Warning: mentions of rape/non-con here.

Chapter Seventy-Nine—"Freedom and Families"

"So, where are you taking me, anyway?" Neal asked as Emma drove the car around the edge of town, taking one residential street and then another.

"I promised Gold that I'd take you to his house," she answered enigmatically, and that made him throw her a quizzical look.

"Why would you do that?"

Emma fidgeted, and the way her hands shifted nervously on the steering wheel made Neal a little suspicious. Ten years might have passed since they'd see one another, but he still knew her tells; Emma wasn't saying something, and whatever that was had to be significant. Her eyes were suddenly very focused on the road, and she looked like she was searching for a careful answer. Of course, Neal didn't exactly have a leg to stand on when it came to demanding anything out of Emma, and he knew that, but he was still wary.

"Emma?" he asked when she said nothing, and his ex-girlfriend—the mother of his child!—sighed.

"I'm really not the one who should tell you this," she grumbled immediately.

"Tell me what?" Neal couldn't help pressing.

Emma swallowed, glancing his way as if to gauge his reaction. "You've, uh, got a sister."

"I've got a what?" His voice might have gone a bit squeaky on that one, but who could blame him? Out of all the things Neal had imagined Emma saying, that one hadn't even been on the list. The idea of his father having another child—ever—hadn't so much as entered his mind. For all the mixed feelings he had about his father now (leftover anger, confusion, and unexpectedly deep worry), Neal had never once even thought that somewhere, somehow, his father might have made it so that he was no longer an only child. I'm not sure I want to know, Neal decided as the bug rolled to a stop in front of a giant pink house. And even if I do, I doubt Emma knows the details.

"Yeah, well, at least your dad doesn't look your age," Emma retorted, putting the car in park and climbing out.

"You've lost me now," he replied, unbuckling and getting out. While he did so, Neal shot the pink house a dubious glance. It was definitely a Victorian style mansion, nice and, well, huge, but not exactly what he would have thought his father was into. Then again, I haven't seen Papa for centuries. A lot has changed…including him.

I think.

Rumplestiltskin had seemed different when they'd spoken, regretful and more himself than Baelfire had seen him in the months following his becoming the Dark One. He'd been so like the father Bae had once loved so much that it hurt, and now Neal wasn't sure what to make of any of it. Centuries of resentment and anger didn't just vanish in an instant, but part of him wanted them to. And now I have a sister. Damn.

"Coming?" Emma asked, and Neal abruptly realized that she'd made it halfway up the walk while he stared stupidly at the house.

"Yeah. Sure." Somehow, he forced a smile, but Neal had no idea where it came from. He hadn't expected anything like this to happen when he headed to Storybrooke; hell, he'd expected that someone would have offed his father by now, rather like his father had killed the previous Dark One, whatever his name had been. That possibility had seemed logical enough, anyway. Instead of dying, Papa apparently reproduced, he thought wryly, jogging to catch up with Emma just as she rang the doorbell.

"You okay?" his ex-girlfriend asked.

Neal shrugged. "It's all relative, right?"

"Ooh. Bad pun."

For a moment, they grinned at one another, and just for a split second, it was like old times. Once, they'd been so damned in tune with one another that they could read the slightest glance. A slight shadow of that closeness still existed, and part of Neal burned to bring it back. He almost opened his mouth to say something along those lines—undoubtedly something completely stupid, too—when the door opened, revealing a very attractive brunette who looked younger than he did. Somehow, that was a relief. The last thing he needed was a sister who looked older than him.

She definitely didn't get those eyes from Pop, was his first thought. His second was that she looked like someone who was devastated but trying to be brave, wearing a smile that said she was determined to be welcoming. Her eyes widened as she looked at him, and then the brunette turned to Emma.

"Thank you for bringing him, Emma," she said softly, in an accent that Neal couldn't place at all.

"It's, uh, no problem," Emma replied, looking awkward. "We kinda knew one another already."

That made the brunette blink. "You do?"

"Long story," Emma said shortly, glancing at Neal, who shrugged. He was about to open his mouth when the other woman spoke asked hesitantly:

"So…it's done?" She bit her lip, looking very young and vulnerable.

Emma winced. "Yeah."

