Warning: Violence and mild torture this chapter.

Chapter Seventy-Eight—"Love Over Power"

Only his anger and worry kept Rumplestiltskin from becoming a quivering mess of terror. The thought of handing anyonehis dagger was utterly paralyzing, but Cora? Rumplestiltskin knew exactly what a good portion of her control over him would entail, knew he was handing himself over into a situation far worse than that he'd suffered while under the curse. He wouldn't be able to 'please' himself out of anything, now; the curse was broken and so were his caveats. Once she had the dagger, Cora would be able to do whatever she wanted to him. He'd have no defenses, no way to stop her. And he'd have to obey her.

But if the alternative was letting Baelfire die—or even taking the chance he might die—Rumplestiltskin would make this choice every time. But that didn't mean he would ever be comfortable with it, even though he buried his fears carefully while riding to the edge of the woods in the Savior's car. Under other circumstances, the irony of that situation would have made him laugh. Right now, though, crammed into that little yellow bug of Miss Swan's and thinking about what was going to happen, Rumplestiltskin had no time for humor.

"I, uh, take it Renee is your biological daughter, too?" Emma asked after a few minutes of silence.

He had to swallow to speak around the lump in his throat. "Her name is Gabrielle."

"Right."

Another minute ticked by, but the Savior was apparently in the mood for conversation.

"So…this contract thingy is going to keep your family safe from Cora?" she asked, though Rumplestiltskin had no idea why she'd care about that.

Kill her now, his curse whispered in his mind. Destroy everyone. Who cares about the boy? He likely hates you, anyway. He's probably in on this. The screams were probably false. He always wanted you to give up the—With an effort, Rumplestiltskin tore his mind away from those thoughts. Bae had been right. This curse brought with it nothing but misery…and the ability to keep his family safe.

"Yes," he answered after a moment. Then he chose to explain more, figuring that it wouldn't hurt for the Savior to know this. "If Cora breaks it, or forces me to do so, the dagger will revert to me. The nature of magic itself will make sure of that."

"Can she…make you hurt them?" Emma sounded hesitant, and a little horrified.

"Yes."

There was nothing else to say on that front, and he really just wanted the Savior to shut up.

Leroy and Astrid had been walking together when the redheaded former mermaid bumped right into the tall man who had been Cora's cook. Neither of them knew him well, but Astrid had been helping get the former Basement residents settled into Granny's, which meant she'd already made friends with her.

But the dark haired man the mermaid ran into seemed to know her. "Ariel?" he gasped, a huge smile growing on his face.

"No!" Immediately, Ariel started backing away, her face a picture of terror. She tripped over a flower pot and barely caught herself, but her eyes never left the man. His smile faltered; she started crying. "No, no, no, no!"

"Ariel, what's wrong?"

"Get away from me, Eric!" she cried, leaning down to pick up the flower pot, as if to defend herself. Realizing that something was terribly wrong, Leroy started forward, releasing Astrid's hand. Ariel was terrified, and he had to help.

"You heard her, buddy—" he started to say, trying to get between the two. But he was too far away, and suddenly Ariel launched herself at Eric, the flower pot held high over her head.

"Ariel, don't!" Eric cried, but it was far too late.

Leroy grabbed for her and missed, but he was close enough to see the utter horror in Ariel's eyes as she smashed the hard clay pot down on Eric's head. It didn't break right away, although Eric fell immediately, and Ariel kept smashing and smashing at it, even as the pot went to pieces in her hands. After the third or fourth blow, he managed to pull her away, and she was sobbing by then.

"Stop me, please stop me. Save him!" Ariel cried, struggling to get away from him.

"What the hell is wrong with you, sister?" he demanded as he fought to keep a grip on her. Astrid had rushed over to Eric, but she was shaking her head as she tried to find a pulse. There was a huge puddle of blood under Eric already, and his skull looked cracked open.

"Please let him be okay," Ariel whispered into Leroy's shoulder. "I don't want to kill him, but she made me!"

Nothing about this situation made sense. "Who made you?"

"The Evil Queen. She cursed me to kill him if I saw him again, and I tried so hard to stay away…" Ariel moaned brokenly.

