Chapter Sixty-One—"Deals and Denials"

"It's just a drawing," Regina said with a shrug, and Henry peered at his mother curiously. That wasn't the reaction he'd expected; he knew that Regina appreciated how important this mere 'drawing' was. She was the daughter of the Evil Queen, and the Book said that she'd learned from Rumplestiltskin himself! She had to know how dangerous the Dark One was, and her response was that this was 'only a picture'? he couldn't help it; his jaw dropped and he just stared at Regina.

"I took a look at Henry's book," Emma spoke up before he could say anything. "It's maddeningly vague where this 'Dark One' is concerned, but it really does seem like he's a pretty dangerous guy. And apparently this dagger is the only way he can be killed."

"I've heard of it," Regina replied vaguely, and but then she shrugged gain. "But I'm not sure why you're asking me."

Henry's instincts were lighting off, screaming warnings in his ears, and that made him shut his mouth and scowl. "If the Dark One got out of the cage Grandpa put him in, and he's here in Storybrooke, he's really dangerous," he pointed out, trying not to sound like a worrywart, but knowing that what he said was true. "He's unpredictable, isn't he, Mom? No one ever knows what side he's on, and he only does what he wants to."

"Rumplestiltskin is unpredictable," she agreed slowly. "But he's not particularly fond of my mother. Even if he is here, we have far bigger problems to worry about."

"I thought he liked Grandmother," Henry objected, remembering the few scenes in the Book between the Evil Queen and the Dark One. Their recorded encounters had been riddled with darkness and power plays, and although Henry knew which one of them was the bigger villain, he wasn't sure at all that the Dark One wasn't playing his own game.

Regina, however, snorted. "About as much as you enjoyed having the chicken pox," she laughed, and Henry started to wonder how much she really knew her old teacher. He knew that Cora had taught her, too, and knew that Regina had always struggled against darkness. Did she only see what she wanted to see, or was she right?

"Is he here?" Emma pressed. "Ru—"

"Don't say his name!" Henry cut her off frantically. "He can hear it if you say his name! There's magic here now, remember?"

"Only if he remembers, right?"

Henry fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Why wouldn't he?"

"Rumplestiltskin," Regina said, looking at the pair with annoyance. "Looked very different back home. There's at least one illustration in your Book to show you that, Henry. So, good luck figuring out who he is here."

Now that was a challenge that Henry could accept. Maybe Regina was afraid of finding out who Rumplestiltskin was here in Storybrooke, but he wasn't. There had to be clues in the Book. Yes, he'd looked different, but all of the answers were in the storybook. He just had to look hard enough. Then he'd be able to protect his mom from whatever she was worried about. Hopefully, they'd identify Rumplestiltskin before the Dark One could wake up, and when August got back, they could ask him what he knew, too.

She had hoped that the puppet would come see her of his own accord, but he had returned the previous night and not bothered to do so. Of course, Cora was not surprised by that—August was certainly a coward of the lowest sort—but she was a tad irritated. Which was why she sought him out.

Breaking into his room at the inn and waiting for his return was no difficult feat. The patience part of the equation was a little more trying, but Cora spent that time rewriting her special lists, creating plans for the future and deciding exactly how she was going to use the tools at her disposal. She took notes, of course; the risk of having the notes discovered was not nearly so great as the consequences of forgetting her own plans. Cora was not a fool. Complicated plots were easily lost track of if one was not careful, and she had always been careful. These plans, contingency plans, and counterstrategies had been in her mind for over twenty-eight years, and a mere puppet was not going to send any of them awry.

His expression when he stepped into the room and saw her, however, was quite lovely.

"Your…Majesty," August said slowly, his eyes wide with shock and fear.

"Pinocchio," she purred, enjoying the way his wooden leg dragged. Now that her magic was back, Cora could find a way to fix him. She could only turn him fully human temporarily, of course; she didn't think she had the power to do so permanently, but August wasn't to know that. Still, he'd have to earn that. Cora gave nothing away for free.

"What are you doing here?"

"Your absence has been noted, dear," she smiled. "I missed your…services when you did not return."

"I—I had things to take care of," he stuttered, shifting uncomfortably.

