It Starts With a Family

by RedTailedHawkens

That night in the forest, Rumplestilskin was brave. He went with his son to the land without magic and they landed in the 1990s. With no dark one in the Enchanted Forest, the course of events were drastically different. However, the curse was still cast, and Emma still has to break it when she turns 28. SwanThief, Rumpelle, Snowing, etc.

12. Chapter 11:Things We Do For Our Children

Author's Note: Dorothy's world may not have magic, but that does not make it our world or mean all the rules and histories of our world apply. Also, certain minor characters from Storybrooke who have 2 iterations may be the S7 version, as opposed to the S1 version. For those who know, you know, and feel free to ask me questions if you like. The book Neal read's to Sierra is The Tiger's Wife by Téa Obreht.

---

Chapter Eleven: The Things We Do for Our Children

The tornado seemed have done a real number of the Gale family farm, Dorothy thought, as she made her way through the debris. Still, debris or not, it was home. She was home. After an adventure in the strangest land imaginable, she had finally found her way back to Kansas.

She knocked on the door, and was greeted by her Auntie Em, who gave her the world's biggest smile. "Oh, Dorothy. We were so worried. We thought the storm had got you."

"I'm fine, Auntie Em," Dorothy said. "Are my parents here?"

Auntie Em was Dorothy's mother's older sister. She'd lived with them for as long as Dorothy could remember. People would occasionally say that Auntie Em was a bit, well, funny, but she made the best baked goods and gave the best hugs, so as far as Dorothy was concerned, she was the best aunt a girl could have.

"I think your parents are still trying to piece together what's left of the farm. Come, sit down. You must be exhausted. I'll get you some tea and a slice of pie." Dorothy did as she was told, taking a seat at the table. Soon, a steaming mug was placed before Dorothy, as well as a slice of Auntie's Em's famous boysenberry pie. "Now, tell me. What became of you during the storm, child?"

"It's quite a tale," Dorothy began. "Auntie Em, do you believe in magic?"

"Why sure," Auntie Em said, "We've seen shows at the local circus. They're quite fun, I must say."

"I mean real magic," Dorothy said, "I mean witches and things. Because, see, I met a witch. Actually, I met four witches. I even … well, I didn't mean to, but the prophecy said – "

"Slow down, girl, you've barely touched your pie."

"I killed someone, Auntie Em!" Dorothy said, standing and upsetting her plate. She put her hands over her mouth, as though she had cussed.

Auntie Em shook her head. "Now, Dorothy, I don't know if – "

"What exactly is going on?" a voice demanded.

Dorothy turned to see her parents, and she ran to her mother, trying to hold back her sobs. It hadn't all hit her before. It was all too unreal, and surely just a dream. But she hadn't awoken in her bed, and much as the witches and the wizard of Oz had praised her for it, melting the wicked witch couldn't be okay. It just couldn't. It made an awful feeling in her stomach when she thought of the green witch melting before her eyes.

"Dorothy was just telling me where she's been," Auntie Em said, not meeting her sister's eyes. "Apparently, she hit her head and had a bit of a dream."

"It wasn't a dream!" Dorothy said, stamping her foot childishly. "It wasn't even a nightmare, really. I was … it was an adventure, surely, but also, I … I was far from home, I was lost, and there was magic and witches and I killed her. I killed a witch. And they all said she was evil, and maybe she was, but what am I if I just go around melting people?"

"You're not making any sense, girl," her father said.

"She's making perfect sense to me," Auntie Em said.

"Oh, Em, you do coddle the girl. But we both know she's never quite been right, ever since she arrived on our doorstep all those years ago."

"Doorstep?" Dorothy asked. "I don't understand."

"Don't you?" Dorothy's mother said before turning to Auntie Em. "The way you indulge her fancies, like the sorts you used to have, and now she's speaking of witches and murder. None of it makes sense."

"It's dangerous talk, is what it is," her father put in. "Who knows where it could lead?"

Dorothy watched her parents go back and forth, talking about her as they never had before. Oh, they'd been strict always, but there was a farm to run, and every member of the family had to do their part. And maybe they hadn't always been as kind and sweet as Auntie Em, but nobody was as kind and sweet as Auntie Em. They were her parents. They loved her. Didn't they?

"I most certainly don't know that she belongs anywhere but with her family," Auntie Em said indignantly.

"Honestly, Em. You act like the girls is yours, but she's no more yours than mine. Perhaps … perhaps she belongs somewhere more equipped for … problematic children."

Auntie Em gasped, and seemed about to faint, though Dorothy thought she was, perhaps, being dramatic on purpose. She couldn't say why what her mother had said was so horrible, as she didn't know where her mother meant to send her, but she did know that Em was right. She belonged with her family. She had fought so hard to get back here, and now they didn't want her? It couldn't be true. She'd make it not true.

"I'm sorry I killed the witch," she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Please don't send me away."

"Dear, when you say witch, perhaps you simply mean a bad person," Auntie Em said in that kind tone of hers.

Dorothy wasn't sure what to say, so she wiped her face and simply said what she knew to be true. "Well, she may have been a bad person, but she was also a witch. Her skin was green, and she wore a pointed hat, and when I threw water on her she melted before my eyes. Then the Wizard of Oz -"

"Of where?" her father asked.

"Oz. It's a magical land over the rainbow. The twister took me there, and I wasn't sure I would be able to make it home, but then –"

"Dorothy," her mother said, "there are no witches in Kansas."

"But it wasn't Kansas!"

"Honestly, do you hear yourself?" her mother asked. "You've always been such a fanciful girl, dreaming of far-off places, and you've managed to somehow survive scrapes, how I have no clue. I was always grateful, but now this … You sound mad, girl."

"We can't have madness in our house," her father said. "But there are … places, for that sort of thing."

"Places?" Dorothy asked. Her cheeks were still tearstained, and something in her father's tone when he said 'places' had her quite frightened.

"Institutions," her mother said in a hushed tone, clarifying absolutely nothing for Dorothy.

"Annie, John, you can't mean to send the girl to a madhouse?" Auntie Em said in equally hushed tones.

"A madhouse!" Dorothy exclaimed. "I'm not mad."

"Witches and magical lands? What would you call that, if not madness?" her father asked.

"It was just … just a funny thing that happened, because of the storm. The storm took me over the rainbow, and then I found my way home. Please don't send me away. Please don't send me to a madhouse."

Her father shook his head. "There's nothing for it, girl. If you believe these things, truly believe them, then that's the only house you can call home."

She wanted to say it wasn't true. It would save her. But some stubbornness rose up in her like it never had before, and she found herself growing angry. Why couldn't they believe her? Of course, it was strange. She thought it was strange as well. But she'd seen it with her own two eyes and shouldn't that be enough for them? Why couldn't they trust her? How could they send her away like this?

"If you love me, as a mother and father should, you will not send me to a madhouse," she said plainly.

Her mother shook her head. "I'm sorry, Dorothy. It's for your own good."

"Oh, her own good, poppycock," Auntie Em said. "You're sending her off because it's more convenient for you. You'd have sent her off when we found her if I hadn't spoken up on the subject."

"Found me?" Dorothy echoed.

"Taking in an abandoned child is one thing. Keeping a mad one is another."

The fighting went on, but in the end, it was decided. When morning came, John Gale would take Dorothy to the nearest madhouse and leave her there.

---

Neal's head was spinning. That was the Evil Queen (or Wicked Witch) talking to Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz in the other room, and she was heading right for them. If she found them … They needed to hide. Neal looked to the door behind him, but the lock was high-tech, and he didn't have the time to figure it out.

Following his gaze, Paige spoke up. "I swiped the keycard before," she whispered, presenting a piece of plastic and swiping them all into the room. Neal closed the door behind them as quietly as he could.

"Why did you—?" Henry began to ask.

"To get into Dorothy's room. They all use the same key."

"Fire. Fire. Fire," a mumbling came from the corner. All three of them turned to see a man rocking back and forth.

"Fire, fire, fire, don't stoke the fire, keep away from the fire, don't stoke the fire."

"Hey, are you okay?" Henry asked. He started to walk towards the man, but Neal pulled him back.

"Stay here. Listen … listen by the door. Let me know when the coast is clear, yeah?"

Henry nodded. "Do you know who that guy is?" Henry asked Paige.

Paige shrugged. "I've never been in here before. I guess he's a patient."

"Cursed patient," Henry said.

"Well, obviously," Paige said, rolling her eyes.

The man was scrunching himself into the corner, away from where they were.

"Shouldn't we help him?" Henry asked.

"We don't know what's wrong with him, buddy. We could make it worse."

"But you're a nurse," Henry said. "Isn't this what you do?"

Neal nodded. "Yeah. But I usually have more resources than being trapped in a room with a guy mumbling to himself about fire."

"FIRE!" the man yelled, making them all jump. "Fire. Burn. Stay away from the fire. Don't burn. Don't burn. Please make it stop, please make it stop."

Neal looked at Henry, motioning him again towards the door, and Henry dutifully kept his ear there. Neal made a couple of soft strides toward the man, who just put his hands on his ears and continued rocking and shaking. "You're not here. You're not here. Nobody's here. Nobody is ever here."

"She's gone," Henry said.

Neal let out a breath and rushed the kids out the door as well, closing it behind him.

"That was a relief."

"Why was he like that, Dad?" Henry asked.

"I don't know. The curse, maybe."

"It was kind of scary."

"Yeah, well, that's curses, I guess. Now, let's go talk to this Dorothy."

---

The Mills twins were, well, rather obedient and well behaved, Jamie observed. She'd noticed it before, and other teachers had said the same. That was why she had been so surprised when Mr. Hopper had reported that they had skipped class. She couldn't play favorites, though, which meant holding them back when school ended.

She could have had them write lines, but she didn't think that was practical. It worked for students who hadn't done their homework well enough. Sitting and writing was exactly what they'd tried to avoid. Skipping lessons, however—and refusing to say where they'd been—required a more difficult punishment.

She'd set Ava and Nicholas up in the gymnasium with soapy water and mops. They'd been at it for a few hours now, but it was a big gymnasium, and they were making progress. They didn't seem to mind the work, which she respected, even if they wouldn't tell her where they'd been or why they had felt the need to skip class.

Ava was partial to dresses, but Jamie had given her some overalls from the lost-and-found for the task, so that her skirt didn't get soaked. She'd also offered Nicholas a short-sleeved shirt, but he'd declined. His sleeves, which were buttoned to the wrist, were now soaked through.

"Over here, Mr. Mills," Jamie said, and Nicholas came dutifully. "I believe it's time to change out your shirt," she said, once again offering him the shirt.

Nicholas shook his head. "I'm fine."

"Your sleeves are soaked. If you refuse to change it out, at least unbutton them and roll them up."

Again, Nicholas shook his head. Jamie reached out for his arm, but he stepped back. "Mr. Mills, I insisted you either roll up your sleeves or change out your shirt this instant, unless you'd like me to hold you down and take the shirt off for you." She wasn't authorized to do that, of course, but Nicholas didn't know that. And if she was honest with herself, she was beginning to get concerned. She realized that she'd never seen the boy in a short-sleeved shirt or with his sleeves rolled up, and the way he stepped back made alarm bells go off in her head.

Nicholas went over to his sister, and the two started whispering together. Then Ava said, "I'll help him change." She took the shirt, took her brothers hand, and headed off to the restrooms. When the two returned a few moments later, Jamie gasped. Fark red and purple bumps covered some parts of his arms, while in others, the skin was nearly white.

"I don't like people to see," Nicholas said, sheepishly. Throughout the day, Nicholas had seemed almost robotic in his obedience, even as he had refused to change his shirt. In this moment, however, he was every bit a child.

