Chapter Twenty-Seven—"A Perfect Fit"

"We shouldn't do this," Mary Margaret said quietly, but she put her bag into David's truck anyway when he opened the door for her.

They were planning on going for a picnic by the toll bridge, and her old car had broken down again. Under other circumstances, Mary Margaret would have driven herself, but it was a very long walk and David had offered to take her. She knew that she should have said no—driving out there together was hardly subtle—but who could complain if two friends wanted to go bird watch together? That was all they were doing. There was nothing romantic between them. They were just friends.

"I told Regina," David said abruptly, and her head snapped around so fast that Mary Margaret thought that her neck might break.

"You what?" she gasped. They hadn't even talked to each other about what they were doing; they weren't technically in a relationship because neither of them would let themselves be in one. Mary Margaret was just drawn to David, as he was to her, and they'd started meeting—innocently!—for breakfast at Granny's. She couldn't believe that she'd never really sat down with him before. Being around David was like coming home, like finding the perfect puzzle piece that fit in just right. Mary Margaret knew that she was in love with him like she knew her own name, but David had told his wife about this?

"She asked," he replied honestly. "Actually, she guessed."

"How?"

David shrugged. "She said she's seen us together at Granny's. And that…and that she just wants me to be happy…even if it's not with her."

"I…I'm not sure what to say to that," Mary Margaret stuttered, blinking hard. She had to lean on David's truck for balance; her head was spinning wildly. Regina Nolan had really said that? Mary Margaret didn't know the mayor's daughter well, but Regina seemed to be the take-no-prisoners type, not the forgiving of a cheating husband type.

"Look, our marriage has been on the rocks for a while now. We tried to patch things up for Henry's sake, and I care about Regina a lot. But I'm not in love with her," he said, and Mary Margaret hated herself for the way her heart leapt.

"David…" she started to whisper, only to have whatever she was going to say interrupted by a very unwelcome visitor.

"Mary Margaret!" a jovial voice shouted, and a cold chill swept over her. Her voice went tiny as she answered:

"Jefferson."

"I was wondering where you'd gone off to. I haven't seen you in weeks," her ex-boyfriend said with a dazzling smile, but seeing him grin like that only brought back bad memories. She'd thought she was in love with him once, but it hadn't lasted long at all, and these days, Mary Margaret knew better. Jefferson might have had money and might have treated her like a princess when everything was going right, but what he wanted from her had been complete and absolute submission, and no matter how afraid of him she'd been, Mary Margaret wasn't ready to give that.

You can stand up to the bastard, a voice inside her head said, one that sounded suspiciously like Emma. It made her square her shoulders and take a deep breath, drawing on strength she didn't know she had.

"That's because I told you not to come back, and you were smart enough not to do it," she retorted.

"Now, don't be like that," Jefferson replied, stepping close to her. Instinct took over; Mary Margaret flinched. "You know I don't like it."

"I don't care," she said as boldly as she could, but she felt so trapped, with the open truck door behind her and Jefferson in front of her—

"Look, why don't you come with me, and we'll go talk someplace private."

"She said no, Jefferson," a strong voice suddenly said from her left, and then David was in the picture, staring the other man down.

Jefferson scoffed at him. "Do you want something, Nolan?"

"Yeah, for you to leave her alone," David replied without backing down an inch. "Get lost. If she wants to see you, she'll let you know."

"And I don't. In case you didn't get the message last time," Mary Margaret said, her voice stronger. Just knowing David was next to her gave her strength, and Jefferson seemed to notice that. So, she pulled her chin up and looked her former boyfriend in the eye, all the while wondering what she'd ever seen in him.

"We'll see each other again," Jefferson promised, but it rang emptily, and he turned and walked away when Mary Margaret crossed her arms. She and David watched him go in silence, and Mary Margaret swore that she could feel some sort of spark in the air, something between them that hadn't been there before.

She didn't know what it was, but it felt so right that even her nagging conscience went quiet.

