Chapter Sixty-Five—"Irons in the Fire"

Emma was a fan of doing research before arresting anyone, and she'd discovered two witnesses to Lacey French's fall. Or was she Belle Gold, now? Everyone having two names was so damn confusing, so Emma figured she'd stick with the ones that were legal at the moment. Regardless, she spoke to both witness and found their stories were the same; Granny had been outside and had actually seen O'Malley hit Lacey, albeit distantly, which really made the entire matter pretty cut and dried. Fortunately, Granny hadn't seen O'Malley push the librarian, which at least meant Emma didn't have to arrest him for more than assault. That, of course, made things extra awkward since he'd just told her a deep and dark secret about the Basement a few days earlier—and damn it all if Emma hadn't lost track of that! Still, she had a job to do, and she was going to do it.

She remembered Lacey's words to Gold, and Emma had promised to deal with the situation. She had no doubt that the Golds would want to press charges, even if it only wound up being a civil suit, and that meant she headed to the marina first thing in the morning of February 27th. She wasn't exactly looking forward to this, but the job was the job, and Emma hadn't signed on to be sheriff because she'd thought it would be easy. Though I did really think that this town wasn't full of magic and fairytale characters back then, she reflected. And now she really believed it was. Wasn't life insane?

"Swan," Killian O'Malley looked up in surprise as Emma walked into his office, smiling broadly. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this fine morning?"

"I'm afraid this isn't a social call." And damn it if things weren't a lot harder when she'd gone on a date with this man, even if it had ended in a murder. I'm so glad I didn't go on more than one!

"Oh? Why's that, love?"

"Because you're under arrest." Emma had never been a big believer in beating around the bush, but Killian jerked back in surprise.

"For what?"

"Assault," she replied bluntly. "You attacked Lacey French."

That seemed to take him aback. "Emma, I don't know what you think happened, but—"

"Save it for your lawyer," she cut him off. "I saw Lacey fall, and witnesses saw you hit her and try to grab her. The only real question here is if I have to handcuff you or not."

"No." The marina owner shook his head. "I'll come quietly. I'm sure we'll be able to clear up this misunderstanding soon enough."

"Call it whatever you want, but you're still under arrest," Emma replied, and read him his rights.

Somehow, she did not find it odd that, once they got to the station, Killian chose to use his one phone call to call the mayor.

"I don't like it," Rumplestiltskin grumbled for what even he knew was the tenth or twelfth time. Generally speaking, he wasn't prone to repeating himself, and the fact that he was doing so meant that he was very unhappy. Downright furious, in fact. Burning to kill someone—but only a very specific someone. Even if his curse was not so picky at the moment and would have settled for anyone at all. "I told you that damn pirate would go after you."

"I don't think he truly meant to push me, Rumple," Belle replied, starting to sound a little annoyed. "He hit me, yes, but—"

"But I'd like to cut his hand off again for that. Or worse," he growled. Kill him, his curse whispered. Finish what you started. Do it!

"Rumple."

"Sweetheart, I won't stand for this. Not him going after you," he said, sitting up on the couch and turning to face her. Damn Belle for being so clever as not to tell him who had hit her—and caused her fall!—until after she'd secured his promise to let the sheriff take care of things. "I won't lose you to that pirate."

"You're not going to," his wife said forcefully, grabbing his hands. "I am not Milah."

"I never said you were!" That thought had been the furthest from his mind, unless it was to think that Hook would cheerfully destroy this marriage of his, too.

"And I'm fine," Belle stressed, squeezing his fingers hard. Her touch served to calm his fury a little. But only a little. She continued evenly: "You saw to that, remember? And you promised."

"Belle…"

He had promised, and that was the worst part. Everything inside him—and his curse, most of all—ached to go exact bloody vengeance on Hook. The bastard had hurt Belle, had made her fall from a distance that could have killed her, all because he was looking for the dagger. And yes, while Rumplestiltskin could intellectually understand Hook's need for revenge (assuming the pirate had actually loved Milah), he wasn't about to let that get in the way of protecting Belle. Hook needed to understand that there were consequences to his actions, and that Rumplestiltskin would not, under any circumstances, allow this to go unpunished.