"Nicholas, where did you get those scars?"

"I don't remember," he said.

"Do they hurt you?" she asked, getting down to his level.

He shook his head. "Sometimes the skin feels itchy or tight, but it's not so bad."

"Well," she said, clearing her throat and trying to keep her voice gentle. "Well, perhaps there's a way to treat the itching, have the scars removed even. A cosmetic surgeon perhaps?"

Nicholas shook his head vigorously. "I'm supposed to have them."

"Do you like them?" she asked, surprised.

Nicholas shook his head again. "No, but I'm supposed to have them. They're a reminder."

"A reminder of what?"

Nicholas didn't say anything. Then Ava spoke up. "May we get back to work? We don't want to inconvenience our parents with how late we'll be."

Jamie nodded. "Of course. That's the last thing I would want." As the children resumed their cleaning, Jamie found her mind wandering to what exactly inconveniencing their parents might entail.

---

It had been a pretty good first night, all things considered. David didn't know what he had expected in working with Mary Margaret, but it wasn't this. Sure, she was a little bit of a scatterbrain, and she tended to have her head in the clouds, but it appeared she genuinely cared about bettering the town, and she was willing to put in the work. He was surprised.

"Do you need a ride home?" he heard Ashley ask.

"That's fine. Hank is actually picking me up. We're going to hang out."

There was something lewd about the way she said it, and the way she winked at Ashley. That had to be what bothered David. "Please leave your personal life at home."

"We're off the clock," Mary Margaret said, rolling her eyes.

"I just don't want to hear about your random hookups."

"Is it random?" Ashley asked, with more enthusiasm than David felt. Frankly, he felt nauseous.

"We're having fun," Mary Margaret said with a shrug. "It doesn't have to mean anything."

"Well," David said, "I'm going to go home to my wife. And I won't say what we'll do, because it's inappropriate to state it in the workplace, but if we were, at least we wouldn't be committing any pre-marital sins."

Mary Margaret scoffed. "Why am I not surprised that you're that old-fashioned? There's nothing wrong with enjoying the pleasures of the flesh without any strings attached."

"Excuse me, while I vomit," David said.

"I'm just going to go," Ashley said, pointing to the door.

"It's not about you. And you're the one who brought it up, anyway. How I choose to spend my time – "

"With some cheap handyman who is only interested in a good time."

"A good time is all I'm interested at this point in my life, and you don't even know him!"

"I know that if you got pregnant, he'd be out of there so fast – "

There was a noise from over by the door. Both of them turned to find that Ashley (who David had already forgotten was there) had tripped over one of the mouse traps.

"Are you okay?" Mary Margaret asked.

Ashley readjusted the trap and righted herself. "F-fine," she stuttered. "Um, I have to get home. I'll see you both, I guess." She ran out with both of them staring after her.

They both stood there for a minute, not saying anything. Then, they heard a horn honk. "That's Hank." Mary Margaret said. She left without another word, and David watched her get into Hank's truck through the window, trying not to think too hard about the way his gut twisted at the sight.

---

"Dorothy?" Paige asked.

"Paige!" Dorothy exclaimed. "It's good to see you. I hope you didn't have a run-in with my last visitor."

Paige smiled placatingly. "We kept hidden; I promise."

"We?"

"Yeah. Remember those people I told you about? The new people in town?"

"Yes. They have the Wicked Witch mighty worried," Dorothy said.

"Well, she should be. Anyway, I brought a couple of them to talk to you. They have this book and … it lines up with what you were telling me."

Neal and Henry stepped forward. "Um, hi," Henry said. "So, you're Dorothy? Like, from the Wizard of Oz?"

"No, he wasn't my father," Dorothy said. "I barely interacted with him, actually."

"He didn't mean it like that," Neal said. "I don't know if you know but … a lot of the stories from your world, Oz, the Enchanted Forest, they somehow slipped through into this world as children's stories. But they're not always accurate."

"Oh. Yes. Paige was telling me I was in a book," Dorothy said.

"And a movie!" Henry said.

"What's a movie?" Dorothy asked.

"You don't know?" Neal asked. "But, if you've been in this world – "

"For as long as I've been in this world, I've been in this cell. It was the Wicked Witch's ultimate punishment for me. She knows that as a child I was thought insane, and nearly locked up. My own family didn't believe the stories I told them of Oz. She thinks she can make me that scared little kid again, locked up, nobody believing my stories, as I watch her victory. But I'm not that kid anymore. I'm strong, and I won't give up on trying to stop her."

"How did you … I mean, how did Paige … ?"

"I came in here by accident," Paige said. "And Dorothy was … interesting. Nice, for sure, and she seems more … together than my sister. I like her stories."

"So, Dorothy, why not tell us a story?" Neal suggested.

"First, why don't you tell me who you are, how you came to Storybrooke, why I should trust you? After all, you know all about me. You read it in a book, right?"

"We're not in a book," Henry said, "But my mom is. Look." Henry held the book up, showing the picture of his mother in her baby blanket being put in the magical wardrobe that brought her to this world.

Dorothy gasped. "The Savior! That's Snow and David's child."

"You knew them?" Neal asked.

"They fought the Wicked Witch together," Henry said. "I thought you read it."

"Just parts," Neal said.

"Which parts?" Henry asked.

"Can we get back on topic, please?" Paige asked. "So, you know about his mom, about this whole Savior thing?"

Dorothy nodded. "I was in the war room when they were discussing how to handle everything."

"That's at the end of the book," Henry said. "But it doesn't specify everyone in the room."

"Well, I was there. And if she's here, then she can free us all. She has to break this curse."

"Okay, but how?" Neal asked.

"I don't know," Dorothy said, "but it's her destiny, and you can't mess with destiny."

"Isn't it kind of screwed up that they'd put something like that on the shoulders of a baby? Their only child?" Neal said.

"I'm sorry. I know better than most what it's like when your family sends you off to a foreign land because you have some sort of destiny, or because they're trying to protect you. Did she … did she find someone to love her?"

"Yeah. Me, and my dad, and then our son," Neal said. "Why do you care?"

"Snow and David were my friends. I know they loved their daughter. Besides which, I've been in her shoes."

"We're trying to find them," Henry said. "We're trying to find everyone in the book, so my mom can push them towards where they're supposed to be. But … it's hard to know who everybody is. I don't know this town. I don't know what to look for."

"If you bring me people's likenesses, I can try to help with that."

"Likenesses, like photos?" Henry asked.

"Yes, that would work. In any case, I can already tell you who Snow and David are. Zelena, the Wicked Witch, she likes to brag to me. She made Snow White her sister, and she made Snow's husband her own husband. She made them both hate each other, and worship her. Everybody in this town worships her. Except, of course, your family. Be careful. She knows you don't belong here. She'll try to get rid of you."

"We can take care of ourselves," Neal said.

"I hope so."

"We should go," Paige said. "We'll get those photos for you and come back."

"Hey," Henry said. "You said you were like my mom, and you asked if she had someone to love her. So, did you? Have someone to love you?"

Dorothy smiled, her eyes glassy. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I did."

---

Dorothy had been in and out of sleep all night. Every time she started to drift off, another nightmare hit her. She'd heard tell of madhouses, even walked by one once. She didn't know a lot, but what little she knew was filled in by her imagination, and she jerked awake in a cold sweat.

The fourth time it happened, she heard a noise coming from right outside her window. It didn't sound like rain or wind, and despite herself, she was curious. It wasn't as though she could sleep.

She got up and opened the shutter. "Come out here, girl," Auntie Em said.

She was standing there with a bicycle of all things. She looked a tad ridiculous.

"What are you about, Auntie Em?" she asked.

"You don't belong in a madhouse, girl. Neither of us ever did, and I won't let them do that to you." Auntie Em squared her shoulders and tried to look tough. It was a sight to seem, "So, you get your keister out that window, down here, and we'll go off."

"I don't … go off?"

"Yes, girl, off. Off into the night. You're still a little wisp of thing; the two of us can fit on this here bike. I've packed a few things in the basket, some food and money to get us through – "

"Auntie Em, I … we can't just run away."

"And why not?"

"I fought so hard to get home. I belong here."

Auntie Em shook her head, "I wish that were true, dear girl. I do. I love my sister, but if she's willing to chuck you into a madhouse, she's the one who's mad."

"But I'm just a child. I can't be on my own. And where would I go?"

"What are you talking about, alone? I'll be there with you, and we'll ride this bike until we get clear of this place. We'll start over somewhere new. I'm sure it can be done."

"You can't … Perhaps I can't stay, but you have a home here. Nobody is trying to chuck you in a madhouse."

"They're trying to chuck my Dorothy in one, and that's good enough for me. I do not want to be around the likes of them anymore. Let them imagine I caught consumption and went off to die quietly."

"You would leave your home for me?"

"You are my home, Dorothy girl. I love you. Now let me help you through those shutters."

Dorothy climbed up on the window ledge, and Auntie Em reached through with her arms, pulling Dorothy to the other side.

"I'm still not certain," Dorothy said. "So many things could go wrong."

"I imagine things went wrong while you were in Oz, didn't they? But you pushed through and made it home, because you're, brave, smart, and full of heart."

Dorothy's eyes widened. "You believe me!?" she asked, hope in her voice.

"I do. But we mustn't tell anyone."

"I don't like to lie," Dorothy said. "Shouldn't the truth be what matters?"

Auntie Em smiled. "Oh, the innocence of youth. I wish we could all be ourselves and speak our pieces and that would be enough, but the world just isn't made that way."

"If the world isn't made that way, where can we go that is?"

"For now, on the run," Auntie Em said. "Someday, who knows? The future is ours. This here farm held us back anyway."

"I'll miss it. All I wanted in Oz was to find a way home," Dorothy said, swatting at the tears that were forming.

Auntie Em touched her cheek affectionately. "I know. And I'm so glad you came back to me. But we'll be alright. You trust me, don't you?"

Dorothy nodded, sniffling. "I do, Auntie Em."

"Then let's fly."

Auntie Em climbed onto the bicycle and helped Dorothy settle in front of her. She began to peddle, and she didn't slow down until the Gale's farmhouse was a speck in the distance.

---

"Finally," Emma said, when she heard someone at the door.

According to her father-in-law, Neal had taken Henry for a playdate after school, mut it was late, and he hadn't checked in. She had started to get worried about a half-hour ago, when she'd tried calling and he didn't pick up. So, she was relieved to hear someone at the door. They were knocking, but it was too late for any visitors, so it had to be Neal.

"Did you forget your keys?" she asked as she opened the door. It wasn't Neal and Henry on the other side, though, "Ashley?"

"I know it's late," Ashley said, breezing past her, "but you said I could come talk to you if I needed."

"I did. I … are you okay?"

"Yes," Ashley said, holding herself up straight. Then, she seemed to collapse in on herself. "No. No, I'm not. But I have made a decision. I'm … I want to keep my baby. I have a job now, and a place to live, and so what if I'm 19 and unmarried? I … I want this."

"I'm happy for you," Emma said.

"Really?" Ashley asked, her face breaking out into a smile. "Because I know it won't be easy, and people will judge me, like, a lot. But – "

"If you ask me, it's your old employer they should be judging."

"Oh, I wasn't planning on telling anyone who the father was."

"I guess that's your choice," Emma said with a sigh. "But if you change your mind, I can help you hold him accountable. Take legal action. You would be entitled to compensation."

Ashley shook her head. "I don't want to destroy him. He has a family, a young son. And I don't want him thinking I need him, either. I don't."

