Chapter Twenty-Four—"In the Crossfire"

Emma had spent the morning talking to Errol Forrester about the various things that could have started the fire that almost killed Henry, because she would be damned if she would stay out of it like Cora seemed to assume she would. The fire department had been going through the rubble since dawn, and although they hadn't reached any firm conclusions, there was one thing that Forrester seemed sure of: no matter how old the building or how flammable the books, the fire should never have spread that fast. So far, he said that he'd found six different origin points for the fire, and there might have very well been more. Forrester was too smart to speculate on how that might have happened (particularly with the thorny D.A. listening on), but Emma got the hint.

That fire had been set by someone, and her son had been caught in the crossfire.

"What took you so long?" she demanded, turning to watch Regina walk into the Sheriff's Station as if nothing was wrong. Emma had texted Regina hours ago, and she figured that the other woman would be more than eager to learn about the fire that had almost taken Henry's life.

"Some of us do have other jobs to do," Regina replied with a scowl.

"You're working today?"

"Does my mother look like someone who embraces the idea of a day off?" the older woman retorted. "Of course I am. This is my lunch break, though, so it had better be good."

"Forrester says the fire was set by someone," Emma answered bluntly, figuring that would catch Regina's attention. Unfortunately, it hardly made her twitch.

"I'm not surprised," Regina said.

"What?" Emma gaped.

That finally made Regina sigh, although she looked more frustrated and tired than angry. "We've told you what kind of town this is, Emma," the mayor's daughter said. "I have no doubt my mother was behind that, although you'll never prove it."

"What does she have against the library?" she asked, struggling to wrap her mind around the mayor setting—or ordering set—a fire that had endangered her grandson's life.

"I'm not sure it's the library she was after," Regina replied quietly, looking away.

"What—wait a minute, what the hell are you saying?" Emma demanded, reading the defeated look on Regina's face. Coldness seized her own heart; Regina couldn't be saying that…that… "What do you mean?"

"I mean that my mother doesn't appreciate defiance, okay?" was the sharp response. "I've helped you too much. I have to distance myself from this, if only to keep Henry safe. She warned me, but I obviously didn't get the message until yesterday."

"You're saying that your mother tried to have Henry killed?" Emma couldn't believe it. "What the hell kind of woman tries to burn her own grandson to death?"

"If you need me to answer that, you obviously haven't been listening," Regina replied, turning for the door. "I can't help you right now, Emma. You've got to do this on your own, but break the damn curse. It's the only way any of us are going to be safe."

Regina walked out before Emma could even think of a response to that, leaving the sheriff blinking in her wake. It was insane. It was all insane. This crazy little town had just utterly jumped off the deep end, and Emma didn't know how the hell she was going to cope with this. On one hand, her every instinct told her that she should grab Henry and get the hell out of town, but then what about Regina and David? They were good parents; it was Cora who was crazy. Crazy enough to light a library on fire? Emma wondered.

She didn't know.

5 Years Before the Curse

"I see you're back from visiting Rumple," her mother said as Regina teleported back into her own rooms. "How is our dear Dark One?"

"Kinder than you are," Regina shot back without thinking, and Cora laughed softly.

"Don't pout, darling. It will ruin your complexion."

Regina glared. "I don't care."

"Do remember the terms of our arrangement before you get impertinent," Cora replied lightly. "You behave yourself, and your beloved Daniel lives. If you do not, he will die an excruciating death, and you will watch."

"You remind me of it constantly! How am I supposed to forget that I have no choice?" she snapped, already bent past the breaking point. Poor Daniel had been dumped back in his old dungeon without so much as a healing spell after Cora tortured him in the forest. That was a lesson for Regina, her mother had told them both, without even a smile to show how satisfied she was. Poor Daniel was probably down there now, suffering and alone, all because Regina was too weak to take her mother down.

"Of course you have a choice," was the purred reply. "You simply don't like it." Her mother rose gracefully from her chair, coming over to lay a hand on Regina's shoulder. She pulled away, or tried to, but Cora's fingers dug in painfully. Regina scowled, but her mother continued: "The only way to change your life, Regina, is with power. Power is freedom, and until you embrace that, you will have neither."

"You don't want to give me freedom," she replied bitterly.

"Of course I do. I only want what's best for you, as any mother should."

"Fine way you have of showing it."

Cora smiled sadly. "I have made sure that you will be a queen one day, and when that day comes, you will be able to do whatever you like. And I will make sure that you will be powerful enough that no one will be able to take it from you, no matter what."

"I don't want power, Mama. I want love."

"You can have that after you have power, darling. Otherwise, it's meaningless."

