14.

Three days after Christmas things seemed to have evened out at least a little. Neal hadn't pushed the fairytale thing, Belle seemed to acclimate quickly, and Gold spent most of his free time with her or with Neal. The boys were at the shop that afternoon and Belle was engrossed in a book at the house. That left Emma on her own for entertainment.

She had explored every bit of Gold's house that she thought she could reasonably get away with without appearing to be snooping. She had lived in enough places by that point to have it down to an art, but now she was going stir crazy. She needed fresh air.

That was how Emma found herself trudging down the snow-covered Main Street. People were milling about, looking in shops and generally going about their lives. There was something both nerve wracking and relaxing about a tiny town like Storybrooke was, and she tried to picture Neal growing up in a place like it. Outside of the circle she'd been pulled into, it seemed like a quaint little town where nothing much happened. People moved in and out of their lives like they would anywhere else, oblivious to the weirdness that lay just under the surface of their town. Either the two most powerful people in town were crazy or there was something very strange at play.

"Oh!"

Emma jerked back last second but didn't quite avoid colliding with the dark haired woman that she met upon arrival. Mary Margaret flushed. "I am so sorry," she managed, stooping to collect her fallen papers.

"I don't know why you're sorry. I ran into you," the blonde answered as she bent to help. She'd been so caught up thinking about the people of the town that she had forgotten not to run into them.

"I have a terrible habit of getting so lost in thought that I don't always watch where I'm going," Mary Margaret confessed as she collected her papers. "You're Emma, right? Mr Gold's son's girlfriend?"

"Yeah. That's me," she answered as they both stood. She handed the papers she'd collected over and Mary Margaret offered a bright smile.

"Well, welcome to Storybrooke, Emma. I'm Mary Margaret. Are you two staying long?"

Emma offered a noncommittal shrug. "We're just visiting his dad for a little bit. I don't really know." She caught sight of one of the papers sticking out of the folder she'd handed back. "Do you work at the hospital?" It looked official enough. Maybe Mary Margaret would know something about the asylum underneath.

"Oh no. I only volunteer. I teach fourth grade down at the elementary."

Well, there went that great idea.

"If you're looking for something to do with your time, we're always looking for volunteers," Mary Margaret said cheerfully and Emma blinked.

"Well, that's not what I-"

"It's really more fun than you'd think. The kids from my class decorated everything right before they left for Christmas break, so everything's still festive and colourful! You really should drop by."

"Yeah," Emma found herself saying without really meaning to, "I'll see when I have some free time. What do you do? Sit and read to coma patients or something?"

"We haven't before, but that's an excellent idea. The town library has been shut down for ages, but I'm sure Mr Gold keeps quite a private library. Would you mind terribly finding a few books to bring by? This evening would be wonderful."

The teenager felt like she'd been caught in a whirlwind and sucked right into it. "I'll see what I can do," she promised, and when Mary Margaret beamed she didn't think she was going to be able to find a way out of this. For such a mousy little woman she certainly was able to bring in the volunteers to help. "I have to run a couple of errands first, though, so I guess I'll meet you there."

"Perfect."

Regina was almost through piecing together what she needed for her two deals that were going to save her life. It had been a calculated risk when she took the little maid less than a year before she had cast the Curse to End All Curses, and she had known that. Rumple had been terribly distracted, though, and the Queen had received that from the lips of her most loyal friend of the time.

She had let it slide until the bit with the gauntlet. What did she care if some little girl had caught the Dark One's fancy? It shouldn't have mattered. Not until he was willing to be ransomed for the sake of her life. That had been too much. Rumplestiltskin never gave to demands that he didn't want to give to, but he'd made it quite clear there was no other game at play. Maleficent had told her in some detail how irritable he'd been when he'd come back around and had forcibly taken the gauntlet back.

Not that Regina had really thought that this little daughter of some sniveling knight would have been her former mentor's True Love, but even the woman that hated love had a difficult time finding any other explanation for the reactions she had received. It had been a shot in a he dark to send the girl back, but if she didn't know better she thought Belle might have actually broken his curse if she'd been able to kiss him. He was quite attached, so it would seem. She had thought he might kill her when he came back to himself in the shop, but no one had moved much to stop him when he had lured her down to the asylum. She was alive at that point because she was useful, and for no other reason. Magic or not, there was no question that Rumplestiltskin remained the Dark One. It didn't matter how he appeared to the world.