"Look at it this way," his wife pointed out logically. "If you go after him, that tells him what I mean to you. Didn't you once tell me that the longer he was in the dark, the better? Particularly since we both know he's in Cora's pocket?"

He hated it when she was right, and that must have shown on his expression. Belle, however, leaned in to kiss him lightly on the lips, which helped erase his mutinous pout. Some of it.

"If Emma doesn't deal with this…" he trailed off, trying to rein in the howling of his curse in his mind. It was still furious, still raging, and he wanted to rage with it. But Belle was right. Damn it.

"She will. Besides, she knows about this now, and you can't afford to have the Savoir thinking you're some cold blooded evil sorcerer."

"I am a cold blooded evil sorcerer," Rumplestiltskin retorted petulantly.

"No, you're a dark sorcerer," Belle corrected him, kissing the knuckles of his right hand. "With a good heart. You need her on your side, Rumple, or at least not hating you."

A sigh escaped, and he slumped. "I hate it when you're right."

"No you don't," Belle grinned. "Because then I get to thank you for being nice."

"I'm not nice."

"Then you don't want a thank you?" Belle asked, shifting to sit in his lap. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and Rumplestiltskin knew his cause was utterly lost.

Then again, perhaps forgoing vengeance was not such a terrible thing. Not right now, anyway. He had always been good at the long game. Provided Hook stayed away from Belle from here on out, there would be plenty of time to deal with the pirate when the curse broke. Then Hook would, predictably, openly align himself with Cora. The heroes would want him out of the way at that point, and that would give Rumplestiltskin freedom to act without losing the allies he needed. He didn't want to need the nauseatingly good heroes, but Belle was right in pointing out that he did. For now, anyway. Once they could leave to find Baelfire, that wouldn't matter, but until then… Well, at least giving in had its advantages, particularly now when Belle was unbuttoning his shirt.

Pleasant advantages they were, too.

Conrad Rivulet really was a shady piece of work. He was a smooth-talking, too-handsome lawyer who seemed represent all the worst scum, and just watching him walk into the station that morning really made Emma scowl.

"I thought you were done taking statements from those two," she greeted him, jerking her head at Moe French and Tony Rose. She'd had to put Gold's assailants together in one cell now that Killian was locked in the other one, but at least Emma knew those two liked one another. But, really, why in the world couldn't this town have more than two jail cells?

"Actually, I'm here to represent Mr. O'Malley," Conrad replied in his slightly-accented voice. His smile was just a tad too perfect, and the dark gray suit he wore was just a little too polished. Jafar, Emma told herself, studying the man. Henry says he's Jafar.

Well, Conrad sure didn't look like the pointy-headed villain with the awful headpiece from the Aladdin movie, but Emma had long ago realized that the people here in Storybrooke didn't always look like their Disney counterparts. Some of them did—Mary Margaret and Lacey came straight to mind on that front, as did Ella—but a lot of them were very different. Like, apparently, Jafar. Though he certainly is smooth and clever enough to fit the bill.

"What, does the mayor have you on speed dial?" Emma asked before she could stop herself.

Conrad shrugged eloquently. "Of course not. But I've worked with Mr. O'Malley before on a few minor issues, and I'm always happy to represent a friend. I did stop by and speak to Judge Herman earlier, and he's already set bail. It's been paid."

"The D.A. barely had a chance to get over there!"

"Here's the receipt." Another shrug. "I trust everything is in order and I can escort my client out of here? Mr. O'Malley is hardly a danger to anyone, after all."

"He assaulted the librarian," Emma retorted dryly.

"Allegedly. And her fall was not his fault," the lawyer immediately countered. "No, since the paperwork is in order, Sheriff, I trust I won't have to file an obstruction-of-justice case against you?"

"Of course not." She rolled her eyes and grabbed the keys to the cell Killian was lounging in. "Just keep out of trouble, will you?"

The last part was directed at the still-too-attractive marina owner, who stood up gracefully.

