Chapter Thirty-One—"Love Destroys and Love Rebuilds"

3 Years, 10 Months Before the Curse

"I don't know if I can do this," Regina whispered, sitting at the long, polished table.

On one hand, the last two months had been wonderful. Her mother had kept her word and had moved Daniel out of the dungeons and into a nice room. Cora even let Regina see Daniel regularly, though rarely alone. Cora seemed afraid that Regina's virtue would somehow be compromised if she let the two of them meet privately—or perhaps she was just worried that Regina would find some way to help Daniel escape and then her hold over her daughter would be gone. Because Regina hadn't forgotten what she'd agreed to do, or what would happen to Daniel if she didn't deliver that poisoned apple to Snow. So, on the other hand, Regina was still miserable. Particularly when she'd asked her teacher if David would find Snow soon, and he said yes.

"You've made your choice. You know what will happen if you go back on it," Rumplestiltskin said quietly, sounding more human than imp for once.

Regina was grateful for that. She had no one else to turn to, not with Snow on the run and Daniel torn between his life being saved and telling Regina that she should have just let him die to save her sister. She supposed that she should have found it odd, going to the Dark One for comfort, particularly considering that he was her mother's former lover, but Rumplestiltskin had always been there for her. Even when they snapped at one another and baited one another, he was there. Sometimes he poked her just wrong, seeking to get a rise out of her, but Regina trusted him. Maybe she shouldn't, but she did.

"I know," she sighed. "But Snow…"

Her voice broke as Regina spoke her sister's name, closing her eyes. But they popped open when she felt a hand land awkwardly on top of her own. The contact was very brief; Rumplestiltskin squeezed her fingers once and then let go. She stared at him with owlish eyes, grateful for the comfort, even if she was surprised by it.

"Any curse can be broken," the sorcerer reminded her gently.

"By True Love's kiss," Regina said automatically, and then turned hopeful eyes on him. "Are they? Can they be?"

He smiled mysteriously. "True Love has to be fought for, dear. And they'll fight."

"Is that a yes?" She couldn't leave this up to chance. She wouldn't.

Rumplestiltskin had always liked to play things close, Regina knew, but she needed this answer. Because if Charming wasn't Snow's True Love, there would be nothing to save Snow from the Nightmare Curse that Cora was going to force Regina to give her sister. I can't do that to her. I just can't. Doing it even if she knew the curse could be broken would be horrible.

"He is," the Dark One answered after a moment, his eyes focused far into the distance. "Give him the chance, and he'll break that curse for her."

Regina supposed hearing that should be a relief, but somehow it just made her feel guiltier. She was going to endanger her sister, and someone else would have to save her. Snow would never forgive her, and Regina knew she would deserve every bit of hatred she got. Once, a long time ago, she had promised Snow that they would stand together against anything that threatened either one of them, and now her mother was going to force her to break that promise. No matter what happened, nothing could mitigate that kind of betrayal, and Snow would be right to hate her…and then Regina would be truly alone.

Belle had to admit that she'd hoped no one would notice them in the park. Dove had come along—the big man had become a bit of a shadow for her and Renee—but other than that, the park was fairly empty. Most kids were in school and the weather was a bit dreary, but Renee had been cooped up for too long and needed to play. So, Belle put her on the swing set and tried not to think of one of the last times she'd taken her daughter out for playtime with Dove for company, reminding herself that the fairies here did not remember their own identities, let alone know who Belle and Gabrielle were. Of course, her adorable daughter was still Renee, a fact that drove both Belle and her husband to distraction at times, but there was no helping that until the curse broke.

Unless she remembers earlier, like Rumple said is possible, Belle thought, looking up from her book as her daughter squealed in delight. Renee was just learning how to be on the swings by herself, and her little legs were pumping for all they were worth. She hadn't managed to get herself very high yet, but she was doing pretty well. Watching her made Belle smile, and for a few moments, she could tell herself that everything was normal.

Life certainly was better than it had been as Lacey. As horrible as the fire in the library had been, it had quite literally turned Belle's life around. While she wished that Rumplestiltskin had not chosen to wait so long to wake her up—even if she thought she disagreed with his choice—she understood that he'd done it out of fear that Cora would hurt her and Renee. Given how bloodthirsty Cora had proven herself as mayor, Belle couldn't even say that fear was groundless, but at least the fire had given Rumplestiltskin an excuse to hire her, and in turn an excuse for Belle and Renee to move in with him. Doing so had finally brought their family back together, and although Belle still mourned the loss of the library, she couldn't regret the fact that losing that job had brought her home.

