A/N: I'm playing a little loose with the timeline, having Gold's conversation with Regina happen now. AU and all that. Some dialogue lifted directly from S1E8: Desperate Souls.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

There was still a light on in Mary Margaret's apartment when Emma led Neal upstairs. She smiled as the two stepped in the door. "You must be Neal," she said. "Emma's told me a lot about you."

Neal glanced at Emma. "Good or bad?" he asked with a nervousness that was only partly feigned.

"Good, of course!" Mary Margaret laughed. "It's nice to finally meet you."

Neal smiled and shook the hand she held out to him. "Likewise," he said. "Emma's told me a lot about you, too."

Mary Margaret hesitated. "Good?" she asked hopefully.

"Good," Neal assured her and Emma nodded. Mary Margaret heaved a sigh of relief.

"If you're hungry, I can take some stew out of the freezer and pop it in the microwave."

"Thanks," Neal said, "but I grabbed something on my way to the airport. Emma?"

"I got take-out at Granny's."

"Oh," Mary Margaret's smile dimmed a fraction, but only for a moment. "Well, then, if it's okay with you, I need to get ready for bed. I'm tutoring one of my students at seven-fifteen tomorrow morning, so I should get a good night's sleep."

"Sounds like a plan," Neal said, smothering a yawn of his own. "Sorry. I guess flying tires me out."

"Yeah," Emma quipped. "Flapping your arms for an hour and a half must get exhausting."

"If you're going against the air current," Neal said, so deadpan that for an instant, Emma half-believed he was serious. She laughed.

"C'mon. I'll show you where we're sleeping."

This wasn't going to work. Neal realized it as soon as he heard the bedsprings creak down below, as Mary Margaret got into bed. He'd always been a far lighter sleeper than Emma. Well. Not always. Neverland and its teenaged ruler had taught him well. A few too many rude awakenings in the dead of night for a pirate raid or a kraken hunt, knowing that the last one out of his hammock was likely to be dangled as bait, set to scout for traps, or 'just' given a nick from one of Felix's arrows as a warning (Felix was always awake and on his feet before any of the other boys and Neal suspected that Pan roused him first) and Neal had learned to sleep with one eye and both ears open.

He and Emma had moved in together almost eight years ago. Over time, he'd learned to tune out her breathing patterns and the occasional groans she sometimes made when she slept. According to her, he groaned too, sometimes. It didn't surprise him.

He couldn't tune out the noises coming from Mary Margaret's bed one level below. Maybe if she'd had a bedroom with proper walls and a door, or if this not-exactly-an-attic alcove had come with those accoutrements instead of being so… open-concept.

Emma might have warned him. His terry bathrobe was bulky and it would have taken up too much space in the lone checked bag and carry-on he was able to bring on the flight without incurring extra fees, so he'd left it at home. He'd only just met Mary Margaret, but she didn't strike him as someone who'd be blasé about seeing him walking around the loft in his underwear. His eyes, already half-closed in the dark flew wide open. No walls and no doors… He'd have to get dressed in the bathroom. Nothing wrong with that, except that even if Mary Margaret didn't spend any longer in that space in the morning than Emma did, waiting—in his underwear—had a good chance of becoming a new norm for him.

It was just for a week, he reminded himself. Funny, though. That was what Emma had told him: that she was just going to stay here for a week to get to know their son. And yet, she'd quickly taken a job and now she was running for sheriff. He wanted to get to know their son, too. And…

And he probably wasn't just here for a week either. Even if he wanted to leave and not look back, Emma wouldn't go with him and he couldn't just leave her to deal with his father. Not only would she never forgive him for knowingly abandoning her, but if Papa did anything to hurt her, he'd never forgive himself.

Besides, while this might be a Land without Magic, Neal was ready to lay odds that Destiny was still Destiny. Emma had one and Fate, he'd wager, would see to it that she fulfilled it. He couldn't pull her away from it; he'd tried and yet, here they both were. He didn't want this. He wanted a nice, sane, safe life in Boston where the only magic was the kind he and Emma made together. And if Henry could be part of that, so much the better. But Emma was stubborn and he'd never get her to leave now—not without a good reason. With her superpower, she'd see through any lie, but she wouldn't believe the truth either; not now anyway.

