Chapter Forty-One—"Checkmate"

Rumplestiltskin was gone.

For the second time, Belle watched her True Love vanish in a swirl of Dark Magic and was left grasping at thin air. But this time things were different. This time, Rumplestiltskin had not killed himself, had not disappeared in a swirl of brilliant white light that marked his self-sacrifice. Instead he'd been sucked up by a storm of black fairy dust, whisked away while Belle watched helplessly. Not this time! she thought desperately to herself, lunging forward into the cloud and grabbing for him. He'd apologized, which meant Rumplestiltskin knew something was happening—knowing him, he knew exactly what—but Belle had no idea what he was sorry for. Was this going to kill him? He had killed Norco, and then what? What had happened?

Whatever it was, Belle was not about to let her love face it alone. Not this time. This time she would not let him go. But Belle's hands closed on thin air even as she choked helplessly on fairy dust. The cloud was empty by the time she got there, and a cry ripped out of Belle, her memory full of standing on a Storybrooke street, watching Rumplestiltskin stab himself and Pan, watching her True Love kill himself—

"No…" But he was gone, and there was nothing she could do about it. Gone. "Oh, no. No, no no no…"

With an effort, she caught herself. She would not fall. She would not give in. If there was one thing Rumplestiltskin had taught her, it was never to assume someone was dead until you saw the body. And even then, what with the powerful types of curses that existed in the world, seeing a body didn't guarantee someone was dead. And she would have known if Rumple was dead. Her heart would have told her if that were so, because the horrible emptiness she remembered from losing her True Love wasn't present. In fact—

"Belle?" Snow asked her quietly, interrupting her devastated train of thought.

She would not cry, even if her heart wanted to break.

"Where did he go?" Ruby stepped forward to put a hand on her arm, looking worried.

"I don't know." Belle forced herself to take a deep breath, blinking back the tears that wanted to rise. You give me strength, Rumplestiltskin had once told her. He had the power, and Belle had the strength. She would be strong. She had to be. "I think…I think something pulled him away."

Snow and Ruby exchanged glances, but the queen was the one to voice the question: "Pulled away or killed? Could Norco have done something?"

"I think—"

"What's this?" Ruby interjected, drawing both Belle's and Snow's attention to a slip of paper on the ground, only inches away from her right foot. Had it been there the entire time? Slowly—holding her breath, although she did not know why—Belle bent to pick it up, feeling a slight tingle run up her arm as her fingers touched the parchment. Immediately, her heart leapt.

Belle would have known Rumplestiltskin's magic anywhere. She'd found it more difficult to recognize during her early days at the Dark Castle, but after living with him in Storybrooke and now, she knew it when she touched it. And this paper, this note, had been born of that magic. Slowly, with her hands trying to shake, Belle unfolded the note Rumplestiltskin had left behind. She knew at first glance that the note came from him; Belle knew that meticulous handwriting like the back of her own hand, and could even tell the difference between a note written with magic and one written by hand. This one had been created with magic only, and in a hurry. Belle swallowed hard. Rumple had only been able to say that he was sorry, but perhaps this note could tell her what for.

Belle—I am so sorry that I must allow this to happen. I will see you again, and sooner than you think. I promise. I love you—R.

"Is it from him, or did the fae drop it?" Ruby prompted her when Belle fell silent, reading the note over again. And then again.

"No, it's from Rumple. It's maddeningly unhelpful, but it's from him."

Still, Belle refolded the parchment and pressed it to her heart, imagining that she could feel the touch of his love on the paper. Rumplestiltskin had left this for her, despite whatever had happened to him. He'd left it so she wouldn't worry, and although that wouldn't work, at least Belle knew he wasn't dead. If he'd been dead, there would have been no time to leave a note, and that at least could give her hope. She had read a book back in Storybrooke that had said that the all human wisdom could be contained in the words wait and hope. So that she would have to do.

"What happened to him?" Snow wondered.

"I don't know," Belle answered honestly. "But I'm going to find out."

