Chapter Five—"Inherent Powers"
"What the hell was that?" Regina demanded from where she was splayed against the far wall. To her left, Tink made a small sound that sounded like it might be a similar question, blinking dizzily. Robin only groaned.
Belle could only stare at the three of them; she had no answers. The violent wave of magic hadn't touched her, though she'd watched it leap away from Rumplestiltskin and attack the other three, flinging them away with enough force that Belle had heard the heavy stone wall tremble. The red-gold-black cloud dissipated once it hit the others, but not before Belle felt the power in her very bones, vibrating and vicious. Wide-eyed, she looked down at Rumplestiltskin, who had been convulsing only a moment before but had now gone still.
"Rump—"
Her question cut itself off when blue light started crackling over his body. Rumplestiltskin winced, coughing sharply, before his expression went frighteningly still, and had he not let out a ragged breath, Belle might have worried that the magic had killed him. It did continue to spark its way what she could see of his body, flashing brilliantly in the dim light of the hut. However, as she watched, his breathing slowed and eased. The ever-present trembling calmed, too, and before Belle's shocked eyes, the bruises and the cuts on his face started knitting themselves together. One by one, almost as if she was watching the injuries happen in reverse, the wounds started to vanish. And the dried blood vanished with it.
A little color had even returned to his face by the time Regina, Tink, and Robin managed to stagger back over to where Belle still sat with Rumplestiltskin in her arms. He was still deathly pale, but Belle had a feeling that if she pulled back the blanket wrapped around him, Rumplestiltskin's other wounds would be closing as well. Her heart hammered in her chest, hopeful and terrified all at the same time. Minutes earlier, they'd been worried that he might die—but something was healing him. Had Tink done this? Holding her breath, she glanced up at the fairy and the sorceress, but they both seemed to be waiting, too. Waiting and hoping.
"I seem to be saying this a lot, but would someone care to explain what is going on?" Robin asked after several moments of silence.
"That isn't fairy magic," Regina replied.
"Definitely not," Tink agreed. "I didn't do this. And it's still…working."
Robin made a face at both magic users. "Fascinating though I'm sure that information is, it's not terribly useful for the laymen amongst us."
Part of Belle wanted to laugh; the rest of her wasn't sure if sobbing was more appropriate. Not knowing what was happening was terrifying, particularly as Rumplestiltskin's breathing quieted still further. Finally, the blue magic faded away, leaving him wearing an almost peaceful expression. Heart in her throat, she leaned over to plant another soft kiss on his forehead.
"Rumple?" Belle whispered.
His lips twitched slightly before his eyes opened, opened and not squinted, warm and brown and so very human. They were clear, too, not shadowed by pain or by the months of horrors he'd endured, and focused on her. "Hey."
"Hey yourself," Belle managed to say around a grin so big that her face hurt, and he smiled at her. Her heart did a backflip, giddy and painful and wonderful all at the same time.
Belle had forgotten that she was still holding his hand until his fingers tightened around hers, and now she had to blink back tears of happiness. Despite her efforts, a few escaped, trickling down her cheeks, warm and wet. Rumplestiltskin was alive. He was back, and even if she had a thousand and one questions for him—and she did, there was no doubt about that—he was going to live. Compared to that, nothing else mattered.
"Don't cry," Rumplestiltskin whispered, freeing a hand to touch her face. His voice still sounded rough, scratchier and deeper than usual, but it wasn't the high-pitched voice from the Enchanted Forest. He was still human.
"I'm crying because I'm happy, you idiot," she managed to respond as his fingers brushed against her cheek, and Belle leaned into his touch. His hand shook slightly, but it was whole, free of wounds and blood both.
"Well, I'm not unhappy," Rumplestiltskin quipped in response, and Belle's giggle sounded suspiciously like a sob. His hand cupped her cheek for a moment before falling again. She felt so happy that she could fly.
Regina, of course, ruined the moment with common sense.
"Some of us are still waiting for explanations, Rumplestiltskin," the queen said pointedly. "What the hell just happened?"
Belle felt him stiffen in her arms, blinking hard before he put on a lazy smile that she knew was an act. "Why, magic, of course."
"That's not helpful."
"Well, it appears that I am not quite as powerless as one might assume," Rumplestiltskin replied lightly, but Belle knew him well enough to know that there were legions of details he wasn't going into.
"How?" Regina demanded. "You said your curse was broken. Did you lie?"
