Chapter 41

A/N. The inspiration for this chapter was U2's "Love and Peace or Else."

"Baelfire," Belle breathes in awe, but the sheriff's reaction is pure Emma, amended for Henry's sake: "What the fu-udge?"

Bae can't meet his father's eyes. "See, you're not the only one with a curse."

Gold sets his hand on his son's arm. He no longer has the capacity to smell the magic in another's blood, so he's unable to determine the type or the strength of Bae's magic; it doesn't matter anyway, he decides, for clearly, Bae has never taken advantage of this power. What does matter is how Bae feels about it. Gold's first impulse is to assure Bae that he's not cursed, that his magic is not dark and that he should explore it, but none of that would fly with Bae. In his mind, all magic corrupts: in his fourteen-year-old, black-and-white way of thinking, it was the only way he could justify his father's and Blue's actions, and he's stuck to that way of thinking ever since.

"How did this happen?" Snow asks.

"I don't want to talk about it," he snaps.

"Okay," David says slowly. "Now, we're going to want to pull the enemy away from FM 133: that's how we'll send our New York-bound group through. . . ."

Gold is listening, but he's still staring at his son. There is nothing Bae could have said or done that would have stunned him more—nor opened a wider door of opportunity to cement their relationship, for Bae is so troubled by his "curse" that he needs help coping, and no one knows more about coping with curses than Rumplestiltskin. Now, perhaps that Rumple's free of his own curse, Bae will see him as a worthy counselor. He squeezes his son's shoulder.

"I don't want to talk about it," Bae insists in a hiss.

"When you're ready," Gold whispers back.

Emma's phone rings and she steps aside to take the call. When she returns, she interrupts the planning to announce, "Pan's arrived. They've got their own party going on over there." She turns her phone around to show a fuzzy photo of a dark-haired kid in a leaf tunic and green tights. He's sporting a crown of holly.

"He can't be more than twelve," Snow says.

"Don't underestimate him," Emma cautions, recalling what she learned from Hook. "That twelve-year-old has about sixty years of battlefield experience."

"Yeah, but I'm not sure I can bring myself to fight a child."

"You'll forget he's a child soon enough," Bae assures Snow.

Gold's House, midnight

"I want to stay with you tonight," Belle had said as they walked home from Granny's.

"It's liable to be noisy. The Lost Boys will be there. And I have packing to do," Gold had answered, but that was the end of his argument: he wanted them to be together too.

As they open the door to the dark house, Belle kicks off her shoes. Her body slumps with weariness as they drop onto the couch. He massages her shoulders and she leans into him with a satisfied sigh. "I'm going to miss this place."

"This house?" He won't. The house represents Regina's idea of Gold, not—he stops in mid-thought: Gold is Regina's idea of Gold. He is Rumplestiltskin; he must start thinking of himself that way. Except. . . .Rumplestiltskin was a fabrication too. He closes his eyes, resting his chin on the top of Belle's re-shorn head (he's starting to like her haircut, actually: the shorter hair emphasizes the diamond shape of her face). He can't remember who he was before he became a cartoon.

"Belle."

"Hmm?" She's half asleep on his chest. The rest of the righteous. Since Emma woke him from his cursed daze, he hasn't slept a full night, not even with Belle in his arms. That will change soon, he supposes, when he returns to manual labor as the means for earning his daily bread.

"There will be a need for cloth, and no factories to produce it. I think I'd like to be a spinner again."

"Then I shall learn to weave."

They fall silent and her breathing slows; he realizes she's fallen into a light sleep. When her breathing deepens, he will rise carefully, settle her comfortably onto the couch, cover her with the lap blanket. He has packing to do, and there will be no time tomorrow: gardening tools from his shed, carpentry tools from his shop, sewing gear. He scowls: he should have thought earlier today to buy clothes, for nothing in his closet upstairs is suitable for his new labors. When the Lost Boys return from the hospital, he will bargain with them, trading his Armani and Hugo Boss for their (good grief) "I heart NY" t-shirts and Wal-mart dungarees.

