Chapter Forty-Four—"Blackmail and Broken Hearts"

1 Year, 8 Months Before the Curse

"We'll celebrate the good news, of course," George said once the happy couple told him Snow was expecting, but Snow could see the smile lurking behind the king's hard eyes. She might never like her father-in-law, but she respected him, and he'd done right by her when Cora had tried to label her a traitoress and a murderer.

"Of course, Father," Charming replied, but Snow could still seem him glowing. He was almost as proud as she was, and they hadn't let go of one another's hands since they'd walked into George's council chamber.

"Do you know the child's gender yet?" the king asked next, and Snow glanced at her husband. She had told George the news of her pregnancy; now it was Charming's turn.

"Yes. We plan to name him Leopold, after Snow's father," her prince replied in a tone that invited no argument, even from his father and king.

Surprisingly, George nodded. "Excellent on both counts. Naming him for the late king will further undermine Cora's authority, and it is a good thing for you to have an heir this early. It will silence opposition faster than any army can."

"We're glad to be of service," Snow said, her tone perhaps a little more sarcastic than warranted, but there were times that her father-in-law could be far too cold blooded for her taste. However, George seemed to sense that, and he stepped forward to take Snow's free hand, much to her surprise.

"You are a welcome addition to our family, daughter," he said with more compassion than she would usually have given him credit for. "I think my late wife would have loved you dearly."

Snow blinked; she knew enough about George to know that was the highest praise he could offer, and she found herself swallowing back sudden emotion. "Thank you," she whispered.

Perhaps she'd misjudged him. George was a hard man, to be sure, but he valued family, and for the first time, Snow felt like he valued her. This wasn't the home she had grown up in, this wasn't her kingdom, and she still had plenty of battles to fight, but for the first time, she felt like she truly belonged.

Regina knew she was insane, but somehow dinner had gone better than she expected. When Henry had suggested this, she'd thought that everything that could possibly go wrong would go wrong, but in the end, her son's idea had been brilliant. Firstly, she got the opportunity to actually talk to her sister again—even if she was 'just' Mary Margaret right now, Regina could see the real Snow starting to shine through more and more. And secondly, she got to spend some more time with Errol Forrester. Robin of Locksley, she thought, turning the name over in her mind. Now that she knew who he was, she'd looked him up in Henry's book, and found a tragic story of a noble turned thief turned heroic outlaw, a man who had loved and lost and still found the strength to go on. His story was different from hers; Regina had lost her battles where Robin had won his, but they had both lost their True Loves.

And the same person is to blame for both of our loses, she thought, feeling cold. How would Robin feel about her when he woke up? Her mother had killed his wife, had left her in a cell to rot next to him until Graham had let him go. Regina couldn't think of anything worse than watching your True Love die, and she wondered if Robin would still feel the same gaping loss that she did when he remembered who he was. Would he hate her for it, for being the daughter of the Evil Queen? Regina had nothing to do with Marian's death, but that might not matter.

Yet she was still drawn to him. Desperately so. The more Regina got to know Errol Forrester, the more deeply she fell for him, despite her best efforts not to. She knew that she shouldn't get in a relationship with a man who was under the curse—the one relationship she was unwittingly in was proof of that—but she couldn't help herself. Regina loved Henry with all of her heart, but she was tired of being alone. And the fact that Errol was clearly as drawn to her as she was to him didn't help matters. Had life been normal, had he his memories, Regina would have had a very hard time convincing herself that she should hesitate at all, and then only Cora's wrath would have worried her. As things stood, however…

"Is something wrong?" Errol asked her quietly, coming into the kitchen where Regina had escaped to do the dishes. She'd refused both Mary Margaret's and Emma's offers to help her, and was pretty sure that Emma had already been dragged off to Henry's room to look at the Book or to play a video game. Mary Margaret and David were talking quietly on the couch, trying too hard not to touch one another, but now Errol had come in and picked up a bowl to dry like he'd always been by her side.

"Should something be?" Regina countered, swallowing back her doubts.

"You seemed quiet towards the end of dinner. Nothing like the bold woman I've come to admire."

