Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

    Gold looked up from his ledger, observing Emma from behind his counter. She strode with purpose, which he admired. She wasn’t afraid of him - not by a long shot. He had been waiting for her to come to him, though he would never tell her that. He had something he wanted from her, but he needed her to speak first, or he would lose his nerve.

“Gold.” Emma nodded in greeting, making sure she had his attention.

    Gold gave her a shark grin, closing the ledger slowly. “Miss Swan. What might I be able to assist you with?”

“I have a thing, and I need your help.” She returned his dangerous smile with one of her own - not all the sharp edges of his, but still a warning not to push lines.

“What sort of ‘thing’ could bring you into the monster's den, my dear?” Gold questioned, his eyes glinting.

    She was close to asking, it was clear. He needed her to be the one to take initiative. Gold wasn’t even sure he really wanted what he was going to ask for, but it was worth a try. After all, she was the only one who would ever say yes.

    Her cheek hollowed momentarily, and he could tell she was biting it in contemplation before she spoke. “I need you to make a cage. A really strong cage. Can you do that?”

“I dare say I could. Whatever is this cage for, if I may inquire?” Gold raised a curious eyebrow, readying his request.

“Zelena,” Emma answered bluntly.

    He stopped short, his breath catching for a second. No one had dared speak her name in his presence since he was released from her cellar. Despite that, though, she was everywhere. Every time he turned, her fire-red hair was visible around a corner; she was coming out of the back room in his shop; she was even in his house, making his fears rear their heads. The lights were always on, whether he was in his room trying to sleep, or just reading - every light was on. She had gotten into his head, and he couldn’t get her out. He couldn’t eat because he knew he would vomit. Sometimes it was voluntary, his mind telling him he was disobeying her orders, which felt like a small victory; other times, he just couldn’t keep it down. He was desperately hungry, but tea was his only safe haven. He knew he looked gaunt and starved, and some days, he could barely keep himself from blacking out. The magic was all that helped.

    He had been experimenting with a contraption from the Land With No Magic called a computer, and had emailed a psychiatrist, listing his symptoms. The woman had replied to him, telling him that post-traumatic stress disorder was a likely possibility, and that he should get help. He didn’t want to get help, though. Getting help meant telling someone what happened.

“Gold?” Emma leaned down to catch his eye, appearing to regret her lack of tact.

“Yes, Miss Swan, I am capable of what you ask,” Gold confirmed, brushing her worry aside.

“And the price?” She raised her eyebrows, and in a flash, the sorcerer’s mask was back in place, always the savvy businessman.

“Simply the pleasure of your company. Say, perhaps, for dinner?” Gold smirked at her stunned expression.

    He was quite stunned himself. As much as he had pondered doing it, the words still came as a shock when falling from his lips. He knew he needed to, though. He needed her . The constant feeling of being alone and unsafe was destroying his mental state, and he needed her confidence. He needed her presence. He needed her company.

“Seriously?” Emma snorted incredulously. “You want my company? You don’t even like me.”

“Oh, I’ve never said that, Miss Swan. I find you almost delightful when you don’t bring your pesky relatives along.” He smirked, sure that she saw it as a small price.

“All right. Deal.” Emma shrugged, sure she was getting the better end of the deal.

    Gold’s smile stretched in a predatory manner. If he could get close enough, she would become his safety blanket. Maybe one day, he could even convince her to dispose of Zelena.

“And where shall I build this cage, Miss Swan?” Gold steepled his fingers in front of his face, his eyes darker yet at the thought of trapping the witch in an easy-access space.

“Regina’s basement. I mean, if I were her, I wouldn’t want a green monster living under me, but to each their own, right?” Emma shrugged. “Have a nice day, Gold. Text me when you want to meet for my price.”

“And a grand day to you, sheriff.” Gold watched her walk out.

    Regina’s basement…. That complicated things a bit.

Chapter Text

    Shortly after he closed his shop, Gold sent a text to the sheriff asking if she was free at seven. He was already out of the shower, having blow dried his hair, and picking out a suit when she texted back to agree. For some reason, none of his clothes felt right. Some were menacing, some looked too dark, most looked like he was putting no more effort into his clothes than he usually did. It wasn’t a date - he didn’t think - but it was still important. She needed to know he wanted her company. 

    One glance over at the floor length mirror in his closet made his head spin. Half-healed scars graced his body, impossible to miss if he hadn’t been one to button all the way up to his neck. Dark thoughts swirled around his head, the Dark One’s voice in his mind pushing him to allow his curse to take over and end his misery. It was an appealing offer.

    Bringing his fingers to his temple, Gold firmly reminded himself that those thoughts were the reason he needed the Savior’s company. If she could draw light magic from the Evil Queen, then maybe she could put Rumplestiltskin back together. She had loved Baelfire too; she had to feel a fraction of his pain.

    Gold finally decided on a crimson shirt with a gray jacket and trousers, his tie and pocket square patterned in a lighter gray. His black leather belt and shoes followed, his blue and white striped socks concealed by his pant leg. Lastly, he adorned his golden cufflinks, watch, and tie clip, convincing himself it was a good idea to forgo the waistcoat. He was ready.

