Chapter Twenty—"Into the Tempest"

Emma needed some air. They'd seemed to go from one crisis to another back in Storybrooke, but this was pure insanity. She'd been back for around two months, and aside from walking in circles while trying to rescue Regina, there'd hardly been a moment's peace. Oh, the few days around Graham's birth had seemed like a nice break, but then things had only gotten crazier. Sucked out of their normal lives and into a war, she and Henry were still a bit off balance, and although she absolutely hated to admit it, Emma was probably taking it worse than her teenaged son. Henry had always been adaptable, though. Otherwise, how could he handle having two mothers (one of which was also his adopted step-grandmother), a potential adopted stepbrother due to the outlaw who was making a fair bid to become his adopted stepfather, and a father who his birth mother didn't know what to do with? Oh, and there was Hook, who was attempting to become father number three for Henry, as if that didn't complicate things even further.

Groaning, Emma sat down on a fair sized rock that she'd found out by a little pool in the garden. Some sort of yellow fish swam around in the pond, but Emma had never been the fish type; they were pretty and distracting, however, so she watched them and let her mind wander.

The last two weeks had been wild. Calm on the war front—until the duel, anyway—but an emotional whirlwind that threatened to sweep her away. Henry was so damn happy having been reunited with everyone that Emma couldn't regret coming back, but she was still trying to figure out how to cope. Her parents were wonderful, as always (overbearing, trying to make her into a Princess, and a giant font of love and acceptance), but that ache she'd been feeling in her heart hadn't vanished. Just over a year ago, she'd yelled at Hook and Neal and told them that Henry was the only man she had room for in her heart. Then she'd watched Regina, of all people, find that insane storybook love that her parents shared, and Emma hadn't been the same ever since.

Two weeks in the same castle with Hook and Neal—Baelfire—hadn't helped matters. Hook was a constant presence, a sexy shadow ready to be there whenever she wanted him. Bae was less bedroom eyes and more easygoing, a friendly ear for a chat or a shoulder to punch when she was frustrated. Emma remained attracted to Hook (or Killian, as he kept telling her to call him) but wasn't sure how comfortable she was with him. She was certainly comfortable with Neal, and always had been, but she wasn't sure she wanted to admit that she was attracted to him, too. But he'd always been handsome, and damn if the leather breeches and fairytale clothing didn't suit him far better than t-shirts and jeans ever had.

"A penny for your thoughts, Princess?" an ethereal voice suddenly inquired, and Emma's head snapped up just in time to see a glowing blue moth turn into a woman whose clothing was far less modest here than it ever had been when she was playing at being a nun.

"Don't call me that," she snapped before she could stop herself.

"Forgive me," Blue replied, smiling gently. "I only wished to speak to you in private."

Emma tried not to growl out loud. The Blue Fairy hadn't shown herself even once during the last few weeks, and Tink had never heard of the whole Heart of the Truest Believer thing, other than from Pan in Neverland. Emma was probably the least well suited person to deal with the damn fairy at the moment; she only knew what Regina and the others had told her, and she found herself missing the Evil Queen intensely in that moment. Then again, Regina would probably have tried to kill Blue, and although Emma certainly shared that urge, she knew her own mother had a point when it came to making peace with the fairy. They were in the middle of a war, and needed all the help they could get—but not if it came at the price Blue seemed willing to exact.

"If this is about Henry's heart, you can shove your arguments up your ass," she told the fairy bluntly. "No one is ripping my son's heart out ever again."

"I'm not here about that," Blue was quick to reassure her. "I was wrong to try to get Henry to leave with me in the way I did. I was simply worried for his safety, and I overreacted. Of course he will be safe here."

The words were right, but something in the delivery wasn't jiving. Narrowing her eyes, Emma stood to look the fairy in the face. "Damn straight he will."

Hadn't her mother and Belle said something about the Blue Fairy possibly needing Henry's heart herself? Snow didn't want to believe it, of course, but Regina and Rumplestiltskin did, and Emma knew how trusting her mother was. But before she could bring that up, the fairy smiled gently and said:

"Actually, I am here for you, Emma. You wished upon a blue star on your twenty-eighth birthday, asking not to be alone any longer. I am here to lead you to what your heart most desires."