"You're the bold one. You walked into a fire," she said, but a smile tugged at her lips. Regina wanted to be bold, but she was frightened for her child, for her niece, and for the rest of her family. Her mother had been abnormally quiet lately, which meant Cora was planning something, and Regina was terrified that it would hurt Henry once more.

"That might be, but that's my job. I seem to recall you asking me out," Errol countered, placing the bowl on the counter and shifting closer to her. Unable to help herself, Regina shut the water off and turned to face him fully, drawn to him like a magnet.

She'd only felt this way once before. Was it love, or was it something more?

"Perhaps you'll return the favor someday," she replied, feeling a little bit breathless.

He quirked an eyebrow. "Do you want me to?"

"I know it's complicated," Regina said quickly, his question throwing ice water on her quickly beating heart. Of course he doesn't want to get involved with this. One affair in a marriage is enough, and I've foolishly shown that to him by inviting him and Mary Margaret over at the same time. "I wish it wasn't, but—"

Errol kissed her, and all doubts vanished from Regina's mind as her arms wrapped around him, and for the first time in decades, she no longer felt alone.

The damn woman was avoiding him, so Hook showed up at her house to make his point. He would have much preferred to have this conversation in the mayor's office, but if Cora was going to be difficult, he was more than willing to chase her down. Even if that meant going straight into the witch's lair.

Of course, Cora smiled when she opened the door. "Captain. It's so good to see you. Won't you come in?"

"Gladly," Killian half-snarled, disliking the calculating look that was already in her eyes. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Just dinner with a…friend," she purred, closing the door behind him. Killian didn't miss the subtle warning in those words, but he had already decided on this course of action, and he wasn't going to let her divert him now.

"Then I won't take up much of your time, love," he answered, glancing around to make sure that this friend of hers—and Killian so did not want to know who it was, and if they were there willingly or not—wasn't in earshot. When he couldn't spot anyone, he continued: "I understand the investigation into Sidney Glass' death has proven predictably difficult."

Cora shrugged. "There seems to be a dearth of evidence. Our poor sheriff is dreadfully unhappy."

"That's not why I'm here," Killian replied, even though he'd wanted to be sure. Gary Rathbone had dropped by when Killian had been in the Rabbit Hole to assure him of that, but the pirate wasn't one to take him at his word. Rathbone had been Nottingham's flunky in their old world, and not terribly bright there, either. He preferred to have Cora's assurances, instead.

"Then why are you here, dear? I do warn you that my patience is limited." Her tone never changed, but there was still something very dangerous in her stance, something that warned him that crossing her was a bad idea.

Too bad. Killian was about to do that, anyway.

"I'm done playing your games for you," he said bluntly. "I did your bidding with Glass, and now I am done. I'll remain your ally, and willingly, but find someone else to do your dirty work."

"And here I thought you had a vested interest in not allowing Sidney's little recordings to see the light of day," Cora replied, her slight smile still in place and laughing softly. "Are you objecting to your role in his death?"

"What role? You already said nothing can be proved, love."

Cora's smile turned nasty as her eyes flashed. "That's assuming that Sidney's apartment didn't have security cameras. Cameras that happened to show you…helping our dear little genie hang himself."

"What?" The word came out before he could stop it, and Killian hated the way his jaw was hanging open. None of those apartments were supposed to have those kind of security features—

"Of course, the cameras have been removed, and the tapes are securely in my keeping," the mayor purred, looking very satisfied.

As well she should be. She has me up on the rocks. Knowing Cora, she'd had the damn cameras installed prior to telling him to kill Glass, but there was nothing Killian could do about that now. He had to swallow a few times before the words would come out. "People will ask questions about why you have those tapes."

"Who says that I would discover their existence? Do give me a little bit of credit, Captain."

Killian was trapped. Utterly trapped. "What do you want?"

"Your continued cooperation, of course," Cora replied, folding her hands demurely. "But don't worry. I'll sweeten the pot. I understand you're growing quite fond of our dear Miss Swan."