"What exactly is it that you want?" Jafar asked Regina when Will and Robin had gone off to hunt down something to shoot, cook, and eat (preferably in that order). That left her alone with the sorcerer-turned-genie for a rather overdue conversation.

Jafar had been strangely docile so far, but Regina could read men well enough to know that he was simply biding his time. The man who had successfully, if temporarily, changed the laws of magic was no fool. He was not the type to act rashly, and he was not going to antagonize Regina unless he thought he could get something out of it. In fact, he'd been entirely too polite so far, which only further riled Regina up—after this long in Wonderland, she was spoiling for a good fight. Unfortunately, Jafar didn't seem to want to pick that fight while she had his lamp, which said a lot for his intelligence level, but didn't exactly do much to calm Regina's strained temper.

So she gave him a mysterious smile. If he can annoy me, I can annoy him right back. "It's not what I want with you. I'm fetching you for someone else."

"Oh, are you? I didn't know that the Evil Queen was willing to play errand girl." His eyes twinkled; damn the man, he was clever. Those words were delivered perfectly to get right under her skin.

"When it gets me something I want, I'm willing to do a friend a favor," Regina snapped back.

"A friend, is it? And who might that be?" Jafar wondered, his eyes wandering over Regina suggestively.

Once, she might have taken his frank assessment as a compliment, or perhaps even an invitation. There was a time when the Evil Queen would have been rather eager to invite a powerful and attractive sorcerer into her bed—provided she got something useful out of it—but now she found the idea rather nauseating. Yes, Jafar was handsome and probably would make a powerful ally, but while she held his lamp, Jafar really had little choice in the matter. And if he figures out a way around that, and gets too frisky, I'll just rip his heart out. Still, that didn't mean she couldn't play with him a bit.

"Are you sensing competition?" Regina purred, stepping close to the taller man and giving him a coy smile. She'd never been terribly good a seduction, but Regina did know how to read people. And Jafar didn't seem to need much encouragement.

"Should I be?" he murmured back, working magic behind her back that the arrogant fool probably thought Regina wouldn't notice. Yet she'd been trained by someone far more thorough than him, and Regina hadn't survived years of being the Evil Queen because she'd been careless. No one, not even Rumplestiltskin had ever bested her through straight up magic, and Regina aimed to keep it that way.

Her bout with the Black Fairy didn't count. The Black Fairy wasn't human, and Regina had still done better than any sorceress in history against her. She'd lived, unlike even legends like Circe, and Regina counted that as a victory. After all, her ultimate goal had been to keep Henry safe, and Henry was still safe. Even if he was with Emma and Rumplestiltskin's annoyingly resilient son. Still, there were worse places for her precious boy to be, and they would both protect Henry with their lives, which meant Regina was free to toy with Jafar all she wanted, and was confident that she could get the better of him.

"I'm not your type, dear," Regina replied archly. "You couldn't handle me."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?" Jafar countered, lifting a hand to touch Regina's carefully coifed hair.

Catching the hand before it could make contact, Regina smiled nastily and flicked a bit of magic at the genie, just enough to keep him on his toes and hurt a little. Jafar jumped, but Regina didn't let go; she kept her eyes locked with Jafar's and continued to smile. "You're not going to be the judge of anything except how comfortable the inside of your lamp is unless you keep your hands to yourself."

"Well, that's hardly any fun."

"I'm not here for your entertainment," she retorted. "And I'm not interested in you, either, Jafar, so you keep those hands of yours where I can see them, and don't even think about whatever spell you've got waiting to drop on me. Can it, or I'll have you back in that lamp so fast that it'll take your new owner weeks to pry you out."

"New owner?" the genie echoed with a frown. "Who are you taking me to?"

But the spell that had been lurking in the background and steadily growing in strength simmered down to the barest whisper. Regina contemplated calling Jafar on it, but she'd learned a lesson or two in manipulation herself, and decided that it could wait. It might be useful if Jafar thought he could get a thing or two past her. She would have to be on her toes, but Regina had never been one to pass up a challenge.

