Chapter Sixty-Eight—"Darkness Rising"

"What the hell?" Emma gasped before she could stop herself, and the cloaked figure whirled to face her. Unfortunately, whoever it was wore a hood big enough to obscure their face, but that didn't keep Emma from drawing her gun. Neither did the fact that that really was a glowing heart pulsing in a gloved hand. "Drop it!" she shouted.

That turned out to be a bad choice of words. Moe French's assailant did just that, letting the heart bounce off the floor, and then vanished in a cloud of green smoke. Emma hadn't realized that magic could do that, but she didn't have time to worry. Moe was gasping for air and flailing, slipping down the wall and clearly having a heart attack. So Emma rushed to his side, staring at the heart that had landed next to where Moe was slumped against the wall, half-sitting and half lying down, glassy-eyed and struggling to breathe. Tony, in the next cell over, seemed not to be breathing at all, and there was a weird little pile of dust to his right.

"Help me," Moe wheezed, and for a moment, Emma could only stare at him. Could you have a heart attack when your heart was lying on the floor? She had no idea, but apparently Moe thought you could, because he was sure as hell having one. "My—my heart—"

"I've got you," Emma said quickly, holstering her gun and grabbing the heart. But what the hell was she supposed to do with it? Emma didn't know magic, and she had never seen this before. Frantically, her other hand dug for her cell phone, and she hit Regina on speed dial.

Three agonizingly long rings passed before Henry's other mom answered the phone. "Emma? What is it?"

"How do I put a heart back in someone?" she asked without preamble. Moe looked like he was passing out, and maybe Emma should have called 9-1-1, but there was no way Doctor Whale knew what to do with a torn out heart, either!

"What?"

"I walked into the station to find someone ripping out Moe French's heart! I've got it in my hand, but he's having a heart attack, and how the hell do I put it back in?" Emma demanded. Moe's gasps were becoming more strained, and she knew she didn't much time.

"What the—oh, hell. Just line it up and push," Regina replied. "Hard."

"Is that it?"

"Yes, that's it."

Eyes wide and heart pounding, Emma followed those instructions: she lined the heart up on the left side of Moe's chest and pushed. The florist gasped, his glassy eyes going as huge as doorknobs, but the heart did pop back into his chest. Heaving a sigh of relief, Emma spent several moments staring stupidly, full of relief and disbelief, utterly unable to believe what had just happened. Someone had ripped Moe's heart out, and Emma had just pushed it back in. Had she saved him? Was she too late? Moe's breathing was still labored and strained and—

"Emma? Emma!" Regina's voice crackled through the phone and finally started to register. How long had Regina been calling her name?

"Yeah," she blinked, still staring at Moe and willing him to get better.

"Did it work?"

"The heart's in, but I think he's having a heart attack," Emma replied, thinking back to some first responder training she'd had many lifetimes earlier. She'd finished the course like any bail bondsperson, but man, it had been forever ago. Was this what a heart attack looked like? "Is there something magic can do to stop that?"

"It's faster to call 9-1-1," Regina replied, so Emma hung up and did just that. A few minutes later, sirens shrieked outside and paramedics rushed in.

That left Emma standing with a dead body and staring at the pile of dust sitting next to Tony Rose. She didn't need a doctor to tell her that Tony was dead, but how? Kneeling at his side to look at his expression, Emma noticed that his features were slack, as if he'd been more surprised than anything else when he died. Tony looked vaguely confused, too, as if someone had done something that he could not understand at all. Emma didn't know how long she stared at the dead body, only that minutes ticked by while she tried to wrap her mind around what had just happened.

Who had done this? Who had the motive and the magic to appear, rip a heart—or two—out and then disappear? According to Regina there were few people who had magic in Storybrooke, or at least few who remembered they had it. Would Cora have done this? Probably not. She was perfectly happy to leave these two in here to rot, even if they had done her bidding, as Emma suspected. Regina's wicked sister was a wildcard, but so far as Emma knew, Zephyr, or whatever her actual name was, didn't even know Moe and Tony. That left Regina, who obviously wasn't guilty, and Gold.

