Author's note: Thank you to Marie, wonderful beta.

Chapter 15

It made no sense at all. His castle had been knocked down by his mother. The thing he loved- almost the thing he loved the most (save, of course, for Emma) - had been destroyed by his mother. His Evil Queen mother. So this made no sense at all: his castle stood tall, more beautiful than it had ever been, shiny and smooth, no broken bits, no splinters of wood standing out, no crooked boards from weathering the salty air from the ocean.

So, naturally, because it made no sense, Henry walked towards it to explore it, to see for himself. It looked even better this close up. He could see the wood, polished and smooth, beautiful. "Henry!" A child's voice called. He looked around but couldn't find the source of the voice.

"Hello?"

"Henry!" The voice called again. So he looked again.

"Hey! Where are you?"

"Henry!" This time, when the voice called him, it was coming from the other side of the structure. Henry quickened his step and walked around but found no one. This could be really bad. In movies, this was always the moment the monster posing as a child or a baby showed its true self and shredded you to bits. "Henry?"

"Hey! Where are you?" This time the answer was a giggle. And another as he moved, trying to find the source. And another giggle from yet another direction. He ran, this time. "Come out, come out wherever you are."

One more giggle. It was a beautiful sound, like crystal breaking and Henry ran around and around the structure picking up the little pieces of that crystal laughter. And then he stopped because she was there, sitting right at the top, legs crossed Buda like, smiling. "I caught you!" And he was answered by yet another giggle. The face that turned to him was a carbon copy of Emma's, blond, so sunnily blond, fair skin, angular features much like his own. But the eyes, they were his mother's, dark as coal, deep as the secrets she kept. And just as warm. "Hi! I'm Henry."

"I know, silly!"
"How?"

The little miniature of Emma gave him a look that was all Regina. "Because you're my brother! Don't tell me you forgot."

"No..."

"You're supposed to protect me. Did you forget?"

"No. I just…"
"It's alright, Henry. It's okay. I'm okay." And she leaned against his shoulder, a little head so blond it was blinding in the sunlight. "Are you worried about mommy?"

"She's evil."

"What does that mean?"

"It means she did bad things." The child was silent for a while, biting her bottom lip. "She destroyed my castle."

"She built up again for you." And she looked around the new castle to prove a point.

"It's not the same."

"Of course not, but it's wonderful just the same."

"I guess."

"She only wanted to protect you."

"Jiminy said so too."

"Are you going to protect her too? Even if she's evil?"

"What would you do?" And Henry was genuinely curious. He knew what Emma would say. What Emma was doing. But he was a funny mixture of Emma and his mom and forgiveness did not come easy to him.

"I'll protect her. Even if she's evil. And you. And Memma."

"Who's Memma?"

"My Emma, silly! Memma."

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

Henry was the first to wake up. He was not used to bad mattresses. He was not used to Emma's light snore and he was not used to feet shuffling on dirt floors. The walls of the cave made everything reverberate. He took a moment to study the cell, the bars. He crawled to the closing mechanism. It seemed very organic to the cave itself, as if the bars were as much part of the cave as the rock walls.

He wanted to discuss strategy. He wanted Emma and his mom to wake up and talk to him, explain what on earth could be said in the Evil Queen's defence in the three days' worth of fairy dust they had left. But then again, it was probably unkind to tell his mom that.

Carefully, he stood. Emma was sleeping deeply, the big spoon, around his mom, the little one. They barely fit in that cot. It had to be uncomfortable. He had sat there the night before and it was terrible: hard and lumpy. But there they were, the two of them, easy expressions on their usually tortured faces. His mom had a small smile on her face. Maybe it was the hand draped across her middle, splayed over her front that gave her the certainty that she would not roll to the floor.

Emma protected his mom even in her sleep.

It was kind of sweet. And it was kind of gross, too, them being this… well, intimate with him there. He was not stupid. He knew what grown-ups do when they're in love- more than he was looking at, that was sure, but there's a difference between knowing and having evidence. As if that kiss with everyone in Storybrooke watching was not enough. His mind went to his dream again. Maybe they should not say anything about the shortage of fairy dust to his mom. Maybe it would not be good for her. Maybe he needed to protect her from that knowledge too. She could use this peace for a little while longer.

