DISCLAIMER: I do not dare claim any ownership for the fabulous characters, situations, plots and/or spins on old stories that ABC's geniuses have given us on Once Upon a Time.

This is a what-if story: The way I figure, something DID jog his memory that night in the pawn shop…but it wasn't the windmill…

In the shadow of the toll bridge

The Truth About Parenting

By the time 'Ashley' had finished explaining about 'Rose's' disturbing news, Thomas was halfway through packing up Alexandra's things to drop her off with Granny. As Ella had assured the ladies at the market, Thomas didn't mind covering for Belle one bit, and he prayed silently that Maurice would make it through this latest bout. The prince had only been awake for a couple weeks and already he had seen his poor friend put through a wringer of emotional upheaval because of her father's health.

When he'd arrived at Garcon's, 'Jack' had stormed right out, no doubt headed for the hospital to hassle Belle about missing another shift. A few nights ago, Thomas would have been worried. But according to Ella…Snow was there. Whatever rage the brute intended to unleash, he knew the princess would have no trouble diffusing it.

"So whadyou think of the new guy?" Thomas asked the rather sluggish looking gentleman seated at the end of his bar. It was 'Leroy', better known as Grumpy, who had grunted loudly when 'Marco' first introduced them all to his new hire that day.

Grumpy shrugged. " 'S all right."

Thomas enjoyed a private chuckle, recalling the slightly stunned look on James's face when Geppetto had brought him back to the auto shop for a brief tour. Grumpy was starting on an oil change for a car that Michael had just towed in. By the time Geppetto finally extricated the former dwarf from beneath the engine, Grumpy was so covered in smudges and stains that he looked…well just like Grumpy had always looked coming out of the mines. "Glad to know ya," he'd muttered as he retrieved a rag from his back pocket, spit in the center , wiped his hands "clean" and held it out to James. Thomas could barely contain his laughter as his friend grimaced and shook it.

Now, Leroy was right where he usually was around 8 o'clock in the evening. Drinking. Sometimes he went to Granny's; sometimes he stayed home. But Jack had just gotten in a new case of Sam Adams Oktoberfest, the last in the state apparently. So Grumpy was content to be in Storybrooke's West End tonight. Downing another swig of beer, he shifted in his stool and cleared his throat. "Doesn't know a thing about cars though."

Thomas finished drying a glass before replacing it on the shelf. "Neither did I at first."

Leroy shrugged. "Whatever." He let out a belch and lightly punched his chest with his fist.

"Y'all right?"

The dwarf grinned. "That's some good stuff."

Thomas laughed and shook his head; he was about to respond when the door swung open…and in walked Mayor Mills.

As 'Sean' he supposed he'd seen the mayor dozens of times in the past 28 years. A resident on his old street and member of the high class, Storybrooke elite, Regina knew his father quite well and Thomas could vaguely recall a number of hazy conversations during some high society Christmas parties. But tonight was the first time he'd seen her since he'd awoken from the curse and (as of his conversation with James) since finding out that Regina…was the evil queen.

Her presence at Garcon's was strange in and of itself for Thomas couldn't remember the last time Regina deigned to be seen in West End. As she strode inside, her dark black trench coat hanging open and sailing behind her, she seemed not to care who saw her or the dozens of stares her arrival garnered.

A man seated at the booth scooted out of it immediately as she approached. Thomas watched her cautiously as she sat down.

"Wh't the hell is she doin' here?" grumbled Leroy.

Regina surveyed the room, clearly looking for a specific individual. Her eyes stopped on Thomas who tried to maintain an appearance of nonchalance as he nodded and looked back at Grumpy. "Dunno," he replied. He watched from the corner of his eye as she checked her watch a few times, unbuckled the belt of her jacket and stared impatiently at the door. With a huff, she slid back out of the booth and went up to the bar.

Thomas cleared his throat and walked over to her end. "Evening Mayor," he said in a voice he hoped was casual.

"Sean," she nodded.

"What can I get you?'

She wasn't looking at him. She was still searching the room. Rolling her eyes, she swung her gaze back to the young bartender. "Vodka tonic," she said.

