Chapter 26
Storybrooke General, Room 666, 5:25 am
"I didn't kill Cora." Gold stands firm. "You'll just have to take my word for that, Ms. Swan."
Emma studies him for a brief moment. "Thank you for your help, Mr. Gold. You're free to go."
"What?" Regina rages. "You're letting a murderer walk out?"
"I have no cause to suspect him. Besides, he's a hospital patient. I'm letting him go back to his room to get some rest." Emma softens her voice. "Regina, is there anyone I can call for you?"
"You're not getting away with this, Rumplestiltskin!" Regina calls after the retreating Gold.
"Look, Regina," Emma takes out her phone. "I'm going to call Archie. You really shouldn't be alone right now." As she dials, Emma can hear the tap-step-tap-step fading down the hall. If a cane tap can sound sad, this one does. Her grip on the phone tightens as she waits for Archie to pick up. If the lab tests prove this to be murder, she's going to have to pry into the history of Gold's relationship with Cora. She's pretty sure she doesn't want to go there.
She gestures as three of the dwarves rush in. "Mike." She just can't bring herself to call him "Dopey." "Find out where Tamara is. Don't approach her, don't let her see you. Right now I just want to know where she is." Dopey nods and takes off. "Walter." Sleepy snaps to attention. "Same thing for Greg Mendell."
Simultaneously, the ME arrives and Archie answers his phone. Emma shifts into high gear, forgetting the three hours of sleep that she's been cheated out of. In the middle of her conversation with Archie, she suddenly has a brain flash and waves Happy over. "Get over to the inn. Henry's with Ruby. Stay with them tonight."
If her instincts are right, Henry could be in danger. She hangs up from Archie and intervenes in the ME's argument with Regina, who is refusing to allow her mother's body to be desecrated. Emma ends the disagreement by introducing a new worry: "Listen, Regina. We have to consider the possibility that whoever did this may have more victims on their hit list. I want to put you in protective custody."
"I'm quite capable of taking care—" but as the ME's team arrives to remove the body, the queen's shoulders slump. "All right." Her face darkens when her new guard arrives: David.
Emma desperately wants to see Henry, see him tucked into his bed safe and sound, but the best way she can protect him to do her job. It'll be some hours before the ME's report comes in; in the meantime, she needs to question her primary suspect, and she needs to warn Bae that Henry may be in danger. The really rough part is, she suspects the solution to both problems will be found in the same location.
She climbs into the squad car and heads over to Granny's.
Mayor's mansion, 5:45 am
Archie has driven Regina home. David, following in his Ford, enters the house first, searches the rooms, then permits them to enter. David takes up watch outside the house. She allows Archie in, a first: he's never set foot in her house. It occurs to him, as they walk through the foyer, that this doesn't look like the home a child would live in. It's elegant, sophisticated, cold. He finds no signs of Henry that don't fit that style: there are photos of him, yes, but all are professional portraits. There are no toys, no boy's clothes, no scuff marks or Kool Aid stains. It would have helped if he had seen all this when he was treating Henry.
Surprisingly, she leads him to her office instead of the living room. She sits behind the desk and encourages him to sit in a straight-backed chair in front of the desk; their positions are her way of signaling who has the power here. She turns on the espresso machine; only after the coffee is ready does she ask if he'd like some. He declines. "Regina, would you like to talk about what happened?"
"I'm going to kill him," she spits.
"Kill-? We don't know yet that your mother was murdered, or if she was, who did it."
"I know," she answers with certainty. "He may be more powerful than me, but when his back is turned I'm going to kill him."
"Who? Rumplestiltskin?"
She rises and begins to pace, her coffee sloshing dangerously in its cup. "He thinks he's got away with it. Nobody will come after him, because they feel sorry for him. But he's going to pay. First I'm going to take his family away, like he did to me. And then when he's on his knees sobbing, I'll kill him and take his power." She makes a stabbing motion with her free hand, and the movement causes her coffee to spill onto the white carpet. She doesn't notice.
"What makes you so sure Rumplestiltskin killed your mother?"
"He's the only one who would have dared," she hisses. "I'll kill his son in front of him. Slow, so it takes hours for him to die."
"You'll be killing Henry's father."
She ignores his comment. "I'll flay the skin from his body so there will no place the Dark One can hide without hearing his son's screams. And then I'll go after Belle."
"Regina, you can't mean that. Even if Rumplestiltskin is guilty, torturing and killing his family won't bring your mother back. An eye for an eye only leaves the world blind."
"Stuff your platitudes. He's going to suffer, and he's going to die for what he's taken from me!"
"Revenge won't take your pain away. I know you're suffering, Regina, but you must not think this way. You can't mean it. Violence won't make you feel better."
She stares at him. "Obviously, you don't know me."
West Woods, sunrise
It seems perfectly logical. Lake Nostros has the power to restore what was lost. Drop in True Love's potion and voila, love shall be restored. Then the lovers need only kiss to break the curse, yes?
