Warning: Heavy references to (non-graphic) rape and torture in this chapter.

Chapter Eighty—"Last Gestures"

The doorbell rang, and Henry raced to answer it. His house had become the central hub for running Storybrooke, and that was pretty cool. Of course, everyone knew that you had to be careful what you said in front of David—or Charming, now, Henry supposed—since Cora had his heart, but the house was still the place to be. Everything important going on happened there, and Henry was so glad to be in the middle of everything. This was what he had been waiting for ever since he'd realized that the curse was real, and he was so excited to start the first real day in a new Storybrooke where everyone remembered who they were.

So, he flung the door open without preamble, excited to see who would be the first to stop by. Emma was still in bed, as far as he knew—she'd pulled an all-nighter prior to breaking the curse, and she'd looked like she'd been run over by a truck when she'd come in, mumbling something about Cora having the Dark One's dagger. Henry'd tried to explain what that meant to Snow and Charming, even if he wasn't sure of the details, but none of them had seen Emma so far that morning to ask for more. Hopefully, whoever was at the door might have some answers—but the thirty-ish year old man standing on the doorstep with a small bag in his hand had one of the few faces in town that Henry didn't know.

"Uh, hi," he said awkwardly, his enthusiasm suddenly tempered by the fact that this guy might be on the Evil Queen's side. What if he was one of her guards or something?

A long moment passed as the stranger just stared at Henry, and then he seemed to shake himself. "Hey," he said, sounding a little shell-shocked. "Are you…Henry?"

That didn't make sense. Pretty much everyone in town knew he was. Maybe this guy was having problems with his two sets of memories, but Henry still shot back: "Who's asking?"

"My name is Neal Cassidy," was the response. "I'm an old friend of Emma's. We, uh, traveled together for a while. And she helped me find my family last night."

"Okay…" He trailed off, peering at Neal suspiciously. "That doesn't tell me why you're here."

Neal snorted. "I guess it doesn't," he shrugged. "Emma called me about fifteen minutes ago and asked me to drop by. I am at the right house, aren't I? It says Nolan on the mailbox."

"Henry?" Emma's voice suddenly called from down the hallway, getting in before he could answer the newcomer. "Is that Neal at the door?"

Oh. Well, that answered that question. Henry twisted around to see his birth mother coming around the corner, looking a lot better than she had last night. "You want me to let him in?"

"Probably a good idea, yeah," she smiled, and Henry stepped out of the way. Neal seemed to be giving him a funny look, and then he and Emma exchanged a glance that Henry couldn't read.

"It's nice to meet you," Neal said as Henry closed the door, and it took the boy a minute to realize that he was talking to him.

"It's, uh, nice to meet you, too," he answered a little confused.

Now Neal looked embarrassed and awkward. "Emma told me a lot about you last night."

"I'm glad she told someone something last night," Henry said, and immediately felt guilty for how bratty he sounded. He looked back at Emma. "Sorry. You were really tired and kind of out of it."

"Some of that's probably my fault," Neal said quickly, and Henry again looked between the two of them. Old friends? he wondered. Looks like more than that to me. "We, uh, had a lot to talk about."

"Emma?" Snow's voice came in from the other room. "Do we have a visitor?"

"Yeah," Emma replied, and then gestured at Neal. "Why don't you come on in the living room? I, uh, guess you should meet my parents."

Somehow, that seemed to make Neal a little nervous, which Henry found really weird. But when Emma's 'friend' didn't say anything right away, he piped up:

"Are you gonna try to tell me to go to my room for this?"

Emma snorted. "Would it work?"

"No."

"Then you should probably come, too," she retorted with the glimmer of a smile on her face. Henry hadn't really thought that his birth mother would try to keep him out of things, but he really didn't want his family to start being overprotective now. He'd known Emma would save him, otherwise he never would have eaten that apple, but the way his newly awakened grandparents reacted when he saw them for the first time said that they were all feeling worried about everything.