"I wouldn't be looking like this if I had, dearie." The words came out with something like his old snarkiness, but Belle could feel the tension in him as Rumplestiltskin sat up, still wrapped in the blanket and nothing else. "But three centuries of studying magic does come in useful at times."
"What was that?" Tink put in, studying Rumplestiltskin with an intensity that set Belle's teeth on edge. Of course she could tell that Rumplestiltskin was skirting the truth with his typical aplomb, but the expression on Tinker Bell's face told her that the fairy was also suspicious.
"Magic. What else?"
"That wasn't normal magic," the fairy persisted, and Belle thought she felt a tremor race through Rumplestiltskin's shoulders.
He sneered, making Belle remember that there were some things she really hadn't missed about Rumplestiltskin. "It's always nice to have the opinion of a fairy."
"Rumple," she admonished him, but Tink didn't even blink.
"What was that?" Tinker Belle repeated very slowly, fingering her wand. Rumplestiltskin, however, merely chuckled, but this time Belle did feel him shake, ever so slightly.
"Ah. Well, I'm afraid I shall have to put off answering your questions until another day. For now, we need to concentrate on getting out of here, because believe me when I say that none of us want to be around when your distant relatives return."
"The fae have been gone for centuries," Regina objected, but even she didn't sound so certain now.
"Believe it or not as you please, but I assure you that my…hosts were definitely fae," Rumplestiltskin replied, and Belle watched his face tighten and his eyes shut for a moment. She squeezed the hand she still held, moving her other hand to his back to offer support, and Rumplestiltskin smiled sardonically as his eyes opened once more. "And they'll be back before too long. We don't want to be here then."
"You'd prefer to run rather than fight?" Regina said dubiously, and there wasn't a soul in the room who didn't think she was baiting him. "That doesn't sound like the Rumple I know."
He rolled his eyes. "Good try, dear, but in case you never noticed it about me, I'd prefer to think my way out of a situation instead of using raw power to solve my problems. That's always been your specialty."
The queen shrugged, unrepentant. "I had to try."
"And are you convinced now that I am who I say I am?"
"I suppose there's no one else who could be as completely maddening as you are," she retorted, and Belle felt him chuckle softly again.
Why did she get the impression that he was laughing because it was expected, and not because he found any genuine humor in their conversation? Rumplestiltskin had always enjoyed his verbal sparring with Regina, but now Belle got the feeling that he was doing so because he felt he ought to, rather than because he wanted to. Perhaps because they expected it?
Still, even if he was acting a bit off, Belle knew the infuriating man well enough that he'd get up and prance around naked if she didn't remind him about his current state of undress. Knowing Rumplestiltskin, he'd forgotten that he didn't have any clothes on, but he'd be mortified if he let Regina see him so vulnerable. He'd brush it off with some clever quip, of course, because he was nothing if not a genius at hiding his own feelings behind nasty humor, behind the mask of the monster. But in the end he'd be furious at himself for the oversight.
"Rumple," she whispered into his ear, quietly enough that the others couldn't hear, leaning close to his shoulder and stopping him before he could start to get up. "You haven't got any clothes on."
He turned to look at her, their faces so close that she could kiss him, and Belle could see him wanting to deny the fact that he'd forgotten all about that problem plain as day on his face. But then he smiled tiredly. "What would I do without you?"
"Feel a terrible draft," she replied with a grin, unable to bite back her giggles.
A long second passed before Rumplestiltskin chuckled with her, though at least this time his laugh sounded more natural. Belle wasn't sure which one of them moved towards the other first, but after a moment their foreheads were touching, and she closed her eyes, savoring the closeness. Belle felt his tiny smile. "So I would."
Pulling his left hand away from her right, Rumplestiltskin twirled his fingers just so, and the blanket he'd been wrapped in shimmered into red smoke, surrounding them both. As the smoke dissipated, it left him clad in very familiar clothing. The leathers weren't the black Belle remembered seeing him come back from Neverland, however; they were the warm browns she recalled from her time in the Dark Castle, from his leather pants and high boots to the dragonhide coat. The old look contrasted a little oddly with the new human face, but Belle supposed that a three-piece suit wouldn't have fit in very well in the Enchanted Forest, anyway.
Besides, she had missed the old smell of leather and the slight tingle under her fingers when she touched him, the underlying feeling of power and mystery. There was something intoxicating about that power and always had been, and even though Belle did her best to encourage him to be a better man, to be the man she'd always seen hidden beneath the darkness, she knew the power was a part of him, too. Tinker Bell had been right, however; even Belle could feel that this wasn't normal magic. There was something…different about him. Was it fact that he was finally free of his curse, or was it something else entirely?