Regina sighed and wiped her hands off on a towel. She would have thought he knew better after everything. Love was weakness. Her mother had taught her that, if nothing else. She'd thought that Cora had taught that to Rumple in a lasting lesson as well.

There was nothing to do while it boiled. Potion making in the Land Without Magic wasn't impossible, but it was tedious, and it left her bored. She left it to sit over the burner and started down the corridor that led under the graveyard and towards the town hall. A set of rickety old stairs hadn't changed at all since the curse put them there, but they led up to her office and to some semblance of distraction.

Apparently more than she had bargained for. Emma Swan looked startled by her strange entrance. The blonde teen was sitting on the couch - well, sitting might have been the nice way to put it, but folded up onto the couch with her chin having been resting on her knees was more accurate - and her hazel eyes wide and focused more on the door hidden in the wall than the woman coming through it. "Please, let yourself in," Regina groused, but couldn't bring herself to be as put as as she should be. Well, she'd wanted a distraction.

"Your secretary was on her way out and told me you'd be back."

"My secretary barely works," the Queen huffed. "You looking for a job?"

Emma snorted. "Why does everyone seem to think I need something new to do with my time?"

Regina quirked an eyebrow and moved over to where a kettle sat on a portable heater and she poured steaming water into two cups and handed one to her young visitor. To her credit, Emma sniffed at the tea that had already begun to brew but didn't complain. "Why do you say that?"

"The lady with the short, dark hair - Mary Margaret? - roped me into reading to people tonight at the hospital."

Now it was Regina's turn to snort as she took a seat in her high-backed chair. "Well isn't she just the little do-gooder?"

Emma smiled a bit around her drink. "Yeah, I got that impression too."

The queen sat up straight, fingers interlaced around one crossed knee, and her dark eyes found hazel ones. "So why are you here, Miss Swan?"

She sighed, setting her cup down and unfolding herself a little more so that she could lean her elbows against her knees and come a little closer. Regina tried not to be impressed, but she'd almost forgotten what it was like to have a conversation with someone. As a rule, she wasn't fond of strangers. They were a threat, but Emma Swan acted as if she wanted to be… friends. Apparently Regina had done something to win her over, and while she'd never admit it out loud, she liked the girl's spunk.

A heavy sigh escaped the teen. "Okay, so this is weird."

"Breaking into my office?"

"I didn't break in! Your secretary let me in," Emma huffed, but she must have caught the hint of a smile that Regina was wearing and she echoed it before motioning towards the window. "Storybrooke. Do you really think what Mr Gold and Neal say is true?"

Regina watched her carefully, trying to gage exactly what this girl meant. She seemed like a clever girl, though one that didn't put a lot of belief into things. It was difficult to have faith when life beat you down again and again - sometimes bit by bit and sometimes with one or two major blows that shatter your will to care - but she sounded like she wanted to. Regina remembered being that young. That naive. "You want to make sure you're not putting your faith in the wrong man," she said softly after a moment.

Emma flushed. "Well, I mean, it's more than just that… I guess. Maybe? I don't know."

Dark eyes watched carefully over the tea cup as she sipped from it.

"Have you ever loved someone?" the blonde asked quietly.

"Once. A long time ago."

"What happened?"

"He died," Regina whispered, amazed at her own honesty.

Emma winced at that, but she was looking steadily at the older woman now. "If this guy - the guy you loved - had told you something that sounded insane, would you have believed him or would you have needed proof?"

Regina tilted her head. She would have believed him, she knew. Daniel had said they could run and she'd been ready to run. It hadn't been true, though. They couldn't escape her mother, and if she had accepted that, if she'd just bent to Cora's will, perhaps it wouldn't have ended quite so badly. Perhaps Daniel might still be alive, even if he were off somewhere else and she… Well she would have found herself following the same path regardless, wouldn't she? Sometimes fate was inescapable.

"Sorry," Emma mumbled and shrugged her shoulders. "I just… I don't have anyone to ask, you know? Most people have parents or a sister or something, but I don't. I almost did, but I ran. I don't want to do that to Neal."

