A/N: Maine enacted mandatory fingerprinting and background checks for teachers and educational personnel in 1995.

Some dialogue lifted and some tweaked from S1E16: Heart of Darkness and S1E17: Hat Trick.

Winston Blythe's name is not canon, but we don't actually know Happy's Curse Name, or what he was doing for a living before the curse broke.

Chapter 45

It was Kathryn's heart. Emma couldn't say that the news came as a surprise, but damn, she'd hoped that there was some other explanation. Right. Some other explanation for a heart in a jewelry box. Sure. Maybe Disney was filming a live action remake of Snow White around here, and they needed a (totally realistic-looking) prop heart for the huntsman to present to the queen, and it had somehow fallen out the back of the truck when they were done filming for the day. Of course.

She suspected that the only reason her mind had gone there was because Henry kept bringing up Snow White every chance he got. Meanwhile, the results were in, Kathryn was dead, and her heart had turned up in Mary Margaret's jewelry box—a detail that definitely disproved the movie theory. Emma sighed. She was going to have to break it to Mary Margaret this morning.

"What about the hair and the fingernail?" she'd asked.

"We matched the hairs to David Nolan," the answer came. "Still running tests on the fingernail. Unfortunately, we don't have everyone's DNA on record."

Emma frowned. "But you have everyone's fingerprints?"

"Well, not everybody, of course," the technician replied. "Obviously, we have records for anyone brought in on criminal charges. Also, teachers and other educational personnel, caregivers…"

The technician continued his recitation, but Emma's mind was already elsewhere. Mandatory fingerprinting for teachers certainly explained why Mary Margaret's fingerprints would be on file. "Thanks," she said, interrupting him. "Let me know if anything else turns up."

The next call, which came almost as soon as she'd hung up the phone, was from the DA's office. "Tomorrow morning?" she repeated. She knew about the right to a speedy trial and all, but she hadn't thought that it would be that speedy. Mary Margaret's arraignment was less than twenty-four hours away. From there, she would be sent out of Storybrooke to stand trial in a matter of days!

She had to talk to her. Even if Gold didn't want her to have more contact with Mary Margaret than absolutely necessary, there were some things that Emma knew she'd rather hear from a friend.

But first, she was going to stop off at Granny's and get her a decent breakfast.

Mary Margaret was already looking miserable when Emma showed up at the sheriff station with a short stack of pancakes and a side of sausage for her breakfast. Her face fell still further when Emma told her that the DNA of the heart Ruby had found was a match for Kathryn's. "All this evidence tells me one thing for certain," she continued. "That you are being framed. And I think Regina's behind it."

"Then why am I still in here?" Mary Margaret demanded. "Why don't you confront her?"

Emma sighed. "Because belief isn't proof. If I can find evidence to support my belief, that'll be a different story." Mary Margaret started to protest and Emma barreled on, "If I don't do this right, things will end up worse for you. Every time I've gone up against Regina, she's seen it coming, and I've lost."

"So, what makes this time any different?" Mary Margaret asked skeptically.

Emma smiled. "Because, this time, she doesn't know I suspect anything."

"Why would she do this to me?" Mary Margaret asked, sounding as though she might be about to cry.

"I don't know," Emma admitted, "but I'm going to find out. And I promise, I won't stop until I expose what she's up to."

Mary Margaret tilted her head to one side. "And how are you going to do that?" she demanded. "This is her town."

"I'm working on it," Emma said. "I have faith in you. And now, I need you to have faith in me." Mary Margaret was clutching the bars of her cell with both hands. Emma covered one of them with her own. "Can you do that?" she asked.

"Of course," Mary Margaret said, but Emma could tell that she didn't. Not quite. Not really. Not that Emma blamed her for it, but it still pained her. "Sorry," she said. "I know it's a rough start to a lousy day—"

Mary Margaret laughed bitterly. "You told David he and I could have a few minutes alone?" she asked.

Emma frowned. "Yeah, he asked me this morning while I was waiting in line at Granny's." Truth was, she'd ordered the short stack and sausage instead of opting for a muffin or sandwich in order to give them a bit of extra time, after putting a quick call through to the custodian to let him know to let David in. (She'd hired Winston Blythe on Leroy's recommendation, and so far, she hadn't been disappointed. Blythe might like happy hour at Granny's a little too much, but happy hour ran from five to seven, and he came in to clean the station in the early morning, long after he'd sobered up.)

"Yeah, well, if he asks you again, tell him 'no'," Mary Margaret sighed. "Last I looked, 'cruel and unusual punishment' was still forbidden under the Eighth Amendment."

"Ouch," Emma murmured. "That bad?"

Mary Margaret sighed. "Worse…" She squeezed Emma's hand tightly as she went on to elaborate.

