Chapter Five—"Never Again"

13 Years Before the Curse

"I can't believe she's doing this!" Regina snarled, barging into Snow's room and flinging her hairpiece at the bed. It missed, bouncing off a nearby mirror and making Snow flinch. Her twelve year old younger sister threw Regina a cross look.

"Who is doing what?" Snow asked.

"Mother! Who else?"

Flinging herself down on the bed, Regina let out a huge sigh, flopping onto her back and staring up at the ceiling in frustration. She'd lost the argument with her mother—she always did—when Cora had oh so quietly threatened to kill Daniel if Regina did not agree to meet the damn prince. "And be gracious, darling," Cora had said, venom dripping from every word. "Your natural beauty should draw him in well enough, but if you start complaining, you will never find a suitable husband."

"I have a husband," she had snarled.

"Your farce of a marriage never existed, remember? The man who performed the ceremony has repudiated it. Besides, no princess would ever have resorted to such a low marriage. Daniel took you against your will and forced you. Remember?"

With threats to Daniel hanging over her head, all Regina had been able to do was nod meekly and promise to behave herself suitably.

"The gala?" Snow asked knowingly.

Regina groaned. "Yes. King George is bringing his son."

"He might be perfectly charming," her little sister pointed out, sitting down next to her and lying back so that they were side by side. "You never know. You've never met Prince James."

"You're way too optimistic for your own good," she shot back. "And I'm not going to betray Daniel like that."

Snow was the only one she could talk to about Daniel. Her mother continuously threatened him, everyone else thought Daniel had kidnapped her, and King Leopold was blissfully unaware that his 'beloved' queen had an innocent man locked away to keep her daughter in line. Even if Regina did tell him, and if by some miracle her stepfather believed her, everyone still thought that Daniel had kidnapped her back when they'd run away. No one would believe a word of it, not two years after Cora had imprisoned Daniel…and not with Leopold as deeply in love with Cora as ever.

"I tried to tell Papa again," Snow said quietly, and Regina felt a smaller hand slip into her own. "But he doesn't believe me. He only believes Cora."

"We've always known she was using some sort of enchantment on him," Regina replied. "I only wish knew how to get it off."

"Me, too. I miss him," her little sister replied, and Regina sat up to hug her. She felt so sorry for Snow. Like Regina, Snow had once been so close to her father, particularly after her mother's death. But now Leopold utterly ignored his once-beloved daughter. The King had attention only for Cora, and was constantly going on about how he was so fortunate that he had been granted a second wife so uniquely suited to his inclinations and who understood him so perfectly. He constantly threw balls in her honor, waxed poetic about her beauty, and indulged Cora's every desire. Leopold was utterly smitten.

As a consequence, Snow rarely even saw her father. Regina saw him even less often; so far as Leopold was concerned, his stepdaughter might as well not even exist, unless he was telling her to obey her mother. Regina had never felt so lonely—or she would have, if not for Snow. They only had one another now, but at least they had that much.

Several moments passed in silence, before Snow suddenly said:

"Maybe we could."

Regina blinked. "Could what?"

"Get it off. The magic, I mean," the young princess said. "After all, if your mother can do magic, you probably could, too, right?"

"I…I don't know about that. I don't know any magic at all."

"Doesn't Cora have a spell book? I've seen her with it. I think." Snow pulled back to look up at Regina, biting her lip nervously. "Could you use the book if we steal it?

Regina swallowed. "I don't know." But the hope on Snow's face—the hope of getting her father back, free from Cora's influence and himself once more—made her nod hesitantly. "But I can try."

There had been a time when he had loved Cora.

Or, at least Rumplestiltskin had thought he did. Perhaps he had been only in love with the idea of a woman as drawn to darkness as he was, the idea of someone who looked at him and saw something desirable instead of someone to be despised or feared. Cora had not cared what he looked like. She had cared for his knowledge and his power, and he had thought she cared for his love. He had believed she returned that love until she ripped her own heart out and chose power of a different sort, breaking his heart in the process. At the time, he had cursed himself for a fool, told himself that no beautiful and powerful young woman could ever want him. Rumplestiltskin was a monster, and desirable young women did not fall in love with monsters.