And Gold, of course, was the only one with any motive at all. Any motive? Hell, he's got a huge motive to kill these two, Emma thought. Moe and Tony had nearly killed Gold, after all, and what was it that Gold had said to them just a few days ago? "I've stayed away from you both for her sake. Don't make me forget that." Yeah, that really made him sound innocent now. Yet Emma was no fool. He was the only one who had any reason to do this, but why the hell would the normally meticulous pawnbroker risk indulging in revenge now? It didn't make any sense. Emma didn't exactly know him well, but she had been around Gold long enough to know that he was anything but stupid. If he'd done this, he certainly had not expected to get caught…or for anyone to be able to do a damn thing to him if he was.

After all, it's not like I can bring him up on charges for ripping out someone's heart, she thought wryly. Not until after the curse breaks, anyway. Sighing, Emma rose and moved away from Tony's body. First things first; she'd call the hospital and get them to take the body in, see if they could determine a cause of death other than heart crushing. Then, Emma needed to figure out who Gold actually was.

Fast.

"The stupid sheriff walked in," Zelena complained, and Cora fought back a sigh. Really, did she have to do everything herself? Zelena was more careless than Regina in almost every respect; although her dark magic was far stronger, Zelena was also far less controlled. Cora put that down to bad parenting. Clearly, Zelena had been spoiled by her adoptive parents, given her way too often and was now prone to whining when she didn't get it.

That would have to stop. Cora would not permit Zelena to go off half-cocked and just do whatever she wanted. Oh, she was happy to handle her elder daughter when she needed to. Grant her a little approval, and Zelena would walk through fire to get more. Cora understood that about her needy daughter, and she would indulge her so long as Zelena remained useful. Eventually, she hoped to re-shape this eldest of her offspring into something better, but that might require encouraging Zelena to tear out her own heart and thus forcibly shed her weaknesses.

"Were you seen?" Cora asked pointedly when Zelena said no more.

"Of course not," was the response as Zelena tossed her head, red curls bouncing. "I did wear a hooded cloak, just in case. "Little Miss Swan never saw my face, though I didn't get to kill the fat florist."

Cora waved a hand. "That hardly matters. One death is enough. What did you do with French's heart?"

"Left it," Zelena giggled. "He was already having a heart attack, anyway. In fact, he might already be dead."

"Either will serve our purposes. The curse will cloud his memories of you ripping his heart out, anyway," she replied thoughtfully. Yes, Tony Rose being dead and Moe having been assaulted was more than enough to make the Savior-turned-sheriff suspicious.

That, of course, was exactly what Cora needed.

Belle stood with the phone in her hand, looking like she had seen a ghost. They'd barely walked in the front door when the house phone had started ringing, and Belle had rushed to get it while Rumplestiltskin brought Gabrielle—no longer Renee, according to the rapid-fire bunch of memories their daughter was voicing—into the house. By the time he walked into the kitchen after depositing Gabi on the floor with her dolls and promising her a snack—and a rose to come later—Belle had finished with her phone call and was now staring blankly at the wall.

"Sweetheart?" he asked quietly, stepping forward to touch her arm. "Are you all right?"

Blue eyes turned to him, full of confusion and worry. "My father had a heart attack."

"Oh." For a moment, that was all Rumplestiltskin could say; while he didn't mourn for anything that had happened to Moe French, the man was Belle's father. Belle had chosen her husband and her daughter over the narrow-minded oaf, but that didn't mean that she didn't care for her father. Belle was the sort that would always care. Rumplestiltskin might have held grudges for an eternity, but Belle never would.

"I'm his only relative," his wife said softly. "They want me to come to the hospital."

"Do you want to?" A better man would have asked if Moe was all right, but Rumplestiltskin didn't really care. He was more worried about Belle.

"I don't know," she admitted, sorrow filling her eyes. "Does that make me a bad person?"

"No, of course not," he reassured her, gently taking the phone out of her hand and wrapping an arm around her. "You're human, Belle. And your father rejected you. It's a natural reaction."