Emma was still seething in sympathy for Mary Margaret when she stepped into Gold's shop. The schoolteacher needed more friends around her now, and David joining the ranks of the accusers when he'd so recently been under suspicion himself was a new low. Especially, Emma thought to herself, if Kathryn's murder really was a two-person job. Emma had absolutely no sympathy for people who let their partners take the rap for their crimes while they escaped justice. She wouldn't want to stay with a person like that and she had nothing but respect for Mary Margaret for feeling the same way.

For a moment, Emma considered that David might genuinely not remember if he'd colluded with Mary Margaret, but then she remembered how Ruby had described him when she'd stumbled on him down at the toll bridge. You didn't plan a murder when you were sleepwalking. Maybe you could carry one out, but not to the extent of overpowering a victim, dragging her away from her car, and either carving out her heart or holding her still so someone else could. No. Maybe David was innocent, but if he was involved, then he'd known what he was doing.

Of course, if he was guilty, well, there weren't very many people out there who could fool her lie detector, but if he believed he was telling the truth, then that was a different story.

What the hell was she thinking? For David not to know if he was a murderer, he needed to have some… pretty serious mental health issues—which wouldn't preclude his being a murderer, but you'd think she'd have noticed! Well either that, or some sort of self-hypnosis, but that was… insa—Sorry, Archie, she thought quickly, and drew her focus back to the purpose of her mission.

Gold wasn't behind the counter, but when Emma called his name, he came in at once from the back room. "Just taking inventory," he greeted her. "What can I do for you, Miss Swan? Any developments in the case I should be aware of?"

Emma took a breath. "Bad news, I'm afraid. The heart Ruby found was Kathryn's." She looked at Gold, carefully gauging his expression for signs of concern, but his face
betrayed nothing as he gave a slight nod. She took another breath. "I still haven't had the results from the crime lab on the fingernail," she continued, "but I know. She's being set up." Whether by Regina, David, or the both of them somehow remained to be seen, but she knew Mary Margaret was innocent.

Gold snorted at that, and now he did smile. "And this surprises you?" he scoffed. "Show me evidence, and we'll get this over with immediately."

Emma sighed. "Yeah, well, that's the thing. So far, there isn't any. I'm hoping the lab report will change that, but until it comes back…" Her voice hardened. "But even if it doesn't," she went on, "Mary Margaret didn't do it. I know that now."

His thin smile broadened and Emma thought she saw a glint of approval in his eyes. "Look who's suddenly become a woman of faith." His eyes narrowed. "Why are you here, Miss Swan? To spin conspiracy theories?"

Emma took another breath. "I need help."

"From me?"

His voice was way too innocent, but Emma bit back the acid retort she wanted to make and pushed on. "Every time I've gone up against Regina," she admitted, "I've lost. Except for once, when I became Sheriff. When you helped." She didn't really believe that David had anything to do with this, apart from being a lousy friend after the fact, which wasn't a crime even if it felt like it ought to be. Besides, if he was involved, Emma didn't think it would be nearly as hard to bring him to account as it would be Regina.

"As I recall," Gold pointed out, "you don't exactly approve of my methods."

She didn't, but that was beside the point. "I approve of your results," she said. "And this time, I have something more important than a job. I need to save my friend."

Gold met her eyes with an intense gaze. "And you're willing to go as far as it takes?" he pressed.

Emma didn't blink. "Farther."

Gold's smile was back and it was even wider. "Now we're talking. Fear not, Miss Swan. Powerful forces may be at work in this town, but something tells me you're more powerful than you know."

After leaving the shop, Emma headed out on patrol. Driving always calmed her nerves, and with everything that had been happening recently, she needed to relax. She found herself driving down quiet residential streets, and off to the farms that dotted the outskirts, even checking out the cannery. After she was sure she'd driven up and down every inch of Storybrooke at least twice, and some areas more, she stopped off for dinner at Granny's.

The supper rush was in full swing when she got there and it was dark before she stepped out of the diner and back into her car. Her route home took her past the sheriff's station. On impulse, she turned into the lot. Now that Gold had agreed to help her, she was hopeful that this whole sorry incident would be over soon, and that Mary Margaret would be exonerated. And while she didn't have any concrete details to share, with her friend facing arraignment in the morning, Emma thought that she might try to buck up her spirits. She doubted Mary Margaret was getting much sleep tonight.

As she exited, she saw a black Cadillac pull into the spot behind her. Face expressionless, she watched as Gold got out. "I suppose great minds think alike, Miss Swan," he greeted her."

"Excuse me?"

Gold shrugged. "Miss Blanchard is my client. I presume that you're here to bolster her spirits, just as I am."