"Right," the brunette said brightly, turning to Neal with a smile he could tell was forced. "You must be Baelfire. I have to admit that you're a little older than I'd expected."

"Older—?" Blinking, he cut himself off. "Right. Yeah, no, I've been around a bit. I actually go by Neal these days, though."

"Neal it is, then," she replied, holding out a hand. "I'm Belle."

He took the surprisingly delicate and soft hand, smiling wryly. "And you're my sister."

"What? Oh, no." Blue eyes went wide, and the hand pulled out of his surprisingly quickly, leaving Neal confused.

"But Emma said…"

"You might as well come inside," Belle chuckled. "Gabrielle—your sister—is in the living room. She's three and a half."

"Three and a—damn," Neal managed, and somehow wrapping his mind around having a three-year-old sister was even harder than thinking that this attractive brunette might be his sister. "Then, if you don't mind me asking, who the hell are you?"

That made her laugh outright, and Emma mutter something under her breath that Neal couldn't catch. Turning to glare at her didn't help; Emma only shrugged.

"Not my fault you're an idiot."

"You could have mentioned it," he shot back.

Emma smirked. "Watching you flounder's always been fun." Then she turned to Belle. "I've got to get going. There's no telling what's going on in town right now."

"Be safe," Belle said quietly, and Neal turned to look at his ex.

"Call me in the morning?" he asked, wishing the question didn't sound so much like a plea.

Thankfully, Emma nodded. "I will," she promised, and headed down the walk as Neal followed Belle into his father's house.

The mansion was as nice inside as out, tastefully furnished and with really nice stained glass around the front doors. It sure didn't look like even the nicer hovel they'd moved into after his father became the Dark One; that place had overflowed with pointless stuff and everything had clashed. This home, however, might have had antique decorations, but they somehow looked like they belonged. Still, he wasn't there to look around like the fifth grader he'd never been, so Neal cleared his throat, preparing to repeat his previous query, albeit less rudely. Belle, however, got in first as she closed the door.

"To answer your question," she said in that soft accent of hers, "I suppose I'm your stepmother."

"My what?" He'd expected a sister. Not a sister and a stepmother. But one did kind of lead to the other, and Neal felt like an idiot for staring at her open-mouthed like this. Not like he could stop himself.

"Your father and I married in four years before the curse," Belle explained, but that only made things more weird.

"Sparkly scales and all?" he couldn't help asking. After all, the dagger still could control his father, which meant he was still the Dark One. And that meant the wild looks were still disturbingly on the table.

"And the annoyingly high-pitched voice," she confirmed, and Neal just stared. Belle shrugged. "It's a long and complicated story, but we fell in love. We were separated for much of the curse—your father can be extremely paranoid when it comes to protecting those he loves—but he woke up when Emma arrived. Rumple woke me up not long after."

Rumple. Interesting. Cora had called his father that, used the nickname that Neal remembered the Dark One completely abandoning. He'd killed someone for addressing him so familiarly, way back in the beginning, yet here were two women that did. Then again, if Belle's married to him, I suppose that would give her a good reason to. I hope.

"Please say something," Belle said quietly, which made him realize he'd been quiet for far too long.

"Sorry," Neal replied. "It's…a lot to take in. When I, uh, left, there wasn't much loveable about Pop."

"I know. He told me."

I bet he didn't. "How much?"

"Rumple told me that letting you go was the worst thing he'd ever done. He spent centuries looking for you," Belle answered immediately, and the compassion in her eyes was almost unnerving. "He loves you so very much. I don't know how much time Cora gave the two of you—"

"We got to talk," Neal cut her off quickly, not wanting to get into details. Thinking about what his father had done for him hurt a surprising amount. "I chose this over you once," Rumplestiltskin had said. "Never again."

"Good," she replied, and then reached over to pick up a vial off a side table in the hall without asking for details. "Then drink this, and then perhaps I can introduce you to your sister. Gabi is very eager to meet you."

"She knows about me?"

"Of course she does. She always has."

That was…touching, somehow. Neal had always imagine that his father had forgotten all about him after deciding he wanted power more than he wanted his son, but perhaps things weren't that simple at all. But he really wanted something more concrete to focus on, so he glanced at the vial Belle was offering.

"What is that, anyway?" he had to ask.

