Chapter Sixty-Two—"True Loyalties"

"…We've got to get in there," Emma concluded. She'd chosen to speak with Regina outside, just as Killian had chosen to do with her, because there really wasn't any reason to think that the sheriff's station wasn't bugged. No, she didn't believe Henry's insinuation that Cora could actually spy on them through mirrors (or any reflective surface, which she thought was going a bit far), but being careful never hurt. Killian had come to her the evening before, and Emma had sat on this as long as she could. Now that it was morning, she'd called and asked Regina to meet her here, because, well, who else should she turn to?

Her friend—and aunt, if Emma really was going to believe in this mess—sighed. "We've known that for a while. But Mother's not going to make it easy."

"We can't let her just kidnap people whenever she feels like it and stick them in some brothel!" Emma hissed, surprised to see Regina dragging her feet. "What could Ruby ever have done to her, anyway?"

"She bit her, actually," was the dry response.

"What?"

"I'll let Snow tell you that story when she wakes up." The older woman quirked a smile. "It's a pretty good one, actually."

Her world had gone mad, but Emma was actually kind of looking forward to hearing that. She was still struggling to keep everyone straight with their fairytale personas—how Henry made it look so easy, Emma would never know—but she supposed that she'd finally taken the plunge towards believing. Not that she was going to let the curse get in the way of doing the right thing for the people who were stuck in the Basement. As far as Emma was concerned, her job as sheriff came first. She had to help them, and then she could get on with breaking the curse.

However she was supposed to do that.

"Okay, stories aside, she needs help," Emma said firmly, and was glad when Regina nodded. "We can't leave Ruby—or the others—there. So how are we going to do this if my informant isn't willing to let me use the information officially?"

"I don't—" An odd expression crossed Regina's face, and then she suddenly changed her tune. "You know, I might just know someone who can help with that."

"You do? That's great! Who is it?"

"Uh, let me wait until I talk to them before volunteering anyone to help with our decidedly illegal endeavor," was the cagey answer, but Emma supposed she couldn't blame her. She had just opened her mouth to agree when a third voice interrupted:

"'Cuse me, Sheriff, but I couldn't help but overhear you planning something to do with the Basement," an accented man spoke up, and Emma whirled to face Francis Scadlock.

Oh, great. The head reporter was probably one of the last people she'd wanted to overhear this conversation. He was a professional sensationalist, preying on people who couldn't fight back, and depending upon scandals to sell newspapers. He was prick, too, one who had written a horribly untrue story about Mary Margaret and all but accused her of murder. Those rumors were still floating around, and Emma had not forgiven the reporter for it. Yet, he was a reporter, and with Sidney gone…

"What if we are?" she asked him, narrowing her eyes and looking for lies. "Not that I'm saying that we are."

"Well, if you are goin' after that awful place, I'd like to offer my help," he answered immediately, looking around furtively. "My wife—well, let's just say she don't belong there, neither, and I've got a bone to pick with Madam Merryweather. So, you do the job, and I'll make sure everyone knows about it. You can be dead certain that the entire bloody town will know how awful the place is once I'm through."

It was a damn good offer, and Emma was of a mind to accept. Regina, however, got in first.

"We'll think about it," she replied caustically, grabbing Emma by the arm. "For now, we were just leaving."

Emma managed to remain silent until they reached her bug, which Regina unceremoniously shoved her inside before climbing into the passenger seat. Then she turned to glare at her friend/aunt.

"What the hell was that?"

"He's one of my mother's favorite toadies," Regina retorted, waving a hand. It glowed slightly, and then so did the mirrors, and Emma wanted to bash her head into the steering wheel. What, Regina believes her mother can watch through mirrors, too? Great. Just great.

"So? It sounds like he's having a change of heart," she replied.

"He's cursed. He can't have a change of heart," the older woman snorted. "And Mother might just have his actual heart, which would really mean he's doing her bidding."

"What do you mean 'have his heart'?" Emma wondered, and that earned her an incredulous look.

"You really don't know anything about magic, do you?" Regina replied, and then proceeded to explain.