"Well, I'd say that's cause for celebration. How would you like something to eat?"

Ashley nodded. "Oh my god, yes! I'm starving. Like, all the time. I can't keep stuff down half the time, but that doesn't stop me from wanting to eat."

"Well, I picked up some dinner for myself, my husband, and my kid from Granny's. They've been out kind of late, so they probably picked up something themselves. Why don't you take his burger?"

"No pickle, right? The smell is just – "

"It's pickle-less, I promise. I'll warm it up for you."

Ashley was halfway through the burger when Neal came in with Henry.

"Well, look who's finally home," Emma said coldly.

"Uh, I'm going to go find Grandpa," Henry said, making himself scarce.

"What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" Emma repeated, staring at him as he settled in like everything was perfectly normal. "Do you not see how late it is?"

"Henry had a playdate. Didn't Pop tell you?" Neal asked, as he hung up his coat.

"He did, hours ago, but I figured you would call and check in. Then I tried calling you, and you didn't even pick up. I was worried. But now I see you're fine, so I'm just pissed. Where were you?"

Neal shrugged. "With Henry and his new friend Paige. We lost track of time."

"And not picking up, or even texting back?" Emma asked.

"Sorry, I put my phone on silent when we were hiding from …" Neal trailed off, his eyes widening slightly.

"Hiding from …?" Emma asked.

"Paige. Playing hide and seek." Neal quickly. "Are you honestly mad at me for playing with our kid?"

"No. I just … I was worried."

"And then pissed," Neal finished.

"And pissed."

"There's no reason to be. Everything's fine, I promise." Neal gave her a peck on the cheek. "I'm going to head to bed. See you in there in a bit?"

Emma nodded, watching him go.

"You guys having problems?" Ashley asked.

"No," Emma said, folding her arms defensively.

"Hey, if you want me to trust you, you have to trust me," Ashley said.

Emma sat back down with her. "It's just always the same story with us. He doesn't trust me. Won't let me in."

"Maybe that's because he's letting someone else in."

"That's not … No, he wouldn't."

"I'm just saying, I've known a lot of guys, been with a lot of guys, and they always get defensive when they think you're getting suspicious. You know, make you think the problem is you."

Emma shook her head. She knew it was a common pattern of behavior. She'd read the statistics and heard of the cases when she was learning to be a social worker. But she knew Neal. He would never … The image of Neal with Jamie sitting together in their room at Granny's crept up unbidden in her mind. "Neal's not like that," she said finally.

"Right. Whatever you say."

---

Graham's heart went out to Emma, as he watched Ashley leave her alone with her thoughts for the night. He noticed that she didn't go to join her husband in bed, even with her guest gone. It was late, and she had to be tired, but she was just sitting at her kitchen table, staring off into space.

In his opinion, Ashley was onto something. He'd done some asking around, and according to May Tennant, Neal had been stalking the principal at the local school. Graham still had talk to Jamie herself, but he believed May. She wasn't the sort to cry wolf. And if it turned out that Neal did have something going on with Jamie on the side, she wouldn't be so forthcoming with information, anyway.

A man who would cheat on his wife was not a good man, but something Neal had said to Emma stuck out in Graham's mind. He had said he was hiding. He'd played off the comment as a game of hide-and-seek, but the way he'd trailed off initially implied he'd been talking about something else. Of course, a man having an affair would have a reason to hide, but so would a stalker. So would a man who followed women and then beat them bloody. And what sort of man brought his child along on such business?

Still, none of it was evidence. Graham needed a witness to finger Neal, or to catch him in the act. He needed to be vigilant in watching him, learn his habits, see when he went out. Then he could follow him, and maybe he could step in before Neal struck next. Maybe he could save the next victim before it was too late.

---

"And she said we should find people and take pictures of them, then bring them back to her and she can tell us who everybody is. This is going to blow Operation Cobra wide open!" Henry said.

"Slow down," Rumple said. "I can tell you're excited, and it's good that you've gathered more information. However, you took a great risk in sneaking into that asylum. You were almost caught."

"Dad was great, though, coming up with that cover story, and Paige knows the place. She's there all the time, because of her sister."

"And what makes her certain that her sister is less than sane, while Dorothy is simply cursed?"

"I mean, I don't know exactly, but she said she noticed a difference."

"Henry, are you sure we can trust Paige? She is, after all, as cursed as anyone else. If she's aware of the curse, perhaps it's because the Evil Queen wants her to be."

Henry took a moment to think about it, "Why would she want her to be?"

"Oh, to get us to let our guard down. To be an informant of some sort."

"The Evil Queen doesn't know who we are or why we're here," Henry said. "How could she know to have someone spy on us?"

"Because she knows we don't belong here, and yet we showed up."

Henry nodded, "I guess. But for now, I trust Paige. And I for sure trust Dorothy. I mean, the Evil Queen is also the Wicked Witch, and Dorothy defeats the Wicked Witch in most versions."

"By spilling some water on her, if I understand it correctly," Rumple said with a derisive snort.

"Well, she does more than that in my book. I thought you read it?"

Rumple was quiet for a moment. "Not all of it. There were certain bits that interested me."

"Yeah, I noticed that," Henry said. "Hey, Grandpa, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Why do you and Dad believe me? I mean, I'm not dumb. I know most grown-ups wouldn't. Mom wouldn't. But you and Dad just … do."

"We know you're a smart boy."

"Yeah, but so does Mom. So do my teachers. If I came to them with this, they would think I was making it up, or playing pretend, or look at me like I was just some kid who still believed in Santa."

"Well, we all know Santa's real. He comes every Christmas," Rumple said, smiling.

"Yeah, but that's just Dad in a costume."

"And you know that because you're smart. You know the difference between reality and fabrication, Henry. That's why we believe you."

"If you say so."

"Now, why don't you tell me about Dorothy's role in your book?"

---

They had been on the road for three or four days at this point. Auntie Em had taught Dorothy to pedal, so that they could take turns, but they still usually needed to set up camp for the night.

At the first town they came to, they bought a few camping supplies. Not many, as they were low on funds, just a blanket to share, really. They would light a fire if it was needed, and they bought a pan for cooking. They had been lucky that it hadn't rained since they'd hit the road, but a tent might be necessary at some point.

Still, they were loath to spend more money than necessary, especially since Auntie Em had really only packed enough food and water to last a week or so.

"We could work on one of the farms," Dorothy suggested. "We've both done it, and I don't mind the hard work."

In truth, Dorothy hadn't done much work on the farm, growing up. Oh, she'd done some. Every farmer's daughter did. But she had been young, and as her mother had said, Auntie Em liked to coddle her. She could learn, though. She knew she could. And Auntie Em could bake, and they'd be warm and fed, and it would be like they'd never left.

So, the following day, the two of them inquired at one of the farmhouses. "We don't need much by way of pay," Auntie Em said. "Just room and board. Come now, I know farms. An extra set of hands is always useful."

"Well," the farmer's wife said, "I suppose we could use a hired girl. And she looks sturdy enough." She eyed Dorothy up and down.

"She is. We both are. Thank you. We'll be no trouble, I promise."

"Hold on, now. I said we can use her, not you."

"And why would that be?"

"Well, the work might be a bit of a strain on your old bones."

"I'm not stranger to hard work. I've worked many a farm in my day."

"That may be true, but it seems as though your day is long over. We don't need someone with aching limbs, who will need rest, water, and care from the town doctor. It's a strain on time and a strain on purse strings. And then when you keel over from the sun, we'll need to find a place to bury you. You'd be more trouble than you're worth."

"Auntie Em is very useful," Dorothy said. "She makes the best cookies, and tells the best stories."

"And if we had young'en, maybe that would be worth something. But the kids are up and grown. What we need is hardy workers. I'll hire the girl, give her a place to live, but we have no use for you."

Dorothy looked like she might sob. The farmer's wife gave her a stern look, "I'm sorry girl, but that's just the way it is. Do you want the job?"

"Of course, she does!" Auntie Em said. "I'll, well, I'll be on my way." She started to turn.

"Auntie Em!" Dorothy called, running after her.

"It's fine, dear girl. I'll be fine. And you'll be cared for. That's what mattered."

"I won't be cared for. Not for certain. They'll hire me, and they'll let me live here, but they won't care for me any more than my parents did. And if they don't care, there's nothing to stop them chucking me away when they have no more use for me. You'd never chuck me away. And you're here because of me. You could be safe at home, but you're not, because I needed you."

She turned to the farmer's wife. "I'm sorry, Ma'am, but I can't take the job unless you'll hire Auntie Em too."

The farmer's wife shook her head. "Then you can't take the job. It's a shame. You would have been useful, but the work you would do isn't worth two more mouths to feed when one is an old sack of bones." She went back inside her house, slamming the door.

"Dorothy, I wish you hadn't. You'll starve, or get sick from rain, and I'll never forgive myself."

"It's hardly your fault, Auntie Em. We're family, and we have to stick together, because I need you more than a roof or food. Besides which, she was a mean old witch, anyway. We'll try the next farm. Perhaps, they'll be nicer."

The next farm wasn't nicer, nor was the one after that. The most anyone was willing to take on was Dorothy, and some weren't even willing to do that much. Some were kinder about it than others, but it all came down to the same thing. Auntie Em would use more resources than she could get for them, and none of the farming families were willing to hire her.

One farm was run by a widower who had a look in his eye that scared Dorothy. The way he eyed her up and down when he said he'd take her on sent a chill up her spine, and Dorothy could tell Auntie Em didn't like him either. When they were clear of his farm, Auntie Em took out four fresh eggs and a jug of fresh milk.

"Auntie Em!" Dorothy said. "Where did you get that?"

"From that farmer man, when he wasn't looking. I would have taken more, but I didn't want to leave you alone with that sort."

"But that's stealing, Auntie Em," Dorothy said, her eyes wide in shock.

"I know. But desperate times call for desperate measures. We're out of food; we need it more than he does. Besides which, he wasn't a very good man."

Dorothy nodded. She had no proof he wasn't a good man, but somehow, she knew it to be true, "Well, this won't last us long," she said. "Will we have to steal again?"

Auntie Em sighed. "You're a good girl, Dorothy, and I love you for that, but sometimes, needs must. Yes, I believe we will steal again. Never more than we need. And only food and water. Let them have the trimmings. But we need to survive. I made a promise a long time ago to keep you alive, and I intend to keep it."

"A promise to who?" Dorothy asked.

"That's a story for another day. Now, why don't we set a fire and cook these eggs up for supper?"

Dorothy nodded. She didn't like the idea of stealing, but Auntie Em was a good person, and she seemed to be saying they had no choice. Despite herself, Dorothy missed Oz. It had been scary there, but someone had always seemed to help her out, like Glinda, or the munchkins.

It occurred to her idly that she still had the slippers. They could probably take her back to Oz if she wanted. But she didn't know if she could take Auntie Em with her, and even if she could, who was to say people in Oz wouldn't be as cruel to Auntie Em as the many farming families they'd talked to?

Dorothy started up the fire and put two of the eggs in the pan to fry up. They could have the other two in the morning. Auntie Em passed the jug of milk to Dorothy and she took a drink. She almost wept at how good it tasted. Had it truly been less than a week since she'd left home?

Of course, before that, she had been in Oz, trying to get home. Now she was homeless. Tears pricked her eyes, and Auntie Em pulled her close, making shushing sounds and stroking her hair.

"We'll be all right," Auntie Em said. "We'll be all right."

