A/N: Reference is made to S1E22—A Land without Magic.

Credit to James Pylant's article, "Weaselhead, Devil and Drunkard: Surnames Originating as Insults," found on the Genealogy Magazine website for teaching me that Holsapple is an Anglicized version of Holzapfel or crab apple, a surname that was sometimes 'gifted' to one with a sour disposition. Since Leroy's canonical surname is unknown, I've given him one.

Thanks to the Runblogger website for helping me select a good trail shoe for Neal.

The song "Emma Jean's Guitar" was written by Gary Harrison, Jeff Hanna, and Matraca Maria Berg. Recorded by Chely Wright on her Let Me In album (MCA 1997).

Slight time-shift, since I had Henry eat the turnover during school hours. Rewatching the episode, it seems as though most of the action happens at night. Welp, mea culpa, and chalk it up to this being an AU, but it's daytime in this fic!

Chapter 56

It was real. It was all real. Henry was right, had been right the whole time. While she… Emma thought a silent apology to her son and promised herself she'd make it up to him when he recovered. If he rec— She was not going to finish that thought. Henry was going to recover. Or there would be Hell to pay.

Running footsteps sounded behind her, and a frantic voice demanded, "Where's my son?"

Raw fury seethed and boiled in Emma's gut. Hell might not be here, but Regina was. She whirled on the mayor with a vicious snarl. "You," she growled as she lunged for her quarry. "You did this!"

Regina had been relaxing in her living room with a cup of El Salvadorian coffee and savoring its notes of green apple, caramel, and prosecco. There hadn't been any coffee in the Enchanted Forest, or at least, not in her kingdom, nor in any she'd traded with. She'd thought to herself that this was one more advantage that this land had over the one she'd left twenty-eight years ago. True, the absence of magic had made it difficult to contrive a way to rid herself of the Savior, but she'd found a way around that, and that called for a celebration.

The cup had been half-finished when the call from the hospital had come. Regina remembered running for the front door, stopping only to set her cup down on an end table on her way. It might have crashed to the floor; she neither knew nor cared. All she could think about was Henry. Henry, unconscious and in critical condition, Henry in the emergency room, Henry and everything that the medical staff wasn't telling her over the phone. Henry.

She'd felt like it was someone else getting into the Mercedes and driving like a madwoman. Somewhere as the back of her mind was the stray thought that she was exceeding the speed limit, but her son was in the hospital, and really, it wasn't as though there was much danger of Ms Swan pulling her over to ticket her. Either the woman was on her way out of town, or she'd already left. Or, perhaps, she'd already sampled Regina's parting gift to her. Either way, the soon-to-be former sheriff was no longer a difficulty she needed to deal with. The only thing that mattered was Henry.

She slammed into a parking spot and hurried through the emergency room doors, demanding to see her son.

She was utterly unprepared for the angry blonde tornado that slammed into her carrying her into a storage room and pinning her against the wall, as it savagely growled, "You did this!"

It took her a moment to process that the tornado had a name. "What the hell are you doing?" she cried, struggling in Emma Swan's grip. "Stop this! My son—!"

"—is sick because of you!" Emma yelled over her. "That apple turnover you gave me? He ate it!"

Regina felt her blood freeze before Emma's words fully sank in. Her eyes went wide, as she blurted out stupidly, "What? It was meant for you!"

Polishing the same figurine repeatedly did little for the knickknack and less for Rumpelstiltskin's frame of mind. He needed to know whether the Savior was truly off the board, and while he had little doubt that Regina would show up to gloat at some point were that the case, he rather thought he'd get answers faster if he went to the hospital himself. At least, then, he'd know for certain. For a moment, he was glad that the changing weather had had enough effect on his ankle that he'd driven the six blocks from his house today, rather than walk the distance.

Arriving at the hospital, he evaded the emergency room. He'd learn nothing there, so long as Dr. Whale and his staff still believed that HIPAA applied within the town borders. Instead, he made his way surreptitiously toward the staff lounge. As he'd hoped, the door was ajar. He edged gingerly closer and through the crack in the open doorway, he made out a knot of hospital employees, who were clustered about the stocky figure of Leroy Holsapple as he excitedly shared the latest gossip.