"Of course you did." Cora rose from the chair at the desk, smoothing her skirt out as she did so. "Yet while you were gone, I began to believe you were no longer worried for your dear papa's safety."

That made him flinch.

"But I know that is not the case, is it?" she pressed delicately.

Wide eyed, August stared at her, clearly getting the hint. "I just…I just needed to get away. I talked to a friend, just had a couple of drinks…nothing important. I swear. Emma didn't know where I was, either."

"So, you're lazy as well as being a coward," Cora shrugged. "This is no surprise. But what friend did you talk to?

"Excuse me?"

"What friend?" she pressed. "Did you see them in person, or did you use your phone?"

Not for the first time, Cora wished she had someone within the town who she could send after fools like August, but the curse kept everyone but her inside. The only way anyone else could leave was with her, which was why she'd had to go to Boston with Regina in order to set up Henry's adoption. Of course, that had turned out to be a terrible decision; she had given Regina a child to build the perfect little family, to give Regina someone harmlessto love. Yet it had brought her nothing but grief. Grief and a Savior, the Evil Queen remembered acidly. Just thinking of that put her in a foul mood, and August was the only target currently available.

"He called," August answered quickly. "I didn't get far enough to visit anyone. I don't have a lot of friends, really."

"Then who is this one?"

"No one. I—" He cut off as his cell phone flew out of his pocket and landed in Cora's hand. Quickly, she pulled up the received calls list, noticing that August really wasn't a terribly popular man. I wonder if he annoys everyone else as much as he annoys me, she thought idly, noticing a name attached to a fifteen minute long phone call.

"Neal Cassidy," she read. "And who is this?"

"You have got to be kidding me."

Ruby had spent most of the last few days drugged and dopey, and now she was listening to two blondes tell her that there was no escape, and that she'd be beaten soundly for trying. But neither Ana nor Mirabella seemed to be laughing, and if there was a punchline to what they'd just told her, Ruby couldn't find it.

"She's not," Ana Scadlock—technically her name was Victoria, but Ruby wasn't dumb enough to tell her that—said grimly. "Believe me. When Francis dropped me off here, I tried to get out right away, and Merryweather's thugs beat the hell out of me, with 'Ms.' Carroll watching to make sure they beat me thoroughly enough."

"Your husband brought you here?" Ruby gaped, preferring to focus on that rather than the horribleness of the rest of it.

"Yeah." Ana grimaced. "But it's not his fault. He didn't have a choice."

"How do people not know about this place?" she demanded. How did I not know about this place? The waitress wondered worriedly. I mean, I knew Emma was looking into something called the Basement, but she's got no idea how horrible this place is. Talia Rose looks like someone tried to smash her face in with a baseball bat, and whats-his-name Paris looks even worse.

"No one cares," Mirabella said quietly, twisting her shoulder-length hair around one finger nervously. "Everyone who knows doesn't care. Or they have reasons to be silent."

"They can't expect us to go out on 'dates' and come back here," Ruby objected, her mind whirling. She'd never really thought about Merryweather's escorts before, and now she was starting to feel guilty, but she'd be damned if she was going to behave herself like some pliant little girl. She wasn't cowed, and she sure as hell wasn't going to live in a place where Merryweather's bully boys could boss her around. And worse.

"Have you ever seen any of us out in town?" Magnolia Souci spoke up from where she'd been comforting Paris. "Mirabella's the only one who's ever been out of the Basement, and that was only the once."

Oddly enough, the shorter blonde went a bit red at that. "It was only because Killian paid extra," she muttered.

"And because you actually have a regular customer who fancies you and who doesn't also beat you," Ana put in bluntly. "Merryweather has some sort of dirt on him, anyway. She has to, to have let you go out of here with him."

Mirabella just shrugged and looked back at Ruby, speaking compassionately. "Magnolia's right, Ruby," she said gently. "We don't usually get to leave. I doubt I'll ever get to again. We're not escorts."

"Then what the hell are we supposed to be?" Ruby demanded, trying to pretend her voice hadn't gone shrill with worry and more than a little fear.

