Chapter Forty—"Unexpected Allies"

January would be over in two weeks, and Mary Margaret still hadn't found a job. She'd tried everyone she knew and people she didn't, but most of them wouldn't even talk to her. Those that did hear her out were usually apologetic, but they still didn't offer her jobs. Some of them just threw her resume—slender though it was, because all she'd ever wanted to do was teach—in the trash right in front of her. After a week of job hunting, she was more than discouraged; she was downright depressed. Storybrooke Daycare had been running a help wanted ad in the Daily Mirror for months now, but when she applied, suddenly they no longer had funding to hire someone else. Fagin's Group Home had been looking for a tutor before Mary Margaret had even started teaching at the elementary school, and yet now they weren't interested. She couldn't even get a job substitute teaching at the middle school or the high school, thanks to the way Ms. Cole had blackened her name with her fellow principals. All in all, Mary Margaret was lost.

Even Mother Superior had turned her away when she inquired after a secretary job at the convent, telling Mary Margaret gently that she was destined for better things. That kind response had almost made Mary Margaret cry on the spot, but she'd managed to keep it together until she got home. She was beyond caring what kind of job she was 'meant' to have. Mary Margaret just wanted a job, any job, something that could pay the bills so that Emma wasn't left hanging with them all on her own. Unfortunately, no one in Storybrooke seemed to be hiring. Or at least no one wants to hire a woman who tempted a loyal man into an affair, and who is suspected of murder, too, she thought sadly, staring blankly at the Jobs section of the Daily Mirror.

Now she was waiting for Emma to meet her in Granny's for a late lunch, because Emma had insisted she was spending too much time cooped up in the loft while she wasn't job hunting. Mary Margaret was grateful that her roommate cared so much about her, she really was, but right now she just wanted to bury herself under the covers instead of enduring the stares she still got when she went out in public.

"You okay?" a voice asked suddenly, making Mary Margaret jump. Her head jerked up from the Jobs section to stare at Ruby, who was watching her worriedly.

"Yeah," Mary Margaret answered as bravely as she could, ignoring the gnawing feeling of hopelessness in her belly. "I'm all right. Just tired."

"Job search going badly?"

"Well, I'm not sure going is the right word for it, to be honest," she replied with a sigh. "I seem to be going a whole lot of nowhere."

"That sucks," Ruby said bluntly, but a smile softened the words as the redhead slipped into the chair across from Mary Margaret, putting her elbows on the table and popping her gum nosily. "But, you know…Granny does have an opening here."

Mary Margaret sat up straight so fast that her back cracked. "She does?"

"I mean, it's waitressing. Nothing glamorous, or even much fun, but—"

"Would she hire me?" Mary Margaret asked before Ruby could start listing the reasons she shouldn't be a waitress. No, it wasn't anything like the jobs she'd ever dreamed of, but at this point, a job was a job. And Granny was honest, at least.

"Of course she would," Ruby replied with a grin. "We've only known you for forever."

A giant weight lifted off of Mary Margaret's shoulders, and for a moment, she felt like she could fly.

Regina tried not to smile as she watched Snow—Mary Margaret!—grin wildly at Red. Or Ruby Lucas, as she was known here. At least those names were similar, and from what Regina could tell, the wolf girl hadn't changed much under the curse, despite her skimpy wardrobe and rather…promiscuous attitude. Given the way the one encounter between Red and her mother had gone back home, that was something of a minor miracle. Perhaps there was something hidden behind the scenes? Regina was a little surprised that Red hadn't wound up in the Basement because of her friendship with Snow and her actions back in the Enchanted Forest, which meant there was probably some skeleton lurking in Ruby's closet that was bound to explode and hurt someone sooner or later.

But that wasn't her problem at the moment. Right now, Regina was in Granny's to see the puppet, not to worry over the werewolf. So, she shoved that thought aside to worry over later, and intercepted August W. Booth as he tried to walk into the dining room.

"A word, Mr. 'Booth'?" Regina purred, watching blue eyes go wide with terror.

That reaction was a little nice, even if she didn't really relish most people fearing her. This one was different, though. This one was trying to turn her son against her, and trying to manipulate her niece. Regina wasn't going to let that happen. The Blue Fairy's little puppet could go hang himself for all she cared, so long as he stayed away from her family. Snow was the one who liked Blue. Regina never had.

"I'm actually meeting someone—" August tried weakly, and Regina smiled.

"No, you aren't. And if you are, they can wait. Let's go to your room and talk."

2 Years Before the Curse

They thought they were safe.

They thought today was a happy day.

But they were wrong. Cora would prove them wrong. She would not allow Eva's bratty little daughter to marry her precious True Love and thus gain a happy ending. No, that prince was meant for Regina, just as Regina was meant to be queen of both kingdoms. Eva's daughter was nothing. Cora had meant to destroy her bit by bit before killing her, to make Snow suffer as Cora had suffered, but perhaps death was the only option. Today.

She had tried being subtle. She had tried using proxies. Cora had even given King George the chance to choose her daughter several times over, but the fool had gone to war against her instead of doing the wise thing. But no. The fool had jilted Cora's daughter multiple times, so now Cora would take the choice out of his hands. Perhaps I should kill him, too, she thought to herself, studying her reflection in the mirror and smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles in her dress. It was red and black, of course, tastefully jeweled and immaculately assembled. She would outshine them all, even the bride. As well she should; Cora was the Queen of Hearts, and she would not give her stepdaughter even the briefest taste of victory. But she would not kill George, she decided, going back to the question she had asked herself. No. She wanted him to know he had lost, along with his empty-headed prince of a son.

