Chapter Fifty-Seven—"Leaking Through"

Don't think of Mirabella, Killian told himself firmly, knocking on the door of the loft that Swan shared with the schoolteacher-turned-waitress. He knew for a fact that Mary Margaret was working at Granny's right now, so this was the time to act. He really did like Emma, after all, and it wasn't like he'd ever really had a relationship with the woman who was still locked in the Basement. The fact that Emma reminded him of Mirabella didn't factor into his desire for the sheriff at all, and besides, seducing Emma would get Cora off his back. He needed that, particularly because Killian Jones was no fool. The curse would break before too long, and he needed to be in either Emma's or Cora's good graces when it did. Preferably both, if he could pull that off. Fortunately, seducing Emma now gave him choices when the curse ended, and that was exactly what he wanted.

The door opened, and the Savior looked at him in surprise.

"Killian," she said slowly, blinking. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought I might tempt you out for a dinner date that isn't interrupted by murder," he replied, giving her his most charming smile. "I would have brought flowers, but, as you know…the flower shop is a bit out of commission."

That made her snort; he always had admired Swan's sometimes morbid sense of humor. "Yeah, I can't imagine why."

"Will chocolates do instead?" he asked, offering her up the best collection of chocolates that he'd been able to find at the store. Valentine's Day was approaching, which meant that the romantic gesture had been easy to make. Not for the first time, Killian was grateful for this world's little traditions; they made seducing a woman so much easier. He'd only had chocolate a time or two back home, despite having lived over three centuries. It had been prohibitively expensive and halfway to impossible to find, but here it was plentiful. And delicious.

"Thank you," Emma said with a smile, and he knew he had her. Oh, the seduction would be slow, but he had her now.

"So…about that dinner?"

"I'm sorry." Something flickered across her face. "I promised Henry that I'd take him out tonight so that Regina…well, it doesn't matter. But I already have a date with Henry."

Damn. Well, he couldn't expect to take her child's place in her heart, and trying to get a date on short notice was always rather foolish. So, Killian smiled. "I'd never try to get between a mother and child," he reassured her, half wishing that he could earn himself an invitation to that dinner—because that would have meant that Emma was definitely leaning his direction—but rather glad he had not. "May I request a rain check, then?"

"Um. Probably?" Emma shrugged a little. "I'm just so busy right now, between Moe and Tony being in jail, poor Marco getting beaten up, Sidney's murder going unsolved, and this entire mess with the Basement that seems to be getting nowhere. Both my deputies seem more interested in drinking than they do helping, and the mayor barks at me every chance she gets. I just don't think I'm going to have much chance for a social life anytime soon."

"Perhaps a breath of fresh air is just what you need."

"Maybe. But I'm not sure when I'm going to get one," she admitted. "It's not that I'm not grateful for the offer, because I am, but I've got to be the sheriff first, y'know?"

"Of course," Killian said, even if he wanted to throttle Cora for making so much happen at once. Three of the four issues Emma mentioned were directly the mayor's doing, and blaming the Basement's existence on her was easy, too. Unfortunately, the mayor's antics were now getting in the way of the relationship that Cora wanted him to build, but Killian wasn't dumb enough to tell her majesty that one. Not if he wanted to keep himself one piece, and keep the extra hand she'd given him.

There's magic here now, mate, he reminded himself. Cora can just take it back, perhaps give it back to whatever bloke she took it from in the first place. He'd never asked, but twenty-eight years with two hands had let him remember how good it was not to wear a damn hook all over the place. Of all the things Cora could do to him, losing the second hand could possibly be the worst.

"I'll just be going, then," he replied, resolutely not asking her why he'd seen her with Graham just the day before. It had to be police work, right? Cora had assured him that the former sheriff was out of the picture. "Enjoy the chocolates."

"I will, and thank you," Emma said, and she sounded sincere.

Still, the thought of her with Graham—he'd never tolerated competition well—made Killian want to go find someone else and bury himself in a woman's sweet embrace. At first, he thought of going to Granny's and asking the leggy wolf girl to accompany him to the Rabbit Hole, and then he contemplated finding Cora's newly awakened daughter and seeing if her red hair was natural after all. But that was sheer stupidity; Killian knew what Cora had done to Regina's inappropriate love, which meant that even having Zelena fall head over heels for him would provide no measure of safety. She was an attractive woman, if one managed to forget the ugly green skin back in their world, but no. The idea of seducing her was beyond foolish.