"I should still go," Belle said resolutely, and even if Rumplestiltskin admired her strength—which he always had—he almost wished she was not so brave.

"If you want to, you should," he forced himself to say, not liking the idea of leaving Belle alone with her father, but if Moe really had had a heart attack, he'd hardly be any danger to Belle. Too bad the bastard didn't just die of it, he couldn't help thinking. Rumplestiltskin might not harm Moe French (or Maurice) out of deference to Belle's wishes, but that didn't mean he would ever forgive the man for what he had done. There were some things Rumplestiltskin could not forget, and being beaten while utterly helpless was one of them. Even when he knew Cora was truly behind that.

"I won't be long," Belle promised, turning to kiss him absently on the cheek. "I promise."

"Take however long you need, sweetheart," Rumplestiltskin told her, and meant it. After all, he understood conflicting feelings towards one's own parent, even the fact that his feelings for his own father were pure, un-conflicted hate.

Belle left shortly after that, and Rumplestiltskin just headed into the living room to spend time with their daughter.

"Someone wants to see you, mate," Killian told the author as he cornered him on his way from the diner to the room he still had at Granny's. At this point, the pirate would have thought it would be smarter—and cheaper—for August to simply rent an apartment, but apparently the puppet wasn't so bright.

"Excuse me?" August stopped cold, watching him suspiciously.

"The mayor would like a word," he replied, hating being used as an errand boy. But it wasn't worth refusing; Cora would always be Cora, and she thought like a queen. She was used to having people to order about, and it was far smarter for Killian to stay on her good side. Even if it did mean playing enforcer from time to time.

Besides, August was competition for Emma, and although Killian's heart wasn't really into that seduction, taking the other man down a peg or two couldn't hurt. Sooner or later, Cora would want to know why the Savior was the one woman in Storybrooke (or the second, if one counted Lacey French) who hadn't fallen for his charms. When that day came, he fully intended to blame August. Let him suffer her wrath. I want nothing to do with it, Killian thought. Not for the first time, he started wondering if the time to change course was rapidly approaching.

"I'm busy," the author tried to object.

Killian snorted. "You want to tell her that, or shall I?" he asked with a nasty grin meant to frighten. "I'm sure Marco would be glad to hear that you can't spare Cora a moment or two."

"You can't—" August went stark white, gulping back the protest. "Okay. Fine. I'm coming."

"I thought you'd see things my way."

Belle nearly bumped into Mary Margaret on her way into the hospital, rushing in from the parking lot and telling herself that she was doing the right thing. Part of her really didn't want to visit her father—she was still unbelievably angry with him—but he was her father. So, she would come, but only to make sure he was all right. She wouldn't stay long.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, dodging around the former schoolteacher, who was busy talking to the sheriff.

"It's all right," Mary Margaret replied with a smile, despite the bruises on her pretty face. Belle remembered hearing that Mary Margaret had been attacked that morning, and Rumple had called it proof that Cora was busy collecting hearts once more. Distasteful as the thought was, Belle had to agree; there was nothing else that could make Kathryn attack someone so violently, even someone she disliked.

"Are you doing all right?" Belle paused to ask, taking in the bruises and the sling wrapped around Mary Margaret's left arm.

"Better than I was, thanks." A tired smile. "I think I just need some sleep."

"Let me know if I can do anything," she replied impulsively, but she meant it. Belle couldn't ask Rumple to heal Mary Margaret—because doing so would only draw attention they didn't need—but maybe she could help in other ways.

"Thank you," the other woman said again, and Belle reached out to briefly squeeze her good arm before she continued on her way, nodding a greeting to Emma as she did. While she headed into the hospital's entryway, she heard Emma ask:

"Are you sure you don't want to press charges?"

"Emma, if Kathryn doesn't remember it at all, and Henry is right…well, no, I don't want to. I don't think it's Kathryn's fault," Mary Margaret replied promptly, and Belle found her strides slowing so she could listen. She said 'if Henry is right'. Does that mean she believes, too? Even when cursed? Belle wondered as she stopped in front of the elevator.