Regina hardly slept that night, tossing and turning in the bed beside David and imagining what would have happened if Errol Forrester hadn't jumped into a fire to save her beloved son. Now, sitting in her office the day after the fire, she felt no better. Mother tried to kill Henry, she thought for the thousandth time, the words echoing over and over again in her mind. Until Cora had threatened him, Regina had thought that her son would be safe because he was Cora's grandson, and Cora had always wanted her family to follow in her footsteps. She'd insisted on the Nolans being the perfect little Storybrooke family, and that included Henry—until Cora had flat out told Regina that Henry wasn't her blood, so he didn't matter. And then she had tried to burn the library down with Henry inside, something she did not even deny when Regina cornered her with it the night before.

She wanted to kill her mother.

Had there been a way to do so, Regina thought she might even try. But Cora was too powerful here in Storybrooke, and she'd just smiled slightly at Regina and reminded her of that while they 'celebrated' Henry's survival in the mayor's posh home. David and Henry were oblivious; David because he was cursed to be so, and Henry because even a boy who believed wholeheartedly that his grandmother was the Evil Queen couldn't quite believe that the same grandmother wanted to kill him. But Regina knew.

She had to keep Henry safe. She'd tried so hard, tried so many times to protect Daniel, and in the end her mother had still won. Defiance had done nothing for her in the Enchanted Forest, and as much as Regina hated herself for the thought, the effect here would be the same. Cora knew her too well, and there were too many ways for her mother to hurt Henry. Regina had to keep Henry as her first priority, at least until Emma finally started making enough of a racket to monopolize Cora's attention. Henry was more important than breaking any curse, and Regina would protect him with the last breath in her body. Even if it meant she had to live in a cursed Storybrooke for the rest of her life.

"So," Henry said around a mouthful of pizza that same evening, "when are you going to tell me about my dad?"

Emma froze. They'd been eating dinner together in the Sheriff's Station—Emma was still working late hours to catch up on the paperwork, particularly since she'd spent the morning out of the station talking about the fire—and they'd been talking about the curse. She'd been trying like hell to change the subject, but if Emma had known that Henry was going to go in this direction, she would have been happy to keep talking about curses, black magic, and evil stepmothers.

"What?" she managed to ask, swallowing hard.

"My real dad. I mean, I know David's actually my grandfather, so who's my real dad? I get that he's not someone from the Enchanted Forest," the ten year old replied bluntly, grabbing another slice of pizza nonchalantly. "But that doesn't mean I don't want to know about him."

Emma knew her eyes were wide and spooked, but she couldn't do a damn thing to get her expression under control. "Henry, I…"

She had no idea what she was going to say when she trailed off. She was just out of words.

"It's okay if you don't like him anymore," Henry said. "I get that not everyone's parents are married, and not everyone finds their True Love. I just want to know about him."

Swallowing again, Emma forced herself to shrug. "There's not much to say," she said quietly.

"You could start with his name."

"It's not that simple," she answered, turning away to study one of the empty jail cells. Emma hadn't thought about Neal in years. She'd been determined not to. So, how was she supposed to explain that to this boy who had Neal's brown eyes and Neal's mischievous grin? Emma tried so hard not to see Neal in the son he'd left her with. Usually, she managed just fine, but having Henry ask brought all of that right into the forefront of her mind.

Henry shrugged. "Is it ever?"

Emma tried to smile for him, but the attempt failed miserably. She just didn't know what to say, didn't know how to answer his questions. A suspiciously heavy weight had started forming in the vicinity of her heart, something painful that she hadn't experienced in years. A moment of silence passed before her kid asked very quietly:

"Does he even know about me?"

She shook her head. "He broke my heart," Emma admitted in a whisper, dropping her head to stare at the desk.

She didn't want to tell Henry that his biological father had sent her to jail. But what if Henry wanted to contact his father? What if—

"It's okay," Henry said suddenly, and Emma hesitantly looked up at him.

His brown eyes were full of warmth, and for a moment, they reminded her so very painfully of the first man she'd ever fallen in love with. Neal had been able to be like that, too; so kind-hearted and so playful. She'd never understand why he sent her to jail, and Emma thought a part of her heart would always be broken after that betrayal. She'd trusted him. Hell, she'd been ready to marry him, to settle down and... And to give Henry a real family. The realization hit Emma hard, but she had already been pregnant with Henry when it had all fallen apart. Had things gone differently, she and Neal might have gone to Tallahassee together, might have raised Henry together, and everything would have been so different.

He wouldn't have been caught in a fire that nearly killed him because of some crazy adopted grandmother, that's for certain, Emma thought fiercely, but her musings were cut off when the boy she'd sent away took her hand.

