Chapter Fifty—"Magic"
David had long since gone to sleep—in the guest room, since he insisted on leaving Regina the master bedroom—but she was still awake, even if she was now too tired to pace. Her conversation with Cora from two days earlier still rang in Regina's mind, and she wasn't sure what she should do. Back in the Enchanted Forest, the choice had always been straightforward: Cora would kill Daniel if Regina acted against her (save in small ways; her mother seemed to find those amusing). But Cora had been in control of Daniel there, had imprisoned him starting back when Regina knew nothing about magic and could do nothing to save him. Here things were different, and Henry's words to her about how heroes always fought back kept ringing in her mind, too.
Sighing, Regina leaned against the window, looking out at the lights of midnight in Storybrooke. She had never been a hero, but she'd always wanted to do what was right. She'd failed at that, so very miserably, so many times, but that didn't change the fact that Regina wanted to. And maybe Henry was right. Maybe it was time for her to fight back, particularly here where—
That cloud formation was moving far too quickly to be a natural weather event.
She had been staring out the window blankly as those thoughts tore wildly through her mind, but movement caught Regina's eye. Focusing on the clouds as they quickly rolled in, she blinked once, and then twice, trying to make sense out of what she was seeing. Regina had only seen something like this once before, and that had been when the curse clouds engulfed the Enchanted Forest, sucking the inhabitants out and bringing them here. This looked just like that, although Regina had no idea what could have caused it.
Mother, what have you done? She just had enough time to think that thought before the purple—she thought they were purple, but it was hard to tell at midnight—clouds engulfed her home, and Regina suddenly felt an undeniably tangy taste in her mouth.
Magic.
A shiver tore down her spine, and Regina immediately knew that her thought was right. Someone had brought magic to the Land Without Magic—but how? Oh, if her mother had known how to do that, the curse would have given it to her in the beginning, because Cora loved power, and magic was power. So, it couldn't be Cora. That only left one person, the wiliest bastard Regina had ever met, but he was stuck in a hospital bed, broken and beaten half to death. How in the world could he have pulled this off from the hospital? And how do to it, anyway? Bringing magic to the land without it was, or at least should be, impossible. Utterly so. This land didn't have any magic; that was why everyone was so miserable! Yet here it came.
However the feat had been done, Regina had no doubt that it was Rumpelstiltskin's doing. Apparently, he was sick of lying in bed with such grievous injuries, and she couldn't blame him. He'd solved his own problems…but he also might have changed hers. With magic here in Storybrooke, did Regina have other options? Her mother would be able to hurt Henry, but Regina would be able to protect him, too. Wouldn't she?
It was like being able to breathe after an eternity in vacuum.
Magic.
The very thought could send a shiver down Rumplestiltskin's spine, but the feeling of magic seeping into his bones was even better. He suddenly felt alive again, like he had been sleeping for decades and was only now returning to himself. But those first few moments were crucial, and he had to use them right. With magic came his curse, came darkness and evil, and he had to restrict that. The curse of the Dark One was native to the Enchanted Forest, and if he made a few sacrifices now—restricted his own power, distanced himself from the curse just a tiny bit—he could leave some of it there. He only had seconds to do so, seconds to choose to be better than his curse wanted to be, but his family deserved that. All of them.
I will find you, Bae, he promised silently, feeling his curse latch onto him as fully as it could. And I will try to be the man you wanted me to be. I promise.
It was done, or as much as he could do the deed. Rumplestiltskin hadn't managed to push much of the curse away, but he had done what he could, and he would have to live with that. Perhaps he could be better for his family's sake, but either way, he had magic now. And now he could slowly begin to heal. Finally, he thought desperately, feeling the first tendrils of magic working to ease his breathing. Each breath had burned terribly since his ribs were broken, but now the pain slipped away, allowing Rumplestiltskin to suck in his first deep breath in days.