Emma groaned and said: "Just keep your options open, okay? I didn't think she was lying, but she might be drugged up enough to believe that story herself."

"I will," Mary Margaret promised, and then continued: "But I'm not seeing David anymore. Please tell Henry that I'm sorry for that, but I can't stay with a man who just stands there and does nothing."

"I can't blame you for that," the sheriff replied, but then the elevator doors dinged open and Belle had to head inside. A short trip took her to the second floor, and then she hung a right to head to her father's hospital room. The nurse on duty had kindly texted her the room number after she'd gotten the call, so Belle headed straight there, pausing in the doorway.

Her father lay pale against the white sheets, hooked up to several machines but looking mostly all right. Belle waited a few moments, almost hoping that he didn't notice her, but then his eyes drifted to the doorway and Moe's entire face lit up. "Lacey!"

"Hi, Dad."

Oh, she wanted her real father back. Maurice had been short-sighted and had hated the idea that she'd fallen in love with Rumplestiltskin—which he'd never believed—but he hadn't been as cruel as her memories told her Moe had been. Moe didn't even have the excuse that his daughter had married and claimed to love the Dark One; no, he just threw Lacey out when she refused to give up her child. Part of Belle knew that the curse had driven him to do that, had made up the memories, and that he hadn't actually made those decisions, but Lacey's memories of pain and abandonment still felt so very real.

Slowly, Belle made her way into the room, keeping her distance from her father and wrapping her arms around herself for security. She had burned to ask Rumple to come with her, but she wouldn't force him to do that, not when her father had hurt him so badly. But she really wanted her husband there now, wanted to feel his reassuring presence by her side when she faced the fact that her father was hospitalized but she was still so angry with him. It was hard to reconcile her fury with her worry, and Belle felt like she was stuck on a ship in a stormy sea, whipping back and forth without any respite in sight. She loved her father—even Lacey had, as hurt and as angry as she had been—but sometimes he was downright impossible to live with.

"I didn't think you'd come," Moe said next, sounding as awkward as she felt.

Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe they could start afresh. She didn't want to lose him, after all. She just wanted him to let her live her life and accept her for who she was.

"You were hurt. Of course I came."

A tired smile split Moe's face, and Belle felt an answering one touch her lips. But it was a small smile. She still hadn't forgiven him.

"Then come in, my girl," he replied, waving a hand to her. "Come sit with me for a while?"

"I'm still angry with you," Belle said bluntly, stepping into the room without sitting down. "That doesn't mean I don't love you, but I'm still furious. And I'm not coming home, even if they let you after you get out of here, instead of sending you back to jail."

"Lacey, how can you say that? Tony is dead, and—"

"Tony is dead?" she echoed, feeling like the wind had been punched out of her. Belle had never loved Gaston, but she'd known him most of her life, and even if she was angry with him, too, well, that didn't mean that she wanted him dead. "How?"

"Someone killed him," her father replied, looking stubborn. "They tell me it was a heart attack, but I saw someone there. And then that same someone came to me and everything kind of went dark. I don't…I don't remember what happened after that. I woke up here." Moe swallowed, looking thoughtful, and then added: "Maybe they tased me? And Tony. Whoever it was held something against his chest, and maybe mine, too."

Oh, no. Belle was no fool, and she'd lived with the Dark One for more than four years in the Enchanted Forest. She knew exactly what this sounded like, and knew that someone must have ripped Tony's heart out of his chest and crushed it. And then they'd tried to do the same to her father. Rumple was with me, she thought frantically. Wasn't he? Quickly, Belle ran through their day in her mind. Rumplestiltskin had gone to pick up Gabrielle at the park because Belle had been sorting through the new books, and he certainly wouldn't have brought her along to hurt someone. He could have done it before that, but…no. Belle didn't think so. Her husband was a meticulous man once his rage cooled, and he'd had weeks to plan something smarter than bursting into the sheriff's station in broad daylight to rip hearts out, assuming he even intended to. Also, Belle believed him when he said that he wouldn't harm her father or Tony, because—as difficult as Rumplestiltskin could be—he'd never broken such a promise to her.