He nodded and started to prepare her drink when an exceptionally inebriated customer slunk out of the back hallway. With an intrusively loud voice, he stumbled up beside Regina, seemed to take no notice of the fact that the mayor was standing right next to him, and gripped the railing, using it to hoist himself up half over the bar. "Welp!" he hiccupped as he lowered himself back down again. "Ahm off Ssshawn!"

Thomas stared at the drunk's sad state and sighed. "G'night Alan. Be careful walkin' home."

The patron gave a sort of sloppy salute. "Ssame ta yew, frennd. And k-kun gratchulations on yer upcomin' nup – n-nuptchewals!" With another hiccup and a wave, Alan staggered out of the bar.

Thomas gulped, looking up at Regina who was now eyeing him with great interest.

"Did he say…nuptials?" she asked with an unreadable expression.

Thomas glanced around at the customers still seated at the bar. He couldn't very well deny it with so many of his regular patrons having heard him announce it earlier. And the queen was going to have to find out in order to apply for the license anyway. But dammit! Did it have to come out to her the very next day? The earlier she knew, the more likely she was to figure out some way to interfere. "Yeah," he said finally, though he kept his eyes on his work.

"You and Miss Boyd?"

Thomas focused on preparing her drink. "Uh huh," he said, trying to downplay the news as much as possible. "I mean you know," he added a lemon wedge to the rim of the glass and handed it to her. "Someday."

Regina eyed him with the same inscrutable expression as she received her drink. She kept her grey eyes on his as she took a long sip, then finally, she smiled. "Congratulations."

"Thanks," he said, and he watched as she returned to the booth to wait for her guest.

…

Well this day had just gone from bad to worse. Sean Herman and Ashley Boyd were getting married. In truth, this news was minor compared to the report last week that David Nolan was going to leave his wife, but it was still a threat to the curse. What in the world was happening to her masterfully crafted world? Why were so many things changing? Years of maintaining a cool, stoic appearance kept her from seeming as rattled as she felt, but it was overwhelming the number of new threats that had sprung up in just a few days.

Deciding to save this newest annoyance for tomorrow, she merely smiled at Sean, mumbled a terse "Congratulations" and returned to her seat. A few minutes later, the door to Garcon's opened at last and in walked John, looking just as lanky and slippery as he had this morning in her office. "Twice in one day Madame Mayor?" he muttered as he sank into the seat across from her. "How lucky for me."

Regina glared at him. "Quiet you imbecile," she whispered, leaning forward. "Did you get it?"

He nodded and reached inside his breast pocket. Withdrawing the object slightly, so that only Regina could see, John revealed a small syringe. "Caught 'im coming out of the hospital," he said slipping it back into his pocket. "He was…very compliant, your majesty. As you suspected, he didn't ask any questions when I requested the injection."

"Good," she replied. "You understand what you have to do?"

John leaned back and folded his hands behind his head. "What is that phrase they use here? 'This ain't my first… rodeo?'"

She rolled her eyes. "Could you for once leave your childish idioms at home?" she hissed.

John shrugged. "You're the one who left me in charge of the lost boys."

"Enough," she said and withdrew a heavy metal ring from her pocket. Filling almost the entire circumference were hundreds of old skeleton keys, each handle uniquely designed. Methodically, she selected one, twisted it off the ring and held it to him. "Don't…screw up," she said. John reached flippantly for the key and grabbed hold of it, but she maintained her grip, pulling him close. "If you leave even a crumb behind for Emma to find…then you will have failed me."

She felt him shiver against her hand, but he maintained his boyish grin as she released the key and he slipped it in his pocket. "Well," he said, patting it safely against his lapel. "We wouldn't want that now would we?"

Regina drew back, bringing her drink to her lips.

"And," he cleared his throat after a moment's silence, "what about my…other new arrivals?"

She glanced up at him as she slowly sipped her tonic, set it back down on the table and licked her lips. "They set out tomorrow morning."

…

Mother and son had driven together on missions through Storybrooke before, but never following so enlightening an evening as they'd shared in Miss Blanchard's house. They were silent for a long while on the way to Mr. Gold's, with Henry glancing up every so often at Emma as he tried to discern whether his mom might be ready for more…shocking revelations.