"That's my little surprise," she smirked in answer to his question. "I was thinking about telling you, but now I think I'll wait until you're better behaved."

The ride was rougher than Rumplestiltskin expected. The Black Fairy's magic deposited him in a completely empty room, one about fifteen by fifteen feet and covered in wood paneling. The floor and the ceiling were paneled in the same wood, too, looking more natural than man-made, but most importantly, there wasn't a window in sight. Or a door.

Her spell had dropped him hard, and Rumplestiltskin landed hard on one knee before her could catch himself, glancing around and taking in his surroundings within a few quick seconds. Unfortunately, even a second glance did not reveal anything further; there was nothing in the room, no entrance, no exit, and no furniture at all. It was simply empty, even on a magical level. There were no hidden traps or tricks, only complex and careful spells woven into every plank of wood, every nook and cranny. The magic work was extraordinary in itself and would have taken him hours to unravel if he'd even been able to find a thread to start with, but the intricate way the spells were woven together gave Rumplestiltskin nowhere to start. He supposed that enough brute power might be sufficient to break through the defenses, but doing that would certainly get him noticed.

Besides, despite the fact that the trap laid on Norco had caught him unawares, there were advantages to having been caught. Danns' a'Bhàis would think she had won this round—and perhaps she had—but it was also high time that he had a chat with his predecessor's old friend, adversary, and lover. Obviously, she had expected him to kill Norco and planned accordingly. She hadn't been there to watch their fight, but she hadn't needed to. Her power had done her bidding without her commands, and done it well. Rumplestiltskin didn't appreciate being found so predictable, but perhaps he could use this. He would have to.

Then he would have to get out of here as quickly as he could. Rumplestiltskin might have left a note for Belle, but he wasn't a fool. Nor did he want to worry Belle any more than Rumplestiltskin knew she already was. She was going to kill him for this stunt, particularly if he was ever stupid enough to admit to her that he might have been able to find a way around the magic that had yanked him here. But Rumplestiltskin hadn't wanted to tip his hand that much, didn't want to show the Black Fairy that he really wasn't what Norco—and by extension, Danns' a'Bhàis—clearly thought he was. You were only the Dark One, Norco had told him once. Never before had Rumplestiltskin listened to someone say that as if being the Dark One was not power enough, but he'd finally come to understand that the fae didn't think much of the previous owners of his old curse.

What kind of men and women had they been, his predecessors? Was Rumplestiltskin so unique because of what he had learned and what he had become? Or was there something else going on here? There was no way to know without pulling this string, without allowing himself to be taken.

So here he was, surrounded by layer upon layer of fae magic, waiting for the Black Fairy to arrive. Fortunately, Danns had never been the patient sort, which meant Rumplestiltskin did not have long to pace.

A door appeared where there had not been one before, opening to admit the queen of the fae herself. She was alone, and the door vanished back into the woodwork before Rumplestiltskin could even start to figure out how that entrance worked, but what he could determine indicated that the doorway would only respond to fae magic. So much for that way out—

He'd been distracted, and missed the spell that left her fingers as she twitched them. Rumplestiltskin started to call on his own magic to counter her, but he was too slow, too late, and the fae magic permeating the wood-lined cell was powerful enough to dim his reactions, his power. Using magic was like breathing underwater. Before Rumplestiltskin knew it, bands of bronze closed around his wrists, his neck, and even around his ankles under his boots. His reach abruptly floundered, his connection to his own magic cut off and leaving Rumplestiltskin gasping. The last time those bands had cut him off from magic, Rumplestiltskin had thought himself incapable of reaching it at all, so he'd not been aware of the sudden aching emptiness, the painful hole not having magic created.

"Welcome back, old friend," Danns said before he could bring himself back on balance, smiling the smile that Merlin's memories told Rumplestiltskin meant she felt she was winning. Smug.

Rumplestiltskin felt his eyes narrowing. "Not exactly the reception I was expecting. If you wanted to chat, dearie, you could have just asked." He gestured as casually as he could at the band on his left wrist, ignoring the way his heart was pounding in his chest. "Instead of using your old tricks."