Still, he did not mean for his feet to take him to the Basement, or for his traitorous lips to ask Madam Merryweather if Mirabella was available for the evening.

5 Months Before the Curse

Perhaps wandering around the Evil Queen's castle whilst she was in exile was not the best of ideas, even if the halls were crowded with mercenaries in dire need of lessons in personal hygiene. He was a pirate, not a soldier, and too long on dry land left him restless, despite the handsome retainer Cora had paid him for his services. Still, he should have known that opening closed doors was dangerous. Yet, had he not done so, Killian never would have discovered a petite green fairy stuck inside a glass jar.

"What are you doing in there?" he asked curiously, bending to inspect the fairy, who was sitting on top of what looked like a spool of thread and pouting. She didn't respond immediately, so he tapped his hook against the glass impatiently.

"I heard you," she snapped, jumping to her feet and glaring up at him. "I just didn't care about answering you."

"What, do you have so many companions in there that you can't spare a moment to converse with a lonely pirate?" Killian countered, enjoying himself immensely. He'd never met a fairy before, and hadn't realized they were so small.

"Very funny."

Crouching down to her level, he couldn't resist asking: "Do fairies usually live in glass jars?"

"Of course not! Are pirates usually idiots?" the little green woman—who had great legs, even if they were a bit, well, tiny for his tastes—retorted. Killian felt a grin growing on his face.

"Most of them are, love, but that's why I always beat them."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, you don't have an ego at all. What's your name, anyway, pirate?"

"Captain Killian Jones, at your service," he replied, offering her as much of a bow as he could from his crouch. "You may have heard of me as Captain Hook."

"Not really, no. But I didn't get out much," she admitted, and then sat back down with a sigh. "I'm Tinker Bell."

"Don't fairies usually go by their colors?" he wondered. Killian had heard that somewhere, maybe from Smee? He couldn't recall, but he knew that the most powerful fairy was the Blue Fairy, which meant that the others probably did that, too.

"I'm not a common fairy," Tinker Bell snapped, but there was something defeated and defensive in the way she spoke the words.

"I don't expect you are," he said as gallantly as he could, admiring the tiny woman's sass and spunk if nothing else. "But how did you wind up in a glass jar in Queen Cora's castle?"

Her face fell. "I tried to help Regina free her True Love."

"Cora's daughter?"

"Yes." The small fairy brought her knees up towards her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "It didn't work out so well, and I've been here ever since."

"In a glass jar?" That was rough, even for Cora.

"You could help me escape, you know," Tinker Bell told him bluntly. "I am a fairy, and I can help you if you are brave enough to help me. No one in our order knows where I am, but if you let me out of this jar—and help me find my wand—I'll be able to help you. You could even be a hero, instead of a pirate."

Listening to her say that made Killian laugh, even if the thought of doing something he could be proud of was actually a little bit tempting. But just a little bit. You've got too much canvas up for that, mate, and you're running before one hell of a storm. Don't look back or the tempest will find and sink you. "I'm no hero, love," he replied as lightly as he could. "I chose my side in this war, and it's with Queen Cora."

"She's only using you," the fairy pointed out. "She uses everyone. I've been in this jar for nine months, watching her manipulate and use people. No one matters to her, not even her daughters."

"Ah, but I'm using her as much as she's using me," Killian replied, wishing he could be as certain of that as he sounded. "We both have things the other wants. We have an accord."

"Don't count on it sticking. She'll get rid of you the moment you aren't useful."

"And I'll leave here the moment allying with her doesn't serve my purposes," he said as casually as he could, ignoring the gnawing feeling of doubt. "Cora and I both know what the other is. There's no love between us."

"Have it your way," Tinker Bell replied with a shrug, but Killian could see the way her hopes had been dashed and actually felt a little guilty.

"Don't take it personally," he said as gently as he could. "I just can't endanger my business relationship with Her Majesty by freeing you. I'm sorry."

"Of course you are," she said glumly, turning away from him. Killian didn't try to prolong the conversation; it had been entertaining, but he was no hero to rescue a fairy in distress. He was a pirate, and a villain, and he was tired of having the heroes win. No, he was here to turn the tables on them, not become one of them.

Years later, he'd realize that although he'd never recognized Mirabella when she was human-sized, her favorite color had always been green.