He went back to the mattress Charming had brought the night before and sat against the rock wall. He missed his book. He missed the old familiar pattern of looking up in the book the answers that Storybrooke and life failed to provide. He missed having clear answers to every question he could fathom.

He crossed his arms over his chest. He did not know very well what to do with the Evil Queen. She had existed and was as real as his mom. She had separated parents from their children, lied, killed and cursed a whole world. But she had done so when she had been in more pain than he could ever imagine. If he looked carefully, there had never been a time when he had felt that lonely. No even when he hadn't had a single friend in the whole world. And even that was not really true, because he'd had Snow even when she was only Miss Blanchard and he'd had Archie and even his mom.

He looked at her again, trying to see on the lines in her face what she had done, what she had gone through. There were no lines- only tiny little ones around her eyes that showed with that small smile she had now, asleep in Emma's arms. He wished she'd had an Archie or a Miss Blanchard. Had she ever had someone be kind to her before Emma?

He could not comprehend such a very long time of being alone and sad.

Maybe she should be punished for the things she had done. How could she not be? He just hoped that it did not mean that she would have to go through it alone. He'd protect her from that. Him and Emma, they would protect her. Evil or not.

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

The Prosecutor turned in his pristine Egyptian cotton sheets, unable to sleep. But it was more than that, really. Lack of sleep he could deal with. He could undertake a task. He could go through his notes and elaborate on the closing summations. He had done so over and over again. It gave him a sense of… accomplishment. This was his purpose in life. Having lost all that he held dear, he clung to his purpose as Prosecutor.

But he was past the rational time and it bothered him. He was a level headed man, calm, collected, fierce in his purpose. And all he could feel now was a restlessness that had nothing to do with the trial. He felt off. He felt off and he could not define why or in what way and that… feeling increased the more he tried to concentrate on the task at hand- which was, as the clock dictated, to sleep.

He broke into a sweat and the sheets rebelled against him, tangling around his legs. He was not ready to give up on sleep. Sleeping was a task to be undertaken as any another: with success. He stood and marched to the bathroom, showered and changed night clothes, returned to bed.

Cursed woman. Women. The former queen, the current one and her whelp. Surrender power to women and instead of decisive action, all you get for your trouble is feelings and excuses and tears and weakness.

He would see this mockery of a trial through because he was going to win. He had prepared for victory and it was not like a throng of wronged peasants would ever let it slide. A mob is a beautiful thing and can always be stirred. But to satisfy his hunger, only the witch queen's head one hundred feet away from the rest of her body would do. Insolent, impudent woman.

He closed his eyes finally at peace. He understood now the nature of his restlessness. It did not matter how the trial ended because it was not going to be the end of it. Decisive action was needed and he would see to it no matter the end result passed by all the bleeding heart liberals that populated the cesspool that was Storybrooke. He would remind them of the old ways.

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

"Come back to bed." Charming called out, his voice, gruff with sleep, carrying like a caress.

Snow dropped the curtain she was pinching between her fingers, closing the room to the light of the moon and the mercury yellow of the street lamps. "I'm worried."

"He's fine. Henry's fine."

"He should not be behind bars."

Almost 29 years of not recognizing Snow had not dulled Charming's understanding of his wife. He knew her, inside out, like the palm of his hand. And he knew when she was not telling him the whole story. But this was the middle of the night and he would give her this. "Snow. He's with his mother. Surely you don't think anything will happen to him there. Let him have this. You and I know that it may not be for long."

"I don't. I don't know. I used to be so sure of everything and now I'm not. Emma will never let anything happen to him. Never. But I'm not sure. Of how long it will last. Or…"

"I didn't mean Emma." It was a confession he could only make in the dark with the space of the room between them. "I meant Regina." He cut her protest before it was more than a sharp inhale of air. "Even Emma knows his mother is Regina."

"She can't even take care of herself now. She needs my Emma."

"Our Emma."

"Our Emma. She needs our Emma."