"And Whale doesn't know—ah-CHOO!—what's wrong?" Mr. Clarke asked, wiping at his nose without missing a beat. Rumple wasn't surprised to see the pharmacist in the building; when the town boasted one sole member of his profession, it stood to reason that he'd be on hand to supply medications and consultations. Perhaps that affiliation also granted him, if not the designation of hospital staff, at least the courtesy of the lounge. "No," Leroy said, "he's still running tests. I saw the sheriff asking questions and then, I got a call that Sister Astr—that one of the nuns spilled a gallon of antiseptic in one of the hallways and I had to go deal with that. Whale was still trying to stabilize the kid when I left, and then when I finished up, I came here to grab a coffee."

"Is Henry all right?" Archie asked, concern plain in his voice.

Leroy shrugged. "Dunno. Whale knows what he's doing and with no other patients in emergency that I saw, guess the kid's got his undivided attention."

"So, he's going to be okay," one of the nurses said.

Leroy shook his head. "I didn't say that, Sister. I hope so, but… I just don't know."

Rumple slipped away rather hurriedly. If Henry was in the hospital, then he believed he now knew the reason for the sheriff's near-reckless driving earlier. The mayor would be here as well, ere long, if she wasn't already, and then, one of both of them would be pounding on his door. At least, he rather thought Regina would be. Henry had always been a healthy lad. He'd had the normal childhood illnesses, but never required hospitalization. For that to happen so soon after Regina's visit to his shop, Rumple rather suspected that her sleeping curse had found an unintended target. A slow smile spread across his face, as he considered how he might turn so unfortunate a situation to his advantage…

If there had been any lingering doubt in Emma's mind, about Regina's intentions, the mayor's reaction quashed it. "It's true, isn't it?"

Regina blinked. "What are you talking about?" she asked, but Emma didn't need her superpower to tell her that the other woman knew damned well what she was referring to.

"It's true, isn't it?" she repeated furiously. "All of it. The book, the curse, everything Henry's been saying all this time. It's all true!"

Regina wilted in Emma's grip. "Yes," she admitted.

Some part of her had still been hoping against hope that Regina would deny it, and that she would hear the ring of truth in that denial. "Why?" she demanded. "I was leaving town. Why couldn't you just leave things alone?"

Regina's face twisted into a mask of angry misery. "Because as long as you're alive, Henry will never be mine!"

"He'll never be anyone's unless you fix this," Emma snapped. "You wake him up!"

The anger vanished as Regina cried out, "I can't!"

"Don't you have magic?" Emma asked.

The mayor, or maybe Emma ought to start thinking of her as the Evil Queen, shook her head. "That was the last of it," she said more softly. Then furiously, "It was supposed to put you to sleep!"

Emma let go of Regina. "What's it going to do to him?" she asked.

"I don't know," Regina was whispering now. "Magic here is unpredictable."

Emma swallowed hard. If medicine couldn't help Henry, and magic couldn't help Henry, then… "So…" she said, whispering herself, "So he could…"

"Yes," Regina said, saving her from having to finish the sentence.

Emma exhaled heavily. "So, what do we do?" she asked. There was always some cure in fairy tales. Some potion or enchanted ring or clever talking animal or… There had to be something!

Regina met Emma's eyes and when she spoke, there was a new resolve in her voice. "We need help," she informed Emma flatly. "There's one other person in this town who knows about this… Knows about magic."

Emma had a pretty good idea who that was. "Mr. Gold," she said, telling rather than asking.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Regina's lips curved upwards for an instant in a fleeting smile. "Actually, he goes by Rumpelstiltskin…"

It was a bit after two when Neal ventured out of the cabin. He had to make his way back to town to ascertain whether Emma had truly left. If she had, he was going after her. If she hadn't, he was going to try to make one more attempt to convince her of the truth. Somehow.

It would have been so much easier if coming from the Enchanted Forest gave him superpowers or green blood or… No. No, he knew how stubborn Emma could be. August could probably show her that he was turning back to wood and she'd convince herself he was some amputee. There had to be some argument that would stick!

He was still pondering this as he stepped onto the road—and almost immediately jumped back, as a green Cadillac sped past him. His pulse was racing. That driver had nearly hit him! He hadn't caught a glimpse of the person behind the wheel and found himself wondering idly if it had been Jefferson. The car had been coming from the direction of his house.

"Hope it was a real emergency, buddy," Neal muttered. "Because to me, it sure looks like you're speeding to an accident."

He was shaking his head as he got back onto the road and started the long walk back to town.