"Lacey?" a familiar voice asked, and Belle twisted on the bench in surprise, gaping up at her father.

No, she thought as she stared at him. Not quite my father. This is Moe French, who hated Lacey for having a daughter out of wedlock and refusing to marry the same oaf I was engaged to back home. Moe French's actions mirrored the choices Sir Maurice had made a bit too closely, however, which meant Belle had a hard time not being angry at her father's cursed persona as well.

"Dad," she replied as levelly as she could, barely remembering to call him that instead of 'Papa.' But Lacey would never use that term, and for Belle, using the Land Without Magic term felt more formal. More distant. And that was rather what she wanted at the moment.

From her left, Dove perked up out of the magazine he'd been reading, glancing her way to see if she needed help. But Belle shook her head. She could deal with her own father, for better or for worse. Slowly, Belle rose and put her book on the bench, turning to face Moe French.

"Lace…I know we don't always see eye to eye, but I wanted to talk to you and see if you were all right," her father said in a rush, and Belle snorted.

"If by 'don't always see eye to eye', you mean that you told me to give up my daughter or be disowned, I agree that we don't," she retorted. "So, thank you for asking, but I'm fine. We're both fine."

Moe had the good grace to go a bit red in embarrassment, and that did make Belle feel bad. A little, anyway. Perhaps some of Lacey's anger was bleeding over into her, because she couldn't quite shake the woman she'd been for twenty-eight years or the way Lacey had felt abandoned by this very same man for that entire time. Then again, Sir Maurice had done much the same to Belle, refusing to even read her letters, let alone respond to them. I wonder if he even realizes that he has a granddaughter, or if he'll be surprised by that when he wakes up. The one time she had tried to talk to him back home he'd been ready to call for the clerics to 'cleanse' her, and Belle hadn't been particularly willing to tell him about Gabrielle once he started going on like that.

"Sweetie, I…"

"You what?" Belle asked when he trailed off, crossing her arms. She half wondered if he'd apologize, but didn't really expect it. Not with Cora still in control. Belle knew enough about the curse to know that anything anyone still under it did was suspect. Cora could manipulate them too easily.

"I'm worried about you," Moe replied. "I know you're desperate, but did you really have to lower yourself so far as to give yourself to that monster? I know what kind of man Gold is, and he won't treat you like you deserve to be treated."

Flabbergasted, Belle had to stare at the cursed version of her father for a long moment in silence before she could trust herself to speak. "You don't know anything about Gold," she finally managed to say. Not that I'm living with Gold, but even if I was, he treated Lacey far better than you did, Papa! "He is good to both of us, which is more than I could say for you!"

"Now, don't say that, sweetheart—"

"Why not?" she demanded. "Because it's true?"

"I've talked to Tony. He still wants to marry you, and he's willing to accommodate your…daughter, as well. He doesn't like it, but if it gets you away from Gold, he'll take her in, too."

"Oh, that's so big of him." But the sarcasm was utterly lost on her father, who gave her a look that said she clearly needed educating in the ways of the world.

"It is, Lacey," Moe said firmly. "Taking in a child whose paternity remains a mystery is a big step for a man to take, but he'll do it. For you."

Belle sighed, as sick of listening to someone tell her how noble Gaston was as she'd been years ago. "I don't want to marry Tony," she said bluntly. "I never have, and I'm happy where I am."

"You can't be happy with Gold, sweetie. We all know what kind of man he is, and heaven only knows what kinds of terrible things he makes you do."

"Will you stop that? All of you?" Belle finally snapped, her temper worn out. "Gold isn't some terrible monster who is forcing me to do anything! He's a good man, and he's been much kinder to me than you have over the last four years."

"Tony is—"

"I don't care what Tony is," she cut him off. "I've never wanted to marry Tony. That's always been what you wanted me to do, and no one decides my fate but me. So, if you want to be a part of my life, Dad, you get to do it on my terms. Because I'm going to live it how I want and where I want. You lost the right to tell me how to live when you kicked me out."

"Now, see here, Lacey! I'm not going to let you keep this self-destructive attitude going," Moe snapped back, reaching out to take her arm. "We're leaving now, and I won't let you go back to that monster."

Belle yanked away, but Moe made a second grab for her. Before he could make contact, however, a shadow suddenly loomed over them both.

