Chapter 34

One week after the explosion, there's an empty lot where the fourplex once was.

Two weeks after the explosion, Snow and David are settled comfortably in a freshly painted, newly carpeted one-bedroom apartment on Devine Road, but despite the many properties he owns, Gold hasn't been able to find an empty two-bedroom for Emma and Henry. It seems every time one comes available, someone else snatches it up before Emma can go look at it.

Emma folds her arms in annoyance when Gold gives her the latest bad news. "What the hell does Tom Clark need with a two-bedroom rental? He already owns a condo on Thomson Avenue."

Gold shrugs. "For when his in-laws come to visit?"

"He has no in-laws! He's a dwarf, for cryin' out loud!"

"Guess you're stuck with us a little while longer," Gold's smirking, but meekly.

Regina's trial is under way. Sidney is representing her in court, since no one else will; DA Spencer wipes the floor with the amateur. Regina shouts at both men repeatedly on the first day, some of it nonsense, and she has to be magically muzzled, but by the second, she's too ill to speak. Blue is brought in, along with Whale, to examine her; it's determined that too much fairy dust has been sprinkled on the handcuffs that bind the prisoner. They make adjustments and by day three, Regina is smirking again and her appetite, for the meals she takes away from her jail cell, improves. Bernie and Ceecee go in and sweep up some of the fairy dust while Regina is out, and Emma reports that the former mayor is now able to get some sleep, but when Regina's caught lighting a fireball, a fresh layer of dust is laid.

Regina has requested to have her case heard by a judge rather than a jury. There aren't enough unbiased people in town, she says, to form a jury, and she's right. Snow White is her judge; Regina smiles when she's informed of that.

By Emma's request, Gold shows up at the jail on the first morning of the trial and with a flick of his wrist, restores Regina's hair. He leaves immediately after, saying nothing to his former pupil.

Emma doesn't allow Henry to see the television reports. She takes him out of school when other children expose him to newspaper articles. As the demands on her time and her patience increase, she depends more on Henry's grandfathers and Belle to care for the boy.

Belle and Gold are called to testify. Hell, the list of witnesses for the prosecution is so long that the trial could go on for years, but Snow orders it cut down to fifteen. On the defense's side, there are a couple of former royal guards, until Sidney gets the bright idea to call Rumplestiltskin. Gold refuses and Sidney informs him he'll be dragged in if necessary. The night after that declaration, Emma arranges for Henry to have supper with the Charmings so she can talk to Gold and Belle alone. The sheriff is practically in tears. "I don't want to do this, but if you don't show up willingly in court on Friday, Sidney's going to make me arrest you. I'll have to take you in there in cuffs."

"It's a pointless trial," Belle remarks. "The outcome is obvious. This parade of witnesses, it's really just an excuse for people to vent."

"My parents think that'll do the town some good." Emma sighs. "Show up in court, will ya, Gold? I don't want to have to tell Henry I arrested his grandpa."

"Admit it," Gold teases, "I've grown on you."

"Yeah," Emma admits, then she glances at the photo on the wall. "I see a lot of him in you. Or vice versa."

That night as they slip into bed, Belle is in one of her quiet moods. Back in the Dark Castle days, after he'd come to realize his growing emotional connection to her, he used to worry about these moods; they were so un-Belle, he thought. In her youthfulness some part of her always seemed to be in motion: if not her feet or her hands or her hips (he found his gaze falling shamefully often on those hips), then her mouth; a chatterbox, she was. But that was Belle A: Belle had a B side too, a silent and thought-filled mood that at first he'd mistaken for depression or brooding or fear. . . or scheming ways to escape. In time he discovered that after an hour or a day, Belle A would reemerge, sunny and bubbly as ever, chattering about whatever she'd been thinking about.

And gods, did the girl like to think. He considered himself a thinker, capable of spending days at his wheel, literally wool-gathering, but his thoughts were nearly always centered on one of a half-dozen concerns, including, increasingly, those hips. And more interestingly, what they would feel like without all that cloth in the way. And more problematically, what he would feel like, if he touched her and liked it and she liked it. And most problematically, what he would do about it, if it turned out that the ever-tightening bonds (chains! He must think of them as chains that would imprison him, prevent him from fulfilling his quest for Bae) were permanent.

But Belle liked to think, about everything from shopping lists to how the universe was created. Tonight, Belle B had emerged right after supper and Belle A didn't replace her until bedtime. She's under the covers, turning off the light on her side of the bed (he loves it that they each have a chosen side of the bed. There's a rightness in that.) when she blurts, "You know, inadvertently, she did us a favor."

He assumes she means Regina. He turns off his light. Through the window above the bed, moonlight replaces electricity as the power that reveals her to him. He likes moonlight. "A favor?"

"It's kind of hard to execute someone who, for most of us, gave us a better life than we had in the Enchanted Forest. There, seventy percent of the population lived in hovels, freezing and starving in winter, dying of dysentery and influenza and measles and ogre attacks. Infant mortality, thirty percent. Schooling only for the nobility." She looks guilty. "I had private tutors until the Ogres War started. Did you go to school at all?"