The three of them walked into the living room together, and Henry really didn't miss the odd looks Emma and Neal were still exchanging. Snow apparently didn't, either, because she came to her feet in surprise when they walked in.

"Hello," Henry's former teacher—and now probably the legitimate queen in Storybrooke, assuming they had one—spoke up warily. "I don't think I know you."

"This is Neal," Emma said quickly. "He's an old friend."

"From outside Storybrooke?" David asked immediately, looking interested. Henry's heart leapt into his throat when his adopted dad wore that expression, and apparently Snow thought the same thing.

"David, are you…?"

His face fell. "I don't know. I don't think so, but would I be able to tell? I mean, it's not like Cora couldn't make me say this, anyway."

The adults all gulped, and once again, it fell to Henry to say the obvious. "I'm not sure we should say anything in front of Dad—err, Grandpa. It sucks, but—"

"I actually might be able to help with that," Neal cut in, making all eyes turn to him as he hefted the black silk bag in his hand, offering it to David. "I think I have something in here that belongs to you."

Henry's adopted father took the bag warily, and then he and Snow peered inside together. Charming's head snapped up. "There's a heart in here."

"It's yours."

"How the hell did you get that?" Emma demanded seconds before Henry could ask the same question. (Except the swearing part. There was no way he could have gotten away with swearing.)

"Belle," Neal answered simply, earning himself four confused glances. "Actually, it was—ah, hell, I suppose I have to start at the beginning for everyone else, huh?"

Emma looked like she might have caught on, but she nodded. "Yeah. Assuming you want to."

"Well, it's not like Cora doesn't already know who I'm related to here," he sighed, and that made Henry perk up.

"I thought you were from outside Storybrooke," he said skeptically. "Everyone who was in the Enchanted Forest came over with the curse, except for Emma and August, who came through the enchanted wardrobe. You couldn't have been from outside Storybrooke if you're related to anyone here." He felt his eyes narrow. "Not unless the Evil Queen let you leave."

"Henry…" Emma gave him a Look, but he wasn't going to back down. Neal, however, smiled.

"You'd be right if I'd been in the Enchanted Forest when the curse came through, but I left before that," he explained, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I think I'm actually in your book, based on what Emma says."

"You are?" he asked eagerly, his suspicions almost vanishing with this new information.

"Yeah. Back home, my name was Baelfire. And, uh"—this was directed at Snow and Charming—"you guys know my father by the name of Rumplestiltskin."

"You're Baelfire?" Henry managed to gape right before his grandmother got in with:

"Rumplestiltskin has a son?"

"He does in the Book!" Henry reassured Snow, and Neal—Baelfire!—laughed.

"Yeah, though we hadn't seen each other in a long time," he explained. "I, uh, wound up in another world where time doesn't really run, which means I haven't been in the Enchanted Forest since way before any of you were born. Long story short, I didn't know if he was alive or dead, but Emma and I met a few years ago. And I met August before Emma did. He got ahold of me a couple of weeks ago and told me that Emma was here, and I figured I should come help. Unfortunately, August kinda sold me out to Cora."

"August what?" Emma snarled, looking ready to go punch the puppet in the face.

"I think Cora's got his dad. His name's Geppetto, right?"

Henry nodded while the adults exchanged glances. "He is. Now that the curse is broken, anyway."

"Well, then Cora's got him squirreled away in the basement of some house outside town," Neal answered.

"How long has August been working for Cora?" Emma demanded, her voice hard.

"Hell if I know. I've only been here three days, and two of them were spent locked in that same basement," he said with another shrug. "But, look, before I say anything else, it's probably a good idea to put that heart back in, yeah?"

"How can you be sure that it's David's?" Snow asked suspiciously.

"Because my father went and stole it before he gave himself up to Cora," Baelfire replied bluntly. "I'm no expert on hearts, but I figure Pop would know." He glanced at Emma. "Belle said you'd put one back in before?"