"She's an attractive woman, and a challenge," the pirate replied cautiously. Whatever feelings might be stirring in his heart were certainly none of Cora's business, particularly since he'd yet to figure them out himself. Yes, he was attracted to Emma Swan, but he also had memories of another woman who he might just love, someone who was stuck somewhere terrible and he'd never done anything to help. Killian supposed that was very in character for a pirate, but he'd always wanted to be better than that, and every time he thought of Mirabelle, he just felt guilty.

It was easier to bury himself in this growing attraction to Emma Swan and forget about the blonde stuck in the Basement.

"Well, then I will make your challenge easier. Graham is going to check himself into the hospital for full time care, and he'll have no time for any romantic relationships," the queen told him. "Will that make your task easier and your life more pleasant?"

"Yes," he said grudgingly.

"Then I'm glad we're in agreement," she declared, still smiling.

"Indeed we are," Killian growled. He wasn't sure who he hated more at the moment: Cora or himself. But he knew that he felt dirty, tainted, and evil. None of which were feelings he enjoyed.

"Good night, Captain," Cora said congenially, and Killian was suddenly very ready to go. He turned to leave, but not before he noticed a slender figure framed in the hallway leading towards the dining room.

Gold met his eyes impassively, but Killian suddenly found himself wondering how much the demon-cursed-into-a-man had heard. Whatever it was, it wasn't good…and Killian would have to deal with it. Soon.

1 Year, 6 Months Before the Curse

It had seemed like the entire kingdom turned out to celebrate the announcement of Snow's pregnancy. Coupled with the news that their armies were one offensive away from winning the war, everyone was in a great mood. David had just returned from the front—a place that George would not hear of Snow accompanying him, not while she carried the heir to two kingdoms in her belly—the day before the feast, and he had been very glad to see his wife after an absence of two months. Snow's pregnancy was just now beginning to show, but she had glowed throughout the celebration, accepting congratulations graciously like the true princess she was. David often wished that he possessed half the natural grace and royal bearing that Snow did, but they were doing pretty well. All in all, even George was pleased, and if the crowds he was watching from the balcony were any indication—

"Charming!"

Snow's scream rocketed him into motion, and David burst through the doors into their chambers almost before he realized he was moving. His wife had gone in to lie down earlier, given how much little Leo was sapping energy out of her these days, and David had thought she was asleep. Now, however, Snow was sitting up, clutching at the bed coverings in terror, her face as white as the sheets.

Except the sheets weren't white. They were already stained in dark, red blood.

The morning after going to Cora's home, Killian attacked his problem head-on. Up earlier than usual, he was the first person inside the crocodile's pawnshop, waiting just a few minutes after Gold flipped the sign to 'open'. He could hear voices from the back when he stepped through the door, and assumed the other party was the tall jack-of-all-trades that Gold employed. He'd seen Dove carrying boxes into the back room a few minutes earlier, but everyone in town knew that Gold's henchman did nothing without his master's say-so, which generally meant he was easy to ignore. Still, Killian waited patiently enough while he heard the conversation stop, the back door open and then close again. Then he noisily cleared his throat, not liking the idea of being shut up even with the cursed crocodile and wanting to get this over with.

Gold came out of the back, limping like the old coward used to, his face politely attentive. Good. If he was wearing that manic grin, I would probably kill him here and now, despite what our good queen desires.

"Can I help you, dear?" the pawnbroker asked coolly, looking for all the world like this was a business transaction he'd expected to take place. Then again, he was cursed, so maybe he thought this was nothing out of the ordinary.

"I thought it was time we had a chat…Mr. Gold," the pirate replied, not hiding the growl that automatically crept into his voice. Just talking to the man was enough to set him on edge, which was why Killian usually avoided him. "About yesterday evening, and what you might have mistakenly heard."

The slender man folded his hands calmly on the counter. "Ah, the conversation in which you all but admitted to killing Sidney Glass for our dear mayor."

Damn. Cora could keep him silent, couldn't she? Between the curse and her 'relationship' with Gold, she should have a damn good chance of doing so…but Killian couldn't afford to count on that. Not when it was his life and his freedom on the line.

"I was thinking you might have misinterpreted something like that," Killian said threateningly, leaning over the counter to bring his face close to Gold's. "If you catch my drift, mate."