Charming slid off the bed and pulled Snow into his arms because that was his way of loving her. "They, then. They won't let anything happen to Henry. But that's not what you're worrying about. That's not what you're biting your lip over." Snow's head simply leaned against his shoulder and burrowed deeper into his arms. "You're worrying about Emma and Regina. About whether Emma will choose her over you."

"No. She would not do that."

"Does she need to chose, Snow?"

"There's too much between us, Regina and I. Too much. I don't think I'll ever not hate her. And Emma… Well, Emma is with her."

"Maybe, my Queen, it is time for one of you to let go."

"Would you?"

"For Emma? For my daughter, whom I get to meet 28 years too late? Yeah. I'm trying to."

"You make it sound so easy…"

"I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry I let you think that. It's not. Every time I remember what it felt like the night Emma was born, I go back to hating her. Or the day I found you in that glass coffin." Charming pushed the curtain aside and looked through the window at the sky in its darkest hour, just before dawn. "But I've heard the same you have in that room. I've heard it and I think that sometimes, the hurt is too great, the loneliness too hard, and you lose your way. I know you don't want to hear it, Snow, but Emma was born to save us all. I think that includes her. Maybe, it was her, particularly, who needed saving the most."

"Charming…"

"I know. It's unfair. But I have a soft spot for sob stories."

"You're a soft spot, all of you…"

"Yeah, let's keep that our own little secret…"
"I've been having dreams."

"What kind of dreams?"
"About a baby…"
"Our baby?" He pushed her back to get a better look. "Do you really want to try…"

"Not ours."

"No?" The light in his eyes had dimmed considerably.

"Regina's. I've been dreaming about a baby coming from her." Snow saw it in his eyes that he did not understand. "Theirs, I think. Their baby."

"Theirs?"

This was one of the things Snow loved about Charming: his openness. It never even occurred to him to tell her that it was just a dream or that it was not physically possible. Or that she was losing her ever loving mind. Which she probably was. He just smiled and looked dreamily at her, the same way he used to when they used to sit in the nursery they had built for Emma.

"A baby?" And his arms tightened a little more around her middle. "Tomorrow… What are you going to do about tomorrow?"

She didn't know. She had no clue. "Is that what's worrying you?" She gnawed on her bottom lip again, a gesture that was so Mary Margaret and so little Snow. "You know the truth. You know more than anyone there."
"So should I lie to give Emma what she wants? To give her this in lieu of all the toys, of all the kisses we did not give her?" He nuzzled her neck. It was the only reply he could give her.

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

Henry awoke again when Emma called him softly, her hand on his shoulder. She was dressed and ready to go. "Morning, Kid."

Henry stood and wrapped his mattress against the rock wall while Regina readied herself at a darker corner. His eyes measured the space between them and the possibility of the sound carrying. Emma read the worry in his eyes and smoothed his shoulder and pulled him into a hug. "It's going to be alright, Henry. Don't worry so much." She whispered in his year.

"You can't promise that."

No, she couldn't. But sometimes she forgot how bright Henry really was. How old for his years. She pulled him back and looked straight in his eyes. She met them with a steady, unflinching gaze.

"One way or another, kid, it will be alright." She willed him to understand the promise she was making not only to him but to Regina dressing only a few feet away from them. "Cross my heart." Henry turned to gauge how far Regina was. He kissed Emma on her cheek.

"I trust you." And then he made his way to his mother. It left Emma slightly dazed. She liked the kiss. And she was going to do whatever was necessary not only for his but Regina's kisses. She put her hand to her cheek and cupped it as if to stop the kiss from fading. She really liked this kissing business. Almost more than the hugs.

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

They were whispering. Henry and Emma were standing mere inches apart and whispering, excluding her from the conversation. She did not try to listen. It took every ounce of will in her, but she did not listen in. She had to trust them.

She pulled her pants closed and delayed the moment of pulling on a turtle neck. The fibbers macerated the skin where it was burning from the collar the fairy put on her every day when she was removed from the cell. When she heard Henry's feet shuffling, she quickly pulled it down her, adjusting it at the waist.