No one else had managed to do it for her, so she would kill Snow herself. Today.

Casting one last look at herself in the mirror, Cora drew on her magic and let purple smoke swirl around herself. She supposed she was powerful enough to change the color if she so chose, but purple was the color of royalty, so she rather liked things the way they were. She was the Queen, after all, and Snow White was nothing but a traitorous bandit who sought to steal what was rightfully Cora's. Just like her mother.

The crowd gasped as she appeared, just as the two started saying their nauseating little wedding vows. People leapt back from Cora, crying out in terror and pressing desperately into one another to get away from her. For a moment, Cora reveled in their fear, drinking it in and listening to the sheep bleat while she smiled. Who needed love? This was power, this was everything she had ever wanted and more. She had her own kingdom, where her very whim was law, and yet other kingdoms feared her as well. She was the most powerful monarch in the entire Enchanted Forest, able to do whatever she pleased. Oh, Regina, she thought, spying her daughter in the crowd near the happy couple. Why can't you see that this is what you are destined for?

"I seem to have missed receiving my invitation, dear Snow. But I know you couldn't have forgotten your beloved stepmother on purpose, could you have?" she asked, gliding forward with a smile on her face.

Up near the dais, George gestured futilely at a pair of guards, but a flick of Cora's left hand sent them flying back. They hit the wall with a crash, their armor rattling, and she never even bothered to look at the king. No, she never took her eyes off of her suddenly pale stepdaughter or the feckless prince who had foolishly allowed her to draw his sword.

"You know you are not welcome here," Snow replied, her voice stronger than Cora would have expected. But then, three years had passed since she had last seen Eva's brat face to face, and Snow was not a crying child any longer.

"I'm hurt that you would say such a thing," Cora replied, continuing towards the pair. "I know our kingdoms are at war, but such things should not stand between family."

She shot a pointed glance at Regina with those last words, for she knew that Snow considered Regina family. As much as that irked Cora, the knife cut both ways; if Snow wanted to call Regina her sister, she had to accept Cora as her stepmother. And she could see the irritation on Snow's face as that point slid home, which only made Cora's smile widen. One did not need their heart to sense victory, after all, and as long as she spoke of family and indicated that her presence here represented a truce, no one would guess her true motives.

Truces are for the weak. Those with power do as they please.

"Then if you are here as family, I am sure you want to offer us congratulations," Prince James spoke up from Snow's side, gently reaching out and directing the sword she still held to point at the ground.

"I certainly do," she purred, and watched George shove forward. Regina was still watching her with wide eyes, obviously expecting her mother to do something, but the girl was smart enough to keep her mouth shut. Perhaps her loyalties are adapting, Cora thought with a smile. Or maybe she simply fears for her darling stableboy. Either way, Regina clearly knew that her presence here was enough to anger her mother, and knew better than to do anything to foil her.

"Then be welcome," the king said, meeting her eyes angrily although his expression was welcoming. A consummate politician, George was, and there were times Cora contemplated making him her third husband. He'd be worthy of the role, at least, although she would have had to make sure he never stabbed her in her sleep. "We will, of course, be happy to extend a truce to you in honor of the wedding festivities."

"I'm sure you are," Cora replied. Words were important; she did not promise to abide by any such truce. Another few steps and she would be too close to fail, so she started gathering magic around herself as she covered the last twenty feet between herself and her Eva's irritating daughter. Soon she would be rid of—

"Wait a minute!" another voice cried, and Cora paused to look at a red haired peasant girl dressed in her finest, topped off by an absurdly bright red cloak. You could always see the peasants; no matter how hard they scrubbed, they brought with them the stench of desperation and barbarism. So, she turned to the peasant with contempt she did not bother to conceal, wondering why this nobody would be so brash as to address a queen so.

"Your peasants are quite without respect, dear," she sneered at George. "You should do something about that."

"Red—" the prince started at the same time, but the peasant girl cut him off, glaring at Cora.

"You're working magic," Red snapped, sniffing the air. "Dark magic. You want to kill Snow."

Cora blinked. There was something about this Ruby that made her instincts prickle. "Now, why would I want to do that?" she asked, playing for time and enjoying herself, just a little. The reasons are too long to list.

"I don't care why," the girl retorted, stepping in between Cora and the couple, loosening her cloak as she moved. "But I'm not going to let you do it."

"You can't stop me, you pathetic little girl," she replied, calling a fireball to hand and abandoning all pretext of keeping the peace. This foolish peasant had stepped into the wrong place and—

And transformed into a werewolf.

Cora had almost no time to react. No sooner had the peasant girl dropped her cloak and transformed than the snarling wolf leapt straight at Cora, teeth flashing in the bright light of the ballroom. Twisting desperately and flinging magic at the werewolf, Cora managed to avoid the claws and found out—much to her displeasure—that the legends were true. Dark magic didn't actually work to defend oneself against a werewolf; her defensive spell bounced right off of the wolf as she landed and turned around for a second attack. Instinct guided Cora—instinct and rage, for she was there to kill Snow and would not let some peasant werewolf distract her—and she flung an attack at the wolf instead of trying another defensive spell, but although it burned the wolf's fur and created a terrible smell, the creature launched itself at the queen anyway.