"Not like that was the most pleasant experience of my life, but yeah," Emma sighed, "I have." She glanced at David. "You mind?"

"Not at all."

Fascinated, Henry watched as Emma took the bag from Snow, pulling the beating red heart out and looking at it with wide eyes. No one spoke as Emma carefully lined the heart up, although David seemed to brace himself. After taking a deep breath, Henry's grandfather nodded, and Emma shoved his heart back in. Somehow, David managed not to gasp.

"Wow," he said after a moment, grinning. "That feels a lot better."

Beaming, Snow squeezed his hand, and for a moment, Henry was transfixed watching them. They had the perfect True Love, the love that had won wars and literally changed the world. They were his grandparents, and although David Nolan had been Henry's adopted father and would always also be his dad, Prince Charming was an awesome grandfather to have, and Henry wanted to get to know the real man now that he wasn't cursed. Or heartless. David looked more alive now than Henry could ever remember him being, even when he'd been with Mary Margaret under the curse. He just seemed better, stronger, and more confident. He was everything he was supposed to be, and it made Henry's heart race.

David spoke up again, looking at Baelfire. "So, I guess the real question is what Rumplestiltskin wants in exchange for stealing my heart back from Cora."

"Honestly, I'm pretty sure he didn't do it as a favor to you," the Dark One's son answered with a crooked smile that really reminded Henry of Mr. Gold. "More like it was Pop's last jab at Cora."

"Last jab…?" Snow asked, her eyes narrowing in confusion.

Baelfire sighed. "Emma told you about the dagger, right?"

"She said Cora has it, but she didn't say what it meant," Henry piped up when his grandparents looked a little hesitant. "The dagger's in the book, and I know it can kill the Dark One. That's what Mr. Gold—Rumplestiltskin—did, right? Is Cora gonna kill him now?"

"I don't think so, bud," Baelfire answered quietly, glancing down at the floor and seeming to study his scuffed up sneakers for a long minute. "Look, I'm not sure exactly what's in that book of yours, but I'm betting the fact that the dagger can control the Dark One didn't make it in there. Papa was always really careful about not letting that one out." He looked up. "But now you've got to know. Cora has the dagger, so she can control him and his magic."

"Wait, what?" Snow demanded, staring at Baelfire like he'd gone insane. "Why would Rumplestiltskin give her that? Has he been working with her all along?"

Henry opened his mouth to agree with his grandmother—because the Dark One was the most powerful sorcerer in the Enchanted Forest, and this was really, really dangerous—but surprisingly, Emma got in first.

"He gave it up because Cora was going to kill Neal," she cut in before either of her parents could say more. "They made a deal."

Taunting Zelena had been a bad idea. Taunting her—even if indulging in his sarcasm and anger had shielded Rumplestiltskin's fragile soul a tiny bit—had wound up with him screaming in pain and violated once more. Of course Cora had been willing to loan Zelena the dagger, which meant Rumplestiltskin had endured round two with the daughter instead of the mother, and found Zelena far more vindictive and impulsive. The only consolation was that Zelena was no exhibitionist, either, which meant she'd knocked Geppetto unconscious for the worst parts of it. The old man had still been out when Zelena had finally left, shoving Rumplestiltskin back into his cage well after midnight, again clad in nothing but shackles, trousers, and a half-buttoned shirt.

I'm glad I wore black, he thought as he woke up the next morning, curled up on his side, arms burning numbly and all too aware of the several places he was bleeding from. He'd known that giving Cora that dagger would be bad for his health, and truth be told, Rumplestiltskin wasn't surprised by any of this. But that didn't mean he was in any way comfortable with that knowledge. Or that it made what had happened any better. Don't think about it, he told himself firmly. Dwelling on it won't help.

But he'd give anything to be able to retreat into Belle's arms right now, to feel safe and not vulnerable, to not feel like he was some toy for Cora to punish and then hand over to others when she felt like it.