Gold just smiled. "My dear Captain, I misheard nothing of the sort," he replied with an easy shrug, and there was something in his eyes that Killian didn't like. "Although your secret certainly puts you in a precarious position. I understand that murder might put a cramp in your growing relationship with the lovely sheriff, and we can't have that, now, can we?"

The desire to reach across the counter to strangle Gold then and there was almost overwhelming, but would the demon actually die? Killian understood that one needed a certain dagger to slay the monster, but did that matter here? Either Gold was human now or only appeared to be human. He wasn't sure which, and Cora had been maddeningly unhelpful all the times Killian had pressed that topic. Still, even the crocodile had once been a man whom Killian could intimidate, and that meant that his cursed alter ego should be the same way. Didn't it? Applying the right pressure should make Gold crack, despite his fearsome reputation.

"You want to make an enemy of me, Gold," he snarled, reaching out to grasp the smaller man by the lapels of his jacket and yanking forward hard. Killian did succeed in pulling Gold off balance, but the monster's arrogant expression never flickered.

"I think we're a bit beyond that, don't you?" the pawnbroker countered, reaching up calmly to peel Killian's hands free. His smile was thin as he smoothed his suit back out, clearly taking his time and not caring how irritated it made the pirate. "As I was saying, my silence is always available. For a price."

"There always is with you," Killian spat, but alarms were ringing in his head. There was something about Gold's posture, something in his eyes—

"I should think you'd learned that years ago, dearie," Gold replied, his voice slightly higher pitched than before, and suddenly the pieces fell into place.

"Crocodile," he hissed, his heart clenching so hard from fury that he felt like it might burst. "You're awake."

"A gold star to the pirate," Rumplestiltskin said, his right hand flicking up in a flourish that Killian remembered far too well. It made him see red, made him want to do murder then and there despite his agreement with Cora. And maybe he would. What could she do to him? She still needed him to help manage the Savior, and Killian had already seen the worst Cora had to offer, hadn't he? He could kill the crocodile now, avenge Milah, and then he could finally move on with his life.

Too bad he wasn't armed. The old coward's face would look splendid with a bullet between the eyes.

Then again, throttling the demon with his bare hands would be far more satisfying.

"Before you start thinking of satisfying your quaint little quest for revenge," Rumplestiltskin said, his soft voice lifting ever so slightly, a contrast with Gold's normal tones, yet not quite the demon's old mannerisms, "You might want to consider that I am not some helpless fool in this world. All things come at a price, even vengeance."

"It's one I'm willing to pay," Killian snarled, heading around the counter. His hands—even the one he was fairly certain was not his own original hand—were itching to feel the demon's throat beneath his fingers, itching to strangle the life out of his eyes. Rumplestiltskin might be clever, even in this form, but he was a wry, thin man, crippled like the coward he'd been before. Killian could overcome him easily, so why wasn't the man backing away?

Too late, Killian realized that the coward should be trying to run away like he had before, but by then he was within reach of the pawnbroker, and a slender nine millimeter pistol was leveled at his forehead. Gold must have pulled it out from under the counter, but the demon's hand didn't shake at all, and cold brown eyes met Killian's furious gaze easily.

"In this case, the price is your death. Or, you can walk out that door, accepting that I know what you have done, and that my silence comes at a price," the Dark One told him softly, and now Killian was the one hearing a threat in the other's voice.

Quickly deciding that he couldn't outrun a bullet—and noticing that the safety was indeed 'off'—Killian throttled back his rage with an effort. "And what price is that?"

"Coexistence," was the easy answer, but the gun was still pointed directly between Killian's eyes. "If you make another attempt on my life—which I assure you will fail—I will tell our lovely Miss Swan what I know. The same goes if you attempt to harm Miss French for her association with me."

"Cora will never let you tell her," Killian snorted.

Rumplestiltskin actually laughed. "Cora doesn't have nearly as much control over me as she thinks. So. Do we have a deal?"