"You are?" Emma repeated dubiously. How does she know that? Then again, Blue was a fairy, and although Emma had only picked the blue star shaped candle because it looked neat, she supposed that an enterprising enough manipulator could twist it that way.

"Of course I am. Fairies are most concerned with helping people find their happy endings," Blue replied. "And I want to help you find yours. Consider this an apology for my conduct concerning Henry."

Emma frowned. "Right..."

Unfortunately, Blue seemed to take her sarcastic comment as an invitation to preach.

"You will find happiness, Emma. I know the longing in your heart, but it will not last forever. You have spent most of your life alone, but there is a man who can heal the wounds you try to pretend you do not have," the fairy told her earnestly. "A broken heart can mend with time, and you will find love."

"If you're just going to mouth useless platitudes at me, go bother someone else," Emma retorted when the empty drivel trailed off. "Because unless you're going to pull a Tink and use pixie dust to show me where my future happiness lies, I can't see this conversation going anywhere useful."

"I don't need pixie dust to tell you where love will fall, child."

"Then spit it out, will you? It's getting cold out here, and I'm new at the whole needing a cloak thing," she shot back.

Blue seemed to be taken aback by Emma's bluntness. Again. Good! "Your heart already knows," she replied after a moment. "All you must do is be brave enough to embrace the love you already feel—and strong enough to resist darkness when it beckons you."

"Darkness?" Emma echoed dubiously. "Now what are you on about?"

"You cannot trust a man who has been surrounded by darkness for most of his life, or one who comes from a long line of dark beings."

Those words brought Emma's hackles up instinctively. She'd been willing to put up with Blue's holier-than-thou and know-it-all attitude until now, but the fairy had just gone from useless to annoying. And manipulative. She felt her back straighten as her eyes narrowed, and Emma skewered Blue with a glare. "You're talking about Neal."

"Baelfire, yes," the fairy corrected her knowingly. "He will try to win your heart, Emma, but you must not trust him. He—"

"Is Henry's father. Are you saying I shouldn't trust Henry because Rumplestiltskin's his grandfather and Pan was his great-grandfather?" Emma cut her off.

"Of course not. I am simply warning you that there are great powers working here, and that Baelfire has long been the driving force behind his father's darkness. You cannot afford to be pulled into that tempest. You are the Savior."

"You know, I think you can shut up now." Emma tried to stuff her hands into her pockets only to discover that she didn't have any, a stupid little thing that only made her temper burn hotter. "I didn't ask you for relationship advice, and I sure as hell didn't ask you to talk trash about my son's father. Or his grandfather, for that matter. I might not always like Rumplestiltskin, but he's done a lot more for us lately than you have, so when you're ready to start helping instead of heaping on useless advice, just let us know. Until then, get lost."

Blue reared back as if struck, her brown eyes wide and shocked. Emma only grinned nastily at her, and crossed her arms, daring the fairy to tell her she was wrong. This is my life, Emma wanted to snarl, but didn't bother. The Blue Fairy wasn't about to listen to her on that front, not if her idea of helping was mouthing useless platitudes about love that could apply to anyone—not just Hook, no matter what Blue obviously wanted Emma to think—so Emma wasn't going to bother trying to talk to the stuck up woman. Fairy. Thing.

My life, she thought again. Try to warn me away from my son's father, do you? Bitch. What did Neal ever do to you?

"I only want to—"

"Get out of here," Emma repeated. "Or I'll go find Henry's grandfather and tell him that you're wandering around on his lands again. I bet he'd be happy to see you."

Blue left without a further word, and Emma found herself smiling. Maybe she'd just needed a good fight to help her figure things out. For some reason, she was starting to feel the same sort of malicious victory she'd felt when she'd used a chainsaw on Regina's prize apple tree back in Storybrooke, and the energy coursing through her veins was nice. She'd been off balance for too long. Maybe it was time to get back to who Emma Swan had always been: caustic, straightforward, and willing to fight for what she believed in. Casting the fish one last glance, she headed back into the castle and decided to take her fate into her own hands.