"A potion that will heal your wounds," Belle answered bluntly. "Rumple figured that, knowing Cora, you wouldn't be all right. And that she probably wouldn't give him time to heal you."

"I've had worse," Neal said automatically, but still accepted the vial and uncorked it. The potion smelled unexpectedly good, like flowers of some sort. Then again, he remembered a few plants and flowers in Neverland that could do the same kind of thing, even if they did take a few days to fix things up. Not that pain ever stopped Pan from playing his 'games', he thought bitterly, and then pushed the thought aside. This wasn't Neverland, and his father probably knew what he was doing.

"That's not a reason to be in pain," she pointed out bluntly, and Neal threw his stepmother (and wasn't that idea enough to break his brain) a crooked smile.

"Guess not." This was the moment, wasn't it? He could choose to trust his father—to trust the man who had just given up his freedom to save the son he hadn't seen in centuries—or not. The answer was surprisingly easy.

Neal downed the potion.

Cora left him on his knees after he kissed her boot, looming over Rumplestiltskin and demanding answers to any question she could think of regarding his curse. Stuck there and boiling with fury, Rumplestiltskin answered as simply and shortly as he could, but found that—much to his horror—he could not lie to her at all. Oh, he could evade and play with words, but in the end, he always had to answer Cora's questions. Blinding pain greeted every effort to lie or resist answering at all, and Rumplestiltskin had found himself screaming more than once when Cora turned his curse on him, using it to punish him for even attempting to fight. By now, Rumplestiltskin was breathing hard, struggling not to slump on his knees and give Cora the satisfaction of seeing him so weak.

Still, his vision was swimming and edged with red; focusing was getting harder and harder.

"Now," Cora said softly, running her fingers along the edge of the dagger. Was it just his imagination, or could Rumplestiltskin feel that slight contact? It felt like her nails were scratching at his soul. "Tell me why you wanted the curse broken."

"You know why," he retorted, his voice a little hoarse from screaming earlier. But Rumplestiltskin could still glare defiantly—at least until Cora stepped forward and reached a hand out to stroke his hair.

"Why not come to me and simply ask to leave?" she asked curiously, her light touch coming right out of so many of his nightmares. "Why back the Savior?"

Yanking away, Rumplestiltskin snarled: "Don't touch me."

"No," Cora replied coolly, and Rumplestiltskin felt the dagger's magic immobilize him. "You will not pull away from me. Ever."

Eyes wide, Rumplestiltskin froze. He couldn't stop the shiver than ran down his spine as he stared at her, caught helplessly in his own curse's trap. All he could do was stay still as Cora ran her fingers through his hair, her touch growing hard and harder, until she was scraping her nails against his skull, all because she could. And he had to take it, no matter how his skin crawled and he burned to shy away. He just wanted to run away, to hide, to be anywhere but here. Because he knew what would come later.

"Now," she said after a moment of ominous silence. "Answer my question."

From somewhere deep in a soul he hadn't known he still had, Rumplestiltskin summoned up a dark and nasty smile. "I don't like to bet on losers, dearie."

"Your judgment is clearly lacking these days, Rumple." Cora laughed softly, her hand fastening in his hair tightly enough to make Rumplestiltskin grunt. "Now," she said, a slow smile growing on her face. "Tell me about Lacey French—or is she Lacey Gold now that the two of you had your little clandestine marriage?"

"So you know about that," he growled. "What's your point?"

Answering her question with a question was dangerous, and Rumplestiltskin could feel the pressure building inside his mind. He was skirting dangerously close to the edge, but he had to. Cora already knew enough about Belle, and his formal adoption of Gabrielle in Storybrooke would keep her safe as well. Or will it? Rumplestiltskin was playing a dangerous game, and he knew it.

"I want to know about her. You said she was your maid back in the Enchanted Forest. Tell me her real name," Cora ordered, her voice firm—and now, the moment Rumplestiltskin hesitated, pain rose to meet his resistance.

"Her name is Belle," he ground out from between gritted teeth. He couldn't pull away from her, but he could turn his eyes away at least.

"And what does this Belle mean to you?" she pressed immediately, and Rumplestiltskin tried for the quick and easy answer:

"I did marry her," he said dryly, hoping to avoid the searing pain in his head and get Cora off the subject as quickly as possible.