But when she looked up, Henry was looking at her, startled or shocked, she could not quite tell. His hands pulled awkwardly at the sweater and pulled the neck down, revealing the blisters of the burns, some half healed others angry and red. She could see it in his eyes, his next step was to call Emma. Quickly she put her finger over his lips and begged him silently not to say it, not to say a word. And when he tried to move from her to go to Emma, she grabbed his hands and mouthed Please in a silent plea that asked him to protect Emma from the hurt of not being able to do anything at all about it. That asked him not to expose her pain to the public scrutiny.

There were storms brewing in Henry's eyes, so, so much like Emma's. She hated to burden him with a secret. She hated to burden him with a secret from Emma. But she had no choice. Please she mouthed again.

Henry could think of no other reply but to hug her, to wrap his arms tight around her and not let go.

And he was still holding on to her when the Blue Fairy appeared and gave him a saccharine smile. Nor did he let go when she again placed the collar around Regina's neck, even though he could feel his mother's body tense up at the anticipation and she had tried to make him go away for this. He gave the fairy a nasty look, one that said I know what you're doing.

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

Emma saw things she could not quite understand. She saw Henry's heckles go up when the fairy approached them, she saw Regina's body tense and the way she wanted to push Henry away. Even though that was the last thing Regina ever wanted to do.

And then she saw the way the fairy's smile went from pleasant to creepy while she studied both Regina and Henry. And she did not like it. Not in the least bit.

Hadn't Leroy made a comment or two about the Fairy?

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

As the bus arrived at the town hall, Emma concentrated her immediate attention on finding Leroy. He had said something about the fairy, about not leaving Regina alone with her and she wanted desperately to find out why. Blue was her parents' oldest advisor - or at least one of the most powerful ones - and by all accounts she had been the one to give them a way out, to give them the enchanted tree.

But there was something that made her teeth itch. She had to concentrate on the goings on today and all she could think about was Regina recoiling from the fairy. She grabbed Henry by the scuff of his neck. The kid was not looking at her straight in the eye and he was pursing his lips as if he was trying to stop his mouth from opening and spilling something.

"C'mere, kid."

"Not now, Emma, we should go inside."

"Then tell me quick what happened back there."
"Where?"

"Talk fast and we go in faster."

"Emma, please."

"Something with the fairy. I know it, so you better tell me, Henry." But Regina breezed in, all cheer as if she was not going in to stand trial, and stood between Emma and Henry, holding on to Emma's arm.

"Let's not keep them waiting. Lateness has never been fashionable."

Emma straightened, her eyes fixed on Henry. "Yes, let's." she spoke directly at him in a tone that said this conversation is not over yet.

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

Granny sat on the chair that Snow had occupied so far and hit her gavel on the table. She had always wanted to do that since she'd watched Perry Mason all those years ago.

"Right, people, simmer down. I'm sitting here today because our esteemed prosecutor thought it might be a little confusing as he put it, to have Snow White be a witness and judge at the same time. Personally, I think it's damned obvious that it is a conflict of interest but then again, what else has this been from the beginning. Nevertheless, this is the way we go. I sit here for today and when he sees fit, the prosecutor will call Snow to testify. Everybody got that?"

There were mumbles from the room but no one really spoke up. Granny took it as her cue to call in the prosecutor who looked a little worse for the wear. She wondered idly if punishment was in the cards for all of the resident bad guys. She could name a few. There were far more lurking in the shadows, her wolf sense told her. Or maybe it was common sense. She wondered how the town would look if all those guilty of something worthy of punishment were suddenly thrown into a cell. Probably, there would be a lot more parking spaces on Main on market days.

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

It was strange to the prosecutor that he was relying on a fairy of all things. He did not trust fairies as far as he could spit them. There had been, after all, no fairy godmothers when his wife had been unable to provide him with an heir. There had been no fairies when she'd died miscarrying a child. No help when the James he had raised from a babe had died at Midas' court. No, the fairies had never been of any help to him or his.

But this one seemed to know just how important she was. Her sweet smile made him a little uneasy, her mild and meek manner and soft tone of voice. But she was willing and people loved their fairies. They were sort of a religion from the old land and there was no underestimating how much she could be of assistance now.

