In 1999, when Emma Swan would have been fourteen or fifteen years old, Ingrid Sarah Fisher had been charged with her care in the group home she was running. She'd failed. There was a single note that after Fisher had filed paperwork to adopt the redacted name in question, the teen had run away. The next place the file picked up was with the redacted name filing a petition of her own for emancipation.

It felt like the discovery of a lifetime, something that had been sitting in front of him all this time that he'd never managed to understand, the weight of which was…phenomenal! He'd put together a few years ago that Ingrid might have been brought to town in another way, since he'd given her a loan during the Curse to start that ice cream shop of hers, that was an impossibility of someone truly cursed. But to have proof of it…and that she'd met Emma while she'd been out of Storybrooke…

He didn't know what to do with information like that. He couldn't even fathom where he could begin!

Fortunately for him, it was three in the morning. There was nowhere to begin. Oh, sure he could go rouse "Sarah" from her sleep and demand answers now, but…to what point? He needed to think, he needed to prepare himself, he needed to quiet his mind and think through his options and for that, he needed Belle.

After what he'd learned, it felt anticlimactic to close the file, to leave his office, and slip back into the bed with Belle, to let her curl herself around him on instinct and just close his eyes, but it was for the better. He fell asleep with her at his side and woke predictably a few hours later with a plan in mind, the result, he was confident, of peaceful hours at her side. But before he enacted that plan of his…

"Beautiful Belle…" he whispered, sweeping his fingers along her spine. He'd never get anything done until he roused her, and they went into town. "My darling, Belle, it's morning. I love you my sweet Belle, will you wake up for me? Beautiful Belle-"

"I might just choose to stay asleep if you keep saying such wonderful things," she whispered against his chest. She sounded coherent, but her eyes were still closed. And he knew that if he didn't shake her from this stupor she'd be back to sleep again in no time.

"We've both slept long enough."

Finally, she took a long inhale, her body stretched against him as her gaze went first to the window and then up to him. "It's not the sleep I'm enjoying," she stated before pushing herself up. She kissed him quickly, then managed to make her way from a sitting position to a standing position and disappeared into the bathroom. He wasn't sure if he was happy or disappointed that it had taken so little to get her moving.

He licked his wounds by reminding himself that they had years ahead of them to have lazy mornings in bed, but if he mastered the hat, then potentially decades and centuries. Besides, marriage meant that their time together was no longer limited to their bed or the bedroom. Not that it ever had been with them, at least not on purpose, but too often, since her reappearance, that was what it had felt like. They were ships passing in the night, taking what they could of each other while they could. But the idea of being together every morning and every evening without needing a bed…he was looking forward to making that a normal thing.

As she showered and dressed, he started the coffee and fixed her tea. He walked back down the hallway to his office and found the file on Henry that he'd been working through last week, then used magic to send it off to the safe at the store; he had plans for it later. When she was done with the shower, he used it himself and was nearly ready to finish up with some breakfast when Belle stepped in front of the mirror he was using to tie his tie and unfastened the knot he'd just tied.

"Here," she stated, pulling the blue fabric out of his hands. "Try this one."

A black tie. He was already wearing a black shirt and suit; he'd wanted the blue to offset a bit of the villainous attire, but it seemed that she, or, more likely, Lacey, had other ideas. Given that trying not to look the part of the villain was something that he'd done mostly for her, he wasn't going to argue if she wanted him to look the part.

Still, he sighed as he turned up his collar once more. "I'll never understand this fascination women have with dressing me," he commented as he watched her work. He'd meant it to be something of a joke, to harken back to Lacey and other times when she'd made fashion choices for him. But instead of watching a smile spread over her face, he was shocked to watch horror bloom as her fingers froze midway through their job.

"I'm…I'm sorry," she apologized quickly. "I didn't realize…I shouldn't have…I didn't know you minded!"

"Belle," he covered her hands with his own just as she was moving to step away from him. He hadn't realized that she would take it so personally. Frankly, he wasn't even sure why she was taking it so personally until he realized that the idea of one's bodily autonomy would always be important for both of them. She'd hate to think she was like Zelena, taking a choice away from him no matter how small it may seem. And that was why she wasn't like Zelena. She was perfect. "With others, I mind. With you…I figure Lacey gave you many great talents, and I may as well use them to my advantage, no matter how shallow and vain those advantages may seem."