(*&*)

    Emma pondered over her price to pay as she chose her clothes. Surely it wasn’t a date, but then, what was it? She had never known him to waste a deal, and this time would be no exception. She felt hesitant at the prospect of stepping into something she didn’t understand. Her family couldn’t help her either, as she had relayed only the agreement to the deal and not the price.

    For all her apprehension, Emma felt a certain excitement. It wasn’t every day one attended a dinner with Rumplestiltskin. He made her wary, and she often felt like assaulting him, but he also intrigued her. Mystery after mystery, and yet he always had more. Every time she got closer, there was another riddle to solve. Every step forward was three steps in an unknown direction. He was dark and dangerous, and she yearned to understand him, if only to be able to defeat him in their long standing battle of wits.

    Eventually, Emma came to the decision that casual was the best way to go. It wasn’t a date. In fact, she didn’t know what it was, but a white tank top over skinny jeans and her normal scuffed boots seemed the most enticing option. She slipped into her red leather jacket, grabbed the keys to the apartment, and she was off.

(*&*)

    Gold didn’t have to wait long in front of Granny’s, where they had agreed over text to meet. He had barely been there for five minutes when he saw her walking down the street. He smiled to himself, examining her attire. It was what she would wear any day, though her hair was curled, which she had stopped doing after their return from Neverland. He truly did enjoy it when she curled her hair. Though it might not have been a date, he could never deny that she was beautiful. It made it all the easier to desire to pull her in close and keep her there, where she could be his shield.

    Once she was before him, Emma greeted him with a cautious, “Evening, Gold.”

“You’ve been through dragons, witches, and evil demons, yet you rarely use peoples’ real names. Are you still trying to pretend you live in a world you can control?” Gold flicked his lip in the beginning of a smirk.

    Emma scowled at him. “Maybe I just think ‘Rumplestiltskin’ is a mouthful.”

“You may shorten it if you desire.” Gold waved a hand, encouraging her.

“Rumple.” Emma’s nose scrunched. “That sounds weird - for a name, I mean. How about Rum?”

“As you wish.” Gold gave her a mock bow before gesturing to the diner. “I reserved the back booth so you might be better concealed. I’d hate to set the town’s tongue wagging.”

    They stepped into the diner, drawing only a few stares until they were occupying a booth together. Emma glanced around, toying with the frayed end of her jacket nervously. She didn’t enjoy the eyes on her, but one glare from Gold and they were all at least pretending not to spy.

“I don’t think anything could stop this town’s tongue,” Emma muttered.

    Gold nodded absently. “My apologies; I would have taken you somewhere more private, the Toll Bridge came to mind, but-”

“But this is not a date,” Emma finished.

“Indeed,” Gold agreed with a quirk of his lip.

    Red came to the side of their table, regarding Gold warily. “What can I getcha?”

    Emma shrugged. “Cheeseburger with fries. And a Coke.”

    Red nodded and turned to Gold, pursing her lips. He paid no mind to her defensive behavior. “I’ll have the same, but with pickles as well. And I’ll be fine with water.”

    When the waitress gathered their unused menus, Emma turned her attention back to Gold. “So, if this isn’t a date, then what is it?”

“Perhaps the beginning of companionship,” Gold suggested, shrugging one shoulder lackadaisically.

    Emma snorted. “You wanna be my friend?”

    Gold smirked. “If that’s the way you’d rather put it.”

“I would rather put it the way it is. What do you get out of this, G- Rum? I’m not giving you another favor, if that’s what you want.” Emma leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms.

“All I want is a chance,” Gold insisted, though he felt she was withdrawing, so he added, “It would be nice to have just one person.”

“You have Belle,” Emma reminded.

    Gold studied the table for a moment before meeting her eyes. “No. No I don’t.”

    Emma raised an eyebrow in question but decided to leave it. She pursued a different subject instead. It was none of her business what the beauty and her beast did.

“How have you been settling in these past couple months?” she asked cautiously.

    So much pain reflected in his eyes at the question, catching Emma off guard. That second seemed to last forever with so many emotions flashing right before her. She saw past his facade, his mask. He had walls similar to hers - tough walls designed to keep people and pain out. She saw a broken man who had gone through too much agony, who had suffered far too many tragedies with nothing but a broken heart and shattered soul to show for it. Something had happened between him and Belle, of that she was sure. Something painful that must have almost sent him over the edge. If they weren’t together, she couldn’t imagine how much he must struggle daily. He had mourned Belle for many years, then gotten her back, and then crawled after her wherever she led him. He was like a puppy dog, always trying to please her and stay out of trouble. Belle treated him like a project, and she was sure he often felt like one.

“You know, you’re the first person to ask me that,” Gold said, his voice breaking for a moment.

    Her mind froze for a moment, telling her to comfort him, but her mouth stayed shut. He was Rumplestiltskin, the almighty Dark One, the spinner of gold, the dealmaker, the trickster, the imp. But he was also a grieving father, and a lonely being. Before she could make up her mind, though, his face fell blank and the masquerade continued.