---

Mary Margaret had been up half the night thinking about what David had said. There was probably a simple solution, but she knew she wasn't always good at working things out herself. It occurred to her to go to Emma for advice, but she shrugged off the idea. This was very personal and should be kept in the family. With that in mind, she showed up at her sister's office before work. Selena's assistant sent her right in.

"This is a surprise," her sister said.

"I thought we could have breakfast," Mary Margaret said.

"Of course. I'll send Jack out to Granny's, have him pick something up for the both of us."

Mary Margaret nodded. "That sounds nice." She waited, while her sister sent Mr. Scathe out for food for the two of them. She ordered two salad's with chicken and water bottles. It wasn't an ideal meal, but it was sweet of her sister to treat.

"So, is there something on your mind?"

"How did you guess?" Mary Margaret asked.

"Well, you don't usually drop in for breakfast. Not that you don't have the time, of course."

Mary Margaret nodded, "Well, I suppose I wanted to talk to you about this guy I've been seeing?"

"Oh?" Selena said, raising an eyebrow curiously. "Well, go on. Don't keep me in suspense."

"His name is Hank. It's casual. Fun. Nothing serious. You know me."

"I do."

"Anyway, there was a comment someone made the other day, just being cruel really, so I tried to ignore it, but I kept thinking … well, I use protection, of course, but contraceptives aren't always effective and I … I don't want to end up in a situation that's … I guess I'm just trying to think if there's a way I could continue having fun without the danger of pregnancy."

Her sister smiled. "I'm glad you came to me with this. I have the perfect solution."

---

It was an early morning for everyone except Emma. Neal had a new job, apparently, and had left for work before Emma was even up to wish him well.

It was probably for the best. He needed to be in a good place for his first day, and she was still a little bitter about last night. She was grateful he'd let her sleep in.

Meanwhile, Henry's files had finally transferred, so he was officially a student at the local school, and his grandfather had gotten up bright and early to take him over.

They had left a note for Emma. Her father-in-law had also been kind enough to make a special first-day-of-school breakfast for Henry, and the note indicated leftover pancakes in the fridge.

She was meeting Mary Margaret later to discuss the shelter and how she could be of help, but her morning was pretty free. She was still in her pajamas when the doorbell rang, and she was none too happy to have been woken up. Seeing who was at the door didn't improve her mood.

"Neal's not here," she said to the local principal, who she could still picture all cozy on a couch with her husband. "Anyway, it's a school day. Shouldn't you be at work?" It wasn't her business, of course, and she knew that. Still, she was sleepy, and annoyed, and not too fond of the woman, and somehow the words just slipped out.

To her credit, Ms. Jones didn't address Emma's rude comment about her scheduling priorities. She simply said, "Actually, I came to speak with you."

"About what?"

"Could I come inside?"

"Why don't you tell me what you want to talk about first?" Emma said, crossing her arms.

"Very well. You're a social worker, correct?"

"I mean, technically. I'm sort of unemployed, right now. Not so easy to up and move without a job lined up. But yeah, my degree is in social work."

"Then I was hoping you could help me proceed. I have a child in one of my classes who always wears long sleeves, even in the summer. I recently discovered that he has deep scaring on his arms. He seemed to want to hide it, and claimed not to remember where the scars came from. Now, it's of course possible that there was some traumatic incident, and I hardly want to overstep or make anyone uncomfortable. However, I care about my students, I want to protect them, and it occurred to me that perhaps he was keeping quiet because he feared the person who harmed him. Perhaps that harm happens regularly."

Ms. Jones speech had sobered Emma pretty quickly. "You think he's being abused."

"I think it's possible, yes. And Storybrooke has no resources for such things, but I thought perhaps –"

"Let me reach out to some contacts I have, see what I can find about procedures in Maine. Normally, there would be a home study first, and then if he is being abused by his parents, further steps would be taken."

"It would be his father, I think," Ms. Jones said.

"Single dad?"

"No. But I know the mother, and she'd never do this."

"It can be surprising, what some people are capable of," Emma said.

Ms. Jones shook her head vigorously. "You don't understand. I'm speaking about Nicholas Mills."

"The mayor's kid?"

"Yes. So, you see why it being the mother would be impossible?"

Emma nodded, though she didn't. Frankly, she didn't get why everyone in town was so gone on the mayor. But she knew a lost battle when she saw one. If Mayor Mills was hurting her son, it was the authorities who would need convincing. And if it turned out to be true, Emma would help him. That was what she did.

---

Some days, Neal really hated himself. Getting to a new job early made a good first impression; he knew this. At the same time, he would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that it was also a good excuse to be out of the house before Emma woke up.

He wanted to fix things. He didn't want her to look at him like she couldn't trust him. She could trust him. Maybe not to tell her everything, every truth about his past (or hers), but she could trust that he loved her, that he would protect her, that he would have her back, and that he would never cheat or hurt her. The problem with the last one was that he was hurting her. Over the years, she had grown less patient with the things he couldn't tell her, but their bond had also grown stronger, and there was always Henry when things started to get hard. He had hoped that someday she would just … stop asking. It was stupid, and naïve, and he should have known better, but what other option was there, really?

There was another option, now. It was the option where he told her everything. He was from a fairy tale world. So was she. Her parents were Snow White and Prince Charming, and wasn't it funny how they just happened to be in this very town with no memory of each other or her? She'd think he was nuts, of course, but according to Henry's book, there was a prophecy. She had to break the curse, so one way or another, someday, she would have to believe. He couldn't imagine what would get her to, but once she did, would everything be good? She had to understand that he couldn't have told her, right? She had to understand why he hadn't?

And then there was his father. When the curse broke, would he be the Dark One again? Would he kill again? Would Neal have to choose between the family he had made and his father?

It was too early in the morning to think about any of it, and his cup of coffee from Granny's hadn't kicked in yet, but he had arrived at the address Dr. Drake had given him, so hopefully, the job would take his mind off all of this magic crap.

He rang the doorbell, and Dr. Drake answered the door.

"Mr. Stiltskin, you're right on time."

Neal nodded. "Thanks."

"Come in," she said, leading him through her large manor to a small room with an old rocking chair by a table near the entrance, and a bed in the right-hand corner.

"Mother?" she called.

"You needn't shout," a voice coming from the bed said. "I'm blind, not deaf."

"I was simply letting you know that I'm in the room," Dr. Drake said.

"Your footsteps tell me that," the woman said, doing her best to sit up. "They also tell me you've brought a guest."

"I told you yesterday," Dr. Drake said impatiently, "I hired a nurse to look after you during the day while I'm at work."

"Ah, yes. the young man you mentioned. The babysitter," the woman said. "Well, he doesn't talk much. Speak!"

"Um, hi. I'm Neal Stiltskin."

"Stiltskin. Isn't that out of an old children's tale? The one about the baby-snatcher?"

Neal groaned internally. "Never much liked that tale."

"Me neither," said Dr. Drake's mother.

"Really?" Neal asked, taking the chair by her bed, despite not being asked to sit. "Why's that?"

"It never made much sense to me. Why would he call out the answer to his own riddle in the woods, out where anyone could hear him? Why did stomping his foot split him in two? And why exactly did he want the baby in the first place? Too many plot holes, too many unanswered questions."

"I think my son would like you," Neal said.

"Oh?"

"He's ten, and he likes stories."

"Well, I like stories too. Stories, and those who tell them. A lifetime ago, I loved a writer, my daughter's father. Together, we came up with the most wonderful stories."

"What happened?"

"Oh, life. He died quite a long time ago, and I lost my sight, so reading wasn't an option anymore."

Neal thought of saying that there were audiobooks, but somehow, that felt like the wrong answer. "I could read to you," he said instead.

"That would be lovely," she replied. "Alana, I approve of this one. For now."

Neal smiled. "Mrs. Drake – "

"Oh, no. No, don't call me that. Call me Sierra."

"Sierra, is there a book you'd like me to read to you now?"

"If I may interrupt?" Dr. Drake said. "You are of course free to read and talk as you like, but you're here for more practical purposes. Helping her with food and the bathroom – "

"Oh, hush. I can make my way to the bathroom on my own. I know the feel of this old house as if it's the only place I've ever lived."

Dr. Drake sighed. "Well, be sure to watch her, and be there if she looks like she might fall. She has a bell to call for help, and here's a schedule for her eating and medicine times, as well as what she needs and what she can't have." Dr. Drake handed a binder to Neal.

"Details," Sierra said, waving Dr. Drake off. "Go to work, dear. Neal and I need to get acquainted."

---

"What is that?" Henry asked, as Paige put the large clunky machine on the table between them.

"It's a Polaroid," Paige said, like he was some kind of idiot.

"Well … what's it for?"

"Taking pictures of people, stupid."

Henry squinted at the thing. "Why not just use our phones? Wouldn't that be easier?"

Paige cocked her head to one side. "How? It's not like phones can take pictures."

Henry took out his cell phone, and Paige gaped at it. "What is that?"

"It's my phone. Mom never lets me go anywhere without it. You saw my grandfather using one the other day, remember?"

"I remember. I thought it was weird then, too. Because first of all, Uncle Ben would never let me have a cell phone, and second of all, I've seen them, and they don't look like that. It doesn't even have any buttons on it; how could you call someone?"

"It's an iPhone," Henry said. "It has a touch screen."

"But how – ?"

"We don't need to go into how technology in this town is weird and old. All you need to know is that I can take pictures with it."

"Yeah, well, I'll stick with this if it's all the same to you," Paige said. "I've already gotten pictures of Mr. Hopper and some of the other teachers. I told them it was for a school project."

"We should get other students too," Henry said. "Especially the Mills twins. If she decided to make them her kids, they must be important, right?"

Paige nodded. "Probably."

"Okay. So, at recess we'll take pictures of a bunch more people. Then, after school, my grandpa is going to pick us up and take us around town."

"Sounds like a plan."

---

"What you need to look out for is the stuff most people don't think of," Emma said. She and Mary Margaret were sitting on lawn chairs at a rickety table, huddled over some paperwork Emma had brought over to help with the shelter. Apparently, Mary Margaret's boyfriend Hank had brought the table, and was now working on some repairs. It amazed Emma how far they had come already, but David handled the budget distribution for the city, so cutting through the bureaucracy was probably easier than most of what she had dealt with in her career.

Not that she had opened a shelter during any point in her career either. Still, while she didn't know everything about starting a shelter, she had worked with some in the past, and she knew some of the basics about what they needed to run. The papers, she had printed out from the net, but they should give Mary Margaret some practical information.

"Stuff people don't think of? If they don't think of it, how will I?"

Emma leaned in to whisper, "Because you've been there. What did you need most, living here?"

Mary Margaret shrugged. "I mean, a place to sleep? Food?"

"What else?"

"This place pretty much just provided a place to sleep, and clothes if I was willing to steal something."

"Okay, let me put it this way, what would this place have provided if you'd been able to ask for stuff?"

"Like, if I rubbed that lamp over there and a genie came out?" Mary Margaret asked.

"Yeah. But think bigger than just three wishes."

Mary Margaret took a pen to her lips, thinking for a moment. "Well, a proper bed, of course. And sheets, blankets, pillowcases. That's a lot of laundry, which means a washing machine. Oh, and a place to shower! And shower supplies, soaps and such. And we'll need a kitchen, and a place for people to eat, of course, and someone to do the cooking and cleaning. And women shouldn't have to share rooms, so separate rooms, with locks?"

"That's all really good. What about recreation?"

"Well, I don't know if we can afford a tv for each room, but maybe one or two in common areas, and cable, and the internet. A couple of computers. Maybe a place to exercise, and a place to socialize. A pool would be nice. Oh, David will have a cow for sure. This is going to be so much more expensive – "

"It'll take a lot of people, which makes jobs. And the city doesn't have to pay for everything."