In the vial in his left hand is True Love, in potion form—the True Love created from the relationship of Rumplestiltskin/Gold and Lady Belle/Belle French. In addition to the hair he took from her comb, worn in this world, he added a DNA swab he took from her favorite tea cup from the Dark Castle. In addition to the hair he plucked from his scalp tonight, he added a hair he found on his dragon-skin jacket. The old and the new blended together, surely the formula represents both their shy, innocent love in the Enchanted Forest and their mature, experienced love in Storybrooke.
Gold drops the vial into the well and listens for the faint splash. As the vial hits the water, Gold casts his hope upon the waters too: he asks for help. It's another first for him; this has been a night of firsts. He has nothing to offer in trade to the Goddess of True Love; she controls a power that tops his, so there's nothing he can bribe her with. From what he's read and heard about her, she doesn't do deals anyway. She's a master of the heart, and that's the only way the earthbound can communicate with her. So as he releases his potion and his hope, he opens his heart too. The words come at first in awkward, halting phrases, but they gain eloquence and power as he humbles himself to her. He ends with the simple observation, "I need her, and she needs me. I beg you, bring her back to me, but if you can't, I'll do everything in my power to protect her, whether she loves me or not, even if it's herself I have to protect her from."
He feels the wind shudder. His nose tingles: magic has been released. Whether it's done what he's asked, he will find out as soon as Lacey wakes up.
Granny's B & B, 6 am
He transports himself to Granny's B & B, room 7, and making himself invisible in the corner of the cozy bedroom, he waits. He should be thinking about Cora's murder or Tamara's identity, but at the moment he doesn't care about those things. A year ago, when Belle emerged from Regina's secret asylum, he had promised her he'd protect her, and he'd failed to keep that promise. Whatever happens with the murder investigation or the magic beans or anything else, he's determined to rectify that mistake, just as he's done his best to make things right with Bae.
He has to repair the damage his cowardice has done to his loved ones. Let the rest of the world go to hell. That's where he's bound, anyway.
In the parking lot behind the B & B, a garbage truck empties the dumpster before moving on. Dove watches it go, memorizing the faces of the sanitation workers, just in case. On the dashboard lies his phone, with the sheriff's number at the top of the phone book. With one touch he can summon her, if need be. And he thinks need may be, because an hour ago she called him: "Keep an eye on your boss, will ya? Especially watch out for his son's girlfriend. If you see her anywhere near Gold, call me, ASAP."
So Dove watches and waits.
Granny's B & B, Room 8, 6 am
With a deep sigh, Emma screws her courage to the sticking place and knocks on the door. She's quiet about it: she knows Belle's right next door, and Greg's in room 4; she doesn't want to alert him. A few whispered words with Walter confirms that Mendell's in the room, sleeping.
No one comes to the door. Damn it, Neal's always been a heavy sleeper. Emma pounds a little louder, then a little louder, and she hears stirrings in room 7: crap, she's awakened Belle. Finally Neal, in t-shirt and jockeys (modesty's never been a hang-up for him), yanks the door open and growls, "What?"
"Where's Tamara?" Emma tries to look into the room.
Neal throws his arms in the air in defeat and pushes the door wide open so she can see he's alone. She repeats, "Where's Tamara?"
He shrugs. "Went runnin', like she does every morning at 6. Why?"
"I need to talk to her."
"Well, you're gonna have a long wait." He plunks down on the edge of the bed and pulls on the jeans he's left lying on the floor.
"I see she hasn't broken you of your sloppiness," Emma mutters.
"You don't really wanna start an argument at 6 a.m., do you?" he glares at her.
"Still not a morning person, either." She comes in and sits in the rocking chair.
"You gonna hang around here pointing out my flaws for the next two hours while we wait? 'Cause if you are, at least go get us a cup of coffee and a donut." He snuffles, and she remembers his allergies and she can't help but smile a little. He notices and responds in kind. "You still addicted to bear claws?"
She nods. "You still hooked on jelly donuts?"
He nods and chuckles. "The gooier, the better."
"Look," he spreads his hands. "Tam's gonna be gone at least two hours. She's training for the marathon. Let me get a shower, huh, and we'll go down to the restaurant and I'll buy you breakfast. Sound like a plan?"
"Where did she go? The park?"
He shrugs. "Probably not. Your park's only a block long. Probably out on one of the farm roads." He stands. "Come on, Em. You know you're hungry. I can hear your stomach growling."
She takes out her phone. "Let me check on Henry first."
Now he's concerned. "Something wrong with Henry?"
"Yeah—no." She looks him in the eye. That's how they used to be with each other: straightforward, direct. "There was a. . .a death last night at the hospital—"
Neal's face drains of blood. "Not my dad!"
"No, he's fine." Her mouth flickers into a brief smile. "Other than losing his shirt in a poker game last night. No, it's Regina's mother."