August really was starting to hate the convent. Of course, he knew that Blue meant well, but he was beginning to feel like the puppet he had once been, and not because he was turning to wood. Cora was still pulling his strings ruthlessly, demanding he find out this and that, and subtly threatening his father should he not comply. Or not so subtly, as the case may be, August thought grouchily. Worse yet, Blue was now getting into the game, reminding him constantly that he had to protect Emma and keep her away from the Dark Princess.

"You try keeping the two of them apart!" he finally snapped, gesturing angrily with both hands. "They share a kid, and Henry keeps bringing them together. And now even Snow White is spending time with Regina!"

"Dear Snow has always had a blind spot for her stepsister," the chief of the fairies replied sadly, and August didn't bother to bite back his groan.

"You never managed to keep them apart," he grumbled. "Don't expect me to succeed where you failed, particularly when Regina has magic."

Blue's eyes narrowed, but at least she finally stopped pressing. August was even relieved until she turned to her next topic. "You have a good point. Clearly, more drastic measures are required."

"Like what?" he asked warily, every instinct on guard.

"You've learned Baelfire's story, yes?" Blue questioned him, and August's heart sank. Blue had told him that sad tale more than once, and it made him feel even more guilty for playing on Neal's fears the way he had. I think he really did love her, August reflected, remembering the way Neal had been determined to go back to Emma, despite his own past, right up until August told him that he'd already called the police and gotten her arrested. Only then had Neal's fears won out…and because of August, Neal's son had grown up without either of his natural parents.

I know how that is, he thought sadly. My papa was the center of my world until he had to send me away. Henry's a good kid, and he deserves better than what I did to his parents.

"I have," he replied cautiously.

"Good. It so happens that…Mr. Gold is rather desperate to find his long lost son," she said serenely, folding her hands on the desk in front of her. "And I know that what I ask of you is hard, but I need you to impersonate Baelfire long enough to get the dagger from him."

"Wait." August blinked hard. "You mean Gold is Rumplestiltskin?"

He had known that Rumplestiltskin was awake, courtesy of Cora, but the idea that the recently-beaten pawnbroker could be the Dark One was staggering.

Blue grimaced. "Unfortunately."

"And you want me to lie to the Dark One," he said, staring at his longtime benefactor, at the fairy who had made him into a real boy. He'd never be able to repay that, which was why he hadn't begged her to stop his irrevocable slide into becoming wood again. Long ago, Blue had told Pinocchio what he needed to do in order to stay human, and he'd strayed from that. He had no right to ask her for a second chance; he had to earn it.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures, Pinocchio," she said quietly.

"My name is August."

"August, then. Can you do this?" Blue pressed, her voice gentle but serious.

Gulping, August could only stare at her. Did she have any idea how dangerous trying to pull one over Rumplestiltskin would be? Of course she did. But it wasn't Blue's neck on the line; it would be his. Yet August owed her too much. He couldn't say no. And when I have the dagger, I can make him turn me human again, he thought, desperation lending hope to his decisions. Then I can help Emma break the curse, and I'll finally live up to being 'selfless, brave, and true.'

This world was an ugly place, August decided, nodding. Sometimes even heroes had to do ugly things.

Watching Rumplestiltskin move without pain was a feeling Belle thought she would relish for the rest of her life. She would never forget how small and broken he'd looked lying in the hospital bed, how close she'd come to losing him forever. Every day with him after that was a treasure, and if bringing magic to Storybrooke had been the price to pay for his life, Belle was prepared to pay it. She'd hoped so very much that keeping magic away from Storybrooke would at least somewhat free Rumplestiltskin of the darkness that lived inside of him, but she preferred her husband alive, curse and all, to the alternative. The very idea of living without him was painful. She had no idea how Lacey had done it, loving Gold but not living with him, knowing that she would do anything for him and yet never quite sure that he would do the same. That insecurity had been the Dark Curse talking, of course; Belle herself knew better. Her husband was difficult and sometimes had a hard time opening up, but she knew he loved her. And she knew that he would try to be better for her sake, even if he didn't always manage.

When she got down to it, that was the best she could ask from the Dark One. Someday, however, Belle hoped that they could find Baelfire and then Rumplestiltskin could put the power down. She knew that would be hard for him—particularly after what Cora had done—but she hoped that someday he would be able to manage. And if he doesn't, I'll love him the same, Belle thought to herself, crossing their bedroom to crouch next to him. Rumplestiltskin was kneeling in front of the chest that they had brought over from the Enchanted Forest, the one that had contained their True Love potion and other precious items. Now, however, he was holding a ring that she only somewhat recognized, threading it through a slender strand of gold.