Emma in turn, kept glancing at Henry, flashing him nervous smiles when they happened to glance at the same time. Her mind was spinning, trying to make sense of a world that she felt was slowly unraveling at its seams. At first, she'd just been taking Mary Margaret's advice: Ask Henry about the Zimmers; make him feel important and included; maybe get a clue out of it in the process (after all it was true that Henry's book had a tendency of guiding them through coincidences shared between his fictional world and the real one). But this was different. The compass – their father's compass – was actually IN the book! Drawn into the hands of a girl the very image of whom was waiting at Mary Margaret's right now. Rationality screamed for her to be sensible: An evil curse – A town frozen in time – Insane. End of story. And yet, there was the compass, lying now across Henry's lap. And if that was true…what else would she have to accept was true? Against her will, an image of David popped into her head – and she shoved it away.

"Thanks for letting me come," Henry's voice cut through the silence, and she looked down at his grinning face.

She smiled back. "It's your tip, Kid. I'm the one along for the ride."

His grin grew wider still. "Do you really think Mr. Gold'll know something about the compass?"

She sighed. "Honestly? I'm not sure. But it's the only thing I can think of right now. I mean look at that thing." She noticed Henry turning it over in his hands. "It's really old. I'm betting Gold can at least tell me where someone would buy something like that."

"And then maybe we can find out where Ava and Nick's father got it?"

She nodded, unwilling to confirm it out loud since she knew the chance of turning this random compass into a legitimate lead at this point in the evening was remote. Even if Gold could tell her where it might have been purchased, there was no way she'd be able to request the sale's receipt from the vendor until morning. And by then…it'd be too late.

"Emma?" Henry asked and she noticed his voice was a little softer than before.

"Hmm?"

"Do you know where…my father is?"

The question stopped Emma's heart cold, and she swallowed hard against this certainly anticipated but not at all endurable question. "Umm…Henry—"

"I mean, " he cut in quickly, the boy's keen radar sensing the immediate tension he'd prompted. He had thought briefly to himself: now's not the time, Henry, but as was usually the case, his curiosity got the better of him.

"No, it's ok…you've got a right to ask," Emma replied, finally finding her voice, though it felt a bit like she'd had the wind knocked out of her. "Umm…your father…" she began, trying to think of something quick. Something heroic: Your father was a…policeman – no…a FIREMAN! Yes! And when we met he was in training and just after I got pregnant, he— but when she glanced down again, staring into her son's hopeful, expectant eyes, she snapped her mouth shut, unable to go through with the deception. I would never lie to you, Emma…she heard David's voice echo in her head for about the hundredth time that day. Try as she might, she couldn't get away from it. From him. For there he was again, staring up at her, inexplicably, through the eyes of her son. "Your father was…not…a good person." She said it quietly, almost mournfully, for she so wished it wasn't the truth. Henry was looking down in his lap again, and she could tell he'd been hoping the same. "I don't…want … to lie to you Henry," she said and saw him lift his head again. "And someday, I promise, I will tell you everything…when you're ready."

Henry regarded her carefully, his eyes studying her as his sharp young mind processed the rather complex exchange he knew they were having here. At last, his schoolboy grin returned to his face and he gave her a rather decided nod. "Ok," he said. "Thanks."

Emma lifted an eyebrow. "For what, Kid?"

"For tellin' me the truth."

For reasons she couldn't fathom, tears stung her eyes and she smiled down at her son. "You're welcome."

…

The wooden blinds covering the windows of Gold's shop showed no hint of light coming from within as Emma pulled the car up to the curb. At first glance, it seemed closed. But the sign on the door read "Open" and Emma found strangely that she was not at all surprised to see Gold still there at almost a quarter to 10:00.

She put the car in park but left the motor running and twisted in her seat to face her son. "I need you to stay here," she said.

"What? Why?" he protested.

"Because I don't really…trust Mr. Gold. And I don't think we can risk him seeing us together this late at night. At some point, he might tell your mom."

Henry was clearly disappointed, but she could see the gears of his little brain turning furiously, and soon that frown transformed into a sudden epiphany. "Especially since he's Rumpelstiltskin!" he said as if a light bulb switched on in his head.