"How else would we pay for it?"

"Some things, clothes, sheets, even bath supplies, could be donated. People in small towns love that kind of thing. Maybe host an event or a drive or something?"

"We could have it here, to show people what they'll be building. And with the stage, a karaoke night? Oh, I used to love karaoke!" Mary Margaret looked around., "You know, looking at the space, I'm not sure this place is big enough for all those rooms."

"Well, have a contractor look at it. A professional, not just your boyfriend, no offense."

"None taken. And he's not my boyfriend. He's just my … we have fun."

Emma nodded. "Ah. Okay. Never had one of those myself, but I've seen movies. Good for you."

Mary Margaret nodded. "It's nice. Simple. I freaked out for a bit the other day about having this much … fun, and maybe getting myself in trouble, but I talked to my sister and she suggested I just a get a hysterectomy to rule that out so –"

Emma's eyes widened. "She said what?" she asked, sure she had heard wrong.

"That I could get a hysterectomy so I can't get pregnant. She even said she could get it set up for me; as mayor she has connections at the local hospital and –"

"Whoa, back up," Emma said, holding up her hand. "Why are you getting a hysterectomy? That's for people who are, G-d forbid, dying of cancer and need their uterus and ovaries removed. It's a huge procedure."

"It does the job, though. I don't want to get pregnant, not ever."

"You've never heard of birth control?"

"Pills and condoms don't always work. Selena says this is the only way to make sure I can never have kids."

"If you change your mind –"

"I'm not going to change my mind," Mary Margaret said tersely. "Look, I've never told anybody this, but I was pregnant once. In high school. I got an abortion. And I don't regret it, getting an abortion. It was the right choice. I'm not mother material. But it was hard, and I decided then and there that I never wanted to have one again, but I also never wanted to have kids. Raising a child, speaking in baby talk to some precious princess who I would have to make my whole world and give up on my own dreams for her? No thank you. But I know I can be a bit on the loose side, and I'm lucky that it hasn't happened again. I thank G-d every day that I'm not a mother."

Something in Emma's heart broke at those words. She didn't know why. It was a legitimate stance to take on motherhood, and she was totally pro-choice. Still, something about hearing Mary Margaret say she'd never wanted kids, that she was grateful to not be a mother, that she didn't have a daughter to raise, made Emma want to cry. She tried to shake it off and get back to the topic at hand.

"You don't have to have kids if you don't want, but there are other ways. Safer ways."

"Selena said it was perfectly safe."

Emma breathed out through gritted teeth. The more she learned about the town's mayor, the less she liked her. Mary Margaret wouldn't want to hear that, though.

"She might not know the details," Emma said, "It's major surgery, with all the risks of that. Plus, afterwards, assuming there are no complications, you've basically set off early menopause. I'm talking emotional and physical side effects for the rest of your life. It's not pleasant. Why not just … get your tubes tied?"

"Well, can't people still get pregnant sometimes?"

"It's incredibly rare, especially if you're not trying to get pregnant. Look, why don't I get you some literature on it. You can read up, make a more informed decision?"

Mary Margaret nodded. "Okay. I guess I could do that."

Emma breathed a sigh of relief, "Okay. Now, let's get back to talking about the shelter."

---

"No one would guess that they had not even buried the unlucky blacksmith, whose brain was eventually picked over by crows, and to whose carcass the tiger would return again and again, until he had learned something about the taste of man, and about the freshness of human meat, which was different now, in snow, than it had been in the heat of summer. " Neal closed the book and took a glance at the clock. "Well, that was the end of the chapter, and according to your daughter's schedule, it's time for you to have your pills. And maybe some food?"

"If I must," Sierra said.

Neal headed first to the cabinet to get the pills, and then to the refrigerator, where a container filled with orange goop was marked with the word 'lunch' and the date. He warmed up the goop and filled a glass with water.

When he returned, he expected to need to help Sierra to sit up; his instructions indicated as much. However, she seemed to have swung her legs around and sat herself up all on her own. He set the snack table in front of her and placed the glass of water on the table just as the microwave beeped. He came back with the container and a spoon. Then he counted out the pills and handed them to her. After she put them in her mouth, he handed her the glass of water.

Once she had taken her pills, he picked up the spoon, and scooped up the goop, aiming to bring it to her lips.

"I certainly hope you don't intend to feed me like a child," she said.

"Well, your daughter's instructions –"

"Bhah!" she said, as she gestured with her hand, as though she could sweep away the notion. "She sees me as helpless, wants me to rely on her completely. It's not entirely her fault; I've let her think that. I can't even remember how it started really. I lost my sight, and I needed help, and she helped. But I learned, and she kept assuming I would need the same amount of help that I did in the beginning, as if I hadn't had to figure out how to get around and live my life while she was off at work. It's been years now. She lives her life, and I can damn sure live mine."

"If you're sure," Neal said, putting the spoon in her hand. He had dealt with older patients who refused to accept help because they didn't want to admit they needed it. He'd also dealt with family members who tried to control their older family members. He supposed it was time to find out what sort of patient Sierra was.

He watched he feel for the bowl, judge the distance, and scoop a bit of the goop into her mouth. After she'd done it a handful of times, he relaxed.

"I guess she underestimated you," Neal said.

"You're just now realizing that? Oh, don't get me wrong, I do need some help. And it's nice to have company. I never venture out of this house, and I've been alone for a long time."

"Why not leave the house?" he asked.

"I don't know. Alana doesn't think I should and … I don't really want to either. For some reason I've always felt like going out into town would be too much for me to handle. I'm safer here."

Neal was surprised. What Sierra was saying now didn't line up with everything she'd said prior. He liked the old woman. She had a wry sense of humor that he could appreciate. She also had an independent and adventurous spirit. He would never have guessed that she was afraid to go outdoors.

"You know, it can be a little isolating, staying holed up here with nobody but your daughter to talk to," he said gently.

"Well, it's good you're here then, isn't it?"

---

"So, this is for a school project?" Ruby the waitress asked.

Henry and Paige both nodded and Ruby smiled, as Paige took the picture with her weird camera. He still thought it would be easier with a phone, but they'd gotten too many weird looks when he had tried.

At least now, they were out of school, which made it easier to claim this was for a school project. Plus, all the teachers at the school were super weird, with the tattoos hidden under their clothes and some of them had glass eyes. They might as well be … pirates!

Pirates! Of course! How had Henry not realized before? The principle was missing a hand, and now the rest of the teachers were pirates. That made her Captain Hook! It was so obvious that Henry could have smacked himself in the face.

"Well, that's everyone in the diner," Paige said. "Where to now?"

Henry shrugged. "You know the town better than we do," he motioned to himself and his grandfather, who had simply been watching them take pictures with an amused twinkle in his eye.

"Well, there is the Rabbit Hole. It's this bar that – "

"Perhaps I should take the pictures in that case," his grandfather said. "I doubt the proprietor would smile on a child being in such a place."

"I'm there all the time," Paige said casually.

"Is that a fact?"

Paige nodded. "Anyway, what would you say? You're a little too old to be in school; and kids can get away with more. Everybody underestimates us."

"People tend to underestimate a man with a cane as well," his grandfather said. "Though I'll grant you, not in the same way. I could, however, use Henry's camera phone. As you've said, nobody here is familiar with it, so I could surreptitiously take pictures without their notice."

"Won't the angles be bad?" Henry asked.

"They will be, but it may be the preferred option."

"The preferred option," Paige said, emphasizing the words his grandfather had used, "is to let me handle it. This is my town. I know how it works, and nobody will mind me being there."

"Were I to believe you, it wouldn't change the fact that Henry's parents would mind my taking him to a bar."

"Fine. Then let me go, and I'll meet you somewhere later."

"I don't think we should split up –" Henry started to say.

"Well, since you need a babysitter everywhere you go –"

"I don't! And anyway, my grandfather is as much a part of this as either of us."

"I don't see how. I'm cursed, and you're the Savior's son with the magic book. What is he? He isn't even from The Enchanted Forest. He could walk away from all of this."

"He's my grandfather!"

"The girl is right," his grandfather said. "My role in this is different than yours, Henry. We all have different parts to play, which is why we've split up the work. I'm loath to bring you into such a place, but I can scarcely leave you alone, and while I don't much like the idea of Paige in such a place either, she is my responsibility for the afternoon. If she's determined to enter the Rabbit Hole with or without us, it will have to be with us."

"I don't need a babysitter," Paige spat.

"Perhaps not. But for whatever reason, you've chosen to include me in this mission, and I cannot in good conscience leave a child to her own devices in such a place."

"I'm not a child."

"Who is it that gave you such a notion?" his grandfather asked. "And why should it be a bad thing, for that matter? Henry is a child. He's smart, resourceful, and full of belief. It's that very belief that has brought us thus far. Were he not a child, I doubt any of us would know of this curse, let alone believe in it. I doubt you would believe in it, if you were not a child as well.

"Being a child does not mean you lack skill or intellect, and at times it may mean that you have more than those who are older than you. It's a wonderful thing to be a child, unless, of course, someone has an unhappy childhood. If one is unhappy, if one is being mistreated, one often wants to be other than what they are. So, I ask you, why are you unhappy to be a child? Who is it that is mistreating you? Is it, perhaps, the same person who allows you to go to bars on your own?"

Paige looked down. "I'm cursed," she said, not meeting his eyes. "Of course I'm unhappy. It doesn't matter anyway. Come on, let's go."

---

Dorothy couldn't sleep. It wasn't that she was sleeping on the ground; she had grown used to it over the past year or so since she and Auntie Em had been on the run.

It wasn't that her belly was empty either; Dorothy had snuck onto a farm earlier that day and pilfered fresh eggs—which they had cooked up quickly—as well as small jars of fresh juice—which they had drunk down. Of course, she had also gotten dried and salted meat—which would last a bit longer—nuts, dried fruits and vegetables, preserves, barley and wheat. Her belly was full, or as full as she could stomach these days. She'd learned the hard way not to eat too much when they were lucky enough to get a large haul; that one time she'd seen her stomach's contents on the ground not soon after eating it. What a waste.

Dorothy had grown accustomed enough to life on the road. They'd even added one to their company; a dog that Auntie Em had found wandering about while Dorothy had been retrieving food. Auntie Em said they couldn't keep him, couldn't afford another mouth to feed, but Dorothy had reminded her that that was exactly what those farms who wanted to hire Dorothy as a hired girl had said about her. All the little dog really needed was someone to love him, and Dorothy was more than willing. In the end, Auntie Em had agreed.

The dog, whom Dorothy had christened Toto, was sound asleep beside Dorothy now and, as she stroked him, she thought how she envied dogs their ability to sleep so easily. It wasn't her only thought, though. It wasn't the thought that had been keeping her awake these past few nights, or, on and off for a year or more, if she was being honest.

"Auntie Em?" she asked. "Auntie Em, are you sleeping?"

"Whatever are you doing awake, child?" Auntie Em asked.

"Auntie Em," Dorothy said, gathering her courage, "I need to ask you about something."

Auntie Em sat up and turned to face Dorothy, who sat as well, "Go on then, m'girl. We'll hardly get a moment's sleep if you don't ask what's on your mind."

Dorothy took a deep breath, steeling herself. "That day, when I returned from Oz … the day before we ran … mother said something peculiar about my having been found, about my having been left on a doorstep. What was she talking about?"

Auntie Em let out a long breath. "Are you certain you want to know? Knowledge, once gained, isn't easily forgotten."

"I've thought on it for some time now, and yes, I want … I need to know. What did she mean by it?"