"You're him, aren't you?" a gravely voice asked from the other cage, interrupting his morose thoughts. "The Dark One."

Damn. Zelena had called him by name, hadn't she? Not that it mattered particularly much, but he had enough pride to cringe inwardly.

"Yes," Rumplestiltskin replied simply, a small corner of his mind amused that even here, even like this, Geppetto was afraid to use his name.

With an effort, he levered himself into a sitting position, leaning against the bars of the cage and looking tiredly at the old man. He'd barely slept at all, and while he didn't need sleep, living without it here in Storybrooke was unpleasant at best. Not to mention the fact that any sitting position was exceedingly uncomfortable, but Rumplestiltskin tried to conceal that beyond the wince of pain he could not hold back. His breathing was hard, too but there was no controlling that.

"How is it that the Evil Queen is holding you?" Geppetto asked, and Rumplestiltskin let out a soft snort. At least the old woodworker didn't think that he was on Cora's side.

"Let's just say that we made a deal, she and I."

Geppetto looked him up and down, seemingly undecided on how to feel about Rumplestiltskin's obvious physical discomfort. And it's not like he didn't see the beginning of what Zelena did to me, and that wasn't pretty. "Looks like you didn't get the better end of that deal."

"I got what I wanted." Briefly, Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes, the image of his grown son's face dancing through his mind. He forgave me, Rumplestiltskin thought disbelievingly. My boy forgave me. And Baelfire was safe. Everything was worth it to keep him safe, along with Belle and Gabrielle. His family was safe.

Those words made Geppetto give him a strange look, but Rumplestiltskin ignored him. What did he care about what the woodworker thought? He could easily imagine why Cora was imprisoning Geppetto—she needed a hold on August, and sometimes, holding someone's heart was counterproductive. Then you had to control them to get what you wanted, and that took time. It was far easier to hold a hostage, or, if you thought like Rumplestiltskin, make a deal with them. But Cora's methods have always been a bit more…brutal than my own, he thought with little amusement.

"I hope so," the old man finally said quietly, and Rumplestiltskin tried not to bristle.

You don't want his pity, the curse whispered inside his mind, quiet and furious. You're not like him. He's merely human, short-lived and weak. Put him in his place.

But there was still too much humanity in Rumplestiltskin to reject a small flicker of pity when he felt so terrible. "Me, too," he said quietly.

"Why is she so angry with you?" Geppetto asked, clearly emboldened by the Dark One's lack of antipathy.

Old rage surged up, dark and violent, and Rumplestiltskin knew that his expression went cold, his eyes narrowed and dangerous. Geppetto actually drew back a little, shivering, as Rumplestiltskin struggled to put his own personal demons back in their bottle.

"I told her no," he said, his voice hard. And I have never regretted it.

"I have a new target for you, dear," Cora told the frightful creature in front of her. She had never seen the Jabberwocky before, despite reading of the horror of Wonderland many times. However, when Cora had begun preparing to cast the Dark Curse, she had known that the Jabberwocky might someday be instrumental to preserving that curse—or to reassert her power once the curse was broken. Back then, the possibility of anyone breaking her curse was so very slim, but Cora had never been one to leave anything to chance.

And now she held the Vorpal blade in her hand. So far a Cora knew, she was the only one to ever possess both the Vorpal Blade and the dagger of the Dark One, to control elemental darkness and primordial fear, able to bend both to her will. No one else had ever managed that, yet Cora had, and the power was almost enough to make her giddy. Good thing I have left my heart safely outside my chest, she decided. Otherwise, she might have allowed herself to say or do something foolish. As things stood, she could dispassionately decide what needed to be done. Revenge was simple, so long as you were not overly emotional about it.

Jabber sighed, cocking her head lazily, watching Cora through heavy-lidded eyes. "What do you want me to do now?"

"I'll have you start by showing me proper respect as your queen," she snapped before she could stop herself, not liking the insolent look on her new servant's face.

