Chapter Seventy-One—"Promises Given"

"It's done, Mother," Zelena reported over the phone less than an hour later.

"Did anyone see you?"

"One of the munchkins did, but I hit him with a forgetful spell, so he won't remember," her daughter replied with a smile Cora could hear.

"Excellent. Though you must remember that they're dwarves, darling. Not munchkins."

Zelena giggled. "They're useless either way."

"Of course they are. Now, get some rest. There are other things we must do in the morning, and I have an important trip for you to go on."

Cora listened to Zelena's gushing goodbyes and then refocused on the curse scroll she held in her hands. Her next step would take a little more preparation than locking Geppetto away, but she had all night to do just that. And now her control over young Pinocchio was complete enough that she could ignore the writer—she might have given him back his heart, but now she had far better leverage.

Belle hadn't expected Rumplestiltskin to beat her home that evening—usually, Cora kept him until very late hours, even if she wasn't able to force herself upon him. But she found him in the living room with a glass of scotch in his hand, staring blankly at the television.

"Rumple?" she asked quietly. "Are you all right?"

Alarmed, his head snapped up, eyes wide until he finally seemed to notice her. A wan smile crossed his face. "Better than I might be," her husband answered with more honesty than he would have before the curse.

Moving slowly—and making sure not to startle him—Belle slipped into the spot on the couch next to him. The glass of scotch was nearly empty, but at least the bottle wasn't on the table. Gold had gotten himself stone drunk to try to wipe away the memory of what Cora did to him on more than one occasion, but Belle was very glad to see that Rumplestiltskin wasn't climbing into a bottle to cope. He didn't smell like alcohol, either, which meant this probably wasn't more than a second drink. Maybe his first. Still, she would have been there for him regardless, even if he had been drunk and stupid, so Belle put a gentle hand on his arm.

"Did she…?"

"No." Rumplestiltskin shook his head. "She's not that stupid. It's just…being near her, and acting like I don't—like I'm not…" he trailed off.

Relief coursed through her; Belle knew better than anyone that Rumplestiltskin still suffered from the repeated rapes and pain Cora had subjected him to for twenty-eight years. In truth, she probably understood how damaged he was better than Rumplestiltskin did, since they both knew that he didn't want to admit that to himself. Leaning in, Belle wrapped an arm around his shoulders, letting her hand drift to his neck. He loved it when she played with his hair, her fingers ghosting gently over his neck, and it never failed to help Rumple relax. Even now, she could see some of the tension bleeding out of him as he leaned into her touch.

"I love you," Belle said softly, leaning in to kiss his cheek, and then staying close to him. "And whatever you need, I'll be here."

"I love you, too." If his whisper was a little ragged, well, Belle pretended not to notice. They both remained silent for several moments, their heads pressed together and with Belle still rubbing gently, before Rumplestiltskin asked: "How did the little breakout go?"

"Surprisingly easy. It probably helped that Cora was—well, wasn't around."

"Well, I'm glad to have been of assistance," he replied dryly, and Belle had to laugh softly at the irony in his voice.

"Thank you," she said playfully, and this time the hint of a smile on his face was genuine. "My hero."

Rumplestiltskin snorted. "Don't get ahead of yourself, sweetheart. I'm still a monster."

"Well, then you're my monster," Belle said, hating—as always—to hear him call himself that, but not willing to get in an argument when he was out of sorts. And her possessive slant did the trick; Rumplestiltskin chuckled quietly.

"I can feel it, you know," he said after a moment. "The curse is straining, stretching. It's so very close, so ready to give. All it will take is one small push."

"Then what do we need to do?"

"I wish I knew. That's up to Miss Swan, unfortunately," he grumbled.

Belle frowned. "It's not like you to leave things to chance like that, Rumple."

"When you create—or modify, in this case—a curse, you can specify one thing: how it is broken, when it is broken, or who breaks it," her husband explained. "If you're very good, you can choose two. But never all three."

"And you, of course, are very good," she smiled.

"Always."

"Speaking of good things, I think it's time you finished your scotch and came to bed," Belle suggested, rising from the couch. "If we're as close as you think, we're going to need all the rest we can get."

"So we are." Rumplestiltskin followed her up the stairs without complaint, downing the last gulp of scotch and leaving the glass in the kitchen. He'd have nightmares tonight, Belle knew, but they would face them together.