4 Years, 3 Months Before the Curse

Apparently, announcing a royal engagement took a lot of work. Regina arrived late for the gala, but it was still in full swing several hours after starting. She hadn't intended to come at all, but in the end, the thought of not congratulating Snow on a day like this was more than she could stand. Regina hadn't seen her sister in half a year, not since her mother had forced her to abandon Snow and David while they fled, and she desperately needed to tell Snow that she still cared. Cora might have wanted her stepdaughter dead—and was busy announcing to the world that Snow was a murderer while she shoved Regina into Snow's place—but Regina still loved her stepsister, no matter what face Cora forced her to show the world.

And force her Cora did. Her mother had grown increasingly threatening towards Daniel, going so far as to order him tortured twice when Regina would not immediately knuckle under. She tried to remain strong, but it was so very hard, and seeing Daniel in pain always broke her. So, she had been the perfectly behaved princess for the last six months, right up until she'd snuck out to see her sister one last time.

"Snow!" Regina whispered, slipping out from behind the tapestry that had hidden her when she teleported in. She had no idea what kind of reception she would receive here in King George's palace; after all, George was readying for war against her mother, and for all Regina knew, George would want to hold her as a hostage. Not that it would work for long if he tried.

"Regina?" Whirling around, Snow didn't even pause before she threw herself into her sister's arms. "Oh, Regina, it's so wonderful to see you! I had hoped you could come, but I wasn't sure you could get away."

Regina hugged her tightly. "Mother doesn't know I'm here, and I can't stay long, but I had to see you."

"However long you can be here is wonderful," Snow replied. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you, too," Regina admitted, smiling at her sister's enthusiasm. And she had missed Snow more than she could express. "Everything is so quiet without you."

"And lonely. I can see it on your face," was the perceptive answer, and Regina shrugged.

"We all do what we have to." And I have to save Daniel.

But her magic still wasn't up to the task. Regina had tried to take her mother on, just once—and that had brought about the second time Daniel was tortured, which had taught Regina a lesson she would never forget. Her mother was a cruel and hateful woman, and Regina wanted nothing more than to be free of her…but not at the cost of Daniel's life. Magic isn't the only thing that comes at a price, she thought unhappily. So does freedom.

Snow just squeezed her arm compassionately, waving her prince over as she did. "Charming! Regina is here."

"We're so glad to see you." Prince James approached quickly, and Regina couldn't detect any reservations within his smile. Then again, he had worked rather well with Regina to rescue Snow, and Regina rather liked him, particularly now that he was going to become her brother in law instead of a potential husband. Serves you right, Mother, she thought vindictively. They're going to be happy despite your best efforts.

"I'm glad to be here," Regina replied, smiling widely. "I can't stay long—Mother will notice—but I wanted to congratulate you both. You deserve every bit of happiness you can get."

Snow hugged her one armed, and her smile was absolutely radiant. "Thank you. Are you sure you can't stay?"

"I can't." But she wanted to, so badly, and the mere thought made her feel guilty. Regina would have given everything to leave her mother's toxic kingdom and stay here with Snow. Snow was the only family she really had, and she missed her so much. But she couldn't leave Daniel. Even though Regina had barely seen him over the last decade, he was still her True Love. She had still married him, even if her mother had destroyed that marriage. The next word was a whisper, barely audible. "Daniel…"

"Who?" James asked, but Snow squeezed her gently.

"I'm sorry. I know—" she started to say, only to be cut off by a twang.

Regina knew that noise, knew what it had to be, but her mind wrapped itself around the truth just a little too slowly. But the prince twisted impossibly fast, and even as Regina started to react, he jumped in between Snow and the incoming crossbow bolt. It hit him high in the right side of the chest and he fell with a cry, but Regina's eyes did not follow him as Snow dove to her love's side. Her gaze didn't track King George as he rushed towards his heir, either; no, she was watching the crossbowman as he tried to disappear into the now-screaming crowd. He was dressed fancily enough to be taken for a nobleman, but he obviously wasn't—or if he was, he wasn't one acting of his own volition.

Her hands came up, purple light flashing between them, and the innocuous crossbowman was picked up off his feet and slammed into the far wall. Her magic played over him quickly as guards rushed to take the crossbow the man had dropped, and Regina received her answer before anyone else really realized what had happened.