"I get it," Henry continued with a wry smile. "But will you promise to tell me about him sometime? Later, I mean. It doesn't have to be now."

Emma bit her lip and nodded. "I promise, kid."

"Good."

More than 200 Years Before the Curse

"You have stains on your boots," Baelfire pointed out and Rumplestiltskin watched his son's friend—Morraine, he thought—dart away. She was afraid of him, and despite Rumplestiltskin's outward protestations that the other children would get used to him, the darkness inside him knew that would not be the case. And the curse liked that fear.

"Ah, yes, that. Uh, we need a new maid," he said, feeling an odd twinge of guilt within him. But he'd done the right thing. Hadn't he? Anyone knowing about the dagger would be a danger to him. To them both.

She needed to die, the curse told him, coiling up in his mind, in his soul. It had all but replaced his own thoughts at this point, and it was impossible to know where Rumplestiltskin ended and the curse began. Or even if the human that had been Rumplestiltskin still existed at all. Perhaps he did not; perhaps the curse had completely consumed his soul, and his altered personality was all that remained. He found himself not really caring for the girl who had been their maid, but his son looked horrified.

"Gods, no!" Bae drew back in terror, and Rumplestiltskin felt his heart clench. The curse didn't care, but he did, and even as it seemed to shrug in his mind, he tried to explain:

"She heard us talking about the knife."

"She was mute!" his son objected. "She couldn't tell anyone!"

Mutes have betrayed people before, the curse pointed out, and it sounded rather logical to Rumplestiltskin's warped mind. Sons have betrayed people before. You should not have told him! He shoved the last point aside with an effort; Baelfire would never betray them. They were each all the other hand in the world, and Rumplestiltskin loved his boy more than anything. But the curse would not let go of the idea; it growled and clawed at him, weaving darkness through his thoughts and sending a thousand images through his mind of how previous Dark Ones had been betrayed, of sons and daughters taking the dagger and enslaving their parents.

He didn't know how many of those images were true memories and how many were just the creation of the curse, but they still put him on edge. To counter that, Rumplestiltskin tried to keep his voice flippant when he replied. After all, the girl was unimportant. Her family hadn't wanted her, and he'd killed her quickly enough, hadn't he?

"Even mutes can draw a picture," he said with a shrug, patting his son on the shoulder and heading towards home. Bae would get over it. He was a good boy.

But Baelfire didn't follow right away; instead his son snarled back:

"That dagger has become everything to you, hasn't it?" the fourteen year old demanded. "It's more important than anything else. That, and power."

He said the last word like it was something evil, and Rumplestiltskin turned in confusion. Power is everything, the curse whispered. You need more. More power. More magic. Without power, you are nothing. Without power, they can hurt you again! With an effort, he tried to seperate his own mind from the whispers, shaking his head and trying to be rational.

"I only want power to protect you," he explained, not comprehending why Baelfire couldn't understand that. "To protect us. Without it, we'd go back to the life we had before, back to being nothing. You can't want that."

"I don't want this!"

"Bae—" he tried, but his son jerked away, tears shining in brown eyes.

"I bet that you'd choose it if you had to choose between the dagger and me," the boy said bitterly, and Rumplestiltskin's shock was finally great enough to drive the curse into silence. He can't truly believe… With an effort, he managed to catch his son by the shoulders.

"Baelfire," he said softly, and waited for the boy to look up at him. "I love you more than anything. I did this, I took on this terrible curse, to save you. And I would give up anything I had to if it would keep you safe."

"Except power," was the biter response.

"Even that," Rumplestiltskin whispered. "I love you, Bae. I may have changed, but that never will. Please believe that."

A moment of silence passed as Bae bit his lip, but finally the boy nodded. "I know, Papa. I just want you back, that's all."

Chest tight, Rumplestiltskin pulled his boy close, holding onto him for several long minutes. Bae hugged him back silently, and for a moment, Rumplestiltskin could fool himself into believing that nothing had changed, and that his attempt to save his son hadn't driven this insurmountable wedge between them.

He will never understand, the curse whispered in his mind. He hates what you are now. Best to let him go, or kill him to keep the dagger safe. But that very thought made Rumplestiltskin sick, made the man assert himself over the monster—ever so slightly—and he hugged his boy tighter. Still, the curse continued: You cannot go back. No matter what.

At least Regina had gotten the message, Cora thought behind an outwardly impassive façade. The family dinner she'd hosted after the fire had made sure of that, although Cora was still not pleased with the outcome. Damn that outlaw! She had not anticipated that Robin of Locksley would ever cause a problem here in Storybrooke; he'd been content to live out his sad little life with his son, and Cora had not gone out of her way to make him miserable. She had barely remembered that he existed, or that she'd had his wife killed years before. Locksley had been utterly unimportant until he'd suddenly rescued three people she wanted dead.