He thinks of the old potions case in his basement, and the shelf of powders and spell books. Though the magic has left his body, in all honesty, he's not completely bereft. Even if he abandons everything in his basement, he will still have the knowledge: he can take the raw ingredients the forest and the sea provide and from them, he can perform impressive feats. He can be a mage again.

He thinks about this a long time before he rises and tucks Belle in. He starts for the shed, but that route takes him past the basement, and his feet pause there. His hand on the door knob, he begins to plan which potions and powders to pack in the case. Healing ones, first and foremost, then those that can protect and defend, and those that can ensure successful crops and healthy lambs, and. . . .

But he has magic. He doesn't need potions or spells; he has the most powerful magic in all the realms, and not that pale imitation he bottled and threw into a well, either: between Belle and Bae, he has the strongest and purest forms of True Love. He finds himself chuckling silently: Slightly's boss is at work on Rumplestiltskin again. Will she never give up on him?

Then again, why should she? He's always been her biggest fan.

He releases the door knob and walks away.

Town Border at Highway 5, Dawn

Granny and her cook are distributing cinnamon rolls and cups of coffee and tea. It's the last time they'll ever serve this group of customers, so they are paid in hugs and kisses and handshakes as well as fervent wishes for their happiness. As a parting gift, Granny presses a rubber-banded stack of file cards into David's belt. "Recipes for dishes from the old world," she says. "I know you're the cook in the family." David accepts them with thanks.

A horse-sized black wolf bounds up the highway, in mid-stride transforming into a tired but proud Ruby. She reports that the enemy has awoken and is breakfasting—eating as though they had all day to sit around in hammocks. David is pleased with this news. As Ruby adds that Curly has left his post to join his compatriots at the FM 133 border, a call comes in from Nibs: the ninety-seven citizens who will be leaving for New York, excepting the Lucases and their cook, are all present and accounted for, their vehicles packed and gassed up.

"We'll call as soon as the attack begins," Snow says. "And then take off. Emma says don't worry about the speed limit."

Nibs' voice crackles. "Good luck to you, Your Majesty. Maybe we'll see you again sometime."

"Good luck to you, Nibs. And thanks."

Slightly pulls up in Dove's SUV—now signed over to Ruby. He hops out and opens the back. "Ms. Lucas?" he holds his hand out for Granny to help her aboard; the cook climbs in on the other side. With handshakes, kisses and farewells all around for this new arrival, the final separation of the tribes is accomplished: those who will conquer New York, those who will conquer the Enchanted Forest.

Granny pauses with her foot on the step. She turns, flares her skirt out and curtseys to Snow. "May you fare well, Your Majesty."

Snow dips her head in thanks, and Granny climbs into the car.

Slightly extends a hand to Dove. "Mr. Dove. It'll soon be someone else's turn to take care of you. Let her." He casts a glance meaningfully over Dove's shoulder, and when the latter looks back, he finds Regina standing there, discussing last-minute plans with David. Dove frowns in puzzlement and Slightly shrugs. "My boss moves in mysterious ways."

Slightly waves a hand toward a thick-leaved oak tree several yards back from the highway. He knows Henry's there, but he's not sure if Henry is up the tree, in the tree-or transformed into the tree. "Henry, take care of yourself."

A bright voice calls back, "Goodbye, Mr. Slightly!"

Slightly now accepts a kiss from Belle. "Ms. French, thank you." He doesn't have to say what for. "We'll see each other again." He leans forward to whisper to her, "You're one of my boss' favorites, you know."

He then shakes Gold's hand. "Mr. Gold." He winks. "We're gonna break the monster's back."

Gold smiles wryly. "We already have, Mr. Slightly."

Bae is the last. The young men and old colleagues embrace, slapping each other on the back, mumbling tough-guy words of encouragement: "Give 'em hell, Petey." "Kick ass, Slightly."

Slightly ends with a request, "Don't forget to invite me to the wedding." When, red-faced, Bae glances over at Emma, who's got Hook in a visual death grip, Slightly laughs and slaps his back again. "Ha! Caught ya!"

With final waves, the SUV rumbles back the way it came.

Highway 5, 6:47 am

The sun is rising. In the distance, an unnatural rooster crow cuts across the sky.