“I’m settled quite nicely,” Gold replied.

“You forget, I can spot lies easily,” Emma countered.

“It’s been much harder alone. Without Belle, without Bae…” Gold breathed deeply, pondering his losses.

“What about your grandson?” Emma encouraged. As wary as she had been of joining him for a meal, her son’s grandfather needed her.

“Henry?” He snorted. “As far as Henry’s concerned, I’m worse than Regina.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” she comforted, feeling sudden compassion towards the sorcerer.

“Oh really? Has he ever expressed interest in getting to know me?” Gold pressed, not sounding too hopeful.

“Well, no. But we’ve never talked about it before,” Emma supplied.

“I’m alone, dearie, that’s something I came to terms with long before now,” he said laconically, as though that was it.

    Again, before Emma could put her sympathy into words, they were interrupted. Red set their plates in front of them along with Emma’s drink, Gold already having his. He took a long sip and ran his tongue over his lips. Emma’s eyes followed it subconsciously as she thought about everything he had and hadn’t said.

“Enjoy!” Red chirped, casting one last wary glance at Gold before striding away.

    They did indeed enjoy their meals, exchanging small bits of conversation. Gold was happy to share stories about how Baelfire was as a child after Emma tentatively broached the subject, and Emma likewise shared her experiences with Neal. There was a sort of understanding between them - a mutual emptiness that was filled with tales and nostalgic smiles.

“I mean, Regina knows we share custody of Henry, and there’s no way she can change that. Why can’t she just let it go?” Emma shook her head.

    Gold snorted. “‘Let it go?’ You're speaking of someone who spent decades seeking revenge on a ten year old who told her mommy a secret.”

    Emma let out a puff of laughter. “Man, everyone lets her off so easily after everything that’s happened.”

    Gold’s smile was half formed when her words started bouncing around his skull. Her words - those oh so familiar words. They may have been spoken in a different tone, but his mind filled in the blanks, painting her hair red and conjuring a bitterness that wasn’t present. He suddenly looked down at his barely-touched hamburger, wishing he hadn’t touched it at all. Bile rose in his throat, making him feel like he couldn’t breathe.

    He forcibly pushed it down. “Excuse me, Miss Swan, I’ll only be a moment.”

“Gol- Rum , are you all right?” Emma asked worriedly, watching him stagger out of the booth.

“Yes, fine. Lots of water,” he breathed with a painfully white smile.

    Emma watched him trip over to the bathroom, her eyes wandering to his half empty glass of water. He had hardly been sipping out of it. When he came back, his face was a nearly green shade of pale. She opened her mouth to inquire, but decided against it. Silence when it mattered seemed to be the theme of the night.

    She looked down at his plate, continuing to keep her mouth shut when Red asked if he wanted a box and he refused. The waitress scowled at all the wasted food, but after studying the coloration of his face, she wisely chose not to push.

    Once their plates were cleared away, they made their way outside, being instantly assaulted by cool air. Emma sucked it into her lungs, noticing the almost dreamy look in Gold’s eyes. Freedom must have felt wonderful; she couldn’t imagine the air in that cellar being very fresh.

    Deciding that she would no longer stick to silence while she knew he needed her, Emma spoke up, “You know, this wasn’t bad.”

    Gold gave her a faint smile. “That’s high praise, from you.”

    Emma snorted. “Maybe we could do this again sometime.”

“Careful, or I’ll think you want to keep my company.” He grinned, and maybe it wasn’t so much like a shark’s this time. 

“We’ll see.” Emma smirked, knowing that she was making - if not the right choice - a good choice. “Don’t forget about Zelena.”

    He knew she was referring to the cage, but as she strode away, he couldn’t help but watch his breath frost on his softly spoken bitter words: “I could never.”

Chapter Text

    The next morning came all too quickly for Gold’s taste. He had gone to sleep thinking about Emma and her suggestion of more time spent together; but, unfortunately, he woke up thinking about Zelena and her unforgettable reminders. Even just a mere thought of her made him very aware of the wounds he kept hidden under his suits. He knew it would be best to go to Regina’s house and build the cell today, so he got up stiffly. He was dulling his pain with magic, but he could still feel the wounds - the ones he hadn’t been able to heal. He also had burns, which wouldn’t heal for a reason he had yet to discover. Gold was constantly reminded by the scars to button up to the neck, loath to display weakness. He didn’t want anyone to know about how he had been hurt when he was helpless; it made his skin crawl with shame and fear.

(*&*)

    When Gold knocked on Regina’s door, he felt a sudden queasiness wash over him. There was a chance he would still be in the basement when they brought Zelena down. Surely the “heroes” wouldn’t let him kill her. He would have to stand there like the good boy she had mocked him as and take every word she threw at him. The witch knew what to say to chip off the few pieces of his soul he still had a grasp on; she wouldn’t hesitate.

    Regina opened the door with pursed lips, unhappy about the idea of the imp in her home. “Are you ready? Try not to blow up my mansion, dear.”