"No. But I grew up hundreds of years before you, remember."

"It hadn't changed in my day. No schools for peasants. No books. No doctors. Yes, we were separated from our families and friends, and Regina knew that would happen, and she must be punished for it, but. . . maybe we need to keep in perspective that the curse had some positive effects."

He grunts. "She lied to me. Told me you had died in a horrific way. And then when she brought us here, she—if it had gone as she planned, you would have become an adulteress. We would have broken each other's hearts. And Josiah's."

"But it didn't. Instead, we became friends, and we're better for it. Once we break the boundary curse, Jo too; we're better because we have thirty years of friendship between us. That's a pretty solid foundation. And for us, as lovers, we have thirty years of learning about each other and caring about each other to get us through the times we argue. All those years of learning how to love you, they enable me to see your point of view. The strength of the bond between us after thirty years—don't you feel it? Doesn't it give you something too, Rumple?"

"Hope." The word is out of his mouth before he can censor it. "Yes. I know what I place at risk when we fight. And Adelena–when I think of Adelena I'm shown the man I could be, what we could be as a couple."

"What our love will produce," Belle adds.

He sits upright. "Will?"

Belle chuckles as she drags him back beneath the sheets. "No, I'm not pregnant. . . yet. I'm certain one day, when we're ready, I will be. Adelena's waiting for us, I know it. Rumple, see the curse for the accidental gift it was. Let the law take care of Regina; our business is to take care of each other."

She tucks her head under his chin; she's a perfect fit in his arms. She always has been–as, he realizes, he has been for her, an imperfect perfect fit. "All right." He relents. "Back to the lab, then, tomorrow, and back to the convent"–he smiles ruefully at the connotation of his word choice–"for you." After a long kiss, he releases her. "Belle?"

"Hmm?"

"What's your favorite stone?"

She shifts on his chest. "Huh? Oh, I guess marble."

"No, I mean, jewel."

"Oh, I thought you were thinking about redoing the kitchen counters."

"Your favorite jewel?" he prods.

"My mother had a sapphire ring, before the war started. I liked that very much. Why?"

He shrugs. "Just making a Christmas list."

"Rumple, it's July."

There's an empty space beside him when he awakens. His mind still wandering in a half-finished dream, he startles when he reaches out but finds no one there to hold.

In his dream, he was the Dark One again, and he had Robin Hood strung up by the wrists and was carving him open like a side of beef as Belle swept up the blood and cried. Her crying got on his nerves, so he conjured a tasseled pillow and tossed it at her, demanding that she shut up. He picked up his carving knife, grasped his prisoner by the hair and yanked up to see the eyes clearly, to relish the agony there. The eyes that looked back at him were large as bullions, and gold.

"Belle?" He slips into his robe and patters to the bathroom, but she's not there. His ankle's threatening to buckle, so he has to return to the bedroom for his cane, and in so doing, a buzzing sound coming from outside catches his attention. He peers out the window and what he sees, out on his lawn, cuts through the remnants of his nightmare: Henry, masterfully steering a power lawn mower, is cutting the grass.

Gods. Gold feels so proud he could bust.

At ease now, he showers and dresses quickly, because he can smell coffee, and he thumps downstairs to the kitchen, where Emma and Belle are preparing breakfast. "Morning, Rumple," Belle chirps. "Oatmeal okay this morning? I think we've been getting too much cholesterol in our diet."

Emma is popping slices of bread into the toaster. "Cinnamon raisin." She shows him the bread bag. "Picked it up at the bakery this morning."

"Henry's mowing the lawn." Gold can't stop grinning, even as he starts setting the table. "He doesn't have to do that."

"Yes, he does," Emma argues. "He's eleven. He needs to have chores."

Gold shakes his head, still grinning, as he lays down the bowls. "Henry's mowing the lawn."

Emma's perplexed. "So? No magic involved there, Gold."

"My grandson is mowing the lawn."

"Yeah?" Emma still doesn't get it, but Belle does; she grins too. "Your grandson," she reiterates.

Emma just shrugs and pops a raisin into her mouth.

"Grandpa?"

Caught, Gold reddens with embarrassment and exertion as he grabs his cane and pries himself to his feet. His ankle gives out and he slips on the cement floor; Henry dives in to catch him. He helps the old man to the Caddy and urges him to lean against it, to rest, since there is no place to sit in the garage. "Are you sick? Should I call 911?"

Sweat is dripping down the old man's forehead and his hair is limp with dampness. "No, I'm fine. I can see how you'd think that, though. I was just. . . exercising."

Henry frowns. "In the garage?"

"Sort of." Gold pats his face with his handkerchief as he relaxes against the hood of his car.

"Are you sure you don't need a doctor?"

"I'm sure. I was just—practicing kneeling. To see if I could do it."

This perplexes Henry all the more. "For church? With Blue?"

"Not exactly." Gold has regained his breath now. "Just, you know, strength conditioning."

"Oh."

Gold testifies in Regina's trial. It's Rumplestiltskin that's been summoned, so he drops the glamour and appears in all his sparkly, scaly glory, leather and hand flourishes and all. Except for the rotten teeth. Gold can't abide the teeth.