"Well, that's done," Regina breathed as she and Errol squeezed into the back of Emma's car. Dove—Gold's surprisingly intelligent henchman—would stay at the cabin tonight to help out if needed, so the three of them were finally done with the job of rescuing everyone from the Basement.

"And not a moment too soon," Emma agreed.

Next to Regina, Errol grunted in agreement. Regina wasn't sure why they'd both gotten in the back, particularly after their recent decision to take things slowly until the curse broke, but she couldn't argue about being this close to him. Regina hadn't felt this way in a lifetime, hadn't ever thought she would feel her heart warm and quicken like this again. Now that she'd found love, she wasn't going to let it go, no matter what. Even if that meant taking things slowly for Errol's sake.

"You want me to drop you at home or the station, Errol?" Emma asked after a moment.

"Home is fine. Mel will cover for me and swear I've been there all night," he replied, and Regina smiled.

"Well, I'm glad one of us has an alibi," she replied.

"You could ask David—" he started to suggest, but cut off when she shook her head.

"David would do it if I asked, but Mother…well, let's just say she's got a magical hold on him right now. I can't risk it."

"Can someone else fix that?" Errol wondered.

Can I? Regina asked herself. Back home, she'd known where her mother kept all of her hearts, but Regina had never been brave enough to break into that vault. Here, however, the same vault existed in Cora's 'family' mausoleum, and Regina was willing to bet there were a lot fewer magical defenses on the place. They're probably based in blood magic, too, and that means I can get in!

"That would probably be a good idea," Emma spoke up. "David can't be the only one."

"No, he can't," she sighed, but now the thought was in her mind and would not let go. Perhaps there was something she could do. And wouldn't that undermine her mother's power base rather beautifully? Regina could almost taste the victory already.

One Week Before the Curse

"They say that the hearts of two True Loves are shared…" Rumplestiltskin had told her several days earlier, and Cora had turned that answer over again and again in her mind, just to make sure that she knew exactly what he meant. After all, when one was preparing—again—to cast the Curse to End All Curses, one could not afford guesswork. Unfortunately, the list of ingredients was very specific, and at first she had thought that Rumplestiltskin had included the one specific line just to aim another jab at her heartless state. Now, however, she was quite certain that he had not.

No, such a potent and powerful curse should require such a great loss, should it not? Otherwise, any moderately powerful sorcerer could have cast the curse, and that simply would not do. Even having to figure out the loophole inherent in the requirement to sacrifice the heart of the one you love most was worth paying the price for. So what if she'd given Rumple a good life? He was welcome to it. She had no desire to put him in poverty, after all. Besting him would not be nearly so enticing if he was nothing. Cora planned on giving him everything he wanted, and then more. She would simply exact a high price for it.

Just as he had exacted a high price for the little hint he had given her. But now Cora knew what he meant. The wording was just loose enough that she could interpret it in one particular manner and keep her daughter—Regina, not Zelena, for Zelena would never matter to her the way the daughter she had raised did—alive. So, she put pen to paper, writing slowly and meticulously.

My dearest Regina,

I hope this finds you well. I would have delivered this missive with magic, but I fear you would have rejected any letter I send in such a fashion. Oh, I do hope that the messenger reaches you in time—otherwise this will all have been for naught.

Your beloved Daniel has fallen dreadfully ill. As you know, I have never been a master of the healing arts, and our mutual teacher is regretfully detained at the moment. By your stepsister, I understand? Perhaps you should have some words with Snow on that front. But that is of little consequence. I truly do fear for Daniel's life; he is suffering and his only wish is to see you one last time before he dies.

I know you do not trust me, darling, and I cannot blame you. But I give you my solemn word that I will not try to capture, detain, or in any way harm you when you come. I understand what Daniel means to you, and I would not have you separated from him in his hour of need. Please hurry. I do not know how long he will last.

Your loving mother,

Cora

The letter would probably a week to reach Regina, holed up in Snow's castle as she was. That would give Cora plenty of time to prepare.

The next morning, Cora sent Zelena after the girl while she invited the hatter to her office. Of course, Jefferson was a little confused as to why the mayor would want to see the mere manager of Modern Fashions, but he arrived promptly enough. As well he should have, given how he was cursed to be a polite and well-mannered stalker for Mary Margaret. He'd drifted unfortunately far away from frightening and annoying Snow's alter ego, but Cora supposed that was her fault. She'd become distracted by all the other ways in which she wanted to make Snow suffer, and had allowed Emma Swan to scare Jefferson away.