When he called her, she stood and walked to the witness stand, all dignity, her head lowered, hands clasped as if she were some religious icon in a church, all beatitude. The prosecutor wondered briefly how she could be that serene. There were such things as sins by omission and as far as he was concerned, she had sinned against him by omission by not saving his dear ones. But this was not the time or the place to rehash. This was the time to make the most of that pretty face and of the blue nunnery uniform he was unsure why she chose to wear still.

He bowed to her slightly and asked reverently- or as reverently as he could mimic- that she state her name for the records.

"I am the Blue Fairy" And she gave that indulgent, slightly condescending smile she would give a child that prayed to her.

"Thank you. Would you please be so kind as to state for this court how you were wronged by the defendant."

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

"Where's your fairy godmother?" Emma leaned into Regina and whispered, never losing sight of the Blue Fairy. Her bullshitmeter was as doing a fairly good imitation of the fire department siren.

Regina gave her a strange look. It did not immediately translate to Emma, concerned that she was in not missing a syllable of the fairy's self indulgent speech. "I didn't have one."

"Why?"

"I just didn't."

"Were you not princess enough for one?"

"I'm not sure of the rules, but I was never a princess. I was born as common as they come. I just married into royalty."

"Did you ever…" Emma turned to her then, because she always did that when words failed her. "like… pray to the fairies or something?"

"There were times… I'd pray to anything. But I did. I prayed to them too."

"And?"

Regina answered with a look that encompassed everything from the room they sat in to all the years between those prayers and the present. It was a look of pure exhaustion. "And nothing. No one ever answered."

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

The Prosecutor was nothing if not goal orientated which went a long way in helping him smile his own brand of indulgence at the fairy's soft tone of someone telling a bed time story.

"Do you have any idea why the fairies were brought to this land? On all accounts, you were responsible for making our land prosperous, fruitful. But here, in a land without magic, you would not be of much use. I'm just wondering why curse the fairies… Did you ever wrong the defendant? Had you even met her?"

"Well, I'm not sure. It is not in me to understand the nature of evil. But I suppose that, in a way, the… defendant… would be aggrieved by the fact that I provided an escape for the Saviour."

"For which we are very thankful. Would the curse have ever broken had you not provided that escape?"

The Blue Fairy looked at her hands clasped loosely in her lap as if shy to take praise. "It was a very powerful curse. Evil in its purest form. I do not think so."

"So, effectively, those actions cost you everything: your power, your dwelling, your magic."

"A fairy's magic, her power, is only to be of service to others. The fairies lost the power to help all of those that would need help. That was the greatest loss for us. All of those that we could not help, that we could not save."

The awed bliss expressions in the assembly told the prosecutor this was a good witness to be had. And then the commotion started with Gold standing up, leaning against his cane, his expression one of anger. Belle, at his side, remained seated as if she could not stand to be a part of what he planed but could not stand to be apart from him either.

"I suppose then, Miss Blue," and he chewed the word and spit it out, "that you have always helped everyone back home."

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

Emma turned on her seat. Gold was not good news. Ever. But she found that she wanted to hear what he had to say and that whatever it was that he wanted to say had the same scent of whatever Henry and Regina had hidden from her that morning in the cave.

His eyes were blazing with fury and whatever it was stuck in his craw was bubbling right under the good cut of his suit, held tightly in check by his hands gnarling the cane.

"I suppose that you only ever wanted what's best for every child that ever prayed to you." Hurt, Emma identified the undertone to Gold's hateful tone. It was hurt. Deep seated hurt.

"Certainly, Rumplestilskin. That is difference between us. Children pray to me for safe passage from you. You are the stuff of nightmares and I am their salvation. You should know that better than anyone. Your own son, after all, came to me for help, for safe passage from you."

"Not from me!"

The prosecutor stood and objected. "Widow Lucas, if you please! My witness is being intimidated by this man!"

"And the Prosecutor will please remember that she is not your witness but the court's. Having said that, Mr Gold, take it easy, will you!" Granny's voice was somewhere between a plea and a demand, born of years of being crushed under Gold's boot.