More than 200 Years Before the Curse

"You're thinking too hard," a voice said from behind him as Killian leaned against the starboard quarterdeck rail on board the Jolly Roger, and an arm slipped around his waist as he turned. The horizon was not nearly so appealing as the beautiful and spirited woman whose hip currently bumped against his, even if there was a stunning sunset in progress.

"Ah, you know me, love. I'm full of surprises," he said lightly, drinking in Milah's smile.

"Also full of bull," his lover and first mate replied with a knowing look, but Killian only shrugged.

"I was thinking of your little lad," he admitted. "What will he be, now? Eleven?"

Milah looked away, her smile fading. Killian knew she didn't like to talk about her old life, and he was always hesitant to bring it up, but something needed to be said. When he'd taken on a woman desperate for adventure, who had begged him to tell her coward of a husband that she was dead or already doomed to a sadder fate, he had never expected to come to care for her has he had. Then, Milah had been nothing more than an easy conquest and an easier bit of gold to be gained; she'd paid him well to tell the story he'd embellished, and that was supposed to be that. But one missed port of call became another, and soon enough, Milah was showing her talents as a pirate. Killian couldn't remember having invited her to stay, nor could he remember her asking to join his crew, but she certainly had, and she was more skilled than the entire lot of his miscreants.

After all, she hadn't earned her position as first mate because she was warming Killian's bed; given the superstitious nature of sailors (which was doubly the case for pirates), that would normally have put her right out of the running for the job. But Milah was as ruthless as she was beautiful, and had a real eye for the right kind of prize. She was fearsome and she was bold, and soon enough the entire crew had come to respect her as more than just their captain's lover. She was the perfect match that Killian had never expected to find, his equal in battle and in bed, and he loved her to distraction. That, of course, was why he brought up the boy she had been forced to leave behind.

"Twelve," she answered quietly, and now it was her turn to stare at the horizon.

"Twelve," Killian repeated. He'd known that already. He just wanted to see if she remembered rightly.

"Why do you bring him up?" Milah asked, looking at him almost defiantly.

"Twelve is old enough to be a cabin boy, darling." He gestured at the crew, three members of which were actually younger than eleven. The powder boys were small and wiry, and Killian was proud to say that his boys were treated better than any others on the seven seas. And he'd treat Milah's son better still.

Like my own, he promised silently. Any child of Milah's could be his own son, and Killian would be proud to have him by his side.

"No," Milah replied, her voice as firm and as desperate as it had been the last four times he'd brought this up. "It's too soon. He's too young."

"Soon enough, he'll be too old," Killian pointed out. The sea had to be learned early, after all, or one never acquired the proper skills. So, he took his lover by the arms and gently turned her to face him, looking her in the eye. "I'm beginning to wonder if there's more than a mother's protective nature at work here. What's troubling you?"

"Bae's safe with his father. Probably even happy," she said defensively. "Rumple's always doted on him."

"Happy?" he echoed. "In a life you said made you so miserable?"

"He's a boy."

"Misery isn't limited to adults, love. Believe me on that," Killian answered softly, thinking of being abandoned when he was younger than Baelfire was now. Fortunately, he had had Liam to look out for him, but how hard must it be on young Baelfire to live as a coward's son?

She scowled. "I know that!"

"Then let's go get him," he proposed, his voice dropping low with urgency. "I'll order the ship about right now. Forget the merchants we've been tracking. They aren't as important as your boy. We'll make port in the Frontlands in less than two weeks, and you can bring him aboard."

"No."

"Milah…"

"I said no!" she snapped, yanking away and stalking to the port side.

It might have looked undignified for a captain to follow his lover across the deck whilst they were in the midst of what appeared to be a lover's spat, but Killian knew his crew. They'd not think less of him, and if any of them were fool enough to even voice such opposition, the others would keelhaul them long before Killian got the chance. So, he strode after Milah, resisting the urge to take her arm again and simply asking:

"Why?"

A moment passed before she answered the gentle question: "Because I was a terrible mother, that's why. Rumple is sure to have wrapped himself up in Bae…and Bae has to think I'm dead. What if he doesn't even remember me?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "What if he doesn't want to come?"

"Darling, there is no twelve year old boy in any realm who won't jump at the chance to become a pirate," Killian told her with a smile. "And of course he'll remember you. I'm sure the lad misses his mother, and despises that coward you left him with."

