A/N: I'm changing a few things we saw in S3E9 (Save Henry). Basically, in order to make the adoption a bit more realistic, and because if I'm giving Emma what I would imagine is something similar to the deal Ashley believed she had while cursed, then Emma's compensation needs to come from somewhere. Curse or no curse, I don't see Rumple paying out of pocket when Regina's the one who wants the child!

Chapter Four

It could be worse. Neal told himself that in the holding cell. He was still telling himself the same thing when he was turned over to U.S. marshals for transportation back to Arizona. Even when they shackled him for the ride. Even when the judge denied his bail, and he had to sit in jail awaiting his trial.

It could be worse, he repeated to himself afterwards, when he got onto the transport that would carry him off to start serving his sentence. Four years in a minimum security prison, when the public defender assigned to him had told him he could be facing up to ten. He wondered what had happened to Emma. He'd tried to find out, but the defender had either been unwilling or unable to tell him much. Still, what he'd learned had been encouraging.

"She's a juvie," the defender had said. "She also wasn't involved in the initial theft. Plus, since the state has you in custody, they're probably going to be less inclined to prosecute her to the fullest extent possible. In any event, she'll be free long before you'll be."

"That's great!" he'd exclaimed at the time.

The defender had smiled briefly, before her expression grew sterner. "As your counsel, I have to caution you not to attempt to contact her."

"What?"

"She's a minor. If I can tell your feelings for her are more than… brotherly, others will too."

"It's… it's not like that," Neal had protested.

"Good. Because I don't think you'll like what's in store if the prosecution gets it into its head that it might be."

He'd taken the hint and shut up. He couldn't tell her the truth anyway. When he'd finally escaped Neverland, he'd returned to a world changed beyond all recognition. If he hadn't known it to be a Land Without Magic, he would have suspected some of it at work in its transformation. In the century or more since he'd been gone, the technology, the clothing, the food, the music, the language… Almost none of it had been familiar.

More worrying, he'd discovered almost at once that without some sort of documentation, he couldn't get a room at a cheap inn or a job or the education he'd need to navigate this new place or a host of other needs and wants. And he'd learned before too long that nobody wanted to give him access to any of those things when he was only fifteen!

He'd been fifteen for over a hundred years, but a century of Pan had—weirdly, when you considered that he'd been living on an island where people didn't age—given him maturity beyond those years. He wouldn't dream of asking a family to take him in now, as the Darlings once had in London. Even had he known how such an arrangement might be done in this time and place, he'd been looking out for himself for far too long. He wasn't a child anymore. He didn't feel like one, he didn't act like one, and after a few weeks, when he realized that he was sprouting stubble on his chin (and a few other places), he no longer looked like one.

By then, he'd found out how to acquire the documents he'd need to survive here. His conscience had barely pricked him when he'd put the skills he'd learned from the Lost Boys to good use. It hadn't been any harder lifting a wallet out of a man's pocket than it had been getting a Neverfruit out of Felix's hammock—while the older boy had been sleeping in it!

The forger hadn't batted an eye when Neal had said he was eighteen. He'd just furnished the documents with the new name and other information as Neal relayed it.

It had been a good job. Too good, in fact, Neal reflected. Because he was now on his way to Globe, Arizona, courtesy of the state's Department of Corrections, to spend the next four years behind bars. And he wouldn't really turn eighteen for another three months.

It could be worse. He knew it could be worse. He'd lived worse. But this was still pretty bad. And, as much as he wished Emma were with him, he was also pretty glad that she wasn't.

Mr. Gold read the communication over carefully, a faint smile on his face. His newfound associate really did have a hand with phrases. The terms of the agreement before him were both explicit enough for him to understand precisely what he was contracting for, and yet oblique enough to allow for plausible deniability, should the document fall into the wrong hands.

It wasn't precisely the same as the contract he'd crafted for the Boyd girl, but it was close. His eyes widened slightly when he came upon the next paragraph. Oh, he did like that particular bit of wording. Perhaps he ought to make note of it in case another desperate young woman ever approached him to cut a similar deal.

Ross Andersen had thoughtfully included an estimate of anticipated expenditures during the mother-to-be's pregnancy and Gold scanned it, nodding a bit to himself. He'd run his own calculations earlier and, while there were a few expenses he hadn't bargained for—he hadn't realized that the mother-to-be was currently incarcerated and in need of the services of an attorney to try to alter that situation—he didn't believe that the man was trying to cheat him.