"I've no intention of creating any trouble, love," he replied immediately. "And I'm sorry to have put you in this position. My conduct towards Ms. French was inexcusable, and I'm prepared to make amends in any way I can."

"Tell her that," Emma replied, but Tony Rose spoke up before Killian could reply.

"Conrad, man, why can't you get us out on bail?"

It was a good question; Tony was one of the ten or so richest people in Storybrooke (Conrad Rivulet, Emma had learned a few days earlier, was the fifth), and yet he was still languishing in that cell while Killian waltzed through the now-open door to collect his belongings. Of course, Tony's crime had been a lot more vicious and definitely pre-meditated, but that didn't always matter in Storybrooke.

"Probably because you've openly admitted to your misdeeds instead of keeping your mouth shut," Conrad—Jafar—retorted easily. "Mr. O'Malley had the sense to make a call and resist the urge to brag."

"We did the town a service. We—"

"Thank you for proving my point," the lawyer interjected smoothly, and gestured Killian towards the door. He shot Emma a smile. "I'll be seeing you again, Sherriff."

"I bet you will," Emma groaned, and returned to her paperwork as Tony Rose started whining again. She really would be glad to see the backs of those two, but their trial wasn't scheduled to take place for another month at the earliest.

5 Months Before the Curse

Snow might have relented faster than David had expected, but that didn't mean finding this legendary outlaw was easy. However, David finally found the camp of the Merry Men, and promptly found himself set upon by a group of three outlaws, whom he had a heck of a time convincing to take him to see Robin Hood. Fortunately, although he was a prince (and technically a king) these days, David had been born a plain shepherd and knew how to act like he was neither rich nor important. He also knew how to hide his valuables from thieves.

"Little John said that a knight wanted to see me," a deep voice said from behind him, and David turned.

"I'm not a knight," he replied honestly. "Merely a man in need of a thief."

"Well, you certainly found yourself a den of thieves, but we're not for hire," Robin Hood replied, giving David an odd look.

"He said you'd say that."

"Who?" Robin asked.

"Rumplestiltskin," David answered, reaching into his to doublet to pull out a letter, only to freeze when the outlaw's bow came up, arrow notched and ready to shoot. The Merry Men had taken David's weapons before they allowed him into the camp, but it wasn't as if he could have easily defended himself from an arrow shot at close range, anyway. All he could do was take a deep breath, not make any sudden moves, and hope that Robin Hood's fingers weren't itching.

"He sent you," the outlaw grated out from between gritted teeth.

"Not exactly," he said slowly, carefully. "He did recommend you, though. Said you're an excellent thief, even if you don't always keep your deals."

"I—that was a different time," Robin said quickly, and David saw a mix of conflicted emotions crossing his face. "I was a different man."

"That's probably something I understand better than you know," David replied wryly. "Look, I'm not here to endanger you. I need your help, and I have something that I think you'll want in exchange."

"What exactly is that?" The bow didn't precisely lower, but Robin did relax a little.

"A signed promise from Rumplestiltskin that he'll forget about the deal you broke, so long as you help me."

"And how in the world would you get something like that?"

"I made a deal of my own. I can't afford to hide in the forest to avoid the Dark One finding me," David said frankly. "I have a family to protect, and this is the way to do it—and to get his help. I need it."

"There are safer ways to get help, you know," Robin pointed out, finally lowering his bow and replacing the arrow in his quiver. "But if you've made a deal with him, I can't help you get out of it."

"That's not what I'm looking for. I'm looking for someone to help me break into Maleficent's castle," he replied. "I hear you've done it before, and if you help me, you can be free and clear of that broken deal with Rumplestiltskin. Look, he's written this himself, and I can stand surety for it."

"You? The knight who isn't a knight?"

Could an outlaw be more stubborn? There were moments where David thought that Rumplestiltskin had sent him here as part of some cosmic joke, that the Dark One's sense of humor had gotten the better of him. He had intended to keep his identity a secret, but there was definitely no way to do that with Robin Hood. The man was too clever, and far too unprepared to trust even Rumplestiltskin's word. Yet he survived breaking a deal with him, David thought. That means he's very clever or very lucky. Frankly, I need both. Otherwise, trying to store this bottle away will be the death of us both.