"Welcome to Storybrooke, Pan," David mutters, leaning on the town sign. As Snow calls Whale at the library and commands, "Throw the beans now!" and Archie starts his stopwatch, David unsheathes his sword.

FM 133, 6:50 am

Nibs, at the wheel of an old VW bus hauling Ma Shoe and her nine children, shouts into his cell phone, "Roll 'em!" and begins to sing "The Caisson Song" at the top of his lungs. Ma and some of her children join in, but the smaller ones whimper and clutch their favorite blankets and toys. The eldest child, nineteen-year-old Anna, holds her two youngest siblings on her lap and grumbles about her father, who managed to avoid this mess by hopping into Jack B. Nimble's taxi with the Nimble clan.

Behind Nibs ten other vehicles are lined up, ranging from a rebuilt MG Midget belonging to Mike Marine of Marine's Garage to a farm truck hauling the Spratt family to a city bus carrying fifty evacuees with assorted alliances. No one's ever seen the city bus on the streets of Storybrooke before; it's been sitting in the junkyard for thirty years. Twin One, the driver, can't figure out why: it purrs like a kitten who's getting its belly rubbed.

Waiting on the pavement are the Lucases and Slightly. Granny's got her crossbow at the ready as she scans the sky, on the lookout for trouble: "Anybody gonna try to stop this caravan's got to go through me first." Ruby scans the horizon, her heightened senses detecting the rapid approach of an army, coming from the west and headed toward the border at Highway 5. "They're moving directly towards our people," she reports. "They've got a couple of scouts flying overhead; the scouts are saying this is going to be a cakewalk." Her eyes glow yellow as she frowns with worry, but Slightly, holding her hand, shakes his head. "Two minutes," he reminds her. "Then kablooey."

"Maybe I should run back, in case they need help."

"They're going to be fine." He checks his pocket watch. "Any second now Whale will open the portal."

"We'll never know if Snow's team made it all right."

As the last vehicle in the caravan rolls by, he urges Granny and Ruby into Dove's SUV, where four other passengers wait, singing "New York, New York."

He squeezes Ruby's hand. "We'll know."

He's right about that, but she doesn't say why she knows he's right: it's because she'll smell the blood if the fighters don't survive.

Storybrooke Library, 6:50 am

The hospital staff has fallen into the role of leaders, quieting the 168 suitcase-carrying evacuees waiting in the street. "Shush, shush," they caution. "Dr. Whale needs to be able to hear when the call comes in."

Standing on the threshold in the open doorway, Whale holds his phone to his ear and waits. Behind him, boxes and crates of all sizes have been neatly arranged; inside, packed in heavy padding, are the instruments with which the former Storybrookers will become Enchanted Forest residents again. Among the crates are a dozen young farm animals: their owners can only pray they will survive the fall.

Someone whispers, "What if we land in ogre territory?"

"Shush!" Kelly slaps the back of that rumor-monger's head.

When the call comes, the nurses and orderlies and hospital custodians will begin directing the evacuees into the library, two by two, ten seconds apart, so they won't fall on top of each other as they leap into the portal. Then Whale, compass in hand, will throw the bean and, with Doc, make the first jump. They'll be waiting on the other side with their medical bags open, just in case.

Whale's phone rings.

Highway 5, 6:54 am

There's a rumble first, the ground shaking and the trees bending as if trying to escape the onslaught; and then there's noise, so much noise it hurts: crow calls, shrieks, demon laughter, shouted threats in strange languages, marching feet and flapping wings. Overhead two griffins appear, their huge bodies and wide wings blocking the rising sun. They circle, taking turns diving in low, snatching at the heads of Snow's fighters, then soaring up again before an arrow or sword can be raised against them.

It takes an excruciatingly long time, Emma thinks, for the enemy's front line to appear on the hill overlooking the town line. "Like they think it's a Sunday stroll," she complains.

"Part of the strategy," Snow explains. "They expect the anticipation alone will scare some of us off."

As the front line starts down the hill, row after row after row falls in behind: first ogres and giants, then trolls, then fork-tailed demons, then creatures Emma can't identify, kind of human looking, yet not. "Steady," David says.

When the front line is half a mile away, David says, "Swords and bows up."