The ambulance arrived a few minutes later, as did a huge crowd, but it was too late. Ariel had already killed her True Love, fulfilling the Lover's Curse Cora had put on her twenty-nine years earlier.

Rumplestiltskin felt ice cold by the time they made it to the well, felt almost numb and like he was barely breathing, but he still felt the magical tripwire when they passed over it. Cora was no fool, and she wasn't patient enough to wait for him to show up, so she'd created a small magical alert to notify her when he arrived. Rumplestiltskin, however, hardly cared. He just wanted to get this over with. At least I'll get to see him, he thought, a tiny bit of joy peeking its way through his terrified despair. I can say I'm sorry. He deserves that much.

Balefire deserved that and more. Rumplestiltskin had torn worlds apart just to get the chance to apologize to his beloved son, and he would not squander that opportunity now, no matter who was watching. He couldn't do what Bae had always wanted, couldn't be rid of this loathsome curse and the power that ruled him, but at least he could say he was sorry. That apology was three centuries overdue, and he would make it if it was the last thing he ever got to say to his boy. After all, I'm damn certain that Cora isn't going to let me spend time with my family once she has the dagger, he thought emptily. He knew her too well for that. She would have complete control over him and no reason to hide it. Rumplestiltskin did not expect to be going home any time soon. If ever.

Finally, Cora appeared in a cloud of purple smoke, with a young man by her side. But this wasn't the boy that Rumplestiltskin had expected. This was a man, probably around Emma's age, with a goatee and years of hard living etched into his face. His hands were bound in front of him, and he looked at Cora with a familiarly mulish expression—until his eyes met Rumplestiltskin's, and he jerked back in surprise.

"Neal?" Emma's shocked voice came too quietly for anyone but Rumplestiltskin to hear it. Cora was still twenty or so feet away, and she'd only spoken in a whisper. Quickly, Rumplestiltskin's head whipped around to look at her; somehow, she knew this man, but that was a danger in and of itself.

Don't let Cora know, he tried to tell the Savior with his eyes, even as his internal sense of irony peaked. My son had a life in this world, a life without me. And he knows the Savior. Because the man at Cora's side—Baelfire, there is no doubt he is Baelfire—had definitely noticed Emma, too, and was a little too studiously pretending not to look at her. Cora, however, was too busy watching Rumplestiltskin to comment.

"Are you satisfied, Rumple?" she asked, and he could hear the victory in her voice.

"That's not a word I'd use at the moment, dear," he snapped. But the answer to her question was an unqualified yes; telling someone was related to you was easy, if you were a sorcerer. The threads of magic linking them were there to see, particularly when they were this close together. This was his son, as unfamiliar as his appearance was. And he was hurt.

Where did you think the screams came from, you fool? You know better than anyone how Cora likes to leave marks. Sitting on his rage was hard, but now was not the time to let his internal demon out to play. Cora would make plenty use of his worse side here shortly; he needed to be the best that he could be. For Bae.

"Well, then," Cora said, lifting her chin and staring at him imperiously. "Let's have it."

Rumplestiltskin chuckled without feeling the slightest shred of humor. "Oh, no. Not until you sign the contract."

"You don't trust me to keep our deal?"

He met her eyes levelly. "Not in the slightest."

"You'll regret that," Cora snapped, and Rumplestiltskin shrugged, stepping forward to hand her the contract. In doing so, he found himself closer to his son than he had been in three centuries, and his calm demeanor faltered as he met brown eyes so very like his own.

"You're really doing this," Bae whispered as Cora unfolded the contract, reading it quickly.

"Did you think I wouldn't?" he answered just as quietly, swallowing hard.

"I…I wasn't sure," his son admitted quietly. "When I left…"

"I know," Rumplestiltskin cut him off gently. "I was different. I was a fool."

He wanted to say more, but not with Cora standing so close. Besides, she'd already turned to him, pen in hand, demanding: "Is this all?"

"Don't tempt me to add more," he retorted. Of course, they both knew he couldn't; Rumplestiltskin had pushed as far as he dared. Cora had him over a barrel, with his son bound and under her control. He could feel her magic wrapping around Bae, could feel it waiting for him to try something. The shackles Bae wore were designed to kill him if Rumplestiltskin tried anything, up to and including killing Cora.