Still, that hardly mattered for what she had in mind today.

"Jefferson," she greeted him smoothly. "Won't you sit down?"

"Thank you, Madam Mayor," he replied with a winning smile, and seated himself across from her desk, looking trim and well-put together in slacks and a nice collared shirt. Cora paused for a moment to appreciate the view—she always enjoyed pretty male faces, after all—and waited for him to settle in. She wasn't being kind, of course.

She just didn't want him collapsing when she woke him up.

"I require your services, Hatter," the mayor said coolly, and watched the magic work.

The spell had been difficult to craft, more so than the one to wake Zelena since Cora had not prepared for this eventuality ahead of time. But using the curse scroll and her own control over the Dark Curse, Cora had been able to insert a loophole with which to wake up the portal jumper. Doing so weakened the curse just a little, but at this point, that didn't really matter. The curse was going to break eventually. She needed Jefferson to prepare for what came after that inevitable event. And perhaps to stop it entirely, she added silently, knowing that her last effort to force Emma Swan out of town had been ill-conceived and careless. This time would be different.

The magic hit Jefferson like a freight train, making him rock back violently in his chair as decades' worth of memories warred for control of his mind. Cora watched with amused interest; Zelena was a sorceress, and had been prepared for this. The Hatter's magic was a specialty, and only worked on his hat, which meant that he wasn't ready for this at all. For a few moments, he shook and jerked spastically, twitching and wide-eyed and oh so confused. Cora, however, was content to wait until the Hatter's personality asserted itself over the mild-mannered stalker's. Several minutes passed before he seemed able to breathe properly, and she did not start speaking until his eyes focused on her and registered fear.

"Are you awake now, Hatter?" she asked very specifically.

Jefferson swallowed. "Unfortunately."

"Oh, why unfortunately? Are you unhappy to be working with me again?" Cora cooed, resisting the urge to laugh at the panic in his eyes.

"Of course not," he said quickly, glancing around the office nervously.

"Don't worry so much. Your daughter is perfectly safe."

"My-!" Jefferson came halfway out of his chair before he seemed to remember to stop himself, but the man still looked ready to do murder. Cora just folded her hands and spoke calmly.

"Zelena's gone to fetch her heart. You do remember my daughter Zelena, don't you?"

After all, Jefferson had been sent to Oz once to fetch information on the Wicked Witch, and he'd also met Zelena in the months leading up to the curse. He hadn't liked Cora's eldest daughter, but Cora really didn't care about that. She wanted his allegiance, not his affection.

"I do," he replied through gritted teeth. "You don't—Your Majesty, please. Whatever you want, I will do it. Just please leave my daughter alone."

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear," Cora smiled. "So, I will offer you a deal. You will take Zelena to Wonderland via your little hat. When you return—with the person of my choosing—I will return Grace's heart."

"You don't have to take it at all!" Jefferson objected, looking worried. "I'll do what you want, I swear."

"It's a little late for that now," Zelena giggled, walking into the room with a child-sized heart in her hand. It glowed brightly, as almost every child's did, and the look on Jefferson's face when he saw it was utterly priceless.

The Hatter looked between the two women, clearly torn between heartbreak and fury. But heartbreak won.

"We have a deal," he whispered. "Please don't hurt her."

"I treat my allies well," Cora told him, rising from behind her desk. "Remember that, and you and your dear daughter will be just fine. You'll leave immediately."

"My hat…?"

"Is in the next room." Cora was very glad that was one of the items she had specifically told the curse to leave in her possession; otherwise, it might have wound up in Gold's shop along with so many other magical objects. However, she had the hat, and she now owned the Hatter as well.

"Take care while I'm away, Mother," Zelena said, handing over the heart.

Cora kissed her on the cheek. "I will, darling. And do be careful. The Jabberwocky is a dangerous foe."

"I will," Zelena promised as Jefferson blanched. Good. I thought the man would be well educated on the dangers in each land he has visited, Cora thought, satisfied. His fear for his daughter will make him cautious, and that will balance out Zelena's more reckless nature. "I've read everything I can find on the Jabberwocky, and I promise I'll bring her—and the Vorpal Blade—back to you."

"I have every confidence in you," she assured her daughter, turning to place Grace's heart in the box waiting on her desk. "Now, go so that you can return quickly. We have much work to do."