"And how are you going to manage that?" the creature drawled, laughing outright. "The Vorpal Blade can protect you from me, but it can't control me, Your Majesty."

"No, but it can sentence you to a long and agonizing existence pinned to a wall," Cora purred in return, coming back on balance. I must be overwrought by the breaking of the curse and Maleficent's attack, she thought coolly. I must be cautious.

"Which might just seem preferable to doing your bidding, presuming it's going to come accompanied by threats of pain and suffering," Jabber shot back, and Cora forced her temper down.

I can take my anger out elsewhere, she told herself. Perhaps pushing the Jabberwocky like this was foolish; she could change tactics. It would not do for the Jabberwocky to turn on her, after all. Cora was wise enough to know that even if she held the Vorpal Blade, the Jabberwocky could prove exceedingly difficult.

"I regret to hear that you've felt threatened," Cora said smoothly. The words were not an apology, but the Jabberwocky could be pardoned for thinking it was. "That was never my intention, of course."

"Of course not." Another insolent half-smirk crossed the angular face, but Cora ignored that.

"I would, however, appreciate your assistance in terrifying someone quite thoroughly," she replied evenly. "I understand such things feed your inner…darkness."

"They do," Jabber replied cautiously, but Cora could see the hunger in her eyes.

"Then go terrorize Snow White, but do not let her drop into incoherent terror. Not yet, anyway."

Dark eyes narrowed. "Why not?"

"Because first I am going to make her watch her True Love die."

A shiver of anticipation ran down Cora's spine, and she could just feel Snow's misery and heartbreak. That would be utterly delicious, making Eva's grasping little daughter suffer like that. It would be her final victory over a spiteful princess who had ruined her life for no good reason. Then, before she let Jabber finish Snow off, she would make Snow watch the noxious sheriff die. Perhaps she would keep Henry alive; without the Charming family around, the boy was no threat, and he could wake Regina. Regina would fall in line when she had no one else to turn to. Cora felt the warm feeling of joy surging within her; she had made Snow suffer enough. Now she would strike her final blows and kill her.

Smiling, she summoning Charming's heart to her hands, but the box that landed in her palms was oddly light. A sudden feeling of dread stole through Cora, and she opened the wooden box quickly…only to find it empty.

Emma had called Neal Cassidy an 'old friend', and Baelfire had said that they'd met sometime before Emma came to Storybrooke, but something wasn't fitting. If they were such good friends—and they really seemed to be, what with the way they were communicating without saying a word—why hadn't Emma mentioned him before now? And if they'd known one another, and Baelfire clearly knew about the Enchanted Forest, why hadn't he told Emma sooner? That would have made Henry's job a lot easier. Then again, she didn't really believe August, either, Henry thought, slipping around the corner. Emma and Baelfire had snuck off when they thought Henry had been occupied talking to his adopted dad/grandfather (who had his heart back!), but he'd noticed.

And then he'd followed, only to find that they were in his room. And if eavesdropping was rude, well, they shouldn't have been hiding in his room to talk. That was at least as rude as eavesdropping.

"I'm not sure I can do this, Emma," Baelfire was saying. "Not telling him. I thought I could, but after meeting Gabi, and thinking about what's happening to my dad…"

"It's hard, I know," his birth mom replied, even as Henry puzzled out that 'Gabrielle' had to be Renee, given that Baelfire seemed to be thinking about his own family. Does that mean that he didn't know he had a sister? She is really young. "But what you said about Cora still stands, and—"

"I know. I just…well, damn it. He deserves to know."

"We're not talking about forever. Just until Cora goes down," Emma said. Henry eased forward until he could get a pretty good look at both of them, and Emma looked irritated, stressed, and a little uncertain.

Baelfire ran a hand through his hair, his movements spastic. "Yeah, assuming I've got any family left after this mess."