Emma hesitated only for a moment before sighing. "Okay, you got that right," she admitted, bristling at his too-knowing smile.

"Well, then," Gold said pleasantly, stretching out his arm as though to usher her into the station. "Shall we?"

Neal was relaxing in front of the television, watching an old episode of Hardcastle and McCormick when his cellphone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and smiled. "Hey, gorgeous," he greeted her. "Coming home soon?"

"You still wanna be deputized?" Emma asked, clearly in no mood for gentle flirtation.

Neal turned off the TV. "If you need me out there, sure. What's up?"

"Mary Margaret's gone," Emma replied.

Neal shook his head in confusion. "You mean, they've already moved her to county? I thought the arraignment was going to be here."

"It is," Emma said. "But she's not. Her cell's empty."

"She's running," Neal realized. He took a breath. "Sit tight; I'm on my way."

"Good thing I got club sandwich trios for supper," Emma sighed. "If you make it to the station in the next few minutes, your fries'll probably still be warm."

He was there in less than fifteen minutes to find Emma leaning against the wall by the empty cell. "Anyone else know she's gone?" he asked.

Emma sighed. "Henry and Gold."

"What?"

She sighed again. "I stopped by to check on her and found Henry waiting for me. He thought," she rolled her eyes ceiling-ward, "I helped her escape. And in case you need to hear it from me," she added, "no, I didn't."

"I believe you," Neal said at once. "What about Gold?"

"She's his client," Emma reminded him. "He was going to talk with her about the arraignment."

"And she wasn't there when you came in."

"She wasn't here when we came in," Emma repeated. "The arraignment's at eight tomorrow morning. If we don't find her by then…"

"She'll be screwed," Neal finished.

"Yeah, and if we're caught helping her—either of us, but especially me—we'll be, too."

"We gonna let that stop us?" Neal asked, his tone casual.

"Hell, no," Emma retorted. "I'd rather lose my job than my friend."

Neal grinned. "Just making sure we're still on the same page."

Emma's answering smile was fainter, but it was tinged with relief. "Our best, and her best chance, is still convincing her to come back and—"

"—trust the system?"

Her smile dropped. "I wish you hadn't put it that way." She shook her head. "I wish I wasn't part of the system."

"But that puts you in a position to help her, right? I mean, help her within the system."

"I hope so," Emma said. "But with all the evidence coming in, there's not a whole lot I can do. Not legally."

"Well…" Neal said, "You can always officially undeputize me. That'll give me a little more leeway, if I find her."

For a moment, Emma's smile returned. Then her expression hardened again. "It's a nice idea," she admitted, "but we can't go that route. No," she went on. "You take Herbie. I'll take the squad car. You're better with the woods than I am, so you cover everything west of Main Street; I'll go east toward the ocean. The plan has to be to try to convince her to come back and face the music." She winced. "I don't see her lasting long out there as a fugitive."

"Okay."

"I mean it, Neal," Emma continued. "If you're going to help, we've got to do this by the book. I don't want to find out later that you smuggled her out of town or something."

"You won't," Neal assured her. "I get you."

He waited for her tight smile of comprehension. He might still help Mary Margaret escape, but if he did, he was going to make damned sure that Emma didn't find out about it!

It was like looking for a needle in a haystack, Neal reflected, as he drove through Storybrooke's wilderness park. He didn't really expect Mary Margaret to stick to the road; if she had any sense, she'd take one of the hiking trails, where a car couldn't go. If it had been him, he would have left the trail entirely, opting to take his chances in the thick undergrowth, but if Mary Margaret didn't know how to get her bearings, she'd likely wander in circles, and if she didn't know how to hunt or forage, her best bet would be to find her way to Route Six and follow it out of town. At least, if she was thinking rationally, and not running scared.

The trees were clustered thickly and it was a foggy night. After a few more moments, Neal sighed and pulled over to the side of the road. Taking a flashlight from the glove compartment, he got out and stooped to examine the side of the road. He wasn't surprised that he found no tracks. He waved the light upwards, checking whet the vegetation had been in any way disturbed. He didn't believe so, but it was hard to tell. He proceeded on foot, pausing every few steps to see if anything looked amiss.

So intent was he on his task, that he didn't realize the tree he'd slapped his hand on wasn't a tree until it emitted a startled grunt and toppled. Unprepared for his support to give way, Neal barely had time to process that he'd just inadvertently shoved a man over the edge of a gully before he tumbled down after him, instinctively flinging up an arm to protect his eyes from the twigs that beat at his face and snapped off as he crashed through them.

"Are you all right?"