And Cora had a Nightmare Curse to brew.

Sheriff Swan had kept her word and let him know about the breakout from the Basement, giving him details on the poor women—and one man—who'd been kept captive there. Despite Francis' best efforts, she wouldn't tell him where they were now, which burned more than a little. He owed Vicky—Ana—an apology, and how was he supposed to give that to her if he couldn't see her? But Swan was understandably paranoid, and Francis figured that writing a huge exposé on the place would get him a little bit of credit. Maybe then he could ask her again.

So, he wrote the article, a damned good one, if he said so himself. It had taken all night, but that was a worthy endeavor. was one of his best pieces of work, and unlike a lot of the others, it was chock full of facts instead of whatever crap Cora sold him. Why had he always been her man? Francis didn't even like the woman, and even if she sometimes gave him information he couldn't get elsewhere, exciting news articles didn't seem worth selling his soul over. Somehow or another, she'd made him send Ana to that horrible place, and as far as Francis was concerned, he was done with her. This article ought to bloody well prove that to her, he thought, grinning at his computer screen in satisfaction. It was about damn time someone took Cora down a peg, and Francis was only too happy to help the Sheriff do it.

Why then, did his hand suddenly reach out, grasp his mouse, and delete the file he had worked so hard to create? And then his stupidly insane self went on and deleted every backup copy of the article he'd saved, along with his notes and everything else even related to the Basement. Soon enough, Francis found himself burning his handwritten notes, too, despite having no desire at all to do that. He meticulously destroyed everything, all the while marveling and why he'd done so and wondering what the hell was wrong with himself.

Two hours later, already late for work, Francis Scadlock woke up thinking that he'd changed his mind, and that the article was best left unpublished, anyway.

"So, are you ready to talk about the curse?" Henry asked, plopping down in the chair across from Emma's desk that morning. It was a Sunday, but Emma was covering the shift because Keith was probably in a gutter somewhere and Gary had become an absolutely useless sycophant of Cora's. He was even more trouble than Keith, who could at least be relied upon to be drunk and selfish. Gary, however, seemed willing to do nothing without the mayor's express permission, which meant Emma usually just tried to ignore him.

"You gonna tell me how to break it?" she countered, looking at her son with raised eyebrows.

"The Book doesn't say," Henry admitted, looking a little chagrined. "I kinda thought you'd figure it out."

"Kid, I thought that was your job," she chuckled. Tellingly enough, Emma no longer contemplated how odd it was that she believed in the curse: she just believed. And now that things had calmed down, that her giant to-do list was shrinking down, she could turn her attention to the very matter Henry so wanted her to focus on.

After all, her biggest problem had just been solved now that the people in the Basement were free. The 'big' assault case still lingered, of course, but Moe French was going to be in the hospital for weeks yet, particularly now that Whale was talking about him needing a heart transplant. And D.A. Spencer had just called to talk about a plea bargain for Killian O'Malley; apparently, 'Lacey' Gold was willing to let him take one, even if her lawyer/husband did not agree. Emma was even leaning towards actually believing that Gold hadn't killed Tony Rose, though that case was still open.

Still, the Basement breakout had lifted a giant weight off her shoulders. Emma was even starting to think that she was ready to break this thing, however that needed to be done.

"I can talk to Mom again. She might even ask Mr. Gold. I'm still not sure who he is, but he really seems to know a lot," Henry replied thoughtfully.

"Well, are you missing anyone with magic that's in the Book?" Emma asked curiously, thinking back to her conversation with Gold. He'd been cagey—as usual—and avoided telling her who the hell he was supposed to be. Granted, Emma was grateful that he'd helped them out by providing his cabin, along with the money to feed and care for the escaped prisoners, but that didn't mean she was prepared to give him a free pass.

Just some brownie points.

"Only the Dark One," Henry shrugged. "And he isn't human, so that kind of knocks Mr. Gold out. Besides, Mr. Gold has always been kinda nice to kids, and the Dark One is supposed to steal babies."

Memory hit Emma like a ton of bricks. "He made a deal for Ashley's baby!"

"Just like Rumplestiltskin did in the Enchanted Forest," Henry gasped, eyes wide and catching on right away. "Why didn't I notice that? That would explain why Mom knows him, too—he taught her!"

"Regina learned from this uber-evil bad guy?" Emma was having a hard time wrapping her mind around that one. Regina's story in the Book seemed more tragic than evil, despite what August said about her, but then why had she learned from Rumplestiltskin?