"Look, I know Gold made Cora sign a contract. You need to go read that before you freak out, okay?"

"You have it?" he demanded.

"No. It disappeared once she'd signed it," Emma answered.

"Great. That helps a whole lot," Baelfire snapped, starting to pace. "Papa didn't come home last night, which means Cora wanted a hell of a lot more than just the dagger. Belle wouldn't say much, but I know she's worried, and I've barely even met the woman! That means—well, hell, I don't know what it means, but it can't be good. Not if she's half as crazy as you people seem to think she is."

"She is, but we'll be okay. We know what we need to do, okay? I've been facing off with her for months, and we can fight her, all right?"

Baelfire stopped cold, staring at the Book. Henry had left it lying on his bed, but seeing it seemed to make Baelfire deflate. "Sorry," he whispered. "I'm just worried. And I don't like lying to him."

Lying to who? Henry wondered as Emma stepped forward tentatively to put a hand on her old friend's shoulder. Was he talking about Mr. Gold—Rumplestiltskin? The idea of Rumplestiltskin's son being here in Storybrooke took some getting used to, but he had the feeling that Baelfire wasn't talking about his father. He wanted to tell someone else something, but what? And who?

"Tell me about it," Emma breathed, and there was something hauntingly familiar in her voice that made Henry blink. But then the pair headed for the door, and he had to duck into Regina's room to keep from being seen.

And then seeing his mother's empty bed brought a whole other set of emotions to the surface, and Henry forgot all about his curiosity. For the moment.

"Hiding in your room now that the curse is broken, doll?" a voice said from the window, making August whirl clumsily. He could move more fluidly now that the curse was broken, despite being almost completely wooden…again. Still, being a full-grown puppet was uncomfortable as hell, particularly since his innards seemed to want to be human, which didn't mix well with the wooden exterior at all. But none of that mattered when there was a grinning witch hovering on a freaking broomstick outside his window.

Zelena stepped through the window smoothly, invading his rooms with a smile. Standing awkwardly from where he'd been sitting on the bed, August took an uneasy step back, watching Cora's daughter with wide eyes. She was unpredictable and more than a little crazy, and there was no telling what she was here for.

"What do you want?" he asked cautiously, mindful of the fact that Cora still had his father. His papa had to remember everything now, and what did he think of his son? August had no way to know, but as ashamed as he was of his own actions—and of turning back to wood—he would have given anything to see Geppetto again.

"You, of course," she replied without preamble. "You're going to spy for Mother, find out what the heroes are up to."

"Why would I do that?" August summoned up his courage. "I don't even know if my papa is still alive or not, and it's not like your mother has kept any of her—"

Promises, he meant to say, but power slammed into him and threw August into the far wall. The mirror broke, and everything fell off the dresser with a clatter, but August hit the floor harder than anything else did, and the thought he heard one of his wooden limbs crack a bit. The splintering sound of wood was unmistakable, but he got up, anyway.

Every limb creaked in protest, but Zelena just kept smiling that insane smile of hers.

"Because otherwise your beloved papa will die," she giggled, turning to eye August coyly. "And because Mother always keeps her promises. Drink this."

A small vial flew through the air, full of a light blue liquid like August had never seen before. His heart leapt with hope, but common sense told him that he shouldn't spare Cora—or Zelena—even a tiny positive thought. They don't want to help me, and Cora has no reasons to keep her promises, he reminded himself. Don't be a fool.

"What's this supposed to be?" he asked, shaking the vial cautiously.

"It'll turn you human. Fully and forever," Zelena told him with a shrug. "I told Mother that it wasn't worth it, but she said you'd make a better spy if you were human. Properly motivated and all."

Eyes narrowing, August looked between Zelena and the bottle, torn between hope and despair. He would give anything to be human again; that was why he'd started working with Cora in the first place. He wasn't supposed to be a puppet, and it wasn't his fault that the Blue Fairy had given him an impossible task! A child never should have been sent through to take care of Emma, and August never could have lived up to all those expectations, even in his best moments. Cora had been his only chance, but what if this was a lie?

