Chapter Thirty-Eight—"Strengths and Weaknesses"

Unfortunately, the curse's magic recognized Cora's commands via voicemail as well as they did in person, and Rumplestiltskin felt magic tugging on his limbs when he finally checked his messages the next morning. He knew that he could spin excuses and avoid it for some time, but although the coward in him wanted to put it off until Cora actually dragged him to her house, he knew intellectually that doing so was a very bad idea. Sooner or later, he'd have to face the music, so he listened to the voicemail and barely managed to logic his way out of it. After all, tonight was over, wasn't it? Cora had been referring to last night, and right now was morning. Besides, he was cleaning up breakfast dishes while Renee tried finger painting on the table with oatmeal.

Then the phone rang again right before he could put it down, and Rumplestiltskin bit back a groan. Belle glanced his way—she'd seen him tensing as he listened to the voicemail, undoubtedly—but he managed to keep his face straight. Barely. "I've got to take this one, sweetheart."

Belle just squeezed his arm wordlessly; perhaps Rumplestiltskin had not been so good at hiding his terror as he hoped. He'd gone two weeks without Cora calling him, and he'd almost managed to forget her horrible position in his life. He supposed that she'd been so busy trying to make her dear stepdaughter miserable that she hadn't had time for him; between battling the Savior and continuously trying to tear down Snow White, the Evil Queen was rather occupied. Rumplestiltskin had enjoyed the reprieve, but now it was over. And you have no one but yourself to blame for that, his curse whispered in his ear. You should know better than to listen to bleating little weak hearts.

He swatted the voice aside with a silent snarl; Belle was not some mere bleating heart. She was his wife, and she'd had a good point. Otherwise, he would not have given in. Irrigated by Cora and by his curse, he picked up the phone, knowing who it had to be.

"Yes?" he snapped.

"Is that any way to greet an old friend?" Cora purred, but he could hear the steel under her congenial words.

"It is on a Sunday morning," he replied, because that was how Gold would have tried to deal with her. Gold had been clever, but not clever enough, and sometimes it annoyed Rumplestiltskin to have to pretend to be that clueless. "I'm busy."

"With your little concubine, I have no doubt. But she can wait," the mayor retorted, dropping all pretense at being friendly. "I called last night and you didn't answer."

"I just got your message, dear," Rumplestiltskin replied. "I was even contemplating calling you back. You seemed…concerned. Is there a problem?"

After all, Cora's message would have sounded innocent to the untrained ear. She had said that she needed to talk to him about something important tonight, and that he should come by as soon as he could. Preferably now. But she'd never tried to command him via message before, and Rumplestiltskin didn't need to let her know that it would work. Modern technology and magic always made for strange bedfellows, and there was no knowing what would work and what would not. Let her wonder about this one.

"Yes, and it's one I'd like to discuss with you in person. Now, if you please," Cora said darkly, and Rumplestiltskin's heart sank.

Yes, he knew what this was about, and no, it wasn't going to be enjoyable at all.

1 Year Before the Curse

"I need a favor," Cora announced as she appeared.

She'd found him right after he sent young Ella (not to be a maid much longer) off to her ball and finished killing a fairy. It had been a good day's work so far; he'd set up an integral piece for the coming curse—not that Cora realized she would cast it yet—had gotten to dispose of an annoying little vermin, and was about to head home to Belle and Gabrielle, who Rumplestiltskin did not like leaving alone after what had happened with the damn Cyan fairy. Just thinking of that made his blood boil and made him wish he could kill this fairy all over again, but he managed to put a sarcastic grin on and wheel to face his former student.

"What, want me to induce another miscarriage on your dear stepdaughter? I thought you managed the first one rather admirably on your own," he said viciously.

Instead of the triumph Rumplestiltskin had expected to see on Cora's face, she frowned deeply. "No. I made sure that won't be necessary ever again."

No, you didn't! he almost sang out, but managed to stop himself in time. There was no need to let Cora know that he'd managed to reverse that little infertility curse she'd put on Snow, having sent that potion through Regina months earlier. But Snow wasn't pregnant at the moment, either—at least not that Rumplestiltskin knew of—so he wasn't sure what she wanted. Other than to annoy him.