"We're the girls who can't say no," Ana replied, looking her straight in the eye. "And they'll beat the life out of you for trying. Just look at Talia."

Reluctantly, Ruby did, taking in the bruised and bloodied face that Magnolia was currently holding ice against. Talia looked miserable, not to mention defeated, and Ruby wanted to strangle someone on her behalf. "What happened?"

"She and Paris got caught sleeping together," Ana answered. "They weren't even having sex, but Madam Merryweather doesn't approve."

"They were beaten like that for sharing a bed?" she gaped.

"That's not the worst of it. You try to escape, they'll just beat you. But you try anything else, and your family suffers. That Granny of yours? She's up on the chopping block if you misbehave. Just like my husband is if I do, and like Paris and Talia get beat on if the other acts out."

"That's…"

She didn't know what to say. She just didn't. Ruby was a fighter, and she didn't believe in giving in, but how in the world was she supposed to fight this? She couldn't do anything that would lead to Granny getting hurt, and no one seemed to know about this place. Or care. Even Cyril (Killian) O'Malley, who had seemed like a decent guy—if flirty and sometimes naughty—apparently knew about this place and paid for Mirabella to go out with him. What the hell is going on here? She asked herself, and then tried not to swallow nervously when Madam Merryweather came walking down the stairs with Carroll right on her heels. The older woman appeared nice enough until you got a good look at her eyes, and that was what sent a chill running down Ruby's spine. Carroll, however, turned to look straight at her.

"You're not being trouble, are you, Miss Lucas? I'd hate to hear you were," the dark skinned woman said coolly.

"No." Ruby gulped. She wanted to snap something back, but what should she say? Mouthing off would only tell them that she meant to do something, and Ruby didn't want to tip her hand so soon.

Still, she was in huge trouble, and she had to get out. Fast.

6 Months Before the Curse

"She's not going to try to talk to that infernal Snow White again, is she, darling?" Cruella asked over the crackling of the fire, and Ursula grimaced.

"Thankfully, no. The stupid heroes already turned her down, and Maleficent has too much pride to go crawling back," she replied with a sigh, leaning back against a rock wall outside the cave and shivering. Mal hadn't wanted to risk breathing fire with the egg so close by—apparently that could make it hatch early—so they'd been left with the rubbish little fire Cruella was able to light. Ursula, being a sea creature, had no use for open flame, not when you could find warm springs, anyway. "Even if Regina did warn her that her mother is going to try to get the Dark Curse from Rumplestiltskin soon."

"He'll have to be a fool to give it to her, and even our diminutive Dark One is no fool," her companion—and lover—sniffed, pulling her furs close around her body.

"Well, we have seen how he can make an idiot out of himself over women," Ursula pointed out, rubbing her arms for warmth. "Didn't he and Cora have a thing back in the day?"

Cruella shuddered theatrically. "Don't remind me. Besides, he's quite moved on to that little maid of his. Don't you remember how eager he was to give up the gauntlet to save her?"

"Right before he took it back, you mean," she retorted, imagining how good her tentacles would look wrapped around that scrawny gold neck.

"Oh, that's no matter, darling. We all know what's coming. If Cora gets that curse, we villains won't be off nearly as badly as the heroes," the other woman waved a hand. "In the meantime, I plan on making friends with Cora to make sure my life is every bit as comfortable as I would like it to be."

"You can't be serious. That woman is crazy."

"So?" Cruella shrugged. "It takes one villain to know another, and you and I both know what the heroes think of us." Ursula opened her moth to argue, only to be forestalled. "Oh, I'll not betray you or Mal. Don't worry about that. But it won't hurt us at all to have one foot in each camp. Maleficent is friends with Regina, and so I'll cozy up to her dear mother. You can be our wildcard—or be friendly with the Dark One, if you like. He's always got his own game going."

"You're impossible, you know that?" she asked fondly. Yet it was a good idea. Maleficent had gone to the damn Charmings and offered to help them, after all. She'd even told them that Cora's threat the day they'd announced little Snow was expecting would likely be fulfilled in the form of a terrible curse. Maleficent had offered an alliance, had offered help and information free of charge, and she'd been spat on for her troubles. They all had, and that burned.