She'd ask him later. Privately, where his desire to keep Regina and anyone else guessing couldn't get in the way of honesty. Now, she just smiled. "Much better."
"Indeed it is." Rumplestiltskin rose and Belle stood with him, noticing that he was slightly shaky but hiding it well. Still, the lines around his eyes were deeper than usual, and she could feel the slight tremble when she took his right hand. But he turned to the others with something like his old confidence. "I believe thanks are in order, to all of you. You saved my life."
Regina blinked, but Belle still heard the odd edge in Rumplestiltskin's voice. Ask later, she told herself, trying not to worry. Of course he'd be a little off. He'd been tortured for a year. The better question was how he was acting so normally.
He wasn't, of course. This was just another mask he could hide behind, but he seemed to know what Belle was thinking, because a squeeze of her hand cut Belle off before she could say anything.
"Are you actually expressing gratitude?" Regina asked, but Belle could hear no ire in her words. Like Belle, the queen was probably trying to fill the awkward silence with something familiar.
"Don't get too used to it," he retorted. Surprisingly, Regina grinned, but she didn't get a chance to respond before Robin spoke up warily:
"Uh. So this is…?" Judging from Robin's face, he clearly knew the answer to his question, uncomfortable though that made him. Still, remembering the circumstances of their last meeting, Belle supposed she couldn't blame the outlaw.
"Rumplestiltskin," her love provided succinctly.
Robin blinked. "About before…"
Rumplestiltskin waved a hand, cutting him off. "Bae told me."
"That's it?" The outlaw stared.
"Would you prefer there to be something more?" he countered, and Belle was gratified to see his eyes actually dancing with real humor. "I can turn you into something small and crawly if you like."
"No!" Robin looked horrified even as Regina snarled:
"Don't you dare, Rumplestiltskin."
Belle almost opened her mouth to explain the interesting Regina-Robin relationship, but when Regina stepped protectively close to the outlaw, she saw there was no need. Rumplestiltskin's gaze darted between the two momentarily, and a sly smile crossed his face. "Is that how it is, then?"
"Do you have a problem with that?" Regina demanded.
"Oh, no. No problem at all." His face became the picture of innocence, and Belle shot him a stern look. He was playing with people again, and while she was quite certain Regina could handle herself, poor Robin was another matter.
"Be nice," she said.
Rumplestiltskin turned his head to look at her. "I shall be on my best behavior," he promised.
"You'd better," Belle whispered, and felt his hand squeeze hers again. She'd take him however she found him, of course; having thought she lost Rumplestiltskin really did make her inclined to forgive even his most grievous faults, and well, he hadn't turned Robin into something nasty, and obviously hadn't even meant the threat. The next words came out before she could stop them. "Can I kiss you here?"
She burned to, of course, and he said his curse was broken. He looked human enough, and his skin felt human under her fingers, but there was obviously something Rumplestiltskin wasn't saying, and she wasn't about to rob him of his power simply because she wanted a kiss. Belle had been a foolish girl back when she'd thought kissing him could free him of the darkness that gripped his soul without impacting anything else; she'd never even thought that doing so might make him lose his magic and the chance to find the son he'd lost. Back then, she'd thought True Love could cure anything. Now, Belle understood that all magic did come with a price, even that.
"Of course," he replied just as softly, and Belle eagerly complied, her free hand coming up to bury itself in his hair as their lips touched.
Killian had hopedthe kiss would work, but at heart, he was a practical man. He had a romantic streak a mile wide, yes, but he was also a pirate, and pirates dealt in what worked, not what they hoped would do the trick. So, he'd made alternate plans. Had they sent Baelfire, the younger man might have been foolish enough to depend upon True Love's kiss releasing Emma's trapped memories, but Killian Jones was made of sneakier stuff than that. So he befriended young Mr. Mills (fascinated though he was by the fact that he was Henry Swan in this world), and waited.
Two weeks into their acquaintance, his patience bore fruit. Apparently this Henry had the same liking for parks that the one in Storybrooke had possessed—Regina had been spot-on with that assessment—and thus Killian found himself sitting with the lad in Central Park while Emma was off at work. She'd done quite well for herself in the last year, and part of him regretted interfering in the life she'd built with her son, but it was all a lie, and the pair of them deserved the truth.