He looked at the time. Mayor Mills really ought to be at home by now. He took out his phone. "I believe I may have some good news for you…"

It was good news indeed, Regina thought to herself. "So, in six or seven months…" She let her voice trail off.

"So I'm given to understand," Gold replied. "Of course, this is assuming that the young woman in question agrees. And that, once she does, once you receive her personal data, you find nothing untoward that would lead you to seek another candidate. Assuming that both parties are amenable to the arrangement, the lawyer who is facilitating the process stipulates that mother-to-be receive generous compensation." He named the figure. "Fifty per cent of that is to be paid upfront to the lawyer, who will disburse the funds to the mother-to-be as appropriate. The remaining fifty per cent is to be paid after the birth."

"I understand," Regina said, nodding slightly. It was a considerable sum, but she could afford to part with it and the outcome would be worth it. At least, she thought to herself, it would be if all went according to plan. But life was seldom so simple. And so, it was with more than a little trepidation that she asked, "What happens if the girl changes her mind? Or if something goes wrong with the pregnancy?"

There was a short pause on the other end of the phone. "In the event that the woman changes her mind, you will receive your down payment back, less the lawyer's fees. If, at any point in the pregnancy, it should become apparent that the child will be born with a serious health issue, you will be notified at once and it will be your decision as to whether you wish to continue the arrangement. However, should you decide to withdraw at that point, you will receive back whatever portion of the down payment the lawyer holds in trust at the time that you communicate your desire to the lawyer. However, if you were change your mind about adopting the child at any time for any reason other than a serious medical issue, there would be no refunding of monies paid." His voice was gentle, as he delivered the next term. "If the child is not delivered alive, you'll have the option of being matched to a new candidate at no additional charge or to having ninety per cent of your payments returned. The remaining ten percent is a non-refundable facilitator's fee to the lawyer for his part in the arrangement."

"I suppose that's fair," Regina allowed. She didn't necessarily like the terms, but she understood and could live with them. But there was still another concern. "And how would I claim the child once it's born? Will I need to travel to Arizona?" Despite herself, she was feeling a bit nervous at the prospect, though she thought she was hiding it well. The Dark Curse had given her enough knowledge of this land to know that Phoenix, Arizona was a considerable distance away. While she knew that air travel was supposed to be safe here, and that an airplane shouldn't be any scarier than an automobile, if anything were to go wrong with a car, there was a far greater chance of being able to walk away from a disaster if you were already on the ground. Perhaps, she could drive the distance at that. The curse wouldn't dissolve in her absence. And since time was frozen here, the town would barely notice that she was gone before she'd be back again.

Gold's answer interrupted her train of thought. "That won't be necessary, Madame Mayor. The lawyer has ties to a number of adoption agencies that assist with the kind of arrangement you're seeking. The nearest such organization is in Boston. The child will be sent there."

Regina felt some of her worry drain away. Boston was only four hours from here by car, she knew. She could be there and back in the same day. "I'll be home this evening," she said, her voice displaying no emotion other than cool professionalism. "Suppose you come by around seven. We can go over the agreement in detail and assuming that there are no surprises, I'll sign off on the contract and I can have the funds transferred to you in the morning."

"Emma Swan?"

Emma nodded at the man who sat down across from her at the table. "That's me," she said guardedly.

The man smiled. "Hi, I'm Ross Anderson. I guess Dan—Nurse Harris has filled you in on why I'm here?"

Emma nodded again. "She told me you'd help me place my baby for adoption," she said slowly.

"That's right," Ross nodded. He'd reviewed her file last night and again this morning. From what he knew of her backstory, he thought he had a fairly good idea of how to proceed. "Most of the time, when a mother surrenders her newborn, the odds of the baby's being adopted are excellent. Usually, the demand is high for children under the age of three," he added as a passage from the notes he'd taken on Emma's file flashed in his mind.

Foster family had begun adoption proceedings when foster mother became pregnant. Proceedings terminated; child sent back into system aged three years.

"After that point," he continued smoothly, "the chances of adoption plummet. Now, usually, if a child has been placed for adoption at birth, it's not long until a family is found. However, before the adoption is finalized, things can still go wrong. A prospective parent can become ill. They can change their minds. And if that happens, the child goes into the foster system. Hopefully, not for long, but the longer the child remains there, the greater the likelihood that they'll grow up there."

Emma hugged herself. "No," she whispered. "No, I can't let that happen."