"Is that your gold?" she asked, wondering when he'd spun it.

Rumplestiltskin smiled slightly. "Of course. It's far easier to enchant gold I've made than some random necklace from a store. Particularly since I have no desire to patronize a store owned by Tony Rose."

She could see the way the wry humor in his expression masked his still-simmering rage, so Belle just squeezed his arm and chose to smile back. "The choices of jewelry stores are rather limited here," she replied lightly. "Everyone has to buy from your shop or Tony."

"That they are."

"I recognize the ring, but I don't remember what it is," she admitted when her husband failed to volunteer any information.

"I got it in a deal," he said, and although Belle noticed that he was careful not to mention whom that deal had been with, she let it pass. "It's the ring of Sir Perceval of Galles. It's over a thousand years old, and capable of protecting someone against any magic and any danger."

"Like the ring you made for me," Belle smiled, feeling warm as she touched her wedding ring. It was still on her right hand, where Lacey had always (unknowingly) worn it, but at least she knew what it was, now.

"More powerful," her husband answered, and magic sparked out of his fingers, creating a clasp at the ends of the golden thread. "Renee can't wear it as a ring, but I think she can manage a necklace. Do you?"

Belle bit her lip before she could stop herself. "I thought your pleases would keep Cora from harming us."

"They should, but I'm not planning on taking chances, sweetheart."

Given the power that Cora still had over them all, Belle could only agree with Rumplestiltskin. So, she just shifted close to him and wrapped an arm around his neck, nestling her head against his left shoulder. Immediately, she felt his arm wrap around her in return, and Belle snuggled against her husband, savoring the strength in him now that he was healed.

"I love you, Rumple," she whispered, her voice muffled a little by his shoulder.

"And I love you," he replied, and Belle felt lips touch the top of her head. They stayed together in silence for several long moments before she felt him shifting uncomfortably

"Is your leg still bothering you?" She asked, pulling back and helping Rumplestiltskin to his feet. The way he winced answered her question, and Belle couldn't help cringing. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right," he said, hobbling for a moment before the magical brace took hold. "For the most part, the leg is better. It just cramps up more often than it should."

"Will that wear off in time?"

"Probably. Even if it doesn't, it's better than it's been since, well, forever." Was it her imagination, or did her husband look a little torn between shame and embarrassment? Cocking her head at him, Belle reached out to take Rumplestiltskin's hands.

"I'm glad I brought magic," she told him, remembering their arguments about it back home. "And not just because it saved you. I'm glad you can walk without pain, too."

Belle had been horrified to realize that being in the Land Without Magic had returned that limp to Rumplestiltskin. She had never learned as much about his past as she wanted to, because he hated sharing it so much, but she knew enough to know that Rumplestiltskin still despised that part of himself. Someday, he would tell her why he hated what he'd called the best version of himself, but until then, Belle would have to live with the fact that there were things about her husband she did not understand. Love was a mystery, after all, and where would the fun be if she already knew everything?

"You are?" he asked, sounding so uncertain.

"Of course I am, silly." Belle leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, and then shifted to wrap her arms around his waist. "You look so much more alive, now."

"Do I?"

"Magic is a part of you, Rumple. I know that. I just wish that it didn't come with the darkness that eats at your soul."

A moment of silence passed, and Belle felt him tighten his hold on her. "Me, too, sweetheart. Me, too."

"What the hell?" Regina muttered, watching the pair in the mirror. She'd wanted to spy on Lacey French to figure out what the hell was going on, but here she'd just watched Lacey call Gold 'Rumple', and talk about magic, referencing his curse. What had the idiot told the girl?

They were in such big trouble. This was not the time for Rumplestiltskin to go all love struck and stupid! And for a girl that had been his maid, no less! What the hell did he think was going to happen when Lacey woke up, that she'd stick with this relationship because he'd been kind to her here in Storybrooke? There was no way that the girl was going to forget what he'd been back home, or what he'd looked like there. Regina had no problems with Rumplestiltskin in all of his Dark One glory, but she'd known him for most of her life. Lacey, or whoever Lacey really was, would not be so understanding.