Emma started, darting her head down in surprise. "He's who?"

Henry's mouth hung open like a codfish, realizing his blunder. "Oh yeah I uh…I figured out that Mr. Gold is Rumpelstiltskin."

"As in the guy who spins straw into gold."

"Yup!"

"How'd you figure that one out?"

Pops told me! he wanted to say. But despite the faith his mom was showing tonight, despite the breakthroughs she'd made almost without realizing, he knew she wasn't quite ready to hear about…'Pops' yet. "It's in the book," he said simply. "I found a picture."

She drew back from him, eyeing him like a sleuth. "Uh huh," she said, but decided not to push it. Ava and Nick were running out of time. "Ok, well wait here while I talk with…Rumpelstiltskin."

He winked at her and ducked rather covertly into the back seat.

Unable to keep from laughing at his unfailing tenacity, she tucked the compass in her pocket, kicked upon her car door, shut him inside and entered the shop. As it looked from the street, the store was almost completely dark, save for a small tiffany lamp lit behind the front counter. Her eyes drawn to the light, she stepped toward it and then stopped when she saw Mr. Gold…just sitting there behind the counter. With the shadows cast by the beams and the shelves surrounding him, he seemed to have just appeared from nowhere, but there he was sitting…as if waiting for her.

"Miss Swan," he crooned. "How lovely to see you. To what do I owe this rather late visit?"

Emma withdrew the compass from her pocket and carried it to him. "I'm looking for some information on this old compass," she said, handing it to him. "Any idea where it could've come from?"

"Well, well," Gold said, plucking it delicately from her hands as he held the device out in front of him. "Look at the detail. You know, this is crystal. This jeweled setting?" he pointed to the needle at its center, broken of course, but no less impressive given its age. "Despite the rather unfortunate shape it's in, this is actually a very unusual piece. The person who owned this obviously had great taste." He laid it out in front of him, stretching the chain across the few stray invoices he'd been filing.

Emma looked down at the compass, having not really examined it that closely herself. But Gold's immediate knowledge of the item was promising. "And where would someone like that buy it?" she asked.

"Right here of course."

Emma's head shot up. "You know it?"

"Indeed. A piece like this is difficult to forget."

Emma held her breath. Dare she hope? "Do you happen to remember who bought it?"

But Gold chuckled, shaking his head and retrieving his cane from its place leaning against the wall. "Well, I'm good with names Miss Swan, but maybe not that good." Emma's heart began to sink, but then he continued. "However, as luck would have it…I do keep rather extensive records."

She looked up again and watched closely, her heart pounding as she considered the odds of not only Gold recognizing the piece but having been the one who sold it as well. Incredible, she thought…You have to admit that Henry's theories have led to some pretty…interesting results. Gold startled rifling through a stack of index cards, muttering to himself…he has a way of…guiding you to the truth. Emma glanced back toward the entrance to the store and though she couldn't actually see the car and its small occupant, she felt a swell of…what was it…gratitude? No, she realized. Pride. Pride in her son.

"And…yes. Here we are." Gold announced, finding it at last. He'd pulled an index card from his file and made to show it to her. She reached for it, but he paused and held it back, a sly smile alighting his eyes.

Damn, she thought. She knew it couldn't be that simple with Mr. Gold. Flashing him a sardonic grin, she leaned into the counter and asked, "What's your price?"

…

Henry sat staring at the window of Emma's car, blowing puffs of hot air on the chilled glass and then smudging out the steam as he waited for her to return. From where the car was parked, he couldn't see much of what was going on inside, but the wait was no less exciting than the entire evening had been. He wondered where they would go next. If the compass really would lead them to Eva and Nick's father. If in reuniting them together, Emma would continue to weaken the curse and—

So enraptured by the prospect of another Cobra victory, Henry hadn't realized that a car had pulled up behind him or that the driver had gotten out and approached the door. So when a sudden shadow blocked the light from the streetlamp and a knuckle rapped sharply on the window in front of his nose, Henry jumped out of his seat and yelped, glancing up at the stranger. Relief instantly followed when he saw who it was. "Pops!" he cried, rolling down the window at once. "What are you doing here?"