"Well, I never said that I wasn't a king," he finally said with a shrug. "Will that help?"

Robin stared at him for a moment before bursting out laughing. "Really?"

"I'm afraid so."

It was a confusing beginning to a friendship, but a beginning none the same.

She didn't know where else to go.

Logic said that this was the last place Mary Margaret should go after Francis Scadlock had oh-so-gloatingly just happened to mention that he had seen David out with Kathryn Cole, had seen them holding hands and even kissing outside the animal shelter. She hadn't believed him until Granny admitted that David had appeared to bring Kathryn to the diner on a date—not on one of Mary Margaret's shifts, of course. Even Jefferson confessed to seeing them together when she pressed him, and that certainly wasn't what Mary Margaret expected to hear. Normally, she would have gone home with her confused grief, but Emma was off checking up on Graham, and Mary Margaret knew that the former sheriff needed Emma more than she did right now. He'd been crippled and he was still living alone. Mary Margaret had just had her heart broken. Again.

So, she went to Regina, the absolute last person she should turn to. After all, David was Regina's husband. He was already cheating on Regina with Mary Margaret. What right did Mary Margaret have to go crying to the wronged wife when David proved to be a cheater twice over?

"I don't know what to do," she admitted quietly, after the story had come pouring out to Regina and the pair were sitting on the couch together. "I want to believe Henry's theory about a curse, but is that only because I want to believe that David and I are fated to love one another, that we're really other people who were happily married? Am I just lying to myself?"

"No, you aren't," Regina said softly. "Look Sn—Mary Margaret, I don't know what's going on. But I'll get to the bottom of it. This isn't like David."

"I didn't think it was, but everyone saw him!" she sobbed before she could stop herself. "If it was just Scadlock, I'd think he was lying, but…"

"Because Scadlock is my mother's creature, yes," the older woman agreed with a scowl. "But I doubt Mother could have gotten Granny to lie for her, even if Jefferson knuckled under. So, whatever happened, they were definitely in the diner together. And I'll find out why."

Mary Margaret worked hard to swallow back another sob, but she couldn't not whisper: "Why are you helping me?"

"Because you're my sister," Regina replied bluntly. "Even if you don't remember it. I'll always look out for you."

"Really?" She'd been alone for so much of her life, and even when she'd tried not to be, she'd always messed it up. Having Emma as a roommate was a godsend, but Mary Margaret could never forget that she was supposed to be Emma's mother. That made it hard to lean on the other woman, even though Emma seemed to make that ridiculously easy. Right now, however, Regina was offering her a shoulder to cry on, a friend and a sister.

"Really," Regina reassured her, and Mary Margaret didn't try to pull back when Regina drew her into a hug. "We'll find out what David is doing. I have a feeling that there's more to this than meets the eye."

"It won't work," August said bluntly, fidgeting uneasily under the Blue Fairy's stare. "Me playing Baelfire, I mean."

Frowning, 'Mother Superior' primly folded her hands on the desk in front of her. "Why not?"

"Because Lacey French—or Lacey Gold now, I guess; I looked up their marriage certificate down at City Records—knows who I am. She came by my room at Granny's on Valentine's Day and kind of, um, cornered me."

"And you've waited this long to tell me why?" Blue demanded.

"I had other things on my mind."

Fortunately, Blue wasn't as good at detecting lies as Emma was, because August really didn't have any reasons to tell her the truth. Sure, he knew that she was the epitome of goodness and light in their world, but she had asked him to tell a terrible and dangerous lie. Maybe August would have done it if he hadn't been caught; he was selfish enough to admit that the idea of gaining control of the Dark One—and getting the wooden tide turned back!—certainly appealed to him. But if Lacey/Belle/whoever she really was knew who he was and was willing to tell Gold…well, that idea fell apart around him, and August really was too self-centered to commit suicide like that.