Finally, the smile he'd hoped he'd see all along spread over her face, and she let out a breath of relief as he let go of her hands and tilted his chin up, pushing her to finish the job she'd started. "Well…women can dress you all they like, as far as I'm concerned," she added in a teasing voice. "So long as I'm the only one that gets to undress you."

"Night after night without fail…" he promised with a smile, happy their jovial air had returned. She smiled again before she stood on tip-toe to kiss him, and that was that. Their morning together alone in their house was over. They'd still spend the majority of their time together today, with a few exceptions he was banking on in his head, but being out and about required them to put on their public personas and prepare for visitors he was should we be all too eager to seek out their services and interrupt. Potentially sooner than he would have liked…

He drove by the shop every morning to park the car and on this morning, when he expected to glance over and find it as he'd left it, he instead found people standing outside. Familiar people…mostly…

"Rumple…"

"I see them," he confirmed before Belle could ask. Emma and Hook were waiting with an unfamiliar third person dressed in a blue gown that was far more suitable for an Enchanted Forest kingdom than the state of Maine. He had a hunch as to who it was they'd brought with them, especially given Dove's message the night before, but the moment he and Belle approached and he read the magical signature coming from her, he knew he was right.

Queen Elsa of Arendelle, sister to Anna, and niece to the woman who owned the ice cream parlor. Curious indeed.

"Ms. Swan?" he questioned, turning his gaze on Emma. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" He had a hunch, but he'd learned long ago never to do more talking than required.

"It's not a 'what' it's a 'who,'" the Savior answered with a serious expression.

"It's me," Elsa added.

"I'm…I'm sorry. What is this about?" Belle questioned with a shake of the head. He held back his amused smile. His wife did hate riddles. And Emma, it seemed, disliked having her thunder ruined given the stare she was giving her.

"You sure you want to do this in front of her?" Emma asked, looking at him. Subtlety never had been the Savior's forte. But in fairness, it had never been Belle's either.

His wife gave an irritated sigh and pulled her keys out of her bag before walking to the front door of the shop and opening it herself to let everyone in…herself first.

"Did that answer your question, Ms. Swan?" he inquired before Emma and company followed her into the shop. "Now…I'll ask you again, or else I'll have to ask you to leave my shop," he muttered, stepping inside himself. "What can I do for you, Ms. Swan?"

"You've got to be kidding me," she exclaimed, her eyes going wide. "What you can do is tell me about her!" she insisted, pointing to Elsa. "You can tell us what you did to her sister!"

Behind him, he felt Belle stiffen at the accusation but didn't worry for a second whether or not she believed them because Belle always believed him first. In this particular case, he was pleased to say that he had nothing to do with Anna. The woman next door, however…

"I'm sorry, but I haven't the faintest idea of what you're talking about-"

"The urn!" Emma growled. "The one from that room in your castle, the one with no windows, no doors…"

"The vault?" Belle questioned. "You know about that?"

Emma nodded. "When we went back in time, he sent us there," Emma explained to Belle, who clearly hadn't been listening to their tale as carefully as he had the night they wed. "Inside there was an urn, it came back with us, she came out of it! Her name is Elsa, and we heard her sister's heartbeat with that staff you gave my father, so I've been up all night trying to figure out where her sister is and the only explanation I can come up with is that you did something to Anna when you trapped her in that urn. So, I want you to tell us why you trapped her and what you did with her sister!"

Oh, he loved a good loophole that allowed him to stay just as honest as Belle wanted him to be.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but…I've never seen her before in my life."

"So, how'd she end up trapped in your urn?" Emma challenged. "Inside your secret little vault of terror?"

An excellent question because he couldn't be sure himself. He could take a guess, but as to what had happened in Arendelle that day leading up to Elsa being in that urn, he couldn't honestly say. Though he'd love to take them both next door to meet the someone he suspected was responsible just to watch their faces.