"Look at me," the Evil Queen demanded, and Rumplestiltskin's eyes snapped to her face before he could even think about fighting. Desperately, he focused on his anger, dug into the whispers of his curse, struggling to mask his feelings from this woman who could force him to bare his soul. But it was too late. A tiny smirk was already playing over Cora's face, and she continued: "Why marry her here?"

That was easy. He could even let his anger fuel the answer: "Because I wanted to keep her safe from you."

"You love her."

It wasn't a question. He could say nothing, even when pain rose. Couldn't he?

The pressure was building, slower than before, but steady and strong. Rumplestiltskin felt an irresistible tug, but still he resisted. Marriage he could admit to, because—particularly in their world—marriage was no true indication of an emotional connection. Love, however, love was weakness, particularly in Cora's eyes. Belle was his strength, but his feelings for her were also a weakness he could ill-afford to have Cora exploit. Especially now. He'd written that contract carefully before he handed over the dagger, and Rumplestiltskin was fairly sure it would hold, but there was no knowing for certain. He had not had much time to infuse the proper magic into the agreement, and there was no reason to give Cora a reason to try to break it. Even if he knew she would eventually.

So, he gritted his teeth and resisted the steadily increasing pressure, rationalizing with his curse that Cora had made a statement that did not need either confirmation nor rebuttal. Rumplestiltskin was breathing hard, and his vision was swimming. He still couldn't look away from Cora, but the fact that he could hardly see her now was almost something of a bonus, particularly because he was doing it. He was able to resist this compulsion, just enough, and—

"Answer me," she commanded, and fiery pain made his vision go white.

Trying to bite his tongue, trying to focus on the pain and endure, Rumplestiltskin managed a short cry of agony, wordless and pained. But then the answer came out, utterly against his will: "Yes."

One word, and the pressure relented, leaving him gasping and swaying on his knees. A long moment passed as his vision cleared, and by then Cora was watching him contemplatively, her hand still fastened in his hair.

"You're fighting to protect her," she mused. "And yet I can't harm her, because you are married. So, there must be something else." Brown eyes narrowed, and then Cora laughed softly. "Oh. She loves you as well, doesn't she?"

"Yes," Rumplestiltskin gritted out, but he had to pick his battles, didn't he? Thinking his love for Belle was unrequited wouldn't change how Cora approached the situation, and trying to tell her that no one could love the Dark One was fairly foolish, given their past. Cora had seen him at his most vulnerable, and knew better than almost anyone that there was a man beneath the monster.

"That child is yours," Cora breathed, and yes, she knew very well that he was perfectly capable of fathering a child, didn't she? After all, she'd once cheated him out of one.

A glare did nothing to reduce the pressure that rose; apparently, his responses had to be verbal. "Yes," Rumplestiltskin whispered. He could protect Gabrielle with that much, at least, even if he burned to somehow stop the way Cora was flaying away at every secret he had.

"Oh, bravo, Rumple. I truly never expected that," she replied, patting his head like he was a pet. That made Rumplestiltskin snarl, but Cora only laughed again. "Were you married back in our world, or did you merely deflower your maid there?"

"Married," he snapped, goaded by the implication that he would ever have taken Belle against her will. "I think you know me better than that, dearie."

Cora's smile was full of sharp edges, and her fingers moved to under his chin, forcing his head up. "I think it's doubly delicious that I so repeatedly forced you to betray your little wife," she purred. "Now I've taken you away from her forever, and you're no more than my slave." Fingers brushed over his lips. "In every way."

Rumplestiltskin shuddered, and was so very grateful that did not require a response. She had the dagger. There was nothing he could do to stop her if she demanded he submit to her sexually, and she would. They both knew that.

He had no answer, not to Cora's hungry smile. Not when she stepped back and gestured him to his feet. Rumplestiltskin simply got up, wary and tense, watching the Evil Queen through eyes that he wished were not so wide. Even playing twenty questions was better than what was surely to come; resistance only meant pain there, not degradation or humiliation. Or rape. Just remembering previous nights in Cora's hands, both while cursed and after, made Rumplestiltskin tremble slightly. Her control over him then had been bad enough; now, it was far more complete. With the dagger, she could force him to do anything.