James leaned down, bracing his hands atop the lowered pane. "Snow called me. Said you were headed for Mr. Gold's."

"Yeah!" he replied. "We're on a mission. Emma's inside talkin' with 'im."

"She told you to wait here?"

"Yeah. I thought that was good cuz, you know—" he leaned closer to 'Pops'— "he's Rumpelstiltskin!"

"My thoughts exactly," James said with a small grin, trying to keep his tone light. He was relieved to find Henry safe in the car, but he was petrified at what might have already occurred inside. "Why is she here?" he asked hurriedly, peering through the store's window. Snow hadn't been able to fill him in fully (Kathryn had walked in the den toward the end of the phone call and he'd rushed off the line). She'd said only that Emma had taken Henry with her to the pawn shop. James got the feeling from the call that his wife had wrestled with whether or not to interfere, knowing how independent and tough her daughter had become without them. But the fact that she'd taken Henry had obviously tipped the scales in favor of motherly panic…and James was glad for it. For he knew that Emma already owed Gold one favor…

"We're trying to help these kids," Henry was explaining, recounting the case like a detective. "In your world, they were Hansel and Gretel!" Henry paused, waiting for some sort of recognition, but the names meant nothing to James. He'd never met any Hansel or Gretel. Henry shrugged (they couldn't know everyone he supposed). "Anyway, we're trying to find their father. And we found an old compass they say belonged to him. Emma's in there trying to find out where he might've bought it so we can find out his name."

James whipped his head around and glared at his grandson. "She's trying to get a name?" he asked, the illusion of calm destroyed. He regretted the way Henry jumped back from him but this information was pivotal.

"Yyyyeah?" he said slowly. The fear in his grandfather's eyes was unsettling. It was a side of James the boy had not seen yet, and for a moment he couldn't fathom what startled him so. This was Cobra stuff! This was adventure! This was cool!—Then it dawned on him, and he thought back to the very first story he'd read in his book. The one where Rumpelstiltskin informed Snow and Charming of the curse…and asked for Emma's name in return.

"Stay here," James ordered, and he stalked inside.

…

"What's your price?" he heard Emma say as he flung open the door. Without giving the imp any time to respond, he marched forward.

"Good evening, Mr. Gold," he said.

Emma whipped around. "David?" she cried. "What the—what are you—"

"Mr. Nolan," Gold replied, appearing not at all phased by the interruption. "A pleasure to see you again. How did your…cousin like the mobile?"

James froze on his way up the aisle. Dammit, he thought. Why didn't he ever listen to Jiminy's dictums about fibs?

Emma crossed her arms and spun toward him. "Your cousin?" she glared.

James glanced in her direction but then moved right past her. "Fine, thank you," he said to Gold. "As soon as I got it repaired."

"Splendid," answered the shopkeeper, folding one hand over the other.

"I need a word," James said, narrowing his gaze at the imp.

"Um, ex-cuse me," said Emma. "We're—"

"Certainly. I was just finishing up a spot of business with Miss Swan and—"

"No you're not," James cut in, stone-faced.

"What?" Emma pushed her way back up to the counter. "What the hell are you doing?"

James maintained his glare on the broker. "I'm afraid this can't wait."

"The hell it can't!" she seethed. She gripped his arm like a vise and forced him to look at her. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?"

"Yes," he grimaced, withdrawing her grip from his arm and dragging her back down the aisle by her wrist away from Gold. He lowered his voice to a fierce whisper. "Do you?"

"Look, I don't know what your deal is, but I'm getting a little tired of the cryptic, ok?" she hissed. "This man could help prevent two kids from being split up in foster care. And I'm not about to let you stop him from helping me—" she started to tug herself back to the counter but James's grip on her remained.

"Emma, I know how important this is to you, but trust me when I tell you that nothing you get in return is worth owing a favor to this man. Let alone two."

Emma gasped. "Two?" Okay, how and why did he know she already owed Gold a favor? "Just what are you—"

"Please," he squeezed her wrist, careful not to hurt her but determined that she heed him. "Wait outside with Henry."