"So I suppose it was all fine, pretty words, then, when the prosecutor preached about how we all were entitled to bring our grievances before this court?" Gold regained his composure as he spoke.

"But that surely is a matter for another day! We are here to hear the matter of the people versus Regina Mills, no one else."

"Actually," Emma stood interrupting the Prosecutor, hair waving around her face set in a grim expression. "I think we should hear what Mr Gold has to say. It might be relevant. In fact, I am very interested. Also, he's right: the prosecutor opened that can of worms. We are all entitled to bring our grievances to this court."

"Sustained!" Granny proclaimed from the judge's desk. "I always wanted to say that." She snickered to no one in particular but got some response chuckles from the stands. "Prosecutor?"

The prosecutor rubbed at his right temple but as soon as he was conscious of the gesture, he stopped it as if he had been burned by his own skin. "Miss Blue. Before you were interrupted, you mentioned how fairies use their power for good, and how that use of power got you for our troubles only to be brought here, to this land. Without magic."

"Indeed."

"And how you helped rescue the saviour and bring her to safety. To this land."

"Indeed!" Gold quipped from the stands again. He stood remarkably fast for what Storybrooke was used to. "So how did it feel to separate a child from her parents?"

"I'm not sure I understand your question, Rumplestilskin. Please state your business. I find that it makes me nervous to deal with someone so adept at manipulation, half words and insinuations."
"Oh, I think you know exactly what I mean. I think you took great pleasure in separating the saviour from her parents. Tell me, does the quality of the pleasure relate in any way to the age of the child you separate from the parents? Their rank, perhaps?"

"Well, I never…!"

"Never what?" Gold was making slow but steady progress towards the witness stand and Emma was already paying attention to how much he was inching forward because she might not like the fairy but no one was getting killed on her watch.

"What are you insinuating, Rumplestilskin? Evil is your purview, not mine."

"Really? Is that why you gave my Bae that bean that took him away from me?"

"What took him away from you was your own cowardice, Rumplestilskin. You are nothing but a coward that allowed his child through a portal alone without heeding that's child's desperate cries for his papa."

"We would have worked through it. You had no business interfering between a child and a parent. We could have worked through it but you did not let us. You took that from my Bae and from me and until today he is still lost. Lost to me. How good does that feel to you? Does it give you power? Or just glee?"

For the first time since her arrival in Storybrooke, Emma felt sorry for Gold. His eyes were wild with fury and grief and loss. And that was something she could easily relate to. Maybe she would let him get a punch or three in.

"I wonder, Miss Blue, how many more children you helped in that way, separating them from their parents. How many? I wonder, Miss Blue, if it was you who gave Dr Hopper that gift of becoming something else. I wonder if it was kindness of your heart or simply the need for separating one more child from their parents."

"Don't be ridiculous. Jiminy needed the space to grow as a man. That would have never happened while under the boot of his vile, evil parents."

"So giving him the courage to fight them back, to assert himself, was not an option? And tell me, where were you when Jiminy killed young Geppetto's parents with that potion? Why did you let it happen? There you have it, one more boy alone in the world. Was it just because you were killing two birds with one stone?" There were two audible gasps from the public. Geppetto and Jiminy held fast to each other, as if all those years after they were still trying not to let tragedy come between them. "I wonder, Miss Blue, if anyone knows how Pinocchio got himself a free ride on the enchanted tree express out of the Enchanted Forest. How pleasurable was it for you to separate that boy from his father?"

"How dare you? I gave Geppetto that boy to love. I gave a real boy to him."

"And when he did, you took him away. I suppose that giving a man that had already suffered so much and his wife the capacity to have children was beyond you. You can turn a wooden puppet into a boy but you cannot help them conceive a child. I wonder why?"

The Prosecutor felt a dizzy spell coming over him. He leaned against his desk, trying to catch his breath.

"I saved those children. Geppetto, Pinocchio, Jiminy. Emma. I. Saved. Them."

"Huh." Suddenly Gold seemed absolutely in control of himself, all progress towards the fairy arrested. "I wonder if it's a power thing. Do you feed on the power of grief, fairy? Is that why you have all your girls tucked under their nun habits?"