Neal mentally reviewed the things Emma had already told him about this place: the hazy memories everyone seemed to have, the recent earthquakes, the coincidences she knew had to have some rational explanation, and at the heart of it, their son and the book he was obsessed with. Neal wanted to have a look at that, too.

He groaned. He couldn't abandon Emma. He wouldn't encourage her, but he would stay back and give her whatever mental and emotional support she might need. He was going to meet his son and get to know him. He was going to look for a lawyer in this town who might be willing to take their part in a custody case…

…But first thing in the morning, he was going to see whether there were any short-term rentals with walls and lockable doors in this town.

When Mr. Gold walked into Granny's the next morning, he saw that Henry and Emma were sharing breakfast together for the first time in weeks. A smile came to his face. Young Henry was scarcely having the easiest time of it, but he generally exhibited an optimism and resilience that had been sadly lacking since the Sheriff's demise. It was good to see the boy animated and engaged once more.

An eyebrow shot up. He'd been quite certain he knew everyone in this town by now, but the young man sharing a table with Henry and Emma was a stranger to him. All three of them were poring over the newspaper and frowning. Gold shook his head. There was nothing in the town charter to forbid a candidate running for election from working as a journalist, and mud-slinging was scarcely illegal, but there was still something distasteful about a news reporter using his vocation to tarnish his opponent. At least, judging by the expressions on the faces at the table, he presumed that Sidney had published another hatchet job.

It mattered little. The town was overdue for some change (twenty-eight long years overdue), and Gold meant to help bring it about. By the time he was done, Emma Swan would be sheriff and Regina and Sidney wouldn't know what hit them. And if they did, there would still be precious little either could do about it.

Henry got up from the table, shouldering his backpack and waving to the two adults. Gold believed he heard the boy say something about needing to catch his bus. Gold considered for a moment. Then, as the boy passed him, he contrived to take a step forward at what would have seemed an inopportune time to any onlooker. Henry collided with his cane and would have gone sprawling, had Gold not caught hold of his sleeve. "Careful, there, young man," he exclaimed.

Henry's eyes went wide, but seeing that Gold didn't seem put out, he relaxed somewhat. "Sorry, Mr. Gold. I didn't see you."

"Well. That much is obvious," Gold said with a faint smile. "You're unhurt."

"Yeah, I-I'm fine," Henry said. "Just got to catch the school bus if I don't want to be late."

"Ah." He loosened his grip on the boy's sleeve but didn't release it. "I must confess I'm curious as to who it is yet sharing a table with your mother."

At once, Henry brightened. "Oh," he said, almost too casually. "That's my dad. Neal. C'mon, quick; I'll introduce you."

His father? Gold's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't balk when Henry unselfconsciously grabbed his hand and led him back to the table.

"I told you," Emma was saying.

"Yeah," the young man—Neal—said wearily, "but who ever heard of a place with zero vacant apartme—" He broke off suddenly at Henry's approach, eyes widening when he realized that the boy hadn't returned alone.

"Mr. Gold," Henry said proudly, "this is my dad. Neal Cassidy."

Rumple's pleasant smile yielded briefly to a look of disappointment. He banished it quickly "Judging by your reaction," he said with forced joviality, "I can only presume that my reputation's preceded me. Pity."

"Uh… yeah," Neal managed, taking Gold's outstretched hand and giving it a quick pump. "Nuh-nice to meet you."

You scarcely seem to think so. Gold thought. Curiously, Emma seemed surprised by Neal's reaction. Whoever it was who'd told the young man about him, it didn't seem that it had been she. His gaze fell on the open Mirror. "Looking for work?" he asked, noting that the paper was open to the classifieds.

