A/N: Some dialogue copied and tweaked from S2E4: The Crocodile.

Chapter Seven

"I know you always did have some affection for my daughter," Moe said. The teacher's lounge was empty and the coffee in the carafe was old and acrid, but it was still better than the rotgut ale he'd drunk in his carousing days.

Crane smiled. "She was an apt pupil," he said. "And I wasn't that much older than she was. But she was your daughter and sole heir, and I was a landless knight with a bit of a scholarly bent. While I enjoyed being her geography tutor, she was your daughter and as such, I understood her political value." He smiled sadly. "Whatever my personal feelings might have been, I knew better than to set any romantic sights so high, and she certainly never lowered hers to look in my direction."

Moe shook his head. "She might have," he said. "She respected your knowledge. And apart from her mother, you were one of the few people in the castle with whom she could have an intellectual conversation. If it hadn't been for the Ogre War and the need for a strategic alliance, I might have considered such a match. But there was that need, so I did as I thought I had to and you know what happened afterwards."

Crane pressed his lips together and nodded. Lord Legume's aid had come too little too late. The Dark One's had come at a higher price—one Belle had met stoically. "She was magnificent," he murmured.

"But she never came home," Maurice said. "After she left, I sent a spy after her. Oh, not to the Dark One's castle; that would have been idiocy. But the town nearby… I had someone stationed at the local inn with instructions to report to me if he caught a glimpse of her. It was almost a year before he did, but that first report had her at the grain merchant's buying a load of straw. And then, a week later, he told me that she'd been seen talking with a party of adventurers in one of the taverns and when they left, she went with them."

"On a mission for the Dark One?" Crane asked. "Or did he…?"

"Free her?" Maurice finished his sentence. "I don't know. From a conversation she had with a passing dwarf, it sounded like she was on her own. It seems she saved King Hubert's boy from an enchantment, but after that, she never returned; not to the Dark One and not to me. And then the Curse… I don't know if it brought her here, but if it did, now that it's broken, the fact that she hasn't come looking for me is worrisome."

"You think that the Curse may have returned her to the Dark One."

"Or that the months she spent with him… My daughter has a good heart and a great deal of faith. And she was raised on stories of pure-hearted maidens charming black-hearted rogues. At the time, I saw no harm in such fantasies. As you mentioned a moment ago, most noble marriages are strategic alliances and I couldn't see how it would hurt her if she went into such an arrangement believing that love would come in its course if she applied herself to making the marriage work. More fool I," he continued bitterly. "If she sees it as her mission to change him… I don't have to tell you how stubborn she can be, Crane. I've no idea where she gets it from."

Crane was prudent enough not to suggest that on that score, if no other, Belle was very much her father's daughter, but it took everything he had not to smile too broadly. "You said you had a mission for me, my liege?"

Moe nodded. "I've asked the sheriff to see if she can find my daughter. If Belle is here, the town isn't that big. I've little doubt that she'll turn up, with or without the sheriff's aid. If the only reason she hasn't come back to me is that she didn't know how to find me once the curse broke, then well and good. And if he truly freed her, then there's reason to hope. But if she's gone back to the Dark One, if her time as his captive has turned her mind and stoked her sympathies, sending her heart on an erring path," he heaved a great sigh, "then, Crane, I want you to take her where the Dark One cannot follow."

Morning dawned far too soon and the sun's rays filtering through thick tree limbs woke the Merry Men and their guests far too early. Neal and Henry joined Friar Tuck in foraging, both to supplement breakfast at the campsite and stockpile for the trek back. Neal tried to show Henry what to look for and how to tell pokeberries from blueberries, but he realized that the boy wasn't paying close attention.

"Henry," Neal said, "you need to know this. If we somehow get separated, it's important for you to know which plants are safe and which ones will kill you!"

Henry rubbed at his eyes. "Sorry."

Neal took a good look at his son, noting with concern the dark circles under his eyes for the first time. "Did you get any sleep last night?" he asked.

Henry smothered a yawn. "The ground's kind of hard," he admitted.

"How about the night before?"

"Ground's kind of hard," Henry repeated quickly.

Neal frowned. "Well, we'll be out of it soon enough, but meanwhile, we'll gather up some grasses and leaves and stuff for bedding tonight." He thought about Regina. She'd certainly slept some last night, but the ground probably wasn't that comfortable for her either. "Lady Wilma could probably use it too," he added, remembering Regina's alias.