Ribs first, then. Rumplestiltskin did rather like breathing. He couldn't heal them entirely, lest the medical establishment here in Storybrooke realize that something very odd had happened, but he could speed the process along and cushion the rest of his body from the still-fractured bones. Interestingly enough, his curse hadn't started the healing process automatically, as it would have back home. Generally speaking, he stopped it when that happened, as he preferred to heal himself consciously and properly, as opposed to letting his curse do it the quick and dirty (and often more painful and costly) way. Here in Storybrooke, however, his curse had not gone to work immediately. Odd. Was that from the way he'd walled part of the curse off in the Enchanted Forest, or simply a limitation of the Land Without Magic?
Rumplestiltskin had always known that magic would be different here, particularly for him. After all, its basis was True Love, and although that was the most powerful and purest magic of all, it was undoubtedly light magic. Oh, there was room for darkness in love—love could drive people to do the most terrible things—but at its core, True Love was light magic. As the Dark One, he'd anticipated accepting a handicap because of that. His very nature was dark, and although Rumplestiltskin had found that he could use light magic, doing so was not pleasant. He'd never liked to be limited, magically speaking, so he had painstakingly taught himself to heal—actually heal, not the throw-power-at-a-wound-and-force-it-shut approach of dark magic—and perform other feats of light magic. But it had never been easy, and never been powerful…until he and Belle had been surrounded by werewolves and he'd drawn on something other than his curse to protect her.
Now he found light magic easier to harness than it had been in the Enchanted Forest, and Rumplestiltskin had to wonder if that was because the True Love potion used to bring magic to Storybrooke had been theirs. His and Belle's. The one he hadn't intended for this purpose, but had wound up telling Belle to use anyway. He supposed—hoped—that he could make another bottle, but that would have to wait until he was out of the hospital and until after he'd figured out the pitfalls and weaknesses of magic in this world.
His magic went still, waiting for his command impatiently as it finished the job of mostly healing his ribs. Rumplestiltskin paused for a moment, contemplating what to heal next, and finally aimed for his cheekbone and the nagging concussion. Perhaps his thoughts inadvertently shied away from the mess that was his right leg, but he really didn't want to think about that right now. He had no idea how much of it he could actually heal, if he'd be left worse off than before or—
Stop that, he told himself firmly. You are the Dark One, not the village coward. You can face this. This injury isn't one you did to yourself out of desperation and terror. This was done to you, and you will not let them win by letting it destroy you. He could do this without losing himself in fear. He was not helpless. He would not be afraid.
Sucking in a deep breath, Rumplestiltskin smoothed out the rough edges of his head injury, knitted up his cheekbone—again, only mostly, and throwing a cushion between the damage and the rest of his face so that it could do no more harm—and finally forced himself to focus. Age old terrors tried to rise up, along with them the crippling self-hatred that he had carried with him since he had been a small boy, but he pushed them aside with an effort. His eyes slid shut, and for the first time in his long life, he looked at the mangled mess his lower right leg had been for centuries.
The leg was a mess. Whale had been right; circulation was impaired, and some of the bones were outright pulverized. Most of them, even. But what science could not heal, magic could, and his attackers had inadvertently done him a favor. A favor. Right. Rumplestiltskin snorted. Next time I'll be sure to thank them as I lie on the ground being beaten! A surge of fury, hot and powerful, accompanied that thought, and he had to spend several moments beating that down before he could focus on his injuries once more. Kill them all, his curse threw fuel on the fire of his rage, louder than it had been since the Enchanted Forest, and Rumplestiltskin heard an ominous rattling coming from his right. His eyes flew open, and even as they did, he felt a cold wind rising in the hospital room. Magic whipped around him, dark and dangerous, shaking any objects that weren't fastened down and making the door rattle in its hinges.
"No," he growled, forcing his fury down and the curse with it. Rumplestiltskin hadn't lost control like this in ages, but the verbalization of his refusal to let it continue did him no good. Desperately calling up joyful thoughts—Bae touching his nose as a baby, Gabrielle giggling as he threw her in the air, Belle kissing him in Amorveria—he slowly throttled back his anger, ignoring the deafening cries of his curse for vengeance. The voice was louder now, and his rage a tangible force to be reckoned with; he was the Dark One again, fully, and there was no avoiding that. Still, thoughts of his family finally calmed the tempest, and after several tense moments, the wind died down.