"Well, good for you," the Dark One said instead, twirling his hand and stepping in close to her. "So what is it that you want?"

"Maleficent. I want her distracted. I don't like her friendship with my daughter," Cora replied primly, and Rumplestiltskin didn't bother to hold back his laughter.

"Oh, my. That's rich, coming from the 'Queen of Hearts.' Or is it the Evil Queen these days? Both titles have such a ring to them," he taunted her. "Are you enjoying your exile while Snow and Charming rule your kingdom?"

"That's a temporary setback, I assure you," Cora snapped.

"Then why don't you tell me what you're offering, Your Majesty?" Rumplestiltskin drawled, enjoying the way rage rolled off of her in waves. Oh, she was getting close, Cora was. Closer and closer to that fine edge of fury and madness that would drive her into casting his curse. He'd helped the young charming couple out by ensuring that Cora could not harm them in this world, but he knew that he had to string Cora out a little bit longer. Snow White needed to conceive a new child, first, and then that child needed to be born. Unlike the last one. He cocked his head and made a show of considering her request. "Why should I help you?"

"Because I'm willing to give you Sir Perceval's ring in exchange," Cora replied, her expression under control once more.

Rumplestiltskin had been prepared to refuse—what did he care if Maleficent helped Regina rescue Daniel from Cora, after all? He knew that Regina had asked her friend to help, and that Maleficent was contemplating accepting, but now…well, that was a tempting trinket.

"Sir Perceval of Galles?" he pressed, just to be sure.

"Of course." She smiled innocently. "A ring that will protect its wearer from all manner of harm, including magical. Now, while I know you would never need to wear such an object, Rumple, surely you have some small use for it?"

Of course he did. Rumplestiltskin had enchanted a ring of that very sort for Belle when he'd asked her to marry him, but it was certainly not the thousands year old ring that Sir Perceval had worn. That ring had been rumored to have been enchanted by Morgan le Fae herself, and was powerful enough to be rumored as a Secondary Power. It could do protect in ways magic cast by the Dark One could not, even when that Dark One was trying to protect his own True Love. Gabrielle could wear in on a chain around her neck, he thought contemplatively, and knew that Cora had him.

"Let me see it," Rumplestiltskin demanded, not bothering to pretend he wasn't interested.

The ring, gold with a small cluster of emeralds around a diamond, appeared in Cora's hand, deposited there by a brilliant purple swirl of smoke. Even from a dozen feet away, Rumplestiltskin could feel the power radiating off of the ring. It was neither light magic nor dark; no, that ring was enchanted by a careful combination of the two, artfully done by an expert at her craft. Rumor said that Morgan herself had gifted the ring to Perceval over a millennium ago, but no one knew where it had gone since. Momentarily, Rumplestiltskin contemplated asking Cora if the ring was real, but even a blind man would have been able to sense the power surrounding that small ring. It was real, and he wanted it.

She cocked her head at him. "Do we have a deal?"

Rumplestiltskin managed a smile. "Of course we do. You know me too well, dear."

And she did. He already knew how he'd deal with Maleficent, though; that was easy enough. He knew that she'd preemptively cursed her princess' daughter's True Love into becoming a yaoguai, and finding him and reuniting him with Princess Aurora would be simple enough. So would giving the prince and princess a bit of protection, just enough to keep Maleficent annoyed and distracted. He had no idea why Maleficent was so determined to curse her second sleeping princess out of the same family, but he had a vague idea that it had something to do with the way King Stefan had slighted her years ago. Either way, Rumplestiltskin didn't much care. He accepted the ring from Cora, and vanished before his former student could ask for anything more.

He'd arrived at nine o'clock on Sunday morning. By lunchtime, Cora had gagged him, saying that his cries were giving her a headache. By dinner, when she finally untied him from the bed downstairs, Rumplestiltskin was a shaking and shivering mess.

"Get dressed," Cora ordered. "But take a shower first, would you, dear?" Her smile was predatory. "I'd like you presentable for dinner."