He had always possessed an odd sense of honor for a pirate, Killian supposed. Here he was, doing the right thing and working to restore Emma's memories, when a proper rogue would simply try to sweep her off her feet and join her and Henry in their life here. Not that trying to do so didn't have its own temptations—for one, he rather appreciated the way women commonly wore such tight trousers in this world, and Killian particularly appreciated Emma in such trousers—but he was here for a reason. Emma had spent a lifetime looking for her family, and her family needed her now. They were all in danger, and if bringing the Savior back couldn't help them win this war, Killian couldn't think of anything else that might.
"Have you ever wondered if there's something not quite right about your life, mate?" Killian asked Henry as the thirteen year old boy absentmindedly threw stale bread at birds.
"Sometimes. Yeah, I guess," Henry replied, scoring another point for Regina. The queen had said that it would be Henry who would know something was wrong, not because she'd given him less complete memories, but because Henry always noticed.
"What if I told you're not wrong?"
Henry shot him the kind of doubting look only a child could manage. "You can't tell me that my dreams are real. They're all about fairy tales."
"Well, fairies are certainly real, though they don't have tails," Killian replied with a smile, earning himself another dirty look.
"Never mind," Henry snapped. "I don't know why I'm telling you this, anyway. They're only dreams."
"But they aren't." Killian had to speak quickly; he knew he was losing the boy already. Henry was far more open-minded than his mother, but just as stubborn. Henry stood up, ready to leave, and Killian blurted out the next words. "My left hand is fake."
"What?" At least that made the boy turn to look at him.
"Fake. I usually wear a hook, but it's not really fashionable in this world. Not like it is at home, anyway."
Henry stared at him, and oh, yes. That trick always worked on children. They were always fascinated by the hook. Not that he'd used it on any children, other than as a conversation gambit, or as a bit of a distraction. He wasn't that type of pirate, thank you very much.
"Tell me, Henry. Do you have dreams of an Evil Queen who cast a curse, sending people from various 'fairy tales' to this world?" He was guessing, based solely on what Henry had said about fairy tales and dreams, but it must have been a good guess, because Henry's eyes went wide.
That, and Regina had said that their real memories might just manifest themselves as dreams, if they were present at all in this new world. Score two for Regina, apparently. The lovely queen would never let him live this one down. I really do hate it when she's right. Regina would be insufferable for weeks, but at least enduring her gloating would be worth it. Hopefully.
"How do you know?" Henry asked, sitting down so fast that Killian worried he might break the park bench.
He smiled his best roguish smile. "Because I've lived them, mate."
After that, and some more explanations, it was child's play to convince young Henry to slip the Blue Fairy's potion into a drink for himself and his mother after Emma got off work that day. Killian swore that the potion would do them no harm, of course—it wouldn't; had he or someone else drank it, it would have just tasted like slightly salty water—and Henry decided to trust him after Killian demonstrated that fact by imbibing some of the aforementioned potion. Emma had always been a skeptic, so it had been easy to convince the Blue Fairy to mix up a little extra in case she needed convincing.
Henry promised to slip his mother the potion that evening—some things about the lad never did seem to change, but knowing his maternal grandparents the way Killian now did, he supposed it wasn't such a surprise. So, Killian walked the boy home and settled in across the street of the Swans' apartment building to wait until Henry waved at him from the window. Soon enough he'd restore their memories, and then he'd take them back to where they belonged. Assuming Emma didn't get irrational and dig her heels in, of course. But he could deal with her at her worst; he'd done so before and was almost looking forward to another round.
Hopefully, he'd win Miss Swan's heart in the process. Fighting with her usually did do the trick.
Had Belle's hand touched the back of his neck a moment earlier, Rumplestiltskin might have pulled away from her entirely. Too many memories of pain started with a hand on the back of his neck, with her speaking softly in his ear, speaking words that made no sense even in the context of his befuddled mind. Belle didn't know that, of course, and he couldn't blame her for his own mostly-irrational fears, but her gentle touch still almost made him jerk away. Had her lips not touched his within a second of her hand reaching his neck, he wouldn't have been able to stop himself from flinching away.
But their kiss did stop him.
It wasn't just that he needed her desperately, much though he did. It wasn't just that thinking of her had kept him sane when he'd been able to think, and it wasn't just because he loved Belle so much that it hurt. No. It was True Love's kiss.