"Then don't," Regina said firmly. "I told you before: fight for what you want. Take it."

"Even if it means believing something absurd?"

The Evil Queen stood and offered her a hand up. She had pushed everyone away that she once cared about and the loneliness was overwhelming on a good day. Maybe it was time to start forming up some bonds. "You might be amazed at what you're willing to believe by the end of all of this."

Emma smirked. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Sure."

"I kind of want it to be true. Like… maybe he and I were supposed to meet or something."

Regina chuckled, but didn't have time to say anything before a loud chiming sound echoed down the main street and Emma looked at the clock on the wall. "Oh! I'm late. Sorry! You want to grab lunch at Granny's sometime this week?" There was a pause before Emma reached out and touched the older woman's shoulder. "Regina?"

The queen jerked a bit, startled. "That sounds wonderful," she forced out. "Now go on. You'll be late. We'll make plans." She scooted the blonde teen out and as soon as the door closed she ran to the window. The clock over the library was still chiming, singing out for all of Storybrooke to hear and Regina felt a knot settle deep in her stomach. Time was moving. She didn't know how fast or exactly how it had started, but it was moving.

"So what are we going to do about Emma's dad?"

The question was abrupt, catching Rumplestiltskin a little off guard. He looked up from where he'd been looking through his rental files for the first of the month. They hadn't spoken of the prince since finding him comatose in the hospital, but apparently he had remained in Bae's thoughts. Now that they were alone his son was watching him carefully, waiting for an answer that Rumplestiltskin wasn't sure he had.

The shop owner set his paperwork down and shifted his focus. "Well, he is in a coma."

"Why would the curse have done that though? I mean, you said Regina cast it to make her enemies miserable, right? It's not like Emma's mom knows that's her husband."

Rumplestiltskin shifted on the stool he was seated on. "True. He may have been injured when the curse hit. Most physical situations simply traveled over, but if he were on the verge of death... Well, yes, I suppose that's the most likely scenario."

"So how do we wake him up?"

Thin lips pressed together in thought. "That may take some time," he answered uncertainly. "It's nothing I particularly accounted for. There was a spell in place to keep Regina from harming either Snow or her prince, though it couldn't account for everything." His son shot him a questioning look and he continued. "When the curse came in it was in the form of a giant cloud. It rippled pieces of our world apart. If, say, a piece of the castle fell on him or something like that, the spell wouldn't have protected him."

"But being brought to Storybrooke could have saved his life?"

"I suppose so," Rumplestiltskin answered carefully. "Though none of that will help us to wake him."

Bae frowned deeply and it looked like his mind was trying to work through the problem. He was clever, but he didn't understand the inner workings of the curse as his father did. Waking him up without the curse actually breaking would be tricky at best. Rumplestiltskin was willing to find just the right threads to pull, of course. There were few things that his son could ask of him that he wouldn't willingly give.

"You can wake him, right?" Bae asked quietly and the the hasty promise he'd made to reunite his son's love with her family swirled in Rumplestiltskin's mind. He really should know better than to promise things without all the facts in hand. Even to Bae.

"I will do everything in my power, Bae," he promised carefully, "but we may need to wait until the curse is broken."

"And that may not be for another ten years?"

"Or so. Twenty-eight was the age that I saw."

"Still freaks me out that you can see the future," his son teased.

"Well, not here, and it does make it interesting when dealing with things going awry. I'll admit, the seer that I received my powers from said I would be able to learn the difference between what will be and what could be, but sometimes they prove to be quite similar."

Both men startled at the sound of the front door trying to open despite the closed sign clearly displayed and the lock that was firmly in place. It rattled again as if the person thought it might be stuck before they began pounding against it.

Rumplestiltskin sighed as he stood. Only one person would be so stubbornly persistent as to hammer down his locked door to get to him. Only one person was that impatient as well. He really didn't feel like replacing the door that day, so he limped to the front and tugged it open, glaring at Regina. "Closed," he read for her, jabbing a finger in the direction of the sign to prove his point.

"Not to me you're not," the Evil Queen huffed and would have brushed right past him if he had not stretched his arm across the threshold, left hand pressed against the doorframe and arm blocking her enhance. She scowled and he smiled a thin and dangerous smile.

