Chapter Five

Neal didn't have long to wait for the answer to his question. As he watched from above, two men silently broke through the cover of the trees to approach the fallen deer. Neal frowned. He should have heard them before he'd gotten this close to them. They were good.

"A fine shot, Robin!" Neal heard one of them say. "We'll eat well tonight!"

The second man, whose name appeared to be Robin, nodded. "Bring the pole and ropes. We'll clean it back at the campsite…" His voice trailed off, and he cocked his head with a frown.

"You hear something?" the first man asked.

Robin didn't reply for a moment. Then he smiled. "Probably just my imagination. The pole, Little John."

Neal pressed himself as close to the tree trunk as he could. It seemed to take hours until they had the deer's front and hind legs bound together and ran the pole between them. Then, the two men hoisted the pole aloft letting the deer hang upside-down. It swayed slightly as they headed back into the trees, making slightly more noise this time.

Neal waited until he was certain that they were gone. Then he slid down the tree trunk and began the trek back to the campsite.

"You're saying that Mary Margaret is able to communicate with Henry?" Emma exclaimed.

Gold hesitated. "In theory," he said. "Understand this, Sheriff: a true sleeping curse—not a sleeping spell, mind you; those are fairly common and far easier to lift—is not cast often. I'd venture to say that it's been done perhaps a dozen times in the last century. As far as I know, your mother and your son are the only two currently living souls who have ever awakened from one." At Emma's surprised blink, he smiled. "I wouldn't be that surprised, Sheriff. Besides the one who created that curse in the first place, I only know of one other with the knowledge to cast it, and unfortunately, that's Regina."

Emma shook her head. "But then, how do you know that Henry and Mary Margaret might be able to…"

"Well," Gold said, "not long after your mother awakened from hers, she and your father paid me a visit. It seemed that since her awakening, she'd been dreaming of being trapped in a burning room."

Emma waited. "Okay…?" she said when Gold remained silent. "I-I mean, as nightmares go, that one's probably up there with freefalling or getting up to give a speech and realizing that you're naked, right?"

"Indeed," Gold allowed, "but when one dreams of being in a fire and awakens with second-degree burns, I think you'll agree that that's rather different." He smirked when her eyes widened. "I know a great deal about curses, dearie," he went on, "but that after-effect wasn't one I'd encountered before. It required a bit of research on my part before I could come up with a means of counteracting it."

Emma leaned forward. "But Henry won't have that," she said, with a horrified look.

Gold sighed. "No, he won't," he agreed. "Not until his return. If Regina has her magic back and access to the proper components, she might be able to create the necessary charm, but when dealing with magic, there's very little margin for error. As vivid as dreams may be, when one awakens, details may be lost or forgotten. And while magic and chemistry differ in many aspects, when it comes to getting the components and their ratios correct, I think you'll find that on that score, they're very much alike." He sighed. "From the glazed-over look in your eyes, you're either extremely tired, or lacking a background in chemistry."

Emma winced. "Do I have to pick one?"

Gold sighed again. Then he reached for a notepad and pen. "Nitric oxide," he rapped out, as he wrote the letters NO on the sheet. "A gas naturally produced within the body. While it can boost cardiac health in controlled amounts, it can also cause cell and tissue damage in excess. When exposed to air, oxygen, water, or moisture, it easily reacts to form nitric acid and nitrogen dioxide, both of which are toxic and corrosive." He waited for Emma's nod, before he set the pen to the page again. "Now," he continued, "Nitrous oxide," this time he wrote N2O, "well, that's often used as an anesthetic, and I'm told it may have some… recreational purpose as well. You may know it better as laughing gas."

"Okay…" Emma said, trying to follow and hoping he wasn't going to test her later.

"Imagine," Gold suggested, touching his pen to the second formula on the page, "that the latter compound was one of the necessary components. Now imagine that we were to tell this to young Henry, and when, upon awakening, he dutifully relayed the message to Regina, he either misheard or misremembered and told her," he tapped the first formula, "the former." He let that sink in. "There is information that we can relate to him, assuming that your mother is able to connect. I would, however, recommend against relaying complicated spell recipes to one without the magical grounding to understand what he's being told."

"But if Regina knows magic…" Belle interjected, and Rumple turned to her and shook his head.

"Regina is a powerful spell-caster," he said. "Or she will be, when she remembers how to use her magic again. However, she doesn't always question where she must. If she's given a list of components, she's likely to gather and use them without once questioning whether she ought to." He smiled. "If I were to give you a recipe for sponge cake, Belle, I rather believe you'd hesitate to follow the instructions it if it seemed to you that I'd included ground beef amongst the ingredients. Even if you'd never made such a cake before, I'd like to think you'd notice something awry. When it comes to Regina, I don't know that I could confidently make that assumption."

Emma rose to her feet. "Sounds like I'd better talk to Mary Margaret."