Besides, he never broke a deal, and they had an agreement. He'd only insisted on putting that in writing because he didn't trust Cora further than he could throw her. Without magic.

Smirking, Cora signed the contract with a flourish, and only looked slightly miffed when the old fashioned parchment disappeared from her hands. Rumplestiltskin was no fool; knowing Cora, she'd break their deal eventually and attempt to use the contract to get around it, so he sent it home, to his safe in his study. Belle already knew to keep it safe. Cora, however, reached out and put a hand on his arm, and it took all of Rumplestiltskin's self-control not to flinch away from her. And he knew his face showed how he felt about her touching him, probably all too clearly.

"Say your goodbyes, then, Rumple." Her victorious smile ruined the small flicker of humanity she'd just displayed. "And never say I wasn't kind to you."

Just do it. Break your deal. Kill her now, his curse whispered toxically as the shackles bounced off of Bae's wrists, rattling to the ground. But he kept it firmly in check as Cora backed away. She was at least considerate enough to give him a little privacy for this conversation, but even had she not, Rumplestiltskin thought he might not have cared. He had waited three centuries for this moment, had spent years rehearsing everything he might say. And yet, master wordsmith though he was, all of those carefully plotted out lines flew out of his mind right then, and he swallowed nervously, left face to face with the boy he had abandoned. But he took a ragged breath, the insidious voice of his curse completely drowned beneath the maelstrom of emotion whipping through him, and began to speak:

"You were right, Bae. You were always right. I was a coward, and I never should have let you go. I know it's little consolation, but I just want you to know that ever since you left, ever since I let you go, I've been looking for you. And now that I've finally found you… I know I can't make up for the past"—his voice cracked—"for the lost time. All I can do is say that I'm sorry. I don't…expect you to forgive me. But I'll do everything I can to keep you safe, even if you never want to see me again."

Rumplestiltskin burned to beg his son for forgiveness, but being married to Belle had taught him a lot. Forgiveness had to be earned, he finally understood. No amount of pretty words or apologies would get his relationship with his son back; Rumplestiltskin himself had ruined that. He had no right to expect anything out of Bae. He could only give as truthful and heartfelt apology as he could, and hope for the best. He's your son, Rumple, Belle had told him earlier that day. He might be angry with you, but beneath that, he still loves you. Give him a chance to see how much you love him, and everything will work out.

He hoped she was right, but Rumplestiltskin didn't anticipate getting the chance to find out.

"You…you look like you did. Before," Bae said after a moment, his tone uneven and his expression torn.

Rumplestiltskin shrugged a little brokenly. "I feel rather like that at the moment," he replied wryly, referencing the town coward they both knew he'd been.

"You shouldn't do this," his son said unexpectedly, stepping forward awkwardly. "She'll have your power, and—and she said a few things about what she wants to do to you. That woman is sick, Papa."

"I know what she is," he replied softly, trying desperately to ignore the way his heart leapt on that one simple word. Papa. "That's why I can't leave you with her."

"Papa—"

Pushing aside his insecurities before they could rise, Rumplestiltskin stepped forward and placed a hand on Bae's cheek, pulling his son forward so that he could kiss his forehead. They didn't have much time; Cora was undoubtedly impatient already, but Rumplestiltskin had to say this much.

"I love you, Bae," he whispered raggedly. "I know I've made unforgivable mistakes, but I love you more than the world. I need you to know that."

"I can't just leave you to do this!"

He pulled back enough to smile crookedly. "I made a deal, son. And I've only ever broken one deal in my life. This won't be the second one." Blinking back tears, Rumplestiltskin forced himself to let go of Baelfire and pulled the dagger out of his jacket, staring at it for a moment. "I chose this over you once. Never again."

Looking up, he dared to meet his son's eyes, surprised to see determination there, not anger or disgust. "I'll get it back for you," Bae vowed unexpectedly, the promise rocking Rumplestiltskin to his core. "This isn't over."

He had to swallow hard before he could find his voice, and even then it was thick with emotion.

"Go with Emma. She'll show you what you need to know." With that, Rumplestiltskin stepped away from his son, knowing that if he didn't now, he never would.