What did they care if Cora cast the Curse to End all Curses? They could bargain to be together, no matter what horrible world the curse thrust them in to, and then they could watch as the heroes suffered. Ursula had no love for those fools, particularly after they'd decided to throw their attempt to help back in their faces. Now they were guarding Maleficent as she guarded her own egg, the child that their dragon friend treasured above anything else—and Ursula wouldn't put it past the heroes to try to endanger that child, either. That, of course, was why she and Cruella were there. The heroes might think that villains couldn't form friendships, but they were wrong.

"Are you in, Ursula, or are you going to pout all day?" Cruella broke into her thoughts.

"I'm not pouting. I'm thinking," she shot back, and the other woman laughed.

"There's nothing to think about, darling, unless you're contemplating how to lay your own egg. It must be a marvelous way to keep your figure when pregnant."

Despite herself, Ursula laughed. Yes, life with Cruella was always an adventure, and Mal only made things more interesting. Surely the three of them could come to some sort of accommodation with Cora. After all, Cora was in exile now, and gathering allies of all sorts. Ursula had heard that even Jafar had paid her a visit, and if that wasn't a surprise, she didn't know what was. So had some odd green-skinned witch from Oz, of all places! The heroes had no idea of the scope of the force Cora was building to oppose them, and it would definitely be in their best interests to be on the winning side.

It was the first time they'd ventured out into town since Rumplestiltskin had been injured, and Belle wanted nothing more than to wrap an arm around his waist and show the entire town how much he meant to her the moment they got out of the car. But she resisted the urge—barely—and settled for exchanging a smile with her husband. He was still walking with the cane, and usually remembering to pretend to limp, but he was up and around, and the light that beating had dimmed from his eyes was back. There was a bounce in his step that she hadn't seen since the Enchanted Forest, and if Belle could have stared at him all day long, she still wouldn't have had enough.

"Ready?" he asked her, and she could see the old imp coiling within him, wanting to wiggle in glee.

"Never more so," she replied, reaching out to take his hand. They'd been careful, making sure that Cora was away from the town hall, but now was the time to finally fill in the loophole they were both too aware of. The curse would break soon enough, and they needed to be ready. This was only the first step of many, but at least they were going to enjoy themselves.

Hand in hand, they walked into town hall and down to the Clerk of Court's office. Storybrooke's Clerk of Court had been a bailiff back in the Enchanted Forest, and he'd actually been from Caerleon, the town that owed fealty to the Dark Castle. That meant that Rumplestiltskin had technically been his lord and Belle his lady—though the latter had been a secret the bailiff had not been privy to. Much though Rumplestiltskin eschewed the title of 'Lord' of Caerleon, Belle knew that he always had looked out for his people. He'd probably not been pleased to find one of his people working directly for Cora like this, but now it had become useful. Even if Royce Hopkins didn't remember ever knowing Rumplestiltskin right now, he'd probably favor him once the curse broke.

Hopefully.

Hopkins was sitting at his desk when they walked in, and if the stout, balding man was surprised to see Gold and his 'kept woman' walking in together, he didn't show it.

"Hello," Belle said cheerfully, and was glad to see that Hopkins smiled back.

"Miss French," he acknowledged her. "Mr. Gold."

It took a brave man to greet her first, and Belle liked Hopkins immediately. Rumplestiltskin—who was old fashioned in the cutest ways—clearly approved as well, though his tone failed to show it when he replied simply: "We'd like to get married. The required paperwork is all here."

The folder landed neatly on the desk, but Hopkins' wide brown eyes clearly didn't see it. Instead, he stuttered: "You…you what?"

"Legally speaking," Belle supplied, feeling bad for him and not wanting Rumple to start in on intimidation yet. "We don't need a ceremony, but we'd like to do it today. And secretly."

"But you're—you're—"

"What my father and his accomplice did have no bearing on my life," she cut him off, trying not to let her annoyance show. "Mr. Gold and I want to get married. We're both here of our own free will. Is there a problem?"