"As if you care," Rumplestiltskin grumbled, still out of breath and with every inch of his body aching. He moved slowly, but didn't argue; time in the shower was time away from Cora, and he felt absolutely terrible, not to mention caked with sweat and a little of his own blood. So, he did as she commanded, shutting himself in the basement bathroom until he felt vaguely human again, and then finding his cane waiting for him outside the door. For a woman who delighted in torturing the sanity out of him, Cora could sometimes be strangely considerate, although he hated her no less for that fact.

Slowly, Rumplestiltskin made his way up the stairs, contemplating just walking out the front door instead of listening to her. But Cora had made her point rather well that day, and he knew that he could not afford to cross her. Not yet. When the curse breaks, it will be different, he promised himself, promised the rising rage within him. His own curse did not take this any better than Rumplestiltskin did, although the demon living inside him greeted each new pain and each new humiliation, with fury rather than with fear. Rumplestiltskin, on the other hand, had found out that he really was just a man under that so very dark curse, and the spinner he had been tended to come out when Cora hurt him. He hated himself for that, hated his own weakness and his own fears, but there was little he could do about them until the curse broke.

And then he would tear Cora apart with his bare hands if he had to, listen to her scream and beg. Rumplestiltskin was done with this game, and would not let it stand for a moment longer than he had to once he had power again.

Unfortunately, today was not that day, and he still had to eat dinner with the bitch before he could go home. Briefly, Rumplestiltskin wondered what Belle and Renee were doing right now, but he pushed them out of his mind as quickly as he could. He couldn't afford to think of them right now, couldn't afford to have Cora picking up on his worry and his love for them. As far as she knew, Lacey was just an expedient for Gold, a maid and someone to sleep with that wasn't her. He needed to keep things that way.

"Well?" he demanded, finding Cora waiting for him at the top of the stairs.

"Is that any way to greet your lover?" she purred, stepping forward immediately to brush her fingers against his face. He flinched, but was glad he'd shaved; Cora seemed to like stubble there, and he wasn't in the mood to even try to please her.

"You're not my lover," Rumplestiltskin snapped.

Her pout was theatrical. "Oh, don't say that. Not when we know one another so very well."

"Are we going to eat, or stand here and chat?" he replied gruffly, slapping her hand away.

"None of that now," she whispered, leaning in to brush her lips against his. Rumplestiltskin tensed but managed to stay still, not responding but not jerking away. He didn't want her touching him, but if he didn't force her to use one of her damn caveats, he had more options reserved for when he wanted them. She smiled. "Better."

"Not particularly," he retorted, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. His entire body was still burning, burning from the lengthy caning she'd given him, from the bout of electro-shock torture that had followed that, and from the way she'd teased and denied him repeatedly to make him beg for release. He wanted nothing more than to kill her now, or failing that, run away and hide in a corner, but he really had no options.

Slowly, Cora ran a hand down his front, pausing to straighten his tie and then dipping inside his shirt briefly, caressing welts she'd made there not so many hours before. Hissing, Rumplestiltskin twisted away from her, and then braced himself to be told not to. But that seemed to be the reaction that Cora was looking for; she smiled and gestured towards the dining room. "Come," she said congenially. "Let's eat. Christopher has prepared something wonderful, I'm sure."

"Of course he has," Rumplestiltskin sighed, pausing to straighten out his clothing before limping after her. He'd always found that his limp was so much worse after Cora was done with him—and he hoped to hell that she was done with him for the night. Other pains seemed to aggravate his bum leg, and everything was stiff and sore.

Cora just gestured Rumplestiltskin into his usual chair, and he paused to glare at her before sitting down. Of course she knew that it would hurt; what would she do if he refused to eat with her? That would probably wind up with him back in the basement, so Rumplestiltskin chose to endure a bit of discomfort instead of a few repeat lessons. Sitting would be uncomfortable, even agonizing, but that beat treatment that was becoming straight up torture. So, bracing himself, he sat.

Pain shot up from his back and behind as he did so; pressure on the welts and the burns—never too deep, and never too dangerous, but painful all the same—roared to life and left him gasping. Several moments passed before Rumplestiltskin could get a lid on the agony; Gold had been somewhat used to hiding things like this, but it had never been quite so bad. In fact, he couldn't imagine a day when Cora had packed so much pain into so many hours, and he really wanted nothing more than he wanted to go home and crawl into his own bed. And take some painkillers. His prescription for his nagging leg injury was going to be useful tonight.