Could fairies have apoplectic attacks, Emma wondered. "They are not girls, Rumplestilskin. They are fairies of the highest order of the Magiks."

"The witness is excused." The Prosecutor addressed the court instead of the fairy. He could not stand the sight of her. He could not think that she or one of hers could have saved him such grief, could have saved his wife from bleeding to death trying to give him a son. "The witness is free to go." No, that did not sound right either. The witness could not be excused. And should not be free to go. She should be… "The witness can be removed from the court." It was the best it could come up with.

"Actually, I think I would like to cross examine." Emma interrupted the Prosecutor, a little sass in her tone, a little speculation, too. He was clearly unwell and she approached him conversationally, all in a day's work, to hand him a glass of water that rested on his desk. Then, she turned to the fairy. "It's fairly obvious that I know nothing of the goings on in the Enchanted Forest. I mean, how could I, right? I lived there for the whole of 10 minutes or so. So, for my education, Miss Blue, could you please explain the rules to the court?"

"You can call me Blue, sweetheart." And the smile was so saccharine, so bright it turned Emma's stomach a little. "The rules, Emma?" The fairy was composed again, the delicate sweet smile in her face again, the head slightly tilted to one side in rapt attention.

"Yeah, I mean… The rules of fairydom. How does it work? Do you have to be a girl to have a fairy god mother? 'Cause save for Pinocchio, I never read about boys having them. Also, do you have to be a princess or can a peasant have one? Do you have to be beautiful? I don't remember a story where an ugly peasant had a fairy good mother. So I guess, I just want to know that. And how does it work. Do you have to pray for one? Or do you get one assigned at birth? That kind of stuff, you know?"

"My dear Emma…. Why would you worry about such matters?" When Emma simply waited for the reply, the fairy continued, pleasant smile forcibly in place. "How much you have missed in life! Well, I would have been your fairy godmother. Had you not been forced to leave the Enchanted Forest, I would have been your fairy godmother. To watch over you and protect you, guide you."

"Thanks." The expression on Emma's face was, though, speculative at best. Not thankful at all. "So what you mean is that there is a fairy attributed to a princess at the moment of her birth. Or conception or whenever."

"Indeed."

"What about the boys? And what if I had been born daughter of a thief and a shepherd? Would I have had you? I mean, you're like the queen of fairies, right?"

"We do not have queens, Emma, sweetheart."
"But you are the mother superior."

"That was the curse, not something in natural order of fairies. But I am, I'll admit, one of the oldest still alive. So my powers are… greater than some of the others. Magic- good magic- improves with age."

"But what about if I had been born a nobody instead of a… princess?" Emma actually felt herself blush.

"I'm not sure I understand the question, sweetie." And that was a lie. Oh, she understood it well enough. "Oh… sorry about that. Let me give you an example… Ashley… I mean, Cinderella, she had a fairy godmother. According to the stories, that is, so I was wondering_"

"Oh, she had a fairy godmother alright, but he_" and she pointed her accusing finger at Rumplestilskin, "killed her." Ashley nodded in her seat. Gold simply muttered something to the effect of one less, deary but made no further comments and neither did he look at all repentant. He was a watered down version of the old Rumplestilskin in his disdain.

"I see. But she was a commoner. So that must mean that commoners get to have a fairy too."

"Oh no, Emma! I mean… Your Highness… I was as common as coal. My father had land, but he was still only a merchant." Ashley spoke earnestly from her seat. Emma beamed at hear, but Ashley's cheeks tinged red when the fairy gave her an evaluating look. "Sorry I spoke out of turn…"

"She was destined to be a princess."

"Ah, I see. So if you're born important or fated to be important, you get a fairy godmother."

"She was also good and kind and honest."

