Questions to Answer:

Why Does Rumplestiltskin feel guilt at his wedding? He feels guilty because he can't give Belle 'forever' without his curse, and that a part of him actually wants to stay in Amorveria with her. But he can't do that if he wants to find his son, which leaves him with a very hard decision.

How long might it take Cora to realize Belle and Rumplestiltskin (or Lacey and Gold) are True Love? Honestly, I don't think it will ever occur to Cora that Rumplestiltskin might find True Love. She thinks she knows him too well for that.

Chapter Eleven—"Dreams and Destruction"

"Bye, Emma!" Henry dashed out of the diner to catch the school bus, and she watched him go with a tired smile.

Two days after Ashley gave birth—and her deadbeat ex-boyfriend had miraculously grown some moral courage—Emma had just finished the second of three back to back night shifts. She was already feeling the burn, the grit behind her eyeballs and the feeling of being out of synch with everyone else. Eating breakfast with Henry was odd when she had been up for over sixteen hours, and she'd have been in bed already if today wasn't the day she always ate breakfast with him. This arrangement gave both David and Regina the ability to get to work a little earlier, and let Emma have some time with her son. It usually worked out very well, and Emma was happy with the schedule she'd worked out with her son's adopted parents…except when she was in the middle of three consecutive late shifts.

Being the new guy at the sheriff's office really sucked in a lot of ways. She got all the odd jobs neither Graham nor Keith wanted to do, was assigned patrols out in the middle of nowhere that had to be done but they were both too busy for, and pretty much got to fetch coffee most other days. It was even less fun when Keith managed to dump his late shifts on her, particularly when Mr. Herbert Wall managed to somehow collapse the outer wall of his detached garage on himself in the middle of the night. His paranoid neighbor, Aesop Wolfe, had called the sheriff's station because he was convinced robbers were digging through Wall's garage to get to his house, so it had been a long night.

At least something had happened. Emma hadn't believed the stories about Mr. Wolfe until she'd gotten that panicked call, but now she was starting to get it.

"Cocoa with cinnamon and whipped cream?" a familiar voice asked, and Emma blinked as a full mug replaced the empty one she'd been staring at.

"Oh. Hi."

Graham slipped into the seat across from her in the booth she had continued to blankly occupy after Henry's departure. "I hear Mr. Wolfe lived up to his name again," he said with a smile. "Long night?"

"Yeah. I had to get Forrester and his boys out to dig Wall out from under his garage, too. He said that's the third time a wall has fallen on him. How does that happen?"

"I don't know," Graham laughed. "Things like that happen in Storybrooke, I guess."

"Tell me about it," Emma groused, and then had to ask: "Why the hell did you let Keith dump both of his late shifts on me, anyway?"

Graham was a good boss, but sometimes he was a bit oblivious, and this seemed to be one of them. Her question made him blink. "I, uh—he did? Both of them?"

"Yeah. Two days ago and tonight. Makes my night shift from last night extra special," she replied a little testily.

"I'll talk to him," her boss replied, obviously a little embarrassed. "He'll take tonight. That was supposed to be my shift, and Keith said he could cover me, not that he'd give it to you."

Emma shrugged. "He whined and said something about having a hot date with the librarian."

Graham snorted. "Lacey wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole. He's dreaming."

"I didn't ask."

"I'll fix this," Graham promised. "You go home and get some sleep. You look beat."

"Thanks," Emma replied gratefully, making a mental note to ask Henry who Graham was supposed to be. Not that she actually believed any of this fairy tale stuff, but at least someone in this crazy town was actually nice. It did poke holes in Henry's theory of no happy endings, though, and that made her curious.

He shouldn't have come here.

Rumplestiltskin had known that even when he'd gotten in his black Cadillac and driven down to the Storybrooke park, but he'd been unable to stop himself. He'd spent the last two days berating himself for hurting Lacey, thinking of the promises he had made Belle and knowing that he could not expect her to understand what he had done, even once the curse was broken. He wanted to keep her safe, would do anything to make certain of that, but keeping Cora from realizing what his family meant to him when he could do nothing to protect them was halfway to impossible. Trying to do so meant he'd acted in an unforgivable fashion…and would continue to do so.