"You don't know that. He's probably happy."

"I think you're making excuses," he said as gently as he could, not adding: I think you are afraid having a child here will cramp the freedom you so desired, and finally gained as a pirate. But Killian was not sure how to voice that thought without having Milah grow furious with him, because he did know that her freedom was important to her. That was why they'd never wed, no matter how much they loved one another. Milah didn't want to be tied to anyone or anything; she wanted to be free to leave no matter what happened. And having Baelfire on board the Jolly Roger would ruin that.

"He's too young," she repeated stubbornly, and refused to be moved from that topic.

Later, when Killian Jones met the man that Baelfire had become, he wished that he had ignored Milah's wishes and fetched the boy. Perhaps then things might have been different, and he might not have wound up making an enemy of the child whom he had once been so eager to call his own son. Even then, centuries later, he wanted to love Bae—or Neal Cassidy, as he insisted on calling himself—and perhaps that was why he made the choices he eventually did.

She recognized the number immediately when it appeared on the display of her cell phone, but still had not expected him to call. Cora answered the phone with a smile. "Rumple, this is a pleasant surprise."

"Don't get too excited, dear. I'm not calling for social reasons," the Dark One retorted, and Cora fancied that she could hear a touch of the old imp in his voice. Listening to him sent a delightful little shiver down her spine; she had missed Rumplestiltskin fiercely. Now that he was back, life was so very much better, and Cora enjoyed their sessions so much more.

She'd invited him over—forced him over (the very thought of being able to do so pleased her immensely)—once since he confirmed that he was awake, and Cora had treasured every painful moment. Her former lover had apparently been under the mistaken impression that his consciousness would make her stop, or at least lessen, the humiliations she visited upon him, but Cora had no intention of doing so. He had been fool enough to snub her, all those years ago, when she had offered him her heart. Now Rumplestiltskin would pay the price for his arrogant refusal to forgive her, for his so-called 'long memory'. Cora enjoyed making him pay, and loved the fear in his eyes when she hurt him. She savored every moment they had together, and already had a secondary plan in place in case the curse should fail. She had every intention of maintaining her control over the Dark One…even if he did not yet know that.

"Then why are you calling?" she asked, genuinely curious. At least the cards were on the table, now. That made the game much more entertaining.

"Your pet pirate tried to kill me today," was the cool response. "You should keep him on a better leash."

"Oh, was Killian yearning for revenge again?" she cooed, chuckling to herself. Keeping Hook from killing Gold for the last twenty-eight years had been highly amusing; she loved watching his frustration peak. "All over your poor dead wife?"

Rumplestiltskin had, of course, told her that story long before Hook had provided his end of the tale. Back when they were lovers, Cora found the fact that the Dark One had ripped his late wife's heart out to be incredibly intoxicating, another example of his beautiful darkness and his limitless power. Hook had never seen things her way, but she'd kept him from killing Gold, anyway. Now, despite her laugh, she was not at all pleased to learn that the pirate had disobeyed her.

"He came by to threaten me about overhearing his story about that reporter who annoyed you so," Rumplestiltskin confirmed. "Do keep him under control, or I might be forced to put a bullet between his eyes."

"I'd be terribly disappointed if you did that, Rumple," she replied, allowing an edge to enter her voice.

"Since I don't live to please you, dearie, I find myself not caring," he retorted, and just listening to the power and fury hidden behind those words made Cora want him terribly.

Still, her one o'clock appointment was about to arrive, so she had to put an end to this conversation, as wonderful as it was. "Shall we talk about that tonight, dear?"

She could almost feel his fury over the connection. "I suppose we shall," he bit out, and then hung up on her.