After all, Cora had not been adverse to killing three birds with one stone. Disposing of Henry—and therefore driving the irritating Miss Swan out of town—might have been her primary goal, but Cora had chosen the library for a reason. She'd wanted to see the look on Gold's face when his little whore (who he claimed was nothing, but she suspected was at least a bit more than that to him) burned to a crisp, taking her brat with her. Cora had been rewarded, and her suspicions confirmed, by the expression of sheer horror he had worn stepping out of the shop, but she had wanted the French girl dead, not frightened. I suppose that leaving her destitute and jobless serves as something of a consolation prize, Cora told herself, straightening her already immaculate desk. I can enjoy that. The real problem, however, remained Sheriff Swan.

Regina knew her place. That much was clear. Her daughter would not try to act out again, not with memories of Daniel fresh in her mind once more, along with a demonstration of her mother's power so close at hand. The problem was Eva's granddaughter, the damn Savior who Rumplestiltskin had woven into the curse. Because he had, the bastard, and Cora had been fool enough to refuse his deal when he offered to tell her more. She couldn't even recall what he'd wanted in exchange now—it had been over twenty-eight years—but she remembered taking a bit of pleasure in denying him at the time. Now, however, she had cause to regret her own vindictiveness. Remember not to do that again, Cora told herself dispassionately. She had allowed a wildcard into her town, and it was proving very difficult to get the Savior to leave. Killing her was, unfortunately, not a viable option, either, so Cora would have to resort to other tactics.

At times like this, she devoutly missed magic. Power of any flavor was welcome, of course, and useful, but magic would have given her so many options when it came to dealing with Eva's obnoxious granddaughter. What magic she had, the curse, would not act against its little Savior, thanks to Rumple's airtight construction of the beast. Cora scowled, but thinking of her former lover gave her an idea.

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. This world's laws were not so different from the way Rumplestiltskin taught magic. Emma's actions gave her options, didn't they? All she had to do was manipulate events, and Cora would be able to overcome the Savior. Without magic.

Smiling coldly, she reached for the phone.

Mary Margaret heard the shouting before she even came around the corner. She'd been heading towards Granny's to catch breakfast before going to school—her finances were in such better shape with Emma splitting the rent, and she could finally afford to treat herself from time to time. But the loud and angry voices made her completely forget about her appetite and rush over to where Francis Scadlock faced off with his estranged (and recently released from the secret Asylum) wife. Both looked out of breath, like they'd been shouting for a while, and neither seemed to care about the growing crowd of onlookers.

"You're barking mad!" Francis Scadlock retorted to whatever the pretty blonde facing him had said, his face red with anger and his words louder than before. "You make me wonder if the lot of you didn't actually belong in that bloody secret asylum!"

"Will, how can you say that?" Victoria Scadlock (who claimed her name was Anastaisa, Mary Margaret recalled) replied, looking horrified. "I'm not crazy. I've never been crazy. Is she making you say this?"

"No one's making me say a damn thing," the Daily Mirror's editor snorted. "It's you who can't remember what happened. We've been over for years, Vicky, and I don't want to see your ugly face ever again."

He could have slapped his wife and had her look less shocked; Victoria stared at him like he'd ripped her heart out. For a long moment, she seemed unable to catch her breath, her eyes wide and full of pain, until she wheeled to look at the entire crowd.

"What is wrong with you people?" she demanded. "Don't any of you remember anything?"

No one said a word; everyone just stared and looked away when Victoria tried to meet their eyes. What is wrong with everyone? Mary Margaret wondered. Can't anyone be bothered to help an obviously lonely and frightened woman? Finally, she stepped forward, taking Victoria gently by the arm. The other woman turned to glare at her, but the expression softened when Mary Margaret offered a smile in exchange. There was defeat behind the anger, though, and Mary Margaret squeezed her arm reassuringly.

"How about I take you to breakfast, Vicky?" she asked quietly.

"Don't bother," Francis interjected bitterly. "She's late for her appointment with Doctor Hopper already."

"Then how about I walk you there, instead?" Mary Margaret suggested, and Victoria snarled softly.

"Fine. It's not like talking to this blockhead is getting me anywhere." She glared at her husband. "Find me when you get your head on straight, Will."

"I keep telling you that my name isn't—"

"Give it up, Scadlock," a new voice interjected, and Mary Margaret turned to beam at David Nolan as he stepped out of the crowd. "She's leaving. So leave her alone."