"Not a chance in hell! I need—"

"Emma!" he leveled with her and in the intensity of his gaze, she froze. "I'll get you the name you need," he whispered. "I promise."

She stared at him, paralyzed by his crystalline glare. What the hell was wrong with her? Why hadn't she slugged him in the stomach by now? This man had her bewitched, bothered and bewildered all day and yet she couldn't form the words to object. She glanced back up the aisle at Gold – who sat apparently unmoved by the conflict unfolding – and in the end it was Gold's cold stare that shook her out of David's trance. "Fine," she said, shrugging him off of her. "But if you fail—"

"I won't."

The certainty in his tone should have had no effect on her. There was no reason to trust this man.

I promise you, I…I could never hurt Henry…or you…

She shook her head…no reason…

I would never lie to you, Emma…

Annoyed, she slammed her eyes shut, resisting the echoes, but when she opened her eyes, his were still there. Finally, yielding to instincts she couldn't explain, she turned from him and left the shop.

James watched her go and briefly sighed in relief. Then, steeling himself for the strife yet to come, he spun on his heel and moved toward the counter.

And there sat Gold, his hands smacking lightly together in mock applause. As James approached, Gold let out a humorless chuckle and gave him a wink. "Well well," he said, "Prince Charming to the rescue."

James came to a dead stop at the taunt. Was it coincidence? Unlikely. But he couldn't be sure. He had suspected the day he'd purchased the mobile that the pawn broker knew more than he let on, but there was no way to test it without revealing his own knowledge of the curse. "Just…don't want to see a good woman cheated, Gold."

"Cheated?" Gold drew his hand indignantly over his chest. "I drive an honest bargain, Mr. Nolan. As you are well aware."

"For merchandise, maybe," he said, gesturing to the surrounding shelves. "But I've…heard stories about you. You're not as forthcoming with information as you are with…trinkets."

Gold grinned as he retrieved his cane. Leaning on it for support, he came around the corner and stepped right up to James. "And is that all that mobile was to you?" he sneered, "A trinket?"

James swallowed hard. He was being tested. "You tell me," he replied.

Gold squinted up at him and James got the feeling he was being studied. "I will tell you, Mr. Nolan. I will tell you what I know." James's eyes followed him as Gold hobbled past and smoothed his hand over the glass cases that held his most precious items. "I know, for instance, the name of that man Miss Swan needs to know so desperately." He glanced back, but James's expression did not waver. "I know also that… 'David Nolan' has no cousin in Boston about to have a baby." He continued on his little stroll, pausing as he came across a gold-plated seashell hanging like a pendant from a chain. "But most importantly," he stopped and turned, "I know that the baby girl for whom that mobile was intended…is standing right outside my shop."

The mere mentioning of Emma's true identity left James completely unhinged, and rather than try to maintain some forced appearance of ignorance, his arm shot forward almost on its own, and he fisted Gold's shirt in his hand, pulling the man nearly off his feet. "How do you know about her?"

Gold sniggered, a hint of that creepy Rumpelstiltskin laugh trickling through. "Temper temper," he tsked. Wouldn't want to ruin that noble reputation of yours."

"How. Did you know. About her." James repeated. "I won't ask you a third time."

"But you already know the answer to that…your Highness," Stiltskin hissed. "After all, your wife traded her name to me in exchange for knowing the queen's plan. Or had you forgotten?"

James's grip on him went limp and Gold used it as an opportunity to shift out of his grasp with precise, almost dainty movements. "The mines," James said distantly.

"Indeed," he replied. "Well your highness, the truth is out. You know my secret…and I know yours." He placed the cane between them and leaned forward. "Now what are we to do about that?"

"Emma's name," James said, his mind still drifting back from that horrid night. I want her name! I need her name…give me her name! He shuddered, remembering the night he and Snow had ventured to the mines to discern how the queen would enact her revenge. He'd warned Snow against making deals, but the risk to her daughter's safety was too great for Snow to resist him. "That's how you freed yourself, isn't it?" Gold didn't reply but his head tilted in a slight bow. "You woke up as soon as she introduced herself as 'Emma'…didn't you."

Gold let out a satisfied sigh. "Rule number one of dark curses," he limped over to the door. "Always leave an exit clause."