"This is your doing!" a furious voice said from her left, and Regina wheeled to face King George, her hands coming down and her concentration breaking. The crossbowman dropped like a rock, bouncing off the floor and yelping in pain. Royal guards leapt on him immediately, but Regina only watched that out of the corner of her eye. Her attention was consumed by the angry king striding up to her, his lined face pinched with fury.

"My doing?" Regina demanded, scowling at him. "How is this my doing? He just tried to kill my sister!"

"We all know what your mother is, 'Princess' Regina," George retorted. "And you appear to be nothing if not her worthy successor. Arrest her!"

"No!" Snow shouted even as guards rushed towards Regina and she started wondering how many of them she'd have to hurt before she could escape. She could just teleport away, but that would be an admission of guilt, and Regina wasn't about to let them pin this on her.

"This isn't your concern, Princess," George snapped, and Snow looked up to glare at him from where she cradled her prince's head in her lap. His dark blue doublet was stained darker blue with blood already, and Regina could see the color leeching out of his face. Threads of magic surrounded him, and she cocked her head to look at the prince, dropping her senses down beyond the visual level and letting the truth swirl around her. Poison, she realized. Thorough, and not too fast-acting. Mother.

"She can heal him!" Snow snapped, glaring at her prospective father in law. "Now, do you want that or not?"

The prince was already groaning; Regina couldn't tell what kind of poison had been used, but even as she ignored George's fury and knelt by her sister's side, she knew it was bad.

"Fine," George snapped, and then turned back to his guards. "The party is over. Get everyone out of here."

Regina didn't pay attention as the guards cleared the ballroom. Instead, she placed her hands a few inches above the wound—narrowly avoiding the still-protruding crossbow bolt—and sucked in a deep breath. Casting a quick spell to help make sense of the tangled threads of magic (poison layered with more poisons, a subtle-but-curable-curse, and yet another poison), Regina bit her lip briefly. This was bad. This was so bad. Mother, what have you done? There was no question that the poison was meant for Snow, but knowing Cora, she would be just as happy to harm the prince who had chosen Snow over Regina.

"Regina?" Snow asked quietly, breaking her out of her reverie. Regina blinked.

"I can't fix this," she whispered.

"What?" Her sister looked horrified, eyes wide and broken and suddenly terrified. "No, you have to. Regina, I can't lose him. I love him. Please, I'll do anything—"

"Don't say that. Don't ever say that." Regina cut her off quickly. "I can't fix this, but I know someone who can."

"Mom, can I ask you something?"

Regina turned to look at him, and Henry tried to return his adopted mother's smile. They were alone at home since David was off with Mary Margaret—a choice that Henry wholly approved of, even if it meant that his adopted father was sneaking around behind Regina's back. It was True Love, though, and that was more important than stupid things like marriages that the curse had come up with. His grandparents belonged together, and Henry was so glad to know that his real grandparents were so much better than Cora. Regina wasn't like her mother—she must have taken after her father, who he was named after—but he was really happy to have grandparents who weren't evil.

"Of course you can, honey," she replied easily, and Henry screwed his courage up.

"What happened to the stableboy?" he asked curiously. "The one you were in love with. Is he here in Storybrooke somewhere?"

Immediately, his mother's face closed over, much worse than Emma's did when he'd asked Emma about his birth father. But Henry remembered the story in his book, and Regina had actually married the stableboy before Cora forced them apart. Didn't that make the stableboy his adopted father? Regina, however, just looked sad.

"Why are you asking that?" she said softly.

"Wouldn't he be family, too? I know that the Evil Queen took him away, but if he's here somewhere, even if he doesn't remember you, True Love should overcome that. Look at Dad and Miss Blanchard. They don't remember each other, but they're still in love."

"I'm afraid that it's not that simple, Henry."

"Why not? It should be. If he's here—wait a minute. Does Grandma have him prisoner? Still?" Henry asked all three questions before he could stop himself, and then went on: "That's horrible!"

"My mother always treated Daniel horribly," Regina replied, her voice low and broken. "She never thought he was good enough for me, no matter how much we loved one another."

"But it's True Love. The Book says so. How can she think that's not enough?"

Regina snorted. "You've met your grandmother, Henry. Do you really think she believes anything is more important than power?"