A heartbroken Rumplestiltskin was not someone Regina was prepared to deal with. It was not her job to pick up the pieces if he fell apart, but how the hell was she supposed to stop this? She wasn't sure he could properly love, but she knew he'd had feelings for her mother, once. And Mother dropped him like a rock to marry Daddy for power, she remembered, waving a hand and wiping the nauseatingly cute image out of the mirror's glass. The last thing I want to deal with is him getting rejected again. Regina had no idea what had happened after her mother broke off their relationship, but she could imagine that it had not been pretty.

But there was no one else to deal with this mess, so somehow this had just become her problem.

"Damn you," she whispered, flicking a finger at the mirror again to bring up the annoying pair. Hopefully she could spy on Lacey alone soon, and figure out what the girl's game was. There was no way Cora had cursed Lacey to be in love with Gold, which meant something had to be happening. "How are you so stupid that you can't see what's happening?"

"Who are you talking to, Mom?" a voice interrupted her, and Regina jumped. When she turned, however, it was only her son.

"Watching an old friend make very bad choices," she grumbled before she could stop herself.

Now, Rumple was even kissing his damn maid, kissing her with the kind of familiarity that Regina could only wish she could share with Errol. Watching them made Regina burn with both envy and annoyance. Rumple was around ten times her age. Surely he knew better than this! And even if he doesn't, why does he get to be happy with someone when I lose my True Love? Then when I find someone new, I'm too terrified to tell him how I feel because I'm afraid Mother will kill him, too, she thought brokenly, hating herself just a little for being angry at her old friend. Rumple hadn't forced her mother's hand, after all. Cora had never needed a reason to hurt Daniel.

"How's that a bad choice?" Henry asked curiously. "I mean, Mr. Gold is the Beast and Lacey is Belle. They're supposed to be together."

"Henry…" Regina trailed off, trying to figure out how to say this without telling her beloved son that her best friend was the Dark One. He's enamored of heroes. He won't take that well at all. "Mr. Gold isn't the Beast. Trust me. I know him too well to think that."

"Just because no one called him that back in your world doesn't mean he isn't," her ten year old pointed out far too logically.

Except people had, hadn't they? Surprise made Regina stop in her tracks and look at the pair again, just in time to see them walk hand in hand out of what she assumed was Gold's bedroom and away from the view of the mirror. She didn't bother to find another mirror to track them; Rumple would catch on if she tried this trick too often, and she'd seen enough. People had called Rumplestiltskin a beast, and plenty of other things besides. Could he also be the Beast? Could he genuinely have fallen in love with his maid, as he'd admitted she was, and she with him?

"What exactly happens between Beauty and the Beast in your book, sweetie?" she asked curiously, and sat down to listen as Henry told her a story of True Love found and curses almost broken.

"…'Night, Papa," the three year old muttered as Rumplestiltskin closed the book that night. She was wearing the necklace he'd made for her and snuggled up in her blankets; just looking at her made Rumplestiltskin smile. Too busy kissing his little girl on the forehead, he didn't notice what she'd called him—because it was what Gabrielle was supposed to call him—until Belle spoke once they were outside Renee's room.

"I think Gabrielle is starting to break through," his wife said softly, holding his hand in her own.

"What?" Rumplestiltskin blinked like a fool, turning to stare at the door he had just (mostly) shut.

"The curse is weaker than ever, right?" Belle asked, and Rumplestiltskin wanted to smack himself for not thinking of it sooner.

"And she's a child of True Love," he finished the thought Belle had started. "Inherently magical, particularly with the life she's led. Yes, it's possible. I just didn't expect…"

"She loves you in both worlds, Rumple." The reassuring words made him turn his head. How could Belle almost read his mind like this? "She's not going to be confused when she wakes up. Not about you, anyway."

"How do you know me so well?" he asked before he could stop himself, stepping forward—without the use of a cane!—to wrap his arms around the wonderful woman who had somehow agreed to become his wife. Burying his nose in her hair, Rumplestiltskin almost didn't care what she said in response; Belle was there, he was home, and the pain was almost gone. More importantly, he had magic with which to protect his family, and he would make sure that Cora never hurt any of them again.

"Years of experience," she replied with a small giggle. "Though you weren't easy at first, I assure you."

"Well, good," he retorted. "I never meant to be easy, m'dear."

Belle just snorted, and he held her tightly. They'd have to watch Renee, of course, and make sure that Gabrielle didn't emerge at an inopportune moment and uncover truths best left away from Storybrooke's more curious ears, but they could do that. What mattered most was that they could be a family again, and that maybe, just maybe, Rumplestiltskin could remember what it was like not to be afraid. He didn't think Cora was foolish enough to try to hurt him when he had magic, after all. Even once her own returned, he was the Dark One, and Cora was just a sorceress. She was powerful, yes, but in a stand-up fight, Cora would always lose. They both knew that.