"Why find new ones when the old ones work so well?"

She had to be able to see his internal panic. Wearing those bands made him blind. He couldn't feel, couldn't see magic; he was helpless. Somehow, Rumplestiltskin had managed to forget those damn bands, forget how they dug painfully into his skin and tore away the very power that gave him confidence, made him feel safe. He was nothing without magic and had always known that; only through magic had the town coward become something more than a victim for others to mock, to abuse. Only once in his life had he managed to do something good without magic, but killing Pan had landed him here for a year. Or somewhere very like here. Somehow, Rumplestiltskin knew that where they were was nowhere near Bremen. Now he was deep in the domain of the fae, a place that the Black Fairy had not deemed necessary to bring him before but did now.

I was less dangerous before.

"Then don't expect me to thank you for the hospitality," he snapped back at her, trying desperately to mask his fear. He hadn't expected this, but he should have. He was such a fool.

Danns could recreate that last year if she wanted to, and Rumplestiltskin could do nothing to stop her. She had magic. He did not. And now he knew enough to know that year had been mild by her standards; what Danns had done to Merlin so many centuries previously had been far worse. Would she do that now? She thinks I'm Merlin. Nothing good would come of this.

"I thought we might chat." Hazel eyes met his, dancing with a well-earned triumph. But she was magnanimous in her victory. Danns' a'Bhàis was content to fence with words for now, for she felt she had all the time in the world.

Perhaps she did. Rumplestiltskin wasn't certain that he wasn't immortal, now, for all he'd become aware of how shoehorning original power into a purely human body could create problems. Yet he'd felt himself changing. Felt the power sinking in deeper and deeper, felt its subtle way of adjusting the body that hosted such magic. Rumplestiltskin had tried not to think of that, had tried not to let the fact that immortality might separate him from those he loved (again!) intrude upon the life and relationships he was trying to build. He had to live, Rumplestiltskin had realized upon escaping death so narrowly, upon being granted a second chance. Whatever this power he'd unexpectedly inherited from Merlin did to him, he had to make it his own and not look back. Yet the terrifying thought still lingered, particularly now that he was back in the hands of the Black Fairy. Helpless.

Danns had won. Her magic was tingling over him already, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He couldn't stop her. She could hold him for eternity, could hold him until those he loved were long dead and—

Stop this. Do the brave thing, and bravery will follow.

"If you'd wanted me to be polite, you should have extended a polite invitation," Rumplestiltskin retorted, Belle's words ringing in his ears. You give me strength, he'd told her, and even thinking of Belle made that true. So he shrugged, the motion almost feeling as nonchalant as he tried to appear. "Still, I suppose since we're here, we might as well have that chat indeed."

The smile he gave her reached his eyes, vicious and nasty and full of dangerous promises. Rumplestiltskin might be frightened, but he'd lived with various fears for a very long time. He wasn't going to stop fighting just because he was afraid…because he could feel her magic, he suddenly realized. Not his own, no, but he could still feel magic. And what he could feel, he could manipulate. Perhaps he was not such a fool after all.

"I'm glad you see things my way," the Black Fairy purred, a sly smile crossing her face in response to his hostility. Waving her right hand, she conjured up two comfortable-looking chairs. She then seated herself primly, crossing her legs and arranging her black and silver skirts just so. "Do join me."

He wanted to snap at her, wanted to snarl. Had he still been cursed, Rumplestiltskin was certain that his temper would have irrevocably united with the demon inside him, and he would have attacked her, consequences be damned. But he had a little better hold on his emotions these days, so Rumplestiltskin lowered himself into the offered chair—or tried to. He almost missed on the first try, stumbling, with his hands grasping at thin air. Being isolated from his magic threw his equilibrium off, made him dizzy and light-headed. Without magic, even his balance was trashed, was wrong.