Henry nodded and moved toward a plant with clusters of small white flowers. "Not those!" Neal exclaimed, grabbing Henry's arm. "I told you before: that's giant hogweed! Get any of the sap on your skin and it'll cause bli…" His voice trailed off as he realized that Henry had gasped in pain at his touch. "Hey," he said in a different tone. "You okay? I-I didn't mean to be rough; you just scared me is all."

"I'm fine," Henry said quickly, massaging his arm.

"Wait," Neal said. "I didn't grab you that hard. Let me see—"

"No! Don't!" Henry cried, as Neal pushed his sleeve up.

Neal's breath caught. The now-exposed skin on Henry's arm was red and puffy. He yanked the sleeve up further and a shocked expletive burst from his lips. "When did that happen?" he demanded in horror.

Crane's mouth gaped open for a moment and his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed. "You mean for me to take her over the town line."

Moe nodded. "You'll both revert to your cursed personas with no memory of any other life. That's why this isn't an order."

"I-I see." Crane took a swig of his coffee. "I think there's a problem with that plan. You were just telling me that you assumed your daughter was here, but you haven't actually seen her. I can't say that I recall clapping eyes on her since the day she left your castle. So, if we didn't know each other under the curse and we cross the town line… there's a good chance that as soon as we do, we'll each have no idea who the other one is."

Moe winced. "I know. It's one reason I can't be the one to take Belle myself. If we forget each other, we'll forget who we are to each other. I worry that if our love transcends the Dark Curse, that curse may yet twist it into something," his lip curled and his voice dropped almost to a whisper as he forced out the last word, "vile."

Understanding dawned in Crane's eyes.

"I don't know who my daughter might be under the Curse, but if her love of books survived, then I suspect that the two of you won't be entirely incompatible."

"I'm a music teacher," Crane said. "Most of my books pertain either to the lives and works of great composers or to instruction in the art."

"It's something anyway," Moe said. "Though I grant you the memory loss is a problem that must be got round."

Crane frowned. "I-I suppose I could write down a page or two. Not about Misthaven, of course, but just enough to tell me how your daughter comes to be in my passenger seat. If she's calm enough to hear me out instead of screaming in terror, that might be enough."

"Belle's never been as delicate as that," Moe said. "You'll do it then? If such measures prove warranted?"

"I," Crane swallowed. "I'll think about it tonight and let you know my answer in the morning. My liege," he amended quickly, lowering his eyes in embarrassment at the omission.

Moe wasn't offended. "If you do," he said, "you'll be doing me a great service and if there's anything you require to establish yourself on the other side, or if you've any friends or family remaining here in need of aid, you've but to ask."

Crane shook his head. "I've nobody, my liege. And as for the rest of it, I suppose I can print a map of the area outside of town as well as the next person, but a bit of money won't go amiss." He smiled nervously. "I've no idea whether there'll be work enough for a music and voice instructor out there and even if there is, it may take time to find it."

"Done."

Regina smoothed out her clothing as best she could. Really, if Snow and the others were sending her here, they might at least have given her something better suited to the environment. As elegant as Versace was, it was ill-suited to the elements and dry cleaning would never get these dirt stains out!

Magic still wasn't working. She thought she could understand why, though. Too many failed attempts had rattled her confidence and now, her uncertainty was tripping her up. She needed to believe her magic would work, but after twenty-eight years of disuse and her recent unsuccessful experiences had rattled her confidence. She needed something to jog her memory. A spellbook, perhaps. She doubted that her new companions had anything of the kind; any fool could see they hadn't a scrap of magic between them. Perhaps, in this 'safe haven' place they'd mentioned, things might be different.

"Lady Wilma?"

Regina blinked, realizing that Robin Hood had been trying to get her attention. Really, she needed to remember to answer to her new alias! "I'm sorry," she said, putting on a gracious smile. "I suppose I was lost in thought. What can I do for you, sir?"

"I'm no sir," Robin replied, smiling back. "And I was only wondering if you'd care for some breakfast. It's rough fare compared to what you're probably used to, but it's hearty enough."

She recognized the substance in the bowl and reached for it, coaxing more warmth into her voice. "I've eaten my fair share of porridge before," she said. "Thank you."

As Robin handed her the bowl, Regina noticed the black escutcheon tattooed on his wrist and her eyes widened slightly when she recognized the design within.