Despite that, Cora had always held a special place in his heart. Perhaps he was just growing sentimental in his old age, or maybe Rumplestiltskin just had a hard time letting go, but he'd always felt affection for her, even when they had been at odds. Even when he'd been taunting her and baiting her, watching her creep ever closer to casting his curse (and trying to slow her rage down enough so that his preparations could be completed first), he had been somewhat proud of her. He had been pleased to see his former student and lover doing so well, even if it was in a life other than the one he had offered her. Oh, a part of him had rejoiced when he'd heard how she murdered the prince she left him for—he'd giggled quite gleefully upon receiving the news—and he'd even wondered, for a few moments, if his own rage over her betrayal would mellow enough that he might accept her back. But she'd never made the offer; Cora had been too focused on snagging the prince she had once lost out on.

His lingering affection for her weathered that; it was not exactly a rejection, and Rumplestiltskin was not sure he was prepared to forgive Cora, anyway. But it could not weather this. Gold had been a little confused concerning his feelings for Cora; after all, without knowing what it was that kept him going back to her, Gold had understandably assumed that it was his choice. Gold had known he loved Lacey, but he had not known what he felt for Cora. He hated her, but he had also been drawn to her, and he had always wondered what exactly was wrong with him for that. Rumplestiltskin, on the other hand, experienced no such ambiguity in his feelings. Not now.

Now he simply hated her, hated the magic that forced him up her front walk, burned to rip her to pieces when Cora greeted him with a kiss, pressing her body against his.

"Tonight, dear," she had said to him on the phone just three hours earlier, right after he'd ignored another phone call from Lacey and was hating himself for it. This made three nights out of the four since he'd woken that she had demanded his presence, which was worrisome. Did she suspect something? Usually, Gold had found himself at Cora's a maximum of three nights a week, although the frequency of their 'dates' did seem to increase when Cora was bored or frustrated. He had never told her about the Savior; perhaps she was just irritated to find Regina hosting a stranger.

No matter. There was not time to think on that now. Cora was far too clever, and knew him far too well. He had to school his mind as well as his face around her, because Cora was far too adept at guessing. He could not afford to let her realize that Rumplestiltskin was lurking dangerously behind the façade of Mr. Gold.

"No need to be so stiff, dear," she cooed at him, and his curse screamed in his mind for her blood. "You're acting like you aren't happy to see me."

"I'm not," he replied bluntly; Gold had been direct to the point of insolence, even when Cora tried to hurt that out of him. Sometimes she succeeded, sometimes not so much. "I had plans."

She cocked her head. "Nothing that can't wait, surely." A sly smile came as she gestured him in, closing the door behind him. "Particularly since I know how anti-social you are. You should get out more often."

"Not if it means spending time with you," Rumplestiltskin retorted, stopping in the entryway. "I was planning to be perfectly happy with a new book this evening."

After all, the last thing he wanted was for her to start thinking he had plans with anyone else. He hadn't, but Rumplestiltskin couldn't afford to have Cora starting to wonder if he cared about anyone other than himself. Gold had been a loner, for all his stolen moments with Lacey—Don't think of her here!—and Cora needed to think he still was. Otherwise, his plans might fall apart before things even got moving.

"Oh, we are feisty this evening!" Cora laughed, and then leaned in to press another kiss against his lips, this one harder and more demanding. "I do love it when you work to suit my moods so nicely."

"I'm not doing this for you," he snarled, feeling his hackles rise and his curse's fury reaching a fevered pitch. It hated being helpless, just like he did, and neither liked being cornered. "And I'm not in the mood."

"That's too bad," she replied, the laughter never leaving her eyes. "Because I am."

"Then I suppose you'll simply be left wanting," Rumplestiltskin snapped viciously, despite the way he could feel the power coiling up in his mind, pushing him to submit. Gold had tried to sidestep that Tonight command more than once, and succeeded very rarely; it brought him to her home and encouraged compliance, but Rumplestiltskin was not sure how binding the caveat was. "Unless you want to call someone else, of course."

Cora still had Graham's heart, and Storybrooke's Sheriff was one of her on-again, off-again lovers, along with a pirate who Rumplestiltskin had not been at all pleased to see in Storybrooke. He didn't think she had Jones' heart, but she certainly had torn Graham's out years earlier, which meant the unfortunate huntsman was even more at her beck and call than Gold had ever been. Normally, even Rumplestiltskin wouldn't wish Cora's nastier moods on any man, but tonight he just needed to get away from her. He didn't want her touching him, and Rumplestiltskin sure as hell wasn't in the mood to indulge her more sadistic whims tonight.

"I don't think so." Her voice went cold. "Let's go downstairs."

The magic build inside him, demanding obedience. Rumplestiltskin gritted his teeth. "I think I'll pass."

"Just for that, I'll show you the new delivery I received today." Cora leaned in close, her smile dangerously hungry. "Now."