Power whipped through him like electricity, lighting every sense of magic that he had on fire. Sheer, pure magic raced through his system, burning away the darkness that she had so carefully imbedded. Rumplestiltskin hadn't even known that the traps were there, hadn't had long enough with these confusing new powers—because despite what he'd said to Regina, he had no idea where this came from—to understand that she had dug her claws, her magic, into his very soul. One kiss from Belle was enough to burn that darkness away. It was enough to make him tremble against her, feeling weak and strong all at the same time. And even pushing that realization aside, the power singing through him was extraordinary.
He'd only felt this once, and had cut it short, terrified and lonely and so certain it had to be a lie. Certain that no one could love him. Maybe his curse had only strengthened his fears then; maybe it hadn't. But now Rumplestiltskin could close his eyes and relax, could accept the fact that Belle loved him the way he loved her, could hold her and know that this was real.
"There's endless possibilities. Countless paths you might take," Belle had said to him back in Storybrooke, back before everything went straight to hell and when they'd thought they might have everything.
He'd smiled at her, feeling at peace for the first time in his very long life. "But there's only one of those paths I'm interested in."
"And which one is that?"
"The one where you and I are together." It was as true then as it was did make him stronger. But more than that, she brought him peace.
Maybe he did have a future now. Pan certainly had been his undoing—but perhaps that didn't mean his death, much though he'd expected it to. Rumplestiltskin was no longer the Dark One; his curse was broken, and yet he was in possession of a new and frightening magic, one that had ripped into him and healed him when he hadn't the capacity to do it himself (or even the knowledge that he could touch magic; until it had suddenly raced through him, Rumplestiltskin had considered himself completely blind in that respect). The fact that he had no idea what or where this new magic would take him was more than a little unsettling, but he did know that wherever his life became, he wanted to share it with her.
Belle sighed softly against his lips, and Rumplestiltskin smiled. She buried her head against his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close. "I missed you so much," Belle whispered.
"And I you," he breathed. Her hair smelled wonderful, and holding her felt like coming home. And perhaps it was.
They stood in silence for several long moments, just clinging to one another, before Regina cleared her throat. Part of Rumplestiltskin was tempted to flat out ignore his old student, but he knew that doing so was foolish at the moment. Letting Regina know how emotionally wrecked he was would only give her an advantage, and although they'd been allies as of late, he had no intention of granting her that type of hold over him. Old habits died hard.
Swallowing back his regret, Rumplestiltskin pulled back from Belle, giving her a small smile as he did so. She returned it, immediately slipping her right hand into his left and squeezing lightly.
She knew him too well, Rumplestiltskin realized, not for the first time. Belle's blue eyes read his soul as easily as they read any one of her many books, but she was refraining from asking right now, for which he was exceedingly grateful. Belle wouldn't let him keep secrets forever, and he liked to think that he knew better than to try to keep important matters from her. Of course, he was Rumplestiltskin, and he wasn't particularly good about learning crucial emotional lessons, and when he did, they didn't seem to stick. Still, he had tried to promise them both that he'd listen to her from now on, and he meant to keep that promise.
"Now what?" Belle asked him.
Regina and her outlaw were looking at him expectantly, too. Back from the supposedly dead for all of a few hours, and somehow I'm in charge, he thought with a more natural feeling crooked smile. Perhaps if he pretended he was all right long enough, truth might follow the lie. Fabulous.
"Now we get out of here," he replied decisively, and was glad to see that no one argued. Rumplestiltskin looked at Robin Hood. "How many men do you have with you?"
"Nine," the outlaw replied promptly. "Ten, now, counting you."
A bemused smile snuck onto his face as Rumplestiltskin nodded, realizing that he was missing some crucial information. "And, uh, where exactly are we?"
"You don't know?" Regina asked with surprise.
"This is the first time I've seen anywhere other than that cellar in…how long has it been?"
"A year," Belle answered him softly. "Almost exactly."
One year. Rumplestiltskin's mind wanted to fold in on itself, wanted to find a corner to hide in and scream out the pain and the terror. He'd been there a year. The thought alone made his heart beat faster, and it could feel it trying to spiral out of control. Thump. An entire year had passed. Thump. Thump.
Oh. That thrumming wasn't just his heart; it was magic, potent and strong, hammering alongside his emotions and threatening to escape his control. Forcing in a deep breath, Rumplestiltskin shoved his worries and fears aside, shoved away the memories of pain and forced himself to focus, clinging to Belle's hand. It was almost like the early days of the curse, when he knew nothing about magic and had to fight to contain his emotions, lest he unconsciously lash out with powers he could not control. Magic was emotion, he'd taught all of his students, having learned those lessons himself the hard way. Slowly, carefully, he let the breath out. He would not go through that again. Not here. Not now.