Rumplestiltskin let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. Now wasn't the time to destroy the hospital, although judging from his curse's demands, it would have been happy to do so. Delighted, even. Forcing it aside, he focused on his leg again, starting at the knee and working his way downwards, grasping thread after thread of magic and weaving them around the shattered bones and injured tendons. Slowly, he worried the damage in a way no healer had ever done for him, piecing it together bit by bit, with patience and with skill. It was a far cry from the way the Duke's army healers had been refused permission to even set the leg, so many centuries earlier. The ramshackle brace Rumplestiltskin had worn was something he had cobbled together himself, because magic should not be wasted on a coward, and if he wanted to hurt himself, he was welcome to lose the leg, so far as the Frontlands generals were concerned.
He hadn't lost the leg, but had gained an injury that kept him from walking unassisted until Rumplestiltskin took on a terrible curse to save his son, discovering immediately that the demon inside him did wonders for his bone structure and muscle tone. He'd all but forgotten about the injury until he visited Amorveria for the first time, and then much to his devastation, had discovered that it carried through to the Land Without Magic. But Rumplestiltskin was honest, at least with himself. Had the leg not been so energetically re-shattered by Moe French and Tony Rose, he probably would never have bothered healing it. He lacked the courage to recreate the injury himself, which would have been what was required, even to heal it using magic. Maybe he would have eventually constructed some sort of magical brace so that he could walk unassisted, but he never would have actually faced the pain it would have taken to fix the injury. Now, however, he had little choice in the matter, and that made his decision for him.
Days would pass before the healing process was complete; once Rumplestiltskin set his magic to work, and fueled it properly, it would do the job with only a corner of his mind required to supervise the process. But within four or five days—it would have only taken two in the Enchanted Forest, but magic was different here—he wouldn't have a limp at all, and that thought finally made Rumplestiltskin smile.
Thank you, Belle, he thought towards home, wishing he could have her here but knowing she'd come in the morning. He still wasn't sure how he'd come to deserve an amazing woman like his wife, but he would not give her up for the world.
The next morning, the majority of the residents of Storybrooke were still oblivious. They went along with their daily routines, which were slowly but irrevocably changing as time continued marching onwards, adapting to the real people beneath the curse and slowly allowing their true selves to shine. Still, none of them had any idea what had happened the night before; the few people who had noticed the "storm" just seemed to think it was some very odd weather event. The slumbering magic users amongst them sometimes realized that there was something different in the air, but none of them knew what, and all of them ignored the feeling. Most people hadn't even noticed the sudden onset of dark clouds near midnight, particularly because they'd only lasted a few minutes.
Oddly enough, Leroy seemed to be one of the few people who had noticed, and he was talking about it with a nun. "I swear, I wasn't drunk," he told Sister Astrid. "I know what I saw, and there ain't no clouds in this world that are supposed to be purple."
Astrid giggled. "Are you sure that you hadn't been drinking?" she asked him with a smile that no one could stay mad at. "Just a little?"
"Well, sure, I'd had a few, but not enough to make me see colors," the janitor argued. He'd finally gotten his old job back after years in the asylum, and although no one made the mistake of thinking that Leroy was satisfied with that very-not-glamorous role, he seemed happy to be working.
"If you say so," the young nun said with another smile and a self-effacing giggle. "I bet it was just some very strange storm, like everyone else is saying."
"But what do you think, Astrid?"
She shrugged. "I'm not smart enough to think of something. Everyone says so."
Mary Margaret had to turn away at that heartbreaking response; Astrid was a lovely girl, even if she was a bit clumsy, and Mary Margaret hated the way everyone seemed willing to call her stupid. She wasn't stupid, or at least not as far as Mary Margaret could tell, but even the other nuns picked on her. It wasn't right, but judging from Leroy's response—which she only half heard—at least Astrid had someone in her corner now. Maybe Leroy would be the friend she needed to finally find her courage.
"Hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon, right?" a voice asked, as if David didn't already know exactly how she liked her hot chocolate and they hadn't meant to meet at Granny's that morning.