"Does something trouble you, Lady Wilma?" Robin asked.

Regina swallowed. "That looks as though it must have been painful," she managed, her eyes fixed on the lion tattoo.

Robin shrugged. "It was at the time, I suppose, but I'm more than happy with the results. Still, I thank you for your worry," he added gently.

Regina did her best to keep smiling, even as she knew that as soon as Neal and Henry got back, she was going to insist that they left for Safe Haven at the earliest convenience!

It wasn't until later that evening that Moe realized he had one message and several missed calls on his phone. After he'd played the message back, he called the sheriff station. "You work fast," he said, when Sheriff Swan picked up. "Oh," he said, when the sheriff told him that she'd been trying to get in touch. "I've been doing a bit of my own investigating. Truth is, even under the curse, I found these phones annoying. I don't usually have mine on. But you said you found her? Where is she?"

There was a moment's hesitation. Then the sheriff asked a question.

Moe frowned. "Uh… yeah. Tomorrow morning at eight. My house. Or I could go to her now. Oh. I-I see. All right then. Tomorrow morning. Thank you, Sheriff."

He ended the call and his smile dropped away. The sheriff hadn't given him Belle's address. To his mind, that could only mean two things: his daughter was still with the Dark One and the sheriff remembered the circumstances of his encounter with that monster. But for her to have left Belle with him, his daughter must have convinced the sheriff that she was there willingly. Moe shook his head sadly. It would seem that his hoped-for reunion would be short-lived. But at least he would see her again, one last time.

He called another number. "Crane. Regarding our earlier discussion, I know I agreed to give you until morning, but I'm afraid that those drastic measures will be required." He smiled at the quick reply. "Thank you," he breathed. "Be at my house at ten to eight tomorrow morning. Don't park in front of the house. And although once you're over the town line, if you remember me at all, it will be only as the local florist, I hope that on some level in some way, you'll know that you have your liege's gratitude."

After he disconnected that call, Moe sat in his armchair for a long time. He thought of the Belle he'd last seen and wondered just when she'd stopped being the sweet, obedient child he'd used to know. He was doing the right thing. He knew he was. And even if Belle wouldn't understand it, he knew that there was no other way to protect her. And Crane was a good man. In time, he did think that Belle might grow to love him. And if she didn't, then there would doubtless be someone else in the world outside Storybrooke.

He didn't know that he'd get much sleep tonight, but he went upstairs to bed anyway.

Regina's thoughts were whirling. She knew that tattoo. The little moth had shown it to her once and she'd dared for one shining moment to hope that her life might be better. She'd let her fear of taking a new, uncertain path keep her on the miserable, familiar one she was already treading and put all thoughts of a brighter future from her mind.

Now she had a second chance.

For one instant hope flared once more in her breast before it flickered and died. Robin Hood might be a thief and an outlaw, but every word that fell from his lips proclaimed him to be a hero. Oh, he wasn't as insipidly good as Snow White and her charming-but-dull prince. There was an edge to him that made her think that he might not mind a bit of Darkness. Thirty-eight years ago, had she listened to that fairy and taken a leap of faith, her life today might look entirely different. But in those thirty-eight years, her Darkness and her anger had only grown stronger. She'd lost innocence she hadn't thought she'd possessed the first time she'd seen that tattoo.

Once, Robin Hood might have been her match. But now? Now, he was too good. Or she wasn't good enough. It made no difference which. She could admit to herself that she did feel an attraction and, when he smiled at her, she felt a not-unpleasant flutter. Perhaps, he felt the same way now. But how long would it be before the Evil Queen surfaced anew?

He wouldn't want anything to do with her then.

She wasn't looking for True Love anymore. Love was, after all, weakness. And a distraction she scarcely needed. No, the best thing to do now would be to part ways. For Robin and his men to go back to their keep, while she and Henry continued on to this 'safe haven' place. She didn't particularly care where Neal went once they were out of this forest. If he continued with them, she supposed he could still be useful, and if he chose to join Robin, then once they were back in civilization, she and Henry would do without him. One way or the other, she had to get out of here. And as soon as Neal and Henry returned to camp, she'd take them aside and tell them.

Emma rubbed her eyes and looked at the time. It was after eight. Sheriff work wasn't really nine-to-five, but today had been slow enough that she'd spent part of the day with Gold, and a couple of hours driving Belle around town, before coming back to the station where there were always a few papers she could shuffle or charters to read through.