"I was beginning to feel like you had abandoned me, Captain," Cora said quietly as Killian came into her office. He hadn't been summoned, but Killian wasn't an idiot. He'd gone behind Cora's back to tell Emma about the Basement—an uncharacteristically altruistic action on his part—so now it was time to prove his loyalty. After all, he was still a villain. He might be hedging his bets by warning the Savior and becoming her friend (even if she didn't seem interested in more than a friendship at the moment), but Killian knew Cora well enough to know that she hadn't lost yet. She was a remarkably resilient woman, and he wasn't willing to bet against her.

"Of course not, love," he replied easily. "But it's hard to seduce the Savior if I always appear to be your friend."

"Yet you've not managed that, have you?" the queen countered with an ominous edge in her voice.

"Alas, no. The lady does not appear to desire courting at the moment," Killian admitted. "Though I do believe I've managed to secure her friendship, at least. She's spending more time with her son than any other man, so I don't think I have any competition on the romantic front."

"How dear is the boy to her?" Cora asked next, surprising Killian. She usually wanted to talk about Emma or some other threat to her rule. Why had Henry come up? Killian still felt guilty for his part in setting that library fire, in almost killing two children. He was grateful every day that the Errol Forrester had rushed into the library to rescue both of them…and now he was worried to hear Cora bring an innocent boy into this mess. Again.

"He's her son," he pointed out warily. "And also your grandson."

Cora shrugged. "He's no blood of mine."

Listening to her dismiss the boy so coldly rocked Killian to his core; he had done horrible things in his life, things he regretted and things he did not. But he had never even imagined treating a child so dismissively, or endangering one as blatantly as Cora seemed willing to do with Henry. Handing boys to Pan doesn't count, he told himself for the thousandth time, pushing those memories aside. Still, even Pan treated children better than this! So, he couldn't help staring at her incredulously, couldn't help the way his jaw dropped open ever so slightly. Cora has always been bloodthirsty and cold, but he had the feeling that she wanted to endanger a child, and Killian couldn't stomach that.

"Why does that matter?" he demanded a little more stringently than he should have.

"It doesn't." Another shrug. "Not yet."

A terrible feeling crept down Killian's spine, but Cora's next words only made it worse.

"Your loyalties, however, do. The fact that you're trying to help Miss Swan has not escaped me. Nor has your little conversation with her yesterday, the one you tried to hide out behind Granny's."

Now his jaw did drop open, and Killian swallowed hard. Cora did not even smile as she continued:

"You've told her more than I would like, Captain." Her voice turned cold. "But I'll be merciful. You want your little 'Mirabella' out of the Basement. Fine. I know that you're woefully sentimental and always have been. But you will do my bidding, unless you want Mirabella to mysteriously disappear before Swan and her little friends can get there."

Ah. Well, at least that threat was expected—and it wasn't like Killian was planning on betraying Cora, anyway. Not really. "I remain your ally, Your Majesty," he said frankly. "Because we both know that the Basement has never been anything to you save a distraction. And a convenient place to store old enemies, of course."

Cora snorted. "They're not important enough to be my enemies."

"Annoyances, then," Killian allowed. "You asked me to distract the Savior, so I am. She's less amendable to my romantic overtures than we had both hoped, so I've improvised."

"Have you now?" she questioned him astutely.

He was walking a fine line, Killian knew, keeping his options open and trying to play both sides. But right now, the only thing he could be certain of was that the curse would eventually break. Who would win after that happened he did not know; Cora was already planning, and Killian was wise enough never to count her out. So, the only safe thing was to earn credit with both sides, to make sure that he could best judge which side to choose when it came to the final battle.

"There's something wrong with David," Henry said to his mother, and she gave him a narrow look.

"You should still call him 'Dad', you know," Regina pointed out.

"He's my grandfather, Mom. I mean, he's my dad, too, but it's so cool that he's Prince Charming and he's my grandpa. I want to call him that because I love him."

"I'm still your mother." She spoke levelly, but Henry could see the worry buried underneath a studiously casual expression. So, he hugged her.