"In the morning," Gold said. "If she's to have any sort of useful dream, she'll need to be in the proper mindset for it. And she won't be if you awaken her at," he gestured to the clock on the opposite wall, "half-past three in the morning." He smiled. "Go home, Sheriff. Try to get some rest before the sun rises. Whatever might be needed to bring our loved ones back here, we'll accomplish it better if we can do so after at least a few hours' sleep."

Emma stifled a yawn. "Guess you're right," she said, heading toward the door. "G'nite, Gold." She nodded to the others. "Belle. Jefferson."

"Emma. It's fairly late. If…" Emma waited for Gold to continue. For a moment, she thought he might be offering to let her sleep here. She wasn't sure how she'd feel if he did. But then, he gave her a weary smile and shook his head. "Drive safely."

Regina greeted him with a glower on his return. "It took you long enough," she snapped. "And I notice you haven't brought any food back with you."

Neal shook his head. "I can see you're not a morning person," he said wryly. His half-smile fell away entirely. "We have trouble." Briefly, he relayed what he'd witnessed. "I thought the Curse brought everyone to Storybrooke."

Regina looked stunned. "It was supposed to!" she said. "Either the people you saw came from another realm entirely and traveled here during the last twenty-eight years, or someone was able to avoid being caught up in the Curse when it struck. But anyone who could do that would need magic on my level, at the very least."

"How many names would you know of on that list?" Neal asked, and Regina looked thoughtful.

"Of people who were alive at the time?" Regina asked. Without waiting for a response, she continued, "Maleficent and Rumple, both of whom were brought to Storybrooke. Same with the Blue Fairy." She shook her head. "Whoever it was would have had to know the Curse was coming in order to evade it. That information wasn't common knowledge; if it had been, there would have been a great deal more unrest in the kingdoms."

"Mobs storming castle gates," Neal nodded. "Swindlers selling charms purporting to ward off Dark magic. People who wouldn't normally risk stealing from a wizard giving it a shot, hoping to find some spell that would give them a chance."

"You've lived through trying times before," Regina remarked.

"Yeah," Neal shrugged, "but I've also got an imagination. And I saw how folks in my village and others in the district behaved when the drafts for the Ogre War intensified. People who didn't have five coppers left after taxes were selling themselves into service for charms that would protect them or their children from the Duke's recruiters, or barring that, charms that would protect a soldier on the battlefield." His expression turned bleak. "I never heard of a single case where any of them worked."

For a fleeting instant, something that might almost have been sympathy flitted across Regina's face. Then her lip curled back scornfully. "I'm not interested in your sob stories," she snapped. "I'm interested in knowing who these strangers are!"

"Right," Neal said. "And until we do, we might want to think long and hard about how much we tell them. My father made a bunch of enemies over the years. So did you. And right now, we're alone in a forest with no magic and no weapons beyond sticks and stones. Not exactly the best circumstances to go demanding a show of fealty, Your Majesty."

Regina nodded grimly. "I take your point." She thought for a moment. "The people you saw, did they strike you as nobles?"

"Not really," Neal admitted. "The clothes didn't look fancy. Of course, nobody with any sense wears silks or satins in a forest, and armor's kinda noisy and smells rusty. All the same, if they were noble I didn't see any crests on their clothing. If I had to guess, I'd say they were probably common folk. And I didn't see anyone use magic either."

"While it's not a guarantee they don't have it, let's assume for now that they don't." She sighed. "Well, I suppose the wise thing would be to act as peasants for now. And since you've got more experience at it, I'll let you do the talking when we meet them."

Neal nodded. "I guess we should pass ourselves off as a family," he said.

Regina sniffed. "You and me? Together?"

"Henry already calls us Mom and Dad," Neal shrugged, glancing briefly at his son and giving him a smile. "It's probably safer."

Regina shook her head. "I wish that didn't make as much sense as it does."

Henry nodded. "I wish we could use code names instead."

"Actually, we should," Neal said, remembering something. "I used to call my parents Mama and Papa. I think in some part of the land kids used Mother and Father, but I don't know if anyone here says Mom or Dad. He glanced at Regina. "What do you think?"

Regina considered. "I suppose the former would be easier to explain away in the event of a slip-up," she allowed. And considering her complicated relationship with her own late mother, she wasn't sure she'd be comfortable with Henry addressing her as the latter. "But Henry, your father's right. Try not to slip up."

Henry grinned. "You mean my papa, don't you?" he asked.

Neal ruffled his hair as Regina glared.

Mary Margaret's face curved into a welcoming smile when Emma pounded on the door of her loft at ten past seven that morning. "I'm so happy to see you!" she said, and Emma could hear the undercurrent of excitement in her mother's voice, even if she was trying not to gush. "We were just going to sit down to breakfast; may I set a place for you?"