"Um, no?" Hopkins was still staring at her with wide eyes. "I just…I was just surprised, is all. Nothing more." He snuck a nervous glance at Rumple, who immediately said:

"I believe that your own wife has been ill, yes?" His voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking the purpose in the unhurried tone. "Hospital bills stacking up?"

"…Yes."

"Well, then, dear, today is your lucky day." Leaning down, Rumplestiltskin opened the folder to the front page. "I will make a deal with you. You will marry us and file the paperwork without letting the mayor see it. You'll mention our marriage to no one, and in return, I will pay for your mother's medical care. All of it."

"You would?" the clerk gasped, but now he sounded more hopeful than frightened. Clearly, he'd been expecting threats, not a deal

Is this a bribe? Belle wondered. We're not asking for anything illegal, though defying Cora is a lot to ask in this town. Still, this approach was far better than threatening the poor man, and she approved.

"I never break a deal," Rumplestiltskin replied bluntly, pointing at the paper. "Sign the contract, and your worries for your mother are over."

"I can do that!" Quickly, Hopkins did so, and moments later, he led them through a set of impersonal and hurried wedding vows. They were nothing like the heartfelt vows Belle had exchanged with her husband in Amorveria, but Belle didn't need a romantic wedding. She'd already had one of those, one she would never forget. Now what they needed was a secret wedding, one that would still count when the curse was broken—even if no one in town wanted to acknowledge their real wedding—but one that Cora could not catch wind of.

There were risks, of course, but Belle rather fancied becoming Mrs. Gold. It was better than leaving herself tied to her father, particularly after what Moe French had done. Later, they'd sign a joint custody agreement that Rumplestiltskin would quietly file with the most compliant judge he could find. Change was coming to Storybrooke, after all, and it did not do to meet such things unprepared. Belle was as determined to face whatever came at her husband's side, so it closing every possible loophole off now was infinitely preferable to do so later.

They shared a quick kiss, thanked Hopkins, and headed out of the office less than fifteen minutes after walking in, legally married and with a copy of the marriage certificate to prove it. Belle, of course, had every intention of dragging her husband home after this and recreating at least one facet of their original wedding night, but first they had to step back into the sunlight and pretend like they were not madly in love. They'd made it halfway to the car when they ran into Cora.

"Taking your pet for a walk, dear?" the mayor asked immediately, and Belle felt her husband tense. Her hand had been resting lightly on his left arm, and she could sense the magic rolling through him. A shiver ran down her spine as power gathered, and for a moment, Belle worried that he might attack Cora then and there.

"Hardly," he ground out, glaring.

Cora smiled sweetly. "Miss French, I'm so surprised to see you continuing to keep company with such a dangerous man as our Mr. Gold. You will have to let me know if you ever need help getting away from him. It's such a pity that your father failed to save you."

"I didn't need rescuing," Belle snapped before she could stop herself.

"Perhaps not yet," the mayor chuckled, but her laugh cut off when Rumpelstiltskin stepped forward to grab her arm.

"Don't get any ideas, Cora," he growled.

"Ideas? I'm merely making conversation."

"Well, do it elsewhere. Please," her husband snapped, and Belle saw the magic take hold, spinning Cora around and forcing her to walk away. The use of that caveat clearly infuriated her, but Belle wasted no time in leading her husband to the car.

Another few seconds, and I'd be explaining fireballs to the fire department, she thought without a shred of amusement. Fortunately, Rumplestiltskin acquiesced and climbed into the driver's seat instead of attacking Cora like Belle could see was burning to do.

"Was that wise? Using a 'please' again?" she wondered once they were settled.

"I don't like her near you," Rumplestiltskin snarled, and Belle felt her heart fill with love for this foolish, protective man.

"I'm not the one she's hurt, Rumple," she reminded him softly, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "I don't like her near you."

"I'm fine."

"Of course you are," she agreed, choosing not to mention the nightmares they both knew he still had. "I just worry that she'll try to find a way to hurt you again."

He snorted. "Let her try."

"Let's not say that, all right?" Belle said pointedly. "I don't want any more nights of waiting for you to come home bleeding and shaken."