"No," he replied glumly, wishing he could say otherwise. But Cora was the Evil Queen, and her motto pretty much was that 'love is weakness'. Henry had read that a hundred times, but looking at his mother's mournful expression really made the truth slam home. Those stories were real, and they didn't all have happy endings, even the ones back in the Enchanted Forest. Sometimes good people were hurt, and sometimes the Evil Queen really did win. But not this time, Henry promised himself. Emma will bring back the happy endings, and when she defeats the Evil Queen, Mom can have hers, too.

"It's okay," Regina said, squeezing his shoulder. "We'll get the curse broken, and then everything will go back to the way it should be."

4 Years, 3 Months Before the Curse

"Rumplestiltskin."

It was George who made the call, a proud king who refused to let someone else do his dirty work for him. Regina stood to one side of the king as Rumplestiltskin appeared in a cloud of dark red smoke, her expression somewhere between broken and murderous. Next to her, her younger sister sat on the bed with her prince, only having eyes for the oh-so-charming man she'd fallen in love with. It would have been a picturesque scene if the prince Rumplestiltskin needed had not been so busy dying. Now that could really put a cramp in my plans, he thought dispassionately. The boy wasn't one of triplets, after all, and George has already wasted the first one. There's no taking it back if this one dies, too. But none of those concerns showed on his face; Rumplestiltskin just turned to face the king, his magic sweeping over the prince's prone form and identifying the poison used while he did so.

"You called, dearie?"

George glared; he was not a king to be trifled with, and Rumplestiltskin had allowed the monarch space for his ego in the past because he'd needed him, but now the shoe was on the other foot. George had his second son, his last chance, and that charming prince was now busy expiring on the bed. It was bound to put George in a foul mood, but the Dark One didn't particularly care what kind of mood the petty little king was in. Just kill him, his curse whispered. Your plans will go more smoothly if he's dead. You need the prince, not him.

"I need you to save my son. Quickly," George said, and at least the ornery old man had always been direct. Rumplestiltskin did like that about him.

Make Charming the king today, and all obstacles will be swept out of their way. You'll have that precious True Love you think is worth so much, the demon within him continued, and Rumplestiltskin paused to consider the words as he turned showily to look at David, twirling his fingers as he did so. It was worth the thought. Trading one for the other would be possible. That would meet the price of such magic it would take to thwart Cora's ham-handed attempt to kill her future stepson-in-law. But no. No, he told his curse firmly. Get back in your box. George is useful.

For now.

With an effort, he turned his mind back to the present. He had plenty of practice shoving the curse of the Dark One aside, almost three centuries of it, and he knew how to shut it up. Its opinion wasn't welcome, particularly now when he was so close.

"Do you now?" he drawled, pausing to giggle a bit. The madder they thought him, the more likely they were to underestimate him. "It does look like you have a problem here, now, doesn't it?"

"He's been poisoned," George said unnecessarily. "Fix it. What's your price?"

"Ah, but I don't want anything from you, Your Majesty," Rumplestiltskin told him with a little wiggle, enjoying the horrified look that crossed George's face. Oh, he didn't love this second son, but he was happy enough with the way David had fallen in love with just the right princess. The boy was smart—and would turn out to be a better leader than his dead brother had been—and George might not feel affection for him, but he needed him.

"You can't let it end like this," the king snarled. "I—"

"I said that I didn't want anything from you, dearie. Not that I didn't want anything at all," he cut in. "I can heal him, of course. For a price."

"Name it," George repeated, and Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes.

Killing the king was starting to look like a more and more appetizing. His curse was cackling within his mind.

"Well, only you can help your love, Princess," he said directly, turning to look at Snow White. She had been bent over the prince, with his head in her lap, probably not paying attention to the exchange between the Dark One and the king at all. Now she looked up, her beautiful eyes wide and frightened.

"Me?" she asked. "What can I do?"

Of course, Regina interrupted. "Rumple, now isn't the time to—"

"Oh, hush. Don't you need to run home before mother dearest realizes you've come to visit her least favorite stepdaughter?" Rumplestiltskin cut her off.

"My mother is my concern," Regina snapped peevishly. "Unless you're involved with her again, that is."

Oh, that was just what he wanted his student to say in front of people he'd need to continue using. The comment did, however, make Rumplestiltskin twist to glare at Regina. "Don't be ridiculous," he snapped. "And do go home, dearie, before your mother decides to take her thwarted fury out on someone you love."