Emma let Mary Margaret lead her inside, but food was the last thing on her mind. No sooner did the door close behind them than she blurted, "Do you still get nightmares about being stuck in a burning room?"

Mary Margaret blinked. "I-I haven't for some time now. Why?"

As Emma explained, her mother's eyes grew wider. "But if you don't have those dreams anymore, then..."

"I could," Mary Margaret said slowly. "I'd need to be in a pretty deep sleep, and someone would need to pull me out of it if I got stuck again, but I could." She saw the hope rising in her daughter's eyes and gripped her hand tightly. "And I will."

Emma hated feeling useless, but she didn't know enough about magic to help Gold and, having never been under a sleeping curse, she couldn't help Mary Margaret reach Henry. Her parents had gone off to Clark's pharmacy in search of something that would help her enter a deep enough sleep without 'chancing the sort of long-term consequences that True Love's Kiss won't fix' (Mary Margaret's exact words). David had invited her to come along, but Emma couldn't see how her presence would help anything.

Instead, she went to the sheriff station. She still hadn't finished the paperwork on Kathryn Nolan's file and, even though she had a suspicion that nobody would care if she never did now, it was something to do that would, hopefully, get her out of her own head for a little while at least.

It wasn't helping.

She had been staring at the same page for a solid ten minutes and had no idea what was written on it. Glowering at the paper as though her frame of mind was somehow its fault, she focused once more on trying to read what was typed there.

Her eyes were on the third line (she still didn't know what she was reading), when she heard the front door open and, a moment later, a man she recognized strode in. "Sheriff Swan?"

Emma set down the report and tried to smile. "Good to see you're doing better, Mr. French. What can I do for you?"

Moe French locked steely eyes on hers. "I need you to find my daughter, Sheriff. She disappeared years ago, and I can only hope she's here in Storybrooke."

Despite herself, Emma felt a surge of excitement as she moved her computer mouse to dispel the screen saver and brought up a blank missing persons report. A new live case beat the paperwork on an old resolved one any day. "Let's start with the basics," she suggested. "Her name?"

"I don't know what it's been for the past twenty-eight years," French said gruffly, "but it's Belle."

Emma's fingers froze on the keyboard for a moment. "Belle?" she repeated. "I…" She stopped. She couldn't know for sure that the Belle she'd met yesterday was his daughter. The Curse had given everyone new names and most people were keeping them, at least for now. She was going to make damned sure she wasn't jumping to conclusions before she started raising false hopes. Or being responsible for raising another mob; something tells me this guy might be able to get people as riled up as Whale did. "Sorry," she said. "Is that with an 'e' on the end?"

"Yeah," French nodded.

"Okay. Uh… I, uh, really just found out that this whole… curse thing was real a couple of days ago, and I admit I don't know much about what happened back in, um, Misthaven…?" She waited for French to nod. "Okay. So, just to be clear, when I'm filling out the report, I guess, give me the details as best you remember, even if you remember them from… before."

French nodded again. "All right," he said, sitting down stiffly in one of the chairs before her desk. "What do you need to know?"

"Let's start with the basics," Emma repeated, then made a face when she realized that she was repeating herself. "How old is she?"

French frowned. "Counting the Curse years?"

Emma stifled a groan. This could get pretty complicated pretty quick. She took a breath. "Uh… maybe skip those?" she suggested with a weak smile.

Tom Clark looked at the three cardboard boxes in Mary Margaret's hands and shook his head. "I wouldn't recommend any of them," he said.

Mary Margaret frowned. "Look, I know it's not ideal, but I need to get into a deep enough sleep, if I'm to have a chance at reaching Henry. Hopefully, I won't have to do that more than once or twice."

"And if you do?" Clark asked. "This stuff," he gestured to the over-the-counter sleeping aids in her hands, "can be addicting and once you get used to using it, you might find that you can't get to sleep without it. Prolonged use will do a number on your liver and kidneys, but even if you only do plan to take it short term, there's another reason I don't advise it." He paused for a beat. "I don't think it'll work."

"B-but it has to!" Mary Margaret protested. "I have to get into a deep enough sleep to—"

"The pills will get you into a deep sleep, all right," Clark confirmed. "But that, right there, is the problem: most dreams happen in REM sleep. That's light sleep. And while you can dream in delta sleep, uh… that's—ah choo!—Sorry! That's the term for deep sleep, those dreams are hazier and harder to remember when you wake up."

Mary Margaret turned to her husband. "I-I used to dream of a red room… flames… it was terrifying. But… I can't recall any other details now. Did I ever mention anything else to you when you'd wake me?"

David frowned as he tried to remember. "I don't think you did," he admitted, looking concerned.