"I'm not—"

"I know," she cut him off before he could try to claim that he'd never been frightened or that Cora hadn't carved scars into him that time would never heal. They both knew better, but Rumple liked to pretend. Leaning over, Belle kissed him on the cheek. "I love you. And let's go home so I can remind you of how much."

Had she not blown in his ear, Rumplestiltskin might have continued being grouchy, but he was so ticklish that she knew it would do the trick. He tried to glare at her, but when Belle leaned in to kiss him properly, she knew she had won. "I love you, too," he whispered against her lips.

"Forever," Belle agreed with a sultry smile. "Now take me home, husband, and let's consummate our second marriage. Just in case."

Doing so wasn't required in this world, of course, but that didn't mean that they wouldn't enjoy themselves.

He'd expected a slightly better greeting than this when he reached the private room Merryweather had set aside.

"You really are a piece of work, you know that?" Mirabella demanded, making Killian blink.

"I—what makes you say that, love?"

"Don't call me 'love'," she snapped. "I'm not your 'love'. I'm a whore that you pay for."

Taken aback, a long moment passed before Killian could find his voice. "I know that. I thought, well, I thought you knew that you were more than that. To me, I mean."

"Am I?" Mirabella asked him, and really, he couldn't blame her. He still dreamt of Milah, was in the midst of (failing to) seduce Emma Swan, and yet he kept finding himself coming back to this woman. And paying for her. Yet he'd never forced her. He'd always asked, never taking anything Mirabella wasn't willing to give and always taking no at face value. They usually talked more than anything else; Mirabella—whoever she had been back home—was clever and funny, and Killian enjoyed spending time with her. Sometimes, he felt like she was the only one in this entire town who saw him for who he wanted to be, and as foolish as that thought was, given how she was still under the curse, he reveled in that feeling.

"Yes," he said more honestly than he wanted to. "You are."

"Other men buy me, too," she said, sounding defensive.

"Tell me who they are and I'll encourage them to never dream of doing it again," he replied without thinking, and Mirabella actually smiled.

"You know I can't do that. You know how things are here."

"They won't be like this forever," Killian said, and almost smacked himself. What, did he want the curse to be broken? Cora would strangle him—or rip his heart out—for even thinking such a sentiment, but he did feel for Mirabella. He always had. She reminded him of someone, and it wasn't just the way her fire and her daring brought Milah to mind. She was herself, and liked her…and he'd always felt she deserved better than being locked in this place.

"Tell that to Talia and Paris. They were both beaten senseless for cuddling, Killian. Or the new girl who tried to argue with Ms. Carroll and got two broken ribs for her pains. You know she'll be expected to 'entertain' customers despite that," the woman he'd taken sailing on Valentine's Day bit out, her expression hard and angry. "This place never changes, unless it's to get worse."

Pirate though he might have been, hearing tales like that could turn even his stomach. "There's a new girl?" he managed to ask after a moment.

"Yeah." Mirabella met his gaze very levelly. "I think you know her. Her name's Ruby."

The leggy wolf-girl. Now Killian's stomach did do a backflip, and he felt like vomiting. He'd known that the Lucas girl had disappeared, but he'd assumed that she'd run off with the author she was always fawning over. When August had come back, Killian had assumed that Ruby had, too, despite not seeing her since then. But now she was down here? What in the world could the waitress have done to offend Cora so much?

Now she was hurt, and Mirabella was staring at him in a challenging way, all but demanding he do something about this. He'd always liked Mirabella's fire, and he got the hint, all right. Even if he knew that she didn't dare come out and say anything. One word overheard—even the ones she'd already said—would line Mirabella up for a beating, probably worse than any she'd ever received. Mirabella had always been the most outspoken of the Basement's long term girls, and Killian had tried to shield her as much as he could over the years. It had never been much, and she had never asked him to do so, but he'd always wanted to try.

But now she was—silently and eloquently—asking him to help, and Killian had a deadly decision to make.

Henry enjoyed going out with his grandparents. He really did. But today's trip to the park had been more than a little bit strange, mostly because Dad/Gramps seemed distracted and distant no matter what Mary Margaret said. Henry had run around with the other kids for a while, hoping that being away from the pair would get them to talk, or cuddle, or something. Or maybe they'd even kiss, because if they really kissed, maybe they could break the curse. Henry was running out of ideas on how to break it, after all, and even Emma believing didn't seem to be doing the trick. Assuming she was actually believing and not just humoring him.