"Is there a problem, Miss French?" Dove asked softly. The big man had always been soft-spoken, but he'd always been her protector, too, even going back to the days when he'd crashed into the fairy who wanted to destroy Gabrielle and called her demonspawn.

"No," Belle answered, never taking her eyes off of Moe. "My father was just leaving. Weren't you?"

Moe looked between her and Dove several times before he shook his head, looking at her with such a disappointed expression that Belle almost laughed out loud. She either had to laugh or cry, because her father's rejection still burned, and she wanted so badly to patch things up with him…but Moe wasn't going to let that happen. Dove's presence seemed to tip the scales in her favor, though, and Moe finally turned and walked away, leaving his daughter and granddaughter alone. Again.

3 ½ Months Before the Curse

Princess Ella would call him that night. Sometimes, Rumplestiltskin's visions of the future were less specific, but he knew that the time would come soon. The silly princess would work with Snow and Charming—ungrateful souls that they were—and trap him because she didn't want to fulfill her end of a contract that she hadn't bothered reading. I'll give anything, Ella had said, but now she was too much of a coward to see that through. Rumplestiltskin despised her for that as much as he needed her to do just that, and while he was glad to know that the girl didn't really want to give her child up, that didn't mean he had to appreciate the way she was going to go about it. Sometimes lies were useful, but what kind of fool broke a deal with him? She had no idea what it would cost her, and he certainly wasn't going to pity her for that.

Were getting locked up as a prisoner not so very vital to his plans, he would never have gone through with this. The coward in him wanted very much to ignore Ella's summons, or at least not to warn Belle they were coming. Then he could slip away and blame the royals, without having to explain to his wife and precious daughter that he was going away for several months. But no. Belle made him stronger, and Gabrielle made him want to be a braver man than he'd ever been. He would not take the coward's way out, not either of them. So, he leaned over and kissed Belle on the cheek to wake her two hours after dawn broke, after he'd been staring at the ceiling for an hour and sorting through visions to make sense of them.

"Good morning, sweetheart," he murmured.

"Umm." If she hadn't been stirring already, Rumplestiltskin would not have gotten even that much of a response out of her; Belle had never been a morning person, and mothering a toddler only made her treasure her sleep more.

Rumplestiltskin blew in her ear, anyway, and was rewarded by a squeal and a slap to his bare hip. That made him chuckle, not the high-pitched laugh of the imp but the lower laugh of the man he'd once been and the man Belle made him want to be again. His wife twisted to give him a dirty look, but Rumplestiltskin just smiled, his earlier inner conflicts quieting as he looked at Belle's beautiful—if disgruntled—face.

Oh, he was going to miss her. When he'd conceived this plan over a decade earlier, Rumplestiltskin had never once considered having a family to leave behind when he threw himself willfully into prison. Now, however, he had a beautiful wife and a precocious three year old daughter. How could he leave them, even in the safety of the Dark Castle, for so long? What if Cora didn't manage to cast the curse? What if she took too long? What if he couldn't walk out of that cell if he needed to, and everything went wrong? What if Cora, or someone else, discovers Belle and Gabi while I am indisposed, and hurts them?

He hadn't even realized that his smile had vanished until Belle rolled over to look at him, asking: "What's wrong?"

Damn her for being able to read him so well. Rumplestiltskin contemplated evading the question, but in the end, all that would buy him would be a few hours. "Today's the day," he whispered, shifting to stare at the ornate ceiling of their bedroom. "Little Princess Ella is going to call upon me, and they're going to trap me."

"Already?" Belle asked quietly, and he could practically feel her gathering her courage to mask her trepidation. Belle knew what was coming, of course—how he could not warn her about this?—but knowing and experiencing were two very different things.

"The curse is coming," he replied. That had been his mantra for the last year, the way he'd rationalized doing things that made even Rumplestiltskin uneasy. It would have been easier if he'd been able to remain properly dispassionate, but Belle and Gabi weren't the only ones who had crept into his little black heart. There was a place for Regina there, too, and he knew that she was going to be terribly abused in this mess. Perhaps not as badly as others, not by the curse, anyway, but she would still suffer. He wouldn't cause that, not directly, but Rumplestiltskin was not so good at self-deception as to believe that he didn't bear some responsibility.

I will find my son, he told himself again. I'm coming, Bae. No matter what it takes.