The truth was that she just didn't want to go home. Neal wouldn't be there. Henry wouldn't be there. Her parents—she was still getting used to having them, not to mention having them be so young—might be camped out on her doorstep, but she wasn't ready to deal with that right now. Her feelings were still all over the place and she'd already seen that Mary Margaret was a hugger.

She couldn't handle a hugger right now, not even if part of her could have really used a hug. She had to be strong; she had to keep herself together. She couldn't do that if she let her emotions overwhelm her.

Even if her parents weren't waiting for her, she didn't want to go back to a house where Neal's clothes still hung in their shared closets and Neal's coffee mug was still in the drainage tray by the sink. She didn't want to think about how quickly she'd pushed him away.

She'd needed space to process. Well, she had plenty of that now.

And she'd trade that in a second to have him and Henry back.

Gold was working on that and as much as Emma wished she could help, she had no idea how to even begin. She hated sitting on the sidelines. She wanted to do something.

But for now, it seemed as though all she could do was paperwork.

She got up, poured herself another cup of coffee, went back to her desk, and reached for another file.

She'd go home soon, she promised herself. As soon as she was too tired to do more than collapse into bed the minute she walked through the door.

She'd drunk more than half her coffee before it occurred to her that an influx of caffeine probably wasn't going to get her any closer to that goal and she mumbled an epithet under her breath, but she still drank the rest of it.

When the caffeine wasn't doing enough to keep her alert, it would be time to go home.

"We have trouble," Neal said without preamble. He turned to Henry. "Show her."

Hesitantly, Henry pulled up his sleeve and Regina's eyes widened.

"May I?" Robin was suddenly close by. He shook his head. "That's a nasty burn, lad. Looks to be a few days old. How came you by it?"

Henry's forehead creased. "I don't know," he said. "I was asleep a-and I was dreaming of a red room. It was hot and smoky and there were flames shooting everywhere, and when I woke up…"

Friar Tuck inspected the burn with a clucking sound. "Your tale has a sound of magic to it," the cleric said, as he anointed the wound with a layer of greasy salve. "I know something of healing, but see?" The ointment he'd been rubbing onto Henry's arm slid off as though it were water. "I'd say this would need a magical remedy."

Consternation creased Regina's features. "All right, then," she said tersely. "Are there any magical healers hereabouts?"

"As to that, my lady," Robin said, "I can't be certain. It's likely you'll find a person like that in Safe Haven, but I don't frequent it often enough to be certain. There is magic there, or so I've heard, but I can't tell you the sort." He sighed. "Ironically, the keep where we bed down now was once the holding of a Dark Wizard. He hasn't been seen since the mists carried everyone else away. My men and I have no truck with magic. I've found the price it comes with is oftentimes more than I'd care to pay. For that reason, we've kept ourselves well away from anything that smacks of a workroom or laboratory, staying in the courtyard, great hall, and other places that appear, well," he smiled, "ordinary. And in the months since time began moving again, we've none of us turned to mice or brought down a storm or demon, so I would imagine our precautions are working."

The faint smile on his lips died. "I don't know if any magic remains in the areas we've yet to poke about in, but these burns are no minor matter. If there's anything there that would help him, I feel as though if you recognize it, you're welcome to it."

Regina frowned. "You wouldn't know if there are any books of spells or magical lore in your… keep?" she asked carefully. "From what I know about magic, it's not the kind of thing to go blundering in half-blind."

"Alas," Robin shook his head, "that's not a question I can answer. As I said, we haven't explored it fully. And I must admit, having partaken of the Dark One's treasures once and barely escaped with my life, I'm somewhat loath to do so again. I shouldn't want to run the risk of summoning him back again inadvertently."

Neal's eyes grew wide. "Dark One?" he repeated.

Belle held the flat, smooth rectangle with some trepidation. "I-I'll never remember how to use this," she said. "If I need to reach you, then I've but to speak your name, and for anyone else, surely I could just send a messenger, as I've always done."

Rumple smiled gently. "I think you'll find that because of these," he gestured to the phone she was holding, "messengers are in far shorter supply here than they used to be. More to the point, there are going to be times, even with me, when it may be difficult to drop whatever it is one is doing to hurry to your side, when a quick exchange of ideas is all that's warranted."