Chuckling to herself, Cora set her phone down very precisely on the desk, feeling a warmth at her core that only the exercise of ultimate power brought with it. She'd never once regretted ripping her heart out to achieve her aims, and she still did not. Oh, she'd lost the only man she'd ever truly loved, but what did that matter now that he was under her power? So what if he had his little maid to comfort him? She was not precisely happy about the way Rumplestiltskin's claws had come out to protect Lacey French and her brat, but she knew Rumple well enough that he was as possessive as he was protective. Knowing the Dark One, he was actually attached to the girl—Cora knew better than anyone else that Rumplestiltskin was capable of such emotions—but Lacey French was not enough to keep his attention for long. The curse might have put the two of them together via an oversight on Cora's part, but Rumplestiltskin's very nature would not make the relationship last long.

By then, he might actually want Cora back, but she was too attached to their current relationship to change a thing. She liked him on his knees before her, shaking in pain and unable to fight back. Power over the most powerful sorcerer of them all was power indeed, and Cora would not give that up.

"Your one o'clock is here, Madam Mayor," Regina's voice said from the doorway, and Cora gave her daughter a genuine smile. After all, she was in a good mood, and Regina had been behaving herself very well since the fire.

"Send him in," she replied congenially, and Regina just nodded and stepped aside.

Moments later, August W. Booth stepped through the door, and Cora felt her smile grow. "Mr. Booth. How good of you to join me."

"Mayor Mills," he said warily, sitting when Cora gestured him into the chair across from her desk. She had not risen to greet him, and would not, and he seemed to notice the slight.

"I'm always curious about why strangers choose to visit my town," she told him, just to see what he would say. "So I thought I would ask you in person."

"I'm a writer," August seemed to reply by reflex. "I like small towns."

"Oh, but that isn't why you're here at all, is it?" Cora said, keeping her smile in place. "You're here to break a curse."

The young man really was a terrible actor; he jerked bolt upright in his chair and almost jumped to his feet. His face had gone sheet white, and his blue eyes were wide with terror. The comical fear he demonstrated made Cora laugh and add:

"I have no intention of harming you, dear. You need not look so frightened."

That did not make him relax; nor had Cora really intended it to. Instead, August finally asked: "Then what do you want?"

"I'm going to go out on a limb and say that you are Pinocchio, and that you came to this world via that same lovely wardrobe that brought my dear step-granddaughter through," she replied instead of answering his question. "Am I correct?"

"How do you know that?" he demanded shakily.

Cora slid an old newspaper article out of the folder on her desk. The headline 'Seven Year Old Boy finds Baby on Side of Road" was clearly visible, and she watched August swallow several times. His fear was delicious, and Cora found she was enjoying this encounter even more than she'd expected to.

"My adopted grandson is in possession of a remarkable book," she answered calmly. "And you have not been so subtle in your efforts to make Miss Swan believe as you think."

August flinched; Cora smiled.

"What are you going to do to me?" he whispered.

"To you? Oh, I already told you that you're perfectly safe," Cora said. He really is a selfish boy, isn't he? True to character, I suppose. Still, it was time to get to the point of this visit, even if Pinocchio's selfishness did make this much easier. "Your beloved father—or should I say creator?—however, is not."

"You can't—"

"Accidents happen all the time in Storybrooke, Mr. Booth," she cut him off serenely. "But if you do as I ask, I will ensure that Marco is safe. No harm will come to him, so long as you obey me."

August deflated, and before he even spoke, Cora knew she had won. "What do you want me to do?"

"You are now my creature," Cora told him bluntly. There was no use being subtle; she wanted things spelled out perfectly so that August knew exactly what he had to lose. "Miss Swan wants you to pay the Basement a visit on her behalf. I do not want her to know what is in there. So, you will begin by failing in that endeavor. Then, you will continue by reporting to me any and all progress that our little Savior makes in regards to breaking my curse. You will also perform other tasks for me when I deem it necessary. Understood?"

"I can't betray Emma," he replied, looking anguished. "I was supposed to protect her, and I—"

"And you failed. Now you will obey me, or Geppetto will die."

She had rarely seen a set of blue eyes look so broken, and Cora had to admit that it was a beautiful sight. Several moments ticked by in silence, but Cora was happy to wait. She already knew what decision August would make, after all. He was a selfish boy turned into a selfish man, and helping a child he had once abandoned paled in comparison to protecting the father whom he clearly loved. Love, she scoffed internally. Love is such weakness. He should know that I will only continue to demand more of him, that I will exploit that weakness until he hates himself more and more, and by the time he is so desperate to get out that he might risk his beloved papa, he will be in too deep for Swan to trust him. Watching the delicate balance of betrayal was always intoxicating, and Cora simply sat back and waited.