"Pinocchio, child, breaking the curse and protecting the Savior is of the utmost importance! You cannot allow yourself to be distracted by worldly desires."

"I'm not," August snapped before he could stop himself. What I am is being puppeteered by the Evil Queen, and if I tell you that, she'll kill my papa. "Emma's difficult, okay? And she really doesn't want to trust me anymore."

"Then you must find a way to make her trust you," Blue replied oh-so-helpfully. "Because we are all depending upon you."

"Well, maybe you picked the wrong guy for that," he retorted, jumping to his feet and hobbling towards the door. "Because I'm really not what you're looking for."

He left before the chief fairy could say another word, feeling guilty, terrified, and so very alone.

"You weren't in the shop yesterday," Regina snapped testily. Fortunately, Rumplestiltskin was alone today; his former student had a tendency of walking in and starting talking at the same time, all without bothering to notice who might be listening.

"My wife was assaulted," he replied drily, rolling his eyes. "Pardon me for closing up for the day after that."

"I heard. Emma said you came in and healed her, which means she's fine."

"Your compassion warms my heart," Rumplestiltskin said, laying on the sarcasm a bit more thickly than usual; Regina was apparently a little hard headed today. But his student-turned-friend (and almost daughter) merely rolled her eyes.

"You wouldn't be here if she wasn't, and the pirate wouldn't be breathing in that case, either," she pointed out. "Though I have to say that it probably does you some good to be wrapped around Belle's little finger, if it stops you from murdering people."

That made Rumplestiltskin see red, and for a moment, his curse screamed at him to take his frustrations out on Regina. But he pushed the desire back with an effort. "Very few would have missed him," he replied, rolling his eyes. "Probably only your mother."

"Except Emma's the sheriff, and she has a hard time condoning murder," Regina pointed out. "You're the one who wanted the lynch mobs to stay away from you. Murder's not the best way to make sure the Savior doesn't actively hate you, you know."

She had a point, though Rumplestiltskin was not about to admit that. So, instead he just asked: "What did you come here for, dear?"

"We needed to talk. Mother's got her magic back, and I think she's gathering allies."

"Well, that was only a matter of time," he replied automatically, then noticed the hitch in Regina's voice and the uncertainty in her expression. "Woke Zelena up, did she?"

"You knew?"

"That you had an actual sister? Of course I did. There's very little I don't," Rumplestiltskin pointed out.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Regina demanded, and for a moment, he thought she might cry.

"Honestly? I thought that revelation should come from your mother," he said carefully, realizing just how close to the edge Regina was. Zelena was off-putting at the best of times, but Regina had always valued family. She'd made herself a family when the one nature had given her failed, and finding out that she'd had a real sister all along must have been a knife through the gut.

"But…but you knew," his former student whispered, looking broken. The next question was more accusatory: "Is she yours?"

"No! Most definitely not." Slowly, Rumplestiltskin came around the counter to stand in front of her. "Regina…I knew about your sister, and I taught her magic, as I did you. Zelena I taught as a favor to your mother. You I taught because I wanted to."

Being so honest was tricky; Rumplestiltskin was rarely comfortable telling complete truths, and although this one certainly left out key elements—like how he had started teaching both sisters as possible curse casters—the important parts were absolutely honest. He had kept teaching Regina because he wanted to, because she'd become something almost like a daughter to him. He'd never meant to let her in, but somehow Regina had crept her way into his blackened heart, because Rumplestiltskin had never quite been able to shake the knowledge that she should have been his. Had he shaped her into the monster he'd originally intended to, he doubted that he would cherish quite so many tender feelings towards her, but he hadn't. In the end, Cora had been plenty monster to get the job done, and in some ways, Rumplestiltskin was grateful for that.

"Do I have any other mystery siblings out there?" she responded after a moment, sounding slightly mollified by his answer.

"None I know of."

"Zelena's crazy," Regina said next, as if daring him to argue.

Rumplestiltskin snorted softly. "Certifiably."

"She wanted to rip Henry's heart out!"

"Did she?" That would pose a problem, and not only because Regina would do anything to keep her son safe. Including side with Cora.