"Yes, thank you," Mary Margaret replied, smiling up at him as David sat down across from her. Now, she only felt a flicker of guilt when she met with this amazing man, even though he was married to someone else. But Regina had told them both that it was all right, and Mary Margaret now knew that someone else seemed to be finding his way into Regina's heart. She wasn't sure how David and Regina had wound up together in the first place, because they didn't seem to fit at all, even though she knew they were still friends. She and David, on the other hand…well, she felt like she had known him forever.
"You know, Henry likes his hot chocolate the exact same way," David supplied with a shrug. "Regina hates it, so I've never figured out where he got it from."
Mary Margaret chuckled. "Well, if he's right about this fairy tale thing, then I'm his grandmother."
"And I'm his grandfather," David snorted with laughter, but then he shot her an evaluating look. "You know, it wouldn't be so bad to be married to you."
"Oh, it wouldn't be so bad, would it?" Laughing harder, Mary Margaret punched him lightly in the shoulder. "That's a ringing endorsement!"
"Well, spousal abuse is frowned upon in any world," he shot back with a grin. "I think."
A few moments passed as they grinned at one another and dug into their steaming hot drinks—a necessity in January—but then Mary Margaret saw a flicker of something pass across David's face. "What's wrong?" she asked quietly.
"It's nothing."
"David." She reached out to put her hand on top of his, and watched him grimace. "Let me help."
"It's just…well, you're the last person that I should talk to about this. It's not fair to you," he answered after a moment, looking uncomfortable.
"Regina."
"Yeah. I…I'm just worried about her, that's all," David replied, obviously trying to make light of whatever was eating at him.
"Did something happen?" Mary Margaret asked.
"I don't know. We still seem to be friends, but she's been closed off, lately. Like she's really worried about something, but when I ask her, she just brushes it off or says that I wouldn't understand." He groaned. "I think it has to do with her witch of a mother, but she won't say."
That made her cock her head. "I thought you liked Cora?"
"If I ever did, I'm not sure why," David said dryly. "She's horrible. She treats Regina like she's her servant, and looks at Henry like he's dirt beneath her feet. Even when she's trying to be nice, you always feel like there's a headsman waiting in the next room, just in case you tick her off."
"That's terrible!" But Mary Margaret had a hard time holding back a giggle at the mental image of Cora hauling a headsman around with her. She could see a black-dressed reaper following Cora around town, just waiting for his next victim. Oddly enough, the only person in Storybrooke who she could even think of fulfilling that frightening description was Mr. Gold, though, and Mary Margaret couldn't imagine him ever doing Cora's bidding.
"It makes family dinners suck, that's for sure," he replied with a shrug. "I'm not even sure if Cora's the reason Regina seems so jumpy lately, but I wish I could help her. I mean, we are still married, and even if we weren't, I still care about her, you know? I'm just not in love with her."
The last words sounded defensive, and David looked at Mary Margaret like he expected her to hate him for them. But she didn't. How could she? David was a good man stuck in an impossible position, and she understood caring for Regina. After all, she'd liked David's wife the few times she'd met her, and they'd really hit it off during that last dinner. She wanted to help Regina, too.
"Do you want me to try talking to her?" she offered with a shrug. "Maybe it's something she doesn't want to talk to a man about."
David scowled. "Are you serious?"
"Hey, don't pretend to understand the mysteries of a woman's mind, Mister," Mary Margaret teased him. "You'll only make a fool out of yourself."
David laughed, but in the end he accepted her offer. Mary Margaret wasn't sure how she was going to find a time to talk to the mayor's daughter, but she was going to do it. If Regina needed help, Mary Margaret was going to be there for her. She wasn't entirely sure why she was so determined to do so…but she knew that it was right.
Meanwhile, 'Mother Superior' stared wide-eyed at her wand, looking at the sparkling flower lying on her desk. This cannot be happening, she thought desperately, but she knew that it was. She had done the spell three times, and although her magic was choppy and erratic, there was indeed magic in the Land Without. That changed everything, and although she had no idea how such a thing had happened—it should have been impossible!—there being magic without the curse having been broken was a disaster waiting to happen. Magic existing in this world at all was catastrophic. Her fairies should be safe enough since she had their wands carefully locked away, but there were dozens of other magic users in town, minor and major both. What would happen if one of them unknowingly lost control?