Because he wanted nothing more than to stay here, to tell Bae everything, to say that he had a stepmother and a half-sister, to try to tell him that Rumplestiltskin was trying to be better. He wanted so desperately to spend more time with his son, because these few stolen moments were not enough. They never could be. He had waited three centuries for this, and just when Baelfire might actually forgive him, Rumplestiltskin had to walk away. And yet—if this was the only way to keep his beloved son safe, he would make this deal with the devil a thousand times over. So, he started walking towards where Cora now stood a dozen feet away, the dagger heavy in his hand.

"Papa," Bae called suddenly, making him turn. "I do forgive you. I'm still mad…but I love you, too."

He knew his smile was watery. "Thank you, Bae." The words were utterly inadequate, and he barely managed to regain any of his composure before he turned to face Emma. "Get him out of here, Sheriff. Please."

Emma nodded, and Bae didn't seem to argue as she grabbed him by the arm, leading him down the hill. That left Rumplestiltskin to face Cora, who was smiling contentedly, her eyes burning with a fire that he knew all too well. Stopping five or six feet away from her, Rumplestiltskin paused, desperately not thinking about how afraid he was. My son is safe, he told himself. My family is safe. That's what matters. And thinking of them was what gave him the strength to do what needed to be done, instead of running away like the coward he had always been.

Rumplestiltskin threw the dagger at Cora's feet.

Neal walked down the hill in a daze, still trying to wrap his mind around everything that had happened. Cora had told him that she intended to trade him for the dagger, but Neal had never for one moment actually thought that his father would do that. He'd been braced to die, to be tortured more, or for—frankly—anything else to happen. But not that. His father had proven long ago that he wasn't going to trade his power for his son. After all, the Dark One wasn't really his father. It was just this monster that inhabited Rumplestiltskin's body and had his memories, along with some of his mannerisms. His father had died the day the Duke's castle burned down; his body had just continued on with this other thing inside it.

Or so Bae had thought. He'd been so sure...until now.

Now his father had traded the dagger—and his freedom—to a psychopath to keep Neal safe. They hadn't seen one another in an eternity, and now this? Cora had only whipped him a little, seemingly more interested in making his father suffer than him. Neal was smart enough to know that the torture had been for effect, so that she could record it and give that to his father. Apparently, it worked, he thought, blinking rapidly as he followed Emma out of the woods. He still wasn't sure what to think of the entire situation, and probably wouldn't be able to sort out his emotions for hours yet. Instead, he chose to focus on the present for now. There was a road up ahead, one of those bumpy country roads that he generally hated.

But there was a familiar yellow bug sitting on that road, which made Neal stumble to a stop. "You kept the car?"

"Yeah, uh, August said you gave it to him," Emma replied, giving him a funny look. "Along with twenty thousand dollars that he kind of kept."

"August kept the money?" Neal spat before he could stop himself. "That bastard!"

Really, in the grand scheme of things, a minor matter of theft wasn't a big deal, even if Neal had meant for Emma to get the car and the money as an apology, as a way to start her life afresh. He'd always regretted letting her go to jail, knowing that his own actions that day had been as cowardly as anything his father had ever done. He'd come back to Storybrooke to make that right, but had he managed to screw everything up instead?

Emma shrugged. "I managed," she said, gesturing at the passenger seat. "Get in?"

"Sure, yeah," Neal nodded, ducking into the car and buckling his seatbelt. But he could only distract himself with that for so long, and there were a thousand and one things that needed saying and doing. One above anything else, though.

Emma's eyes were on the road as she started the car, and she wasn't saying anything in the awkward silence, which meant that Neal needed to.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out, wishing he could sound a lot more suave, but figuring that honesty would work. It seems to be one of those days. "For sending you to jail. And not backing you up. When August told me about the curse and that you were from the Enchanted Forest, I should have stayed with you instead of running away."

Green eyes flicked to his face. "August told me that he called the cops."

"Yeah, but you went to jail for watches I stole," he argued. "He might have called, but it's still my fault. I…I just wanted you to find your family. But I shouldn't have done it that way, and I'm sorry."

"I was mad at you for a really long time," she admitted quietly. "And maybe I still am. But I get wanting to run away from all this crap. It's kind of unbelievable."