Magic is real, Emma repeated in her head, as she drove down Main Street ahead of Regina's Mercedes, her emergency lights blinking as she made her way to Gold's shop. Henry's been right all along. His adoptive mother is the Evil Queen, I'm the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, Gold is Rumpelstiltskin and—

—Neal was telling me the truth. Which means that everything I ever thought I knew about him was a lie. How the hell can I trust him now?

On the heels of that realization, came another thought: I have to tell him about Henry!

She pulled into a parking space in front of Gold's shop and yanked out her phone. She turned it on and groaned as it informed her that there was a new update available. "Not now!" she snarled, pressing down hard on the word 'later' on her screen. Either her fingertip was sweaty, or her screen had chosen the worst possible time to get temperamental on her, but the update notice refused to disappear. "Seriously?" she muttered. Not really thinking, she pressed down hard on the button to turn off her phone. Then she groaned. Why the hell had she done that? The phone was only going to go through the update later.

There was a loud tapping at her window. Regina was staring in, her expression a mix of impatience, anger, and fear. Emma slid her phone back into her pocket. Henry needed her. Or he needed magic. Or… Whatever he needed, it wasn't something that Neal could help with and Gold—apparently—could. She would talk to Gold first, and call Neal afterwards. Not too long afterwards, Emma promised herself. Until twenty-four hours ago, the hardest thing Neal ever had to forgive me for was hiding the fact that I'd had a child with him that I gave up for adoption. He'll probably be able to forgive me for panicking and handcuffing him to a cell door, though I might have to fix a lot of tacos for him to soften him up first. But if anything worse happens to Henry, and he doesn't find out about it until it's too late, he'll never forgive me for that.

She unfastened her seatbelt and got out of the car. Regina said nothing, as she strode in the direction of the shop door as quickly as her stiletto pumps would allow. Emma followed.

Emma wasn't answering her phone. Neal couldn't say he was surprised, but he was disappointed. He'd swung by the house, and been relieved to find that Emma's bags were still there. A frown knit his features. He knew the signs of a rushed departure when he saw one, but if she'd left her stuff behind, then that departure hadn't been over the town line, after all.

So, where was she? And what had happened?

For a moment, he remembered the whole Mary Margaret business. If Papa had kidnapped Emma to keep her from leaving… He froze. If Regina had actually carved out her heart for real… If she'd done that, he'd never killed anyone before, but really thought he could. It wasn't like she had magic here, and if she didn't have magic, he could probably take her.

He was getting ahead of himself. Maybe Emma had just decided to take Henry to… the lake, or that playground, or something, to say goodbye. A nagging voice told him that she wouldn't have rushed out as recklessly as the overturned chair and the crooked doormat—not the only signs of a hasty exit, but definitely the most obvious—suggested. Emma had never been a neat freak, but she wasn't that sloppy either. Something had happened. He didn't know what, but he could either wait around here for her to come back, or he could drive around town looking for her. At least, he knew that she was still in town.

Probably.

He wished she hadn't taken Herbie with her, though. The town wasn't really that big, but he'd already done a lot of walking today. "Well," he muttered, "that guy at the New Balance outlet told me these MT10s were the best lightweight trail shoes on the market. Guess today's when I find out if he was telling the truth."

Rumple re-entered the shop the back way and hung up his coat in the office. It wouldn't be long, now. He turned to examine one of the guitars hanging on the wall and smiled a bit. He'd never noticed the name etched in the finish of the 1950 Gibson: Emma Jean. Idly, he wondered whether the savior had a middle name. And then she was hurrying into the shop, Regina hot on her heels and from the look in her eyes, Rumple knew that she'd accepted the truth. It was about time.

And it appeared as though he might be able to get the Savior to perform the favor he needed without his having to cash in the one she owed him. His gaze found Regina's. "I told you," he said, gloating just a little, "magic comes with a price."

Another time, another place, he might have giggled to see her so humbled, but he was a bit older, a bit wiser, and he had a son of his own for whose wellbeing he would do anything. Still, when Regina pointed out that the price wasn't Henry's to pay, he wasn't above twisting the knife a bit and pointing out that, while it ought to be her, fate had chosen otherwise in this case.

"Can you help us?" Emma demanded.

With a mental sigh, Rumple stepped out of the verbal sparring match—it was a bit one-sided this time anyway—and smiled. "Of course," he replied. "True love, Ms Swan. The only magic powerful enough to transcend realms and break any curse. Luckily for you, I happen to have bottled some…"

Neal avoided Main Street. He didn't want to run into Emma—assuming she was still in town—until he'd worked out how he was going to convince her of the truth. Until he could do that, the last thing he wanted to do was pass Granny's or the sheriff station. Instead, he took a route that led him through a residential area. He smiled when he saw a familiar figure.