He could keep fighting. Maybe. The pressure was building and building, and Rumplestiltskin had little choice, but there was a slender possibility that he could still get himself out of this—but he did not dare. He'd already pushed as far as Gold ever dared, perhaps further, and unless he wanted to let the cat out of the bag tonight, he had to play along. The curse had found Gold—confused, angry Gold—much easier to manipulate, but the Dark One was another matter. Despite that, he was caught in a trap of his own devising. If he did not want Cora to guess that he remembered, he would have to do as Gold would have done, and that meant going downstairs.

Even if going downstairs meant letting Cora hurt him. She'd planned her caveats well from the beginning, had clearly known exactly what she intended to do even if she hadn't decided on the exact details prior to casting the curse. The first years had been rather vanilla; Cora had been testing her power and content to have a mostly willing Gold in her bed. Gold had withdrawn a little after meeting Lacey—things did happen in Storybrooke, although very little actually changed. Time inched along at a glacial rate, but small changes occurred, particularly where Cora was directly involved. And she had driven Gold straight into Lacey's arms once she started hurting him.

After all, Cora didn't want to hurt someone who liked it. Where was the power in that? Gold had both hated and feared the pain, and had the curse not held him to her, he would have sent Cora packing. But it did, thus giving Cora an intoxicating hold over the most powerful man in Storybrooke. Upon reflection, Rumplestiltskin realized that was probably why she had agreed to give him power in the first place. Dominating and hurting someone who was already powerless wasn't nearly so sweet as being able to force the powerful 'Mr. Gold' to her will. Particularly when he grew so angry over it, and yet was still helpless to avoid her. All it took was two words, and he found himself back in her bed again.

Lately, however, her interests had grown more daring, more and more painful. Cora had clearly done her research in this Land Without Magic, discovering the many inventions that let her hurt him without leaving a mark. She didn't always limit herself to such things—why bother, when she knew Gold was too proud to turn to anyone for help?—but Cora made a quite thorough study with Gold as her test subject. Over the years, she had both determined what she liked and what he didn't, and now she had hurting and frightening him down to a science.

These days it was electricity, metal on sensitive skin and turning the shocks up high enough that there was nothing erotic about it. Cora liked watching him writhe and scream in pain, and her basement was soundproofed for a reason. She always made sure to bind him. Cora was too smart to trust her caveats to make him too compliant; Gold had tried to fool her more than once over the years, for all the good it had done him. Even though she always made him pay for such defiance with enough pain to stop him from trying again for quite a while, Cora was still careful, and that meant now Rumplestiltskin was paying the price for his cursed self's clumsy attempts to free himself. Unfortunately, different men though they were, they were still much the same, and what hurt Gold also hurt Rumplestiltskin, and Cora knew how to play his body like a flute.

Several hours later, she left him tied to the bed while she headed upstairs to sleep, shaking and shuddering and wishing he had magic with which to escape her. At the moment, Rumplestiltskin would have even forgone vengeance in favor of getting away; his entire body burned. No matter how many times she hurt him, raped him, and then hurt him again, he would never grow used to it.

And the first chance he got—the first chance that did not harm his chances of seeing the curse broken and then finding his son—Rumplestiltskin was going to kill her.

3 ½ Years Before the Curse

"Put your feet up, sweetheart."

"I'm fine, Rumple." Belle gave him an exasperated look, but obliged anyway, allowing Rumplestiltskin to slip a footrest under her feet. "I just said I was a little bit nauseous this morning, but I feel fine now."

"Well, you can't be too careful," he countered, the knot of worry tied up with love in his stomach refusing to lessen. He'd never imagined this, never even thought something so miraculous might happen—

"But you can be too smothering," she retorted pointedly.

"Would you like a book to read?" Rumplestiltskin asked, ignoring the remark. "I can get it—"

"My feet work fine!" Belle snapped, but then he saw guilt flash across her beautiful face, and she reached out for his hand. "I'm sorry. I'm just bored out of my mind, and you can be a little overbearing when you worry."

He knew she was right, and shrugged sheepishly. "I know," Rumplestiltskin admitted softly. "I just love you, and I do worry. I—"

Belle stopped him with a finger to his lips as she squeezed his other hand. "I know," she said gently. "But history doesn't have to repeat itself. We'll make sure it doesn't. Together."