She hadn't accepted his apology yet, but that was okay. Neal might have pressed, but he still had his own words ringing in his ears, his own old demons and resentment. He'd abandoned Emma just like his father had abandoned him, and he needed to be man enough to apologize without expecting anything in return. If Papa can manage that, I can, too. So, he just took a deep breath and turned to the myriad of problems they faced. He was okay with working for Emma's forgiveness. At least she hadn't hit him yet.

"I'm gathering that Cora is the Evil Queen whose curse you were supposed to break," he said, clearing his throat and trying not to sit back against the bug's worn seat. His back was still sore as hell, but he supposed he could find a healer here—or just go to the damned hospital. Man, I'm starting to think like the old world again in a hurry, he thought, and wasn't sure how he felt about that. "But have you broken it?"

"Yeah. Just this morning, though it feels like a lifetime ago," Emma answered with a sigh. "So…you're Gold's son, huh?"

"Gold?"

"Rumplestiltskin, sorry. That was his name here, though he seemed to remember who he was," she explained, the old world name sounding odd on Emma's very modern tongue. "Unlike everyone else."

"I'm not surprised. He's always been smart." And sneaky. And tricky. Even before becoming the Dark One, Bae's papa had been smarter than everyone else around them. Rumplestiltskin just hadn't had a lot of opportunities to demonstrate those smarts.

"So, is that why you came to Storybrooke?" Emma asked hesitantly. "I mean, you two didn't set this up?" Her voice dropped to a whisper, and Neal's head snapped around as she said, barely loud enough for him to hear: "Did you?"

"No!" With an effort, he lowered his voice, swallowing hard. "Emma, why do you think I ran the other direction as quick as I could? I wanted to stay the hell away from magic and magical worlds, and suddenly here's August, telling me that the girl I'm in love with his from there, and I freaked out, okay?"

Emma glanced at him, her eyes wide. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. I'm a jerk, but not that big of a jerk. I came to this world a long time ago—if I hadn't taken a couple centuries long vacation in Neverland, I'd be dead as a doornail by now," Neal explained. "And I didn't exactly leave on good terms with my dad."

"Neverland?" Emma keyed in on the worst bits immediately, of course.

"It's a long story."

"Right. I guess it's that's not so important now, unless you don't like Captain Hook," she quipped. "But anyway, about your dad. I remember that you said he'd changed. All of a sudden."

Neal wasn't sure how she remembered that conversation, their oddly honest one when they—two runaways and orphans, so far as they knew—talked about home and what it meant the first night they'd met. You remember it, he told himself, and then forced a casual shrug. "Yeah. He became the Dark One."

Emma nodded surprisingly quickly. "I remember that from Henry's book." She snorted. "I just had no idea the kid in that story was you."

"Book? What book?"

Stopping the car, Emma turned to look at him, and suddenly she seemed to be the nervous one. "It's a storybook," she explained. "Full of fairytales. It tells the story of the curse and a lot of the people in town. My parents are in it, and so are you. And your dad."

"I hope to hell no one's published that," Neal couldn't help saying. The idea of his story being written down in some book was kind of huge, but he'd spent centuries making light of things. Why change now?

"Neal."

"Yeah?" Why did she look so hesitant? He wanted to reach out and touch her, to say something comforting, but Neal was pretty sure he'd lost the right to do that more than ten years ago.

"Why did you come here, if Gold didn't set this up?" Emma asked, her voice tiny.

He grimaced. "August told me you were in trouble. I guess it was just a trap all along, and he was working with that crazy Evil Queen you beat—speaking of which, she doesn't look very defeated—but I believed him. And I thought…ah, hell. I thought that the best way to make it up to you would be to help you find your family. To help you break the curse, even if I really didn't want to be anywhere around magic."

"Oh."

She was silent for several long moments, turning to stare at the dashboard like she was trying to make up her mind on something. Once, Neal had known Emma pretty well, and he still could recognize the look on her face. So, he waited. With Emma, the best thing you could do was let her make up her own mind; if you tried to push her too had, sometimes she'd wind up doing the exact opposite of what you'd hoped. Finally, Emma whispered:

"There's something I have to tell you."

"C'mon, it can't be worse than me sending you to jail," he said, trying a smile on for size. But Emma only pulled her phone out, opening the photo gallery and pulling up a picture of a kid who looked around ten.