Screw wishing on a blue star. I know what I want. It's time I stopped fighting myself.

"She's gone," he said quietly, his mind drifting absently across threads of power. Rumplestiltskin had not been expecting Reul Ghorm to arrive in the courtyard of his castle, and when his wards had alerted him of the fairy's presence—which she didn't manage to hide, no matter how well concealed she clearly thought she was—he'd kept a magical eye on her, just to be sure. Rumplestiltskin had never trusted her, of course, but the jumbled up mix of memories inside his head brought with them an entirely different set of emotions where the Blue Fairy was concerned, which only made him more wary. Merlin really had trusted people far too easily.

But Reul Ghorm had left after speaking to Emma for a few minutes, and now he could breathe a little easier.

"Good," Belle replied with more relish than he'd expected. Then again, Belle was still furious about what the Blue Fairy clearly intended to use Henry for, and Rumplestiltskin knew that much of her anger stemmed from the fact that Blue was supposed to be good.

On the 'right' side, she claims, he thought with a sneer. Define 'right,' dearie.

"Can she break through the magic you put on Henry?" Belle asked softly when he didn't respond.

"Not without a lot longer to work than I'll give her." Rumplestiltskin smiled tightly. "I cast a few other protection spells on Henry yesterday, and woe to the fool who tries to harm him."

"That's where you went after the duel."

He smiled wryly. "Did you think I was sneaking around behind your back?"

Belle laughed. "Never."

"Because you're the only one who'd have me," he murmured, leaning into kiss her lightly and marveling at the fact that this extraordinary woman loved him. Him, despite his flaws, the evil deeds of his past, and the many morally questionable things he was still willing to do. Free of the curse or not, Rumplestiltskin knew he'd never be a pillar of goodness or decency; at best, he was trying to do the right thing for the right reasons, and using whatever methods he thought suited the situation.

"Then everyone else is a fool," she replied with a smile, but then sobered. "Honestly, I thought you might have wandered off to work out more of those memories. Or on the magic."

Grimacing, Rumplestiltskin had to admit she wasn't far from the truth. While the Charmings (and their extended family) had celebrated the birth of their second child and rejoiced in the war's sudden pause, Rumplestiltskin had done nothing of the sort. He'd spent two weeks sorting through the mess within his own mind, imposing order on memories not his own and powers that he still found vaguely terrifying. In the midst of that, he'd learned that Snow White planned on holding a traditional christening ceremony for the new prince, which left him to reinforce the wards and defenses on the castle yet again. And redouble his efforts to understand this strange and bottomless power that he now possessed.

He thought he'd managed, now. His initial instincts concerning the price had been accurate, and little though he liked that, it was now a fact of his life. Unavoidable. He could do more than ever before, and magic on this scale simply demanded a commiserate price, not the trivial pittances he'd been able to slake the darkness with. Much though he preferred to pass the price of magic onto others, he no longer could do so most of the time. This, Rumplestiltskin had to pay himself by being that which the magic demanded he be.

Sometimes he thought it would have been easier to live without his magic than to live with this, but who would he be then? Without magic he would have been nothing. At least this gave him a purpose.

"I'm done with that," Rumplestiltskin answered the unspoken question. "I may not like every bit of it, but I do understand what's happened. And I'm not possessed by anything, either. Or anyone."

"I never thought you were." Belle's smile was a balm for his wounds, and gave him the strength to admit:

"I wasn't so sure."

"Rumple…" Already sitting next to him, Belle snuggled up close, wrapping an arm around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder. Rumplestiltskin wrapped his left arm around her shoulders in return and closed his eyes, allowing himself to breathe in the sense of peace she always gave him. They sat in silence for several minutes while he struggled to find words to explain his misgivings, and Belle gave him the time he needed.

"There have been moments," he finally said, "when I wasn't so sure that the choices I was making were my own. If this new magic could drive me the way the curse used to be able to, or if I was actually deciding to be something…different than I was. Having Merlin's memories rattling around in my head didn't help, either." Rumplestiltskin snorted. "Particularly given that he was the sword-swinging, self-sacrificing hero type that I've always mocked."