David returned the smile as he lifted a large suitcase into the back of his pickup truck, grunting a bit as he got it off the ground.

"Here," Neal hurried over to help. David thanked him. "Going somewhere?"

David nodded. "Wait. You lived in Boston, right?"

"Uh… yeah," Neal answered, wondering whether the past-tense was really accurate. "Still might," he added. "Why?"

"Because," David said, "as soon as I get the truck loaded up, that's where I'm headed. Kathryn put a down payment on an apartment in…" he pulled a folded sheet of paper out of his pocket, "…Allston? Do you know that area?"

Neal nodded. "Yeah, it's near Boston University. Kind of funky, a lot of good music and restaurants. You two are moving there?"

David shook his head. "Just me, actually. It was going to be Kathryn; she got into law school there, but now she's staying and I'm… leaving."

Neal frowned. "I'm sorry," he said. "That's rough."

"Not really," David said. "I-I mean, I know I loved her once, I must have, but since I woke up from my coma, I never really connected with her the way I used to. I thought maybe Mary Margaret…" His face clouded over. "Guess I wrecked that, too." When Neal nodded sympathetically, he sighed. "I need a fresh start," he said. "Storybrooke isn't very big. If I stay here, not a day's going to go by where I don't run into one of them, probably both. It's better this way."

Although Neal kept nodding, he felt his heartrate speed up. The Curse was still in effect. David wasn't going to get far. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to get injured in the process. Even if the Curse wouldn't kill him—and Neal had no way of knowing whether that was the case—it had already kept David in a coma for nearly thirty years! "Sure you don't want to sleep on things?" he asked. "Maybe in the morning—"

"—I'll still feel the same way," David said firmly. "Or I'll keep going back and forth and never do anything. That's how I messed up my marriage and my relationship with Mary Margaret in the first place. I have to make a decision. Right, wrong, it doesn't matter. I have to choose something and this is it." He hesitated. "But if you wouldn't mind telling me a bit about the city, where to go, where not to go, people you know who might be hiring, I'll take all the advice I can get."

Anything to keep him here a little longer. "Sure," Neal said. "Let's go inside and I'll tell you what I can." And maybe by then, he'd also have some idea how to confront Emma, too, though something told him that he'd probably have an easier time convincing David to stay in Storybrooke!

Emma eyed the long blade on Gold's counter with a stunned expression. "My father's…?"

"David Nolan," Gold confirmed calmly. "I do believe you're already acquainted."

Emma flinched at that, but her voice was calm, as she replied, "Why do I need this? Whoever it is I need to get your… magic from, if I have to fight them, wouldn't a gun be more effective?"

Gold shook his head. "Not against this sort of foe, dearie. She must be bested with cold iron. I'm afraid that the lead or copper ammunition your other weapon requires would be worse than useless in this circumstance."

"B-but I've never used a sword before," Emma protested, even as she reached for it. It was a beautiful weapon, its ornamentation elegant and understated. She picked it up experimentally and was surprised at how comfortable it felt in her hand.

"You're holding it wrong," Regina informed her.

"She is not," Gold replied, "though I daresay your former instructor would agree with you. There's more than one way to grip a sword and the Savior's is as valid as your own."

Emma, who had been examining the sword with something approaching reverence, looked up sharply. "Wait. I'm going to have to kill someone?"

"While that's not inevitable," Gold replied with a smirk, "It is rather likely. Particularly, if she's in the form I believe she is. Of course," he continued, "you could try reasoning with her, but I wouldn't waste too much time at it."

Emma looked from him to Regina. "Who exactly am I going up against?" she asked.

Regina opened her mouth to reply, but Gold interrupted. "Time is of the essence, Savior. Regina can fill you in on the details along the way. Oh, and as magic is unpredictable here, if your son is to have his best chance, it wouldn't go amiss if you were to stop by the hospital on your way to whisper words of encouragement." He smiled. "Think of the effect they had on your father."

"You mean, it might wake Henry up?" Emma asked hopefully.

"Doubtful. But it might give him the strength to hold on a bit longer."

Regina took her elbow. "Come along, Sheriff," she snapped. "I think we're done here."