"This is Henry," she said quietly, and Neal saw her swallow hard. "I gave him up when he was born…but he's my son."

Had someone dropped an anvil on Neal's head, it would have been less shocking. Given the way today had been, the fact that this could flabbergast him was saying something, but for several seconds, his brain just shut down. He knew his jaw had flopped open like a dead fish, but numbers were whirling in his mind, and Neal Cassidy had never been an idiot.

"How…how old is he?" he finally managed to ask.

"Ten," Emma answered. "Almost eleven."

"Is he—is he mine?" Somehow, the words made it out around the lump in his throat, and part of Neal was screaming that it couldn't be, but Emma nodded minutely in response, and he felt the world drop out from under his feet. I have a son, he realized. One who I abandoned just like I was abandoned.

It was a good thing he was sitting down, because otherwise, Neal thought he might have fallen flat on his face. Or thrown up. And he wasn't quite sure that he wasn't going to do the later, either. He was stuck in an emotional whirlwind, thinking about a son he'd never known about—Henry, Emma had said his name was. His name is Henry—and about how he'd inadvertently done the same thing his father had done to him. Only Neal hadn't even had the opportunity to screw things up, first. He'd never even known. God. I think I understand how Papa feels right now.

Illogically, and for the first time in at least fifty years, Neal really wished his father was there right now. Because Rumplestiltskin had been a good dad, right up until everything had gone to crap, and Neal really needed someone to lean on right now. Except he didn't have that. He was sitting in a car with the ex-girlfriend he'd betrayed, while his dad's dagger was in the clutches of a psychopathic Evil Queen, and he had a son he'd never even met. Hands shaking wildly, he reached out and took the phone when Emma offered it, staring at a little boy with messy brown hair and his own brown eyes. Henry was smiling, and he looked happy. He looked like a good kid.

"You never told me," he finally managed to say, trying to keep his tone from becoming accusatory. After all, she just had told him, so whatever Emma's previous intentions had been didn't really matter. Neal wanted to be angry, but he wasn't sure he had the right, so he stepped on the desire to shout at her. It wouldn't help, and sure as hell wouldn't make his crazy day any better.

"It was a closed adoption," Emma explained, still not looking at him. "I wasn't supposed to ever see him again, until he showed up on my doorstep in Boston and dragged me to Storybrooke."

"He what?" Despite the seriousness of the situation, Neal found himself smiling. Resourceful little bastard, my son is. He barely managed not to laugh when Emma glared at him half-heartedly.

"Yeah. He got adopted by—get this—my step-aunt and my dad. Who Cora had married to one another under the curse."

"So, your mom's evil stepsister adopted your kid?" he had to ask. He knew the common fairytale tropes as well as anyone, and although Snow White wasn't supposed to have an evil stepsister, it kind of figured.

Emma snorted with laughter. "No, actually. Mary Marg—ack, my mom—and Regina actually get along really well. Or so they both have said, anyway." She grimaced. "Regina's not around right now."

"Dead?"

"Sleeping curse," she corrected him, and Neal really wanted to bash his head into the car window.

Well, wasn't that typical? "Damn."

"Yeah." Emma grimaced again, leaning back in her seat and giving him a bemused look. "Best I can figure, my mom and I are going to move in with my dad, into the house he shared with Regina. Henry's already got a room there, and it's not like David and Regina were sleeping together, anyway, so we'll all be one big happy family."

Her voice got a little strained there at the end, a little high pitched with something almost like very well-contained hysteria. Again, Neal burned to reach out to her, and finally gave into the urge, cautiously putting a hand on her arm where it lay on the armrest.

"It's a bit much to get used to, isn't it?" he asked quietly.

"Henry's been telling me for months that the curse was real and I was supposed to break it, but until I got to face down with the Jabberwocky this morning, it never really sank in," she replied wryly. "And now everyone's awake, and this is supposed to be the happy ending, but Cora's still a bitch. She also seems to have missed the memo that she lost."

"Yeah, I wasn't getting that vibe from her, either," Neal chuckled, and Emma just sighed again.

"You want to meet him? Henry, I mean."