"That's different," Henry pointed out. "You're my mom. If you were my grandma, too, maybe that'd be different, but you're not. You're my mom, no matter what happens. Dad's my dad, but he's also my grandpa, and I want to call him what he really is. This world isn't the real thing, it's just a curse."

Regina hugged him back tightly, and Henry felt her swallow hard. He loved his adopted mother as much as he loved his birth mother—and had loved her for longer, too—but sometimes he didn't understand her insecurities. Of course, Henry knew Regina's story and knew that she had those she'd loved many times. But things were different now. Surely she could see that? Still, he knew that he wasn't doing a very good job of explaining things. He loved David, but he knew that the man who had raised him—the doormat that Cora had created—wasn't the real Prince Charming. His adopted father was exactly what Cora wanted him to be, and not awake like Regina was. If Regina hadn't woken up, maybe things would be different with her, too. But this was the real Regina, and she'd become his mom now even if she'd been less than ideal while cursed.

"I love you, Henry," she whispered, and Henry squeezed her back before pulling away.

"I love you, too," he smiled. But something was weighing on his mind, so he couldn't help continuing: "And I love Grandpa. That's why I know there's something wrong with him. He's really distant, even with Mary Margaret."

"He is?" Regina sounded surprised, and Henry understood why. She was trying so hard to take a step back and give David and Mary Margaret space, trying to bring Prince Charming and Snow White out from behind the curse.

"Yeah. Even Mary Margaret is worried."

Regina blinked. "I'll talk to him, okay, sweetie?"

"Okay," he agreed. Regina would figure out what was going on, Henry knew. She was smart like that, and she knew the stories even better than he did. She'd get to the bottom of this. He knew it.

5 Months Before the Curse

"Are you all right?" Snow asked him quietly, and David turned to face his wife. She was beginning to show, and she'd never been more beautiful—but the surge of love that ran through him only reminded him of all the reasons he had to be concerned.

"I'm fine," he answered honestly. "I'm just…worried."

"You've seemed so distant lately," she replied, stepping forward to put a hand on his arm.

"I keep trying to come up with ways to keep you and our child safe. Cora made her threat a month ago, and I keep wondering what she's going to do to ruin things. I can't risk you—either of you."

"Oh, Charming." Snow nestled up to him, and David gladly wrapped his arms around her. "It will be all right. Regina is still helping us, remember?"

"I worry about her, too," he couldn't help saying. "We both know she's done everything she can for us, so what happens when Cora is too powerful? Regina has always been honest about her mother being stronger than she is."

"We'll get through this," his wife reassured him. "Together. Like we do everything."

"Yeah." But he still found himself staring out the window, out at a countryside their child would someday inherit. David would do anything to keep his family safe, even things he knew were not wise. He would try not to cross lines that should not be crossed, and yet… "Maybe it's time for us to make another deal," he said quietly.

"You mean with Rumplestiltskin."

"He's helped us before," David pointed out. "And Regina knows him better than most. She'll be able to tell if he's pushing too hard."

Snow frowned. "I'm not sure, David. Cora already can't harm us, right? What more can she do?"

"Aside from send the assassins that Grumpy caught yesterday?"

"All right. You have a point. But surely there's no need for that, right?"

"I just want our child to be protected."

"Things are getting bad, you know," August said quietly, wishing he could come outright and tell Emma what was going on. But he didn't dare. Cora hadn't taken his heart—despite threatening to—but she had his papa under her control. Whoever had attacked Marco had obviously done it on the queen's orders, and August didn't dare try to wiggle away from her right now. There was too much at risk.

I shouldn't have come back, he told himself. Returning to Storybrooke would only make things worse; had August stayed away, he might have managed to keep his father safe and avoided betraying Emma. Instead, he'd let his own odd sense of duty bring him back—that, and a phone call he hadn't expected. So, here he was in the sheriff's office, trying to ignore the two men in cells outside and get a curse broken.

"I've noticed," the sheriff replied, looking distracted as she fiddled with the blinds.

"What is it?"

"Nothing." Emma shook her head. "I'm just thinking. There's a lot going on."