"He's more unpredictable than evil," her son explained with a shrug. "At least in the Book, anyway. You can never tell what side he's going to be on. He helped the Evil Queen with the curse at the end, but he also helped Snow White and Prince Charming beat her. He's kind of more of a consensual villain—he'll make almost any deal, but he always keeps it when he does."

"Then why's he called the Dark One?"

"Because he's under a curse. There's not much about it in here, but it makes him into something inhuman in the Enchanted Forest. I think he was human before that, though."

"Would that make him human here?" Emma wondered, turning the idea over in her mind. Gold as some uber-powerful, maybe-sometimes-evil, mastermind? Yeah, she could see that.

"Well, it is the Land Without Magic, but there's magic now," Henry pointed out. "Though maybe he's using magic to keep looking human?"

"You mom also keeps saying that magic is different here," she shrugged. "But that doesn't really matter, does it? Do you really think Gold might be the Dark One?"

"I dunno. I mean, he has to be the Beast because of Belle and all…"

"You're the one who said that people could have more than one story in the Book."

Henry frowned. "I know. I just…how can the Beast be the Dark One?" he asked plaintively. "He's supposed to be a good guy!"

"I don't know, kiddo. But I think we might want to figure that out before we break this thing, huh?"

"Yeah."

The Imperial March belted out of August's phone right after he got Cora's friendly little note telling him that his father had been 'relocated' for his safety and that August would see him again if he behaved himself and gave Cora what she wanted. It didn't matter who was calling; they couldn't have chosen a worse moment to do it, and he almost broke the screen on his iPhone because he smacked it so hard to unlock it.

"Yeah?" he barked, thinking of his papa, wondering where Cora might have hidden him. Had he burned too many bridges with Emma to get her help saving Marco?

"Don't bite my head off," Neal Cassidy's voice came from the other end. "You're the one who wanted me to call you when I was at the Kennebunk exit on 95 North."

"What?" August asked stupidly, his brain refusing to compute.

"It's Sunday," the other man reminded him. "I'm on my way to Storybrooke. You gonna give me directions, or what?"

"You really couldn't have picked a worse time, could you?" he growled before he could stop himself. His leg was aching, his other foot had turned to wood, his papa had been kidnapped, and now Baelfire was coming. And Cora knows. Damn it all, I am so screwed!

"I've been yelled at enough today, man. You're the one who invited me. If you want to change your mind, I'll find my own way," Neal retorted.

"No, I haven't. I'm sorry; it's just been a bad day," he made himself say, and then sighed. "Head east on 9A until you hit 35, then take that to Route 9. It'll be the town right after Kennebunkport. I'll meet you at the town line."

Neal repeated the directions back at him, and then asked: "They got a hotel I can stay at there?"

"Yeah, there's a bed and breakfast. I'm staying there, too. I'll make sure they have a room for you." Assuming you need it, August thought guiltily. Then he added, just to distract himself: "Why'd you get yelled at today, anyway?"

"I broke up with my girlfriend. She was getting really weird, and insisted I stay in town to meet her 'oldest' friend, but there was nothing about that friendship that passed the smell test," was the response. "I can't figure out if they're sleeping together or barely know each other, and besides, if I'm coming to help Emma, well…I can't really do that when I'm dating some other chick. Even if Emma wants nothing to do with me, I owe her that much."

August didn't know what to say to that. "I'll…uh, meet you at the exit, then. It should take you about forty-five minutes."

"Sure. See you then."

Neal hung up, and August struggled with his conscience again for several minutes. The right thing to do, the good thing to do would be to meet Neal at the town line and tell him what was going on. But if he did that, his father might die. And he couldn't let that happen. He hadn't sacrificed so much and fought so hard to let Cora hurt his father now.

Even if it meant sacrificing someone else.

So, he dialed Cora's number, hating himself as he did so, but having no other choice. She answered on the third ring.

"Do you have some news, dear?" the Evil Queen purred. "Or are you worried about your dear papa?"

"You can't hurt him!" August gasped, hearing the threat. His next words were a desperate plea: "I've done everything you've asked."

"Have you?" she asked casually.

"Neal—Baelfire—is on his way," he told her miserably. "He'll be at the town line in about forty minutes."

"Well done, Pinocchio," Cora praised him. "I guess you do want your father to survive. I'll send someone to meet him with you. Don't try anything foolish."