"And now?"

"They're only memories. I can push them aside as easily as I can any of the others I inherited with the curse. Oh, there are elements of Merlin in the magic, but the Black Fairy destroyed him far too thoroughly for anything stronger to remain. She"—and here his voice cracked, remembering his own pain as well as the pain of a phantom long dead—"took thirty years to torture him into insanity, and then she shaped him. Bit by bit."

Belle squeezed his waist tightly. "That's horrible."

"He was her friend. Probably her only friend." Isolation like that was something he knew too well, but even at his darkest moments, Rumplestiltskin would never have been able to betray someone he cared for. After all, even after he'd realized what Belle meant to him, he'd driven Regina to cast the Dark Curse. Even though he could have done it himself by using her heart.

He'd always been defined by who he loved, even now when he was in the midst of becoming something new. For them.

"What happened?" Belle had read the Historie, of course, and she knew what Rumplestiltskin had already told her, but he had a sense that Belle was asking how then related to now, and where this put the two of them in the ancient war that seemed to be rearing its ugly head once more. He'd told Regina to deal with the Witch because Rumplestiltskin knew that the real conflict lay elsewhere.

Taking a deep breath, Rumplestiltskin explained:

"After the other three human Original Powers died, the uneasy peace between the Reul Ghorm and Danns' a'Bhàis' held for years. Centuries, maybe?" He shook his head, watching memories streak by like scenes out of a particularly foggy movie. "The details are still unclear. Merlin had held them to it, though. Then the Black Fairy had betrayed him, warped him, changed him, and thirty years later, the first Dark One rose. Eighteen others followed, each unknowingly carrying within them Merlin's power because he tied it to the curse. And then I came along."

"And you broke the curse." Belle kissed him lightly, and Rumplestiltskin felt the magic surge within him. Not for the first time, he wondered how differently things might have gone if he'd allowed Belle to break his curse in the Enchanted Forest. But wondering what might have been would only cripple him, so Rumplestiltskin pushed past the thought.

"Yeah." Visions danced through his mind, forcing him to clamp down on his own Sight. That power could be a true nuisance sometimes, but it was one he was stuck with. "The interesting thing, Belle, is that Merlin wasn't a Seer. But I think he knew that the curse would someday be broken. So here I am, filling his shoes."

"Because you have to, or because you want to?"

He grimaced. "Because I don't have a choice. Much though I'd like to throw them all out and tell them to fend for themselves, the balance of power here in the Enchanted Forest is shifting. Danns' a'Bhàis' willremain free because there's no way Reul Ghorm is getting Henry's heart, and that means that someone has to keep the two of them from tearing the Enchanted Forest apart between them—and all of us with it. I just hope someone appreciates the cosmic irony of that someone being me."

If his voice grew sing-songy and self-loathing on that last sentence, Belle did not comment. Instead, she kissed him on the forehead.

"I told you that your heart was true."

Someone who knew him less well might have said something foolish like I told you you were a good man, to which he could have replied that he wasn't, but Belle wasn't so idealistic. She truly did love him for what he was, and she understood that this wasn't easy. Stepping up and taking responsibility had never been something Rumplestiltskin had been good at; he'd always manipulated others into taking on those roles. Yet here he was, willing to stand in the midst of the storm and demand that it stop. Because if he didn't, no one would, and Rumplestiltskin had to live in this world, too. And so did his family. He might be able to survive whatever the two fairies threw at one another, but Belle, Bae, and Henry—and by extension, all the others who had somehow become extended family—wouldn't. And that was where he drew the line.

For him, it would never be about doing the right thing, much though the magic might demand that kind of price. For Rumplestiltskin it would always be about protecting those he loved.

"Everything all right, love?" Hook asked the morning after the Blue Fairy tried to warn Emma away from Baelfire, and she turned to give the pirate a long look.