"Even to you, dearie. I'm spending a few movements with my son."

"Rumple, this is important. Time is moving."

"And this surprises you?"

He saw frustration flash through her eyes even as Bae joined them. "Of course it does. My curse-"

"Your curse has been met with unforeseen circumstances," the curse's created growled. "Magnus has introduced variables impossible to entirely account for."

She blinked. "You think this is Magnus' doing? You said that there was only one way to break it. You said-"

"I did," he snapped, "but that doesn't mean that it can't be weakened. Magnus is powerful, Regina, though not more than the prophecy."

"And that is years away," she whispered and he simply waited, allowing her to come to her own conclusion on that. She didn't suspect Emma, even if the girl's presence was likely fuelling at least some of the change. Let the queen vent her fury towards the clerics and away from the savior, though. That would work everything out quite nicely.

"Now, your majesty, I'd like some time with my son, if you don't mind."

"I'm not done here, Rumple. This is-"

"Please." He watched the caveat wash over her, only increasing her agitated state. She couldn't fight it, though, and she had never made it into his shop to begin with. He barely waited for her to turn before slamming the door shut and licking it once more.

"That was weird," his son offered from where he was leaning against a counter. "I'm not claiming to be a Regina expert or anything, but she doesn't seem the type to accept a polite request."

Rumplestiltskin snorted. "Hardly. I knew I'd need a bit of leverage with Regina, so I had her agree to a caveat. She would heed any request as long as I say please."

Bae choked out a laugh. "Seriously? That's hilarious."

A smile perked his lips. "It will be useful for corralling her if the need arises."

"There's a limit, right? I mean, you can't control her like someone could you with your dagger, could you?"

Rumplestiltskin tilted his head thoughtfully. His son sounded almost worried. "No," he answered slowly, "I don't believe it would be quite that absolute, nor that long-lasting."

Bae nodded, accepting that. "Okay."

He left it there and they went back to what they'd been doing before Regina had so rudely interrupted. A bit of work, a bit of enjoying each other's company after so long. Somewhere in there Bae found an old, buried machine and Rumplestiltskin chuckled at the sight of one of his old spinning wheels. They dusted it off and pulled it out of the cluttered hole it had been fitted into. Rumplestiltskin couldn't imagine how he'd missed it all of those years, but it wasn't like Gold would have had any use for it. He and Bae, on the other hand, found many fond memories in the old wheel that has once sat in their home and worries about Regina and the curse were pushed aside at least for a little while in place of the memories he hadn't dared focus on until he found Baelfire.

Rumple - because that name just seemed to suit him better than Mr Gold did, but she certainly didn't know why - had told her that she was welcome to anything in the house. He had shown her how to use the phone to call him and had left the numbers she was to dial on the table next to it if she had any questions while he was gone. There were also written reminders that many of the lights could be turned on by flipping a switch and to make sure that the refrigerator was closed so that it didn't leak water onto the kitchen floor. There was food in there and water in the kettle. If she didn't feel like eating anything in the house she was welcome to call him at the shop and he would grab something at Granny's on his way home. The list went on in the same way, and she wasn't sure if he was a natural worrier or if she caused him to. She certainly hoped it was the latter, because if it was, she wasn't sure what she'd done in the time that she knew him to cause it.

She still couldn't quite remember him, or anything of any consequence about her own past for that matter. Every time she asked he assured her it would come back in time, but not how or why he knew it would. She trusted him, though, despite everything. She just would have liked to know why she trusted him.

Though her conscious mind couldn't quite pull anything forward beyond the fog, her dreams came alive with things she couldn't possibly place. They were so very different than this quaint little town that she'd found outside of her cell beneath the hospital. They were made up of stone walls like those of a castle and strange smells, and a man that looked like Rumple but didn't. She only caught glimpses of him, but his eyes were different. She thought she liked them better as they were when she woke.

Belle had risked asking Bae about it just the morning before when she had happen to catch him alone. He had been almost as awkward and flustered about it as his father was, but when pressed he said that he hadn't been there when they'd known each other. He and his father had been separated when he was young, he explained, and had only recently found each other again.