He was such a coward. Always had been, and Rumplestiltskin would be one for the rest of his life. All he could do to quiet his conscience—what little of one he had—was to get out of the car, take the long walk across the park, and find a spot from which he could watch over them from a distance. Odds were that no one would notice him over by the baseball diamond; the park was fairly busy, anyway, with parents and kids all over the place. Still, he could see Lacey pushing Renee on the swings, could distantly hear as the three year old laughed with joy. She was wearing yellow again; it was Renee's favorite color and always made his heart clench, even when he hadn't known why. Her stuffed purple crocodile—oh, what an ironic toy to be her favorite—stuck out of Lacey's purse, and it wouldn't be too long before Renee needed a replacement because she took that toy everywhere.

He missed them so much that it hurt, missed being clueless, oblivious Gold and not knowing he was supposed to stay away from them. Every day only got harder, not easier, but he could not slip up. Not now. He had less than a year to go.

"Higher, Mommy!" Renee demanded, and Lacey complied, pushing the giggling child harder as her little legs pumped for still more speed.

Rumplestiltskin swallowed, watched them for a moment longer, and then forced himself to turn and limp away. He had work to do, a curse to break, and maybe, if he was very lucky, a son to find.

6 Months Before the Curse

"Papa!" The brown-haired blur launched herself into his arms almost as soon as he appeared. Somehow, she always knew when and where Rumplestiltskin was about to show up, and he caught her with a laugh, spinning her around as she giggled.

"Faster!"

So he did, tossing his two and a half year old up and catching her again as she squealed happily. He tossed her twice more, grateful for his curse-enhanced muscles and reflexes. They allowed Rumplestiltskin to do things with Gabrielle that he had never been able to do with Baelfire, just like the curse gave him the means to provide for this child like he had not done as the cowardly spinner. He loved this miracle child as much as he did the one he had lost, and Rumplestiltskin melted as he felt tiny arms wrap around his neck when he started walking deeper into the castle.

Belle met them in the great hall, smiling. "How does she always know?" his wife asked.

"Magic," Rumplestiltskin replied with a smile, feeling his daughter perk up. She was just old enough to start being interested in magic, which always made her mother just a little bit nervous.

"Isn't she too young for that?"

He shrugged, bouncing Gabrielle. "She's a child of True Love, sweetheart, and that exponentially increased the odds that she would have magic of her own, even if she were not my child."

"I thought that you didn't have magic before the curse?" Belle asked. Trust her to dive right to the heart of the matter.

"I didn't—"

"Down, Papa!" their little princess commanded, and Rumplestiltskin obediently lowered her to the floor so that she could run off to play with the vast setup of dolls she had in the far corner of the hall. That corner was shielded so that only he, Belle, and Gabrielle could see it; visitors saw a bookshelf, not a dozen dolls and their various dresses. Her parents watched together as she toddled over and settled in happily, pulling out a doll whose yellow dress was a copy of the one Belle had worn that first day, so many years ago.

Belle slipped her hand into his and gave him a smile. "So…magic?"

"Right. Magic doesn't just pass through blood or curses," Rumplestiltskin explained. "Contiguity can also breed magic. Exposure, if you will. A lifetime spent around it, or even a handful of years if the power in question is strong enough, can awaken an innate magical talent in someone."

"So, you're saying that Gabrielle having magic is unavoidable."

"More or less, particularly since she's already demonstrating an affinity for it," he confirmed, squeezing Belle's hand. His voice dropped quietly. "She need not be like me. Magic is magic. It's how you choose to use it that will matter to her. Gabi isn't predestined to darkness."

"Rumple…" Belle trailed off guiltily.

"I worry about it, too," he admitted with a slight shake of his head. "I know what I am, and I wouldn't wish…this on our child."

"I love you the way you are," his wife replied, coming up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. "We both do."

Rumplestiltskin just wrapped an arm around Belle and held on tight. He'd never deserve this amazing woman who had married him, and he lived every day with the fear that somehow he would manage to drive her away. Why she stayed—with his faults, his temper, his darkness, and his fears—he would never know, but Belle was slowly teaching him to fight for what he believed in. There wasn't much in this world that Rumplestiltskin really cared about, and before Belle and Gabi there hadn't been a damn thing he'd really believed in, but between the pair of them, they gave him something to live for. Something more than a curse and a vague promise from a seer that he would find Baelfire again.