When the front line is a quarter mile away, it comes to a halt. A comet streaks overhead and lands at the head of the enemy line. When it stops glowing, Emma sees it's just a little boy, an adolescent in tights and tunic. The boy sets his hands on his hips and crows, then laughs as though he's come to play marbles in the schoolyard. "I smell you, Nine!"

The fighters standing on the border don't budge. "Steady," David says again.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" the boy sings. He points a finger at Snow. "Or she gets it first."

"Steady. . . "

Peter Pan the Fourteenth sends a blazing stone directly at Emma's head. He dances about: "Ha, ha, I changed my mind!"

Emma snaps her fingers and the firestone boomerangs and smacks an ogre between the eyes. The ogre crashes over, taking a phalanx of trolls with it.

"Ooh, a magic fight, is it?" Pan squeals. "Sorcerers forward!"

"Let 'em have it!" Snow thunders.

In a chaotic display of firepower, every one of Snow's 64 fighters, with the exception of Hook, seizes the magic from his or her talisman and shoots off fireballs, ice daggers, miniature cyclones, freezing rain, tree branches—a flying cuckoo clock even appears from Marco's magic and smacks a troll down. The biggest and most imaginative displays, Pan notices, come from four people standing front and center: a petite woman in a blue cape, a tall blonde woman in a red jacket, a sharp-featured woman in a black lace-and-satin gown, and a smallish, graying man who, even as Pan glares at him, transforms, his skin acquiring a greenish hue, his teeth blackening, his hair frizzing, and his irises turning gold.

"Rumplestiltskin," Pan identifies him. Then, with a mock bow: "Queen Regina. It's an honor, an unexpected honor."

"No it isn't," Regina says carelessly. She singes the tail off the demon standing to Pan's left.

Pan hesitates for just a fraction of a second. "But where is my predecessor? It's him I want—his head on a spike, that is."

"Afraid to play with the grown-ups?" Regina calls out. "I'll turn you over my knee, you little snot-nosed brat." She, with the woman in blue and the woman in red following right behind her, unleashes a volley of completely random and therefore unpredictable flying and flaming objects at Pan's front line, even as his sorcerers appear, forming a protective shield before him.

"Get 'em!" Pan orders, and his army attacks.

For a moment longer, Rumplestiltskin stands perfectly still on the crooked orange line. Then he raises a single finger, points to the sky, and with Henry's magic drags a storm cloud in from the ocean, centers it over Pan's head, inching it this way, then that, until it's exactly where he wants it, and then releases its rain, thunder and lightning upon Pan.

Snow shouts at the top of her lungs, "RUN!"

To the utter amazement of the enemy, her entire army turns tail and scatters.

Wiping the rain from his eyes, Pan orders, "Kill 'em all!" He leaps into the air and hovers, watching, directing the attack, and then he narrows his eyes and sets out himself after the woman he's identified as the leader. His sword a lightning bolt, a flaming dagger in his sash, he sweeps down from the clouds like a hawk with its talons snatching at a sparrow, and he seizes Snow by the ankle, flips her upside down and carries her into the sky. Her tiara clatters to the asphalt and Regina snatches it up.

Something flashes at Rumplestiltskin's left, but he's busy running from an ogre and can't turn to see what it is. Then he hears a rooster's crow, in a deeper voice than Pan's, and a flash of blue bolts into the clouds. Stumbling over his own feet, he spins to stare past the ogre into the sky. "Bae! No!"

"Grampa, duck!" Henry's shriek rings inside Rumple's head. The imp falls and rolls, avoiding a sideswipe from the pursuing ogre. As Rumple struggles to his feet, Henry shouts again, "Shoot him, Grampa, shoot him! Fireballs coming!" Rumple lifts both his open palms and his fingers burn and tingle and Henry's magic pours through them, producing two orange fireballs that Rumple flings at the ogre. The ogre's loincloth catches fire and the creature emerges naked but unscathed. "Give me a spear, Henry!" Rumple requests, and together they send the spear's point right between the ogre's eyes.

"Neal! Come back! We don't have time for this!" Emma is shouting as Pan Nine sweeps across the sky, sword at the ready, and barrels right at Fourteen, running his sword into Fourteen's shoulder. Fourteen has no choice but to drop Snow so he can defend himself. A heavenly sword fight ensues. "Damn it, Neal!"