"Will you be all right?" Belle asked, because she was Belle, and she was far too brave to worry about her own safety.

"Of course I will," Rumplestiltskin replied, although he wasn't entirely sure how well his curse would take to being caged like that. Sighing, he turned to look into concerned blue eyes. "I'm more worried about you. If someone—"

"You've told me what to do a hundred times, Rumple," she cut him off gently. "Stay in the castle. Send Dove for anything we need. So long as Gabi and I stay within the walls, we'll be protected. And we'll be there on the other side, waiting for you."

Belle punctuated the last words with a kiss to his shoulder, and Rumplestiltskin felt the human inside him melting as he gathered his wife into his arms. "I can't bear to risk you."

"You won't. I don't like staying cooped up, but I do understand the dangers. While I might accept those risks for myself, I'm not going to let anyone ever hurt Gabrielle. She'll be safe with me!"

"I know that!" Rumplestiltskin protested, pulling her close. "Sweetheart, I don't blame you for what happened with that damn fairy, and neither does Gabi." He added philosophically: "She's forgotten it by now, anyway."

"I haven't," Belle retorted, her face buried in his shoulder. "I just should have known. I just…until then, I never understood what you meant when you said that you have enemies, and now I'm supposed to let those same enemies lock you away?"

"Oh, Belle," he breathed, kissing the top of her head and wishing he could kiss more. "They're heroes, those princes and princesses. They'll lock me away, but they'll not treat me too badly. And even if they did, I'd survive it."

"That doesn't make it better."

"I suppose it just puts things in perspective. And it's worth it, it if brings the curse."

"And we'll find your son," she whispered, tilting her head back to look at him. Their lips were so close that they might have touched accidentally, but after nearly four years of marriage, Belle and Rumplestiltskin had too much practice not allowing that to happen. Instead, Rumplestiltskin felt gentle fingers touch his cheek, and warm blue eyes crinkled slightly as Belle smiled. "We'll find Baelfire."

"I don't deserve you," he replied softly, shifting to lean his forehead against hers. Over three years after she'd promised to do so, Rumplestiltskin still couldn't quite wrap his mind around the fact that Belle wanted to help him in this quest of his, but she really did. And she had.

"You deserve me and worse, Rumplestiltskin," Belle said with a small smirk, rolling them both so that she could swing a leg over his hips. Then her smile turned positively wicked. "But you're welcome to show me how much you'll miss me in the meantime."

Rumplestiltskin needed no further invitation.

Graham had protested repeatedly that he didn't need to—or want to—go out, but Emma and Mary Margaret had dragged him to Granny's, using Graham's doctor's appointment as an excuse to get him out of the apartment. The former sheriff grumbled good naturedly as they wheeled him inside, but Emma thought she could see a hint of a smile in his expression. Nearly everyone in the diner greeted Graham excitedly, with Ruby even coming over to hug him, and that seemed to lift some of the shadows out of his expression. Emma knew that Graham had been down since the accident, and that he still blamed himself, so she thought some time away from his tiny and impersonal apartment might do him some good.

They were halfway through lunch when a stranger walked into the diner, immediately stilling all conversations and making people stare. Emma knew that she'd been the last stranger to walk into Storybrooke, and if Regina was to be believed, most normal people couldn't even see the town. So how had this dark haired, leather-clad man come here?

"Who's that?" Mary Margaret asked, following her gaze.

Emma put her burger down, watching the stranger take a seat at the bar and flirt with Ruby. "I don't know. Do you?" The question was directed at Graham, who shook his head.

"No idea. But you should find out."

"Why me?"

"Because you're the sheriff," Graham replied without so much as a flicker of regret. "The mayor's bound to be all over his arrival, so it certainly wouldn't hurt for you to get in first."

"You can say that again," Mary Margaret breathed. "Mayor Mills is not going to like this." When Emma cast a curious glare her way, her roommate shrugged. "You didn't see her when you first arrived. She was livid. I actually watched her come in and threaten Granny in case you were staying here, but it turned out you were already staying with Regina."

"She's always such a joy to be around," Emma agreed, rolling her eyes and standing up. "Fine. I'll go talk to Mr. Mysterious. But don't you two try to pretend that you're not sending me over there for any reason other than your own curiosity."