Now she felt guilty for even thinking he might have done it, but she was married to the Dark One. No one knew that better than Belle, and she knew how hard it was for her husband to fight back the darkness. But not this time. This time, she was certain someone else was at fault.

The only question was who.

"I'm really starting to wonder what the hell is going on," Errol said bluntly, walking into the kitchen on Regina's heels.

He'd come straight to the house after making the required statements to Emma and ensuring Mary Margaret made it safely to the hospital. Regina was so grateful to him for that, because David had wandered off after the attack, without even stopping to make sure Regina's beloved sister was all right. It had been Errol who called Regina to let her knew what had happened, and Errol who had gone to the hospital to check in on a very depressed Mary Margaret. That should have been David's job, but David was nowhere to be found. Instead, Errol had stepped into the gap and done what needed to be done, and she wanted to kiss him for that. But now wasn't the time.

"What the hell is wrong with David?" Errol demanded when Regina couldn't find a response, making Henry's head jerk up out of the Book. As far as Regina knew, her son was still trying to ferret out who Rumplestiltskin was in Storybrooke, but now his attention was on Errol as well.

"I…I'm not entirely sure," she answered carefully. After all, Errol was still cursed. As helpful as he was, and as much as Robin Hood was starting to come out from behind the persona of Errol Forrester, he wasn't acting entirely of his own free will. He didn't understand exactly what was going on, and even if she told him the complete and unvarnished truth, there was no way he could believe her.

"C'mon, Regina, you live with the man," he pressed, and she caught sight of Henry's nervous smile out of the corner of her eye.

"He hasn't exactly been himself lately," Regina said slowly, thinking through her options. She didn't want to lie to Errol, but what could she say? He wouldn't understand the truth, and that left Regina with exactly zero options.

"Yeah, any idiot can see that."

"I know," she sighed. "You're right."

More importantly, Regina knew what this had to be. Her mother would always be someone who believed in ripping people's hearts out if she needed control or power. There was only one thing that could make Kathryn attack so blindly, and that was if someone was controlling the woman who used to be Princess Abigail by using her heart. And David had gone on a date with Kathryn, for absolutely inexplicable reasons. If Mother has Kathryn's heart, what would stop her from having David's, too? I'd started to suspect this earlier, but… How many hearts does Mother have?

"So, are you going to tell me what's going on, love?" Errol asked directly. "I know you know more than you're letting on."

Helplessly, Regina looked at Henry. He was so good at reading people, this remarkable eleven-year-old boy she and David had raised, and his instincts were often better than her own. Henry shrugged.

"Might as well tell him, Mom. The curse has got to be broken soon, anyway."

A frown marred Errol's handsome face. "Curse? What curse?"

"You might as well do the honors, Henry," Regina said with another sigh, and her boyfriend turned to look at her son in confusion.

"You're probably gonna want to sit down," Henry started. "It started when Mary Margaret gave me this book…"

4 Months Before the Curse

Leaving the dead bear behind, David and Robin snuck into the Forbidden Fortress, creeping across the front entryway and into the castle proper. There didn't seem to be anyone out and about, although they could hear a distant sound that was almost like a baby crying.

"What in the world is that?" Robin asked in an undertone, looking concerned.

The truth hit David like a ton of bricks. "Maleficent told my wife she was pregnant," he realized aloud. "She must…she must have had her baby already."

"Well, I guess that means she'll be distracted?" the outlaw suggested with a shrug, and despite the danger of the situation, David had to smile.

"We can only hope," he agreed, leading the way around a corner. Rumplestiltskin had implied that they would be able to find Maleficent's staff in the gallery off of the great hall; apparently, the dragon sorceress kept it there when she was not using it. Unfortunately, exactly where that gallery was located hadn't been something the Dark One could or would tell him, which meant the pair was left bumbling about, opening doors and looking into rooms at random.

Fortunately, they found the right room on the third try, and it was Robin who spotted the tall black staff leaning against the far wall. "Is that it?" the outlaw asked quietly.

"Looks like," David replied, and they moved forward together.