This was the first time August had been able to pin Emma down in private since he'd come back, but he could already sense that something was going on. What had happened while he'd been gone? It hadn't been that long—just three days! What could have changed in such a short time? Emma seemed both more distant and more driven, and August wasn't sure if that was a good thing at all.

"Yeah, there is."

For a moment, August almost asked her if she'd started believing, because he was almost sure that she had. But if he knew, he'd have to tell Cora. So, he didn't ask.

"I took the money," he blurted out instead, leftover guilt from talking to Neal still with him—particularly given what he'd told Cora about Emma's ex-boyfriend.

"Money?" Emma finally looked up at him, confused.

"Neal," August said, swallowing hard. "Neal…gave me the money from selling the watches. It was twenty thousand dollars, and I said I'd send it to you with the bug."

Green eyes widened, staring at him. "There wasn't any money with the bug," Emma protested. "And…and you sent the car to me? How did you know I was in jail?"

"I did," he admitted in a whisper, not sure why these words were coming out now. Maybe Emma just deserved to know before Neal showed up in Storybrooke. Maybe he could give her that much. August couldn't seem to help her break the curse, but he could give her something worthwhile. "I…I was the one who called the cops. It wasn't Neal. He wanted to go to jail for you, but I sold you out."

Emma just stared at him, and August felt any trust she'd held for him evaporating. Maybe that's good, he thought sadly. Then Cora can't use me against her. See, Papa? I promised I'd look out for Emma, and I'm actually doing that, now.

"You what?" she managed to say.

"I was supposed to watch over you from the moment we came out of the wardrobe, but I'm not really good at resisting temptation. I ran away with a bunch of other kids, and I left you behind," he told her quietly. "Then, when I found you again, you were with Neal. You two were happy, and I was afraid that you might settle down with him and never come to Storybrooke."

"You sent me to jail?" Emma demanded, suddenly looking more angry than shocked. "You did that? You—you—why?"

"Because if you found happiness, you would never have come to break the curse," he replied miserably.

"You don't know that! If you hadn't done that, if you hadn't sent me to jail, Henry would have grown up with us!" she wheeled on him, shouting now. "Instead, he grew up like both Neal and I did, never knowing that his parents loved him! And Neal doesn't even know about him because you let me blame Neal!"

"I know." August had to swallow, but couldn't help cringing. "It's my fault. I convinced Neal to stay away once I'd called the cops, and when he tried to send you the money and the car…I took the money. I don't even remember what I spent it on."

He could see the unshed tears in Emma's eyes, and August knew that he'd ruined any chance of an actual friendship with her. But…but maybe this was what he deserved. He'd lied to her and he'd ruined her life. The least he could do was tell her the truth now.

"Get out," she whispered brokenly, and he went.

Coward that he was, though, he never told her that Neal was on his way to Storybrooke…or that Neal was in fact related to someone else in this very town. He also never mentioned exactly how much Cora knew.

The knock on the door came just as Belle was crawling around on the living room floor. She was "it" and searching for her daughter, pretending not to notice the muffled giggles coming from behind the couch. Three year olds, even daughters of Rumplestiltskin, were not the most subtle creatures ever created, and Renee had a lot to learn about playing hide and seek. The game was a break from Belle's current planning about how to help bring Emma around—now that Regina knew about her, she saw no reason to stay completely on the sidelines. Of course, she'd need to be careful, since Belle knew better than most how dangerous Cora was, but she was ready to help. Back in the Enchanted Forest, Belle had chaffed with being Rumplestiltskin's hidden wife, even though she'd understood the necessity. But Storybrooke was too small for that, and she was glad.

"Mama, door!" Renee announced, just in case Belle had missed it.

"Now I found you, silly duck," she replied with a smile, picking herself up and brushing off her skirt. "You stay in here, okay?"

"Uh huh."

Renee was a well behaved girl, and her block set was still on the floor on the other side of the couch. She'd be all right for a few minutes while Belle dealt with their visitor, so Belle strode through the front hall and peered curiously through the stained glass windows next to the door.

A balding, heavyset man stood on their stoop, fiddling with his glasses. Belle couldn't remember ever having seen him before, although a vague memory of Lacey's surfaced enough to make her just a little nervous. Still, that was no reason to be rude, so Belle opened the door with a smile.