Belle lowered her eyes. "I feel so ignorant," she mumbled. "All the things everyone here takes for granted because of these false Curse memories that I never got. It's like I'm running a race and I was held back from even getting out of the gate until everyone else was four furlongs ahead."

"I quite understand," Rumple nodded. "But you will catch up. Here. Once again. Turn the device on and bring up your contacts. There are a number of names other than mine that really ought to be in there." He glanced at the time. "Sheriff Swan should be here within the next few minutes, but that should be time enough to, at the very least, enter a few of them."

Belle hesitated a moment before she pressed the power button and smiled in relief when the phone's screen lit up as it had before.

"Are you sure they can't hear us?" Regina asked, trying to make herself heard over the rushing of the nearby stream while still speaking softly enough that her voice wouldn't carry.

"Wish our phones worked here," Neal said. "We could text."

Regina's eyebrows shot up and she reached into her pocket. After a moment's fiddling with her phone, she shook her head. "The battery's dead," she said in disgust."

"Yeah, so's mine," Neal said. "I checked last night. To answer your question, they can't hear us, but keep an eye on the camp. Robin's talking to Henry. Little John and Much are packing up the dried venison, Alan's playing his lute, Gilbert's fletching arrows, and Tuck's standing guard over there," he pointed. "If any of them start heading our way, say something. I'll try to keep an eye on them, too. I know they said they'd let us talk things over in private…"

"But you don't necessarily trust them not to eavesdrop either," Regina nodded. "I agree."

Neal smiled. "So," he said wryly, "my father had a castle."

"He did," Regina confirmed. "I gather from your surprise that he acquired it after your departure?"

Neal nodded. "We were living in a hovel in the Frontlands. Once Papa became the Dark One, I guess you could've called it a hut, maybe even a house, but not a castle."

"Well," Regina said after a moment's thought, "before that revelation, I was under the impression that our chances of finding out what's causing Henry's injuries would be better in Safe Haven, but if Rumple's left his books and equipment behind—"

"Honestly?" Neal said with a frown, "I doubt it."

"But you're not certain."

"Papa always tried to prepare for what was coming," Neal said. "Taxes, a long winter, shortages, plague… We never had much, but whatever we did have, he tried to store for later use. According to Henry's book—come to think of it, I think it might have said something about a castle; I guess that slipped my mind—Papa learned how to see the future. And he knew the Curse was coming; he was counting on it. Add in that he was planning from the start to introduce magic to a Land without Magic and," he sighed, "I'm willing to bet that anything that he had that could have helped us? Is either sitting in his basement, stuffed in his shop's back room, locked in his safe, or out on display. It's somewhere in Storybrooke anyhow."

Regina exhaled. "If you're wrong…"

"I know," Neal said heavily. "But the other thing? Robin and his men have been in Papa's castle for months. Papa worked too hard and lost too much to be what you'd call tolerant of thieves. Beggars, yes; he'd give his last coin to a hungry man who asked for it honestly, but if he'd left anything behind worth stealing, he'd have put some kind of protection around it. I'm sorry, Regina, but if there's an answer, I don't think we're going to find it there.

Regina smiled with both resignation and relief. "Well, then," she said brightly, "I suppose we're off to Safe Haven, then." And well away from a complication she neither needed nor wanted right now.

Neal nodded. "If there are any answers to be had about Henry's condition," he agreed, "it sounds like that's the best place to look for them. Let's get back to camp," he added, as he saw Tuck tilt his head back toward the camp and then turn and walk in Robin's direction. "Looks like they might be just about ready to check up on us."

"I'll be fine, Emma, thank you," Belle said the following morning. "My father may not like Rumple, but he'd never do anything to harm me."

"Okay," Emma said, smiling back. "Hey. Good luck."

Belle nodded. Then she squared her shoulders and made her way up the front walk to the door of the house. She knocked once. The door opened and Emma watched Moe French fling his arms about his daughter and Belle return the embrace. Mission accomplished. She went back to her car and waited five minutes. When the door didn't open again, she drove away.

"Oh, I've missed you, Belle," Moe said, as he ushered her into his kitchen.

"Father," Belle said warmly.

"Once the Curse broke, I knew I had to find you, to learn if the Dark One was still holding you captive—"

Belle shook her head. "He wasn't holding me captive. In fact, he freed me even before the Curse struck."

Moe blinked. "I'd heard rumors… But then, why didn't you come back to me?"

