, that she was too late because he was fast and was holding her with magic but also because Regina surrendered. In that fraction of a second too late, she understood Regina's breakage: she was upside down of herself, surrendered to the horror of what she was. Or had been. Had been. HAD. BEEN.

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10 going on 11 is not a long time to live, not enough to have the kind of memories that you think, oh now I've seen everything. Not by any stretch of the imagination. But to Henry it seemed that way. His mom was broken in a way that even he knew was real and Mr. Gold was bawling for a son no one even knew he had and then he was flying at his mom's throat and Henry thought only NO because there was no time for any further thoughts. Just a No that he could not qualify. Rumplestilskin's hands closed around his mother's neck and Emma was too late and his mom was going to die. He would see the evil queen vanquished and it was nothing like he had imagined and nothing that he could want or desire or even rejoice in.

And then Rumplestilskin was pushed back as if there had been an invisible shield around his mom, a shield that pushed Rumplestilskin backwards like the coyote in the cartoons he used to watch when he was seven and was sick with the mumps and his mom would have done anything to see him smile.

"No!" Gold screeched and though he tried again and again, he could no more close his fist around Regina's neck than Emma could reach her to save her. His magic held Emma back and someone else's magic held him. He couldn't reach her anymore that he could touch a cloud. "No! Give me back my Bae! Give him back to me."

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He couldn't. It was like running uphill, he had Emma in the grasp of his magic, and his fingers around the queen's neck but he could not close them, he could not seal the deal. He wanted her dead with every fiber of his blackened heart but that was not enough to have her so. And it had always been that way before. And then he felt it, that smell of magic. And he was pushed back and he was forever falling backwards and she was still, alive and Emma was almost free of him and inching towards the queen and the only thing he could do was keep the queen in that choke hold that would not let go. The one he knew would crush her from the inside: he raised her up in the air, arms tight at her side, chest constricted.

He expected to see her eyes go wild, he expected her to cough up Bae's whereabouts in two seconds flat. He knew a desperate soul when he saw one.

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She wanted to give up. She wanted to give her finger for the viper to bite, but there was just something that made her body fight for air. Something that made her promise to be good even if she had promised herself never again. Something that wanted to survive. Something that made her look at Emma and wish with all her heart to be saved.

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It was not nearly enough. Not enough to have her promising to be good, not enough to see the fear in her eyes. Not enough to see her back where he knew she came from, such a tidy little job Cora had done of this queen. No, not nearly enough. Even with Belle touching his shoulder, it was not nearly enough. It never was. "Where is he?" As the seconds ticked by, he gained in composure, in strength. As the seconds ticked by, his fingers steadied and he applied more and more pressure, more concentrated, more to the point where she could not breathe but was not yet dead. He needed her alive to tell him about Bae. He was so sure she knew that it gave him finesse to keep her on the brink, to keep pretty little Emma back, quite incapable of closing the distance, thinking that she needed just one more inch, just one stretch of the muscle, just a little more strength. He was back in control, at his most dangerous.

There, that will do it, he thought. That will do it. "Where is he?"

She sniveled once more I'll be good instead of an answer. And Belle was there, her hand still on his shoulder, as she if she was some sort of monster whisperer, trying and trying to control him and his righteous anger and he snapped. He just snapped. He tightened the squeeze on the queen and if could not get what he needed from her, he would just squeeze until her eyes popped out of her head and at least he would have the satisfaction of squashing her like the cockroach that she was.

His hand squeezed violently as good as if it had been around her neck and Regina's head slumped to her chest.

Everything after that was just a blur: Emma breaking through the magic hold he had, that scent of new magic, of powerful magic pervading the air. Belle shaking him, as if she was trying to make a dog let go of a bone (and god help him, he really wanted to turn around and bite like a rabid one just to keep it), and always that sent of magic, just too strong, just too intoxicating and then the wave of magic, a breeze only, but enough, knocking him backwards and the queen falling from where he had held her into the Sheriff's arms. And knowing that this magic, this was something brand new, so very powerful.

He hated them. He hated them both even as that magic lulled him into a restful sleep.

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NO! No, no, no! That could not be possible. Emma Swan had no magic. And the queen had the leash on her, she could not do magic. Who else could beat Rumplestilskin? Not this true love nonsense again! She could just scream!

The anger was so difficult to contain. The anger wanted to boil over and take control. This should not- could not- be happening. Absolutely not.

She had to leave. She had to walk out of that room because even if the queen looked dead in the Sheriff's arms, even if Rumplestilskin was knocked flat on his back, this was not what she had in mind.

No, this was not it at all.

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"It is not the easiest thing I have done, to love a monster." Emma regarded Belle. The room had simmered down to a slow boil, voices were hushed and feet rustled. "It gets lonely." She said while she looped her arm around Gold's suddenly fragile one. Her hands smoothed the sleeve of his grey suit and Emma could see it then, her own hands smoothing down Regina's back, a very similar gesture. She was not looking for a kindred spirit. But it felt good to know that someone else understood.

And it did. It got lonely. As they were loaded into the bus, as Regina once again retreated into her silence, it did get lonely. There were no books about how to do this, how to see the best, the worst, the ugly and the beautiful in the same person and still want to be there. No cautionary tales. All the novels, all the stories, all the fairy tales were about deserving love and being worthy of love.

Had anyone ever told a fairy tale about those that do not? About those who love the ones that do not?

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Regina asked Emma to be alone that night. She felt the poison run in her veins, perspiring in her skin, exuding from her clothes like a scent, dropping from her eyes like tears. She was monster, she was no good and there was no atonement for her. Only how much more damage she could still cause. How much she could still hurt. Hurt Emma, Henry. Hurt anyone that might show her kindness, a little weak spot, because it was her genetic makeup. An apple never falls far from the tree. It took all she had to be this Regina, this one that Emma pulled into her arms and cuddled and soothed, the Regina expected the best of instead of the worst. It took every ounce of her energy to accept judgment. Because every cell in her body wanted to rebel and just say screw you and be what she was born to be: evil, rotten to the core that she was. Rumplestilskin's words had only driven the point painfully home: she was deceiving herself, thinking that she might be anything but what she had always been, excuses and reasons or not. And it was only a matter of time until the toxicity that ran inside her leaked and poisoned everyone around her. Only a matter of time. Rumplestilskin was right. She was a monster. You can fool yourself for a while. You can fool others for a lot longer, but not everybody and not forever.

Her time was up.

"Please go, Miss Swan."

"But I…" The bars closed behind Regina, the Blue Fairy pacified by the separation. "I need you."

"Go home to your son, Miss Swan. This flight of fancy has lasted long enough. Go home, be a mother." And the conversation ended when Regina sought refuge in the darkest section of the stone dungeon. The gods had thrown the dice, she had been cast for the role and the only thing was living up to it. And retire gracefully. Nothing now can ever come to any good.