Too late, she realized that she should just teleport away and kill Snow another day. Cora disappeared in a swirl of smoke, but not before teeth latched into the meat of her upper left arm and tore.

Her scream echoed in the hall long after she was gone.

Fortunately, the puppet was smart enough to head back to his room without Regina having to give him more than a weak shove; she wasn't at all in the mood to play games. This idiot was trying to manipulate her family, and Regina wasn't going to let that happen, no matter how good he claimed his intentions were. So, she strode in the room on his heels and closed the door tightly, standing in front of it in case Geppetto's (no longer so little) boy got any bright ideas about running away. She didn't think he would, but there was no way to know, and Regina only wanted to have this conversation once.

"Look, I don't know what you want, but you can't just go bullying people in this world," August objected. It was easier to think of this leather-clad adult as August rather than as Pinocchio, because she'd met the boy back when he'd been a redhead and seeing him with dark hair was just plain odd.

Regina snorted. "Sure I can. What are you going to do, complain to my mother? Something tells me you'd like to stay far away from her."

That made him flinch, and Regina gave him a cold smile. Finally, he asked: "What do you want, then?"

"I want you to stay away from my son, for starters," she said, not mincing words. "Whatever agenda you have, leave Henry out of it."

"Henry is Emma's—"

"He's my son," Regina cut him off in a snarl, feeling her hackles go up. It was one thing to share Henry with Emma; Emma was starting to matter to her, and Emma was Snow's daughter. That made Emma family, but this jerk didn't have any right to tell Regina that Henry wasn't hers. She'd raised him, and she'd throw August into a wood chipper before she let him change that. "And he's not some tool in your game."

"I'm not playing any games," the puppet argued. "I'm—"

"Trying to help Emma break the curse, I know. What the hell do you think I'm doing? You're late to the game, 'August'," she told him, rolling her eyes. "I've been working on Emma for almost four months. And if your master plan is to annoy Emma into breaking it so you can see your dear papa again, you're really not doing so well."

"Don't you dare bring my father into this!"

Oh, so he did bite back. Good. Regina bared her teeth. "What, you're the only one who can cast stones? Emma told me that you fed her the whole 'Dark Princess' line and told her not to trust me," she told him fiercely. "But here's a news flash for you, puppet. Emma's my niece. Snow is my sister. No matter what the Blue Fairy taught you to believe, that matters. And I'll protect them both from anyone who comes after them, even you."

"I'm not a danger to them," August said, his blue eyes wide. Was he confused? Probably. He'd been brought up to think of Regina as a villain, probably never knowing how many of her 'terrible' deeds were done because her mother forced her to. And he probably doesn't care, Regina thought angrily, remembering how she'd felt all those years ago, forced to hurt people—even those she loved—to save Daniel. Never again, she vowed, trying to ignore the fact that she'd do the same thing to protect Henry if it came down to it.

"You'd better not be," she said, and he clearly heard the warning in her words. "Try to convince Emma all you want. But if you try to drag my son into your plots, I will make you regret it."

"You don't scare me."

Regina smiled. "I'm not trying to."

1 Year Before the Curse

She was still locked in her room.

Two days earlier, Tink had appeared like some miraculous savior, a fairy who was going to help Regina rescue her True Love. They'd had a plan, and a good one, and they'd even successfully snuck Daniel out of the palace. Tink had created a distraction that seemed to have worked, and so far as Regina knew, the supposed incursion by the Blue Fairy (and a horde of other fairies) into her mother's lands had drawn Cora away. But somehow her mother had seen right through the ruse, and there had been a trap waiting for the three of them on the road as they escaped.

Now Daniel was back in the dungeons, having again been tortured to prove a point to Regina. And she had no idea where Tink was. Her mother had said something about glass bottles and what a glittering ornament the fairy would make before taking Tink's wand and banishing Regina's friend to somewhere unknown. Then she'd locked Regina away and left her to stew, telling her with a smile that she could escape if she wanted to. Cora was certain that Snow would take her in. But Daniel would pay the price.

I should never have gone along with Tink's plan, Regina thought, pacing to the window, to the door, and then back again. I knew better. Daniel had been treated fairly well since Regina had given Snow that damned apple, and Cora had kept her promise to do so even after Charming had broken the Nightmare Curse. He'd been restricted to the castle, of course, but he'd been mostly free. Regina had been able to spend time with him—when she wasn't doing her mother's bidding, of course—and Daniel had even gained back the weight he had lost during his lengthy stay in the dungeons. Lengthy first stay, she thought dejectedly, kicking uselessly at the carpet in her chambers. Because Regina's actions had sent him right back there, after far too short of a time away. There were times she thought she was destined to be unhappy.

"Pacing is beneath you, darling," her mother's voice came without warning, and Regina whirled to face her. "Do try to conduct yourself as your station in life demands."

"I'm worried about Daniel!" The words burst out of her before she could stop them, and Regina briefly contemplated pleading with her mother for her (former) husband's freedom. But she'd tried that before, and Cora never cared.