He loved this woman more than words could express. There were times Rumplestiltskin still wondered what this beautiful young noblewoman saw in him, why Belle stood by him—and came back!—even through his worst moments. She'd even (mostly) managed to understand once he'd told her about the Dark Curse, and Belle had promised to stand by him no matter what. He didn't deserve her at all.

Rumplestiltskin.

The voice was a cold whisper in his mind, enough to send shivers down his spine. Years had passed since he had last heard her call; his preparations for the curse wove around her in an intricate web, but Rumplestiltskin had not actually seen Cora in years. He'd hardly even thought of the woman since meeting Belle; nowadays, the way she had broken his heart seemed utterly unimportant. Of course, Rumplestiltskin had known he would have to see her eventually, but Cora had not sought him out and he'd had no reason to intrude on her whilst she'd been so busy playing the Evil Queen so well. Her stepdaughter had been on the run for almost two years now, and while Cora seemed content to let Snow hide in the woods (befriending a wolf girl, no less, but Cora didn't know that Snow was making friends who would help her in the future), Rumplestiltskin was happy to leave her be.

Now, however, her call cut through his conversation with Belle, and Rumplestiltskin could not afford to ignore her. Not if he wanted to keep her on track.

"Someone calling?" Belle asked, reading the look on his face.

Rumplestiltskin sighed. "Cora. I need to go."

"Queen Cora?" his wife echoed, her eyes going a little bit wide. Rumplestiltskin hadn't told her about who he intended to have cast the curse—he was still hoping for Regina, much though she seemed unlikely to comply—and he'd never mentioned Cora in front of his True Love.

"That would be the one. We are…old acquaintances," he explained, not willing to go into too much detail. "I taught her magic."

That was safe enough, wasn't it? Belle didn't need to know the sordid details. He wasn't sure how to explain this to the woman he loved, so rather typically, Rumplestiltskin chose to avoid the important parts instead.

"Oh." She squeezed his hand again, and offered Rumplestiltskin the smile that could bring sunlight onto even the stormiest day. "Then be careful, and hurry home."

"I will," he promised, kissing her hand before he allowed magic to sweep him away.

A simple thought was enough to take him across several kingdoms and into the small, secluded grove that Cora waited in. She had never been the outdoors type, or at least not since becoming a princess and putting such 'low' things behind her, but Cora clearly wanted privacy for this meeting. Since she was as capable of teleporting as he was, even a queen could escape for a few minutes without her guards being any the wiser. Rumplestiltskin knew that Cora would still relish the freedom to do so, even as she reveled in the ultimate power of ruling a kingdom all of her own. Never mind that said kingdom was not hers by right—Cora's power was unquestioned now, and most of her own subjects really did believe that Snow had killed Leopold.

"Queenship looks good on you," Rumplestiltskin commented, appearing behind her and trying to make Cora jump. She didn't, but he knew that he'd startled her, and that counted for something.

Royalty always had flattered Cora, though; Rumplestiltskin had not been making idle compliments. Even as the miller's daughter, she'd possessed a regal bearing that drew men to her, and Cora had lost none of her pride. She was dressed now in reds and blacks, royal to a fault and holding her head high as if the world was beneath her. Queen Cora had carved herself out a fearsome reputation, too; her fellow monarchs were leery of angering her, and her people feared her even more than they hated her. But she smiled when she turned to face him, giving Rumplestiltskin that slight twitch of her lips that meant she was truly happy and not faking the emotion for an audience.

Without her heart, Rumplestiltskin knew that every emotion Cora felt was muted, but she could still feel them. If she wanted to. Otherwise, ignoring her emotions, particularly the kinder ones, was undoubtedly easy. That was something she had used to her advantage over the years, he knew. Cora had always prized her detachment.

"Rumple," she said, sweeping forward to close the distance between them. "It's been too long."

"I don't recall our last meeting being nearly so pleasant," he replied, dancing out of her way with a small giggle. All the while, he swept a critical eye over his onetime lover, the woman he once had wanted so desperately to make his wife.

She doesn't hold a candle to Belle.

"Oh, but that's ancient history," she replied with another of that secretive little smile. "Can you blame a girl for trying?"

"You're going to have to try a lot harder than that to get my dagger, dearie," Rumplestiltskin retorted. "You don't have nearly enough power to take it from me."

"I don't want to," Cora said bluntly, making his eyebrows go up in surprise. "Betraying your trust like that was a mistake, one I'd like to make up for. And even apologize, if you'll let me."

For a long moment, he could do nothing more than stare at her rather stupidly. "I didn't think you did apologies very well."

"I don't. But I'll try, for you."

Rumplestiltskin blinked. Hard.