It wasn't that finding his son was any less important to him; Rumplestiltskin still lived and breathed for the opportunity to apologize to his beloved son, to try to make up for his own cowardice and his mistakes. He had done unthinkable and abandoned his child, had done the one thing he had spent a lifetime promising himself he would never do. Gabrielle was a second chance of sorts—because he would not abandon her, not for anything—but that didn't make his having let go of Baelfire any better, and it certainly didn't lessen the urgency of his quest to find his son. Rumplestiltskin only hoped that Bae would accept the younger sister who was already so excited to meet him, that maybe he could draw his son into this new family he had somehow been fortunate enough to build.

I'm coming, Bae, he promised silently. Six months to the curse and then twenty-eight years, but we're close, son. We're so close.

True to his word, Graham forced Keith to take the night shift that evening, which freed up Emma's entire night. She'd planned on sleeping much of the day, catching up on some emails from the old job in Boston, and then grabbing dinner to go before heading on duty. Now, however, she found herself a bit at loose ends. Mary Margaret had plans of her own, a "date" with a stack of tests to grade that she had scheduled for tonight so that they could go out the following day, and Emma told her to stick with the original plan. They didn't have much food in the loft, so Emma headed out to Granny's on her own, figuring that she'd try the special Ruby had been complaining about that morning.

Ruby, unfortunately, had been right. Granny's meatloaf and lasagna might have been great, but her chicken pot pie was watery, the crust was undercooked, and the entire thing was dry. It didn't taste too bad, but the overall presentation of the meal was rather so-so. That left Emma picking at the pot pie itself after she devoured her side of fries, wondering if she should order an ice cream sundae and just forget eating the rest of her actual meal. At least Henry wasn't there to see her eating like a teenager—Emma had learned the hard way that ten year olds really did watch what adults ate, and one little slip meant the kid in question thought that he could eat like crap, too.

"Eating alone?"

Emma's head snapped up, and she found herself looking at Graham's smiling face. "Uh, yeah. Mary Margaret had plans, Henry's at dinner at his grandmother's…you know. The life of a single gal."

"Well, then, can this single guy join you?" he asked lightly.

"Sure." Emma shrugged. "Why not?"

"Thanks. Eating alone gets old, and I stink at cooking."

"I know how you feel. I'm okay with a stove, but my repertoire is a little limited. Mary Margaret's better, but two single women living together aren't much healthier than guys when it comes to cooking."

That made Graham laugh, and Emma notice how handsome he was. Oh, he was the rugged good looks type, not conventionally attractive, and really not the 'wrong kind of guy' that Emma had formed a habit of getting involved with over the years. Contrary to the weird nature of this town that seemed to make everyone miserable, Graham was a genuinely good guy, and although he sometimes seemed very sad, he appeared to be less affected by the generalized melancholy than most people. He smiled easily, treated Emma like a human being and a valued employee, and she really did enjoy his company.

"So, I take it you're discovering that today's special isn't all that special?" Graham quipped as Ruby wandered towards them.

"It leaves a bit to be desired, yeah," she answered.

"Burger, beer, and fries, Graham?" Ruby asked, popping her gum noisily.

"Yep," he said with a grin. "Did you expect something else?"

"Nope," she smiled back. "Comin' right up."

Ruby sauntered off, and Emma peered at Graham. "You're that predictable, huh?"

"I always order that on Wednesdays," he replied with a shrug. "Been doing that for…oh, as long as I can remember. I've never liked the pot pie."

"How long is that?" Emma asked curiously. There was a little voice in the back of her head that sounded suspiciously like Henry, and it had told her to ask that question. After all, if Henry was right—and Regina, too, who either believed Henry or was humoring him—no one here really remembered how long they had lived in Storybrooke, did they?

"Hell if I know." Graham shrugged like that was unimportant, but Henry would have told her that was just the curse warping his mind. "Pretty much ever since I was a kid, I guess. At least ever since I started coming to Granny's."

"And since this is pretty much the only place to eat in town…you're always here."

"Well, that's not true. There's the Rabbit Hole—though anything other than peanuts sucks there—Storybrooke Coffee, Dave's Fish and Chips, and La Tandoor."

"So…a dive, a diner, a coffee shop, a cheap seafood place, and a fancy place. That's the sum of Storybrooke, huh?"

"Yup," Graham agreed as Ruby delivered his beer, burger, and fries. "That's pretty much it."