"Actually, we're looking for an apartment," Emma said. "I tried before, after I got thrown out of Granny's, but I was hoping something else might have opened up in the interim."

"Things aren't going well at the Blanchard loft?"

Emma shrugged. "You know what they say: two's company, three's a crowd. But with the anti-felon ordinance, we don't have a whole lot of options."

Gold looked from Emma to Neal. The young man nodded hesitantly, not meeting his eyes. Just who had he been talking to? Mary Margaret, he answered himself. She must have regaled this Mr. Cassidy with all the stories she knew about him and then moved on to rumors and innuendo. Yes, Neal Cassidy's reaction had the schoolteacher's fingerprints all over it. With that mystery seemingly solved, he smiled. "Well, you know, I do own all of the rental properties in this town and, in general, I only find it necessary to advertise them when I haven't a potential renter lined up ahead of time. As it happens, though, I do have several vacancies that I haven't gotten round to posting for, as of yet. Suppose you pass by the shop in about an hour and I'll be happy to give you a list of such dwelling places as are currently vacant?"

Emma beamed. "That sounds great!"

"Yeah," Neal managed. "Great." He turned to Emma. "We'll go together?"

Emma hesitated. "Actually, I need to stop by the town hall. Yesterday, when I saw the newspaper, I was," she held her thumb and index finger up about an inch apart, "this close to storming into Regina's office and ripping her a new one, but…" she gave Neal a hesitant smile, "I kind of figured if you were here, you'd tell me to calm down, sleep on it, and see how things looked in the morning.

Neal smiled. "And now?"

"I still want to tear her a new one," Emma stated. "But I'll go easy on her. Probably won't look great if tomorrow's Mirror headline reads, 'Sheriff candidate assaults mayor; charges pending'. I'll behave."

Rumple stood behind the shop's counter, a faint smile on his face as he toyed with a lighter, feeling the warmth of its flame on his face as it danced before his eyes. The bell over the door jangled and his smile broadened. He'd been looking forward to this meeting. "Regina," he greeted the mayor, as she shut the door behind her and flipped his sign so that it would show as closed to any passersby. "Shall I move some things? Make a bit of space for your rage?"

She'd rarely been one to mince words. "You found that loophole in the town charter."

He smirked. "Legal documents… Contracts, if you like. Always been a fascination of mine."

"Yes," Regina retorted. "You love to trifle with technicalities."

"I like small weapons, you see," Gold returned with a slight shrug. "The needle, the pen, the fine point of a deal. Subtlety. Not your style, I know."

"You're a bastard," Regina said calmly and he chuckled. Emma's throwing down the gauntlet had gotten under her skin, hadn't it?

"I think your grief's getting the better of you, Regina," he pronounced. "Shame what happened to Graham."

"Don't you talk about him," she said bitterly. "You know nothing."

I know you took his heart long ago. And that had your rage not got the better of you, you'd hold it still. But play the grieving paramour if it suits you, dearie; I'm scarcely about to admit to knowing things that Mr. Gold has no business knowing. Though by now, you must suspect I'm awake and it must rankle that you can't confirm as much. "What is there to know?" he asked, shrugging again. "He died."

"Are you really going up against me?" Regina asked him.

"Not directly," Rumple informed her, keeping to the nonchalant tone he knew infuriated her most. "We are, after all, both invested in the common good. We're just picking different sides."

"Well," Regina said, smiling again, "I think you picked a really slow horse this time. It's not like you to back a loser."

"She hasn't lost yet," Rumple reminded her."

"She will."

"Never underestimate someone who's acting for her child."

"Henry is not her child," Regina snapped. "Not legally."

Rumple snorted. "Now who's trifling with technicalities?"

Regina's eyes narrowed. "Where on earth did you dig up that man who was sharing a table with her at breakfast? I thought you usually had Mr. Dove to do your dirty work. But then, he doesn't strike me as the type to get political."

Rumple laughed. "It wasn't me doing the digging, dearie," he said. "No, I think you're best putting that question to Ms. Swan directly."