"A second heart attack?" he guesses.
She shakes her head slowly. "I'm waiting for the ME's report."
"ME?" He sits back down. "You think it's murder then."
"The circumstances are. . . suspicious."
Now he scowls. "And you want to talk to Tam. Aw, f—k, Em, you can't think she—"He leaps to his feet and grabs his phone off the nightstand. "You're not talking to her without a lawyer present."
"I'm not arresting her, just asking a few questions."
He dials. "Yeah, well, just so happens my dad's an attorney, and I want him here when you ask those questions."
Granny's B & B, Room 7, 6:05 am
Gold has created a window seat where there was none, and he's resting there as the sun comes up behind him. Belle is buried beneath a Wedding Ring pattern quilt that, Gold knows, Granny made herself; Granny calls this room the bridal suite, though it's a single room no bigger than the others, and there have been no weddings in Storybrooke. Ever. Yet. Gold corrects himself. Hope is his most valuable asset; he will spend it on Belle, as he spent it on Bae; he believes that in the latter case, his centuries of hope were well spent. But it's in True Love's hands now.
Belle snuffles. He would dearly love to spoon with her, awaken her with a kiss; she's not a morning person like he is, but she always wakes with a smile, especially if a kiss and a cup of Earl Grey are the rewards. He wonders what she's dreaming. She used to enjoy describing her dreams over breakfast, and she took his silly interpretations seriously. He wonders if Lacey's dreams are different. He wonders if Lacey dreams she's Belle.
His phone shrills. Damn, how could he forget to set it on vibrate? He scrambles for it and silences it. The caller will just have to wait. The world will just have to wait: this is Belle's time. If he'd made her his priority from the beginning, as she deserved, Hook never would have done this to her.
Too late. Belle struggles free of the quilt and sits up. It takes her several minutes of blinking and snuffling to awaken. He doesn't want to scare her, so he calls her name—"Belle," not "Lacey"—as he walks around to her side of the bed. "Good morning." He pours a glass of water for her.
She's a mess. Her mascara's run, her lipstick—black! Whatever possessed her to wear black lipstick?—is smeared, and her hair is a wreck. She groans and rubs her neck; she's probably hung over. But he's not interested in any of that; what he really needs to know is. . . .
"Belle?" he tries again, gently.
"Mr. Gold, what're you doin' here?" She kicks the quilt away, and then she notices she's still in the same clothes as last night. "Huh. I must've really gotten loaded last night. Sorry. Guess I promised you something I couldn't deliver, huh?"
"Oh." His voice falls with disappointment. He hadn't been sure what to expect, but he had expected something other than this.
She misunderstands, thinks he's disappointed in her lovemaking of last night—or lack thereof. "Take me out tonight. I'll make it up to you. Did you. . . pay me already?"
His heart sinks all the way to the floorboards.
"Oh, don't look so sad," she coos, clambering out of bed. She throws her arms around his neck. "You know, you're really awfully handsome, Mr. Gold. You always look so put together." Her hands slide into his hair. "Your hair's so soft, with just a touch of gray that's really sexy." She stands on tiptoe so they're nose to nose. "And your eyes. You have the most sensual, soulful. . . ." She pulls his head forward, slides her mouth against his. "I really like you, Mr. Gold." She deepens the kiss, and as her tongue explores his mouth he releases his cane to seize her waist and draw her in tight.
It wasn't supposed to go this way: True Love was supposed to be working on her, not him, but he's the one who's falling, and where she was supposed to remember, he's forgetting: forgetting his plans, his responsibilities. He slides a hand up to her back and presses her against his chest. She tastes of whiskey and beer and cigarettes, but he ignores it; she's offering to sell her body to him, but he ignores it. There's nothing, not one bloody thing, she can do that he won't forgive and love her through. The creature in his arms is a fabrication of the curse he and Regina created, but beneath the façade Belle still exists somewhere. He will cherish her and respect her and honor his promises to her, whatever she does. He will love her, as he has loved Bae, unconditionally, for the rest of his life.
Her voice is soft and sleepy as she relinquishes his mouth and rests her head on his chest. "Rumple? What are we doing here? What happened last night? My head's all foggy. Last thing I remember, we were kissing and something hit my shoulder and I fell."
"Well, we. . . .there was a lot of alcohol involved; I guess you—" He's been slow on the uptake, but he finally gets it. He raises her chin so he can look into her honest, loving gaze and he knows his prayer and his potion were received and found favor with the goddess. "Belle?"
She grins and clutches him tighter. "'You know you don't have to act with me, Steve. You don't have to say anything, and you don't have to do anything. Not a thing. Oh, maybe just whistle. You know how to whistle, don't you, Steve? You just put your lips together and blow.'"
He purses his lips and whistles lowly. And then with a laugh he captures her mouth again. . . until his phone rings.