"I couldn't," Belle said. She hadn't wanted to; after her adventure with Mulan, she'd been on her way back to the Dark Castle, but her father didn't need to know that. "Regina locked me up in her castle. And when the Curse came, I was her prisoner in the asylum beneath the hospital."

Moe gripped both of her hands in both of his. "If she hadn't already been exiled, I'd…"

Belle shook her head. "It doesn't matter anymore, Father."

"No," Moe agreed. "No, it doesn't. You've come back to me. Come upstairs. I'll show you your room. It's a bit bare-bone at the moment, but once we've added a few things to make it look homier, it'll be—"

"Father," Belle interrupted, "I-I won't be staying here."

Moe's eyebrows climbed. "But if you were living in the asylum until now, where else will you go?"

"To Rumple," Belle said firmly.

"I thought you said he freed you."

"He did," Belle smiled. "But you see, I want to be with him."

"Are you saying," Moe's face twisted into a pained expression, "that you've fallen in love with that monster?"

Belle nodded. "He's no monster, father. Not here. Not even back in our land. There's goodness in him; it was just… buried deep for so long. Now… now he's trying to let it come out again."

"No," Moe said flatly. "It's a lie; a deception… Belle, you must promise me that you won't see him again."

Belle shook her head. "No. No, I'm not a child anymore!" she fought the urge to stomp her foot.

"You don't understand what he'll do to you!" Moe snapped. "What he's already done!"

"I know about Valentine's Day," Belle retorted. She took a deep breath and continued in a more reasonable voice, "He told me. But it was because he… remembered the past before the Curse broke, and Regina had told him I'd gone back to you and you'd…" She swallowed, "had clerics try to… to… purge his influence from me until I leaped to my death from one of our turrets."

Moe was shaking his head. "Regina! Regina! She has much to answer for, daughter, but the blame doesn't just belong on her shoulders!" He slammed his hand down on the kitchen table.

At the prearranged signal, the door on the opposite wall opened. Belle started. She'd noted the door when she'd come in, but assumed it must lead to some pantry or broom closet. But no, she could see sunlight streaming in and realized that it opened on some sort of greenhouse. And framed in the narrow doorway was a tall, gangly man, all knees and elbows, with a long narrow nose and a prominent Adam's apple. "I-is everything all right, sir?" the newcomer asked.

Moe took a deep breath. "Fine, Crane," he said heavily. "I'm afraid you've walked in on a reunion that… wasn't everything I was hoping it would be."

Belle shook her head. "I'm sorry this upsets you, father. Maybe we… we both need to calm down." She pulled her new phone out of her pocket. "I'll call Emma and ask her if she can… meet me here." No point antagonizing her father by telling him specifically that she was going home to Rumple.

"Belle," Moe sighed. "I'm sorry, too. You remember Crane, don't you?"

Belle smiled. "Yes, of course. Hello, Sir Crane. It's… been a time."

Crane swallowed hard. "Uh… y-yes," he stammered. "Y-yes it… it has."

Moe tried to smile. "Well. I'm sure that the sheriff has other duties. Crane does deliveries for me. Suppose I have him take you where you need to go." He looked at his former knight. "You don't mind, do you?"

"N-no. No, of course not," Crane said with a nervous smile. "Now?"

Moe shook his head. "There's that arrangement for Peter Peter's, up by the town line. Take the van up there first, and then you can take Belle wherever." He glanced at Belle.

"Would that be all right?"

Belle nodded, softening a bit at his conciliatory tone. "Yes," she said, smiling a bit at Crane. "That would be fine. I'll come by again in a day or two."

Moe shook his head. "Whatever you may think of me, daughter, I hope you'll remember that I love you."

"Of course. And I you."

She hadn't seen much of the town yet. At first, she enjoyed the drive. The houses and shops gave way to farms and cabins, with fields and pastureland in between. She was almost sorry when she saw the sign indicating to turn right for Peter Peter's Pumpkin Farm.

To her surprise, Crane continued straight.

"Uh… shouldn't you have turned off here?"

Crane swallowed hard. "Er…"

"Sir Crane?"

For a moment, Crane seemed to be frozen, his eyes on the road, his hands on the wheel. Then, he pressed a button on the panel in front of him and Belle heard a loud click. At the same time, she felt the van accelerate.

"What are you—?" Belle's voice caught as she realized that another sign up ahead was now close enough for her to read: Leaving Storybrooke.

NO!