Even Graham laughed at that, and Emma was glad that she wasn't leaving him alone. Mary Margaret would make sure that their mutual friend didn't dig himself into another depressed hole, and hopefully Emma could ask the new guy a few questions and then be done with it. But Graham and Mary Margaret were right. Cora was bound to get her panties in a twist over this visitor, and it really would make Emma's job easier if she already knew who he was. Besides, she was curious. Despite the way Henry gushed on about Emma's very presence making time move forward, Storybrooke was one hell of a boring town. At least if you don't count inexplicable auto accidents, library fires, or a crazy mayor, she thought to herself with a crooked smile, crossing over to the bar and plopping down next to the man in the leather jacket.

"Welcome to Storybrooke," she said by way of greeting, and the stranger turned to face her. He was pretty good looking, in a scruffy kind of way, with nice blue eyes that seemed full of mirth and mystery. He assessed her as curiously as she did him, his gaze frank and appreciative, before replying:

"This seems like a pretty welcoming town. Everyone wants to talk to me."

"We don't get a lot of visitors," Emma replied with a shrug. "I'm Emma Swan, by the way. Sheriff."

"Wow. I get a personal greeting from the sheriff. This must be a sleepy town," he said with a small smile and feigned shock. But he didn't introduce himself, Emma noticed.

"Just a little, yeah," she confirmed, fling his hesitation to offer his name away for later use. Then something caught her eye, and Emma glanced down. "What's with the box?"

There was a plain wooden box right next to the outermost leg of his barstool; the stranger sat between her and it, but from where Emma was, the box looked significantly bigger than a briefcase and also big enough that hauling it around would be annoying. It wasn't terribly polished and she doubted it was luggage; besides, if he was staying at Granny's, the stranger would have already dropped his luggage off in his room. So why carry an ugly wooden box downstairs?

He shrugged. "It's my mystery."

"Your what?" Emma asked suspiciously. She'd only been idly curious before, but the evasive answer brought her hackles up.

"It's awfully frustrating not knowing, isn't it?" the stranger countered with a smile that really set her teeth on edge.

"Just tell me," Emma snapped, perhaps a little more peevishly than she wanted to. But this guy was really starting to get on her nerves.

"Why? Is it illegal to carry around a box in these parts?"

Rolling her eyes, Emma tried to get a hold on her temper, resisting the urge to call Mary Margaret over and tell her to deal with this kook. "No, of course it's not."

"You really want to know what's inside it, don't you?" Her annoyance seemed to please him; now the stranger was smiling.

"No," Emma replied, but she knew the word came out too quickly, and had to admit: "Well, maybe."

"I'm going to make you wait," the stranger replied, now openly smirking. Every word he spoke put Emma's teeth on edge, and she wanted so badly to reach out and wipe that grin off of his face, but knew that she couldn't. "You're going to have to wait a long time and watch me carry it around. Hauling it to strange and mysterious places. And with each passing moment, the mystery will become more tantalizing. Your imagination will inflame, but so will your frustration. Never knowing—only guessing—what could possibly be inside that box? Or, you could let me buy you a drink sometime and I'll tell you right now."

Emma blinked. "You want to buy me a drink?" All that mystery, and that's all you want? Buddy, you're selling yourself short.

"Yes."

"Okay." She shrugged. "A drink it is."

Reaching down from his barstool, the stranger picked the box up and put it on the bar, using the bottom of the box to shift his plate and a bottle of ketchup aside. Throwing Emma one last look, he unlocked the box, and then opened it with a flourish. And then Emma stared. There was nothing inside except a typewriter, and not even a very new one.

"Really?" she snorted.

"I'm a writer," he explained, and Emma wanted to bash her face into the bar.

"That explains the hyperbole," she sighed. All that mystery for nothing. The guy was a writer. But a writer of what? Emma had allowed herself to get sidetracked by the mystery this stranger presented, but her initial concern was still justified. No one ever came to Storybrooke, but this guy had. "That's why you're here?"

"I find this place provides…inspiration," he said slowly. "Don't you?"

When she didn't answer immediately, he closed the box once more, locking it up tightly before standing. Shrugging, he removed the box from the bar, dropped a tip, and then turned to leave. Meanwhile, Emma's mind raced to figure out exactly what he'd meant by those last remarks.

"Wait. Have you been here before?"

His innocent look was hard to read. "I didn't say that."

With that, the stranger turned to leave. Emma twisted on her barstool to watch him as he walked by, confused and not enjoying the feeling that he'd just run circles around her. "What about that drink?" she had to ask.