"Fine," Emma replied shortly, not knowing why the very familiar address got under her skin. Perhaps it was a direct result of her mother's most recent lecture on acting like a princess—delivered just an hour earlier—or maybe it was because of the way Hook leaned in to speak to her, as if he was whispering sweet nothings in her ear instead of making legitimate conversation. Not for the first time, Emma felt shame tighten her insides; magic or no, how could she have let herself lose control like she had in the forest? She wasn't sure she'd ever be able to look at Hook without remembering the wild feeling of lust and not-quite-right.

It wasn't fair to Hook, she knew, but how else was she supposed to feel? Even now the pirate captain was looking at her with confusion, clearly wondering why Emma was so irritated with him.

"Everything's fine," she repeated more naturally. "It's just been a long morning." And only getting longer. She was due for a dress fitting, of all things, in just a few minutes, and Emma had hoped to have a few minutes to herself before the seamstresses attacked her. Had they been fitting her for anything less than her brother's christening, Emma would gladly have played hooky, but even Henry was getting new clothes for the occasion, and Emma wasn't going to snub little Graham like that.

"I'm sure it is, Emma," Hook replied dubiously, and then gave her a gentle smile. "If you need anything—or just someone to talk to—I'll always be willing to lend an ear."

She shook her head. "Right now I just need to go for a walk."

"Of course."

Gratefully, Emma swept by as Hook stepped out of her way, but this time she didn't head outside. She couldn't be certain that the Blue Fairy wouldn't accost her if she did, and Emma just wasn't up to fighting off that motherly manipulator at the moment. Instead, she headed deeper into the castle, not really paying attention to where her feet were taking her until she finally noticed that she was standing in front of a wooden door in the west wing. Had it been shut, she probably would have kept on walking, but since it was partially open, Emma found herself pushing the door aside and stepping in.

Her ex-boyfriend was reading a book, but he looked up when she barged in. "Hear you had a row with your mom," Neal commented.

Sighing, Emma plopped down on the bed next to him, surprised by how natural doing so felt. "She wants me to act like a princess."

"She's one to talk," he replied with a laugh. "Didn't Henry tell me that she met your dad by braining him with a rock?"

"Something like that." Emma couldn't help snickering as Neal put the book aside. "I have to get fitted for a dress. A huge dress, I'm sure. With hoops and corsets and everything."

"I really hope that you're wrong about multiple corsets," was the immediate response. "That could get painful."

She smacked him lightly on the shoulder as he made a face at her. "Shut up."

"I'm serious. I mean, it's not like I know much about fashions here in the Enchanted Forest—or about women's fashions anywhere, really—but that would have to suck."

"You're being ridiculous," Emma complained.

"It's what I'm good at," he shot back with a grin, and damn she remembered how that look used to be able to make her melt. Emma had been terribly in love with Neal Cassidy once, and if he hadn't sent her to jail at Pinocchio's bidding, she probably would have married him. Wouldn't that have made Henry's life different? But dwelling on what might have been had never been their style, which was probably why he continued lightly: "Seriously, though, it's not like you've never worn a dress before. You even look damn good in one. So why are you all worked up about it?"

Neal—Baelfire, Emma reminded herself for the thousandth time—really did still know her too well. She shrugged uneasily.

"It's just that they have all these crazy expectations," she finally answered, her voice quiet. "My mother was raised to be a princess. I ran away from three foster homes before they finally let me out of the system, and I met you when I stole the car you'd already stolen. I'm not princess material, even if I technically am one. I'm the sort that'll punch someone in the face before I curtsey to them, and I tried to shoot the first dragon I ever met. With a gun. I don't fit that mold, and everyone wants me to."

"So, what you're saying is that it's not the dress."

That made her hit him again, a little harder. Neal cringed and rubbed his shoulder as Emma grimaced. "Of course it isn't, you jerk."

"At least Graham's their heir now, right?" he asked.

"Him or Henry, I hope." Emma shrugged. "So long as it's not me. I'm really not suited to be a Queen. And at least I think I convinced my dad of that. My mother's another story."

"Stubborn does seem to run in your family," he teased, and Emma made another face at him.

"You're one to talk."

"We're the manipulative bastard types more than stubborn, actually," Neal countered cheerfully. "Took me awhile to embrace that, but hell. If you've got a skill, you should use it, right?"