"When I was younger, not young, mind, but younger than I am now, I was swept up, not unlike how you were. It wasn't a storm exactly, it was more … well, that's not important. What matters is, I wound up in Oz. And I didn't meet no wizards, but I had my own adventure trying to get back to my family. I even made friends with a fairy queen, if you can believe it. She was … something to behold. And married to the king of Oz too, which isn't too shabby, if you ask me.

And then, well, things changed. There was a war in Oz. King Pastoria was killed. His wife, Fairy Queen Lurline, she needed to defend the kingdom, help her people, but she knew I was headed out of Oz, and she wanted to make sure that the most precious thing in her possession went with me, somewhere it would be safe. So, she gave me something, and made me promise to look after it. She gave me her baby. She gave me … you."

Dorothy gasped.

"When I returned to Kansas," Auntie Em continued, "not even a full day had passed, and my sister hardly thought anything of my absence. She was mighty curious where I had gotten a baby, mind. Well, I could hardly tell her the truth, much as I wanted to. I knew she would chuck me away in a madhouse. So, I told her I'd found you out in the barn, that you had been left there and had no one to take care of you."

"My sister was far from perfect, but she wasn't going to chuck a baby in the street. I would have kept you myself, but I was unwed, and Annie was married. It looked better, you see, for her to have a baby, even if none knew how you had come so quick in the night without her showing signs before. And they were happy enough to have a child. I insisted on sticking around to help look after you. I had made a promise, you see."

Dorothy starred at Auntie Em for a long time. She could feel questions in her mind, but there was so many whirling so fast that she couldn't make out quite what they were, let alone voice them.

"I can see that you're in shock," Auntie Em said. "I can hardly blame you for that. And I'll not ask you to forgive those who raised you for being willing to chuck you out. There is no excuse for that. I haven't forgiven Annie, much as I love her. But know this. You are my family, and I love you. You have been my family since I first saw you crawling across the barnyard floor, and you will be my family as long as there is breath in my lungs, and even after that."

"So, you didn't just keep me because you promised?" Dorothy asked, her voice small.

Auntie Em drew her close and hugged her. "Dear girl, no. I wanted you. I love you."

"I love you too, Auntie Em," Dorothy said. "But I feel so confused. You're saying I'm a princess? And a fairy?"

"Well, I don't know how that all works. Politics was never a skill of mine, and lord knows what's changed in Oz since I was there. All that matters now is that you are Dorothy. My Dorothy. You will always be my Dorothy."

"It's not my real name, is it? What did my … what did the king and queen name me?"

"Well, it had the word Oz in it," Auntie Em said. "Ozma, I think? It was a long time ago. It was too strange a name for you to have in Kansas, and at any rate, Annie and John had their hearts set on Dorothy. What was I to tell them?"

"Should I be Ozma now?"

"Well, as for the name, that's your choice. As for who you are, it's who you've always been, a bright, creative, brave, kind girl whom I love very much."

Auntie Em kept repeating the fact that she loved her. Dorothy wasn't quite sure why, but she was grateful. All this new information was making her feel like her brain would explode. It was as though something heavy was pushing her down, and knowing she was loved made it easier somehow.

"I'd like to be Dorothy, I think," Dorothy said. "I think I would be too confused if I had to be someone else."

"Then you shall be Dorothy. Now, get some sleep," Auntie Em, kissing her on forehead.

Dorothy went to lie back down, and Auntie Em helped her to put the blanket back over herself. Somehow, Auntie Em seemed to know that Dorothy's mind wouldn't let her sleep, because she began to sing a lullaby. Dorothy focused on the words and the sounds of her aunt's voice. How lucky was she? Not for being, perhaps, a princess of a fairy, but for having someone like Auntie Em, who would always love her just as she was.

---

Mary Margaret was surprised when her sister called her over in the afternoon. They didn't often see each other twice in one day. Maybe that was something she should correct; they'd used to be so close. Selena's marrying David had made Mary Margaret want to be around her less, but he was being more amiable these days. Perhaps things were changing.

"I'm so glad you could make it," Selena said, ushering Mary Margaret into her office. "I've called Dr. Drake, and she says they can see you today to go over the procedure. You'll have to do some preparation, but there's no reason we can't have this handled by the end of the week."

"Actually," Mary Margaret said, "I'm considering other options."

Selena looked at her, her eyebrows up high. "What? But I thought we discussed it and decided this was the best option?"

Mary Margaret nodded, "We did, but then I talked to Emma and – "

"Emma? The new woman in town? You go to her with something so personal and private?"

"It just sort of came up. Anyway, she made some good points. She said that she could get me some material on what sorts of procedures might be safer, and then I could make an informed decision."

"Come now, we both know you're not smart enough for that," Selena said.

"Selena! I'm plenty smart."

"Oh yes, plenty. Well, far be it for me, a college-educated person who was unanimously elected mayor by her peers, to assume to be a doctor, but my friend Dr. Drake actually is, and she saw no problem with your having the procedure when I suggested it."

"Well, once I've done my research, maybe I'll circle back around. Don't you think I should make informed choices, though? Isn't that the responsible thing to do?"

Selena shook her head. "I don't know how to feel about this. You come to me for help, I provide it, and then you go off to this new friend, and suddenly you're listening to her over me. What, is she your new sister?"

Mary Margaret put her hand on Selena's. "Of course not. You're my sister. This isn't about you, or Emma. It's about me. It's time I grew up and learned to take care of myself. This is a part of that."

"Well, you just do that then, why don't you?" her sister snarled, "Get out of my office."

"Selena – "

"Out. Go cry to your new sister."

Sighing, Mary Margaret headed out of the office, wondering what she could do to make things right.

---

Aria wasn't expecting anyone to check in on her during the day. People rarely checked in on her, even since her "attack." She forgot to account for the Emma Swan factor.

"Emma, how nice to see you," Aria said, mostly meaning it. She liked Emma, and she appreciated that Emma had tried to help her.

However, she was also wary. After all, Emma clearly suspected the truth about Jack. What was more, Emma wanted her to step forward, accuse her husband, and change her life. It was a scary prospect, especially since she'd made her truce with Jack. Was it a truce? Well, whatever it was, it had him keeping his distance recently. She didn't want to ruin it. She didn't want him to hurt her again.

"I just wanted to check on your recovery," Emma said. "How are you doing?"

"Better," Aria said, "I'm healing, and I haven't had any more, uh, that is – "

"Nobody has hit you since?" Emma filled in.

Aria nodded. "Things have actually been rather quiet, which is good. I do miss talking to your son, though. How is he?" While Aria's feelings about Emma were mixed, she had no such qualms with Henry.

"He's good. Just started at the local school. Seems to have made a friend." Emma was quiet for a minute, seemingly lost in thought. Then, she appeared to snap out of it. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," Aria said, hoping they weren't circling back around to her husband.

"What do you make of the mayor?"

That took Aria aback. "Um, she's fine, I suppose."

"You're husband works with her, right? You've mentioned he … um, admires her."

Aria nodded. "He does. But as far as I can tell, the … admiration isn't mutual. She's never done anything to encourage it. I doubt she even notices."

"I guess it's good that you blame him instead of her, from a feminist perspective, at least," Emma said. "It's just … I guess what I should have asked is, other than your husband, do you feel like the people in this town seem to, I don't know, admire the mayor too much?"

"I don't know what you mean," Aria said, and it was the truth. She had no clue what Emma was hinting at.

"It just seems kind of like everyone is pretty sold on her, even when, maybe, they shouldn't be. Like they can't imagine her ever doing anything wrong."

"She got elected for a reason. People trust her."

"Do you?"

"I … I suppose so. I maybe might have a held a grudge, but as you said, given the circumstances, that isn't really fair of me. She's never done anything bad to anyone."

Emma nodded. "I'm probably just being paranoid. Anyway, I brought some takeout, if you're up for it."

For the first time, Aria noticed the Granny's bag in Emma's hands.

"Why not? It's not like I have anything else to do."

Emma nodded, and the two settled down to eat.

---

School had only been out and hour or so, and it wasn't uncommon for Jamie to stay late. A principal's work was never done. She was reviewing some papers, when she heard a knock on her door. She was surprised to find Sheriff Graham on the other side when she opened it.

"Mind if I come in?" he asked, smiling sheepishly.

Jamie shook her head. "I was just finishing up for the day." She put her papers aside and asked, "What can I do for you sheriff?"

"I wanted to ask you about the new man in town, Neal Stiltskin."

That brought Jamie up short. "Why ask me?"

"It's been noticed that he might have taken particular interest in you."

Jamie nodded. "I see. Well, I suppose that's true."

"Care to describe the nature of your relationship?"

Jamie shrugged. "I wouldn't say we have a relationship. He's … lonely, I think. Lost his mum young, from what I can tell. Says I remind him of her."

"I see."

"I can tell what you're about sheriff, and I can't speak to Neal's character, though he seems harmless enough, but for myself, I hope you'll believe me when I say I'm not a home-wrecker."

Graham nodded, but Jamie could tell he didn't believe her. It rankled her that he would think so low of her, but there was little she could do about it. Protesting would simply make him think she had something to hide. In any case, wrong as it was, adultery wasn't an actual crime.

"If you don't mind my asking, Sheriff, what is your interest in this?"

Graham avoided her gaze. "I just want to make sure that these newcomers aren't going to make things worse in this town."

"So you're nervous about them. Neal and Emma."

"I have no problem with Emma," Graham said, a tender smile on his lips. "She seems like a fine woman."

Ah. So that was what his interest was. Well, if he wanted to break up a marriage, that was no more her business than her quasi-friendship with Neal was his. Still, she had a feeling it might be harder than he thought.

"Is that all, Sheriff? I was hoping to get a drink at the Rabbit Hole before it was too late."

"You drink on school nights?"

It was a good question. None of his business, but a good question. Truthfully, Jamie had never been the drinking sort, especially on school nights. Lately though, she'd felt a bit of a craving for the stuff. Idly, she wondered where that came from.

"I can hold my rum, Sheriff. I won't drive drunk, and I won't run this school hungover."

Graham nodded, "Well, that's what matters. Listen, if anything about Mr. Stiltskin comes to mind, if he bothers you or makes you uneasy, or if you notice something off about him, I'd appreciate it if you came to the station and let me know."

That surprised her. Maybe he was here about more than just pursuing Neal's wife.

"Are you trying to say that you think he's dangerous?" Graham didn't answer. "Is there something you think he's done?"

"Right now I'm just exploring all options. Keep an eye on him. And be careful." Without another word, Graham left.

Well, now Jamie definitely needed a drink.

---

Sierra had gone down for a nap shortly before Dr. Drake returned, which gave Neal the perfect opportunity to talk to her privately.

"She seems to be in one piece," Dr. Drake said.

"Yeah. She's doing well," Neal said. "I do think it might be good for her to get out a bit though."

"I beg your pardon?" Dr. Drake asked coolly.

"I just … I've worked with older people before, you saw my resume, and keeping them active and social is super important to their mental health. And their mental health is important to their physical health."

Dr. Drake nodded thoughtfully. "And an exercise regimen could be warranted. Perhaps I'll purchase some equipment, and you can set it up in her room."

"Or, crazy idea, how about her walking around outside? We can work up to her going into town and talking to people, but to start out, some fresh air would be – "

"No."

"No?"

"No. She is not to go outside. She is not to go into town. I won't budge on this issue, so you needn't waste your time with an argument."

"But … why not?"

"It isn't safe for her."

"It's as safe for her as it is for anyone else. She's more capable than you think, and I'll look out for her. She needs to talk to people."