Now the damn enigmatic smile came back. "I said sometime."

They'd run into one another again, and this time Henry hadn't even set it up. Regina had resisted the urge to call her adopted son on the little stunt he'd pulled to get her and Errol to eat lunch together, mostly because she'd enjoyed herself so much, but this was really getting out of control. It's one thing to encourage David to spend time with the woman he's actually married to, Regina, but it's another thing entirely to go all moon-eyed over a man whose identity you don't even know, she told herself. Rationality, however, didn't seem to be powerful enough to distract her, because a quick hello had somehow turned into an hour long conversation about kids, the idiotic school board, and ice cream. In the end, they'd both had to force themselves to walk away, and Regina found herself wanting so badly to ask Errol to dinner one of these nights.

But she couldn't. Even if she could get some budding romance (which this wasn't!) past her mother, Regina didn't know anything about who Errol Forrester really was. But she knew someone who would know. The bastard knew who everyone was—if Regina didn't know better, she would have thought that Rumplestiltskin had actually cast the Dark Curse, given how adept he was at anticipating and manipulating her mother's precious curse. So, she walked into the shop shortly after lunch, noticing how that damn librarian and Rumple were standing far too close together behind the counter. Lacey withdrew in a hurry when the bell rang announcing Regina's arrival, but that didn't keep the mayor's daughter from scowling.

What in the world was Rumplestiltskin playing at? Regina had no idea who Lacey French had been in their world—she certainly wasn't anyone important, or Regina would have recognized her—but obviously the Dark One had some use for her. The girl even had the nerve to smile at him before saying: "I'll just head home, then."

"Of course," he replied with no appreciable expression, and thankfully the little tart ducked into the back room. Regina waited until she heard that door open and shut again before crossing her arms and looking at her old teacher.

"I'm not going to ask," she declared.

"Well, that's wise of you," Rumplestiltskin replied with Gold's most annoying smile. Had he always been like this under the curse? Regina knew she'd seen more of his human side than nearly anyone else in the Enchanted Forest, but there were still times that looking at Rumplestiltskin as a human really threw her for a loop.

"I need some information," she growled instead of rising to the bait he offered with a small wiggle of his eyebrows, almost daring her to jump down that rabbit hole.

"Of course you do, dear. And I need the curse broken. But we don't always get what we want when we want it now, do we?" he countered.

Regina scowled. "I'm working on it! I'd like to see you do better."

"The point is that we're running out of time, dear," Rumplestiltskin said, reaching out to shift a few items around on the counter. "Your mother is growing increasingly infuriated. Miss Swan's meddling has reawakened her desire for vengeance, and she's going to begin lashing out. Unless you want to encourage her to find new targets for her fury, we had best hurry."

"She already tried to kill Henry," Regina pointed out, the memory of almost losing her son making her quiet.

"Indeed she did." Was that emotion flickering across his face? Maybe the wily old bastard really did care for his little maid. Regina knew better than anyone that he was capable of feeling. After all, he'd slept with her mother and still had something going on there that Regina resolutely did not want to ask about. Her best guess was that Cora had possessed some sort of hold over Gold that Rumple was allowing her to think she still had over him, and the bastard certainly was cold-blooded enough to string Cora along in that fashion. Whatever feelings he was capable of, however, Regina was willing to bet that they were more muted than a normal human's, and she had to remember that when dealing with him, no matter how close they'd been in the past. Particularly because I don't know if he wants to be with Mother or not.

"Look, are you going to help me or not?" she demanded. "I just need a name."

"And do you have something to offer me in return?" he countered, and Regina was willing to bet that he was just asking that to get a rise out of her.

"How about I continue doing your dirty work and not dump my niece on you?" she snarled, and Rumplestiltskin actually chuckled.

"You drive a hard bargain, Princess," he quipped, sounding almost like his old self. "What do you want?"

"A name." She had to take a deep breath before continuing, because asking for his identity would suddenly make everything real. But Regina squared her shoulders and gathered her courage, continuing: "Errol Forrester. Who is he?"

"Ah, your son's brave rescuer. The Hero of Storybrooke." Rumplestiltskin's lips twitched in what might have been generously called a smile, and Regina resisted the urge to remind him that Errol had saved his little maid, too. And her daughter.

But Rumple had a point. Errol had been all over the front page of the Daily Mirror for his headlong dash into the library to save a woman and two children. Sidney, bless his pour, trapped soul, had written a lovely piece on Errol that Regina would not admit to having read sixteen times. Articles and fame aside, however, she still didn't know anything about this man that she was so attracted to, and Regina need to know who he was.