“Don’t worry, Your Majesty. I’m sure you could accomplish that all on your own,” Gold growled, stepping past her to her chagrin. “I’m not a vampire. I may come and go from this modern hell you call a home as I please.”

    Regina sniffed and gave him a once over, shutting the door harshly. The noise made him flinch, and he loathed her victorious smile. Gold never would have flinched before. On top of that, he knew what she saw. His face was drawn from lack of sleep and little food, his posture stiff from pain. He was too tired to waste magic on a glamour - it wasn’t worth it.

“Well, I’ll just let you work then.” Regina sneered, sweeping her arm towards the door to the basement in mock welcome.

    Gold gave her a dark smirk. “Much obliged, dearie.”

    It felt like a long walk down to the basement, but it was mere steps. Once he was there, he desperately wanted to leave. It was dark and confining and exactly like the storm cellar . The only thought that kept him grounded was the vengeful voice - probably the Dark One - in his head that encouraged him to make the witch feel a sliver of what he felt.  

(*&*)

    A few hours later, he had successfully shaped a prison cell with his magic. It looked just like the one in the sheriff’s station, but bigger. There was a toilet, bed, and a slot for food and water to be pushed through. There was no door - she would be put in magically - and there were wards put up around the prison so not even Regina could get to her. Gold had spent the better part of his time placing as many spells as he could think of over Zelena’s new home. Satisfied with his results, Gold pulled out his cell phone and dialed Emma’s number.

“Hey, Rum.” Gold afforded himself a small smile at the shortened name. “How’re things going with the cage?”

“I’ve finished, my dear.” Gold looked over at his work, checking and rechecking everything.

“M’kay. Don’t move; we’re magicking Zelena over,” Emma informed him.

    Gold’s stomach lurched at the thought. “You’ll have to teleport to a spot above the basement; only I may use magic in here.”

“Got it. See you in five - seconds, I mean.”

    He heard a thump from somewhere over his head and the call ended. Seconds later Emma, Zelena, Regina, Snow White, and David walked down.

“It looks great.” Snow turned her smile on Gold. “Thank you for doing this.”

“Of course,” Gold replied, his eyes never once straying from Zelena.

    He waved his hand and a section of the bars melted away. Emma shoved Zelena in and removed her cuffs, then Gold let the bars materialize once more. Zelena’s eyes danced with amusement as she looked him over.

“Looking a little stiff there, doll,” she hummed, utilizing the pet name he remembered from the cellar.

“Don’t call me that.” It was supposed to be a commanding snarl, but it came out a pleading breath. He felt as though all the eyes in the room were on him, but he was too afraid to check.

    She gave him a wicked grin. “Didn’t you miss me?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” he hissed.

    When he turned, his hypothesis was proven correct: they were all staring. Regina was the first to smugly break the heavy silence. She took a sashaying step forward, pasting on her most condescending smile.

“Well, sis, guess we finally get to live together, like a real family,” the queen mocked.

“Are you going to come visit me then?” the witch asked with fake sweetness.

“To bring you food,” her sister replied.

“Speaking of food, how have you been eating, Rumple?” Zelena asked.

    She knew, somehow she knew. She probably knew everything he was going through, down to the flinches.

“Wonderfully, now that I’m not limited to mush .” He would stop there, but the words - his habitual defense - came spilling out in weak insults meant to cut. “Tell me Zelena, were you making horrible food on purpose, or is that just how you cook? That was worse than what the Charmings fed me, and I’m quite sure they hired someone to make disgusting meals.”

“Come now, you looked like you enjoyed it. You ate every last bit,” she cooed.

    He wanted to scream; he wanted to throw something; he wanted to kill her. The sudden energy buzzed under his skin, but he could feel all the hesitant eyes on him. Gold had eaten all of it - when she shoved it down his throat. He could remember clearly the times he refused her meals. She had had him kneel on the cold, hard ground while she yanked his head back and fed him, one bite at a time. He had bitten her once; it hadn’t ended well.

“How are your hands, doll ? I can’t tell from here.” Zelena’s face adopted a slithering smile.

“You know exactly how my hands are, you bloody lump of zucchini,” Gold snapped, finally finding a rage that overrode his fear.

    The witch tsked. “And what happened to those manners I taught you, love?”

    One question. One question and Gold’s head was spinning and the darkness of the basement was the darkness of a cellar. Her bars became his bars, and the heroes that he had wished would leave disappeared, only for him to desperately want them back.

*

    Gold was curled on his side in the storm cellar. His bare upper body had been absorbing the cold of the concrete since the command kneel had been lifted. His hated dagger had kept him on the ground, head bowed, for hours before he had been permitted to move. The sound of the cellar’s door crashing open echoed around the small space, bringing him to his feet, though his knees protested the movement. The witch wouldn’t see him on the ground; she would not see him broken.

“Hello, doll. How are you feeling?” Zelena came to the door of his cage, swinging it open and flicking the single light in the cellar on.

“Peachy,” Gold replied sardonically.