"How is this my fault?" the editor demanded, but Mary Margaret ignored whatever else he said, leading Victoria up the stairs to Archie's office as gently as she could. There was something seriously wrong with the other woman, and it seemed worse than the amnesia that Leroy believed it was. Hopefully Archie could help her, because Mary Margaret had no idea what to do with her.

Ten minutes later, Mary Margaret finally settled into a booth at Granny's having just enough time to get food before having to head out to class. She managed to catch Ruby's eye, and the waitress hurried towards her, only to be beaten by someone else.

"Is this seat taken?" David Nolan asked with a smile.

Mary Margaret felt herself flush slightly, although she wasn't sure why. She knew that she shouldn't be attracted to this man—and she wasn't!—but there was something about David that drew her in. He was nothing like Jefferson or any of the other men she'd ever dated; he was kind, and Mary Margaret could talk to him for hours. They'd caught themselves doing that more than once, usually when David came to pick Henry up from the loft, but Mary Margaret knew they could only be friends. David was married, after all, and Regina was nothing like her horrible mother. Regina was a lovely woman, one who seemed trying to befriend Mary Margaret, too, and Mary Margaret would not do this to her.

"By you," she replied with an answering grin before she could stop herself.

David lowered himself into the seat just in time for Ruby to come over and take their orders, and then asked: "Is Vicky Scadlock okay? She looked pretty confused."

"Archie says that she's having a harder time than anyone else who was locked up in that terrible place. She seems to have replaced her memories with some fantasy about fairy tale characters and a whole 'nother world as a way of coping," she replied with a sigh. "He's going to try to help her sort things out."

"That's good, because her jerk of a husband doesn't seem terribly interested in doing that."

"Yeah." Francis Scadlock didn't seem like a bad man, but he was one of the mayor's closest toadies, and who you were friends with said a lot about people, in Mary Margaret's opinion. "He probably figured that his life didn't have room for a crazy wife, and was glad to be rid of her."

"I take it there's no news on why anyone was down there, other than Beauregard being locked up for putting them there?" David asked, and Mary Margaret shook her head.

"Nothing I've heard, but you're the one married to the mayor's assistant. And daughter."

He laughed. "Regina's staying far away from this one, and from me, it seems," David said lightly, and Mary Margaret found herself taking his hand before she could stop herself.

"Oh, no. Is something wrong?"

"You know, I have no idea. Regina and I have had our problems, but we seem to be better friends than ever, now…just not in love at all. It's not just her, either. I feel the same way. We talked about it last night, and, well, it's complicated."

Her heart did not leap at that thought. It didn't.

5 Years Before the Curse

They'd been on the run for two days when they ran into Red, made a horrendous faux pas in regards to who the dangerous werewolf in her village was, and then wound up taking the other young woman along with them while they worked to stay ahead of Cora's soldiers. Finally, when the black guards in the south of the kingdom had obviously been notified of their presence, the three of them settled down to hide in the woods, building a campsite that was so far off the beaten path that no one would find them. After their first night together, the three worked out a bit of a pattern, and right now Red was off hunting while David built a fire to cook whatever she brought back. Snow wasn't terribly good at hunting or fires, but she was learning quickly, the fascinated look on her face just made David smile.

"You're awfully good at this, for a prince," she said after a moment of listening to the new fire crackle. "Roughing it, I mean."

David shrugged, trying to come up with an excuse. "It's a useful skill to have."

"You're full of surprises, aren't you, Charming?"

"I do have a name," he pointed out, knowing he oughtn't. "You even know it."

Now it was Snow's turn to shrug. "You were just so different when I met you…James doesn't seem to fit. Not the way I know you now."

The way she knew him was via long distance courtship, courier-delivered letters, and a few days in a whirlwind of finding love at first sight and feeling it grow into something more. Their marriage was designed to be political, designed to merge two kingdoms together like some sort of business transaction, but it had ceased to be a convenience the moment Snow's older stepsister showed up and asked for his help rescuing her. What were they now? David wasn't sure. He knew that he was in love with Snow, that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever encountered, and had the kindest soul besides. But the rest was a mystery.

"I, uh…well, what if I told you that there's a reason for that difference?" David asked before he could stop himself.

"I could have guessed that," she replied with a grin.

"James was my twin brother."

A moment of stunned silence passed before Snow yelped: "What?"

"Identical, of course," he added with a cheeky shrug.

"But…but King George never mentioned having two sons," Snow said, obviously confused. "And why wouldn't he? I'm sure Cora would have thought that was great news; then she could have married each of us to one of you and had everything."

Hearing the bitterness in Snow's voice made David reach out to take her hand. "It's not quite that simple," he explained. "It's…well, I grew up away from the palace. No one knew about me, until my brother died. I didn't ever know him, but I gather he was a little…"

"Arrogant? Conceited?" his love supplied immediately. "Utterly full of himself?"