Danns was kind enough—or wise enough—not to mention his near mishap as Rumplestiltskin finally found the chair and seated himself. It took all of the self-control he had to sit back and fold his hands, with his heart still pounding and nerves strung tight. Rumplestiltskin's throat was unbearably dry. He'd jumped into this trap feet first, and found himself in deeper than he'd expected. Yet he wasn't beaten, Rumplestiltskin reminded himself. Danns had made two critical assumptions, and he could still exploit that.

"I'm not sure I'd phrase it quite that way," he replied easily. "But you do have my attention."

"Oh, I'm sure I do."

A tense moment of silence passed, and then another. A full minute ticked by as they studied one another, each waiting for the other to make the first move. She had him trapped, but what Danns' a'Bhàis wanted required his cooperation. They'd both learned that in Bremen. Merlin had given in. So long as Rumplestiltskin did not do the same, he would never be the Dark One again.

Finally, Danns' impatience bot the better of her. "Why must you set yourself against me? This game is growing tiresome."

"Is it?" he countered, stalling for time. Feeling her magic. Rumplestiltskin's tone was bone dry: "And here I thought we were just beginning to have fun."

"Don't." Hazel eyes went hard. "I have no patience for flippancy today. I have offered you the world, Merlin. More than once. Morgan is gone and you have a second chance. Will you waste this one, too? I thought you were smarter than that."

"I'm certainly too smart to trust you," he commented mildly, ignoring the fact that she still thought he was someone he could never be. Someone he would never be.

Could he still use that? The possessiveness in his opponent's eyes was starting to become dangerous. Walking that fine line was growing harder. Sooner or later, the wheels would come off.

"You'd rather continue with this charade?" Danns wondered, and he could see the Black Fairy holding onto her temper. Barely. "You would prefer to pretend to be one of these humans, to play at being their ally and act as if you care about them? You disappoint me, old friend. I always knew you to be more assertive than this. You're not even leading this ill-advised fight against me." She smiled again, all sharp edges. "Even you should remember that biding your time will not make my arrogant sister come crawling to you."

The magnitude of that assumption startled a laugh out of Rumplestiltskin. What kind of man had Merlin been? There were some things he really would have liked to discuss with his predecessor. "I don't want your sister on my side at all. I don't trust her any more than I trust you."

"One of us will own the Heart," she retorted. "You know that—"

"No," Rumplestiltskin cut her off.

"No?" Danns was startled enough to echo the word incredulously. "Is this your lingering sentimentality making a nuisance out of itself again? I know the boy is a descendant of Morgan's on his mother's side, but this really is becoming quite ridiculous. He's not your descendant. Morgan married your pet Arthur after you were gone, and this Truest Believer is no concern of yours."

"He's my grandson."

"Rumplestiltskin's," she countered immediately, as if it meant nothing.

"Indeed. Mine." The time for that game was up. Now was the time to shove Danns' assumption down her throat, to throw her off balance if he could. He could not keep the ruse up while in such constant contact with her, anyway; she had known Merlin too well. So, it was better to slam the truth down on the table on his terms. "I told you before, dear. I'm not Merlin, and Henry is my grandson."

"But—" He'd never imagined her so shocked, and Rumplestiltskin smirked slightly. Danns almost sounded like a lost little girl, broken and empty. She wanted her lover back, wanted the man she destroyed. She wanted a second chance to undo the damage she did.

"I've always been Rumplestiltskin, and nothing less." He looked her straight in the eye, gathering a touch of her bottomless magic to him while she was distracted. It was not enough, not yet, but this was a start. Rumplestiltskin continued coolly: "I told you before that you destroyed Merlin far too thoroughly for him to survive. I meant that."

"I know his power." Fury filled the hazel eyes with fire, and suddenly Danns was on her feet, dark and dangerous and deadly. She towered over him, but when Rumplestiltskin made to stand, an invisible hand of power shoved him down. Hard.

The blow snapped his head back and took his breath away, but Rumplestiltskin still summoned up a defiant smirk. He had no chance of fighting her hold, not with those damn bands on, but he could sequester a tiny section of her magic away for later. Again. This, too, was no time for weakness. He could continue this battle with words alone; they'd always been the weapons he preferred. Brown eyes met hazel fiercely.