You're no good to them dead, an inner voice told him, and August knew that was right. Zelena might give him a useless potion just to mess with him, but Cora wasn't so petty. Cora wanted useful servants, which was why she'd taken his father instead of his heart. But would she make this potion to make me more useful? he wondered. Fear stole through him, a shiver rolling through his entire body. If she needs me now, what else does she have in mind?

There was no telling, but August knew that he just couldn't stay a wooden puppet. So he drank the potion.

The first bad sign was the wave of magic that preceded Cora into the room and knocked Marco unconscious. The second was the way she gestured him out of the cage with the dagger, her motions violent and sending pain reverberating through Rumplestiltskin's skull. He staggered a half dozen steps and then found his knees slamming into the floor; the impact almost made him topple, particularly since he couldn't catch himself with his still-bound hands, and it did make him grunt in pain.

Rumplestiltskin had never dealt with pain well—most cowards didn't—but the last day in Cora's hands had left him with an appreciation that his pain tolerance was significantly higher than he'd ever thought possible. Of course, that had to be his curse, and not him; Rumplestiltskin knew that he himself was not particularly strong, but the demon inside him could take a lot of punishment. Even in this world, it would take a stab to the heart from the dagger to kill him. Nothing else could, not even the high levels of electricity Cora had subjected him to the evening before. Blood loss wouldn't do the trick, either, as Zelena had helpfully discovered, although it did leave him feeling weak and slightly disoriented.

"Look at me," Cora ordered, and while she held the dagger in her hand, he had no choice. His head snapped up and his eyes found her on their own, blurry though his vision was. "Focus."

That also made his curse respond, and Rumplestiltskin's equilibrium stopped doing laps and righted itself with a heavy feeling of wrongness. Blackness still skirted around the edges of his vision, but he could see straight, now, unpleasant though the feeling was. But being able to see the woman who had spent much of the last eighteen hours exacting a vicious 'punishment' on him for his refusal to choose her all those years ago. Of course, Cora didn't phrase it that way; she said it was about magic and about power, but Rumplestiltskin was not such an idiot. Had that been the truth, he knew that her first questions would not have concerned what Belle meant to him. His only break had been when she'd had him make a potion to turn Pinocchio human again, and that hadn't exactly taken long.

"Well, are you going to tell me what brings you down to my humble abode, dearie, or do I have to ask?" he drawled as casually as he could, unable to keep the sharp edge of pain out of his voice.

He was still bleeding from Zelena's ministrations, and Cora had left burns all over his body. Rumplestiltskin was strung out and hurting, and the couple of hours of sleep he'd gotten had not been enough rest at all.

The dagger twitched, and searing pain tore through his mind, fireworks exploding in front of his eyes and making Rumplestiltskin scream in pain. Doubling over helplessly, he shivered and shrieked as Cora willed agony to roll through him, turning his own curse against him to rend and tear. Rumplestiltskin felt like his body was coming apart at the seams, like he was going to explode from the inside out. None of it left any physical damage, but the darkness' claws cut in deep, and even when the attack stopped, he was left shaking and panting.

"Do you know what happened to dear Charming's heart?" she snarled.

He couldn't lie, so he dredged up his nastiest smile. "Yes."

This time the dagger sliced down, stabbing straight into his left shoulder, and Rumplestiltskin screeched wildly. A stab wound was bad enough, and Cora had stabbed the dagger in almost up to the hilt. But she'd angled it sideways, clearly not wanting to accidentally get his heart, but she did twist the dagger viciously, and Rumplestiltskin made a broken noise that sounded inhuman even to his own ears. Cora yanked the dagger out almost right away, though, and the pain that slammed into him after that took him by surprise. Screaming again, Rumplestiltskin found that once he started screaming, he could not stop; he felt like poison was bubbling in his veins, like acid was eating away at his soul.