A few minutes later, they had wrestled the globe out of the staff—an interesting job that Robin proved entirely suited to accomplish—and replaced it with the identical one Rumplestiltskin had provided. There was no way of telling what was inside this orb, but David already knew. Inside was a small vial, the one that the Dark One had shown him. "A potion made of the True Love shared between you and your dear wife," the sorcerer had said. "Hiding it will ensure that this potion is available, even should Cora cast the most terrible of curses." Apparently, putting the vial in Maleficent's staff was the best way to make sure it was safe—though David had no idea why Rumplestiltskin couldn't just ask Maleficent, since he was certain they had to know one another, and Maleficent wasn't keen on Cora casting the curse, either. Still, the job was done, his family was protected, and Robin had now paid back the deal he had broken.

All in all, it seemed like a win until a trio of dogs came rushing around the corner when they were on their way out of the Forbidden Fortress. A tall woman, dressed in black and white, was right behind them.

"Don't kill them yet, darlings," she said with a wave of one hand. "First, I want to know why they are here."

David and Robin exchanged glances, but there was no choice to be made and nothing to be said. They ran.

His phone could not have rung at a worse possible time. There August was, cornered by a pirate, the Wicked Witch, and the Evil Queen, and then his cell phone started to play the Imperial March. Not that he expected anyone in the room to appreciate the ringtone, but he really could have done without the interruption.

"Don't let us distract you from your important calls," Zelena cooed, her teeth flashing in a mocking smile. "Answer it."

"I—it can wait. It's probably Emma, and you don't want me talking to Emma here, do you? She might suspect something," August said quickly, and felt his nose twitch.

Emma was still angry with him, of course, which meant she wasn't going to call anytime soon. But they didn't know that, did they?

"Pinocchio, dear, I do believe your nose just twitched," Cora said mildly. "Why don't you answer the phone?"

"Don't you want to finish our conversation first?" he asked helplessly, hoping there was a way around this. After all, he was only expecting one phone call, based on the message he'd received two days earlier, and if who he thought was calling was calling, this could be an absolute disaster.

"It sounds like he doesn't want us to know who he's talking to, Mother," Zelena piped up immediately, and August could have hit himself. I should have just answered the damn phone and played it off like it was nothing!

"Indeed it does," the Evil Queen purred, and August started to reach for the phone to answer it before it could go to voicemail when the pirate simply stepped forward, reached a hand into his pocket, and pulled the phone out.

The Imperial March abruptly ended, and the irrational (and nervous) part of August's mind decided that Darth Vader did not like Captain Hook. Unfortunately, the pirate was apparently well-versed in 21st century technology, because he immediately pulled up the missed calls screen. I really should password protect my iPhone, the former puppet thought desperately, swallowing hard.

"Neal Cassidy," Hook read aloud, throwing Cora a glance. "That's not anyone who lives in town, is it?"

"No, it isn't," Cora replied, stepping forward to look at the phone, and his call log. "He's calling you quite often, isn't he, Pinocchio?"

August gulped. "He's just an old friend. We, uh, kind of met over stolen watches and a stolen car, to be honest."

And since that was true, he was in the clear. He hoped.

"Well, then, why don't you call him back?" she suggested all-too-innocently. "But do put it on speaker. I'm terribly curious about Mr. Cassidy by now. He keeps wandering into your life at the most interesting times."

"He's really not very interesting—"

"Mother, look! There his nose goes again!" Zelena interrupted, laughing.

August's nose had twitched hard enough to make him hiss in pain, and Cora's amusement vanished even as her psycho daughter's increased.

"Call your friend," she ordered, and he knew that tone of voice. "Now."

"Right. Sure," August said quickly. "I'm not sure what the big deal is, but sure, I'll call him."

"Good boy," Cora smiled coldly. "I wouldn't want to have to take your heart out, after all. Then I'd have no reason to keep your dear papa alive and well."

That selfsame heart skipped a beat, and August snatched his phone back quickly. He hoped like crazy that Neal didn't say anything too revealing, or mention that he was planning on coming to Storybrooke sometime after Friday (which was tomorrow, and now all too close at hand), but in the end, that didn't matter as much as keeping his father safe did. August would do whatever it took to keep Cora from killing his papa. He had to.