I would really like magic, but bringing it before the curse breaks is just folly. There is no need to give Cora that advantage, not like this.

"I wanted to chat," she said as if she waited every day for him to swallow his pain and stop his eyes from watering. "Firstly, about why in the world you felt the need to buy out the loan that Mary Margaret owes to Madam Merryweather. That doesn't make much business sense at all, and I was curious about your motivations."

Fortunately, Rumplestiltskin had been prepared for this question, and he wouldn't have bought out that loan at all if he hadn't already had a good answer prepared. "Of course it makes business sense," he replied, rolling his eyes. "What wouldn't make any financial sense for me would be to let that loan—and it's rather peculiar method of payment—exist outside of my control. After all, it does me no good if Ms. Blanchard is locked away working for Madam Merryweather, now, does it?"

"I fail to see how it does you any harm," Cora replied, but he could hear the edge in her voice.

"Ms. Blanchard already owes me a great deal of money," Rumplestiltskin replied as dispassionately as he could—which was rather cold blooded, if he did say so himself. "And there's nothing in the terms of the loan that her father took out with Merryweather to guarantee my payment. If she worked for Merryweather, that would only pay off that debt. Mine would go unpaid. This way, I ensure the security of my investment."

Cora's eyes had been suspicious when he started talking, but Rumplestiltskin watched realization dawn in them. She was no fool, Cora, and she might guess that she'd been outmaneuvered. But why? She knew no reason for Gold to do such a thing. And even if she'd realized he was Rumplestiltskin, which she hadn't, there was no reason for him to be so kind, either. Except for straight up business. That he could speak of easily, because if Mary Margaret had to go work at Very Merry Escorts—or in the Basement, as Rumplestiltskin was quite certain that Cora had in mind for her destination—the money she owed Gold wouldn't have been paid. And that was his out.

"That hadn't occurred to me," Cora admitted after a moment.

He smiled darkly. "That's because you're a politician, dear." And because you give yourself too much credit for being able to control people, he didn't add. The curse is weakening, Cora. Otherwise, these things could not be happening.

Their conversation paused as the chef came in to deliver their meal, which, of course, smelled delicious. It always did, for Cora would accept nothing but the best. She continued to study him, having apparently decided to believe his reasoning and moved onto watching his thinly-veiled discomfort with satisfaction. Cora even went so far as to shift her foot under the table, lifting it so that it brushed against the inside of his calf and watching Rumplestiltskin flinch. He didn't want her touching him, and this was only a reminder of everything that had happened earlier.

Finally, poor Prince Eric departed, and Cora waited until she'd taken a bite of a very nice chicken picata before asking: "Do you know anything about this newcomer in town?"

"A newcomer?" Rumplestiltskin echoed, for once not even faking ignorance. Oh, he'd heard through Belle that someone had wandered into town, but he assumed it was just another lost tourist. That had happened two or three times over the last twenty-eight years, and Cora always had Graham dispose of them. Usually the sheriff just chased them out of town, but there had been at least two—a father and son?—whom Rumplestiltskin was fairly sure she sent the pirate after to kill.

"Yes. Apparently he's staying at Granny's and making himself quite at home," the mayor replied. "Talking about staying, even."

He didn't ask what the source of her informant was; clearly, Gold's own network was lagging, and he needed to talk to Dove about that in the morning. He'd been so focused on Belle and Renee that he had little time for anything else—well, anything other than shepherding the Savior along the right path, and dealing with Regina's intriguing attempt at having a love life. But this was an interesting development.

There were two, he reminded himself. Two through the wardrobe, although the Blue Fairy lied… Had he not been a Seer, Rumplestiltskin would not have known about the puppet, either, but this could be him. Or it could be someone else entirely. Perhaps someone from their world…?

"How interesting," he murmured as he sipped the admittedly good chardonnay that the chef had left for them. Rumplestiltskin needed something to soothe his sore throat, and a bit of alcohol might serve to numb things a little. Not that he dared get drunk. Gold had tried that once, and even with nothing to hide, it had not gone well.