But nothing had happened. Mary Margaret seemed to be trying to draw Henry's adoptive father out of the shell he'd somehow crawled into, but she hadn't managed, either. So, when they walked back into town their conversation was oddly stilted, leaving Henry to wonder what in the world had gone wrong. David, however, insisted on stopping off at the animal shelter to check on a sick kitten, which at least gave him a chance to talk to Mary Margaret.

"Do you think they're something wrong with him?" he asked bluntly. They probably didn't have much time.

Mary Margaret shrugged. "I don't know, Henry," she replied quietly, glancing worriedly at the door David had disappeared through. "He seems so…distant."

"He wasn't like that this morning," Henry said, wishing it wasn't true. But David hadn't started acting like that until they'd meet Mary Margaret in the park.

"Maybe he has a touch of the flu," she suggested hopefully.

"I don't think so. Mom bullies him pretty good when he's sick."

"I bet she does." Mary Margaret's smile was strained. "I'm sure you father is fine. He probably just…"

Oh, no. Henry could see the curse working on her, could see her insecurities piling up and her starting to doubt, so he spoke up quickly. "It isn't you. I know it isn't you," he told his grandmother. "Dad loves you more than anything. If he's not acting like it, there's something wrong."

"I don't know," she said softly. "Maybe we're just not meant to be."

"You are. You're True Love, remember? We just have to get the curse broken so you can both remember that," he reminded her. "This is probably the curse trying to drive you apart. Don't let it. True Love has to be fought for."

"I remember that from your book."

"Well, then do it," Henry smiled. "You'll be okay. I know it."

But he still wasn't sure what was wrong with David. Despite what Henry had told Mary Margaret, he was certain that it wasn't just the curse, but clearly he'd picked the wrong adult to talk to. He needed to mention this to his mom. She'd know what to do. Even if she had been acting a little funny about the curse lately.

"A word, Swan?"

Startled, Emma looked up from the stack of affidavits she'd been reviewing, surprised to see the marina owner standing in her office. She noticed right away that he looked uncharacteristically nervous, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other and not at all looking like his usual suave self.

"Killian," she greeted him curiously. "What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk," he said shortly.

Emma blinked. He wasn't even flirting with her, and that was a first. "Well, sit down and let's talk, then,."

"Not here."

That put her on edge. Clearly something was up, and whatever it was had Killian strangely anxious. Spooked, even. Emma's instincts were already lighting off and while she was sure that he wasn't lying, she was certain of nothing else. Whatever was going on, however, required investigation, so Emma stood and moved away from her desk. "Lead on," she said, gesturing towards the door. "Where do you want to go?"

"Somewhere without mirrors," he muttered, and Emma did a double take. She couldn't have heard that properly, not when Henry had just been talking about mirror magic the day before.

"Come again?"

"Nothing," Killian said, shaking his head and leading her outside. It was a nice day, growing warmer as the sun got higher in the sky, but Killian shied away from people and headed down the alley behind the diner, stopping right next to the very full and stinky dumpster.

"Okay, this is getting a bit cloak and dagger-y," she said when he shoved his hands awkwardly into his pockets and stared blankly at the dumpster. "You gonna tell me what you want to talk about?"

A long moment of silence passed, during which Emma started to wonder if Killian was even listening to her. Then he spoke in a rush, the urgency in his voice startling Emma:

"This can't get back to Cora. And you can't use what I tell you officially. You'll have to do it outside the law."

"Whoa, slow down. What?" Emma demanded.

"You wanted to know more about the Basement, and I'm going to tell you," Killian replied, his blue eyes focusing on her and burning passionately. "Because you have to get them all out of there. Soon."

"You've got to give me something I can work with," she objected. "Rumors aren't—"

"Look, everything you've heard about the place is right. People pay for the 'merchandise' down there and can do whatever they want," he cut in. "And it has to stop."