Of course he did. More than anything. But Neal had been Baelfire back in another life, and he'd learned an awful lot about deals and loopholes in Neverland. Pan had been a right bastard who never did anything he didn't specifically promise to do (and sometimes not even that). His father had been better, meticulously adamant about keeping his promises, save the one, but Neal knew from several lifetimes' experiences that magic users were notoriously capricious. Every last one of them.

"Yes, but…um…" he muttered thoughtfully, turning the facts over in his mind.

"You don't have to be worried about if he'll accept you or not. Henry's a good kid. I'll tell him I never told you about him, and he won't be mad. Not at you."

"It's not that," Neal said quickly. "It's just, well, do you know the terms of the deal my dad made with Cora?"

Emma shrugged. "His dagger for you. Why?"

"Because if she knows Henry's my kid—and papa's grandkid—that could really endanger Henry."

"Yeah, she would." The words were a hiss, and Emma's posture immediately went rigid, with all the protectiveness of a fierce mother bear radiating from her. I'd always thought she'd be a great mom, Neal thought a little sadly. I just always thought I'd get to see it. In Tallahassee.

But thinking like that wasn't going to get him anywhere, so he pushed the thoughts aside. He'd come to Storybrooke to help Emma, not to fall back in love with her. He owed her an apology, not a romance—because there was no way in hell that she wanted that. Not from him. She'd probably found someone, anyway, because ten years had passed and Emma was one hell of a desirable woman. She wasn't wearing a ring, but a lot of women didn't, and she didn't have to be married for it to be serious.

She was still wearing that swan keychain around her neck, though, Neal noticed. He just didn't say anything as they started to form a plan.

Cora's magic took them to her summer house—or, rather, she teleported herself and her will dragged Rumplestiltskin along. That was an entirely unpleasant feeling, one he'd never experienced before and did not care to again. They landed in the reception room of the large modern mansion, and Rumplestiltskin glanced around curiously, trying to shake the cold feeling of terror that the sight of his dagger in Cora's hand inspired. He'd never been to this house, though he knew of it; most of Storybrooke's residents didn't even realize that Cora's summer house existed, but Gold had owned fifty-one percent of all real estate in the town. That, and Rumplestiltskin had always known that Cora would want a bolt-hole. She always did.

Thinking about his surroundings—wood paneled and elegant though they were—did nothing to distract him. He still felt trapped, still felt like the invisible bars of a cage were pressing in on him. His magic was off, unresponsive and sluggish, and even his senses were dulled. There was a sickening sort of gravity pulling him in Cora's direction, and Rumplestiltskin tried to resist it, instead focusing on the ornate table and chairs to his left, only to find the pressure growing and growing, until he found his feet taking him to Cora. Gritting his teeth did not help him resist it. Nothing did.

The pressure lessened when he was within arms' reach, and Rumplestiltskin stubbornly rebelled against going any closer.

"This dagger is quite remarkable," Cora said softly, stroking the blade carefully with the tip of one finger. "You've never been truly controlled, have you?"

"No," he ground out, not wanting to answer but finding that the word came out almost automatically.

This is going to be dangerous, Rumplestiltskin thought as logically as he could. He had to find ways to fight it, had to find loopholes, but he felt so trapped. He knew his eyes were wide and his posture tense; his breathing was ragged and terrified. I did it for Bae, he told himself desperately. Bae is safe, and that's what counts.

Perhaps clinging that thought could let him face what was to come with a little courage.

Cora smiled. "You have to answer me, don't you, Rumple dear?"

He tried not to, and pain reared up immediately, starting at the back of his skull and blossoming rapidly. Snarling, Rumplestiltskin gave in: "Yes."

"Oh, this is going to be fun," she whispered, stepping towards him and reaching for his face. Instinctively, Rumplestiltskin tried to jerk back, but his head only twitched imperceptivity. Her expression curious, Cora stopped her hand just inches from his left cheek, studying him. "I don't have to tell you to stay still, do I?" she asked. "I can just…will it."

They both knew the answer, but she was going to make him say it.

"Yes," Rumplestiltskin admitted, digging deep within his anger to find a way to glare at her instead of showing his terror. He snapped the next words. "You can."