"Well," Ross said, "with the arrangement I'm proposing, it won't. Because your child's home will be assured even before he's born."

"But the parents could still change their minds."

Ross smiled gently. "Let me share a sad reality with you, Emma. Sad… but it's also the truth. When people put up money for something they want, they're much less likely to back out of the deal. And this is true even in a case where they're guaranteed to get that money back. Somehow, when cash changes hands, the commitment feels more… binding. I've facilitated over a dozen such adoptions and in all cases, they've been finalized without a hitch. Plus, I can promise you that your baby will be placed in an affluent home and given every opportunity to thrive. He or she will live in the best neighborhoods, go to the best schools, make the right kinds of friends, and have… well, the kind of options I could barely dream of when I was a boy."

"I take it you weren't born… um…" ...Rich, her mind supplied, though she realized before the word left her mouth that it would be insulting to say it out loud. Emma felt her face grow hot.

Ross shook his head, but he was still smiling. "I grew up in the system myself," he lied. "Luckily, my grades were good enough for a scholarship," he continued, falling back onto facts once more, "but I know what it does to a person growing up that way. I don't think either of that wants that for…"

"No," Emma said. "No, I don't. So, would I get to meet this… family?"

Ross shook his head. "I specialize in closed adoptions. That means that there's no contact between the biological and adoptive parents. You'll find out some basic information about them and they'll learn the same about you. You won't contact them and they'll never contact you. If there's ever any reason to communicate any information, it'll be done through lawyers."

"I'd have to talk to you, you mean."

"That's right," Ross nodded. "Now, if you were to write a letter, telling your child a bit about who you are and want you wanted for them when you gave them up, I can arrange to make that available to them on their eighteenth birthday. You can include any contact information, of course, but…"

"But I won't be in Durango in eighteen years. I might not even be in the US, never mind Phoenix," Emma said. "They'll never find me, will they?"

"Well, I wouldn't say that," Ross replied. "In fact, I think by the time your child is eighteen, it's going to be a lot easier than it would be today. You see, today, finding a birth parent—or a child surrendered for adoption, for that matter—usually involves a lot of phone calls and letter writing, often the hiring of private investigators… It can be a long, drawn-out process. Now, in the last few years, as more records have become computerized, that process has become a bit more streamlined. But now, with the internet starting to really take off, I'd say we're right on the cusp of being able to have all that information available right at your fingertips."

Emma frowned. She'd heard about the internet, even gone into a café once to see what all the fuss was about. The 'websites' she'd seen had been garish, often eye-smarting with fuchsia or electric blue type on a black or painfully yellow background. And they'd taken forever to load. Maybe this guy was right, but she didn't see how anyone could stare at one of those screens for long without killing their eyes.

He wasn't lying to her though. Emma could tell that much. He couldn't know the future, of course, but he believed what he was telling her. That, she realized, had to be enough. And in any case, she had to think about what she was going to do in seven months, not about eighteen years down the road. She had to think about what was best for the baby. And what was best for the baby wasn't living with a teenaged mother in some… roach-infested apartment the size of a closet or some trailer park. Maybe things would be different if Neal were with her. Maybe he could be. It was possible that he'd get lucky and the judge would let him off with a warning. Or he'd be sentenced to time served. Or community service. Or…

Three to ten years in state prison.

She couldn't write to him, she reminded herself. She didn't know where he was. And she wouldn't find out as long as she was in here. And once she did find out, what if it turned out that he'd gotten the maximum? After all, it wasn't like the watches were the only things he'd ever stolen. There had been all those petty thefts at the gas stations and convenience stores. The dine-and-dashes along I-84. The VW she'd broken into, not realizing he'd already stolen it first…

If it were just her, she'd wait for him. Once she got out, once she found out where he was, she'd pay him a visit and find out where their relationship stood. But she couldn't raise a baby on her own. She couldn't look after a child alone for ten years. She couldn't…

"I-I can still change my mind, right?" she asked.

"Right up until you surrender the baby when it's born," Ross nodded, feeling a surge of triumph as he passed the paperwork across the table.

That evening, Mr. Gold returned home to a waiting email.

She signed, it read. Attached please find the particulars. If all is to your satisfaction, have your client sign and return the documentation and wire the down payment and we can proceed from there.

Smiling, he opened the attachment. When he read the first line on the form, his eyes opened almost as wide as the door in his mind that had been keeping his memories locked tight.

"Emma," Rumpelstiltskin said aloud. "What a lovely name!"