"In fact," Cora said softly, her eyes dark with lust and power. "Let's begin now."

Swallowing hard, Rumplestiltskin tried to voice an objection he hoped did not sound too much like a plea: "Cora…"

But she cut him off coldly. "Take your clothes off."

"Mother's busy," Zelena replied with a giggle, and Killian found himself really wishing for a bucket of water to throw at her. I wonder if she'd really turn into a screeching puddle of goo, or if that's just another thing the Land Without Magic got wrong? The pirate thought idly. Then again, I've never worn a wig of ridiculously long curls, so odds are against a bucket of water ridding me of this annoying witch.

Besides, it wasn't like he would really have tried to do her in. Zelena might be annoying, but she was Cora's daughter, and right now, Killian was on Cora's side. Whether he liked it or not. He hadn't expected the crocodile to bring Emma Swan, of all people, to that little meeting with Cora, but now she had Baelfire, and Bae was certain to tell her that Killian had played a prominent role in his own kidnapping. And Emma had also been in the bastard's shop when Killian delivered his message, which meant he'd confirmed her suspicions that he was working with Cora. I do wonder if Her Majesty had any clue that would happen, he thought grouchily. I would not put it past her to secure my loyalty by removing my options like that.

Not that there wouldn't be another opportunity to swap sides, but at the moment, Killian was not prepared to bet against Cora. Face it. The heroes are far more likely to accept a 'reformed' villain if it comes to that, he told himself. Once you betray a villain, well, villains don't forgive or forget. I can't abandon Cora until I'm certain she's going to lose, or she'll end me.

"She's the one who told me to keep an eye on Baelfire," he told Zelena a little testily. "I'm merely here to deliver said information."

"Well, you can tell me instead," the redhead retorted primly. "Mother's busy with her new toy and can't be deserved."

"New…toy?" Killian wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Rumple, of course," Zelena clarified, her eyes a little wild with victory. Almost on cue, a cry of pain came from a few rooms away, made faint by distance yet obviously loud enough at its origin. And that was definitely the damn crocodile's voice.

That realization, of course, made Killian smile. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't wish Cora on anyone, but he'd make an exception for Rumplestiltskin.

"Ah," he said, shrugging. "In that case, I'm happy to wait. Unless you want to pass a bit of information along to her?"

After all, what he had come to share was no surprise whatsoever, and stroking Zelena's ego was always useful. So long as Zelena liked him—which Killian knew she did—that provided a layer of protection. If worst came to worst, she would pester her mother into keeping him safe. And Killian had not allied himself with the Evil Queen without realizing how dangerous she was, particularly now.

"I'd be happy to," the Wicked Witch beamed, so Killian told her all about how Emma Swan had driven 'Neal Cassidy' around town and then finally to Gold's pink monstrosity. Zelena was quick enough to pick up on the fact that the Savior hanging out with the Dark One's son was as interesting as it was unexpected, and she promised to tell Cora once she was free.

For his part, Killian left Cora to play with her toy. No way was he getting in the middle of that.

Belle had never expected their first meeting to be so awkward. Rumple was supposed to be here for this, she thought, feeling tears prickle up behind her eyes. Instead, her husband had given himself to that horrible woman, and Belle could hardly even focus on the fact that she should be worried about what horrors Cora would use the Dark One's power to visit upon the town. She was too worried about what Cora would do to Rumplestiltskin as a man, not the Dark One. They hadn't spoken of it beforehand—Belle knew that Rumple hadn't wanted to so much as think about it—but that didn't mean she had no idea what Cora would do. In fact, Belle had far too good of an idea of what Cora would do to her husband.

But she couldn't afford to focus on that right now. Rumple's beloved son was here, his lost Baelfire, and Belle needed to take care of him because Rumple could not.

"So," she said as casually as she could. "Would you like to meet Gabi now?"

"Sure," he replied after a moment, looking like he wasn't sure what to make of the situation, and Belle couldn't help feel a little sorry for him.

"It's a lot to take in, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Neal said, giving her a crooked smile that reminded her painful of his father. "So, if you don't mind me asking, how'd you and Pop wind up falling in love?"