"Okay. So, girl, important or fated to be important, good, kind and honest. Pretty. I don't get it." The fairy's smile died a little on her face. Emma moved to stand next to Regina and pulled her up by her arm to stand. "Let's discuss Regina: Girl. Check. Important. Not really, she was no princess, at least, but given that she brought us all here, I'd say that she was fated to be important. A queen. So check that one too. Pretty. Check. And for all that Snow, my mother, told me, good and kind and honest until she married my delightful grandfather." Her hold on Regina's arm strengthened as Regina tried to pull away and sit down. "So this is what I don't get. Where was her fairy godmother while her mother- who I met – and let me tell you, piece of work does not even begin to describe that demon- abused her? Where was that fairy godmother when her mother sold her off to marry an older man? Or when her own mother took her heart from her chest? Or when her mother killed her baby still inside her? Did she not pray enough? Was there static on the line and you could not hear her cry? Hell, for the sake of it, where was her beloved's fairy godmother when Regina's mother killed him?"

"I have heard enough, Emma. Not being raised by your parents made you lose all notion of decorum and propriety. If you'll excuse me_"
"Oh hell, no, lady, you are not excused. You can get out of this room but you are not excused. You know why? You did nothing. You did nothing to help her. So you tell me now: why was evil allowed to triumph?"

"Some things have to come to pass, Emma."

"At her expense? 'Cause let me tell you: the only reason evil triumphed was because you, the good one, did nothing. You sat or hovered or whatever it is you do with your wings and you did nothing. How does that feel? And while I'm at it, and just because I am that brand of curious," Emma took a deep breath and studied Rumplestilskin. Her voice lowered and she turned to study the fairy's reaction. "Care to explain how you knew that the boy screamed for his papa? Were you there, by any chance? Watching?"

Blue remained mutinously silent and that told Emma everything she wanted to know.

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

Granny had never been particularly fond of fairies. She did not see the point to them, not when you're the one sowing and harvesting and suffering but they were credited with everything so she simply assumed that there was a problem with her and that was it. The world in the Enchanted Forrest was a smaller place and she had grown used to sitting by, fiercely guarding what was hers, hearing the noises of the world and never thinking about it much. Things were the way they were and that was it. But come to think of it, where had her fairy godmother been when she had been taken over by the wolf? Or her daughter's? Where had hers been? Or Red's?

When the fairy offered no reply but a stony offended silence, when Emma sat down and pulled Regina into her arms, Granny took that as body English for the defence has no further questions. Which was just as well, because Granny did not believe they were going to get any more out of the fairy.

She adjourned the session until after lunch. It was early still, but the nerves were running high. "See you all here after lunch."

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

Regina stared outside the large window of the events room come court. She knew this day would come since the whole trial had started. There was no one, after all, more aggrieved than Snow White. All she had done had been to punish Snow. So this day had been coming, in a way, since the night at the stables, since her mother had killed Daniel with a smile on her face.

A black bird spanned its wings and flew in circles framed by the window. She wondered what went through a bird's mind when it flew. How freedom tasted to that bird.

She rubbed Emma's fingers in hers. To Emma, holding her hand like that, throughout the trial had been something unconscious, something she did without even thinking about. It was Emma's way of affection, those simple touches. To her, though, they were her wings. She was living in a dark cave from where she would probably never leave and withstanding a trial that, if she was lucky, would end with a quick death. But Emma's hand in hers was her freedom, her vast horizon.

That too, in way, had been coming since that night at the stables, if she was in a more poetic mood. They'd had to live through all of that, Snow and her, so that she could be here today knowing what freedom felt like- from her mother, from her life, from her hurt, sitting behind the magic bars and wearing a burning magic collar on her neck.

Whatever that bird felt like could only be an approximation of what she felt now.

The Prosecutor called Snow White in his best resonant voice, the same she remembered from the day she had whisked Charming away from that guillotine. She was not sure what she had expected this time to look like. This woman walking in was not the Mary Margaret she had silently hated for twenty eight years. But she was not the Snow that had stormed her castle and taken her throne. That brash and brazen woman seemed too far away. The years had had strange effect on this Snow. It was a confident woman walking in, but one with a weight on her heart. And she was also the little girl she had once loved. Who had loved her too.

She knew all that Snow would say to the court. She had been there too, after all, and no matter how justified or how crazed those actions had been there had been then, and there were still, consequences.

She let the feeling of the collar burning become conscious pain. The time had come to pay the piper.