"Hello. What can I do for you?"

"Miss French?" the man asked, and Belle just managed to keep that smile in place. Technically, no. Technically, even in this world, I'm Mrs. Gold now, but I suppose pointing that out would be silly.

"Yes?"

"I'm Mr. Tollak. I run Fagin's Group Home and the Storybrooke Office of Child and Family Services."

"It's nice to meet you," Belle replied warily. There was something about the man's manner that put her on edge, that made her start to worry. Tollak hadn't said anything out of the ordinary, but his mere presence was worrisome.

"I'm afraid I can't say the same," Tollak responded, and that did nothing to put her at ease. "My office has received worrisome reports about you, Miss French, and the conditions in which you keep your daughter."

"About what?" Belle asked in shock, unable to believe her ears.

"You are an unmarried single mother living with a notoriously powerful man. You are unemployed, and this fiction of being Mr. Gold's 'maid' wears rather thin. What you do with your own body is your business, of course, but you have brought a child into a toxic environment, and that cannot be allowed to continue."

"And what evidence of that do you possess?" Belle demanded hotly.

"Several calls have been made to child services by several different sources."

Belle smelled a rat. "Have they now?"

"Indeed they have. I am not at liberty to divulge my sources, of course."

"Perhaps because you have none?" she shot back before she could stop herself. A giggle drifted out from the living room, but for once, knowing her daughter was happy did not make Belle smile. Instead, she crossed her arms and glared at the man standing on her doorstep. "Now, are you here to voice baseless accusations, or do you have another purpose? Because if you're just here to sprout lies, you're welcome to leave."

"Miss French, I don't think you understand the seriousness of the situation," Tollak replied, and his tone was full of arrogant superiority. "Multiple allegations of neglect have surfaced. Your daughter will be remanded into the care of my office until proof can be—"

"What?" Belle cut him off, feeling her eyes go wide and all color leave her face. "You can't take my daughter!"

"The law says I can. And I will." Tollak smiled, his grin full of teeth and vicious victory. "Bring the girl. I will take her now."

"Not if I can help it, you won'!"

Slamming the door shut in Tollak's face, Belle leaned against it for a moment, her mind whirling. She didn't know the law well enough. She didn't know anything about how the Office of Child and Family Services worked; there had never be any reason for her to learn about them! But Tollak didn't give her time to think; he started pounding on the door almost the moment it was shut, and Belle groped for her cell phone, only to remember it was charging in the kitchen. Would Tollak try to push into the house? Would he, worse yet, call the sheriff and make Emma help him with this? Belle didn't know what to do; she only knew that whatever allegations that Tollak spoke of had to be false, because obviously no one was neglecting Gabrielle. But what if this spun out of control too quickly to stop?

"Rumplestiltskin," she whispered desperately, hoping against hope that the old magic would work here and he could hear her.

She could not breathe for several moments, could only squeeze her eyes shut and listen to the pounding on the door behind her back. Belle could feel the wood vibrating against her shoulders, could hear Tollak telling her that if she didn't open the door now, things would only get worse. That she couldn't hide from the truth and—

"She slammed the door on me!" Tollak snarled loudly enough to make her pull the phone away from her ear. "And now it's locked! I can't get in, let alone get the girl."

Do I have to do everything myself? Cora wanted to demand, but managed not to. Barely. "I don't care what you have to do, dear. You will not leave there without Renee French. Do you understand?"

"I understand, but—"

"I'm not interested in excuses, Mr. Tollak." She should have taken his heart, but Tollak—Fagin, an exploiter of orphans back in their own world, too—just hadn't been important enough to bother with. Now, however, he was proving troublesome.

"I may need to find a little assistance," the little fool whined.

"What, you can't overpower one tiny woman and take a three year old?" Cora mocked him, and was not surprised that she could hear Tollak puffing up on the other end. Had things been different, she could have been a bit more explicit in her instructions, but Rumplestiltskin's damn please still lingered. Thanks to him, she couldn't harm either the French girl or her brat, but taking a child away from a horrible life wasn't harming her, was it?