"You never did know that, did you?" Rumplestiltskin taunted her around the heavy weight of magic on his chest. "Never knew that it was Merlin who tied his power to the curse, right before you forced it into him. You destroyed your 'friend,' but the power passed down."

To give Danns' a'Bhàis credit, she did not remain off balance for long. "Clever," she purred, her fury now under tight outward control, but whipping back and forth in her magic, beating against defenses he did not have. "And so now Rumplestiltskin is an original power. How…fascinating."

Merlin's memories knew her well enough to understand that Danns actually could appreciate being out-maneuvered, but Rumplestiltskin had too many recollections of pain at her hands to be less than wary. She was studying him now, digesting the new information and calculating how it would affect her plans. Did she still think as Norco had? Did Danns believe that Rumplestiltskin could not possibly know how to handle the power he had inherited?

Only if I'm luckier than I have been thus far today.

"No wonder you've chosen to work behind the scenes," she murmured, smiling slightly as if she had figured something out.

"We all have our own methods," he retorted, wishing he could stand and look her in the eye, but still held to the chair by her implacable power. "I don't have to be Merlin to fight you."

Her hand came out, unexpectedly, to touch his cheek, fingers feather-light and gentle. "Perhaps that is the problem," Danns said softly. "Or perhaps you don't have to fight me at all."

"I don't have to," Rumplestiltskin snapped, yanking away from her touch. "I choose to."

"You should reconsider your options," the Black Fairy told him, turning to look at Rumplestiltskin with eyes full of promises, full of desire and seduction. This was the ethereal woman who men made fools of themselves for, this was the immortal personification of love and betrayal herself. Rumplestiltskin could feel her pull, could feel the same power drawing him in the way it had so many other men at the christening. But he had a defense against that, and the mere thought of Belle's face was enough to distance himself from the toxic attraction. True Love was more powerful than any fairy, even this one.

"Should I now?" he managed to ask, his chest still tight and uncomfortably aware of the way Danns was focused on him. He sensed that she found him a challenge, and that was anything but good.

"Indeed." Her smile offered promises, secrets, power. How many had fallen under her thrall over the millennia? "In fact, I will offer you the same thing I once offered Merlin, the same terms he was foolish enough to refuse. Serve me. Stand by my side, and together we will rule any and every realm we desire."

The Black Fairy's eyes met his, and Rumplestiltskin got the uneasy feeling that she was staring deep into his soul.

"Join with me," she said softly, "and no one will harm you or your family ever again."

For a moment, he was tempted. His power united hers would be make them unstoppable, and Rumplestiltskin would give anything to protect his family. If giving up his freedom was the requirement to keep them safe, he would do so—not happily, and probably not gracefully, but he would do so. He had once been willing to die to keep them safe; this was no different. And yet—Serve me, Danns' a'Bhàis had said. She was not looking for an equal. She was looking for a slave, and a slave could not hold his mistress to a deal. How long would pass before she grew tired of playing along and took Henry's heart? She would chain him to her if he agreed, Rumplestiltskin knew, if not with the curse than with something just as thorough. Just as powerful.

No. He'd lived long enough with the knowledge that someone could control him via the dagger, lived long enough with a demon owning his soul. Rumplestiltskin had learned to cherish his freedom, learned to fight for it. So fight for it he would. Looking the Black Fairy in the eye, he answered as calmly as he could manage, pushing aside the knowledge of the pain he knew would follow. Do the brave thing.

"No. I'll not be anyone's slave. Particularly yours."

Her eyes narrowed with anger. Then the pain hit him, and Rumplestiltskin screamed.

A/N: Next up: Chapter 42: "Ulterior Motives", Belle and Bae reunite, Tink eavesdrops, and Rumplestiltskin tries to outthink his captor.

My questions for you this time around: 1) Do you think the Black Fairy will succeed in making Rumplestiltskin the Dark One once more? and 2) Is Regina overconfident in thinking she can overcome Jafar so easily?