"No, thankfully. Mother said something about how I'll have much more to lose if the curse breaks, and that they should wait," was the quiet response. But there was steel in Regina's voice, a steel that hadn't been there in the Enchanted Forest. She'd been brave enough back then, but now she was stronger. Harder. Regina had made a decision to fight her mother, and she was not going to back down. That much was plain in her eyes when she met his gaze levelly. "But I'm not letting that happen. I'll make whatever deal I need to make with you, right now, to keep him safe."

"I'm no threat to your son, Regina," he replied quietly, a little stung that she thought he might endanger a child. Whatever else Rumplestiltskin had always been, he'd never victimized children. Traded for, yes, but every child he got in a deal had gone on to a better home.

"I didn't think you were. But I'll still make a deal with you." She squared her shoulders. "I'll protect your daughter to the best of my ability if you will do the same for my son. Against Mother or whomever else threatens them."

Rumplestiltskin never hesitated: "You have a deal."

"Look, Tamara, it's just a visit to a couple of old friends," Neal found himself saying uneasily, looking at his girlfriend. She arched an eyebrow in return, standing with her arms crossed and obviously not buying his story.

"Why on such short notice, then?" she asked.

"One of them might be in a little trouble," he explained evasively. He wanted to trust Tamara with the story, but how could he explain what Emma had meant to him? Hell, Neal wasn't exactly sure what Emma meant to him now, only that he couldn't leave her in danger. Of course, he was in love with Tamara. They'd been dating for months, and Tamara was a great girl. She was everything Neal Cassidy could have wanted: smart, fun-loving, and with a wicked sense of humor. She was also completely and utterly normal. It wasn't her fault that his memories of Emma had a tendency of making her look inadequate.

"What kind of trouble?"

"Nothing I can't handle," Neal replied, trying to shrug and make it seem unimportant. "August is just the kind of guy whose lies pile up, and sometimes he needs someone to bail him out," he added, not quite lying himself.

Not that he really considered August a friend. August was the man who had convinced him—to his everlasting shame and regret—to leave Emma behind. He should have stayed with her, or should have gone to jail for her at the very least. Instead, he'd let his own fears drive him away, and how stupid was that? He feared someone that he had once loved, someone who had to be dead by now. And even if his father was alive, it wasn't like his father had actually ever hurt him. Rumplestiltskin had been many things: smothering, overprotective, and paranoid included, but he'd never harmed his son. Just other people. Besides, it shouldn't ever have been about me. It's about Emma, and when she needed help, I left her. Neal wouldn't make that mistake twice.

"You promised you'd be here this week," Tamara said next, and that made Neal blink.

"I did?"

"Yes, silly. Remember? My friend Roberta is coming into town on Friday." Stepping forward, Tamara put her hands on his chest. "She's my oldest friend, and you said that you'd be around to meet her. She's like a sister to me." Tamara's voice dropped a bit, and then she said the one thing sure to get him to capitulate: "I didn't think you believed in breaking promises."

"I don't—I just…ah," Neal stuttered. "Did I really promise that?"

Tamara met his gaze levelly, and he couldn't detect a lie. "You did."

And August had said Emma was fine, hadn't he? He'd said 'for now', but August had also promised to let him know if things went south. Neal could probably afford a couple more days in New York before he headed to Maine. After all, he wasn't sure if there was anything left to salvage between him and Emma, and he was supposed to be in love with Tamara. And he was. Most of the time. So, he did what any sane boyfriend would do: he gave in.

"I'll put my trip off for a few days," he promised. "And meet Roberta like I promised. I'm sure my friends are fine. August has always been a bit of a drama queen, anyway."

"You're the best!" Tamara darted in for a kiss, and left soon after that, heading to work. Neal, however, usually worked from home—he was a hacker for hire, though nowadays on the right side of the law. People paid him to find the flaws in their websites' security, which actually paid pretty well, all things considered. Besides, any job he could do while wearing nothing but his pajama pants had to be a good one, and he loved the flexible hours.

Still, he pulled out his phone and called August again after Tamara left, just to make sure things were okay. But the call went to voicemail after only a few rings.