"I'll do what has to be done," Tollak promised, and Cora smiled.

Rumplestiltskin.

The call burned in when he was polishing a necklace that had once belonged to Cinderella's evil stepmother and speaking idly with Marco, who had dropped by to talk about a clock that Gold sent over for repair. It made Rumplestiltskin's head snap up so fast that his neck cracked, the word sinking in to his very soul. Few enough in Storybrooke knew his true name, and fewer still would dare call for him. With this call, however, there was no doubt that he would answer, but first he had to get rid of Storybrooke's handyman. Under other circumstances, Rumplestiltskin might have just bullied the old man into leaving, but he had always felt an odd kinship with the former woodworker, particularly now that he knew Pinocchio's story, thanks to Belle.

Still, it took a few precious minutes to convince Marco to leave. But the moment the door swung shut behind the handyman, his magic swept him away before Rumplestiltskin even made a conscious decision to leave the shop.

He landed in his own front hall, to find Belle leaning against the door while someone pounded on it. Worry sliced through him, but he tried to keep his voice calm, asking:

"You called, sweetheart?"

"Rumple!" Her eyes flew open and Belle flung herself forward before he could so much as blink, burying her head against his chest. Rumplestiltskin had appeared only a few feet in front of her, and caught her easily enough, wrapping his arms around his wife. "They're trying to take Renee!"

"What?" He pulled back to look at her, rage singing in his mind already. "Who? Who is trying to take her?"

"Some man named Tollak. He says he's from the Office of Child and Family Services, and that they have reports of neglect and something about me being a single mother without a job. I didn't know what to do, or if they can even take her away, so I called you," Belle said in a rush, and Rumplestiltskin leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead as the pounding stopped.

"You did the right thing, sweetheart," he told her, his mind working furiously. "Now, let us see if we can put an end to this, shall we?"

The desire to turn Tollak—whom he knew to be Fagin, a slightly magical lowlife in their world who was more fraud than sorcerer—into something small and scaly was enormous, but Rumplestiltskin resisted the urge for now. He could probably make the man go away via other means, which would certainly be smarter. Do it anyway, his curse urged him on. Who can stop you? Who will know? The so-called heroes are sleeping, and the Savior hardly believes magic exists. No one is going to make an issue out of some scoundrel being turned into a snail. Or a snake. Perhaps that would be more appropriate.

"Thank you for coming," his wife said softly, and he felt soft lips brush his cheek.

"Always," he assured her. "You know there is nothing I would not do for my family."

Knock. Knock. KNOCK.

That pounding was going to give Rumplestiltskin a headache.

"I know," Belle replied, and Rumplestiltskin opened the door as she stepped aside to make sure there was space for both of them. Tollak stood on the doorstep, looking self important and cocky, though his expression faltered slightly when he saw Mr. Gold, whom he had only been foolish enough to cross once under the curse. Tollak had never been stupid enough to do that twice, but now here he was on Gold's doorstep, creating trouble.

"What exactly are you doing at my home, dearie?" Rumplestiltskin asked before Tollak could recover from his surprise.

"I—Mr. Gold, this is a matter between Miss French and myself. I'm sorry you have been bothered by it," the odious man replied in a hurry, looking uncomfortable.

"As am I," Rumplestiltskin bit out, digging into his cursed memories to call up Gold's cold exterior and to banish the imp that wanted to come out, all claws and fury, to rend the man before him. "Now. What appears to be the problem?"

"No problem," Tollak said quickly. "I'm just here to pick up Renee French."

"On what grounds?" Gold had been a lawyer and Rumplestiltskin could certainly draw upon that knowledge. Given to him by the curse or not, those skills were certainly relevant, and he would use what he had to.

"There have been accusations of neglect. With the way Miss French remains unemployed and as a, uh, 'guest' in your home, there are…concerns about Miss French's suitability as a mother. Clearly, she cannot properly provide for her child, which is where my office must step in."

"And what legal basis do you have to do so?" he demanded.