Her hand continued its journey, and fingers traced his left cheekbone, the touch feather-light, but enough to make him shudder. Enough to take him back to nights tied down and—

Don't do this! Not now, he told himself desperately, squeezing his eyes shut. Rumplestiltskin had to control his fears, now more than ever. What had happened in the past didn't matter. What was going to come couldn't matter. He had to be strong, for his family. And he could take refuge in his fury, could call upon his curse's anger over being trapped like this. Oh, it hated being controlled almost as much as he did—

"Open your eyes," Cora commanded, and they snapped open before he could even contemplate fighting the order. She smiled. "Better."

Cora's hand drifted into his hair, brushing it back against his shoulders and then moving up to trace his jaw. Again, Rumplestiltskin tried to pull away, trying to feed his anger and find strength in it, but her smile robbed him of that. He would not shake. He wouldn't.

"I would hardly call this better, dearie," he snarled, just to fill the silence and force down his terror.

"But your opinion doesn't matter, does it?" she asked, still smiling. "This dagger"—it came up, still held in her left hand, to touch the bottom of his chin oh-so-lightly—"makes you my slave. Doesn't it?"

He didn't want to answer that, but pain reared up, and again, they both knew it was true. Teeth gritted, Rumplestiltskin spat the word out: "Yes."

"Say it." He could hear the power in the demand, the swell of her ego.

"No."

Even a verbal refusal was hard to force out, and immediately, fireworks exploded in his head. Crying out, Rumplestiltskin's hands came up, and he tried to double over, but Cora had wanted him standing like this, so standing he would remain. Black, red, and then white spots arced through his vision, and he staggered helplessly, unable to see through the pain. The pressure kept increasing, too, and a part of Rumplestiltskin knew beyond a doubt that it would keep doing that until he gave in. Cora, however, was not so patient.

"Say it," she repeated, and the pressure increased tenfold, drawing a ragged gasp out of Rumplestiltskin.

"I am your slave," he whispered, hating himself and able to taste the shame, but he couldn't fight this. Soon enough, the curse would have forced the words out of him, one way or another, and the pain was excruciating.

Fortunately, the pressure subsided once he submitted, and after a few moments, Rumplestiltskin was able to see again. Cora's smile had only grown.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?"

He snorted, a raw sound of pain and derision, fury rising to replace the agony now that it was gone. Cora, however, did not give him a chance to find some way to defy her.

"Then get on your knees," she told him, the words quiet but no less powerful because of it. She could force him, they both knew, send him crashing down with the mere power of her will and the dagger, but no, Cora wanted to make him do it himself.

The pressure started to build immediately, before Rumplestiltskin could even decide if he wanted to try to resist or not. Perhaps it was his imagination, but the pain seemed to build faster now, spider webbing outwards from the back of his skull and radiating waves of agony into his mind. He wanted to whimper, and then did before he could stop himself. His eyes were watering by the time Rumplestiltskin lowered himself to his knees. But he glared at Cora, refusing to let the pain escape still more, channeling his hatred and his fury into strength. It almost worked.

She just looked down at him, his old lover who now commanded his soul, smiling contentedly. But there was a mischievous little gleam in her eyes that made his stomach roll. Think of Bae. Think of Belle, of Gabi, of everyone you have to fight for, he told himself desperately. You have to be strong for them. Yet here he was, on his knees before Cora, utterly unable to fight her. And then she dug into their shared past, knowing exactly how to utterly humiliate him.

Cora was the only one he had ever told that story to, back when he'd thought he might be falling in love. The command came whisper-soft and almost seductive:

"Kiss my boot."

A/N: Check out my tumblr (toseehowthestoryends) to see a wonderful piece of art done by the incomparable Kamden for this chapter! Also, thank you all—particularly the Guests whose reviews I can't PM—for the wonderful response to the last chapter! You made a bad week much better.

Now, a public service announcement! I'll be on vacation next week, so I'll be posting on Monday and Thursday instead of the usual days. I probably won't have time to respond to reviews while I'm gone, but so long as the internet holds up, I'll get the chapters posted. But please don't think I'm ignoring you or not grateful! I'll just be very busy. :)

Up Next: Chapter Seventy-Nine—"Freedom and Families," where Neal meets his stepmother and sister (making a hilarious mistake while he's at it), Cora explores the limits of her new power, and Emma tries to make sense of everything.