"You should have thought about that before you put your trust in a fairy," Cora said with a shrug. "That never goes well. They all think you're evil, Regina. Why work with them?"

"Tink was different."

"Yes, and incompetent."

Snarling wordlessly, Regina contemplated attacking her mother. But that had never worked, either, and would only get Daniel hurt in the end. However, Cora must have seen the magic building with her frustration, fear, and fury, because she nodded approvingly when Regina forced the desire back.

"I'm glad you've learned your lesson. Perhaps it means we will not have to go down to the dungeons again."

Going down to the dungeons only meant one thing: that Cora would hurt Daniel for Regina's benefit. So, she shook her head quickly. "We don't," Regina said softly. "Please, Mother. I had to try—I wouldn't be your daughter if I didn't—but I know the consequences. There's no need to hurt Daniel to remind me."

She hoped that acknowledging the ways she was like her mother—even if Regina secretly hated every one of them—would provide a sop for Cora's ego and make her mother back down. And it seemed that Regina was partly right; Cora nodded slightly, looking almost like she approved.

"You do realize that he'll remain there for good, my dear," she said, and Regina's instincts told her this was a test.

Play the good little daughter. Be contrite. Behave yourself, she thought. Be what she wants, and maybe there will be another chance. After all, it had worked last time, even if the saving Daniel part of her plan hadn't. Still, the words stuck in her throat. "I understand."

"Good." Dark eyes studied her intently. "Don't forget that."

"I won't," Regina promised quietly. But I won't stop planning, either. And I won't be your precious Dark Princess, either. I'm never hurting my family again, no matter what you say.

She and Daniel had had a chance to discuss that, at least, and he'd finally started to convince her. By now, they'd both realized that Cora wasn't actually going to kill Daniel; if she did, her only hold on Regina would be gone. So, they would work with that. Regina still hated the idea of watching Daniel be hurt, but she wasn't going to let her mother make her hurt Snow again, either. She was going to have to walk a fine line between the two, but she was going to find a way. Somehow.

When the bell rang to signal someone's entrance into the shop, Rumplestiltskin had not expected his visitor to be young Henry Nolan. His mother—either of them—would have not been a surprise, but having the young lad drop by without any of his parents was a bit unexpected. Still, since Rumplestiltskin had nothing against Snow White's grandson, he didn't mind the visit. In fact, given how Cora seemed hell bent on killing the lad, he found himself a bit fonder of him than he had anticipated. Besides, the quiet voice of memory reminded him softly, he reminds you of Bae. Thinking of his son, particularly now that he was so close to finding him, was bittersweet, but Rumplestiltskin managed to shove the thoughts aside and focus on the ten year old who had walked into his shop.

"Hello, Henry. What can I do for you?" he asked.

He'd always been nicer to the boy than he might have been, even as Gold, Rumplestiltskin reflected. But the curse had given Gold a lost son, too—although the curse had interpreted what happened to Baelfire as death—and Henry had tugged on his heartstrings as well as Rumplestiltskin's. Specifically when the boy looked at him with a smile that tried a little too hard to be innocent, with hidden mischief dancing in brown eyes.

"I came by to see how Miss French and Renee were doing," Henry replied brightly, bouncing up to the counter, storybook held tightly against his chest.

"Did you now?" Rumplestiltskin asked, resisting the urge to ask to see the book. He'd known that the curse would create something of that sort, that their stories would be told, but he hoped the controls he'd put into place kept too many stories from being shared in too much detail. The last thing he wanted was Cora picking up that book and realizing that he and Belle had been married, or that they had a child.

No one knew about Gabrielle back home, and that means she ought not be in the book, he reminded himself.

"Yeah. I tried to run into her, but she doesn't seem to get out much now that she's working at your house," the boy replied, and Rumplestiltskin felt a flicker of guilt. Suspicion, however, followed quickly on its heels.

"Did your mother put you up to this?" he asked.

Henry looked at him like he was a little crazy. "No. Why would she?"

"I believe she thinks that Lacey is in danger with me," Rumplestiltskin replied honestly. But not too honestly. Words were his trade, after all, and this boy was clever enough to be wary of.

"Why would she be in danger with you?"

He shrugged. "You'd have to ask Emma that question."

"She's not here," Henry pointed out. "So, can I ask you something else, Mr. Gold?"

"You just did," Rumplestiltskin pointed out with a small smile, watching the ten year old react with a typical amount of childish frustration. But Henry pushed past that remarkably quickly.

"Can I ask you a few questions, then?" he said, and the boy was indeed a quick one.

"How many is a few?"

"I don't know yet. That's why I said a few."

That made Rumplestiltskin laugh softly. He enjoyed games such as this, and hadn't expected a child to make such an intelligent opponent. But he'd drawn this one out long enough, and Henry had earned his answers if he was going to ask the type of questions Rumplestiltskin thought he was. "You are a clever boy, aren't you?" he asked, and then continued as Henry beamed: "Ask away. Though I will not guarantee that I'll answer your questions, of course."

"You will." A brilliant smile.

"Oh, will I?"

"I think you care for Lacey," Henry replied immediately. "I think you're in love with her, and that you're meant to be together."

"I've yet to hear a question," Rumplestiltskin pointed out, trying not to be taken aback by the boy's confident response. What is in that book?