James scoffed, "Well you'd know all about clauses wouldn't you Stiltskin."

"Gold," the imp insisted as he flipped over his 'open' sign to 'close,' pausing to wink at the woman fuming by her car, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. He turned back to his guest. "I much prefer my name here. It's a bit more dignified."

James adjusted his approach. "Dignified? That's funny coming from a man who steals children for a living," he retorted, hoping to strike a nerve. And he did.

"Watch your tongue, boy," Gold spat, whirling around and pointing his cane at the prince. "Or your liable to wake up tomorrow morning and find yourself cursed again." He moved closer as he sneered. "And this one won't be quite so…escapable."

But James was turning the tables now, unaffected by the threat. With a flippancy almost more becoming of Grumpy, he placed his hands behind his back and bent with exaggerated condescension so he was level with Gold. "I think not."

Gold's eyes narrowed to thin slits. "Is that so?"

"I've been studying this curse, 'Skin," he emphasized the shortened name, knowing how its continued truncation would unnerve the imp he'd gotten to know so well in those mines. "Your magic…doesn't work here, does it?"

The shopkeeper twitched, but made no reply.

James glanced around the shop. "Oh you still know your way around a contract, and I'm betting you've found a way to work the legalities of this world in your favor…but you're not as powerful here, are you?"

Rumpelstiltskin gripped the top of his cane a little tighter but maintained his cool. "And what makes you say that?"

"Well for one thing," James took a step toward him, "if you were, Prince Thomas wouldn't be out of limbo, walking around Storybrooke as Sean Herman would he?"

The panic James had affected in the mage was short lived, for he smiled thinly. "A charming theory. Are you willing to gamble that it's all true?"

A strategic move, James thought as he mentally planned his next in this delicate chess match. "I am," he said in a low voice. "Now who have you told?"

Gold cocked his head. "Told what?"

James closed the space between them in one stride. "Enough games, Stiltskin. You knew I was awake when I came in here last didn't you?"

"Perhaps," Gold replied carefully. "But that doesn't mean I've informed anyone."

"Oh really," James folded his arms over his chest, incredulous.

Firmly, Gold tapped his cane against the floor. "Now what would I gain by revealing your secret?" he asked. "If I did that, I would have to reveal my own."

James snorted. "That only means you're waiting to do so when it's of greatest profit to you."

"And why not? When you're in the business of information, timing is half its worth. Old news is…well, old news." James cocked an eyebrow but didn't reply. "For instance," the imp continued, returning to his counter, "time seems to be, oh shall we say, running out for your daughter out there? Seems she needs this little bit of information quite badly." He held up the index card he'd pulled for Emma, his crooked teeth twisting into that hideous smile. "Too bad you interrupted our bargain. I wouldn't have asked for...much." Slowly, he moved to return the card to its file when James shot his hand out and stopped his wrist.

"Here's what's going to happen," he muttered through gritted teeth. "You're going to give me the name that Emma needs to solve her case." Stiltskin rolled his eyes, but allowed James to continue. "You're never gonna make another deal with…or about Emma again. And…you're not gonna to breathe a word to anyone about what we've spoken of today."

With a sardonic laugh, Gold once again slithered out of James's grasp and gave his hands a shake. "And why would I agree to such terms?"

"Because of what I'm offering you in return."

"You?" Again he chuckled. "How amusing. You are little more than an unemployed recovering amnesiac. What could you possibly have to offer me?"

James placed both palms on the glass counter, swallowing hard. For the risk he was about to take turned the words to ashes in his mouth. "Amnesty," he said.

"Amnesty," Gold laughed. "From what? I'm not a criminal here."

"In Storybrooke maybe. But you and I both know we won't be here forever. One way or another, we will be returned to our world. You wouldn't have left yourself an escape clause if you believed otherwise." James paused, allowing his words to sink in, seeing that the bait was working. "The question is, what kind of life do you want to go back to?"

The imp took a step back, still holding the card in front of him. "I'm listening."

"You give me everything I want and you have my word that you'll neither be hunted nor incarcerated for any past crimes against our realm."

"Your realm? And what of the others?"