"August, man, you really know how to not be there when someone needs you, don't you?" he grumbled after the beep. "Look, give me a call back. I've got to spend a few more days here in New York and then I'll head north, but let me know if anything's changed, all right?"

What August couldn't tell him, of course was why Neal spent a good deal longer thinking of the ex-girlfriend he'd abandoned than he did the girl he was supposed to be dating. He'd never forgotten Emma and never stopped regretting his own cowardly decisions…and there would always be a part of him that loved her. Was that something he should tell Tamara? Should he be honest with her, or even just call it quits? Tamara had been acting increasingly strange lately, even before he'd started talking about going to Maine, and Neal wasn't quite sure if he liked this 'new' Tamara. Maybe it was just time to end this before she started talking about marriage again.

"Who is she, Mother?" Zelena asked, trying not to sigh. They had both noticed, of course, the speed at which Rumplestiltskin had arrived to heal his little maid, and Zelena didn't like it one bit. Her mother's relationship with the Dark One seemed very complicated, and although Zelena knew she should leave him to Mother—particularly since Mother seemed a wee bit possessive where Rumplestiltskin was concerned—she couldn't help herself.

"Be patient, darling," Cora smiled in return. "We'll deal with her in time."

"She's nothing," she scoffed. "I don't even think she has magic. His tastes certainly have done downhill."

A beautifully manicured hand patted her arm, and the slight touch warmed Zelena's heart. "There's no need to rush things. Revenge is best when well thought out and meticulously planned. Rumple will pay for betraying both of us. I promise."

"Oh, I know you'd never let me down," Zelena gushed. "I'm just so…angry at him."

And jealous, but she wouldn't say that out loud. She knew her mother's plans, and Zelena was absolutely not going to get in the way. After all, her mother was trusting her! Cora had told Zelena how she planned to get the dagger, and Zelena would help her execute all of her plans. Even if that meant she couldn't have everything she wanted, Zelena was certain that her mother would make up for that. Cora always did.

Still, that didn't mean she couldn't do a bit of research on her own, first.

It didn't take a genius to realize where Ruby had disappeared to, and Belle was no fool. She'd asked Rumple to check into it, and he had, calling in a minor favor that Judge Herman owed him to confirm that Lacey's best friend was indeed in the Basement. Belle had almost thrown caution to the wind and asked her husband to get Ruby out of there, no matter what the cost, but she'd barely managed to stop herself. Rumplestiltskin would do it if she asked him, but it also seemed like Emma and Regina were plotting to get everyone out of the Basement, so perhaps it was better if she just found a way to help them.

Not that she wanted to leave Ruby there a second longer than she had to, but Belle understood that sparking a war in Storybrooke now, before everyone was awake, was in no one's best interests. Cora had gathered too many allies and had proven that she had the ability to wake up anyone she wanted, whenever she wanted, which was a skill that their side could not replicate. That meant it would be Rumple and Regina against anyone Cora was able to bring to her side, and Belle wasn't so reckless that she never noted the odds against them. So, she swallowed hard and hoped against hope that the sheriff would act soon, accepting the D.A.'s proposal of a plea bargain for Killian "O'Malley" so that Emma didn't get tied down investigating the way the pirate had assaulted her.

Belle didn't like the man, and she never would, but if doing that kept Emma's attention on the Basement, it was a trade she was willing to make.

Emma really had too many irons in the fire right now. How in the world was she supposed to break a curse when she had an assault case going, two idiot would-be murderers in jail (the fools kept talking themselves into more serious charges), a depressed roommate, and Ruby apparently having been kidnapped and taken to the uber-secret Basement. She felt horrible for having left it for so long, but Killian really had only given her that information four days earlier. It felt like a lifetime had passed since then, yet hardly any time had passed at all.

Still, she needed to talk to Regina and find out if Regina's idea had panned out.

"Emma? Why are you calling so late?" her friend answered on the second ring.

"I didn't wake you up, did I?" she replied guilty, only then noticing that it was past eleven in the evening.