Unfortunately, Neal picked up on the second ring, and August already had him on speaker.

"August, man, you really need to start actually being around when you say people are in trouble," Emma's ex-boyfriend said immediately. "Could you even bother to answer my last voicemail?"

"Sorry, I've been busy," he replied, trying not to look at Cora or Zelena's suddenly fascinated expressions. Even Hook looked mildly interested, which was certainly new. He wanted to end the call then and there, tell Neal to call him back, but he knew he couldn't. "I'm here now. What's up?"

"Look, I've got to meet my girlfriend's best friend tomorrow—assuming I don't break up with Tamara first for being really weird lately—but I'm heading north on Saturday. You said you'd give me directions, so how about them? Since apparently I can't find your weird little town without them."

"Um, you know, a lot of stuff has come up lately, and—"

"Don't even think about it," Neal cut him off. "I'm coming whether you want me to or not, so just give me the damn directions."

August gulped. This was so not going well, but what could he do? Cora was flexing her fingers in an obvious hint, and he couldn't endanger his father. But maybe he could buy a little time. "Look, remember what I said before? When you get off 95 North at the Kennebunk exit, give me a call. I'll direct you in."

"You gonna answer when I call? I'm not really eager to drive around the back roads of Maine for hours while I wait for you to remember you own a cell phone."

"I'll answer," he said helplessly. "I promise."

"All right. I'll talk to you then," Neal replied, and then there was a click.

Shoving his phone spastically in his pocket, August forced himself to look up at Cora. "Neal's just a friend who wants to see the town. He's not a danger to anyone"—not that I know of, anyway—"and I just promised him some vacation time."

Yeah, his nose twitched again, and Cora saw it. This time, however, she didn't bother to ask questions; she just stepped forward and plunged her hand right into his chest. Searing pain tore through August, and then his emotions went curiously numb. His father had told him stories about how the Evil Queen tore hearts out, but he'd never expected to feel it himself. Suddenly, all of his worries and his cares were strangely muted, and he stared at the glowing red heart slack-jawed. It was flecked with little spots of darkness here and there, but wasn't made of wood at all. Surprisingly.

"I'm done playing games," Cora told him bluntly. "Now you're going to answer all of my questions, and if you're a good boy, you'll get your heart back. Otherwise, I'll just keep it. Understood?"

Still staring at his own beating heart, August nodded. She could crush it, he knew. She could crush it or hurt him or even make him kill his own father—

"Pay attention," the Evil Queen snapped, and August finally managed to look at her face, terror making him feel like he was moving underwater.

"I understand," he whispered, and his eyes found his heart once more. How long could he live with it out? Indefinitely, or something less than that? He'd never been so afraid, more of what she could make him do than of the thought of dying.

"God. Now, tell me: who is Neal Cassidy?"

Had she phrased the question any other way, August might have been able to get around the question. Cora undoubtedly wanted him to explain how he actually knew Neal, or what kind of things Neal did or why he would matter to Storybrooke, but she hadn't asked that. No, she'd asked who he was, and August's traitorous lips started to form the answer before he even realized that he could not fight the compulsion to answer truthfully.

"Baelfire," he whispered dejectedly. "He's Baelfire."

A/N: Oh, dear. Cora's got some valuable information, now—what do you think she'll do with it?

Stay tuned for Chapter Sixty-Nine—"Suspicion and Secrets", in which Emma accuses Gold of murder, David realizes the depth of what he has done, August tries to play innocent with Emma, and Regina brings Henry along for a visit to Rumplestiltskin's shop. Back in the past, Charming returns home and faces a tough decision.

Also, I have a review challenge! If FOTS reaches 1,005 on this chapter, I'll post two sneak peeks for the next chapter on tumblr instead of my usual one. (The link to my blog is in my profile). If we get to 1,015, I'll post a chapter for 'This is No Game' ahead of schedule, and then another one on my next update day.