Swallowing carefully, Blue squared her shoulders and forced herself to calm down. Of course this had to be the Evil Queen's doing. Cora must have found a way, probably with her old ally, Rumplestiltskin's assistance. Blue had suspected for some time that Cora had awoken the Dark One, probably out of boredom and fear of Emma Swan. What havoc the Dark One could wreak with magic in this land was beyond comprehension, and Blue knew that she needed to act quickly. I must protect the Savior, she thought. August will have to keep an eye on her, and we must find the dagger. She would have to push August into impersonating Baelfire. Rumplestiltskin was desperate enough to hand the dagger over to a man he thought was his son, even with magic in Storybrooke. That would be the only way to keep Emma safe.
The others who might accidentally access their magic were not her problem unless they endangered those Blue needed to protect. Any injuries they caused would be regrettable, but Blue had to remain focused. They had to protect Emma, and that meant gaining a powerful magic ally (unwilling or not)—and prying her away from the Dark Princess. Despite how Snow felt about her step-sister, Regina had always played her mother's game, and Blue would not let Regina ruin things now. Not when they were so close.
First the Dark One. Then we will use him to pull Henry away from the Dark Princess and keep him safe for Emma, she decided. That is the only way. Henry would not be happy to be separated from his adopted mother, but he would come to understand. Sometimes, regrettable actions had to be taken in order to protect the greater good. Blue knew that from experience, and she had not lived so long and fought so hard to falter now. She would do what had to be done, no matter how distasteful it became.
Above all else, she needed to keep Baelfire away from Storybrooke. Through Henry, he represented a familial link between Snow's family and the Dark One, and Blue could not let that happen. No matter what.
1 Year, 3 Months Before the Curse
The royal train arrived at the army's camp just a day after the final battle of the war. They'd already been on their way, alerted by Sir Lancelot, the top general in George's army, that their forces were closing in on Cora's capital city and expected to encounter the enemy at any time. So, George, David, and Snow had ridden hard and fast to get there, only to find that they were a day late. The battle was over—and won, the heralds were quick to announce!—but Lancelot was dead.
David had not known the knight well, but he'd liked him, and he grieved to know that Lancelot had given his life in service to George's kingdom. Lancelot had once saved his mother from a group of ruffians; the thieves had had no idea that they were attacking the actual mother of their 'prince', but Lancelot was one of the few people who were aware of the fact that David was actually not the same person as James. He'd been a friend of James', even, but he'd still looked after Ruth when David could not be there himself, and that alone would have made him a lifelong friend. Now, however, he was gone before David could really get to know him, and there was a suspiciously empty pang in his heart because of that. And doubly so because my adopted 'father' barely seems to grieve for his general, even though he's known Lancelot for years, David thought darkly, trying not to snarl something regretful out loud as he walked across the camp.
No one would ever call King George an affectionate man, although he'd melted slightly towards David and Snow both in the past few years. He'd taken Snow's miscarriage very badly, particularly because Cora had deprived him of an heir to both kingdoms with her poison, but he didn't seem to blame Snow for that, thankfully. David was very well aware that George could have chosen to blame her, despite the fact that she'd never done anything to make Cora hate her so much. Fortunately, George had reserved all of his ire for Cora, and had proven extremely supportive of Snow…or at least since three separate midwives all confirmed that she was still capable of bearing children.
Slipping between two tents, David headed for the center of the camp where the royal enclosure was located. After the last battle, the army—under its new general, of course—had begun to lay siege to Cora's capital city. The war would end when they could wrest Cora out of the city or negotiate some sort of surrender, although David had to admit that he really hoped they could kill his stepmother-in-law. Snow might hope that Cora would see reason, but David knew better. Cora had been trying to kill Snow since she was a child, and she would never stop. They either had to strip her of her powers, or—
The sound of voices stopped him cold, and for a moment, David thought wildly that the rumors about Cora's power had to be correct, and she could hear people thinking about her. But that was ridiculous, and she was taking to someone else already.
"I thought we could come to some sort of accommodation without all these silly armies standing in our way," the Evil Queen purred. "After all, continuing to get so many men killed is rather uncivilized, isn't it?"