Despite the worry churning in her gut, Belle chuckled. "He saved my people from ogres, and in return, I agreed to come with him as a maid," she answered. "He was prickly and difficult at first, but once I got past that, I saw the man under the curse. And we fell in love with one another."

"Sounds like a hell of a story."

"It is." Thinking of their odd little courtship made Belle smile, if only for a moment. Then she reached out tentatively to lay a hand on Neal's arm. "Your father can be difficult sometimes, I know. And he will always be locked in a battle with the darkness within him. He's better now than he was, though he still struggles."

"He wasn't always like that, you know," was the immediate response.

"I know," Belle said simply. "But there's one thing you also need to know. The Blue Fairy gave you a bean to bring you to this world because there was no magic, yes?"

A slight frown marred Neal's handsome features. "Yeah."

"She didn't tell you the whole truth," Belle replied, knowing that Rumplestiltskin might not thank her for telling his son this, but Neal needed to know. "In a world without magic, Rumple would not have been able to use his powers, but he still would have been the Dark One. The darkness, his curse, would still have been there."

"That doesn't make any sense," he objected immediately. "Without magic…"

"As near as we can tell—and there isn't much information on the curse of the Dark One available—the core of the curse is a primordial darkness. It can exist in any world, and your father still heard the 'voice' of his curse even when there was no magic here. Just as he would have if he'd gone through that portal with you," she explained. "I'm not excusing his actions, but you should know the whole truth."

Neal was silent for several long moments, staring blankly at an antique vase that Belle had always hated. Finally, he shrugged.

"Ah, hell. I always knew it was too convenient for her," he grumbled. "I popped out in the late 1800s and lived on the streets for almost a month. I would have died out there if a family hadn't taken me in when they found me stealing, and there's no way Papa could have been that lucky." Something crossed his face, and Belle saw old pains rising to the surface, only to be forcibly suppressed. "I suppose that if I can forgive him for letting me go, I should try to dump the rest of my bitterness, too."

Her heart leapt. "You forgave him?"

"Yeah." Neal gave her that crooked smile again. "He apologized…and he meant what he said. And—I mean, he gave up his freedom for me. I know what he did. It's hard to keep hating him and thinking he'd always choose power over me when he does something like that, y'know?"

"I know," Belle said softly. At least one good thing came of this day, she thought, so glad to hear that Baelfire had forgiven his father. Rumple was so worried. Maybe this can make it a little easier for him to hold on to hope. Neal was obviously still angry—and rightfully so—but this was a start. And on the topic of beginnings, she had siblings to introduce, so she cleared her throat. "So. Are you ready to meet your sister?"

"Better late than never, right?" he quipped, and Belle led her stepson (who was obviously older than her; she hadn't missed the reference to landing in the nineteenth century, which meant there were some major gaps in Neal's story, since something had to explain how he was still alive) into the living room.

"Mamma!" her little girl greeted her cheerfully, looking up from the picture book she'd been flipping through. Gabi was just starting to be able to read a few words, which proved to be yet another example of how children in Storybrooke were advancing more quickly than they should.

"Hey, you," she said with a smile, going to sit down on the floor next to Gabrielle. "How's your book?"

"Good." Brown eyes, so very like Rumple's—and like Neal's, now that Belle thought of that—turned to look at her, going a little sad. "Is Papa coming back now?"

"Oh, sweetie…" For a moment, Belle had to blink back the urge to cry. Rumple had said goodbye to Gabrielle earlier, had explained to her that he had to go away for a little while, but such concepts were hard for even an advanced three and a half year old to grasp. Swallowing hard, she forced her voice to be steady. "Not yet. Papa can't come back yet—but someone else is here to see you."

"Is it Bay-fare?" Gabi asked immediately, taking Belle's breath away. Rumple had told her that he had to go to keep someone from hurting her brother, but neither of her parents had mentioned that Baelfire might be coming to see her. Neither had dared hope, and Gabrielle had come to that conclusion all on her own.

"Baelfire," Neal spoke up to correct her before Belle could find a way to explain that her brother's name was now Neal. Gabrielle looked up at him, and he gave her a smile a smile that was hauntingly like their shared father's before plopping down to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of them. "But you can call me Bae."