"I was going to say obnoxious, but yes," he smiled back, having heard at length from George about how badly James' second meeting with both princesses went, and how he was absolutely not to repeat the same mistakes. Instinct, however, told David that it wasn't time to tell her the complete truth, that neither he nor his brother were actually George's sons. There were plenty of tales out there about princes who had been hidden away for their own safety, and although he felt a bit guilty for letting her believe that, it was probably safest. George wouldn't thank David for having said this much, but Snow at least deserved to know that he wasn't the idiot that had turned her off so thoroughly the first time.

"I knew it," she finally said.

"You did?"

Shrugging eloquently, she gave him a little smile. "Well, I knew there was something different about you, anyway. I don't think I could ever have fallen in love with a man like James."

"What about a man like me?" David asked without thinking.

Snow leaned in to kiss him lightly. "I think I already have."

Coming home from the shop to find Belle and his daughter there was something akin to a miracle. Even Gold had dreamed more than once of returning to the pink mansion to find a scene like this: Belle with Renee on her lap, sitting on the couch with their daughter absolutely engrossed in the fairytale she was reading her. Just looking at them made his heart fill near to bursting, made a strange feeling of light and love push back even the darkness lurking within him. Renee might not have understood that Rumplestiltskin was her father, but he could carve out a place for himself in her life despite that. Explaining to her that he actually was her father might prove risky; an excited three year old was likely to share that knowledge with all and sundry. But he could still be there for her, and he would, Rumplestiltskin promised himself.

I chose power over a child once. I will never, ever do that again. It was a vow he had made a thousand times, and would make a thousand more, but Rumplestiltskin meant it. He would do everything he could, move mountains and destroy worlds—if that was what it took—to keep his family safe. That was a useful outlet for his darkness, and Rumplestiltskin felt the curse coiling in his mind, quieter here without magic but still an irrefutable part of him. It was not fond of love, did not like the way he felt for his family, but the curse understood determination and it understood violence. It would help protect his family, provided he kept it fed along the way.

The delicate balance between love and his darkness was one he'd struggled with for a long time, that he'd finally discovered after losing Bae and had clung to ever since. When Belle looked up at him with a radiant smile, however, it helped push the curse further down, because the way her eyes were shining made his heart skip a beat.

"Hey," his wife said, and Rumplestiltskin limped around the back of the couch to kiss the top of her head.

"Hey yourself," he breathed, and felt his chest tighten as Renee looked up at him with his own big brown eyes. "And hello to you, too."

His daughter gave him a big smile, and then hesitated before asking: "Are you gonna be my Daddy?"

The question hit hard enough to make Rumplestiltskin stagger back a step; it was Belle who gasped:

"What—What gives you that idea, sweetie?"

"We move in," Renee answered solemnly, by which both her parents realized the little girl meant that she understood—probably from Lacey and Belle's stories—that was what happened when people moved in together. They became family.

"Moved," Belle corrected the child, obviously automatically, as her wide eyes found Rumplestiltskin's. They'd talked about this, had discussed the risks of telling Renee too much before she remembered she was Gabrielle…but looking at his daughter's hopeful eyes absolutely did Rumplestiltskin in.

Leaning his cane against the back of the couch, he reached out for the three year old (who wasn't really three; she'd been that age for so long that some extra development was bound to happen, and he rather suspected that a side effect of the curse would be extra-early maturity for most of the children who had been cursed). Belle handed her over immediately, and Rumplestiltskin hefted his daughter into his arms so that he could look her in the eye.

"Would you like that?" he asked softly, a little hesitantly. Renee had always liked Gold—and Gold, bless his armored little heart, had adored her—but this was something he'd been entirely unprepared for.

But Renee just nodded.

"Well, then," Rumplestiltskin replied with a smile. "I will be."

Small arms wrapped around his neck, and in that moment, Rumplestiltskin didn't care what dangers Cora could pose; he had his family together again and he would not let them go. Now all I have to do is get the curse broken and find Bae. But he could not change that now. Now, he just held his daughter close and tried to find a little peace.

A few hours after dinner, with Renee finally asleep, Rumplestiltskin and Belle finally made it to the room that had become theirs. They'd both been so desperate the night before, so relieved and so in love that they'd barely bothered with words—a name here, a kiss there, and they'd utterly lost themselves in one another. It had been twenty-eight years since they'd knowingly been together, and even though their cursed selves had been in love, and neither had been terribly aware of time passing, both Belle and Rumplestiltskin had felt the need to make up for lost time. Partially exhausted from her ordeal in the fire and partially high on emotion, Belle felt like she'd experienced the previous night in something of a dream. Their clothes had wound up in various piles on the floor, and she wasn't sure that Rumple's suit would ever be wearable again. She was certain that her clothes weren't; she'd torn something in her rush to get them off, and Belle still didn't care what. That morning had been time for serious conversation, for tending to the child that the curse had thankfully left with her, and then for Rumple to head to work. Now that their second night in the pink mansion was approaching, she wanted to show him how much she had missed him.