"I see," he forced himself to say levelly. Forced the magic back into its bottle. And then he made his fingers loosen on Belle's so that he didn't crush her smaller hand with his own. "So, Regina, you were about to tell me where we are."
"Bremen. About two weeks' journey from the Dark Castle. If you push it."
"I see." The name of the town rang a very vague bell, but it wasn't somewhere he'd been before, or at least not recently. Two weeks' of walking was a long time for the fae to catch up with them; that wouldn't do at all. And why had Regina used the Dark Castle as her landmark? There were too many factors that he couldn't classify; obviously a lot of things had happened during the last year, and he had absolutely no idea what was going on.
That was not a feeling he enjoyed.
"We're deep in the Witch's territory," Robin added.
"The Witch? Which witch?" That made him frown.
"The Wicked Witch of the West," Regina explained with a scowl. "From Oz, apparently. Or that's what the rumors say, anyway. Jefferson says he met her there, and the experience wasn't pleasant."
That title Rumplestiltskin recognized, at least. But he'd always been better with people than geography, particularly when the individuals in question were magic users worth keeping track of. "What in the world is Zelena doing here?"
"Zelena?" Belle echoed, just as Regina asked:
"You know her?"
"Of course I do."
Regina made an exasperated noise. "Well, we're at war with her. While we were gone, she managed to take over most of the Enchanted Forest. Somehow, she's gained dominion of the ogres and a host of other nasty creatures, and we're fighting to take each kingdom back bit by bit."
"Fascinating."
"Is that all you have to say?" Robin demanded, looking offended. "We're in the middle of a war we're losing. Countless people are dying and you find it fascinating?"
Hero types. Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes and immediately regretted doing so as his head started to pound. There's time for that later. Focus! With an effort, he managed to make his voice sound dispassionate. "No, I find it fascinating because Zelena doesn't have the power to pull that off on her own. Someone or something else is behind her."
"Is this where you're going to go on about the fae again? Because we really don't have any evidence that they're alive, let alone working with the Witch," Regina cut in impatiently.
"That was dark fairy magic," Tinker Bell pointed out. "That usually means the fae."
"No, it means someone using a fae's wand," Regina corrected her. "Why would the fae bother to show up after hiding for centuries, only to work with the Wicked Witch of the West? It doesn't make any sense." She shot Rumplestiltskin a glare. "That's something he would know if he wasn't so off his head at the moment."
But there was something he was missing. Something he should know, but couldn't begin to put his finger on. His mind was still too muddled, so Rumplestiltskin just waved Regina's protests away with an irritated shake of his head. "I'm not going to argue with you right now, Regina. In fact—"
Without warning, a man burst into the stone hut, disheveled and panicked. He was dressed in forest greens, armed with a sword and bow both, somewhat dirty but not ill-kept. Another outlaw, then. He was graying slightly, long-limbed and built more like an archer than a swordsman, and pulled up short when he saw an unexpected fourth person in the hut.
"What is it, Alan?" Robin asked, jerking the newcomer out of his shock.
"I don't know," Alan replied, staring warily at Rumplestiltskin. "There's something in the sky. Something coming. It's like black clouds covering up the stars and—"
Shoving past him and out the door, Rumplestiltskin never heard the rest of the description. Regina was right on his heels, obviously thinking along the same lines, and they emerged from the hut to see a distant, distinctly magical cloud formation rolling over the forest and heading towards Bremen. Fast.
"A curse?" Regina asked as the others tumbled out of the hut.
He shook his head. "Nothing so complicated as that, I think. You don't need a curse when raw power will suffice." Rumplestiltskin glanced up at the sky, pushed his inner demons aside as he felt power and awareness shimmering through his veins, and knew the answer. "Raw power bent on the destruction of everyone and everything here."
A/N:Wow! Thank you for the fantastic reviews for this chapter. I'm glad that readers are enjoying themselves—I certainly am enjoying writing this story. The question leading into the next chapter is: Where do you think Rumplestiltskin's magic came from?
Stay tuned for Chapter 6: "Power over Distance", in which Hook finds Emma a second time, the Black Fairy's magic arrives in Bremen, and David and Baelfire continue to wage the war against the Witch.