Laughing with Graham was so easy that Emma almost forgot that she was in the weirdest town on the planet, sitting with a guy who Henry claimed was the Huntsman out of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. She hadn't felt this connected with a guy since she'd met the man she'd thought was the love of her life in a stolen car, but at least she could be pretty sure that Storybrooke's Sheriff wouldn't turn out to be a criminal who would ditch her with stolen goods and let her go to jail for him. Even if he was the Huntsman—which Emma didn't believe for a moment—at least then he was a good guy who'd gotten his heart stolen by an evil queen and couldn't be held accountable for his actions. Better than a guy who couldn't resist stealing twenty k in watches. Neal did that to himself.

"So," she asked casually. "If you're here for dinner, why did you ask Keith to take your shift? I thought you had plans."

"Oh, I do," Graham replied around a mouth full of burger. "Jus' later tonight."

"Like a date?" Emma asked curiously.

"No! Definitely not like a date," he replied quickly, although Emma thought he went a little red. Or pale? It was hard to tell. Either way, he didn't look terribly excited for whatever he had planned for evening, and Emma found herself more than a little pleased to see that. She'd spent years not getting attached to anyone, telling herself that she had learned her lesson. Maybe it was just something about this place, something about Storybrooke, that made her tired of being alone. Living with Mary Margaret, getting to know her son—and even her son's adopted parents—made Emma feel like she was part of something for the first time in a very long time. And that was…nice.

So she smiled at Graham and banished her worries, telling herself that you only lived once, and she could do a lot worse than flirt with the cutest guy in this crazy small town.

Two beers later, Emma and Graham split ways, and she headed back to the loft. By then, she figured that Mary Margaret would be done with the tests she needed to grade, and maybe they'd watch a movie or something. Storybrooke seemed to have a very limited number of movies—most of which seemed to have been new in the nineties—so Emma's DVD collection was definitely something Mary Margaret had been excited to see. The next movie on their list was Iron Man 2, which Mary Margaret had never seen but was excited for. Robert Downey Junior really is good motivation to go home, Emma thought, grinning to herself as she came up the stairs.

Only to have her grin vanish as she came around the corner to find that the loft's front door was already open, and Mary Margaret was facing down with a handsome, dark haired man who was several inches taller than she was. He was leaning on the doorframe casually, but something in his body language screamed predator to Emma, despite the designer clothes he wore. Mary Margaret was facing him shakily, tense and unhappy, and her eyes immediately fell on her roommate.

"Emma!" Mary Margaret called with relief. "You're home!"

"Yup," she replied, walking up and waiting for the guy to move. He didn't. "Hey, uh, in case you didn't notice, I live here, and you're standing in my way."

"Right. Of course." He turned a charming smile on Emma and stuck out a hand. "I'm Jefferson."

Emma took his hand automatically, but not without asking: "Like Jefferson the stalker? The guy who won't take no for an answer?"

"I wouldn't go that far," he replied, turning an admittedly pretty frown on her. "I'm just persistent, particularly when it's someone worth fighting for."

He tried the charming smile on Mary Margaret, but Emma's roommate flinched. The motion was almost imperceptible, but Emma had always been good at noticing things about people. Yeah, what Mary Margaret told me before was just the tip of the iceberg. She's scared of this guy. Squaring her shoulders, Emma shoved past Jefferson and into the flat, moving to stand next to Mary Margaret. The other woman seemed to take comfort from her presence, and Emma shot her a grin.

"You want this guy fighting for you?" she asked bluntly.

Mary Margaret shook her head. "No," she said softly. "I'd rather…not. Definitely not."

Her voice grew stronger with every word, and Emma was damned proud of her. Mary Margaret didn't lack courage; she just seemed unable to call upon it sometimes. Emma had yet to figure out why an otherwise strong woman sometimes turned into an absolute mouse, but she wasn't going to let anything happen to her while she was around. So, she grinned nastily at Jefferson, crossing her arms and putting on her best 'I'm a Sheriff's Deputy' face and said:

"Looks like you'd better get lost, then. And don't come back unless you want me to arrest you."

"Arrest me?" Jefferson scoffed. "You can't do that."

"Of course I can. In case you haven't noticed, I'm a cop. And stalking's against the law, even here in Storybrooke."

"That's really cute," he replied, and his arrogance was enough to make Emma roll her eyes. "But you can't do that. I know every lawyer in this town. Charges would never stick."