"Says the woman who has tried repeatedly to kill her stepdaughter," George retorted, and David almost jumped out of his skin. "I would hardly call that civilized."
Heart hammering in his throat, David inched closer, staying behind the tent that was the king and queen's view of him, but trying to find an angle at which he could spy on them from. He didn't like George, but he'd come to trust him. Was he wrong? Was Cora's 'accommodation' going to make George swap sides? If so, then were would Snow be?
Right in the middle of an army with no reason to keep her alive. If George comes to a separate agreement with Cora… David shivered, but strained to hear more when Cora laughed.
"Needs must, dear. The girl is a nuisance, as I'm sure you've already discovered."
"She is incredibly willful," was the dry response, and David had to stop himself from bursting out of the shadows then and there, to see if they'd carry on this conversation with him present.
"Well, then," Cora smiled; David could not see her face from this angle, but he could hear the pleasure in her words. "I understand your desire to unite these two kingdoms, and you've made admirable efforts on that front. But I do think you're going about it the hard way."
George snorted. "Do you?"
"There is a much more simple way to do so. You and I should marry."
There was a long moment of silence before David heard his adopted father laugh. "Do you know…I think that's the first weakness I've ever seen you show."
"It is not weakness to admit that an enemy has strengths. Or to seek to harness those strengths alongside one's own," Cora replied easily, and George snorted.
"So you can kill me like you did your last two husbands? No thanks."
"Of course I would never kill a king such as you. Henry was weak, and Leopold was…an irritant," the Evil Queen replied. "You, on the other hand, have proved your strength. I can respect that, and we would make a good team, don't you think?"
David could see George's face as the king pulled away from Cora, and he was scowling. "I prefer not to marry the woman who murdered my grandson," he snarled, and relief washed through David so quickly that it almost tore him off his feet. "Guards!"
Men leapt into motion at George's call, David amongst them. He knew what George was thinking. If they could capture Cora now, the war would be won in one fell swoop and—
"You will regret refusing me," Cora snapped at George even as a dozen guards rushed towards her, swords in hand. "And you will bow before me one day. You will kneel until your kneecaps break. All of you!"
With those words, the Evil Queen disappeared in a swirl of purple smoke, leaving the guards threatening nothing but thin air. George, on the other hand, simply stepped out of the fracas and gave David a shrug. "It was worth a try."
"I…I guess it was." He wasn't quite sure what to say to that, but much to his surprise, George laughed.
"How much of that did you hear, son?"
"Most of it, I think," he replied. "How did you know?"
"I didn't until you confirmed it just now," the king replied, and then reached out to pat David on the shoulder. "You still have much to learn."
Trying not to gape open-mouthed, David just nodded. He did have much to learn about politics and warfare both, but it appeared that George was still willing to teach him. He would never be his brother, but they both seemed to accept that, and perhaps they could really keep moving forward from here. George didn't seem as bad these days. David was even starting to like him a little. Or respect him, anyway. I'm not sure how much I can like someone who is willing to play the game he just played with Cora, he thought honestly. David was a straightforward man, and the lies and deceit inherent in politics often left him uneasy. But George was good at that game, and at least George was on their side.
Heading towards Snow's tent, David decided to share that story with her. She'd appreciate knowing that Cora was desperate enough to proposition George. That meant that they were winning, and perhaps by winter they would be able to capture Snow's childhood home once and for all.
August spied on the pair miserably. How had it come to this? He was supposed to come through the wardrobe to watch over Emma, to help her break the curse when the time came, and yet here he was, spying for the Evil Queen. On Snow White and Prince Charming, the same royals to whom his beloved papa had raised him to be loyal to. And now he was working for their arch enemy.
He wasn't sure what made him feel worse: the fact that his body was slowly turning to wood again, or the fact that he'd betrayed all of his papa's beliefs to save him. But August couldn't figure out any other choice that he could have made. Working with the Evil Queen meant that she'd turn him back to human when she could, and it also kept Geppetto alive. August missed his father so much, and if she killed Geppetto…everything he'd done, everything he was, would be for nothing. He couldn't let that happen, no matter what he had to do. I'll save you, Papa. Just wait and see. He was sure that his father would understand in the end. This was his only choice.