"How'd you do it?" Henry asked, and Rumplestiltskin blinked. When he didn't answer right away, the lad continued: "No one else in this Storybrooke manages to get their happy endings, but even my grandmother couldn't keep you apart. Though I bet she tried."

Not as hard as she's going to if she figures out the truth, she hasn't, he thought to himself, trying to fight back the half-smile that automatically came up when he thought of the answer to Henry's question. After a moment's contemplation, Rumplestiltskin answered truthfully. "I apologized when I was wrong," he said softly. "And I told her the truth."

"Do you love her?" the boy asked, cocking his head and looking at Rumplestiltskin with trusting brown eyes that reminded him heartbreakingly of his own son.

"Would you believe me if I said yes?" he replied curiously.

"Yeah. I don't think you're as bad as everyone says you are." Another smile, and this one almost tore the floor out from under the Dark One's feet. He could not allow himself to trust this boy just because he reminded him of Baelfire; there was too much at stake, and when the curse was broken, there was no knowing what side the Savior or her parents would take. Rumplestiltskin would not hold the child's lineage against him, but he could not afford to forget it, either.

"Oh, Henry," he said softly. "I'm that bad…and much worse."

As fate would have it, 'Lacey' French actually was actually out shopping while Henry was busy asking about her. Having left Renee with Dove's girlfriend—Rumplestiltskin's jack of all trades really was such a useful man to have on call, and Rumple had left Belle with plenty of cash to pay Marie when she needed to get out—Belle felt safe leaving Renee at home. Besides, Marie Page was one of the few people allowed in the rambling pink mansion that the curse had given Rumplestiltskin in lieu of his castle back home. That didn't even take into account the fact that Belle was fairly sure that she recognized Marie from Caerleon. While the young woman hadn't been involved with Dove back home, she was fairly certain that Babette wouldn't argue about having fallen for him once she woke up.

She'd just finished a bit of a shopping spree at Modern Fashions (Rumplestiltskin insisted that Belle spend whatever she liked, and she did enjoy nicer clothing that that which Lacey had always worn, despite telling herself that she shouldn't) when a familiar voice came from behind her.

"Hey, Lace! Wait!"

Sighing, Belle turned to watch Tony Rose jog towards her, crossing the street to the honking of several cars' horns. One of those was Keith Law's beat up old truck—which the lecherous deputy sheriff had tried to invite her for a ride in so many times—and Belle gave herself a mental kick when she half-contemplated the thought of Gaston being hit by a truck. He'd never been terribly stupid, just absolutely unwilling to use the brains he'd been born with, and a good, hard, smack might improve his intelligence level…but it was still cruel of her to have that thought. So, she pasted a smile on her face and waited for her ex-betrothed to catch up with her. And Lacey's ex-boyfriend. I'm so glad the curse didn't actually make me marry him or something like that, Belle thought with a slight shudder.

Still, she really hoped that the memories Lacey had of sleeping with Tony were just provided by the curse, and that actually hadn't happened.

"Hi, Tony," she said to get her mind off of that unappetizing possibility.

"Hey," he repeated, skidding to a stop in front of her and barely panting. Tony was even more fit than Gaston had ever been; in this world, he'd discovered gyms, golf, and working out, which was even better for his physique than hunting had been back home. And owning the Juvelisto Jewelry Boutique now that his parents were dead gave him plenty of money to waste on gym memberships. He had managers to run the store for him, after all. Tony had never been interested in working.

Now, however, he seemed to be waiting for her to say something—and hadn't that been the sum total of her relationship with Gaston, or at least when he wasn't going on about hunting trophies or jousting tourneys—so Belle bit back another sigh.

"Uh, what did you want? I'm heading h—back to Mr. Gold's, now, and I can't be too late." Using Rumple's reputation as an excuse was probably the cheap way out of this conversation, but Belle really didn't want to get stuck eating lunch with Tony. Again.

"Working you hard, is he?" Tony replied, and Belle thought it was supposed to sound sympathetic. She wasn't sure.

She shrugged. "It's a good job, and it gives Renee and me somewhere safe to stay. He's been good to both of us."

"C'mon, Lace, you can say a lot of things about the old bastard, but not that he's good to anyone," her ex replied, and Belle bit back the urge to shake him and scream to the universe that she loved Rumplestiltskin.

"What, do you think I'm lying?" she couldn't stop herself from demanding.

"I think you're making the best of a bad situation," Tony said, sounding more perceptive than she usually gave him credit for being. "You're good at that."

But Belle was done being told that she was in a horrible situation, that she was being used, exploited, or otherwise abused by the man she had willingly married. She was happier than she had been since Rumplestiltskin left for prison before the curse was cast, and she was not going to let a big lug like Gaston ruin that. Even Lacey would have been happier with Gold than she would have been with Tony; Belle knew that Lacey's fondest dream was that Gold would ask her and Renee to move in with him, even if Lacey had known that wasn't really possible. With her last conversation with her father fresh in her mind, she looked the taller man straight in the eye and said firmly:

"Look, Tony, if you're here because of anything my dad said, you can forget it. I am exactly where I choose to be, and Gold isn't forcing me to do anything. He's not that type of man, and I'm not so weak that I wouldn't walk away if he tried. Do you understand?"

"Lace, I just want to give you a better chance—"

"I make my own choices," Belle cut him off. "And this is my choice, okay? I'm flattered that you're worried about me, but it really isn't necessary."