"Dinner was delicious," she told him, feeling a little guilty. But she couldn't help turning it into a bit of a tease: "I wasn't sure if you'd still be able to cook now that you woke up."

Her husband chuckled. "I could cook back in the Enchanted Forest, thank you very much. I just used magic to do it in the Dark Castle because I couldn't be bothered."

"And because I was a terrible cook," Belle agreed with a giggle. No one ever taught ladies to cook, after all; that was something that servants did. Her first few attempts had been hardly edible, and her then-cranky employer had decreed that his magic would handle the food from that moment forward after a particularly burned and lumpy attempt at beef stew.

"Lacey wasn't particularly talented on that front, either," Rumplestiltskin pointed out with a smile, hanging his suit jacket up in the closet they now shared.

"No, Lacey was more the microwave, pasta, and ready-made meal kind of girl," she said, pausing to admire her husband. Oh, she missed the silk and leather he'd worn in the Enchanted Forest—particularly the leather pants, come to think of it—but Belle had to admit that this world's dark suits also looked fabulous on him. Stepping forward, she kissed him lightly. "Gold was always the gourmet."

That made him chuckle, and brought up that self-conscious half smile Belle had always loved. "Well, I'm glad to be of service."

Neither of them mentioned how sad it was that Gold had been the one who cooked himself beautiful and tasty meals every night, the lonely bachelor who ate and drank without anyone there to share it with him. Lacey had been there, from time to time, but their stolen moments had been few and far between. Gold's life had been perfect, on the surface: he had power, immense wealth, immaculate taste, and the skills to make his life even more comfortable, but Cora's design had left him utterly alone. Belle knew without asking that the curse had not intended to allow them to come together, and she knew Rumple hadn't, either. But I'm glad we did, she thought. Even if Rumple worries about us, I'm glad he wasn't completely alone.

"I think I'm going to have to find a way to repay you," Belle replied, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck as he tugged his tie free. "You're cooking for us, working during the day, sending Dove off to buy things…"

Her smile was nothing if not suggestive, but her infuriating husband misinterpreted what she was saying. "Sweetheart, you don't have to repay me—"

Belle kissed him to shut his protests up. "I had something a little more personal in mind," she told him bluntly, still reveling in being able to kiss him.

Of course, she'd always been able to kiss this face, or at least the one time he'd worn it for her, for those two lovely months in Amorveria. So, Belle didn't feel as odd as she might have; although the two faces had long since merged in her mind, she knew the difference. And she liked this human face of his, despite Rumplestiltskin's silly worry that she wouldn't. He looked older than her here, but he was still handsome in a slender and sharp-edged kind of way. She loved him no matter what he looked like, but the feel of human hands against her skin was one she had missed.

"Oh. Well, then."

That seemed all he was able to say, but Belle knew it wasn't from lack of desire. She could read that in his eyes easily enough; human or reptilian, they were the same underneath the outward veneer: warm and loving and sometimes so uncertain. So, she smiled against his lips and started working on the buttons of his shirt, determined to take things slower than their desperate lovemaking of the night before. Rumplestiltskin kissed her next, moving to unzip her dress as he did so, and Belle shivered appreciatively.

"I love you," she whispered, shrugging out of the dress. It was one that had been in the back of his shop—she still hadn't gone shopping and bought clothes more in keeping with Lacey's habits—but was mercifully easy to get off.

He pulled back to look at her, his warm eyes filling with love and awe. "And I love you."

"Good," Belle grinned, and she felt Rumplestiltskin's soft laugh as he pulled her close. Gold's touch had been able to light Lacey on fire, and Rumplestiltskin's worked the same effect on her, just tenfold. Lacey had never understood why she was so drawn to Gold, or why no one else saw in him what she did, but Belle knew. And Belle loved him all the more for it.

One of them finally tossed his shirt and aside, and they fell onto the bed together, still wrapped in one another's arms and with her on top. Belle started kissing her way down his chest, reaching for his belt as she did so. She kept her eyes on his face, a watching his expression soften. He'd loosened his grip enough to let her move, but Belle sought out his left hand with her right, needing to hold onto him to prove to herself this wasn't a dream. Fingers squeezed hers, and Belle smiled. The fingers of her other hand moved down his right side as Rumplestiltskin quivered; she knew how ticklish he was and was and had no problems taking advantage of that fact. She planted a kiss on his sternum and kept working her way downwards, but Belle stopped when her lips hit a raised area of skin. Rumplestiltskin tensed—and not in a good way.