"She does. She talks to me. Now, she talks to you. That's enough."

"It's really not."

"Did she show interest in this idea when you brought it up, or did she tell you that she had no interest in going into town?"

"Actually, she said she was scared to leave this house, and I can't help but think that that comes from you. And maybe it's well meant, but it's not good for her."

"Yet, she made her feelings clear."

"I think I could talk her around."

"Even if you could, I wouldn't allow it. You don't work for her. You work for me. This is how I want things, and if you refuse to abide by my rules, you'll find yourself without a job, and she'll find herself without a caretaker."

Neal shook his head. "I just don't buy that this is best for her. And I may work for you, but I take my job as a nurse seriously. I'm not comfortable doing something that goes against what's best for her health."

"And you know what is best for her health after spending a day with her. I see. Well, I did read your resume, Mr. Stiltskin, and it is both impressive and expensive.

"However, as you may have noticed, Storybrooke is not an ordinary town; we do things a tad differently here. Trust me when I say that keeping my mother indoors and away from town is what is best for everyone involved. Someday, you may find yourself grateful."

Neal just stared at her. "What are you saying?"

"I'm growing weary of repeating myself. Follow my rules and you will have an invaluable ally. Ignore them, you and my mother will both suffer consequences beyond your comprehension. Now, if you would be so kind as to take your leave, I'd like some time alone with my mother. If you return tomorrow, I will assume you've taken what I've said to heart, and that you will do as I say going forward. Good night."

---

Rumpelstiltskin already regretted agreeing to take Paige and Henry into the bar. He'd instructed Henry to stay close (and to keep this excursion from both of his parents), and Henry seemed to be complying, but Paige hadn't stuck by his side for a minute. She was making her way through the place in the manner of one who had done so many times before.

He glanced around the place, spotting her uncle at the bar. That made sense. Well, at least the man was making an honest day's pay, instead of drinking away his troubles. Still, he should know better than to let his charge come to such a place.

"That's the principal," Henry said in a whisper, pointing at the woman at the bar. For a minute, Rumpelstiltskin was taken back in time as he watched the woman, who looked remarkably like Milah, throw back a shot.

Milah, his wife, used to frequent such places when they were married. He would often have to go inside to drag her home, while leaving Bae waiting just outside. It still made his blood boil, thinking of it. He couldn't fault Milah for not wanting to be stuck at home with a child now, not after having lived in this modern era for so long and meeting women such as his daughter-in-law. In truth, had Milah chosen to spend her time working, he would happily have looked after Baelfire himself. However, for her to agree to stay home with their son, only to leave Bae on his own when she only four years old, while she had gone out to drink and flirt with pirates was inexcusable.

She had run off with such a pirate. At the time, Rumpelstiltskin had been led to believe that she was kidnapped and had felt wretched that he couldn't protect her.

Later, as the Dark One, he had met a girl whom he had taken for a figment of his curse, despite her being far too kind to be a part of something so dark. When he had told her of Milah and what had befallen her, she had encouraged him to try to find her. "Perhaps she survived," Belle had said. "Perhaps she's still waiting for you to rescue her. you'll never know if you don't look."

So, he had looked, and he had discovered that Milah was living happily as a pirate, in love with the cruel Captain who had once mocked him for being unable to defend her. He had wanted to seek vengeance, but as had become his habit, he sought Belle's counsel, and she had calmed him down enough that he had agreed to let the matter be. After all, they were hardly hurting him, far off living out their adventures, and he had Bae, and Belle's voice in his head. Should they ever return, he would take his revenge, but as things stood, it would take a great deal of effort, and it wouldn't make him feel any better. He had let the matter drop, and then he had gone with Bae through a portal, never to return to the Enchanted Forest.

Now, he watched the woman, who had to be the daughter of Milah and the cruel Captain Jones of the Jolly Roger. He didn't want to hate her; he knew better than most how unfair it was to be judged for who your parents were, and while Captain Jones was a villain if ever a villain there was, his own father was far worse. Perhaps the girl was nothing like her parents. He had trouble imagining Milah having another child. How, then, could she have sailed the seas, pillaging and plundering with her pirate lover? Jamie P. Jones, as he recalled was her name, might have been abandoned by her parents as surely as Bae had been. He should treat her with kindness. He could, if Bae persisted in pursuing a friendship with his long-lost sibling. As it stood, however, he simply saw the likeness of Milah sat in a bar, drinking away the night.

One the other side of the bar, he saw a child far too young to be in a bar take pictures of the patrons without a thought as to where she was; a child who didn't want to be a child, and who was being looked after someone who perhaps did not want to be a parent. He would have to keep an eye on the young Paige. She might need more from him than he had realized only yesterday.

"Finished," she said, approaching them. "We can go."

"That's your uncle, correct?" Rumpelstiltskin asked her.

The girl nodded. "He works here."

"Did you get his picture?" Henry asked.

Paige looked away. "I'll get it later. At home. Whatever. Let's just go."

Perhaps her guardian didn't know she was here? Then again, how could he not, if she frequented the place as often as she claimed? Perhaps, like Milah, he simply did not care enough for one in his charge to make sure that she stayed away from such a place.

"It smelled funny in there," Henry said as they made their way into the open air once more.

"It smelled like smoke and booze," Paige said, as though it should have been obvious, "It's a bar."

"I didn't like it," Henry said. "Or the way some of the adults were acting."

"G-d, how sheltered are you?" Paige asked.

"He is much loved," Rumpelstiltskin said. "Paige, if I may ask, are you often unsupervised?"

"I don't need a babysitter," Paige said. "And anyway, this town is cursed, so what does it matter? Anything that happens to me will happen if the Wicked Witch wants it to."

"All the more reason to cautious, then. To stick to adults who can look after you."

"All the adults I know can't even look after themselves."

Rumpelstiltskin shook his head. "That's a pity."

"Yeah. Whatever. Anyway, we should go around town more, take more pictures." She walked a few paces, then turned back to face them. "Coming?"

---

"Slow down, Dorothy, girl," Auntie Em said. "I need a minute's rest before we get going again."

"We can't be here when those in the house wake up," Dorothy said, swiftly chucking what she could carry in her sack and heading for the barn door.

Dorothy preferred to be in and out on her own. She was quick and efficient at this point. Auntie Em on the other hand … Well, she hadn't been young when they set off years ago, and she just kept getting older. She was a trooper when she could be, but she spoke of aching joints and needing to rest more often than not these days. It made more sense if she stayed behind.

Despite that, Dorothy knew Auntie Em still saw her as that scared little girl who needed looking after. That was why she sometimes insisted on coming along and helping. She didn't want Dorothy taking this risk on her own.

Dorothy wanted to refuse her, but how could she? She couldn't be like those people on the farms, who wanted to put Auntie Em out to pasture. If Auntie Em wanted to come, she would come.

Toto barked, and Dorothy went to shush him, but he continued to make a ruckus. He would alert the whole house! Or else, someone was already coming, and that was why he was barking.

"We need to move," Dorothy said, pulling Auntie Em up. As they made for the back way out of the barn, they heard a man holler after them, "Git back here! Thieves! Thieves!"

Dorothy tried to hurry Auntie Em along. "We can't rest now. We have to get to the bike. It's just a little way."

She felt Auntie Em squeeze her hand as she trudged slowly behind her.

The man was still hollering, though Dorothy didn't pay attention to what he was saying. Then she heard him cock a gun. Two shots rang out.

"Come on," she urged again, pulling Em along.

After what felt an eternity, they made it to the bike. Dorothy saw that Auntie Em was struggling to get on, so she hefted her up and began peddling as Toto ran alongside them. She could hear Em breathing heavily behind her, but after a bit, Auntie Em's breathing started to calm down. It slowed, and Dorothy breathed a sigh of relief.

She meant to peddle well into the morning, but after they'd gone some distance from the farm, the road curved, and Dorothy had to make a sharp turn. As she did, Auntie Em fell backwards off the bike. Dorothy skidded to a stop and jumped off to check on her aunt.

"Are you all right?" Dorothy asked, as she made to help Auntie Em up off the ground. Auntie Em didn't answer. She hadn't screamed when she'd toppled either, which was peculiar, and now she was just lying on the ground,. her eyes were wide open, something off in her gaze. She wasn't looking at Dorothy. She didn't seem to be looking anywhere..

"Auntie Em?" Dorothy asked, a tightness in her chest.

That's when she saw the blood that was dripping from Auntie Em's petticoats.

"Auntie Em!" She ran toward her. Auntie Em didn't react to her touch. It took Dorothy a minute or two to find the wound, a round hole in Auntie Em's back. The shotgun she had heard!

Why hadn't Auntie Em said anything? If Dorothy had known she'd been shot … but what could she have done. She knew nothing for how to treat wounds, nor how to find someone who did. And it wasn't as though she could have slowed down; then they'd both have been shot, and perhaps Toto too.

Still, she should have known, should have felt something, shouldn't have peddled so hard for so long. If she had stopped when she could still hear Auntie Em breathing heavily then maybe …

Dorothy felt the tears on her cheeks. "Auntie Em, please get up. Please, open your eyes. I still need you. You said you would stay with me as long as I needed you."

Auntie Em didn't move; she just kept staring blankly at nothing.

Dorothy heaved a sob. How could she have let this happen? How could she have brought Auntie Em into this life of crime, of living on the side of the road and risking her neck for a few scraps of meat and a swallow of milk? Auntie Em should be back at home. She never should have run off with Dorothy in the first place.

"I killed a witch," Dorothy said. No matter how much time had passed, she had neverrforgotten, never forgotten her own sanity, "I killed someone, and I should have been punished, sent to a madhouse. Now because of me, someone else is … "

She couldn't say it. She knew the word, knew what Auntie Em was, but she couldn't say it. Saying it would make it true. She held the old woman close, burying her face in Auntie Em's bosom, but for the first time she could remember, no hand came up to stroke her hair. No one whispered words of love and promises that all would be right.

Auntie Em was gone.

---

Mary Margaret was trying to keep in good spirits. She hated fighting with her sister. She knew Emma meant well, and she would read those pamphlets, but there had to be something she could do to fix things with Selena.

She shot off a text to Emma to explain what happened and ask if, maybe, Emma could talk to her sister, to smooth things over. Then she went back to work.

"Hey, you okay?" David asked her.

Mary Margaret nodded. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you're crying."

Mary Margaret put her hand to her face. Her cheeks were wet. "So I am. Well, I promise, it's nothing."

"Okay. Um, if you're sure."

"David, we're working together, and so far, we haven't killed each other. I'm grateful for the job, and your taking my input. But let's not pretend we'll ever be friends."

"Yeah. I guess if we try too hard, we'll just end up killing each other."

Mary Margaret laughed. "Exactly."

---

Zelena was just packing up for the day when the door to her office burst open, and in walked Emma Stilskin. For someone Zelena hadn't interacted with since that dinner, she looked surprisingly furious.

"Do you have an appointment?" Zelena asked.

"I'm not here to talk to the mayor of Storybrooke. I'm here to talk to my friend's sister."

"This is about Mary Margaret. Is she alright?" Zelena asked, feigning compassion.

"Not so much. Apparently, she asked her sister for advice on more intense birth control, and her sister recommended a procedure meant for people with a serious illness."

"Poor dear. Well, I only had her best interests at heart, of course."

"Let's say I believe that. It's not in her best interest to get a hysterectomy unless she has, like, cancer or something."

"And what do you mean by, and I quote, 'let's say I believe that?' Why wouldn't I have her best interests at heart? She is my sister and I love her."