"I can't believe that you'd willingly live with him," Tony replied, obviously not bothering to understand the bulk of what she'd said, and Belle didn't bite back her sigh this time.

"Goodbye, Tony," she said, going up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. "I'll see you around."

Without waiting for a response, Belle turned on her heel and headed up Main Street, walking quickly to bleed off some of her frustration. She didn't understand why everyone in Storybrooke was so determined to think the worst of Rumple. They didn't know him as the Dark One, and fearsome as Gold's reputation was, he'd never actually done anything to earn their ire. What was wrong with these people? She had cherished some hopes, when Rumplestiltskin told her that he'd look as human as anyone else in the Land Without Magic, that other people might come to see what she saw in her husband. That they might come to understand that there was a man beneath the monster. But they seem determined to think him a monster, even though Cora is the real monster in this town, she thought dejectedly, shifting her bags from her right hand to her left as she walked.

She wished that dropping by the shop wouldn't require her to turn back in the direction she was sure Tony still stood dumfounded in. Right now, talking to Rumple would soothe most of her exasperation away, but unfortunately, he would be at work for hours yet. So, that meant heading home on schedule instead of visiting him. They'd agreed that her coming to the shop too often would make people notice that he wasn't the cold blooded villain of their relationship, but—

"Ah, Miss French. It's so good to see that Mr. Gold isn't keeping you locked up in that house of his, after all," a new voice cooed, and Belle stopped cold before she could run smack into the mayor.

She took a moment to study the older woman, finally looking at Cora through her own eyes instead of Lacey's. Lacey had been afraid of this woman, terrified that the mayor would take the library and her livelihood away from her, or even take Renee. But Belle was not so afraid; she appreciated that Cora still had a great deal of power in Storybrooke, but she also knew that Cora had already taken everything from 'Lacey' that she could. Or nearly, so, anyway.

"Mayor Mills," Belle replied as evenly as she dared, trying to remind herself that she was still supposed to be Lacey. Lacey French had been capable of bravery—otherwise she never would have been prepared to step out of that elevator when the library was burning—but she'd also been a lot more timid than Belle was used to being. Still, she wasn't going to dignify Cora's remarks with a response. Not when Cora talked about Rumple like that.

"You're looking pale, dear. You should tell Gold to let you out of your prison more often," Cora said with sickeningly fake sweetness.

"It's not a prison," Belle said stiffly, wishing she could wear her wedding ring somewhere other than on a chain around her neck.

"You can keep telling yourself that, but it won't make it true," the mayor said, and if Belle hadn't known better, she might have thought there was concern in her expression. But Belle wasn't under the curse, not now, and she could see the calculation in those dark eyes. "I appreciate being desperate better than you probably understand, but be careful with Gold. He'll hurt you in the end."

"I suppose you're the expert on that," she retorted before she could stop herself. Belle hated lying like this, even if she understood why it was necessary. "On hurting people, that is."

She barely caught herself before angrier words came out, and Belle had to bite her tongue hard, lest she accuse Cora of some of the horrible things they both knew she did to Rumplestiltskin. She'd give anything to be able to protect her husband from this horrible woman, and even if that wasn't possible, Belle couldn't pretend that she didn't know. Besides, even Lacey knew that she hurt him. I'm not entirely out of character right now, am I? Belle thought desperately, watching Cora's face twitch furiously.

"The librarian has teeth," Cora said slowly, her eyes flashing. "I'd be careful where I used them, if I were you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Belle asked, her chest suddenly tight enough to give her voice the kind of quiver that Lacey's might have had.

Cora clearly heard the hesitation, and it made her smile nastily. "I mean that there are things you don't want to be caught in the middle of, Miss French. And this is one of them."

She'd expected a more direct threat; hearing that took Belle slightly aback. "I'm not in the middle of anything."

"See that you stay that way, dear," the older woman said, leaning in close. "Mr. Gold and I have a longstanding…relationship. And I don't appreciate anyone interfering in my relationships. Do you understand me?"

Blinking, Belle could only stare at Cora for a long moment. Listening to this woman, Rumplestiltskin's old student, tell her to stay away from her own husband was absolutely ludicrous, but it also worried Belle. I've never pressed him on why she does this to him. Rumple says that it's only about power, but there's something else going on in her eyes, Belle realized. But what was it? She'd given Rumple all the space she could. She needed answers.

"I understand," she said slowly, which wasn't the same thing as saying she'd do what Cora demanded. But Belle wasn't foolish enough to say that aloud, and she let the mayor smile and walk away like she'd won.

After all, in some ways, Cora had won. She was able to hurt Rumple whenever she wanted, and if last Sunday's wounds were anything to go by, Cora was only growing more vicious as time passed. Is that my doing? Belle wondered, suddenly feeling sick. Was Cora hurting Rumplestiltskin more because he had invited another woman to live with him? It would be very like him to not mention that to her, and Belle wasn't going to let him evade the question any longer. She needed to know.

2 Years Before the Curse

Belle hadn't been happy to be banished to the sealed off library with their daughter, but the last person Rumplestiltskin wanted knowing about her had just arrived at his gates. Or, more accurately, Cora had teleported into the courtyard, which was as far as any other magic user could make it into his castle. Rumplestiltskin had learned long ago that preventing others from teleporting in gave him valuable time to prepare for their arrival, because seeing the future didn't mean he saw everything. In fact, he was rather choosy about when he looked into the future and what he looked for, because there were so many puzzle pieces to hundreds (thousands!) of different puzzles, and he couldn't even begin to sort them all. Or want to.