The sound of the front door opening caught startled Belle out of her thoughts and she looked up from where she'd been reading. Well, she'd meant to be reading anyway. She was sitting on the sofa with a book in her lap and she was staring at the page, but her mind was focusing on everything but the words. Emma came barreling in, gaze sweeping through the room before settling on Belle. "Is Gold not back yet?"

Blue eyes blinked owlishly. "He and Bae are still at the shop." She paused carefully. She still hadn't gotten a very good read on the blonde teen that was apparently dating Rumple's son. "Maybe I can help?" she asked hesitantly, unsure how the offer would be received.

Emma scrunched her nose up and seemed to be considering her options as quickly as she could. "Well, you do like books, right?"

Belle smiled. Finally a question that she knew the answer to. "I do love books."

"Great. Mary Margaret - a lady in town - roped me into volunteering to read to coma patients or something at the hospital. Could you pick a couple of good ones? I don't know what unconscious people like to hear."

The older woman tried to choke back the laugh that worked its way from her. Emma was entirely serious and she didn't want to hurt the teen's feelings just because the phrasing had struck her as funny. "I'd love to help. Would you mind terribly if I come along?"

"House is kind of big to be in alone, isn't it?" Emma asked with a hint of a smile. "I don't know how Gold has done it all these years."

Belle shrugged as she stood, crossing the room to the bookshelf to begin to dig through it for something useful. She quickly found a few titles that looked promising. "When are we going?"

"Now. We're already late. Sorry."

This time Belle did chuckle as she collected the books and slipped her shoes on. "I think it might be best if you drive," she offered and Emma seemed to relax a little.

"Yeah, might be better," she laughed and offered Belle a bag to put the books in and carry them. She was quiet as they walked out to the little yellow vehicle that she drove, but Belle couldn't help but notice how uncomfortable her presence seemed to make Emma. It was as if she were a reminder of something the girl preferred not to think on too long, but had to with Belle in the same room.

"So have any of your memories come back?" Emma asked as they walked in the front door of the hospital.

"Maybe?" Belle answered as honestly as she knew how. "It's more... feelings, than anything else. I know that doesn't make sense entirely, but I feel very strongly about certain things." She smiles. "For example, I know that I love to read. I'm not sure why I know that. I never had anything to read in the asylum, but I immediately went for the books at my first chance. There's that, and other things. It's difficult to describe."

"How do you feel about Gold?" Emma asked with a look that said she was trying to hide her curiosity and Belle felt her face heat.

"He's been very generous and... I think I trust him. I know I do."

"You just don't know why."

"Exactly."

"Hey Emma!" a voice called from down the otherwise empty hall. Belle saw a woman with short, dark hair approaching them with a wide smile. "And you brought a friend."

"Yeah, this is Belle. She's kind of an expert at books so I thought she might be able to help."

The volunteer continued to smile and extended a hand. "Hi, Belle. I'm Mary Margaret. Glad to have you on board."

Mary Margaret explained what they would be doing with the ease of someone who had been volunteering for years. She set both young women to work and Belle made her rounds, reading to various sleeping patients. She lost herself in the storytelling until she heard a startled yelp from down the hall.

Belle dropped what she was doing and whispered her apology to the slumbering person in the bed as she darted down the hall to the source of the noise. She nearly ran into Emma as they went to investigate. They found Mary Margaret sitting on the edge of the bed belonging to a man who looked to be sleeping peacefully. In her lap was a book of what may have been fairytales of some form or fashion.

"What happened?" Emma demanded, looking around the room as if she expected someone to jump out.

"He woke up," Mary Margaret managed. "He grabbed my hand."

"Maybe he liked the story?" Belle offered, not quite sure what the issue with that was.

Mary Margaret shook her head. "This man has been in a deep coma for as long as I've been volunteering here," she managed and three sets of eyes focused on the blond man who slept on like nothing strange had happened.

TBC

Notes: These are the times when I'm so very, very glad that I write ahead. I've just been sucked into writing on some of my original stuff lately and have been going full blast at it. Thankfully, even with this update, I'm maybe four chapters ahead here. Next week I'm going to have to learn how to balance the two so I can stay ahead though. :-/

Next time - A coma patient wakes up, Emma's skepticism is put to the test, and Magnus proves he's willing to do anything the get what he wants.