He couldn't go to Blue about this, either. Even though he'd been to see her just a few days ago, telling her about how Emma was slow to believe and he was trying to help her where he could, he didn't dare tell Mother Superior about the fact that he was now acting as Cora's spy. The Evil Queen was too powerful—no one had to tell August that she'd had that reporter killed because he had angered her. He was good at seeing patterns, August was, and Sidney Glass' death was an easy one to spot. She wouldn't hesitate to do the same thing to a mere handyman, so August didn't say a word to Blue. Particularly since, if August's instincts were right, Cora was also behind what happened to Mr. Gold. That kind of beating certainly wasn't an experience August cared to acquire, and not one he'd let happen to his father, either. He couldn't afford to anger the Evil Queen. Besides, it wasn't as if he was doing anything harmful right now. All he'd done was not go spy on the people in the Basement for Emma, and now he was watching two people eat breakfast. That was all. It was nothing, right?
Mary Margaret and David weren't even doing anything interesting. They were only talking about Regina, although why they'd be concerned for the Dark Princess' happiness was beyond August. He remembered his papa telling him about how Princess Regina had covered for the Evil Queen, had fought for her mother, and had even poisoned Princess Snow on her behalf. Regina was bad news, and good people like the Charmings didn't need to worry about her. As far as August was concerned, she deserved to be miserable. Who cared if something was wrong with her? David was well rid of her, which he'd undoubtedly understand when the curse broke. August thought it was particularly sick of the Evil Queen to have married her daughter off to the husband of the woman she hated so much, but he supposed that was par for the course.
And if she could do that, punishing a mere carpenter would mean nothing to her.
August swallowed hard, and then went back to taking notes on what Mary Margaret and David were talking about. It wasn't his business, but Cora wanted to know, and he couldn't afford to defy her. Just break the curse, Emma, he begged silently. She'll lose her power then, and I'll be free. Then I can make up for everything I've done, and I will. I promise.
Belle didn't care how little sleep she'd gotten that night, and it turned out not to be much. She'd asked Marie and Dove to stay over in the house so that she could head to the hospital first thing, and they'd been downright wonderful about it. Renee was a little out of sorts that her mother was gone so often, but even at three, she seemed to understand a bit of how important this was. Belle was just glad that she was able to be there when Renee woke up that morning and for most of her daughter's breakfast, although she'd left the cleanup to Dove while she headed back to the hospital. Visiting hours started at eight sharp, and Belle planned to be there right away.
She walked through the doors at 8:01 and made it to Mr. Gold's private room by 8:03, stopping cold in the doorway as she evaluated her husband's condition. At first glance, not much seemed to have changed; his leg was still in traction and he was still bandaged and pale, but then Belle looked more closely. Pale or not, there was a lot more color in his face, and his eyes were clear as he smiled at her.
"Hey, sweetheart," Rumplestiltskin greeted her, and his voice sounded worlds better. He even sounded coherent.
"Hi," Belle said breathlessly, rushing to his side and taking the hand he extended to her. "Did it work? Are you healing?"
"Yes, and I am," he replied with another smile. "I even managed to…impede the flow of morphine." Belle followed his nod, glancing at the IV still in his arm and giving him a quizzical look. Rumplestiltskin continued: "Well, until I can get them to take me off of the meds, it has to go somewhere, so…I improvised. It's vanishing, for now, winding up in a garbage bin outside."
Despite herself, Belle giggled—but then a thought occurred to her. "How are we going to explain your sudden improvement?"
She hadn't thought of that last night in her hurry to bring magic so that Rumplestiltskin could heal himself, but now it seemed to be a huge obstacle. Obviously, no one in this cursed town was going to be willing to believe that magic had come and suddenly Mr. Gold was a sorcerer. They'd probably try to lock both of them up in the defunct asylum for saying such a thing, and Belle had no intention of ever going into that place. Besides, she'd let her husband get himself locked up once, and once was quite enough. They'd been separated for twenty-eight long years, and Belle wasn't letting that happen again.