It was a low blow, but it worked. Glaring, Regina reached out to squeeze Snow's shoulder one last time, whispering something that sounded like Be careful what you promise, and then she was gone, undoubtedly worrying about her precious stableboy. Once, Rumplestiltskin had actually contemplated using Regina's True Love for Daniel to put his safety valve on the Curse to End All Curses, but he'd seen early on where that would go. She loved him truly enough, but her mother would never let them have a child. Cora would have killed such a grandchild at birth, even though Rumplestiltskin could have given the lovers the opportunity to create one, and that would have broken Regina forever. No, he needed something else, and Regina would have to remain his wildcard. That left Snow White and her Prince Charming.

Not watching Regina as she vanished in a swirl of purple smoke, Rumplestiltskin just studied the princess. "You really are the fairest of them all, aren't you?" he murmured, stepping forward to run his fingers through her long dark locks. "You'll do quite nicely."

"Do what?" Snow White demanded, slapping his hand away. Oh, and she was brave, too!

Rumplestiltskin giggled. "A hair. I can heal your beloved prince, but for that I need a hair. Or three."

"My hair?"

"Of course."

"But why?" the princess asked, confusion screwing her pretty face up at all the wrong angles.

"Well, that's my concern, isn't it?" he countered, magic sweeping over the prone and moaning prince again. There wasn't much time left, so Rumplestiltskin skipped the rest of the questions and tightened his fingers, tearing a few strands of hair away from Snow White's head. "There. You haven't any use for them any longer, do you?"

She was a quick one, this princess. Rumplestiltskin began to have hope for his Savior, after all. "Fine. Heal him."

"Your wish is my command," he murmured, sketching her a courtly bow.

Then, without further ado, Rumplestiltskin turned to the mostly-unconscious prince, letting his magic sweep out to untangle the threads he had identified during the conversation. His right hand swirled in the air, banishing the trio of hairs to a bottle in his favorite tower in the Dark Castle and summoning a separate bottle at the same time. Stepping forward and sweeping a hand over Charming, he untangled the bulk of the threads and assessed the two different poisons racing through his veins. Five minutes. Maybe less, he assessed coolly. It was plenty of time, but George was impatient.

"Can you do it?" the king pressed.

"My dear George, have you ever known of something I cannot do?" Rumplestiltskin replied with a smile, not even bothering to look at him.

"Then do it!"

Get rid of him. It would be so much easier! Rumplestiltskin masked his annoyance with his ever-present darker self with another giggle, ignoring the king's distress.

Swirling the bottle in his hand, Rumplestiltskin combined the catch-all antidote he'd summoned with some more particular magic, and then reached down with his open hand. Quickly, he yanked the crossbow bolt out, making Charming cry out in pain and Snow shout angrily. She made to grab his wrist, but Rumplestiltskin danced out of her reach and aligned the now-dripping crossbow bolt with the open bottle. One drop, two drops, and then three drops of poisoned blood dripped in, and then he cast the bolt aside without bothering to look where it landed. It clattered to the floor somewhere; he didn't care where. A final twitch of his wrist swirled the potion together, and then he stepped back forward to touch the bottle to Charming's lips.

The prince was barely conscious, but he could swallow well enough, and Rumplestiltskin tipped the entire mixture down his throat as George and Snow both watched with wide eyes. Banishing the bottle in a cloud of green smoke—the color of both poisons Cora had used—Rumplestiltskin turned his attention to the bleeding wound in the prince's chest. His right hand glowed blue, and the wound slowly knitted itself shut, the internal injuries closing first and then finally the torn doublet following suit. Charming's eyes fluttered open, and Rumplestiltskin let himself giggle, covering his relief with his well-known mania.

There. Back on track, he told his curse a bit peevishly. Down, you.

"Enjoy your little war," he told a suddenly very relieved George, and then disappeared in a cloud of blue smoke.