"Do you know anything about him?" Cora pressed.

For once, Rumplestiltskin could answer with complete honesty. "Nothing more than you've said."

"Hmm."

Unfortunately, his honesty did not save him from staying the rest of the night. Nor did it save him from Cora's temper. She might accept the reason he'd chosen to 'help' Mary Margaret out, but she wasn't happy about it. Not by a long shot. Cora had clearly envisioned her stepdaughter forced into prostitution and pain, and she didn't appreciate being thwarted in that desire, even if Gold appeared to have done so unwittingly. So, she went to great pains to visit upon him the tortures that she probably hoped some unnamed customer would have inflicted upon Mary Margaret down in the Basement, and Rumplestiltskin found himself wishing he'd never met this sadistic woman. Ever.

The same evening, Emma and Mary Margaret threw caution to the wind and invited the entire Nolan family over for dinner. Henry wanted to come over to celebrate, and then he'd of course suggested that he bring his adopted father over for dinner, which made Emma suggest that he invite Regina, too. Given that Regina seemed determined to let Mary Margaret and David have a relationship, the only way to cut down on the gossip was to bring them both over, particularly since Regina seemed oddly disinclinedto get a divorce. Mary Margaret told Emma that was because of her mother, and Emma supposed that she couldn't blame the older woman for that. If Regina was right and Cora had set that fire on purpose—something Emma wasn't quite prepared to believe, given that Henry was Cora's grandson—the woman was as cold-blooded a bitch as any Emma had ever met. She apparently had her reasons for wanting her daughter to stay married, though maybe she just wanted to avoid causing a scandal in this weird little town.

It's a bit late for that now! Emma thought to herself, watching as David helped Mary Margaret cook and Regina mixed drinks. Henry, of course, was sitting at the table with the Book open, and Emma made her way over to him reluctantly. At least he's reading, right?

"Reading about the curse again?" she asked as casually as she could.

Henry looked up. "Yup. There are new pages in my book."

"What?" Emma blinked.

"Here, take a look," her kid told her, and Emma sat down next to him. She was just idly curious, of course, but how in the world did Henry's book get new pages?

Flipping back in the book, Henry showed her the new pages, which to Emma's eyes, certainly looked a lot like the old ones. But the story was new, or at least not one she remembered at all, and Emma was pretty sure that she'd read the rest of the book—or had it read to her—at least five times by now. But she hadn't read this, so Emma quickly scanned the pages, vaguely aware of the fact that Regina had approached to do the same over her shoulder. As her eyes swept over the page, Emma noticed characters that had been in other stories, like Geppetto and the Blue Fairy, but this story was about Pinocchio. And it bore very little resemblance to the Disney movie Emma remembered.

There was a whale, at least. Emma remembered that from the Disney story. Along with a lonely man who wanted a child, and who was helped by a fairy. And a puppet, of course. But there the similarities started to end, particularly when the story wrapped up with an enchanted wardrobe whose illustration Emma knew she recognized, and…with a boy being sent through with the infant, after the fairy lied to the prince and princess.

"Where did this come from?" Emma asked when she found her voice, re-reading the bit about how the boy was supposed to teach and protect the princess. Why did that make a strange twinge happen in the vicinity of her heart? It was just a story.

"Dunno. It just kind of did. I think it belonged here all along," Henry said cagily.

Emma shot him a look, and noticed that Regina didn't seem to believe that, either, but the older woman said nothing. "How does it just 'show up'?" she pressed. "I've never seen you let go of this book."

"I left it in Granny's by accident the other day," Henry replied with a shrug, and damn it all if she couldn't tell if he was lying or not. Emma didn't think he was, but sometimes it was hard to tell. "When I got it back, the story was in it."

"Henry, you need to be more careful with this book," Regina cautioned him immediately. "If my mother got a good look at it, and realized that Emma is starting to believe, we could all be in big trouble."

"Hey, what's this about me 'starting' to believe?" Emma had to ask. "I didn't say anything about that."