“Wonderful!” She painted on her prettiest smile, the dim light in the cellar cast an ugly glow over all of her sharp points.

    Gold vaguely amused himself with the thought of how the shadows brought out his worst sides, while light illuminated hers. They were far from the same, and that thought gave him a measured amount of comfort. He may have been evil, but she was wicked.

“What do you want?” he snapped.

    Zelena tutted. “Manners, dear. It pays to be kind to your mistress.”

“Over my dead body.” The sorcerer let out a short, mocking laugh.

“Why not over your son’s?” she tittered.

    Within the space of a second, he was before her, the dagger being the only thing keeping his hands from her throat. She smiled at him, entertained by his frustration. He couldn’t get to her then, but he would eventually. He promised himself he would. For Baelfire.

“You don’t deserve to speak his name, witch. He was far too good for the scummy likes of you,” Gold growled.

    Zelena’s face folded quickly into anger. “I said ‘manners’!”

    Gold howled as the dagger was raked across his body, from his shoulder to his hip. He doubled over, the magical pain following the cut, as wounds from the dagger always brought. He could feel thin streams and fat drops of blood flowing from the open cut. For a moment, he clutched his body too tightly and was immediately reminded of his broken ribs. That was from the other day when he had been “too snippy.” Zelena cackled above him, her fury erased by enjoyment. Even after a few minutes, the dark, agonizing magic still spread out from his wound, lighting nerves on fire and pushing hisses from between his lips.

“Do you feel like being polite now, servant?” Zelena wrapped her fingers in his hair, pulling back until he met her eyes.

    He had nothing. Gold had no defenses, no tricks up his sleeve - nothing. He had anger, though. He had a burning rage pent up inside of him that demanded her head on a spike. So, perhaps against his better judgment, he glared back at her and let his next remark slither from his lips: “I am polite. Just ask your sister.”

    Zelena’s grip tightened on his hair, and she slammed him into the mesh of his cage, using her dagger to slice a straight line from shoulder to shoulder. Gold felt the blade hit bone and he screamed, his chest wound pushing further into the mesh and making everything worse. The magical agony followed, causing low convulsions to ripple through his body. The witch simply kept her hand in his hair for another moment before shoving his face into the mesh.

“When I come back, be polite, and maybe I won’t hurt you as much as I’m planning to.” And she stormed out, the doors banging shut behind her.

*

“Rumplestiltskin?” David spoke the name like a curse, but allowed worry to weave its way into his voice.

    Gold’s breathing evened out, his mind unfreezing as the princling’s call brought him back to his head. With blood rushing to his face, he realized it had drained in his reminiscence. Zelena’s smile stretched from ear to ear, and his stomach turned violently.

“It appears they’re still there. Good. I would hate to think that all my hard work had gone to waste.” Zelena’s eyes mocked him, just as her words did.

    Gold’s mouth opened slightly for a moment, like he was going to say something. But his stomach rolled again, this time bringing with it the need to vomit. His knees went weak and he braced himself against the nearest wall, dry heaving. He gagged painfully, almost wishing there was something in his stomach to throw up. Emma and Snow, the heroes they were, came rushing to his side, steadying him until it stopped.

“Oh my! Rumplestiltskin, what’s wrong?!” Snow’s hand flitted around, trying to figure out a way to help him.

    Gold waved a dismissive hand as he gasped for air. “It’s fine. Just lost my equilibrium for a second.”

    Zelena watched in quiet amusement from her cage, dousing herself in the happy fact that he must spend all of his time thinking about her. Every waking moment - and it looked like he had many of those - she was in his head. She knew he couldn’t get her out. She had planted herself there with the intention of lasting forever, and nothing short of a memory potion would remove her. Her smile stretched once again, watching the “heroes” swarm him, noticing how his suit hung off of him. He was much, much slimmer - so very dead looking. His eyes lacked the mischievous edge they once possessed, and his mouth had lost that smug quirk. He appeared as though every step took a mountain of energy. And on top of all that, he was alone. Belle wasn’t there, and Zelena knew she wouldn’t have stayed with him. He was too broken for her to fix, and that was the only reason she had been there. Her little cracked mirror had finally lost some shards that she couldn’t find, poor dear.

    With them all surrounding him, Gold felt as though he couldn’t breathe. They were suffocating him, and if he told them to stop, they would only push further. Emma looked unsure of whether he needed comfort or space, but thankfully chose the latter. She may have been learning to be a hero, but she already knew what it felt like to be a victim - just maybe not to his extent.

“Our deal is done.” Gold brushed them all off, feeling like he was dragging leaden legs to the stairs. “I’ll be taking my leave now, dearies. Good day."

Chapter Text

    By the time Gold reached his home, he felt as if he would collapse. He hadn’t teleported out of fear that it would claim his last little bit of energy. After the magic he had used to keep himself upright in Regina’s basement, though, he could feel his eyes becoming leaden. He didn’t even make it upstairs, instead collapsing on the floor in his suit, his brain retiring only to introduce dreams in its place. No, not dreams; not nightmares either - memories.