"Bae," Gabi tried the name out as Belle fought back a smile. "Okay! I'm Gabi."

"It's very nice to meet you, Gabi," he replied.

Her smile was sunny, and Belle found herself so grateful that there was someone there to distract her from the fact that her father would not come home tonight. "Nice to meet you," Gabi grinned in that precise way only a child could manage as she learned to put full sentences together. "Papa said you were gone."

"I was." Neal swallowed. "But I'm back now, and I'm gonna help your Mamma get Papa back. Okay?"

"Okay."

Belle couldn't help the way her eyes got a little watery when they met her stepson's. The moment Rumple had left to meet with Cora, Belle had felt so terribly alone, like she was facing off against the world without any allies. Her father—even if he might be released from police custody that the curse was broken—had no love for the family she'd chosen, and the heroes were likely to be absorbed in their own problems. She would always fight for Rumple, but she'd had no idea how she was going to do that alone. Now, however, it seemed like wouldn't be.

Gabi returned to her book almost immediately; she was a loving girl but had a short attention span these days, particularly when she loved the book she was reading. This one was one of her favorites, and Belle was fairly sure that Gabi might be learning to read via sheer memorization. Meanwhile, Belle looked questioningly at her stepson.

"Would you prefer I call you Neal?" she asked quietly. "It might confuse her, but Gabi's likely to assume it's a cursed name and be all right with it."

He looked down at his hands and sighed. "I spent a long time running from that, you know." Looking up, he seemed to come to a decision, and finally shrugged. "But I guess maybe I was running from the wrong things. Bae's okay. If I'm going to accept all this"—he gestured at the house—"I might as well be Baelfire again, too."

"All right. But now that that's settled, I insist you stay here with us," she told him, knowing that Rumple would never forgive her if she let his son stay at Granny's.

"You sure you have the space?" he retorted teasingly, and Belle found a real smile crossing her face again.

"I think we can find a corner for you."

Emma wasn't sure what to make of any of this, so she took a drive around the town just to clear her head. It had been a hell of a day in so many ways; she'd started the morning by staying up all night and taking Keith's shift, then missed breakfast saving Henry—and breaking the damn curse while she was at it—stopped a lynch mob and watched Maleficent turn into a dragon, forgotten to eat lunch, and then ended the day by realizing Neal was Gold's freaking son. She felt like six or seven years had passed since she'd fought goblins and that terrifying Jabberwocky, but it had really only been sixteen hours or so. But now she had to deal with the fallout.

First amongst those issues, of course, was Neal Cassidy. She'd loved him, once, with a depth and an intensity that today's Emma Swan found discomforting. She had been so much more open back then, young and in love, trusting and so certain that they would have a life together. Then everything had gone to pieces, and (as far as she'd known), Neal had dumped his own crimes on her head and gotten away scot-free. Of course, August had thrown another dozen monkey wrenches into her long-held bitterness on that front by admitting that he had called the cops and had been the brains behind that stupid little plan. None of that absolved Neal from the choices he'd made—and apologized for—but it did put things in a little bit of perspective.

I just wanted you to find your family, Neal had said, and Emma's heart clenched. Damn it all, she had found her family, even if she hardly knew what to do with them at the moment. Her parents were probably still trying to impose order on the town, and Mary Margaret—or Snow, Emma supposed, because damn the woman was different now!—was probably going to be rather disappointed that she hadn't managed to wrangle an alliance out of Gold. No, instead I watched him hand himself over to Cora, who apparently can now make him do anything she wants, Emma thought, snorting to herself. Yeah, it had been one hell of a day.

But it was time to face things, head back to Regina's house (where she and Mary Margaret were both now staying), and start figuring out how they were going to beat Cora. Her own complicated feelings about Neal could wait for another day, because Emma was so not ready to face them right now. For all I know, he's with someone else, anyway, she thought cynically. Sending someone to jail was a hell of a way to break up with a girl, after all.

"Screw this," she muttered to herself, pulling into the driveway, bleary eyed and barely able to see straight. "I've got to get some sleep."

Too tired to remember to eat, Emma wound up sleeping straight through dinner.

Cora had sent him to a cage in her damn cellar when she was done with him, though at least she had given him the dignity of his shirt and trousers afterwards. Nothing else, though. Well. Nothing else save the pair of shackles holding his hands behind his back and already making his shoulders ache.