Regina rolled her eyes. "You didn't have to."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

"It means that dinner is almost ready and Henry should wash up," Mary Margaret interrupted, and Emma shot her roommate a half-hearted glare. But Mary Margaret was such a natural peacemaker, and she had a right to hope for everyone to get along at this impromptu dinner party after the last few days she'd had.

"Sure," Henry said, and the kid popped right up to do just that. Sensing her opening—and not to talk about this damn curse—Emma turned to Regina to ask:

"So…what else do you know about Very Merry Escorts? I'm hearing some really fishy things."

Regina glanced in the direction that Henry had headed, as if just to make sure that their mutual son was out of earshot, and then sighed. "Not much. Just that people who get hired there never seem to come out again."

"Is that all?"

A shrug, and then Regina spoke very dryly. "Pretty much. No one says much, and Madam Merryweather and I do not travel not in the same social circles."

There was something else there, something Emma couldn't put her finger on, but she couldn't quite identify what it was. Then Mary Margaret and David both came into the dining area, bearing steaming plates full of food, and Emma's mind drifted away from the subject.

David was still inside, saying "thank you" to Mary Margaret for the hospitality (while Emma hid upstairs, Regina was sure), so that gave her a moment along with her son as they sat in the car waiting. Twisting around to look the ten year old in the eye, Regina asked bluntly:

"Where did the new pages come from, Henry?"

"I told you—"

"Don't lie to me," she cut him off. "I know you better than that."

Sure enough, the way Henry glanced down and started fooling with his seatbelt told Regina what she needed to know. Henry was covering for someone, and she wasn't sure that was a good idea. Getting Emma to believe when Regina knew where all the pieces were was proving difficult enough. The last thing she needed at the moment was a wildcard inserting itself into the mix. Unless Rumplestiltskin was responsible…? I doubt that Henry would believe Mr. Gold if he told him he could add to the book, anyway. Though I wouldn't put stealing the book past Rumple.

"Do you know who put the new pages in, Henry?" Regina figured a direct question was better; it gave her wily child fewer ways around answering.

"Yes," he mumbled.

"Then you're going to tell me, aren't you?" she prompted him, resisting the urge to utter a threat while she did so. Saying she would ground Henry probably would frighten him into fessing up, but Regina preferred him to tell her because she'd asked, not because he didn't want to be grounded.

"Mom, I promised."

Ah. That was a problem. She and David had always tried to teach Henry to keep his promises, and Regina didn't want to waste that lesson. "What did you promise?"

"Not to tell Emma. It'll only freak her out," Henry said.

"Well, then we won't tell Emma," Regina agreed. "Easy enough?"

Henry's head came up to look at her, and his ten year old gaze was almost disturbingly direct. "Do you promise?"

"I promise not to tell her until she's ready to hear it, and even then, I won't tell her unless I have to. Okay?"

"Okay," Henry nodded, and then glanced around as if to make sure David wasn't in earshot. But of course he wasn't; David was still inside with Mary Margaret. "August added the pages."

"August?" Regina echoed, and then the truth hit her. "That damn fairy did lie! He's Pinocchio, isn't he?"

Henry frowned. "He said he got a little off track in helping Emma, but that he's here now. And that he's turning to wood."

"That shouldn't be possible." Regina thought for a moment, contemplating the nature of the 'real boy' that Geppetto had been given. She didn't know the story well—Snow had shared it with her years ago, and she hadn't managed to skim all of it over Emma's shoulder, but she remembered that the Blue Fairy had been involved, which meant it was probably shady and had a thousand and one catches. Even Rumplestiltskin was more direct than the Blue Fairy, and that was saying a lot. "Unless he's…"

"Lying. A lot," her son supplied, a small smile crossing his face. "He didn't say it, but I don't think August is really good at telling the truth. Even if he's supposed to be selfless, brave, and true."

Regina snorted. "Great. So, Pinocchio is here to fix what he screwed up, and now he thinks he's going to help?"

"Pretty much," Henry confirmed, and Regina scowled.

"I need to have a talk with this August Booth," she growled. And it isn't going to be pretty!