So, Cora found him spinning at his wheel in his tower, surrounded by the implements of their shared trade. He didn't bother to turn to face her, feeling the slight ripple of magic as she walked in and waiting for her to say something. Cora was always impatient, and Rumplestiltskin sometimes liked letting her think she could get the first word in. Cora always seemed to think that doing so gave her and advantage, and he enjoyed that game.

Still, he was curious. He saw her less and less these days, particularly since he'd turned down her offer of a renewed relationship a year and a half earlier. Cora's pride was still smarting for that, and the only time she'd come to visit him since had been when she'd berated him for helping Prince "James" find her hated stepdaughter. And yet she was here now, strangely quiet and obviously because she needed help. How interesting, Rumplestiltskin mused, allowing himself a quick glimpse into the future as his eyes traced the steadily creaking wheel. Possibilities whirled before his eyes, one of which was quite delicious…but, alas, did not serve his purposes at all.

"Do you always ignore guests when they arrive, Rumple?" Cora finally demanded, sounding a bit peevish.

He turned to face her, still sitting at the wheel. "Well, that depends upon how welcome they are, dearie," the Dark One replied with a giggle and a flourish.

"I trust I am always welcome," she snapped, and Rumplestiltskin finally noticed that she was cradling her left arm against her chest as he closed the tap to stop his visions. She was impeccably dressed, of course; whatever dress she'd been wearing when her arm had been bitten had clearly been replaced. Not repaired. Rumplestiltskin knew from personal experience that a werewolf's bite was not something that could be healed with magic, even if it had only torn cloth.

"Do you now?" he taunted his best student, finally rising from his wheel to dance towards her on his toes.

Cora's chin came up; she was nothing if not full of self-confidence. He'd always admired that in her. "Of course."

"Well, if you say so," he said noncommittally, reaching her side and snatching her left arm before she could pull away. Cora hissed in pain, twisting away and glaring at him, but she couldn't escape Rumplestiltskin's grip. Finally, she stopped fighting him and let him inspect the wound, which he did for several seconds longer than necessary.

"It won't heal," she finally supplied when he did nothing other than study her arm.

"Of course it won't," Rumplestiltskin replied, admiring the deep puncture wounds and gouges the werewolf had caused. He'd known that making sure Red and Snow became friends would turn out to be useful, but he'd never expected the wolf to bite Cora. Thinking of that occasioned another nasty giggle, and earned him another glare from Cora. Rumplestiltskin shrugged. "Werewolf bites can't be healed with magic, you know."

"I know I can't heal it, but you should be able to."

"Because I don't exclusively practice the dark arts?" he countered, highly amused. It was odd how Cora—who could have easily used any kind of magic she pleased, had she a heart with which to choose and embrace the light—came to him, the Dark One, for healing that she assumed would work with light magic. And of course he could do light magic; his curse didn't like it, and he generally didn't do so unless he had to, but Rumplestiltskin had never lacked the ability to love that was required for casting such magic.

"Obviously." She hissed in pain as he shifted her arm, and Rumplestiltskin let her go with a shrug.

"No magic, light or dark, will heal that wound, dearie," he told her honestly. "And you have bigger problems than the holes in your arm."

Cora gave him a look she'd probably reserved for Regina when she was young and stupid. "I know that," she snapped. "That's why I'm here."

"Ah, are you looking to make a deal, then?"

"I'm not giving you another favor," she retorted immediately, and Rumplestiltskin smiled.

"Picky, are we? I suppose I could just let you turn into a werewolf. It might even be amusing." He knew his giggle got on her nerves, but at the moment, that was rather the point.

"I can make the antidote myself," Cora snapped.

"Before the next full moon? My dear Cora, even you'll need far more than a month to get that potion right," Rumplestiltskin replied, wiggling a bit. He held his right hand up, fingers less than an inch apart. "It's just a wee bit complicated… And it so happens that I have some on hand. Already complete."

"Fine. What do you want?"

"A certain magical globe in your possession," he told her, casting his mind ahead through decades to when a curse broke in another land, to when he'd bring magic—the potion required to do so was already marinating, almost complete where it was locked away with its twin. Then he'd need that globe to find his son, and Rumplestiltskin was not going to leave that to chance.

"It's yours, provided you can give me the potion before I begin growing hair in undesirable places." To give Cora credit, she was practical woman despite her pride. And she was a sorceress, which meant she understood how inconvenient a werewolf's curse could be, particularly in the first month.

"As I said, I already have some, waiting just for you."

Rumplestiltskin wasn't about to tell Cora that he hadn't brewed the antidote for her, of course. He wasn't going to mention what he'd actually needed it for several years earlier, because that would take admitting to one of his own stupider mistakes. And that was hardly necessary. Instead, he waited for Cora to summon the globe in question and then handed her the bright green potion that he'd had tucked away in a corner of his workroom. She disappeared before drinking it—probably not wanting him to see her reactions to its unpleasant side effects—leaving Rumplestiltskin to tuck the globe away in his vault and return to his family.