Yet that night he still shook and cried his way through nightmares in his wife's arms, trying to bury himself in Belle, in feeling until the horrors vanished under a haze of pleasure. He'd been able to heal the physical wounds Cora had left behind, but the emotional scars remained, threatening to drag him into a deep abyss where he tried desperately to shield his soul and let no one in. It was a good thing, Rumplestiltskin reflected while staring at the ceiling after another nightmare, that he had already been married to Belle before Cora had started treating him like that. Otherwise, he might never have let her know what was happening, or how damaged he was. He knew himself, after all, and knew how hard he found opening up to be.

Fortunately, Lacey had known, so Belle had already known, and she wasn't going to accept any excuses from him. And somehow, he managed to find a little healing in her arms, a little peace he never would have found otherwise.

The redhead who sauntered into the sheriff's office the next morning was vaguely familiar, but for the life of her, Emma couldn't remember why. But she sure walked like she owned the place.

"Can I help you?" Emma asked warily, glancing up from the antiquated computer on her desk. She hadn't been expecting anyone to drop by today, but any distraction from Moe French and Tony Rose's complaining had to be worthwhile, didn't it?

"My name is Chloe Zephyr," the newcomer cooed, coifed in a dressy dark blue suit that probably cost as much as Emma's monthly paycheck. "I'm Storybrooke's new chief administrative officer."

"You've got Regina's job." Emma hadn't meant for that to come out quite so hostilely, but she was a bit surprised to see Zephyr show up. Recognition was still tugging at the edge of her memory, but Emma couldn't figure out why, so she pushed the thought aside.

"Regina Nolan proved herself unworthy. I won't," Zephyr replied, and suddenly Emma found herself blinking.

"Weren't you a nurse last week?" she asked.

The redhead huffed. "Of course not."

"I could have sworn that you worked at the hospital," the sheriff replied slowly, remembering the too-sweet nurse that had hung around Gold's room like a bad smell.

"Your memory must be deficient," Zephyr snapped, looking around the station with a critical eye. Emma really didn't like the other woman's officious manner, either, and she found herself coming to her feet slowly.

"Not usually, no." And her internal lie detector was telling her that Zephyr wasn't telling the truth, too, which only put Emma more on edge.

"Well, then perhaps Storybrooke needs a more contentious sheriff," was the snide reply. "I'll be sure to speak to the mayor about that."

Unable to help herself, Emma laughed. "You do that. Look, she's been trying to fire me since I was elected, and you're gonna have no better chance of doing that than she has. So, unless there's something I can help you with, why don't you leave me to my work and go tell someone else how important you are?"

Later, Emma would learn that snapping at "Chloe Zephyr" like that was a bad idea, but right then and there, it felt pretty nice.

Henry had decided that he was the best chaperone that he could give his grandparents. After all, no one looked twice if David went somewhere with his son, and Henry had started asking Mary Margaret for help with his homework while she was working at Granny's. He didn't really need the help, but it gave her an excuse to come to the house, which was always a good thing. He wasn't going to let his adopted Grandmother keep Snow White and Prince Charming apart if he could help it, and so far, his plans had been working out great.

He'd even managed to convince the two of them to take a walk after borrowing Pongo from Archie. Archie had been remarkably kind about it, winking at Henry when he tried to innocently say that he just wanted to walk around town with his Dad and his favorite (former) teacher. But Henry knew that Archie wouldn't spread rumors, and even if he did, Henry was certain that the curse was going to be broken soon. He just knew it. Emma was starting to really believe in magic, and all that was left was to figure out how they were going to get the curse broken. In the beginning, Henry had though that sheer belief would do it, but now he wasn't so sure. But Emma would think of something. He knew it. She was smart and resourceful, and she was going to bring back everyone's happy endings.

"What's that?" he asked before he could stop himself, breaking his internal promise not to interrupt David and Mary Margaret's conversation. But when Pongo had decided to sniff the mailbox in front of the big green house, Henry had gotten bored waiting for him and started to look around.

"What's what, Henry?" David asked immediately. Even if he was actually his grandfather, David was a great dad. Henry knew that the Evil Queen had meant to punish both Charming and Regina by marrying them to each other, but he was still glad that they were his parents.