She didn't know what Pinocchio was thinking, coming into the game this late and thinking he could change everything, but Regina wasn't going to let him screw up all the hard work she'd put into making Emma believe. Of course, the idiot probably saw her as a villain—most people did, particularly with what had happened during the year leading up to the curse—so he might not listen to her, but Regina wasn't above leveling a threat or two. Maybe this 'August' would be useful. If he was, Regina would happily employ him. If he wasn't, well, he could just get the hell out of her way.

She wasn't going to let any puppet mess her family up. Not when she was so close to putting it back together again.

1 Year Before the Curse

"Psst! Regina!" a strange voice said from outside her bedroom window, making Regina twist in bed to look at the…fairy flying outside her window. "Can I come in?"

She blinked, and then blinked again, but the fairy didn't go away. No, the flying little green…person was still out there, her wings flapping merrily and a friendly smile firmly in place. For a long moment, Regina wondered if she was dreaming, but she hadn't fallen asleep yet. Or at least not that she knew of.

"Who are you?" she demanded, coming up on one elbow.

"My name is Tinker Bell. I'm here to help you."

That made Regina sit up. "To help me?"

"Of course! Can I come in? It's chilly out here, and my wings are getting tired."

"Sure. Why not?" Regina replied, shaking herself. She'd never actually met a fairy—although Snow knew plenty of them, nowadays—but she'd imagined they'd be very different. Not practically oozing with a desire to be helpful, or wearing this eager and welcoming grin. What Regina knew of fairies wasn't terribly complimentary, although she knew that her sources were biased. Her mother hated anything good, and Rumplestiltskin seemed to hate fairies on some principle that he couldn't or wouldn't explain. Either way, the only nice things Regina had ever heard about fairies came from Snow or from books, and as much as she loved her sister, Snow did tend to see the best in almost everyone.

"Great. Thanks," Tinker Bell replied, floating through the partially open window and flicking her wand so that it closed behind her.

"So, maybe it's rude to ask, but why are you here?" Regina said when the fairy didn't volunteer any other information. "It's not like I have a fairy godmother or anything."

"Why not?"

"Because…well, because I don't. I'm the Evil Queen's daughter, and I'm not exactly good myself," she replied with a scowl. "I'm pretty sure that the closest thing I get to a fairy godmother is the Dark One."

"Uck! That can't be good for you at all," was the immediate response, but Regina shrugged.

"Actually, he's not that bad," she said quietly. Much better than Mother, anyway.

"Well, I can do better than that," Tinker Bell replied with a smile, and then she deflated slightly. "Though I do have to tell you that I'm not a full fairy yet. I'm still in training."

"Then why are you here?"

"To help you rescue your True Love, of course," the fairy said as if she did such things every day. "We all know what's happened, and the fairies can see you fighting against your mother's hold. But you'll never escape without help, so that's why I'm here."

"The other fairies sent you?" Regina echoed dubiously.

"Well…not exactly. I'm here on my own. But I'm sure you'll be worth it." Without warning, the tiny fairy because human sized, her wings disappearing into her body as she faced Regina as a full-sized person. She was a tiny blond, and just as cheerful looking, but her sparkly green outfit left a lot to be desired. Regina wasn't quite sure what to make of her, but she looked so damn earnest.

"Right…" She strung the word out slowly, trying not to sound sarcastic but certainly sounding doubtful. Tink, however, only smiled again, her words coming even faster as she grew excited.

"Blue—she's the chief of our order—says you're a lost cause. But I think that she's wrong. She believes your mother has corrupted you beyond measure, but I think that you just need someone to help you. After all, if Snow likes you, you can't be some terrible and evil creature," the fairy told her, and Regina smiled despite herself.

"I try not to be," she said softly, looking down at her hands. "Mother makes it hard."

A small hand suddenly landed on top of Regina's; startled, she looked up into Tink's bright eyes. "That's what fairies are for. We're here to help."

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who nominated this story for The Espenson Awards! It's now a finalist for Best OUAT AU, and I am so happy that I could do a dance or two.

Next up is Chapter Thirty-Nine: "Friends and Foes," where Emma and Cora discuss August, Regina seeks out Errol, Killian asks Emma on a date, Belle comforts Rumplestiltskin after Cora's 'fun', and Anastasia's fate is revealed. Back in the Enchanted Forest, Tinker Bell runs into trouble and Regina visits Maleficent.