He'd cut himself with the dagger before, of course. It had been centuries earlier and Rumplestiltskin had been experimenting with various types of magic. It had been an accident, but the wound had gone black and infected, remaining that way for weeks and laughing at all of his efforts to heal it. Yet this was far, far worse than that wound had been, and Rumplestiltskin collapsed, convulsing and screaming breathlessly. He lost himself for several moments, utterly absorbed in the poison radiating outwards from the shoulder wound, curling up helplessly on his right side and sobbing in pain. Cora, however, was having none of that.

"Back on your knees," she ordered, her voice cold. It was like he was a puppet on strings; his curse took control of his muscles and suddenly Rumplestiltskin found himself back on his knees, swaying drunkenly and panting brokenly. "What was that?"

"You're the one who did it," he snarled breathlessly.

The dagger twitched again, and pain exploded once more. Compared to the stab wound, it wasn't bad, but that was like comparing how terrible being light on fire was to being caught in a volcanic eruption. A sharp cry tried to get trapped in his chest, and then rattled out in short gasps, half choking him until Cora pulled the attack aside.

"Details," Cora demanded imperiously. Truth, the silent command dug its claws in viciously, pressure ramping up until he felt like his brain was going to fold under. All of it.

"The dagger is the only weapon that can truly do damage to me," Rumplestiltskin whispered, unable to muster up any more resistance. "It's like poison."

"Can this kill you?"

I wish. "No."

"Well. That's good to know," she commented idly, shifting the bloody dagger so that the point rested under his chin and forced his head up. His shoulder burning madly, Rumplestiltskin complied; even moving his head made wound hurt more, and the room would have been spinning had Cora not wanted him to be focused. "Now. Tell me what happened to Charming's heart."

"I took it, of course," Rumplestiltskin replied, letting the fury of his curse feed him, letting it at least give him the appearance of defiance when he knew he had no strength left of his own. "By now, I imagine it's back where it belongs."

He braced himself for more pain, but Cora only arched an eyebrow.

"Why would you do that?" she asked calmly.

"You chose to make an enemy of me, dear," he rasped, his body continuing to shake spastically in pain and blood loss. This shirt was quite ruined, torn and bloody as it was, and a part of Rumplestiltskin was perversely satisfied by that. "Now you get to reap the rewards."

That did it; that taunted Cora straight into punishing him again, but now at least Rumplestiltskin was in control of the tempo, and that helped him preserve a bit of his sanity. It would begin to fracture once more the next time she stripped him and used him like some pleasure toy, but Rumplestiltskin would take every victory he could get. Few they may be. This time, however, Cora did not order him out of the doubled over mess he became when she turned his curse on him. She just grabbed him by the hair and forced him to straighten once more, her grip hard and unforgiving.

"You're going to pay for that, you know," she told him, anger making her eyes sharp.

"I know."

Then Cora smiled, releasing his hair and putting the flat side of the dagger—with his name facing him—right in front of Rumplestiltskin's face. "Lick it clean," she smirked.

He blinked. "What?"

"You heard me." Pressure rose. "Do it."

There was no reason for that, save for the fact that Cora wanted to humiliate him further. She would treat him like he was an object, degrade him as far as she could. She wanted to punish him, wanted to own him, and Rumplestiltskin had no choice but to obey.

A/N: Stay tuned for Chapter Eighty-One—"Someone to Hold Onto," in which Belle and Bae met with the Charming clan to come up with a plan, Rumplestiltskin is sent out to do Cora's bidding, Robin runs into Will, and everyone meets in town hall to debate what should be done about Cora.

I just got back from vacation, but thank you all SO MUCH for the lovely reviews! Sorry that this chapter is a little late - our hotel turned out to be the Land Of No Internet, and things just got crazy. Hopefully I'll get back on track now. Reviews are still cookies and do make my day! Please drop me a line and let me know you're still with me!