"So, you don't know who he is," Regina said, looking nervous for the first time.

"Oh, I know who he is, dearie. His name is Neal Cassidy." His lips parted in a wide grin. "That's Henry's father."

He made a mental note to go over the footage from the shop's security camera after closing time this evening. If there was any way that he could preserve the frame showing the mayor's reaction to that revelation, he had every intention of doing so.

Papa hadn't recognized him. Neal's initial wave of relief didn't last long. If Papa was still asleep under the Curse, then of course he probably didn't remember he had a son and Neal didn't need to worry about giving himself away until—and unless—Emma successfully woke him. But if Papa was already awake…

Neal frowned. If Papa was awake, had he changed? The man he'd just shaken hands with had been soft-spoken, polite, guarded yes, but also relatively friendly. Perhaps, this was who Papa would have been, had poverty and sorrow not crushed his spirit years ago. Or perhaps, Papa was putting on a show, lulling everyone's suspicions while he put some plan into action.

He frowned. Papa hadn't been that devious before. It had been the Darkness, changing him, corrupting him, turning him from the good man Neal had once known. If, in this Land without Magic, Papa had truly been freed from that Darkness as the Reul Ghorm had led him to believe, then maybe they could be together once more. If Papa was asleep, then the personality he'd displayed today wasn't truly his own. But if he was awake…

If he's awake, why didn't he recognize me? I haven't changed that much! Or have I? Has Papa forgotten me? The Ruel Ghorm told me once that I was the part of Papa that kept him human. Once he let me go, did he get so much worse that he…? Neal shook his head. The man he'd just met hadn't seemed much like a monster.

But then, he'd met a number of people who hadn't seemed like monsters until he'd gotten to know them a bit better, hadn't he? And anyway, after all this time trying to keep himself and Emma away from this place so that there would be no confrontation with his father, why was he so upset with this outcome? He should be thrilled that Papa didn't know him! It made things so much easier!

Then… why did he want to take Papa by the shoulders and scream that he was Baelfire and somehow make him remember? And then… what? Hug him? This was his father, but this was also the man who'd chosen power over love. Power over him. And he didn't even remember doing it!

…Did he?

Neal closed his eyes and massaged his forehead. He didn't know what to do and there was nobody that he could ask for advice. But he was going to call on Papa at the shop, as he'd been advised to. After all, he did need to find a place to stay for as long as he was here. If Papa didn't know who he was, then it should be safe enough. And maybe, Neal thought, if he spent a bit more time with Papa, he'd be able to find some of the answers to the questions and speculations now churning in his mind.

Regina wasn't in her office. Much as it might have been nice to think that the mayor was avoiding her, Emma doubted it. She was probably at Sidney's campaign office giving him some tips. After all, she'd been the mayor of this place forever; she probably knew a thing or two about successful campaigns.

She'd run unopposed for 'as long as anyone could remember,' though. Maybe she didn't actually know how to deal with opposition.

Emma thought about how she'd been evicted from Granny's. The boot on her car she'd found later that day—the same day that Regina had manipulated her into saying something that had nearly destroyed her growing friendship with Henry. Regina knew how to deal with opposition, all right. She didn't seem to know about proportional response! Maybe, Emma thought, it would be better to let that hatchet job slide. She didn't actually know for sure that Regina had anything to do with it. Maybe that was all Sidney.

Her phone vibrated, and she looked at a text from Neal: Spent some time walking around and lost track. Heading to the shop now, but it doesn't feel right looking at places without you. Sure you can't meet me there?

Emma hesitated. Then, after verifying with Regina's receptionist that the mayor hadn't said when she'd be back, she texted, On my way. See you in ten.

She'd just have to come back here later to have it out with the mayor.

"You're late," Gold greeted them, and though his tone was pleasant enough, Emma could tell that he was annoyed.

"Yeah, sorry," Neal said, not meeting his eyes. "I…"

"He had to talk me into coming after all," Emma said.