"Do you know who he is?" she pressed when Rumplestiltskin said no more.

"Of course I do." The look he gave her suggested that Regina was foolish for even asking.

She was not in the mood for his games. "Well?"

"Are you sure you want to know?" Rumplestiltskin asked, cocking his head at her curiously. "He might not be what you expect."

"Just tell me!"

His shrug was eloquent. "Robin of Locksley."

"A noble?" Regina asked, surprise bringing her up short. She hadn't expected that, and found that she was almost disappointed. The irony of the fact that her new love wouldn't infuriate her mother as much as the old one had wasn't lost on Regina, but she'd half been hoping for someone that would really tick Cora off.

"Well…" Rumplestiltskin drawled, and then grinned nastily. "He's also known as Robin Hood. The outlaw."

Regina felt her mouth dropping open into a round 'O'. Now that was something her mother would hate…and Regina found herself oddly pleased. She'd heard of Robin Hood, after all, and he was a man who fought for what he believed in, no matter what. In short, he was what she'd always wanted to be, what she'd promised herself she would be now that the curse had been cast. And his wife was dead, too, in real life and not just in Storybrooke. That meant she could actually give this a try. That meant this might actually work, assuming he still liked her when the curse broke.

For the first time in decades, Regina felt hope flickering within her.

Meanwhile, Emma led a scowling Francis Scadlock into the sheriff's station, having received the call from Judge Dallas when she'd been halfway back to the loft. It was storming like hell outside, which meant she had to double her bug back, then get out in the rain again, only to find that the newspaper editor still hadn't arrived. She wound up waiting fifteen minutes for the jerk, only to find him scowling like this was her idea. He sure as heck didn't look like a husband who had come to bail his wife out of jail; in fact, Scadlock's expression was more akin to a man going to prison himself.

But Emma ignored that, opening the door. She and Mary Margaret were planning on marathoning the four Pirates of the Caribbean movies starting that evening, and she really didn't want show up later than the pizza that Mary Margaret had ordered when Emma called to say she was on her way home. Of course, now she was going to be late, but there was nothing she could do about that other than hurry Scadlock through the required paperwork and then release his technically sane wife into his hands. Emma still didn't know why Victoria had attacked her, but she'd made bail, and that was really what counted until the D.A. decided to get off his ass and press charges. Emma'd already talked to Spencer about it, but he was dragging his feet. Probably at Cora's instigation.

"You're free to go," she told the woman who had spent the last two weeks in a jail cell without saying anything useful.

"Thank you," Victoria said quietly, with that same half-guilty, half-defiant look on her face that she'd worn ever since the attack. She glanced at her husband. "You came."

"Don't thank me," the editor snapped. "This wasn't my idea."

"Whose idea was it?" Emma asked curiously, but that only made Scadlock scowl. His wife stepped out of the cell, smiling cautiously at him.

"It's good to see you," she said quietly, and wasn't that a huge difference from the row Emma had last seen them having? "I'm glad you're all right."

Scadlock just snorted. "Why wouldn't I be? Now c'mon. We have places to be."

"Right." The blonde squared her shoulders and started to walk out with her estranged husband, but she turned to glance at Emma before they reached the door. "Sheriff…I know this might not be worth much, but I'm sorry."

Something in the other woman's tone caused alarms to start going off in Emma's mind. Victoria wasn't lying, not at all, but the sheriff suddenly knew that there was something very wrong here. "Then why do it in the first place?"

"Temporary insanity." Victoria—or Ana, as she still insisted her name was—said with a shake of her head, and then allowed her husband to lead her out into the rain.

Weeks later, Emma would realize that she hadn't seen the woman since that night.

A/N: I apologize for the late update—my real life and my beta have both been a bit busier than I expected! Thank you to all of you who have kept reading, and I hope you continue to have as much fun as I am with this story, particularly after the heartbreaking winter finale last Sunday.

Stay tuned for Chapter Thirty-Two: "The Hard Road," where Cora starts plotting some additional vengeance, Mary Margaret goes to visit Regina, and Francis Scadlock wonders why he's doing Cora's dirty work. Back in the past, Charming tracks Snow down (and meets some dwarves), Snow and Charming return home, and Cora dispatches Regina with a poisoned apple.