Clark gently took the sleeping pill boxes from Mary Margaret's hands. "My advice?" he said. "Talk to the Dark One." He sneezed again. "He may have some ideas. Magical ones. And since you're helping him get his son back…" He grabbed a tissue and covered his nose and mouth with it, but this time the sneeze didn't come and after a moment he lowered it. "Sorry," he said. "As I was—" He barely got the tissue back into position in time. "As I was saying, since you're trying to get Neal and Henry back, well, all magic may come with a price, but maybe he'll give you a discount this time." He gave her a sympathetic smile. "Hey. Good luck."

Mary Margaret forced herself to smile back graciously. "Thanks, Sneezy."

"You're welcome. Now go find your grandkid."

Emma looked up from her keyboard. "Okay," she said. "I'll check it out. But just to be clear, your daughter is a grown woman. If she's happy where she is, I can't make her go back to you."

Moe French snorted. "How could she be happy with that beast?"

"If she's still with Mr. Gold," Emma said. "Hey. You broke into his place a few months ago. Find anyone locked in his basement?"

French glowered at her. "That doesn't mean he wasn't keeping her elsewhere." His eyes widened. "If he forgot her, if the Curse shut her away somewhere and nobody remembered and she starved…"

Emma shook her head. "I don't think the Curse worked like that," she said, wanting to reassure him. "From what my parents were telling me yesterday, right before the Curse hit, my father got stabbed by one of Regina's… black knights…?" She waited for French to nod. "Yeah. Mary Margaret got to him just as the Curse reached them and she told when she got there, he was almost dead from the wound. Under the Curse, he was in a coma in the hospital on full life support. If Regina meant to hurt Mary Margaret most of all, look, I'm glad he's alive, but all things considered, wouldn't it have made more sense to let him die? If the Curse made sure to keep him alive, I think it'd make sure to keep your daughter alive, too." Especially if she is, who I think she is.

Too her relief, French nodded. "Well, that's something, anyway. But if he's holding her captive…"

"I'll talk to him," Emma said. "When I know something, so will you."

And if the 'Belle' she'd just met was French's daughter, and Gold was holding her against her will, then Emma would… would…

Just what the hell was she going to do if Gold poofed off in another cloud of smoke? Emma clenched her jaw and hoped she'd figure it out as she went along.

There were plenty of berries and other plants about and it only took an hour or so for Neal to forage enough for the next two meals. "If we're camping in the open again tonight," he said, "I think I still remember how to make a snare out of my shoelaces. That would hopefully get us some meat," he continued, "though without a knife, gutting and cleaning it would be messy." At Regina's wrinkled nose and Henry's vaguely queasy look, he shrugged. "We gotta eat and we're not going to get enough protein from roots, leaves, and berries."

"I hope you don't expect me to clean what you catch," Regina snorted.

Neal gave her a reassuring smile. "Not the first time, but if you're still planning to ditch me in the not-so-distant future, you're probably better off knowing how to do it."

"What makes you think I don't know how?" Regina asked, sounding a bit miffed.

"Do you?"

Regina looked away. "Since we now know we aren't alone here, it may not be too much to hope that we'll be back in some sort of civilized society by nightfall, and these concerns will be a thing of the past."

"Maybe," Neal allowed. His expression turned serious. "In that case, I think we need to work on our cover story."

"I've been thinking about that," Henry spoke up. "Trying to come up with a good code name. What do you guys think of Operation Sandpiper?"

Regina frowned. "I trust you know better than to talk about code names if we're around other people."

"Duh-uh!" Henry replied and Regina's frown deepened.

"And that's another thing," she said. "In this land, children treat their parents with respect."

"She's actually right about that," Neal nodded. "At least until they're old enough to strike out on their own, so that's at least another three years in your case."

"Three?" Regina asked.

"If you're old enough to be drafted, you're old enough to set up house. During the Ogre War, that was fourteen."

"Well, we haven't drafted children in centuries."

Neal smiled. "Good to know. Anyway, Henry's still younger than fourteen."

He turned to his son. "So leave the sarcasm with the twenty-first century slang. If you're not sure what to say when other people are around, don't say it. Seriously, this can be a dangerous place. We need to be careful."

He looked at Regina. "For example, I can fake being a member of the nobility about as well as you can fake being a peasant. So, I think we need to come up with a good reason why we're together."

Regina considered. "I suppose we could drop the idea of our being a couple. I can be a noblewoman traveling with my son, and you can be my retainer."

"With no armor and no weapons," Neal said. "Try again. Or, you could have got lost in the forest and my son and I are guiding you through."

"When you don't know where we're going in the first place."

"I saw a road. It has to go somewhere."

"Well, if one end of it leads to troll territory, you'd better make certain you aren't going in that direction or having our ruse discovered will be the least of our troubles."

Neal sighed. "Okay. Well then, how about—"

"I must say," a new voice broke in startling them, "it's been rather entertaining listening to you lot, but," the newcomer chuckled, "I think it's time we heard the truth, now. What say you?"