"That means you're going to have to go back to the army soon, doesn't it?" Emma didn't know why that thought suddenly bothered her so much, but she'd spent a lot of time talking to Neal as she worked her way through the maelstrom of life in the Enchanted Forest. He'd been there for her during the duel, a solid presence that didn't demand anything out of Emma and just stood by her side when she needed someone. Emma had never wanted a man to treat her like she was made of glass, and there were times she sure as hell didn't want to admit that there was anything wrong. Sometimes she just wanted someone to be there and say nothing, and Neal was damn good at that.

"Sooner or later, yeah. Probably sooner."

"Oh." How had her voice turned so small on that word?

As usual, he countered her sudden attack of sadness with an ill-timed joke. "Ah, you know you'll miss me. When you're not romancing Hook."

"Neal!" Why was she turning red? Emma sputtered: "That wasn't me. That was magic. You know that."

"Robin said as much, yeah." Then he got a look at the mortified expression she had to be wearing, and relented. "I'm sorry. Bad joke. What I meant to say is that if you really want him, if Hook's the one you want to love, I'll get out of his way. I might not want to—and I'm sure as hell not going away, because Henry's my kid, too—but I'll step aside. If that's what you want."

"No." The single word answer came out a lot more forcefully than Emma intended it to, and she blinked. But she'd come here for a reason, hadn't she? So she blurted the next words out in a hurry before she could lose her nerve. "Apparently I need some sort of escort for this christening thing in two days."

"Yeah, I hear princesses aren't supposed to go stag," Neal quipped, and Emma resisted the urge to strangle him even as a smile crept onto her face. But she'd always appreciated his sense of humor more than anything, even when it was utterly irreverent.

"You want to go with me?"

There. She'd asked without dying of embarrassment.

But Emma didn't want to be alone, and she didn't want to spend the time being seduced or otherwise courted. She just wanted to be comfortable, to be with someone who understood her, who'd seen her at her worst and still loved her. Years of heartbreak told her that she didn't want to love Neal, but maybe it was time that she let that go. Maybe it was time that she remembered how he made her feel, and how horrible she'd felt when she thought Neal was dead. How it felt like a hole had been ripped in her heart that would never be filled, no matter how hard she fought for Henry, the kid they'd created with their love. She'd gone to Tallahassee, after all, and had spent two years hoping he'd show up.

This place doesn't look much like Florida, but why the hell not?

A slow smile was blooming on Neal's face in response to her question. Even as Emma's heart started beating faster, as fear that he might not want her any more started to take hold, the old, carefree grin appeared. He'd worn that smile while robbing convenience stores and sneaking into hotel rooms that weren't theirs, and when pretending Emma was pregnant and "rushing" her out of sticky situations. It was the grin she'd fallen in love with when he'd bamboozled that cop into thinking the car was his and he was trying to teach her to drive a stick, and Emma suddenly felt dizzy. Maybe, just maybe, home wasn't a place at all.

"I'd love to," Neal replied seriously, and Emma smiled back, feeling her heart flutter just a little.

A/N: So, a few answers here, and lots of Emma being Emma. To answer a few questions readers asked lately or ones I never provided answers for:

1. Sir Gingalain is the son of a fae and Sir Gawain. Some legends name his mother, others don't, but the important thing there is that the Buffalo-Leather Soldier was half-fae.

2. Rumplestiltskin did indeed inherit Merlin's power, since Merlin tied it to the curse of the Dark One. He couldn't use all of it as the Dark One, but now that the curse is broken, he's able to access the non-dark portions of that power.

3. All of the scenes in which we have seen the Blue Fairy thus far have indeed been Blue herself. No one has impersonated her—which isn't to say that someone might not in the future.

Thank you all again for sticking with me! Stay tuned for Chapter Twenty-One: "Dance of Life", in which the day of baby Graham's christening arrives. And I'm sure all my fairy tale readers know what an opportunity a christening usually is for evil—they like to show up and ruin the day. Guess which one shows up, and I'll give you a cookie. :)

One last note – if you haven't checked out my new one-shot, "Feed the Madness" and need some Rumplestiltskin post 3x13, please do!