"That house," he said, pointing. "It's new."

"What do you mean, new?" his grandfather asked just as his grandmother said:

"It's rude to point, Henry. Someone might be home."

"If they are, I want to know who they are," he told her earnestly, and was disappointed to see that Mary Margaret was winning at the moment. If Snow had been there, she would have been curious too, Henry was sure. "Because that house wasn't there last week."

He couldn't remember the last time he'd walked down this street, so saying that it hadn't been there last week was safer. Henry was certain that the house was new, though, even if his estimation of a week was off. So, he studied it carefully, looking at the pale green mansion. It had a brown door and brown shutters, with a wishing well in the front yard and a bunch of flowers closer to the house. Were those poppies? If so, he knew exactly who had to live there.

"Of course it was. Chloe Zephyr lives there," David replied immediately. "She's always lived there."

That made him frown. "Who's Chloe Zephyr?"

"Your grandmother's new assistant, of course. She's been away from Storybrooke for some time, but she's always owned the house," his adopted father told him, and Henry scowled.

"No, she hasn't. This used to be an empty lot. That's just the curse telling you that it was always here!"

David sighed. "Henry, I know you believe we're all cursed, and I can't argue with you about some parts of that, but magic can't make houses appear."

"Yes, it can," he replied. "It just did!"

"Why don't we go check the city records? If you're right, surely something will be there." Mary Margaret said soothingly.

"Not with the curse doing its work," he grumbled, stuffing his free hand into his pocket. "C'mon, Pongo. They're not gonna believe us, so we might as well keep walking."

Sometimes, he thought the Dalmatian was the only one who believed him wholeheartedly. Besides Regina, anyway. Pongo, at least, probably remembered everything and always had. Why would Cora have wiped out a dog's memories, anyway? Moments like this really made him wish that Pongo could talk.

"Curses can't do that, Henry," David tried again.

"This one can." But arguing with someone cursed would get him nowhere, so Henry made himself shrug. "Don't worry about it. I'll talk to Mom about it. And Emma."

At least they weren't cursed. Something was wrong, and Henry was smart enough to know where poppies lived in the stories. Poppies were from Oz, and 'zephyr' had something to do with the west. That meant the Wicked Witch of the West was somewhere in town, and even if she wasn't in his book, flying monkeys were. And that meant they were in trouble.

5 Months Before the Curse

George had insisted on caution this time, waiting until Snow was four months along and showing before announcing she was pregnant. He'd even gone so far as to make a deal with Rumplestiltskin for their family's protection, and although Snow had no idea what George had offered, she knew that Regina had helped. Snow had desperately wanted to keep her sister with her after the failed execution—Cora had been willing to let Regina die, after all!—but Regina had chosen to return to the castle Cora kept while in exile, saying that she could protect both Daniel and Snow better that way.

In the end, that decision saved the life of Snow's unborn daughter…but when Cora burst in on the celebration, everything seemed lost.

A wave of fire preceded the Evil Queen, sending courtiers and nobles screaming from the room. Or trying to flee, anyway; the doors slammed shut as people dove out of Cora's path, scrambling to be anywhere but in her way. But what made Snow's heart sink, even as she refused to let Charming shove her behind him—pregnant or not, she was no wilting flower of a princess—was seeing Regina there with Cora. I know she has no choice, but it kills me to see Cora use her like this, Snow thought, grabbing a sword from a nearby guard who didn't seem to know what to do with it. Charming had his in hand already, and George had also stepped forward.

"You're not welcome here, Cora," the king snapped, and Snow could hear no fear in his voice.

"What, I am not permitted to congratulate my stepdaughter on this happy day?" the Evil Queen purred, stopping with her hands held away from her body. Regina halted a few steps behind her, but she looked as miserable as she did deadly.

"The last time you came offering congratulations, you tried to kill Snow," Charming spoke up, and Cora laughed.

"Well, you can't blame me for trying now, can you?"

"You killed our son!" Snow snarled before she could stop herself, stepping forward. She was almost shaking in rage, thinking of little Leo and the life he would have had if Cora had not stolen it away with her magic and her poisons.

"Of course I did, dear," her stepmother smiled. "And I'll destroy this child of yours, too."