Neal groaned and opened his eyes to the anxious face of a man in his mid-thirties, who was bending over him. He tried to move his limbs gingerly, noting almost in passing that he seemed to be lying on hard ground, with a tree root pressed uncomfortably into his back. After a moment, he grunted and managed to sit up. "Nothing seems broken," he said. "I'll probably ache tomorrow." His flashlight hadn't gone out when he'd fallen, making it easy to spot barely a foot away. He reached for it and flicked it off to conserve the battery.

The man chuckled. "I guess I'll feel the same way," he said. "Though the fact that I broke your fall may make me feel better about it."

In a rush, Neal realized why he'd awakened outdoors, flat on his back, and was currently sitting on the forest floor in the middle of the night."I am so sorry," he said. "I-I didn't realize anyone else was out here and I thought I was leaning on a tree and…"

"At six feet tall, I get that a lot," his companion said easily. "No real harm done. What are you doing out here at this time of night, anyway." Before Neal could answer, the man's eyes widened. "Hey. You're the sheriff's… husband?"

"Not yet," Neal said easily. He thought fast. Obviously, the fewer people who knew that Mary Margaret was on the run the better. He couldn't tell this guy the truth. But what other reason could he have for being on foot in the woods? There shouldn't be much in this area besides trees and wild animals. A memory surfaced in his mind. He'd been in Alaska when Emma had first come here. And when she'd been driving back to Boston… "We had someone call into the station about a wolf in the area. I'm… kind of the outdoorsy type, so Emma asked me if I wouldn't mind checking it out."

"A wolf?" the man repeated. "And you're out here alone?"

"Yeah, well, it's probably someone letting their German shepherd off-leash in the area for a run. Even if it's not," he shrugged, "most wolves are pretty shy of humans, unless the human does something stupid like feeding them regularly, or getting between a mama wolf and her cubs. Anyway, I wasn't planning to confront one; I was just seeing if I could find any tracks or… scat or something."

"At night?"

"I've got a day job." He held out his hand. "Neal Cassidy."

The man took it. "Jefferson."

"That a first name or a last name?"

"It's…" Jefferson stopped. "Here. Let me help you u—Oof!" He staggered and dropped to one knee.

"You're hurt," Neal exclaimed, scuttling over to examine his new friend's leg.

"I just landed wrong when I hit," Jefferson groaned. "I don't think it's serious." He struggled to rise, gasped, and sank back down.

"Better let me help you up," Neal said, making sure that he looked at the tree trunk before using it to brace himself this time, just in case. Once he was standing, he held out his arm to Jefferson once more. "I'm only parked a couple of hundred yards from here," he said, turning on the flashlight again and noting with relief that the ground was sloping upwards gently only a few yards from where they'd fallen. Getting back to the road wasn't going to be difficult at all. "I can give you a lift to wherever you were going."

Jefferson sighed. "I don't live far from here, but much as I want to think I could probably tough it out on my own," he winced, "I'm not really that stoic. Thanks."

"Turn here," Jefferson directed, and Neal's eyes widened as he took in the enormous mansion looming before him. "Who else lives here with you?" he asked.

A shadow seemed to pass over Jefferson's face. "Nobody," he said, as Neal parked on the side of the drive. "It's just me."

Maybe Neal only imagined the note of bitterness in his companion's voice. "Better let me get you inside, then," he said, already getting out of the car.

"Thanks," Jefferson said, leaning heavily on Neal, as they made their way up the walk and then up the stone stairs to the front door.

Once they were inside, Jefferson invited Neal to have a seat. "I don't know about you," he went on, heading for another door at the opposite end of the room, "but I could do with some tea."

"Want some help?" Neal asked, starting to get up. "If your ankle's twisted, you should probably be resting…" His voice trailed off. Jefferson wasn't limping now. In fact, his step, as he moved across the sitting room, was quite spry.

Jefferson turned to face him and his smile seemed to freeze. He took a step toward Neal, affecting to totter and bent over slightly, his hands sliding under his jacket as he gripped his midsection. Then he straightened and shook his head sheepishly. "Oops," he said. "Guess you caught me."

"Huh?" Neal's eyes grew wide as he realized that Jefferson's right hand now gripped a tiny handgun. Beretta 3032 Tomcat, his brain supplied automatically. He might not be able to carry a gun, but in his work as a bounty hunter, he'd made a bit of a study of them. "What the hell—?"

"This would have been a lot easier if you'd just drunk my tea," Jefferson said evenly. "But since you didn't…" His voice hardened. "On your feet. Keep your hands where I can see them. Now, we're going to walk upstairs, nice and slow."

"You're making a huge mistake," Neal said, as he moved to comply. "I'm not just Emma's fiancé; I'm her deputy. Once I miss a check-in, she's going to come looking for me."

Jefferson chuckled. And then, in a voice that though soft, still succeeded in chilling Neal to the bone, he replied, "That's what I'm counting on."