David helps a limping Snow to her feet and half-carries her as they try to run. Blue sends a blast of healing magic at Snow's leg; she can't take the time to assess just where the injury is, but her magic painkiller gives Snow full use of her limbs again.

Metal clashes in the sky as one army keeps running after the other. Archie shouts, "Neal! Ten seconds!" He leaps up, ordering, "Henry, make me fly!" But it's too late: Henry's transported himself across town already and is waiting at the library, anxiously watching the street for his family.

"Come on, kid, we've got to go." Leroy is the first of the fighters to arrive at the library, and he tugs at Henry's arm, but Henry wrenches free.

"Not yet! My moms aren't here yet!"

With a grunt Leroy raises his sword and stands protectively in front of the kid.

One by one, the fighters gallop down Main Street: Nova, Marco, Jefferson, Dove, Archie, Hook (who's lost his hook in a skirmish with Pan's pirates), on and on they come, and Kelly directs them into the portal.

"Now, Regina!" Snow shouts as she and David shoot around Sycamore Street and enter Main.

"Not yet," Rumple pleads. "Bae's still back there!"

But Regina stops in the middle of the street, extracts a black diamond from her cleavage, centers it in the asphalt as carefully as a golfer would a tee, and she conjures a baseball bat from Henry's bedroom in the mayor's mansion.

"Regina, stop!" Rumple demands, trying to take the bat away from her.

Emma and Blue sweep past and disappear into the library. Now it's only Belle, Snow and David, who are closing fast on their destination—and Bae. Crossing the threshold, Emma grabs Henry's arm and the two of them leap into the vortex.

"Run, Rumple!" Regina swings the bat like a sledgehammer, connecting with the first attempt. "Ms. Ruth's got nothing on me," she giggles as the diamond shoots up into the air and begins to spin, throwing off flashes of blue light. She tucks the bat under her arm and runs.

"Bae!" Rumple shouts into the sky. He frames his eyes with the flat of his hand, but he can only see shadows flitting to and fro. Belle tugs at his sleeve. "Rumple, please . . . ."

"It's Bae; he's up there, fighting Pan," Rumple stares at her and his glistening eyes say more than his words can. Belle nods and stares at the sky too.

A humming noise, increasing in volume and pitch, issues from the revolving diamond. Main Street crumbles beneath their feet; overhead, oak and sycamore trees reach out and swipe down power lines, crash through windows, and up through the ground shoot weeds and blades of grass tall as July corn stalks. Thick vines creep up the sides of buildings and wrap themselves like cobras around houses.

"Rumple. . . ." Belle urges, but she has no idea what she wants to say. She only knows what he's going to do: wait, even if it means waiting for his own existence to wink out.

"Go," he points at the library. "Please, Belle, for both of us."

She entwines her arm in his and watches the sky. The ground shakes and the street splits open; they struggle to stay upright.

Snow and David dash past, both of them shouting, but Belle and Rumple can't hear them over the demolition. A phalanx of Pan's army appears at the corner of Sycamore and Main, throwing magic, stones and arrows at the two remaining Storybrookers. The rest of Pan's army has scattered throughout town, some of them running for their lives, some, either oblivious to Nature's revolt or so fixated on greed that they can't see anything else, loot the stores. Belle and Rumple watch in horror as a pair of demons kick in the door to the pawnshop and run inside.

"Dad!"

A blue bolt shoots from the sky and Belle shrieks in triumph. "It's Bae!"

"Come on, what are you doing standing there?" With a thud Bae lands heavily on his feet. He's panting, holding his side, from where blood oozes, but he's alive and he's here. Rumple grabs him with one arm and Belle with the other, and they run for dear life as all about them, ogres, demons, giants, trolls, sorcerers and unidentifiable creatures simply vanish.

This time there's no hesitation: Rumple leaps into the void. As they fall, Belle calls upon the last drop of magic in her necklace; she summons it to her fingers, then she reaches out and touches Bae's wound. A little yellow light glows for a moment, then flickers out. It's enough.