"Storybrooke law states that children must be removed from precarious situations such as this right away," Tollak replied, and Rumplestiltskin racked his mind to see if that was the case. He couldn't remember anything like that, but then, he wasn't surprised. Cora still had enough power over the curse to change little things like that.

"She's not in a 'precarious' situation!" Belle burst out before Rumplestiltskin could respond, and for once, he cursed his wife's impulsive nature. Usually, Belle's intelligence got the better of her rashness, but there were moments… "She's in a home where she is loved and cared for!"

"Evidence suggests otherwise, Miss French," the little worm replied importantly, and Rumplestiltskin wanted to strangle him. Or rip his heart out. That would have been nice.

"I'd like to see that evidence," Rumplestiltskin cut in before Belle could say something else. "Before I let you do anything."

"I'm afraid that isn't your business, Mr. Gold," Tollak said, obviously trying to sound regretful. And failing.

"He's my lawyer," Belle said quickly, and Rumplestiltskin could have kissed her. That put him soundly in the middle of things, and he should have thought of it himself.

Tollak snorted with laughter. "Is that what they're calling it these days?"

"If you're going to accuse me of something, dear, I recommend you do so to my face," Rumplestiltskin growled, fury surging within him. Belle squeezed his arm, which served to throttle back some of his rage, but not much.

"I have no desire to do so, of course," was the smarmy response. "I am simply here to do my duty and retrieve the child."

A beat up pickup truck stopped in front of the house before either Rumplestiltskin or Belle could reply, and Keith Law stepped out, grinning from ear to ear. The temptation to throw a fireball at the odious sheriff's deputy was high, but somehow Rumplestiltskin managed to stop himself. That bastard had come onto Belle more times than either of them could count, and had tried to rape Lacey while under the curse. He was still the same rat who had tried to buy Belle back in the Enchanted Forest, too, and neither of them would ever forget that. Now, however, he seemed there to back up Tollak's attempt to take their daughter away, which made Rumplestiltskin hate him with the fire of a thousand suns.

"Having problems, Mr. Tollak?" Keith called cheerfully. "Lacey French can be a handful. I should know."

"Oh, I don't think so, Deputy," was the smiling response. Tollak looked like a man who thought he had won, smug and full of himself. "Everything seems to be under control, but I thank you for your concern."

A toothy grin; Keith was close enough that they could smell the alcohol wafting off of him. "Just here to do my public service and all."

"What exactly are your grounds for doing so again?" Rumplestiltskin cut in testily as Keith sauntered up to stand next to Tollak.

"There are allegations of neglect," Tollak replied impatiently. "No child should be forced to live in a home where her unwed mother whores herself out to a rich man for a few favors. One can only imagine how the poor little girl gets…lost in such a life. Or in the way, constantly underfoot and annoying."

The way he looked at Rumplestiltskin indicated that he felt Gold should be thankful for his intervention, and that shocked Rumplestiltskin enough to keep his blood from boiling for several long moments. Stupefied, he just stared at the heavyset man for a moment, his mind running through which of his various options would solve this problem the fastest. That, of course, provided time for another car to pull up in front of his house. Emma Swan exited the yellow bug and stormed up the walk, her suspicious eyes focused on Keith. Belle, however, clearly wasn't going to wait on the sheriff to arrive, or for Rumplestiltskin to respond to that wholly offensive comment, before snapping back:

"How dare you imply that I'm taking less care of my daughter because I live here?" she snarled. "Where I live—and who I live with—has no bearing on how I raise my child! Unless you have evidence, you're welcome to leave."

"I can arrest her for interference, if you want," Keith volunteered. "Both cells are full, but I can come up with someplace…special to keep her. If you know what I mean."

"You've got to be kidding me." Belle rolled her eyes, but Keith stepped forward, leering.

"Come find out, Lacey. You wouldn't want to interfere in legal matters—or would you?" And then the fool reached out to grab her by the arm.

Rumplestiltskin, however, was no longer crippled. And Keith's actions had shaken him out of his intellectually-fueled lethargy, and Rumplestiltskin stepped forward to grab the larger man by the elbow. Hard.

"Lay one hand on her, dearie, and I'll make sure you never use that hand again," he said softly.