Belle's eyes snapped downwards as she sat up. She hadn't noticed the welts last night; they'd been too desperate for one another and too lonely, and Rumple had gotten out of the shower before she'd woken up. But now she could see them, raised but fading red marks against pale skin. They started on his stomach and disappeared below his belt, and she looked up at him in horror.

"Rumple?" Belle asked quietly, completely forgetting about sex.

He sat up abruptly. "I told you that I didn't want to talk about it."

"Cora." The name grated out from between gritted teeth, and Belle had never hated someone as much as she hated the Evil Queen in that moment.

Her husband didn't answer; he just looked away and closed his eyes. Belle shifted closer to him, still holding his left hand in her right, and reached out to touch his face. He twitched, and then leaned into her touch. The twitch, however, told her a horrible story that Belle wasn't sure she wanted to know, much though she needed to. Had Lacey ever seen marks like this, she wondered, searching her memory? No, Belle didn't think so. Lacey had known Cora was hurting him, but Gold always seemed to wait until the marks faded to let Lacey see anything.

Twenty-eight years. This has been going on for twenty-eight years. For the first time in her life, Belle really wanted to murder someone. But she throttled back her fury. She could see from the tense lines in his shoulders that Rumplestiltskin clearly did not want to talk about this, but she could also tell that he wasn't dealing with it well. Not at all.

"Oh, Rumple," she whispered, and was so glad when he didn't pull away. "It's worse than Gold ever let Lacey know, isn't it?"

"Yes," he admitted softly.

"Why can't you fight her?" Belle had to ask. "This…"

Rumplestiltskin shuddered. "Because her second caveat makes it so I can't," he whispered raggedly. "Literally. The first brings me to her bed. The second makes me submit."

"But why does she hurt you?" It made no sense. Belle knew that Cora had been Rumple's student once, so many years ago, and that they'd had a falling out. But they'd worked together, on and off, to see that the Dark Curse was cast, although that was more a case of Rumplestiltskin goading Cora when required and holding her back when not. Rumple had been very wary of giving her so much power, and had told Belle a hundred times how dangerous Cora could be to their family, but he'd never explained why.

"Because she can," he replied bitterly.

"That's not an answer."

A shaky sigh tore out of him in response, and Belle pulled him close, wrapping her arms around him and grateful for the way Rumplestiltskin melted into her, his own arms slowly returning the embrace. "It's about power," he explained, although Belle heard the note in his voice that always warned her he was leaving something out even as her fingers stroked his hair comfortingly. "And she rather enjoys it."

"Oh." Those last five words made Belle swallow hard, and made her disregard her instinct that said there was something more going on here. She could ask later; for now, Rumple needed her, and she wouldn't let him down. Still, she had to ask: "How bad?"

"Not badly enough that I don't want you," he said softly, bringing his head up, and Belle looked deeply into his brown eyes, seeing uncertainty and conflict there, but most of all love.

"I don't want to hurt you," she whispered.

Rumplestiltskin shrugged. "It's not new."

"Will it?" Belle pressed, pinning him with a look that allowed for no argument.

"A little," Rumplestiltskin admitted, his gaze skittering away from hers.

"Then I'm not—"

"Belle, please," he cut her off in a whisper. "I love you. I want you. And…and it helps me not think of her. Not think of everything." Brown eyes met blue. "I trust you."

She swallowed. "Are you sure?"

"Utterly."

Rumplestiltskin kissed her again, and Belle let herself lose herself in his embrace. He needed this, and she probably did, too; even if it wasn't the healthiest option. It wasn't the worst thing they could do, either, and if Belle detected a hint of desperation in her husband's touch, she was able to soothe that away. He was hurt worse than Lacey had ever guessed, but tonight was not the time to attack that. First, she needed to prove to him that she was there for him, that he wasn't alone. Later, Belle could weasel the rest of the truth out of him. She had time, and she wasn't going to let him face this alone.

A/N: Don't worry Neal/Baelfire fans; this isn't the only time you'll see him. However, that flashback will be important as we move forward in the story, so don't forget it!

Stay tuned for Chapter Twenty-Five: "Looking," in which something important is recovered from the fire, Cora thwarts Emma, romantic feelings stir between David and Mary Margaret (and Regina and Errol), and Cora learns Lacey is living with Gold. Back in the past, Zelena comes to the Enchanted Forest, and Snow and Charming return to George's kingdom.