Now that he's got him, Sidney doesn't know what to do with him: Glass tries to prove that Rumple was the mastermind behind the curse: "Yes," Rumple says cheerfully, "thank you; it was quite masterful, wasn't it?" He tries to prove Rumple tricked Regina into casting it: "Oh really?" Rumple seems perplexed. "Tell me, dearie, where was I when she demanded instruction in how to cast the curse? And where did I remain when the curse was cast? If I were as tricky as you say, why did I rot in Prince Charming's prison for ten months?"

Sidney tries to prove Rumple bribed Regina: "Tell me," Rumple answers, "what the name Rumplestiltskin is best known for, in all the realms. I am a deal maker, trading in magic, and I had done for three hundred years before Regina was born. When she asked me for the curse, I sold it to her. A simple business transaction. She wanted a curse that would transport all her chosen ones to a new land; that's what I sold her. It worked exactly as she specified. The fact that we are all here demonstrates the quality of the product. So tell me, Mr. Glass, where is the bribe?"

Sidney tries to prove Rumple corrupted an innocent young maiden. Rumplestiltskin giggles at this: "Look at me. Do I look like someone an innocent young maiden would trust? Regina summoned me, not the other way around, and she became a student of mine, just one of many, more talented than some, less than others. She summoned me, not the Blue Fairy. It was Dark magic she wanted. It was Dark magic she'd seen practiced all her life, by her own mother; she knew full well what it could do; she knew what it would do to her. She'd seen what the Darkness made of her mother. So tell me, dearie, where is the corruption?"

It goes on and on for a full morning, but Sidney can find no way in. He gives up. In the afternoon, Spencer has one question for Rumplestiltskin: "Did Regina Mills use the Dark magic you taught her to kill, torture, manipulate and bully an entire town?"

Rumplestiltskin has a two-word answer: "She did."

When he stands down, as he walks through the courtroom, he resumes his glamour, gold-tipped cane and all. He's still a showman.

"I thought maybe you could tell me what's going on with my mom. The trial, I mean."

It had started out to be such an easy day, a Sunday morning; with Emma at work and Belle visiting her father, it was a Guys' Day: they'd wash the cars, then sit out on the back lawn and listen to a ball game on the radio, then wander over to Amy's for ice cream before the Sunday Wild West Feature started.

Gold drops his sponge into the soapy bucket and runs his sweatshirt sleeve across his forehead. "I think you ought to ask Emma about that."

But Henry won't let it go. He turns off the hose and abandons the Bug to come over to the Caddy and face his grandfather—a showdown. "I know you testified yesterday. I heard you and Belle talking."

"Yeah."

"I think I should know."

"I can't. . . . "

"Why?" Henry squares his feet. "I'm not a kid any more. I need to know what's going to happen to my mom." He grabs Gold's sleeve. "What did they ask you yesterday? What did you say?" Gold shakes his head. "Look, I know she did terrible things. I know she's guilty and needs to be punished. I know she wanted to kidnap me!"

"Henry, I promised Emma. She needs to be the one to tell you."

"Grandpa, please!"

Gold shuts his eyes. When he opens them, Henry's still glaring up at him. Gold sighs. "I won't break my promise."

Henry's still waiting.

Gold waves at the buckets and the hose. "Clean up here." He walks toward the house.

Henry's angry now. "What are you doing, Grandpa?"

"I'm going to call Emma. I think it's time you visited the jail."

"But not in the cell. I don't want him to see her behind bars. That would be too upsetting. I'll have her waiting in the interrogation room, two o'clock." Emma's voice is both angry and worried. "Gold, you better be right about this."

"He needs to know the truth, Emma."

Henry is silent on the drive back home from the jail.

Henry's had several sessions with Archie, ever since the curse broke; there will be plenty more in his future. But for now, Henry doesn't want to talk to anyone. Gold leaves him to his thoughts: a man needs to respect another man's private thinking time.

When they get inside the house, Gold asks, "Are you hungry?"

Henry shakes his head. "Guess I'd better start on my homework."

"Okay."

But they both know his homework was finished Friday night. He pauses on the stairs but doesn't look back at his grandfather. "What's going to happen to her?"

"I don't know."

Henry continues up the stairs.

Belle has the table set for four people, but the food is growing cold.

Gold pours four glasses of tea. "Should I go up and get them?"

"No." Belle stares at the ceiling as if she could see through it to Henry's bedroom. "They need to talk it out."

"I could take their plates up to them."

"No. When they're ready, they'll come down. We can always reheat everything."

He withdraws a chair for her and she sits, spreading a napkin across her lap. They pass the platters back and forth in silence, filling their plates, but they pick at the food.

"I wish he'd asked me about the birds and the bees instead," Gold says.

"He trusts you," Belle answers. "You didn't let him down. He knows now he can come to you." She stabs at a green bean. "And her. Emma's earned her mom stripes today."

"How do we help him, if they decide to execute Regina?"

Belle shakes her head.

Gold pushes his plate away. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. No appetite. I'm going down to the basement."