However…if he honestly hadn't had anything to do with it and they were here instead of next door…

Rock troll magic…he remembered that being present on the day in question. Ingrid had stolen Elsa's memories. Or so he theorized…

"Look, if you really want to know how she wound up there, she's standing right beside you, Miss Swan. Why don't you simply ask her?"

"She did," Elsa replied. "But I can't remember; something happened to my memories."

"Well…" he sighed, "an all too common affliction around these parts…pity."

That, too, was honest. If she'd remembered, he would have loved to watch that family reunion play out, especially with Emma in the room now that he knew what he knew.

"But as you can see many objects fall into my possession," he explained away. "Urns, necklaces, all manner of things, I can't know the history behind all of them."

Another truth. There were several things in this shop that he had no memory of and could provide no history for, that was just part of the Curse. His life in the Enchanted Forest had afforded him the same luxury.

"Only if there's something in it for you, right mate?" Hook snarled in his direction. Also true. And potentially damning. Sometimes, he made trades for random items. Other times, he made trades for ideas, knowing their value, as was the case with Elsa's urn. And he wasn't about to say what he knew about that until he knew what was going on exactly.

"Yeah, well…that may have been true once. But recently my life has been…turned upside-down. I've lost a son…gained a wife…" he turned his gaze on Belle who gave him a sympathetic smile that tugged at his heart. Always on his side…

"So, you might say, I've decided to turn over a new leaf."

Another truth. Every plan he had now starred him as the perfect husband, trying to get the hat to free him from his dagger so he could be that perfect husband for as long as possible. Outside of that hat, he had no intention of involving himself unnecessarily in the Charming Family Drama that followed the Savior.

"Don't forget about my superpower," Emma responded suspiciously. "I'll be able to tell if you're lying."

Unfortunately, no matter how convicted a former professional liar might have been to turn over a new leaf into the truth, there would always be doubts about dishonesty. But fortunately, he had not yet cracked the secret of the hat and the dagger, and he had one surefire way to prove to anyone, even if Emma saw through his loopholed honesty with that superpower of his, that he was telling the truth.

"How about I do you one better?" he offered. "Let's simply have Belle use the dagger on me."

"Wha-No!" Belle shrieked, grabbing at his hands. "No! Rumple, you don't, you don't have to do that-"

"No, no, Ms. Swan wants proof, and I'm happy to cooperate," he stated, staring at Emma. But it was far more for Belle's benefit than her. After their conversation this morning, he knew she wouldn't like being his alibi, not again. But it was necessary. Until he knew if their family had ties to the hat and why it had dropped into his lap, he couldn't afford to be the one left out in the cold.

"Fine," Belle breathed before turning to her bag and pulling the fake dagger free. Given the number of times this had come in useful in the last few days, it wasn't exactly giving him reason to encourage her to hide it. Though given the look that Hook was giving him at her action, they might need to have a talk about being a little more discreet…

Beside him, Belle held the blade firmly in her hands and looked him over. "I command you…Dark One…to tell them the truth."

Apparently, he'd also have to find a way to teach her to ask him more specific questions he could more easily get around so he could only lie by omission. If she'd been holding the real dagger, that command would have been too broad and wouldn't have worked. But as it was, she wasn't holding the real dagger.

"The truth is…just as I said. I had no idea there was someone inside there. I know nothing about Elsa…or her sister."

A lie and two truths to cover it up so that hopefully Emma wouldn't notice. He might have known Elsa was in the urn when he took it, but he didn't know anything about Elsa or her sister, not for sure at least. Speculation and theory were not comparable to knowledge. Not to him.

"But I wish you the best of luck finding her."

And hopefully, he'd have a front-row seat to that reunion.

Ick. Some chapters don't translate well for any number of reasons. This one is all on me. There was a lot going on in this chapter, lots of characters to balance, lots of inner dialogue from Rumple, lots of quick thinking...so it came out as a chapter that was only "meh" in my mind. Perhaps you think differently?

Thank you Rsbeall12 for your review on the last chapter. Even if it's only "meh" I'm hoping there will be enough "new" here to hold your interest. And if it's not the "new" then maybe it's something familiar. I do love some Rumbelle banter. They're cute when it's just the two of them and they're teasing. Peace and Happy Reading!