Her hands came up before anyone could stop her—and those who tried ran afoul of Regina's magic, which forced them away, and even forced Charming and George aside, both of whom tried to shield her. But Snow had known this was coming, had been warned by her sister, so she stood her ground with her head held high. Cora's spell, blood-red and deadly, zoomed in on her, howling mercilessly and making the room freezing cold. It moved like small waves made of shattered glass, twisting and rending and ready to tear her and her unborn child to pieces.

And then it stopped. Just inches away from Snow's face, it stopped. After a moment, it collapsed, disappearing as if sucked into an invisible vortex. Once it did, there was nothing left of the deadly spell, only still air and a very surprised Evil Queen. Meanwhile, Snow tried not to show her relief. She had known it would stop, but it was still nice to see the protections work.

"What is this?" Cora snarled, her voice low and deadly.

"You can't harm me, Cora," Snow replied, squaring her shoulders and taking a step forward. "It's over. Go back to your exile, and leave us in peace."

Rage contorted her stepmother's pretty face, and she tried again. This spell was as black as Cora's missing heart, full of fangs and sharp edges, roaring at Snow like it would tear her apart. But it, too, dissipated into nothing only inches away from its intended victim. Tellingly, Cora was too smart to try a third time.

"You may have won today, but this is not over," the Evil Queen promised, her fury retreating beneath cold calculation. "I will give you this happy day, but do not expect it to last. I will destroy your happiness. Forever."

She and Regina vanished in a sweeping swirl of purple smoke, and Snow finally let out the breath she was holding, placing a hand on her belly to feel her child inside. Charming immediately moved to embrace her, and she let her head rest on his broad chest, just for a moment. Today they were safe.

But what about tomorrow?

"We've got a problem," Henry announced, walking into the sheriff's station about an hour after Zephyr left. Which was about ten minutes after Emma had finished her spat with Moe and Tony's new lawyer, Conrad Rivulet, who seemed to think that Gold's testimony should be thrown out because of the matter of Lacey French. Emma had threatened to call Judge Cole on him, which had made the oily lawyer leave, but Emma was sure he wouldn't stay gone for long. He was the kind of smooth-talking, olive-skinned and handsome man who Emma would have usually pegged as a very successful used car salesman, but unfortunately, that type seemed to be lawyers in Storybrooke.

"Only one?" she asked, sighing and gesturing for him to close the door to her office so that she didn't have to listen to Tony whine about being hungry. Again. She wasn't sure her budget was going to survive feeding that guy for much longer.

"Yeah. There's a new house in town. It's owned by some rich widow named Chloe Zephyr, and Dad and Mary Margaret are convinced it's always been there, but it hasn't."

"Wait, you said a new house?" Emma asked before she could stop herself. "The curse can do that?"

"Yeah, I think so." Henry grimaced. "And that means that the curse isn't weakening as much as we need it to be, too."

"We'll get there, kid," she promised, and then the name he'd mentioned clicked. "Did you say Chloe Zephyr?"

The ten year old nodded. "I think she's the Wicked Witch of the West."

"Well, she definitely wasn't green when she was in here just now."

"She was here? What did she want?"

"I think she just wanted to tell me how important she was. She's got your mom's old job," Emma explained, and then cocked her head at Henry. It was one thing to believe in the curse, but… "Hold on. Isn't The Wizard of Oz fiction, not a fairy tale?"

"I think the lines get kind of blurred," was the kid's response, and Emma could only sigh. Great. Just what I need. Some witch who's probably going to go on about her beautiful wickedness, she thought. Who's next, Dorothy? The Wizard?

"So, speaking of The Wizard of Oz, do you know who Conrad Rivulet is?" she asked, and then smiled. "I bet he's the Wizard. He seems slimy enough to be lying about his powers."

"The lawyer?"

"Yeah. He's representing those two." She jerked a thumb at her current guests, and Henry started flipping through the Book. After a moment, he looked up, and his expression was grim.

"He's in here, so he's not the Wizard," her son replied, his eyes worried. "He's Jafar."

A/N: Virtual cookies to anyone who can guess the geniuses of Jafar's cursed name!

Next up: Chapter Fifty-Eight—" This Day Which Might Inflame," in which Valentine's Day hits Storybrooke! On that special day, Rumplestiltskin and Renee prepare a surprise for Belle, Hook tries for another date with Emma, Belle pays August a visit, Regina, Errol, David, and Mary Margaret do another double date, and August finally cracks. Back in the past, Cora demands to know why she can't harm Snow White, and Rumplestiltskin and Belle talk about Baelfire.

While you're waiting, please do let me know what you think!