*

    The wounds from several hours previous were burning his torso. Gold knew there would be more to come if the heroes didn’t hurry up. They didn’t care though - they never did. To them, he was a tool. They called him family when they wanted to keep their caring image in the public’s eyes. Behind closed doors, though, it was always his fault. Somehow, the world’s problems always stemmed from him. Therefore, when they wanted help, instead of merely asking, it was “you owe us this much” or “it was your fault, it’s your responsibility.” He always ended up helping them, even when he was loath to do so, because of Belle. His precious Belle, his reason for everything. She admired the heroes that he knew only as hypocrites.

    Once he started thinking of Belle, he couldn’t stop. Even when the flickering light of the cellar clicked on and his captor descended the steps.

“Morning, Rumple. Did you miss me?” Zelena smiled, and he was left to observe how forced it appeared, as it always did.

“No, I didn’t. I miss Belle,” Gold said, his mind still focused on his love.

“That little flower? She’s much too pure for you, doll.” The witch huffed out a laugh.

“Oh, I agree - but she loves me.” The sorcerer smiled, feeling far away and fond.

“Does she, though? I’m not so sure. She’ll leave you like all the rest when she sees how broken you are,” Zelena promised. 

    Gold pulled his aching body off the floor so he could stand in front of her. He gave her a mockingly pity-filled look, drawing his mouth in a smirk. His eyes glistened with anger, but his words flowed with faux honey.

“I won’t begrudge you that opinion, dearie, as I know love has never been your greatest aptitude.” Gold’s smile teased as his voice stabbed.

“On your knees!” Zelena commanded, using the dagger, her fury flaring.

   Gold’s knees violently hit the floor, causing him to release a little yelp in pain. She fisted her hand in his hair and pulled his head back to expose his neck, the submissive gesture she enjoyed the most. When she brought the dagger up by his collarbone, he wasn’t surprised.

“Stop speaking of Belle! She’s not coming - none of them are. You and I are alone. You are mine, not hers. She has laid no claim to you,” Zelena yelled, talking as if he were a mere object. In a way, with the dagger, he supposed he was - a puppet.

“And I suppose you have?” he sneered.

    If she hadn’t before, she did then, digging his dagger into each side of his collarbone in turn. Like she had with his back, she pushed until it rubbed up against his bone. The slice of the blade was enough to make him scream, but with the dark, cutting magic that followed, he struggled to convulse properly. Her hand in his hair kept him from moving too much, and he could feel his neck cramping and his jaw tightening with the effort. His eyes were wide open, the cracks in the ceiling blurring, the singular dim light appearing in several different places. He felt as though he was underwater, his ears unable to tell whether that faint sound was his scream or Zelena’s laugh. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, any strain on his shoulders worsening the pain from all three of his newly open wounds.

    After a few minutes, Gold’s raw throat turned his screams into wheezes and agonizing gasps for air. Zelena still cackled above him, her fingers flexing in his hair. He couldn’t feel where the pain was coming from any more; it was just there.

    Zelena put her lips to his ear. “Now tell me, doll: who do you belong to?”

    With all the defiance he had in him, Gold’s thick-feeling tongue managed to stutter, “B-Belle.”

    The dagger quickly made a crimson line from the base of his skull to the base of his neck. He hissed until the magic tore into him, which yielded a scream. Blood matted in his hair and ran over his shoulder, making sticky trails over his body. Zelena finally released his hair, allowing him to fall forward onto his hands. His back stretched, reminding him of just how many times she had cut into him. Blood and dirt mingled on his torso, and his eyes blankly following the disgusting lines they made, a new half scream forming in his chest with every wave of painful magic. His head felt floaty, his eyes once again blurred. He needed it to stop. He needed no more pain. He loved Belle, but she would never hear him. She would never know.

    He barely heard Zelena’s soft question through the pounding in his ears. “Who do you belong to, slave?”

“You,” Gold answered almost despondently.

    He could take more. He knew he could. But he didn’t want to. His arms shook and his body jerked, the beginnings of convulsions rising up again. It was all just words - words he didn’t mean. He rarely used those, but desperate times….

“You don’t sound terribly convinced. We’ll fix that.” Zelena shook her head disapprovingly, but there was an underlying glee he could feel from her. 

    Gold was close to protesting, but he felt the dagger - his magic - tugging him into a standing position. His legs shook and his wounds stretched, but aggressive magic kept him where he was. Then, another magic entered the cage, one much more sour. Green wisps gave way to dangling chains in the middle of his cage that reminded him sickly of Regina’s dungeon. This time, he wisely kept that name from his lips, though.

“Step between them. We’re going to have some fun,” Zelena ordered, his dagger pushing him towards them.

    He felt his limbs being tugged, his puppet analogy appearing at the forefront of his mind. His arms were brought up into the hanging cuffs, and he let out a pained groan and a hiss as his wounds moved. Zelena’s magic adjusted the chains until his feet were two inches from the ground.

“Now, you get to learn your place. You are my slave, now and forever, you are mine. Not Belle’s, not the heroes’, not even your own. You belong to me, ” Zelena insisted as a thin metal rod appeared in her right hand, the one not holding the dagger any longer. 