"It's a start, Gold. You know I can't speak for Phillip or Eric. Plus our kingdom will grant you temporary asylum and speak on your behalf for services rendered in favor of restoring Storybrooke's citizens to their true identities."

Gold pondered for a moment, and James nervously glanced outside, praying that Emma wouldn't lose her patience and barge back in before the deal was concluded (though he really wouldn't be in a position to blame her). After what seemed an eternity, the imp drew a blank piece of parchment from the small drawer under his register and placed it on the counter. "Your terms are…agreeable." With a sharp flick of his wrist, he hovered his hand over the parchment and James jerked back as he watched several paragraphs of black calligraphy ink across the page in a decorative scrawl. The ink seemed to seep in from beneath the paper…though Rumpelstiltskin held no pen, and his hand remained a good six inches or so above.

As the terms of the contract were writ delicately down the page, Gold cocked his head up and flashed James a devious smile. "What was that you were saying earlier about my magical abilities?"

James gulped, knowing his surprise was evident and therefore no use in hiding.

Gold twiddled his fingers together and sighed. "Relax, your Highness. You were only half wrong. Unfortunately The Dark One's power has been reduced to these simple parlor tricks." He gave the paper a final wave of his hand and looked up as the finishing touches flourished into view. "Not that it doesn't come in handy, mind you," he placed his fingertips on the page and twisted it toward the prince. "I find I'm a horrible typist."

James stared at it warily. The fact that Rumpelstiltskin apparently did retain a fraction of his mystical powers changed the stakes. Could they afford the risk that he might find a magical loophole? James thought a moment then shook his head. If there was one thing he had learned about Stiltskin it was the ironic legitimacy of his business transactions. A contract was a contract – legal, binding and completely unbreakable…for both. Signing his true name to this deal would seal both their fates. Scanning down the page, he nodded and held out his hand for a pen.

Gold withdrew a quill from the same drawer and held it out. James reached forward to take it…and then Gold drew back. "Just…one thing more."

James's heart sank. There it was. The last minute proviso. "It's a fair deal, old man. The terms are already drawn."

"And can just as easily be altered before signing. Amnesty is a most generous offer, but I've no guarantees that when this curse finally does break…you'll still be around to honor it." He grinned a devilish smile that sent chills up James's spine. "And even if you do survive, your kingdom's mercy pales in comparison to the favor already owed to me…by your charming daughter."

James pounded his fist on the glass, wishing it would shatter. "I told you. No more deals—"

"No more deals with or about Emma I know – that is written plainly as you see here," he waved the prince off dismissively. "But I want some insurance for the one I already made."

"What do you mean?" he growled.

Gold leaned forward and hovered his hand once more over the contract, weaving a new clause at the bottom. "As a condition of this deal, I want your word that when the time comes for me to collect on my favor …You. Will. Not. Interfere."

James gaped in pain as the weight of this last request felt like a sword had been plunged into his gut. He was playing with fire, that much he knew already. But dare he risk such a condition? There was so much that could backfire. No limit to what Stiltskin might ask Emma to do. And if his own little escape clause failed, he'd be bound and powerless to stop it. Still, as he glanced back at the window, knowing how much she was counting on him to help those kids, he knew he must keep his promise. He must get her that name. Or all trust would be lost between them forever.

The quill came further into view and he looked up, seeing that Stiltskin was holding it patiently, right in front of his nose. The ticking of various clocks in Gold's shop was suddenly deafening as he heard the tower start to peel 10 o'clock from the distant square. He swallowed hard and stared into the imp's eyes as Rumpelstiltskin leaned forward and whispered… "Well?"

…

*** WOW! I'm so thrilled at all the positive reactions to my take on B&B. Don't worry, plenty more to come for them in the upcoming chapters. But we need to get Emma through her…um…shall we say mid-life crisis first? Quite a lot in store for her, and very soon. Working steadily on the next chapters as we speak.

Thanks as usual to all the great responses and views (I've never hit 300 before! You helped me break a personal record!)

Stay tuned for more of James, Emma, Henry, Snow, Sean, Ella, Belle, Adam…and a few new surprises. Happy Writing/Reading/Living!***