When he said nothing, Cora stepped forward to take his hand. She had always been bold, and she'd once—years ago—seduced him rather thoroughly. He'd not exactly been innocent, of course; Rumplestiltskin had jumped in head first and had gleefully taken everything she had to offer. The months he'd spent with her had been some of the best in his life before he'd met Belle, and Rumplestiltskin had spent them utterly drunk on darkness and lust. Cora had been such a toxic influence on him, had encouraged him to be worse than he had been save in his earliest days as the Dark One, but Rumplestiltskin had been too in love to care.

"I am sorry, Rumple," she said softly, persuasively. "I should not have tried to take your dagger. And…I should not have left you the way I did."

That made him swallow. He had not expected such honest emotion from her. Rumplestiltskin knew her well enough to know when Cora was lying, and here she seemed genuine. "It's a little late for regrets, dear," he finally managed, but the words were not as harsh as he wanted them to be. A corner of his dark heart would probably always belong to Cora.

"Will you accept my apology?" Cora asked, and then smiled self-depreciatingly. "I'm not terribly good at groveling, but I will try if I must."

"There's no need for that," Rumplestiltskin snapped awkwardly. He had never liked women who debased themselves, and could not imagine Cora doing so. Even poor, she'd been proud. "I—I accept your apology."

Peace between them was better, after all. That might make Cora less dangerous after she cast the curse, and anything that decreased Cora's unpredictability was a good thing. He could sacrifice a little pride for that—or for anything that got him a step closer to finding Baelfire.

"Thank you," she replied, and her smile was blindingly beautiful.

Rumplestiltskin had to get this conversation back on track; it was going places he had not expected, places that made him uncomfortable. Somehow, he had to regain control. He cleared his throat, trying not to show his unease.

"What did you want, Cora?" he asked bluntly. "I doubt you called me for this."

"But I did. I miss you, Rumple. I miss us."

His jaw almost dropped. For years, he would have given almost anything to hear an apology from her, to hear the invitation now in her voice. He had been so damn lonely, so broken, and now Cora offered him this? While he stared, she continued:

"My husband is dead. I am the undisputed queen in this kingdom, and no one can tell me what I can or cannot do. I am tired of choosing worldly power. I want love."

"Couldn't find another king to wed, then?" The words came out before Rumplestiltskin fully thought of them, but he didn't regret them. He could bend enough to accept her apology, but this was too damned much.

"I suppose I deserved that," she replied philosophically. It was an impressive display of self-control, one he hadn't anticipated, and Rumplestiltskin flashed her a hard smile, all black teeth and fury.

"That and more," he snapped, yanking his hand out of hers. "I'm not some toy to be discarded and picked up at your whim, Cora."

"We were good together. And I know how much you loved me."

"So good you ripped your heart out, eh?" His hand flashed out to wrap around her neck as Rumplestiltskin ignored the second sentence; he had loved Cora, but she had hurt him too badly, and even if he hadn't been in love with Belle—married to Belle—he would like to think that he would not have lost enough self-esteem to take her up on her offer.

"I regret that!" Cora squeaked, obviously taken aback by the physical assault. Rage began to build in her eyes immediately, but Rumplestiltskin saw her force it back and adopt a more conciliatory tone. "I understand that you're angry. You have every right to be. But I am being truthful, Rumple. I chose power, and I was wrong."

Her hand came up to touch the scaled one wrapped around her neck, and Rumplestiltskin let go, pushing her away as if her touch burned him. He snarled in fury. "It's amazing how you come to that conclusion after your ambitions are realized, Your Majesty."

"I know I hurt you. I can't change that, but I can put my—"

"You missed your chance," Rumplestiltskin cut her off, not wanting to hear the rest. "I'm not interested in you. Not anymore."

A corner of his mind—the ever calculating one, the one that put the pieces of every puzzle together to meet his ends—told Rumplestiltskin that perhaps he should let her down more gently. Oh, he shouldn't tell her that he had found someone else, because Cora had always been the jealous type, but perhaps he should be kinder. But it was too late for that. He was too angry, and yes, too hurt, by her past actions. Cora might mean what she said now, but in the end, her ambition would always win.

"Of course you are." Now Cora went cold, and he could see her anger masking her wounded pride. And that's all that's wounded: her pride. She'll never allow anyone to break her heart, so why should I care for her feelings? She barely feels them.

So he laughed at her, high-pitched and harsh. "Oh, no. I'm not going to be your next road to power, dearie, and I don't want you back. Go find someone else to manipulate with your smiles and your pretty apologies."