Of course, Cora's encounter with 'Lacey'—and the fact that she could no longer get the upper hand over the supposedly meek librarian—put her in a mood to take her frustrations out on someone, and as usual, Gold was her target of choice. He wound up spending the night at her house once again, less than a week after his last session with the mayor. As a result, many of the old welts burst right open, and Cora really didn't seem to care about that. He was near to staggering by the time he got home the next morning, dizzy and hurting more than he'd been in a very long time. Belle was waiting, but she didn't say a word, just welcomed him into her arms with a kiss on the cheek and hands that slipped tightly into his hair. After a night with Cora, that kind of touch from anyone else would have terrified him, but not from Belle. Not now that he was used to being able to come home to her.

"Do you need to get cleaned up?" she asked after several long moments, and Rumplestiltskin nodded mutely.

"Then come upstairs. Babette—I mean Marie—is in the living room with Renee. I called her about an hour ago."

"Thank you," he whispered raggedly, not willing to fall apart in front of their daughter but barely able to hold back the need to sob his soul out in Belle's arms.

Slowly, his wife led him upstairs, helping Rumplestiltskin peel his clothes off once they got into the bathroom. Actually, Belle removed his shirt and pants while Rumplestiltskin leaned heavily on the sink, trying not to cry out in pain as she peeled his shirt away from where it was stuck to his back.

"Rumple, this is bad," Belle said softly, her hand squeezing his shoulder gently. "I think you might need to go to the hospital."

"I can't."

"You're bleeding! And not just on your back, but—"

"No," Rumplestiltskin cut her off desperately. "I can't." He'd deal with worse before, after all, and he did not want word of this getting around Storybrooke, cursed or not. And Whale would never be able to leave things alone. He'd want to know what had happened, and with Rumplestiltskin's luck, he'd think Belle was somehow responsible. "I'll be all right."

"Rumple…"

Twisting to look at his wife, he gave her a tight smile. "Really. I've faced worse." Just not all at once.

Belle frowned, giving him a look that communicated love, worry, and disbelief all at the same time. He could only shoot her a tight smile and try to bite back his cries when Belle slowly cleaned out the wounds and bandaged him up. Her touch was gentle, but it still hurt, and it was all Rumplestiltskin could do to face the pain—well, not bravely, but at least with a little self-control. Cora's given me plenty of practice with that, at least, he thought bitterly.

"You're not going to open the shop today," Belle decreed.

"I shouldn't stay home."

"You're going to. Or you're going to the hospital, and that's that. No arguing, Rumplestiltskin," his wife told him firmly.

He sighed. He really was tired, after all, and really didn't want to face the world right now. "All right."

"Let's get you in pajamas and in bed, then," she replied, kissing his cheek with a slight gleam of relief in her blue eyes.

It was the let's in that sentence that made Rumplestiltskin obey without argument. He could try to be strong, but they both knew what a coward he really was, and Rumplestiltskin needed Belle right now. The thought of being able to lie down with his wife instead of Cora, of having Belle stroke his hair and soothe his pains and fears away, at least for a little while, was downright intoxicating. And that was far better than the thought of going to the hospital and letting Frankenstein poke at him.

"There is something that just occurred to me," Rumplestiltskin said softly as Belle helped him into bed a few minutes later, with bandages keeping his silk nightclothes from sticking to torn sink.

"What's that?" Belle asked as she quickly changed back into her own pajamas—which were really just a set of his that had always looked so much better on her than on him. She'd borrowed them back when she'd been Lacey and he'd been Gold, but Rumplestiltskin still loved the way Belle looked in them. Usually she wore a nightgown that he'd bought her, but sometimes she still wore these, and it always made him smile.

"Well, there's one thing we can do before we go get ourselves married in this world. Or should do, anyway," he answered. "I think you're already listed as my emergency contact from back when I was Gold, but we should probably make sure I'm listed for you and Renee."

"I don't like thinking of anything like that happening, but you're right," Belle agreed, crawling into bed with him. "Just in case."

They had been planning on going to town hall this morning, counting on Cora's usual Monday schedule to take her for a walk around town, but there was obviously no time for that now. They'd have to wait until the next Thursday to have an opportunity to do the deed without Cora knowing, because even if Rumplestiltskin could and would bribe the clerk, getting married with Cora in the same building was just asking for trouble. Cora would never believe that Gold would marry his 'doxy', so he had to keep it from her at all costs.

But for now he had to sleep, and figure out how to heal enough to face the world the next day.

Pathetic Authorial Plea for Votes: this story has been nominated for Best AU!OUAT The Espenson Awards on Tumblr. Voting ends on the 7th, and if anyone is willing to vote for it (or for me as Best Author) I would be incredibly grateful! If you're interested, you can go to theespensonawards on tumblr. If you're interested in voting for any of my other stories, two others are on there as well, both "Original Powers" and "Remember". Again, thank you for all the nominations – I feel honored to be included in a group of such amazing stories and authors!

The actual A/N: Next up, Chapter Forty-One: "The More Things Change…" in which Mary Margaret runs afoul of Cora at her new job, Killian tries to 'rescue' Lacey, and Belle and Rumplestiltskin discuss Cora. Back in the past, Snow and Charming finally finish getting married and Rumplestiltskin makes the stupid mistake referenced in this chapter.