"Wait!" Emma exclaimed. She dug into her pocket for her phone. "Neal doesn't know about any of this. He should be here. Or at the hospital. Or—"

"Don't worry yourself, Savior," Gold replied calmly. "I'll inform him myself." He gave her a reassuring smile. "Like you, he'll doubtless have questions and you haven't the time to waste answering them. I do."

Emma nodded. "Okay, thanks. And Gold? Could you please… tell him I'm sorry about before? He'll know what you mean."

Regina tugged at her elbow and they were out the door almost before he could nod.

Alone once more, Rumple smiled. He would contact Mr. Cassidy, of course—once the Savior's mission was accomplished. Right now, though, he needed to work fast, if he was to be where he needed to be at the proper time. And really, he didn't want to have to waste time answering useless questions either.

He quickly locked the front door before making his way to the shop's back entrance, where his Cadillac awaited.

They didn't linger long at Henry's bedside. Regina scowled when Emma placed a call to Mary Margaret, but stifled her protest when Emma reminded her of what Gold had told them. "I know she won't wake up Henry, but this can't hurt and it might help." She frowned. "Did you really give her a poisoned apple because your mirror told you she was prettier than you were?"

"I thought you'd read Henry's book," Regina sniffed. "There's a great deal more to that story than you think you know."

"There always is, isn't there?" Emma asked.

"Come along, Miss Swan," Regina said. "It's not far and the faster we retrieve Gold's magic, the better Henry's chances."

"I-I should speak to August," Emma said. "I need to apologize to him for not believing him."

"There isn't time for that," Regina said, gesturing toward Henry.

Emma nodded miserably. "Also, I know Gold said he'd call Neal, but I think—"

"He's a man of his word, Miss Swan," Regina told her tartly. "Let's go."

Emma was out of the emergency room, around the corner, and halfway down another hall before she realized that Regina wasn't following her. Frowning, she doubled back and met Regina coming around the corner. The mayor had furious expression on her face. "I didn't know I'd got so far ahead of you," Emma said. "What happened?"

Regina shook her head. "Nothing. I was waylaid by someone I had neither the time nor inclination to deal with right now. Where's that sword?"

Emma blinked. "I-I left it in the car; I didn't think I could bring it inside the hospital."

Regina nodded slightly. "Very well," she said. She took a breath. "You know where we're going?"

Emma nodded back, as she proceeded toward her yellow bug.

The door of the clock tower was locked, but Regina furnished a key. Emma looked around. She was standing in a library much like the ones she'd occasionally visited as a child. Old-fashioned card catalog drawers and dusty shelves of books surrounded her. "What is this place?" she asked.

"Would you like a tour, or should we just get to it?" Regina demanded.

Now wasn't the time for an angry retort and Emma swallowed hers. "Lead the way." Her eyebrows shot up when Regina placed her hand on one of the walls and it lifted to reveal an elevator beyond. "Whoa."

Regina gestured to the elevator. "Get in."

"After you," Emma replied and Regina shook her head impatiently.

"It's a two-man job; the elevator's hand-operated. I have to stay up here and lower you down.

"And I'm just supposed to trust you?"

The mayor didn't take offense. "I don't think you have much choice in the matter, Miss Swan."

Emma's frown deepened, even as she accepted the point. "This battle I'm supposed to fight," she said. "Who is it? What is down there?"

"And old friend," Regina said heavily, but she wouldn't give Emma a satisfying answer to why she wouldn't go down there herself.

There was no time to argue, not with Henry's life in the balance. Emma exhaled. "Okay," she said, keeping her tone even. I will go down there. But let's be clear about something, Your Majesty. The only reason you're not dead is because I need your help to save Henry. He dies? So do you." She'd never killed anyone before, but in this moment, she knew she was capable.

Regina seemed to intuit the same thing, for she said only, "Well then. Let's get on with it. Now this is what you're going to have to do…"

Emma nodded at the instructions and tried to focus, but worry and rage kept them from truly sinking in. She didn't really need details, she supposed. She was going down that shaft with a sword and a gun. Whoever this old friend of Regina's was, she didn't think that they were about to sit down for coffee and bear claws. She got into the elevator and tried to channel her anger toward the task that awaited her.

When the elevator doors opened again, Emma found herself facing a dimly-lit cavern. Not exactly your typical library basement, she thought, as she made her way past a coffin that seemed to be made of glass. What was this place? She turned to look around and the wall behind her shifted and moved.

One glowing red eye opened.

The first thought that sprang into Emma's head was, That is no wall.

As the scaly head lifted, a second, horrified thought shrieked through her mind.

DRAGON!