"You gonna testify about that?" Emma asked, trying not to sound frustrated. But the Basement had always been a black hole she could never crack. People knew bad things happened there, but no one could prove it and no one was willing to talk. And now Killian was talking, but of course he wanted it to be confidentially.

"Of course not! I like living, Swan."

"Cora's not going to kill you," she scoffed. But the library fire came to mind, as did the attack on Gold. If Regina and Henry were right about the curse, might Cora actually be as evil as Regina claimed? Could she really be some Evil Queen?

"You have no idea what that woman is capable of," he retorted.

Emma crossed her arms. "You never struck me as the type to run scared."

"I'm not." Then he smiled wolfishly. "But I'm a sensible man, and making an enemy of the mayor is hardly wise."

"Then why come to me at all?" She wanted to shake him, and barely resisted the urge to do so.

Blue eyes met hers. "Because your friend Ruby is a prisoner there."

Ever since she had learned that her mother was a powerful sorceress, Zelena had dreamed of a moment like this. Her mother trusted her, had included Zelena in her plans and was now even allowing her to come along on a day like this. They had made four stops, and this was the fifth, magic sweeping them from place to place like a pair of avenging angels. Regina hadn't done this with their mother, Zelena knew. She had always tried too hard to be like the stupid heroes, instead of embracing the power that their mother could give them. Regina was a fool, and now Zelena sat at her mother's right hand.

No one could stop them.

"What…what are you doing?" the owner of the ice cream shoppe stuttered, staring at the pair of them when Cora threw her against the wall with magic.

"Don't play at being foolish, dear," Cora purred. "It's unbecoming of a woman who should be a queen."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ingrid objected, but her protests sounded weak to Zelena's ears, and that made her giggle.

"Of course you do. I've been watching you since you marched into Storybrooke with your memory stones and tried to pretend that you were here all along," her mother replied with a smile. "Did you think I failed to notice that?"

"I—" Ingrid's eyes went wide, but then Zelena saw the older woman's expression change. "Very well, then. I will not try to lie. What do you want?"

"Your allegiance, of course," Cora answered easily. "Your ice magic is powerful, and I am collecting allies."

"I'm not like you. I'm not interested in power."

Cora's perfectly trimmed eyebrows rose. Her eyes were on Ingrid, but Zelena heard the edge in her mother's voice, and she knew what needed to be done. "Is that a no?"

"It's—"

Zelena never gave her the chance to finish that sentence, instead plunging her hand straight into Ingrid's chest. That took the so-called Snow Queen by surprise; obviously, no one had ever assaulted her in such a personal and physical way. But Zelena just grinned as she yanked the beating heart free, glancing down at it to see the black spots amidst the red glow.

"What was that?" she asked cheerfully. "Were you about to say that you were going to make your own decisions?"

"You can't!" Ingrid objected, reaching for her heart, only to find herself flung back against the wall by Cora's magic.

"I just did," Zelena cooed, grinning.

"Well done, darling," Cora praised her, holding out a box for the heart before she turned back to face Ingrid. "You could have been my ally. Now, you are my servant. You will tell no one of this, and you will do as I command."

Zelena placed the heart within the box, treasuring the look of fury on Ingrid's face. Impotent fury, that was, and it was beautiful. Ruling Oz had been nice, but Oz was a small land. Once she had ousted the false Wizard and exiled her 'sister' witches, there had been no challenges to her power. Here in Storybrooke, however, there were many powerful magic users, many of which were now beholden to Cora. Watching her mother work was absolutely fascinating. Cora was utterly brilliant and Zelena was going to be by her side. For everything.

A/N: The scene here with Cruella and Ursula is the same scene Snow and Charming interrupt in the show—but, as you can see, the Apprentice has not sent them to steal the egg, which means they didn't come here. And a note for the last chapter: Ms. Carroll is Ursula's Storybrooke identity. We'll see Cruella later.

Next up: Chapter Sixty-Two—"True Loyalties," where Emma tries to figure out how to get into the Basement once and for all, Cora reminds Killian who has the power in their relationship, August fesses up to a secret, and trouble comes to call on Belle. Back in the past, David tries to figure out a way to protect his and Snow's unborn child.