"Do I have your word that he'll be safe?" August asked desperately.

"You do," she assured him. "So long as you behave yourself."

"I won't hurt her," he tried defiance one last time.

"Of course you won't. You're just going to spy for me."

1 Year, 6 Months Before the Curse

"What's wrong, Regina?" Daniel asked quietly as she strode into the rooms he'd been given. They were nice rooms despite the trio of guards posted outside and the plethora of magical wards keeping Daniel inside, and she did get to visit him so much more often than she'd been able to when he was in the dungeons. In some ways, however, that made things even worse, because Regina realized everything she had to lose every time she was able to even talk to him…and she yearned for the simple life they had shared for far too short a time, so many years ago.

Now, however, she was simply reminded of the fact that she couldn't help her beloved sister, even if that same sister might lay dying even as Regina went to Daniel for comfort. Swallowing hard, she sank onto the lone couch in his chambers, feeling like her heart was breaking. Yes, she was able to spend time with Daniel. Yes, Daniel's life was immeasurably better than it had been when he was imprisoned in the dungeon. But Snow…

"Snow's had a miscarriage," Regina whispered, and felt Daniel's arms wrap around her.

"Is she all right?" her True Love asked as Regina leaned into his embrace, needing someone, anyone to hold her.

"I don't know. Mother's spy in George's court says she's likely to die, but I can't go there. Mother would kill you if I did." The last sentence came out as a broken whisper, and Regina felt silent tears begin spilling down her cheeks.

"Do you know what happened?"

"Mother did it, I'm sure. I don't know how, but she's too happy. She's…it's horrible, Daniel!" the words burst out of her in a fury, and Regina felt a slight wind begin to whip around the room as her emotions stoked her magic into a whirlwind of whiplashing pain. "Snow never did anything to her, and Mother is trying to kill her. Still."

"You should go to her. She needs you," Daniel replied, his voice soft. But the generous request made Regina pull back to look in his eyes.

"I can't. Mother will kill you," she repeated.

"Regina, we both know that I'm living on borrowed time, and—"

"No," Regina cut him off, unable to listen to Daniel saying more. She might have been losing Snow at that very moment. Snow might already be dead, for all she knew. She couldn't lose Daniel, too. "Don't say that."

"My love, I am only trying to say that you will never forgive yourself for failing to go to your sister when she needs you. I cannot ask you to choose me over her," he replied, leaning in to kiss her lightly.

Regina melted into him, trying and failing not to cry. "I can't choose either of you over the other," she whispered brokenly. "Not again. I love you both."

Daniel held her in silence for several long moments, his strong arms giving Regina the safe haven she needed so badly. Finally, he asked: "Is there someone you could send in your place? If you can't go, is there someone that could help her?"

"There might be…" Regina blinked, sitting up straight. "Rumplestiltskin might help…but only for a price."

She had mentioned her teacher to Daniel before, and her former husband pounced on the idea immediately. "Then pay it. Go to him, and make a deal to save Snow."

"Thank you!" Nodding wildly, Regina kissed him again, and then rushed from the room. Her mother had forbidden her from going to Snow, but she hadn't ever wanted to stop Regina from learning from Rumplestiltskin. Cora lacked the patience to teach her daughter most magical lessons, and seemed content to have her own teacher do that, but what Regina knew things about Rumplestiltskin that her mother did not. She knew that he was still furious at her mother, and was happy to tweak Cora's tail from time to time.

Regina just had to make sure that this was one of those times.

A/N: Please accept my continued thanks for all the lovely reviews. Keeping up writing is tough with my new job, but you all make it worth doing!

Next: Chapter 45: "Puppets and Puppeteers", in which Belle deals with her father again, Cora manipulates Moe French, Emma tries to figure out what August is up to, and Rumplestiltskin buys Belle flowers. Back in the past, Snow loses the baby and learns an old secret.