    It briefly reminded him of the pipe she had used to break his ribs and bruise his body, though he doubted she was going to beat him with that. It was only an inch in diameter, about as long as her arm. She waved her hand and hot coals appeared under his feet. They sweltered directly under his heels, the hot air beginning to burn his skin. Then she lowered him, and he screamed . He could feel his skin burning away, piece by piece, until it suddenly went numb. Agony still encased his foot, but within minutes, he could no longer feel his soles. And because that wasn’t enough, Zelena stuck the rod into the coals, watching the metal brighten before holding it to his abdomen. He yelped, writhing in the chains, even though it moved his feet against the coals more. She tapped him again and again and again for hours…

*

    Gold’s eyes snapped open, his body thrashing on the hardwood floor, a strained scream escaping his throat. Nothing but Zelena ran through his mind. He knew what happened next. Hours from then, tears would stream down his face, and he would tell the witch that he belonged to her. His eyes darted around the room, his chest heaving. He wasn’t in the cellar, though. He had put her in a cage just like his, and soon enough, he would kill her.

     The antique clock in his living room read twelve thirty-seven. He dragged himself up the stairs, sorrowfully aware of his nearly numb feet, which his magic was slowly healing. When he got to his room, he shed his suit, sliding on his pyjama bottoms. Gold’s mirror caught his eye, and he winced at the reflection of himself. He didn’t know why only some of his burns had healed, and he despised his dagger for the magic that prevented the healing of the cuts. Looking at his reflection made him want to bid the world ado, and he forcefully tore his gaze away from his ruined torso and climbed into bed. The lights were all on, and he slid to the middle of his bed, curling up. He decided he would go to the diner in a few hours for some calming tea. No monsters or witches would get to him tonight.

(*&*)

    Emma’s eyes opened to light streaming through the loft’s curtains. She felt strange, knowing she was living with her parents, but she was also glad that her room hadn’t changed. It was exactly the same as it had been before she broke the curse, lending her a sense of comfort and reality. Gold had been right; she did want to live in a world that she could control. Her life wasn’t even hers any more. She was the Savior - the answer to everybody’s problems. And, boy, did they have a list.

“Emma, breakfast is ready!” David called, and she smiled because that just sounded like a fatherly thing to say.

    Her family’s origin may have freaked her out, but it was nice to finally have people who loved her. Snow White, Prince Charming, the Evil Queen - and Rumplestiltskin. The man who looked like he was taping himself together just to blow over in a strong wind and break a little more. What had happened yesterday was nothing to wave off. He was suffering, and no one was bothering to care. She would care. Emma would add that to the list of problems and write it at the top. Someone needed her help - genuinely needed her help. He had reached out, which was a big first step. She would take the next one and talk to him.

     Coming down the stairs, she was greeted by her parents and Henry, who gave her a big grin. She sat across from Snow, sparking the memory of when Gold had come to help her with her position as sheriff. He had been manipulative, dangerous, and shady, but he had also helped her. And the one thing he couldn’t claim as part of his agenda was Graham’s jacket. Gold had done something kind, and only she knew it.

“Any plans today, Emma?” David asked as they all dug into their pancakes.

    Emma pondered the question for a moment. “I’m going to head to the diner for some coffee, then go to the station and see what needs to be done.”

“Oh, you can take some coffee from here,” Snow suggested. “I just made a fresh pot.”

“No, that’s okay, but thanks,” Emma refused.

    She had a good reason for going to Granny’s. She was going to find out what was wrong with Gold. She was going to help him.

Chapter Text

    As soon as Gold entered the diner, everything seemed to freeze. It was almost like everyone held their breath, afraid that he would set his sights on anyone that dared to make a sound. It was a familiar feeling - their fear - and it gave him a measured sense of comfort. Even after everything with Zelena, all of that vulnerability, he still made hearts stop and movement cease. It made him feel whole for just a second, like no one knew about Zelena. However, there were always the brazen, or foolish, few that didn’t seem concerned for their safety. Being one of those few, Regina strutted over to pester him as soon as he took a seat at the bar. He winced, not only at her intrusion, but also at the lancing pain that shot through his legs. His magic may have been healing him, but it was working far too slowly.

“We need to talk,” Regina announced as she situated herself to Gold’s left.

“Do we indeed?” Gold replied dismissively.

“Yes, we do.” Regina gave him a stern, yet mocking, glare. “Yesterday - what was that?”

    Gold sighed. “Whatever do you mean, Your Majesty?”

“Ignorance doesn’t suit you, Gold. It never has,” Regina pressed.

“You know, in this world, they say that ignorance is bliss,” Gold countered.

    Clearly deciding on another route, Regina continued, “You looked like you were going to retch all over my basement.”

“It’s a good thing I didn’t then, because you’d be the one to clean it up.” Still attempting to shut down the conversation, Gold scanned the counters, looking for stains.

    Regina let out a derisive laugh. “If you think that, you’re further gone than I thought. Look, I’m not asking because I care. I need to know that when we need you, you’ll be there.”