Emma had never met the florist, though she knew what he looked like. Enough to recognize him and nod a greeting on the street, anyway. She was pretty sure that someone had pointed him out at some point—Henry, maybe?—but Emma certainly didn't know him well enough to know what possibly could have brought him to the sheriff's station. So, she looked up at him with raised eyebrows, swallowing her last bite of a pastrami sandwich and wiping her mouth off with a napkin. Back in the right hand cell, Victoria Scadlock remained stubbornly silent; she'd barely said thank you when Emma delivered her lunch, and Emma still wasn't sure what she should do with the young woman other than bring her up on charges. Still, Victoria was hardly her problem right now, not with the heavyset man standing in front of her so nervously.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, um, I need. Well…" Moe French trailed off, and Emma gestured at the chair on the other side of the desk.

"You want to sit down?" she asked as nicely as she could manage, watching the florist shift uneasily from foot to foot.

"Thank you," Moe replied, plopping down into the chair and toying nervously with his scarf.

"So…" Emma said slowly. "What can I do for you? Are you here to report a crime?"

"Yes. I mean, no. Or, I don't think so," the older man replied, and then gave her a helpless look. "I don't know."

"But there's a problem."

Moe nodded hesitantly. "Yes. It's…my daughter."

"Lacey?" Emma asked. "The librarian?"

"Yes." Now, Moe seemed to gather steam once he started talking, and he continued rapidly. "She's in trouble. So much trouble. And I don't know how to help her. We don't talk much these days, and that's probably my fault. I fear I drove her right to that monster, and now she's in so much danger."

"Whoa, what do you mean, danger?" Emma asked, perking up. Moe didn't sound like a foolishly worried parent; he sounded like someone in actual desperate fear for his beloved daughter's life. She'd never bothered to learn much about the relationship—or non-relationship—between Lacey French and her father, but now she wished that she had.

"Gold. That monster is going to hurt her, I know it," was the immediate response. "She's his…his kept woman or something. He's got her locked up in that house of his like she's his servant, and I can't imagine what he's doing to her."

That made Emma blink. "I thought she'd taken a job as his live-in maid."

"Do you really believe that?" Moe burst out.

Honestly, Emma hadn't bothered to look into where the librarian went after the fire, or at least hadn't thought anything of it beyond overhearing that conversation between Cora and Gold. Gold had sounded rather cold-blooded about having hired Lacey French as a live-in maid, but really, Emma had figured that was better than the alternative of him being pleased to have her. Gold was certainly a creepy man, and undoubtedly powerful, but he didn't strike Emma as an abuser of young women. I think. All she could do was shrug.

"I don't know what to believe, really," she said honestly. "And I haven't seen any evidence of a crime being committed."

"My Lacey's a good girl. She wouldn't…she wouldn't take up with someone like Gold if he wasn't forcing her," the florist insisted, and Emma sighed.

"I can look into it, if you want," she told him, knowing he wouldn't go away unless she offered.

"Please. I don't know what's going on, but I'm worried for her."

Emma gave him a smile, and then ushered Moe French out of the sheriff's station, making a mental note to ask Regina what she knew about Lacey French. Or maybe Mary Margaret. Mary Margaret might be the right one to ask; she seemed to know most of the down-on-their-luck people in Storybrooke because she traveled in circles that Regina barely even knew existed. Still, Emma hadn't ever heard anyone say anything much about Lacey French, aside from expressing pity for her over the loss of her job at the library. She had a cute little girl, Emma remembered, though no one seemed to know who had actually fathered Renee.

Well, at least looking into this was more interesting than jumping when Cora said jump. Emma had wanted to corner Gold and figure out what the shady pawnbroker was up to, so this was a chance to do just that, too.

A/N: Thank you again to everyone who is still with me! Hearing from readers so makes my day. (What can I say? I'm an addict.) I did have someone ask why Anastasia makes a different choice in Wonderland, and the answer there is pretty simple. She does because Cora wasn't there to talk her out of going back to Will. In the show, she *is* going to go meet with Will until Cora tells her that Will has already left...and then promptly shows up to tell Will she isn't coming. So, without Cora's interference, Ana chooses love over power.

Stay tuned for Chapter Twenty-Eight: "What Matters Most," where Emma asks Graham for help, David and Regina have a heart to heart, and Emma hunts down Lacey French for answers regarding her employment with Mr. Gold. Back in the past, Belle takes Gabrielle out to play with the children in town and disaster strikes.