Emma snorted, shifting to place her right hand on her gun. Having one was still new to her, but she wasn't exactly a stranger to how even touching a weapon could intimidate even the biggest asshole. It worked here, too; Jefferson flinched ever so slightly and Emma smirked. "You want to see how cute I can be? Keep pressing and I'll arrest you now."

Angry eyes met hers; Emma just waited.

"I was just…leaving," the arrogant jerk said. "See you later, Mary Margaret."

"No you won't," Emma's roommate said, and Emma could have hugged her. In fact, she did once Jefferson was gone, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and grinning.

"See, that's how you get rid of creeps. Next we'll buy you a gun and you can just shoot the bastard if he comes back."

"Oh, I couldn't do that!"

Emma laughed. "I bet you're a great shot."

5 Years Before the Curse

"Well done, Hatter," Cora purred, watching the portal jumper and her stepdaughter emerge from the hat in an empty field a few miles away from the capital city. She greeted both with a smile, noting the angry expression Snow's face and enjoying every moment of the girl's agony.

Eva's daughter was miserable, and Cora knew why. After all, she had Snow's heart in her keeping, which was how she had forced her dear stepdaughter to go on this mission to Oz. Cora didn't need to physically hold a heart to command the person from whence it came; no, she only needed to do that if she wanted to force the person to say or do specific things. In Snow's case, threatening her father had been motivation enough to keep Snow from saying anything regrettable; not that the Hatter would have cared much. He cared for the gold Cora would give him and the guarantees she could provide of a good life for his daughter.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," the Hatter replied with a bow.

"Here is your payment," she said, holding out a bag of gold, which the Hatter promptly took, pressing a few folded sheets of paper into her hands in exchange. He bowed again, and then retreated as Cora teleported herself and Snow away in a swirl of purple smoke. They landed in Cora's private boudoir, and Snow wheeled on Cora, her eyes wide and betrayed.

"Are you happy now?" the twenty year old princess demanded. "I fetched your poppies for you, and the Hatter got you that information on that Wicked Witch that you wanted. Now what?"

"Now I keep your heart," Cora purred, and watched all the color leave Eva's daughter's face. She laughed softly. "Did you think I would give it back?"

"You promised!"

"Oh, I will keep my promise. Provided you behave yourself," she smiled.

"And my father?" Snow demanded, her eyes wide and frightened. Her fear was delicious, absolutely intoxicating. Cora had played the loving stepmother for too long, had swallowed her fury while she watched Eva's 'pure' daughter prance about as Leopold's heir apparent. She had gritted her teeth and pretended to be pleased as Snow was honored, slowly encouraging Leopold to elevate Regina into Snow's equal. The spells on him helped, of course, but Leopold loved his daughter, and that kind of love was some of the hardest to break. She'd countered that with a sickness which had made the king into an invalid for the past year—and Cora his regent—but even that was less useful.

"Perfectly safe, of course," Cora lied. She knew the spells were weakening. She even knew that Regina was playing a major part in that, because her daughter was far too attached to her younger stepsister. Regina's foolishness would have to be overcome; one of these days, Cora would probably have to remove her own daughter's heart to teach Regina how to be properly dispassionate. But there was time yet. The spells were still plenty strong, and Cora's power in the kingdom was absolute.

"He doesn't love you," the foolish girl spat, and Cora laughed. "Your magic can't hold him forever!"

"You foolish little princess." Cora almost felt sorry for her. Almost. But never for Eva's daughter. She remembered her promise to the dead queen. She would turn Snow's heart as black as coal, turn her into everything her mother would have hated. Then Cora would have revenge for the way Eva had taken the crown that should have been hers from the beginning. "Love doesn't matter. Only power matters."

"Love will always matter," the idealist declared, and Cora laughed.

"Go back to your rooms, Snow. And tell no one I have your heart—including your dear stepsister—if you want to live."

A/N:Thank you to everyone who has reviewed! What do you think is going to happen to poor Snow now that Cora has her heart in the past?

Next up: Chapter Twelve: "Meant to Be", in which Mary Margaret Blanchard and David Nolan start talking, Emma drops by to have a chat with Lacey, and Emma confronts Graham over something suspicious. Back in the past, Rumplestiltskin and Belle are still in Amorveria and getting used to being married.