It wasn't that Cora needed to bind him. No, she just knew he hated it, knew it made Rumplestiltskin feel helpless and trapped. She'd already woven tight commands around him that he could not escape: no using magic without explicit permission from her, no leaving the cage without the same, and no healing himself (or allowing his curse to do so). The last command left him aching and shaky, feeling vulnerable and violated in addition to being in pain. He'd had to lower himself into a sitting position carefully. It was amazing how badly his balance was impacted by having his hands bound behind him, and there was absolutely no way to get comfortable. Having Geppetto in the cage to his left, and having the old man witness the latter half of his humiliation only made things worse.

At least Cora had seen fit to rape him in private. Geppetto had only seen the rest of it, after Cora had grown sick of sex and brought him downstairs to 'punish' him. Now, Rumplestiltskin remained silent, stubbornly ignoring the old man's attempts to start any sort of conversation and staring at the far wall.

The door opened, and heels clicked on the wooden stairs, growing louder as they approached. Unable to help himself, Rumplestiltskin tensed, struggling to get up—and almost falling—because he refused to meet Cora sitting down. The concrete floor was cold against his bare feet, and burns and cuts ached fiercely when he moved, but he was not going to let her turn him into some broken toy that cowered in the corner when she approached.

Even if a large part of him wanted to do just that.

But it wasn't Cora who approached; it was Zelena. Half relieved and half worried, Rumplestiltskin forced his chin up, again digging into his anger and his darkness, letting his curse out to play in the forefront of his consciousness. He needed the darkness now. It could protect him far better than he could protect himself. Yet he had to be careful not to let it go too far, because with someone controlling him, with someone using his soul to control his curse and its power, he was at greater risk to losing himself to the Dark One than ever before. Rumplestiltskin had never imagined that he could feel so trapped as when someone else was in possession of the dagger, but Cora didn't have to shackle him to make him feel like he was in chains. He had been from the moment he gave the damned thing to her.

"Defeat looks good on you, Rumple," Zelena giggled, and he let himself snort.

Play at being strong long enough, and maybe it will become real, Rumplestiltskin told himself desperately. "You might have missed the fact that I gave that dagger up of my own free will, dearie," he said as lightly as he could. Yet his voice still caught.

"And now you're Mother's slave." She smiled brightly, stepping forward to wrap her hands around the bars. "Tell me how it feels. Tell me how much you hate obeying her every whim, while your little wife sits and home and cries for you."

"I don't have to tell you a damn thing," Rumplestiltskin snarled, his anger too close to the surface to keep from being goaded. But he wouldn't play her game. He wouldn't.

"Shall I go get the dagger from Mother and force you?" Zelena asked, and there was a dangerous glint in her eyes. "Mother already said that I can borrow it later to have a bit of playtime of my own."

Swallowing hard, Rumplestiltskin could only stare at her for a long moment. He couldn't believe—No. He could. He knew his eyes were wide, then, but he was too shocked to get that initial reaction under control for a long moment. Then, of course, his only recourse was to lash out. "Given that we both know how well our last encounter went, we both know you'll need it to get the better of me."

Magic lashed out, and too late, Rumplestiltskin realized he was defenseless. Instinctively, he called on his defenses, but they wouldn't—couldn't—answer, and Zelena's furious attack slammed into him, throwing him hard against the concrete wall at the back of the cage. The impact was hard enough to stun him, and Rumplestiltskin fell to his knees before he could catch himself, coughing painfully.

"Who has the power now, slave?" Zelena snarled furiously, already preparing another blow that he wouldn't be able to defend against.

Rumplestiltskin forced himself to his feet, swaying slightly as he looked right into her eyes. "Technically?" he asked, smiling nastily. "Your mother. But then, you never were going to 'win' without her, were you?"

Taunting her would only make things worse, but what else could he do?

A/N: Up Next: Chapter Eighty—"Last Gestures," in which Henry meets Neal, Cora decides to use Charming's heart, Rumplestiltskin lashes out in foolish defiance, and the Jabberwocky gains a new target.

Thank you again to everyone who is still reading this story, and please forgive me for not responding to reviews while I'm on vacation!