"I was not trying to manipulate you." Her back straightened and her eyes flashed; danger rumbled along with the slight gust of magically-driven wind around them. "I was being honest with you. And you'll regret rejecting me, Rumplestiltskin."

"I doubt that." And now you know how it feels, he had enough sense not to say. Rumplestiltskin was sure Cora heard the words, anyway.

His magic swept him away before she could respond, taking him home to Belle, to a woman who gave him peace instead of power, love instead of ambition. Once, he would have been so terribly tempted by Cora's offer. Once, he might have been weak enough to give in and fall for her all over again. But Belle made him stronger, and she was the woman Rumplestiltskin loved.

Rumplestiltskin went home instead of to the shop the next morning, in desperate need of a hot shower to wash away Cora's touch. He stayed under the stream for a long while, waiting for his shaking to stop and trying to will himself back under control. This wasn't the first time that Cora had been quite this creatively vindictive, nor was it the worst, but the previous night had been damn close to the later. He didn't care if he opened the shop late today, didn't care what people thought of him. Rumplestiltskin needed some time to compose himself.

Finally, he pulled himself out of the shower and gingerly dried himself off. Cora's repeated electric shocks hadn't left a permanent mark, but his skin was red and inflamed everywhere she'd targeted and hurt to touch. Just the act of getting dressed almost left him in tears, but he wasn't going to hide. No matter how much he burned to stay home today and shut out the world, he had work to do. There was a curse needing to be broken, and Rumplestiltskin would be damned if he was going to give Cora one moment of victory longer than necessary. He had originally intended to shepherd the Savior along in order to speed up the process; the faster the curse was broken, the faster he could find his son. But now, however, Rumplestiltskin had far greater motivation. He wanted to shove Cora's revenge down her throat and make her pay.

The phone ringing interrupted his pleasant thoughts of vengeance, and his heart sank. Picking up the phone without even looking at the number—because he knew who it had to be—Rumplestiltskin snapped: "What now?"

"Gold?" Belle's soft voice asked, making his heart constrict painfully.

"Yeah," he breathed, wanting to hang up on her but unable to make himself. Just hearing her voice was a balm for his wounds, and he needed Belle.

Lacey, Rumplestiltskin reminded himself. She's still Lacey, and you need to keep her safe.

"She was worse than usual, wasn't she?"

Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes. Even Lacey knew him far too well, knew how to tell when he was hurting and how bad things were just from the tone of his voice. She was the only one in the whole of Storybrooke that knew what Cora's 'habits' consisted of, and even then she knew more from inference than from Gold actually telling her. But Lacey was Belle, deep down, which meant she understood him in ways that even she couldn't voice.

"A little," he finally answered, by which either Belle or Lacey knew he meant a lot.

"Do you want me to come over?" she asked, and then continued too quickly for him to get a word in edgewise. "Or I could meet you at the shop. You don't have to deal with this alone. I—"

"Sweetheart, no," Rumplestiltskin cut her off, biting his lip hard to keep himself from telling her yes. He needed her so badly, but he couldn't indulge that need. There was too much at stake. "Cora…Cora's likely to notice if you do. And I need you to be safe."

"She can't hurt me, Gold. I don't know why you let her."

"She can. She will. Please, Lacey." It was an absolutely inadequate explanation, and Rumplestiltskin knew it. But Storybrooke was a dangerous place. People who had displeased Cora had been known to disappear, and he was not going to add Belle to that list. Even Gold hadn't been able to figure out where the others went. His voice dropped to a ragged whisper: "Just stay away from me."

"Gold—"

He hung up.

He had to, otherwise he would have given in and risked everything to see her, to listen to Belle, Lacey, or whoever she was tell him everything would be all right. Rumplestiltskin knew his own weaknesses and he knew himself. Given half a chance, he would take the coward's way out, and right now he had more important things than himself to protect. He'd never been strong, but he had to be now, or at least pretend he was. Otherwise everything would go to pieces.

Closing his eyes tightly on tears, Rumplestiltskin forced himself to his feet and got on with his day.

Author's Note: Thank you so much for all the lovely feedback! It's making me write so much faster than I would otherwise. For those of you who think Jefferson is a creep—well, he is, but it's not his fault. That's all the curse, just like all the awkward matchups we see are, including Gold/Cora.

Stay tuned for Chapter Six: "Power is Freedom", where Regina meets Errol Forrester (Robin Hood) for the first time and turns to Rumplestiltskin for help in both the past and the present.