"No, I was trying to talk to your idiot father. What's up?"

On other days, Emma might have jumped down that rabbit hole, but right now she didn't have time. "We talked a couple days ago about something that you said you might have an idea for. Any progress?"

"What…oh, damn," Regina cursed. "No. I haven't even talked to him yet. I'm sorry. Everything has just been insane. I had a hell of a day."

"I get that," Emma said feelingly. "Can you, um, try to talk to whoever it is soon? I don't want to wait any longer than we have to."

"Yeah, I'll do it as soon as I can. Promise."

"Thanks, Regina."

They were curled up in bed the next morning, just drowsing in one another's arms, when the phone rang. Tucked in against his chest, Belle grumbled something incoherent and frustrated, and then sleepily grabbed a hold of Rumplestiltskin when he started to roll away to answer the annoyingly chirping phone. Unwilling to twist free of her, and mentally cursing whoever felt the need to call his house at six in the morning, he flicked his wrist and the phone flew into his hand.

"Yes?" he asked gruffly.

"Meet me for dinner at La Tandoor at seven. Tonight, dear," the cold voice on the other end told him, and Rumplestiltskin felt the magic wrapping around him even before he could find his voice to reply.

"What?" he snapped, suddenly fully awake and heart pounding. Cora wasn't such a fool, was she? Surely, she didn't think she could resume her same old games, not when he had magic and could flatten her like a bug.

"Oh, don't be so frightened," she laughed softly, and he could have killed her then and there. "This is just a dinner date, Rumple. I thought we should catch up."

"I have no desire to go on a date with you," Rumplestiltskin snapped, and felt Belle jerk awake. Wide blue eyes stared at him, and he felt a small hand move to his side, landing comfortingly on his hip.

"I never asked what you wanted, did I?"

"Cora—"

"Tonight, dear," she repeated, and the magic sank in even deeper. No, he couldn't get out of it. Using a 'please' now would only tie the curse in a knot he could ill afford to create, and even then, he'd probably lose. But he could keep things from spiraling out of control. Couldn't he?

"Fine," he snarled, and turned to slam the phone down. Doing so let him look away from Belle, gave him a moment to force back the sheer terror that threatened to consume him.

Kill her tonight. Shove those caveats down her throat, his curse whispered. Your plans will survive her death. Kill Cora. Kill Cora or unite with Cora. There is no middle—

With an effort, Rumplestiltskin jerked his mind away from the terrible inner voice, unable to deal with its tempting litany while he fought back his own fears. Belle, however, seemed to sense his inner conflict, because she snuggled up against his back, arms wrapping around his waist from behind.

"That was Cora, wasn't it?" she asked gently, and he could only nod, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to push aside the memories of pain and fears of what might come. Lips touched the back of his shoulder. "Oh, Rumple. What does she want?"

"I don't know. Dinner," he replied raggedly. "I think I can stop it from becoming anything else."

"You can," his wife said softly. "I believe in you."

"I wish I did," Rumplestiltskin admitted. "I wish I wasn't—" He cut off.

"Afraid?" Belle asked, but her voice held none of the condemnation that Milah's would have, none of the self-loathing he felt.

"Yeah."

"Fear doesn't make you a coward, you know," she told him. "There's a writer in this world who said that 'there can be no courage unless you're scared'. You're not a coward for being afraid of her, Rumple. She hurt you terribly. You'd have to be insane not to fear what she could do."

"I'm not afraid of her," he snapped more viciously than he meant to, but Belle just squeezed him. Words stuck in his mouth; of course he was terrified of Cora. He feared her almost much as he hated her. "I just…"

"I'll be here no matter what," Belle promised. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he whispered, and let himself cling to her for just a little while longer.

A/N: So, what do you think Cora is up to in regards to this "date" she has come up with? And do you think Emma will successfully manage to break everyone out of the Basement?

Stay tuned for Chapter Sixty-Six—"Cornered," in which Emma walks in on a magical fight, Mary Margaret finds something precious missing, Rumplestiltskin and Cora go on their 'date', and Belle tries to help Emma with the curse.