"What improvement?" Rumplestiltskin countered with an innocent smile. "My charts, x-rays, and MRI results all say that the damage was not nearly as severe as everyone thought at first. A concussion, a few broken ribs, and a pair of breaks in the leg that are already healing properly…nothing to worry about."
"Whale will remember differently," Belle warned him. "You can't change his memories, can you?"
"Not without a powerful potion or six," he admitted, and then gave her a shrug. "But he'll believe the paperwork, sweetheart. He'll have no choice. The curse will help with that, too. For once."
"I'm just glad you're feeling better," she whispered, picking up his hand to kiss it. "I was so worried."
"I know. I'm sorry. I—"
"Stop it," Belle cut him off. "This is not your fault. This was my idiot father and the moron who he talked into helping him. And Cora. I blame them, Rumple, not you, so don't you even start apologizing."
Her silly husband actually blushed a little. "I love you," he said after a moment, looking abashed.
"I love you, too," Belle replied immediately, squeezing his hand. Then she bit her lip before asking: "Is your face…?"
"I'd love a kiss," Rumplestiltskin told her without missing a beat, and she could see his eyes shining a little. He'd read her mind, obviously, but he hadn't addressed the other worry that suddenly occurred to Belle.
"With magic…?" she trailed off.
"Let's find out," Rumplestiltskin whispered, and Belle did not need to be told twice. She leaned in and brushed her lips carefully against his, reveling in being close to this man who she loved so much. She didn't want to endanger his magic, because Belle did understand that he needed it, but she also needed him.
Her husband returned the kiss, at first gently and then a bit more insistently, and Belle felt his hand tighten in hers. They'd spoken of his fears last night when he'd been in far worse condition, and Belle knew that Rumplestiltskin needed her as much as she needed him. They were in this together, after all, and had been ever since she'd walked back into his castle because she loved him. Even when they stopped kissing, she didn't lean away, instead letting her forehead rest against his and smiling. She'd be able to bring him home soon, Belle knew, and then maybe the three of them could be all right again.
"My magic is just fine," he said softly, and Belle didn't even try to hold back her snort. Finally, she leaned back, sitting on the bed next to him and giving him a look.
"You knew that it would be."
Rumplestiltskin didn't even bother to look guilty. "Of course I did."
Well, Belle hadn't married the slyest man she'd ever met without knowing what he was, and she hadn't spent four years of marriage not kissing him without knowing that he'd never let her break his curse until he was good and ready to do so. Still, she was curious about how he'd managed to pull of having magic and kissing her. After all, it was researching that possibility that had caused one of their biggest fights, because she'd inadvertently found out about the dagger then. She'd never found an answer, either. Never found a way for them to kiss without Rumplestiltskin losing his magic.
"So, are you going to tell me how you've managed this?" she asked pointedly.
"Ah, it wasn't me. Magic is different here," he replied. "My curse is a creature of the Enchanted Forest. It can only be broken there, I think. Or perhaps I can just stop it from breaking in this world. Here…we can kiss all we like, and be just fine."
And that means you're trapped as the Dark One for as long as we are in this world, Belle didn't say, feeling a pang of pain for her husband's soul. She knew that he was used to his curse, that he didn't really know how to live without it, but she had always cherished hopes that she would be able to free him once he had completed his work and had found Baelfire. She loved him the way he was, of course, but now that option was gone, and thinking of that made her a little sad. Yet…there were certain advantages to this world, even if she would miss the old scales. And the leather pants. I'll particularly miss his leather pants.
Perhaps Belle could get him to wear them around the house sometime. Her favorite pair had come across in the chest, after all, and she was willing to bet that she could talk Rumple into that. It probably wouldn't even be too hard. That thought made her smile, and lean down to kiss him gently once more, making the kiss a promise of more to come.
"I can live with that," Belle told her husband, and he smiled.
A/N: Up next is Chapter 51: "Rebellions", in which August spies on Emma for Cora, Whale tries to puzzle out Mr. Gold's condition, Regina gathers her courage to defy her mother, and Nurse Zephyr makes an interesting phone call. Back in the past, the war to take back the kingdom ends, and Cora is captured.
In the meantime, please let me know what you think! The sneak peek for the next chapter will be up on tumblr Wednesday or Thursday.