Gold smiled. "Ah. I did see Mayor Mills a short while ago, so would I be correct in thinking that the confrontation you were seeking earlier has yet to take place?"

Emma frowned. "You would be, yeah. So, do you know where she is now?"

"Alas," Gold shook his head, "I do not. But this is a small town and, doubtless, you'll bump into her ere long. It's not as though you don't know where she lives and works, after all. But as you're here for another matter," he continued briskly, "suppose we deal with that now?"

"Sure," Neal said, and there was something about the heartiness of his agreement that made Emma frown. She'd rarely seen him this on edge. Yeah, Gold was shady, but it wasn't as though the two of them didn't have experience dealing with shady people. For now, though, she only nodded and resolved to try to get to the bottom of things with Neal later.

"You're seeking new lodgings," Gold stated. "Might I enquire as to your budget?"

Neal hesitated. "Well, I don't know how long we're going to be in town," he said. "I-I mean, if Emma wins the election, I guess we'll be here for a while, but if she doesn't, I don't want to be locked into a lease for a year."

Gold nodded. "Quite right," he said. "I do take your point. Well, if you're looking for a short-term rental, I do have one property that would suit. It's a bit rundown, I must admit, though it's certainly fit for habitation. If you're only looking for accommodations for a few weeks, I think it would do quite nicely. And if you should decide to extend your stay, well, of course I'll move on the necessary repairs. Meanwhile, in its current state, I would be willing to be a bit more flexible than usual on the rent." He frowned. "I don't believe you did mention your budget."

Neal hesitated. "This is for an apartment?"

"Actually…"

"Hang on," Emma said. "You're not… I-I mean, you weren't going to give us Graham's place, right? Because I know I'm trying to take over his job, but living in his old apartment just feels… a little too creepy. At least, for me."

Gold chuckled. "While the former sheriff's apartment is currently vacant, I'm afraid I'd need you to sign a one-year lease for it. No, I was thinking of a different property—a house on Chatham Street about ten minutes from here."

"A house," Neal repeated. "I… Well, if it's the only place available short-term, maybe you'd better tell me what kind of rent you were expecting and I'll tell you if we're in the right ballpark."

"As you wish," Rumple returned. He named a figure and Emma's eyes widened.

"That's all?" she asked. "For a house?" Gold was asking over a hundred less than they were paying for their apartment in Boston.

"Emma," Neal reminded her, "he said it's a fixer-upper." He turned to Gold.

"I guess we can have a look," he said. "And if worse comes to worse, I guess we can stay with Mary Margaret." He had no intention of doing so, but he also had no intention of letting Papa think they were desperate. He knew better than that.

The house at 3695 Chatham Street had definitely seen better days. Its windows were boarded up and the wooden staircase that led up to the front door was missing its banister. Inside, though, the floor was sound, the walls showed no hint of mold or moisture damage, and the walls appeared solid enough.

"As I said," Mr. Gold remarked, "it is a bit of a fixer-upper. Naturally, if you are intent on taking it for longer than a week, I'll put a bit more effort into arranging the repairs."

"And the rent would be the same?" Neal asked.

Gold smiled. "Well, if it's just a matter of bringing the property into compliance with building code requirements, no. If, on the other hand, you wish to request additional improvements, I'd say that's something we can discuss." He noted the look that passed between Neal and Emma with satisfaction. "Come. There's a basement I haven't yet shown you."

They followed him down the rickety stairs. Gold nearly tripped halfway down when his cane caught in the threadbare carpeting, but Neal gripped his elbow to steady him. "Careful!" he exclaimed.

Eyes wide, Gold turned to face him and nodded. "M-my thanks to you," he said with attempted nonchalance, but Neal had caught the faint tremor in his voice.

"Don't mention it," Neal said. "Let's just take it slower."

"O-of course," Gold agreed, taking them the rest of the way down without mishap. He shook his head. "It appears I must apologize for the mess," he remarked, eying the sloppy pile of comic books and the candy bar wrappers strewn about the floor. "I've not been here since the previous tenants defaulted on their rent. I hadn't realized this rubbish was down here."