Startled, the sheriff's deputy blinked at Rumplestiltskin, clearly never having thought he might step in the way. Keith Law was many things: inebriated, conceited, and none too bright, but he was also bigger than Rumplestiltskin by a rather significant margin. He was also used to being able to bully anyone he chose, which meant he sneered when he looked down at the smaller man.

"You're interfering in an arrest, Gold," Keith said, but ruined the threatening tone with a slightly drunken slur.

"You don't have anything to charge her with," he snorted derisively. "And until you come back with a warrant, you're not welcome on my property. So get out."

He knew Keith wasn't likely to listen, of course, which was why Rumplestiltskin was already gathering magic to himself. Dark magic was a little harder to manage in this world, what with the way True Love shaped magic here, but he could still come up with a thousand and one nasty ways to be rid of Keith Law, most of which would even satisfy his raging curse. Belle, however, must have sensed that, because he suddenly felt her hand land between his shoulder blades, her touch soothing and gentle.

"You can't make me—" Keith started, only to have his own boss cut him off.

"What the hell is going on here?" Emma demanded, reaching the group.

"I'm simply trying to do my duty, Sheriff," Tollak piped up piously. "The law says that an employed single mother who is engaged in risky behavior should be investigated for any incidents of neglect. Several reports have surfaced, so I am here to collect the child."

"You're here to what?" the sheriff said, as if she couldn't believe her ears. Rumplestiltskin felt an unexpected flash of admiration for her, then; Emma Swan might be the most stubborn woman he could possibly have chosen to make into the Savior, but she did have her moments.

"Well, it's obvious that Miss French cannot pay for proper care for her daughter, and Mr. Gold is in no way liable for doing so—and nor should he be," Tollak smiled innocently. "As such, it is clear that the girl isn't receiving proper care, so she'll be remanded into my custody. Immediately."

"Over my dead body," Belle growled, just as Emma asked incredulously:

"You're going to take a child away from a mother who loves her because her place of work burned down?"

"Pity is not in my job description."

"Neither is compassion!" Belle snarled back, and now it was Rumplestiltskin's turn to lay a hand on her arm.

"Do contain yourself, Miss French, or I will be forced to have you removed," Tollak replied, and Rumplestiltskin could see the anticipation gleaming in his eyes.

"I'm not letting you take my child. She's perfectly well cared for here!"

"Let's not beat around the bush, shall we? You're Mr. Gold's live-in whore. What time do you have for a child?" Tollak dropped his bomb with a smile, and Belle went white.

Rumplestiltskin, however, could keep quiet no longer. "She's not my whore, dear," he snarled. "She's my wife."

"The hell she is," Keith giggled.

"Would you like to see our marriage license?" Rumplestiltskin retorted, his curse screaming for him to do something terrible to the pair. But Emma's presence stopped him. He needed the Savior to be at least neutral to him. He couldn't afford to find himself in jail, not when they were so damn close. He smiled darkly. "Or perhaps you'd like to see the legal documents proving we share joint custody of our daughter."

All three of their visitors looked shocked, but the sheriff recovered fastest. "Tollak, this has gone far enough," Emma said strongly. "Leave them alone, all right?"

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Sheriff," the weasel said, not at all regretfully. "I have a court order to take Renee French away today and a bed ready for her at Fagin's. Even if Miss French's 'circumstances' have changed, they'll have to fight that out in court. Later, of course."

And Tollak pulled out his trump card.

A/N: Contest time! Whomever can guess how long FOTS currently is (word count in Microsoft Word, not AO3 or FFN), I'll give you the spoiler of your choice - or sneak preview at any scene that I've already written. For the record, I've just started writing chapter 70. This little contest will run through the next update on Friday. But make sure you're logged in for your review, or I can't PM the winner!

Next up: Chapter Sixty-Three—"The Price of Protection," Rumplestiltskin cashes in a favor, Emma confronts Cora, Regina meets Zelena, Mary Margaret runs into difficulties with David, and Hook decides to go after Belle. Back in the past, Cora goes to Rumplestiltskin to get the Dark Curse, and then Charming goes to Rumplestiltskin behind Snow's back.