Closing his eyes, August whispered: "I won't."

"Good."

They'd run into one another completely by accident outside of Storybrooke Coffee, and it was like some magnetic force kept Regina from walking away when Errol smiled at her. So, somehow she wound up taking a seat across from him outside the coffee shop, enjoying the crisp March air and the opportunity to spend time together without the added stress of rescuing seven people from the Basement. They talked about everything and nothing, mostly about how Henry was doing in school and how good the kindergarten teachers in Storybrooke were, since Errol was already thinking ahead on that front.

Eventually, however, something awkward had to come up. "So…I've been thinking a lot," Errol said slowly. "I know who I'm supposed to be, but what about you? Henry didn't say."

"I know," she replied, sighing. This conversation was exactly what Regina had hoped to avoid, because how did you tell someone that you were something of a villain in their world? Particularly when Robin Hood had never been anything but a hero?

"Is that your way of saying that you don't want to tell me?" he asked when she said nothing more.

"I think I would rather tell you when you wake up," Regina said softly.

Much to her surprise, Errol reached out and squeezed hand. "I'm all right with that. Truly. I don't want to press, Regina. I just want to know you."

Those simple words filled her heart with too much joy to bear.

"Stop."

Blinking, Neal did as he was told, staring at empty road in front of his rental car and wondering what the hell kind of game August was playing. He knew enough about magic to be dangerous, even if Neal had tried damn hard to run away from all of that, particularly since escaping Neverland. But he'd never heard of a curse that could rip people out of one realm and put them in another, or of one that could hide an entire town. He was starting to think that August's story was more than a little fishy, but hell, he was here, wasn't he?

"There's nothing in front of me," he said into his phone, the replacement for the iPhone he'd dropped out the window like an absolute moron just three days ago.

"Give me a sec, and you should see me," August replied, and Neal felt ready to tell him to pull the other leg.

But sure enough, after a moment, August just seemed to appear, walking out of sheer nothingness and suddenly standing five feet away from his car. Snorting in surprise, Neal let his phone drop, and pulled the car over to the side of the road when August gestured for him to do so. Then he got out, walking over to meet the man who had convinced him to make the worst mistake of his life. It had been a long drive, and he could use the time to stretch his legs, anyway.

"You can leave your car here. We'll cross the line so that you know Storybrooke exists, and then you should be able to come back and get it."

Neal shot him an odd look. "Can't you just drive me across?"

"I guess so," August replied, looking uncomfortable.

"Well, then let's get this over with and you can show me your invisible town," he replied, wondering why August was acting so strangely. Then again, he didn't really know the guy. When he wasn't busy talking fast and making threats, maybe August really was just like this.

"Sure."

Together, they got in the car, this time with August in the driver's seat. He fiddled with the seat's position for a moment, looking like his legs were bothering him.

"Something wrong?" Neal asked.

"Yeah," the other man replied, smiling crookedly. "It's just…well, there's magic here, and I'm turning to wood. Not a very pleasant experience."

"You're turning to wood," he repeated, unable to stop himself from staring. There's magic? I thought this world wasn't supposed to have magic? Suppressing his instinctive desire to panic was hard; by the time Neal had managed, they'd crossed the town line and August was turning the car off. August climbed out before Neal managed to object, taking the keys with him, so Neal followed suit.

"You could have mentioned that there was magic here!" he hissed, and August turned to give him a guilty look.

"I'm sorry, Neal. I didn't have a choice."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Neal demanded, and then a familiar man stepped out of the trees by the side of the road. He had two hands and was dressed in twenty-first century clothing, but he was still clad in black leather, and Baelfire would have recognized him anywhere. His blood ran cold.

"Hook?" he gasped.

"Hello, Baelfire."

A/N: Now, of course, I've left Baelfire/Neal in a bit of a lurch, so what do you think Hook is going to do with him? (Also, a note for all my readers who didn't see 'Once Upon a Time in Wonderland', the Jabberwocky is introduced there, but I'll cover the basics on her for anyone who didn't see the show).

Next up: Chapter Seventy-Two—"Promises Broken," in which August tries to explain, Jefferson returns with the Jabberwocky, Regina goes after David's heart, Rumplestiltskin gives some good advice, and Zelena pulls an absolute game changer. Back in the past, Regina rushes to Daniel's side, believing he is dying.