Emma's eyes narrowed. "Really?" she asked.

Gold shook his head. "I had hoped that they were tidier than this," he said. "After all, the upstairs was certainly neater."

Emma's frown deepened, but she nodded and turned to Neal. "So… what do you think?"

Neal hesitated. "It's… not bad. I mean, we've both lived in worse. What do you think?"

Emma considered for a moment. "Well, it's not Tallahassee, but if you like it, I think we can make it work."

"I'm sorry," Gold cut in. "Tallahassee?"

"Um…" Neal swallowed.

"Old joke," Emma said. "You had to be there."

"Ah. Well, then. About the house?"

Neal nodded slowly. "We'll take it."

"Excellent," Gold said, his businesslike demeanor returning. "In that case, I'll have the paperwork prepared and I can bring it by Ms. Blanchard's loft, say… around half-nine this evening?"

"Uh, yeah," Neal said. "That sounds fine."

"Sure," Emma agreed.

It was getting dark when they were standing outside again. After Gold had driven off, Emma looked at her watch. "You'd think I'd be used to early sunsets in December," Emma muttered. "It's not even four-thirty yet. I'm going see if Regina's back in her office by now."

"Want some company?" Neal asked.

Emma shook her head. "I can deal with this myself. Oh, and don't tell Mary Margaret we're moving out. I think that's something we need to do together."

"No problem."

The morning paper was in the Beetle's glove compartment and Emma remembered to take it with her when she pulled up in front of the town hall. The receptionist wasn't at her desk, she noted as she stormed into the office beyond.

"This was a juvie record," she informed Regina, skipping the usual pleasantries. "I don't know how you got it, but that's abuse of power and illegal."

Regina smiled coolly. "Oh," she said, "I'm sorry. You didn't want people to know you cut his cord with a shiv?"

"I don't care what people know," Emma said, "but this hurts Henry."

"He would've learned eventually," Regina said with a shrug. "We all lose our heroes at some point." She got up from her desk, gathered her things and began heading out of her office.

Emma followed hot on her heels. She might have calmed down some since the morning, but Regina's supercilious attitude was riling her up all over again. She made an effort, all the same. "He doesn't need to lose anything more. He's depressed, Madam Mayor. He doesn't have any… any hope. Don't you see that?"

Regina gave her a hard look. "He's fine."

"He's not fine," Emma insisted. I mean, think about it. Watching his adoptive mother throw an illegal smear campaign against his birth mother? You don't think that would be upsetting?"

"All I did," Regina snapped, "was expose him to the truth. Which, I might say, is more than you did for me when I asked you about Henry's biological father."

"Excuse me?"

"You led me to believe that he was out of the picture. In Alaska."

"He was in Alaska," Emma said, hurrying to keep up as Regina flicked the lights and proceeded down the stairs. "On business. He's back now."

"So I observed earlier," Regina said. "One can't help wondering why you didn't mention earlier that he'd be coming."

"I didn't do anything wrong," Emma gritted.

The mayor sniffed. "And you believe that I did. Well, from a legal standpoint, Miss Swan, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I didn't. Of course, you and Sidney will have a chance to get into all that at the debate."

Emma's eyes widened and her throat went suddenly dry. "Debate?" she repeated. Up on a stage, in front of the whole town, fielding pointed questions about her qualifications, her past, her… She couldn't do this. What the hell had she even been thinking? There was just no way that she could…

Regina smiled, and with a faint note of exasperation replied, "Yes, Miss Swan, there's a debate. You two can talk about jail time and juvie records and maybe even your new association with Mr. Gold. He's a snake, Miss Swan. You need to be careful who you get into bed with."

Emma blinked, as Regina put her hand down on the handle of the door leading to the first-floor foyer. "I'm not getting into bed with anyone," she snapped. "I'm just fighting fire with—"

As Regina pulled the door open a wall of flames erupted in front of them.

FIRE!