Zelena noticed Mrs. Stiltskin clench her fists and then put them behind her back.

After a moment Mrs. Stiltskin said, "Honestly, I don't know. But I get the feeling that you maybe aren't as perfect and altruistic as this town seems to think. And hey, it's your town. I'm not going to tell you how to run it. But I am going to tell you to stop messing with my friend's head."

"You have no right to tell me how to talk to my sister."

"You told her to do something mega dangerous when it wasn't necessary. And then you got mad at her for looking for advice elsewhere. That sounds like emotional manipulation to me."

"I didn't get mad. I was simply concerned for her."

"Because she talked to me."

"How is that different then your being concerned that I talked to her? Oh wait, I know how it's different. I'm her sister, and you're a woman who showed up in my town yesterday to make trouble."

"No, it's different because I'm trying to help, while you're giving her crap advice, and I think you knew that when you gave it to her."

"I want her to be happy. Is that a crime now, wanting one's sister to be happy?"

"The more you talk, the more certain I become that her best interests are the opposite of what you want for her. What's your problem? She's your sister. Why does it make you so happy to see her so miserable?"

"How dare you! I'm calling security. Frankly, I'm not sure how you got in here to begin with."

Mrs. Stiltskin shrugged. "Nobody was manning the front desk, so I figured I'd see myself in."

Where was her love-sick lackey? He'd been less focused on his work the past couple of days; she should look into that. Right now, however, she was too enraged. The gall of this girl!

"Well, you can see yourself out, unless you'd like to deal with the sheriff."

Mrs. Stiltskin threw her hands up in surrender. "I'm leaving. But just so we're clear, I'm going to keep looking out for Mary Margaret. If you keep messing with her, if you hurt her, I will make noise about it. And you don't want me making noise. Something tells me there's more going on in this town than the people here realize, and they may be blind to your faults, but I'm not. You have no idea what I'm capable of."

Zelena seethed as she watched this newcomer leave her office.

How dared she? What right did this woman have to meddle in her affairs, her curse? Since that woman had arrived, her simpering faux sister had gained a friend, a brain, and a backbone. Things were changing, time was moving, and Snow White might become happy.

It no longer mattered who she was or how Emma Stiltskin had got here. Zelena wanted her gone, and she knew just how to make that happen.

---

Neal wasn't thrilled with how his day had gone. He liked Sierra, but now there was an ethical dilemma that he had no clue how to deal with.

As he made his way home, he was waylaid by Sheriff Humboldt. "A word, if I may."

Neal shook his head. "I'd rather not, dude. It's been a complicated day, and I'm not in the mood."

"Well, I suppose we could talk at the station, then."

"Excuse me?" Neal asked, gaping.

"Or you could let me buy you a drink."

Neal wasn't really sure what this was about, but getting on the sheriff's bad side might not be the best idea. What could one drink hurt?

He texted Emma and then followed Graham to a joint called the Rabbit Hole. The place was pretty busy, but Graham was able to grab them a seat in one of the corners.

"Beer?" he asked. Neal nodded, and Graham went to grab them two beers from the bar. While he was waiting, Neal sent a text off to Emma that he was grabbing a drink, and he might be home a little late. He didn't want her waiting up for him like last night.

Graham came back to the table and handed him a mug. Each of them took a swallow, and then Graham cut to the chase. "So, Neal, you want to tell me why you've been seen stalking at least two women in this town?"

Neal didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it hadn't been that., "Why I've … what are you talking about?"

"Jamie Jones and Stella Gorham."

"Stella Gorham? I've never even met – "

"She's Dr. Drake's assistant."

Dr. Drake's assistant. Rheul Ghorm. Neal took a swig of his beer.

"A source told me you accosted her when you first arrived in our fair town."

"That was … a misunderstanding." Neal said. "And Jamie and I are cool. You can ask her."

"I shall."

Neal nodded. "So, am I being charged with something or can I go home to my wife and son?"

"We're just drinking here," Graham said.

"Really? Because it seems to me like you're accusing me of something. Now, I've got nothing to hide, but I don't like having my time wasted. So, if you'll excuse me," Neal plopped his empty drink down on the table, put a few dollars down, and made his way out of the bar.

The nerve of that guy! What was his problem? Okay, so Neal might not have behaved perfectly when he'd first got to town, but he had good reasons for that … reasons he could hardly tell the sheriff. Nothing to hide, indeed.

Neal's vision was starting to swim a little. It was a good thing he had been walking home, because that beer was starting to hit him. Actually, it was hitting way more than one beer should have. Maybe it's magic beer, he thought, and it was his last coherent thought before everything went black.

---

"Good job, doll," Zelena said into the sheriff's heart. "Now, take him somewhere out of the way, the woods maybe. Make sure you aren't seen. Stay with the body and await further instructions. A friend will be coming to join you soon."

She put Graham's heart back in its box, and searched through her collection until she found a box with a rather large J on it. "All right knave," she said, once she'd taken the heart out of the box. "Listen carefully. I have a job for you."

---

It had taken hours to dig the hole, but Dorothy didn't care. She was hardly going to let Auntie Em's body rot on the side of the road. Now, looking at the mound of dirt, knowing Auntie Em's body lay beneath it, she felt hollow. She wanted to place a stone or something to mark the spot, but how would she get such a thing? Better to leave it as it was. She wished she knew what to say, but she was no preacher.

Toto sniffed at the hole and then butted his head against Dorothy's leg. "We're on our own now, boy," Dorothy said. "Sometimes I … sometimes I think I shouldn't have come back from Oz. After all, what do I have here? Everything I've ever had is buried right there in the ground now." Toto cocked his head to the side and whined. "Yes, I suppose I do have you."

Toto turned and headed for Dorothy's satchel. "Toto, that food's for later," she admonished, but she knew she would have to stop him. Dogs didn't understand rationing.

Except Toto didn't pull out food; he pulled out her slippers, the ones that had brought her from Oz to Kansas so long ago. "Are you trying to tell me something, Toto?" she asked.

Toto dropped the slippers at her feet, barking insistently. "Well, I suppose there's no reason not to, now. I just hope I can take you with me."

She put on the shoes, placed Toto in the bicycle's basket, and sat on the bike. Then she closed her eyes, clicked her heels three times and thought of Oz.

---

Rosie was having a surprisingly good time. She couldn't say why. Her mother and sister still hadn't come to see her, and even Sean hadn't been by in a while. It couldn't be this ridiculous man who had been visiting her for the past couple of days. He was so beneath her, so clumsy and ridiculous. But he was funny. And he made her laugh.

"So, this next bit is where things get messy. Because he's got them all worked up, right, but when they get to the cave, what hops on out is the tiniest, most harmless little rabbit you could ever think to see, all white and fluffy, and the knights are thinking, this ain't no big deal, I can handle it. But then when one of the knights goes after it, it flies at him, taking his head off."

"That's horrid!"

"No, it's funny. Because it's a rabbit, see. It's a little bitty rabbit, but it's a vicious killer, and these grown men can barely stand up to it. They're all peeing themselves in their armor, traumatized from seeing it kill their mates."

"You have a rather dark sense of humor, don't you?"

"Says the lady who threw an ax at me head."

"Well, I was playing a role. In truth, I'd make a terrible queen."

"Eh, you'd be all right, I think."

"Why do you keep coming to visit me?"

Jack shrugged, "Like your company, I guess. And I was hopin' you might like mine too."

"Well, it's better than a murderous rabbit at any rate."

Jack smiled. Then, his face changed, going almost blank, "Jack? Are you all right?"

"I have to go," he said, getting up and leaving her room rather robotically without a backwards glance.

Well, that was strange. And why did she get the feeling she'd seen him do that once before? Why did it make her heart ache?

---

Stella was walking home from work when someone grabbed her from behind. She tried to kick out, but it did no good.

Before she could so much as scream, she was thrown to the floor and kicked repeatedly until she began to lose consciousness.

Just before she blacked out, she caught a glimpse of her assailant. If only she could have seen his face. Alas, it was covered by a gray hoodie.

---

Maleficent stormed into Zelena's office, furious, "Why did you have one of my fairies attacked?" she asked.

She had been surprised to get the call from Sheriff Graham. He had found the body and brought the blue gnat to the hospital. As her employer, Mal was the emergency contact.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Zelena said.

"Cut the crap, Zelena. We both know this is your town, and nothing happens here unless you want it to."

"I'm sorry, did you have a problem with something happening to her? I thought you might enjoy seeing the fairy so badly beaten."

"She's one of mine," Mal said through her teeth.

"Perhaps, but you're not one of hers. Regardless of what this realm's tales of you say, you're not a fairy, dear. We both know what you are."

"Yes. But you gave me the fairies to rule here, and if you plan to take one away from me, I'd like some warning. More than that, I'd like to know why."

"Calm down. She isn't dead. She'll recover well enough. After all, we have very talented doctors and nurses here in Storybrooke."

"Then why have her attacked?"

"I have my reasons. You don't tell me all of your plans, do you? Now, if that's all, I'd like to get home to my husband."

---

When she opened her eyes, Dorothy found herself in an unfamiliar desert. Her bicycle was beneath her, and Toto was in the basket, for which she was grateful. Still, why was she in a desert? Was there a desert in Oz?

It wasn't humid, as a desert ought to be. Instead, she found herself alone on an empty, featureless plain, and she could see nothing for miles. She rode her bike for a bit, but she found nobody. Just as she was about to give up, she saw someone approaching.

"Lacosta?" she cried, relieved to see one of the kind witches who had once helped her get home.

"Dorothy! I'm so glad to see you again."

"Where is everyone? What happened here?"

Lacosta shook her head. "Much has changed in Oz since you have been away. The Wicked Witch returned, and she has laid waste to this land, killing many and enslaving others."

"Where is she?"

"She has gone to a land known as Misthaven, or the Enchanted Forest. She has an army now, made up of her slaves, and she intends to wage war."

"We have to stop her."

"There is no way. Those of us left must simply be grateful that she left us alive, so we can rebuild."

"No! Glinda told me I was destined to defeat her, and Auntie Em told me I was born here to King Pastoria and Fairy Queen Lurline! I can't just sit back while – "

"You're the lost Princess Ozma?"

Dorothy nodded. "But I prefer Dorothy."

Lacosta smiled. "Well, Dorothy, if you truly are of Queen Lurline's blood, then you have magic in you. If you're determined to fight the witch, you'll need it."

"I've never used magic. I wouldn't know how."

"Well, lucky for you, I do. And I can teach you. Time moves different in Oz than in other places. I can train you, and when the time comes, you can follow the Wicked Witch to this other land and help her enemies defeat her, freeing our people." She held a hand out to Dorothy, "Come with me."

Dorothy nodded and took Lacosta's hand. The two went off to what had once been the throne room of the Wizard of Oz, and had been Pastoria's throne room before that. After everything, Dorothy was finally home.

---

"How about this one?" Henry asked, holding one of the pictures up to Dorothy.

She shook her head. "I don't know everyone. I'm not from The Enchanted Forest."

"You knew my grandparents," Henry said.

"Yes. I worked with them once. But I don't know every last person."

"We should just be happy for the people she does know," Paige said. "We can figure the rest out for ourselves." It was the first thing the girl had said since Dorothy had been unable to identify Paige's Uncle Ben.

"Maybe," Henry said. "Okay. This is the last one. Her name is Ruby, and she's a waitress at the local diner. Does she look familiar?"

Dorothy's breath caught. "Yes," she said, feeling herself tear up. "Yes she does."

Henry perked up. "Who is she?"

"I knew her as Red," Dorothy said, her voice hoarse. "We were in love."