“I’ll be there if I choose,” Gold snapped.

    His heart thumped harshly against his chest, begging to escape. Choose . What a brilliant word. He hated this. Her voice - her orders . Every second of every day, it was a battle to remember that he didn’t have to listen. The sound of his blood rushing through his ears momentarily distracted him, allowing him to escape. His dagger was locked away in his floor safe, protected by an unreasonable amount of magic. Either way, his fear contained no logic; it was simply raw fear. If someone reached for him, they could hurt him. If someone spoke, they could tell him what to do. If he was in an enclosed space, he could be trapped. The thoughts ricocheted around in his mind, never allowing him to forget. He wanted to lock himself in his house, surrounded by his magic - his , not hers. But Baelfire’s son, his grandson, needed his protection. Gold needed to be there for the only piece of his boy he had left.

“You’ll be there if we ask you to be there.” Regina sneered.

    Gold gave her a shark grin that made him feel oh-so in control. “No, I won’t, dearie. I am my own master now, and I’ll do as I please.”

    Regina glared at him for another minute; for the spite of it or in hope that he would give in, he wasn’t sure. Eventually, though, she gave up and stalked out the door, slamming it behind her. Gold couldn’t help but flinch as the bell rang out, and he hated himself all the more for it. Every time he showed his fear, another piece of his so-called “freedom” seemed to dissipate. Despite what they all said, he was still in a cage; it was just in his head now, but no less demanding.

    The bell still rang in his ears, the chatter of the patrons filling his senses, the food filling the air with different aromas. And suddenly, the walls felt too constricting; there were too many people, too many eyes and threats; the scents - he couldn’t eat, he wouldn’t. They couldn’t make him. He took a deep, shuddering breath, telling himself he didn’t have to eat, he didn’t have to talk, he was there to relax with some tea. It was too much, though, and before he could lose his battle in front of the entire town, he quietly made his way to the bathroom. No one paid him any mind, yet it felt as though every eye was on him and could see straight to his thoughts - his memories.

    Once he got into the bathroom, he locked himself in a stall. It may have been smaller, but he was alone now. They couldn’t see him; they didn’t know what he was thinking. He shook his head, his vision clouding over. Oh, but they did know. They all knew. They knew about Zelena and the dagger and the cage, and could probably guess that he had screamed and cried and pleaded. They knew , and he couldn’t take it.

    He practically collapsed against the side of the stall, retching food that wasn’t in his stomach. He hadn’t had anything but some water earlier, and bitter liquid slid from his mouth, dripping off of his lips and into the toilet. Gold let a sob out, just one. Two years prior, he had had his son - on bad terms, but alive - and Belle - though she was someone else, but there was hope - and his dignity. Now he was hiding in a public bathroom, terrified that someone would walk in and see the almighty Dark One pale-faced and with sick dripping down his chin. No son, no Belle, and no dignity. He had sacrificed himself and his father, and come back to a hell worse than the vault of the Dark Ones. No good deed goes unpunished.

    He pushed open the stall door after flushing the toilet, leaning on the sink counter heavily. He grabbed a paper towel and wiped his face off, but it might as well have been in vain. He was pale, verging on clammy; there were dark circles under his eyes; he knew his suits hung off of him, but he didn’t want to admit that he needed them tailored to a boy’s large; and his cheeks and eyes were hollowed. He looked like a shadow compared to what he had been - perhaps never big, but at least healthy.

    Holding back another sob, Gold splashed water over his face, cleaned out his mouth, and reminded himself that appearances mattered. He would have conjured a toothbrush, but he didn’t even have the energy for a simple glamor. No matter - he would get his suits tailored and work on his eating. He would not join his boy in the grave - as much as he may have wanted to - until he was sure not a thing in the world could harm his grandson. He refused.

    Putting on his best face, Gold strode back into the diner with authority, relief flooding him as eyes were averted and conversations were hushed as he passed. He took the booth in front of the window, sitting at an angle that would allow him to see the door and the diner. Red came over to take his order soon enough, and he tried not to look too relieved at the thought of some soothing tea.

“What can I getcha?” Red asked, like always, but with a forced smile.

“Just tea, please, dearie. You know how I like it.” Gold ordered his face to stay blank and his voice to stay monotone.

“You know, you should eat something. You look horrible,” the wolf suggested boldly.

“Thank you for that assessment, but I believe you’re my waitress, not my doctor,” he snarled defensively.

    He wondered if she would spit in his coffee for that, but then again, who in town wouldn’t? Gold didn’t care. She knew; they all knew. They did see it, even if they were too terrified to say anything. Red said something though, because they were all thinking it. He had had one foot in the grave, even after they had brought him back. His soul rested with his son’s body six feet under Storybrooke.

(*&*)

    Emma walked into the diner, scanning it for longish chocolate hair. Her eyes quickly found what they were looking for in the window booth. She strode over and sat down across from Gold, sadly noting his flinch. No one could catch him unawares, but it didn’t seem to matter whether he saw them coming or not anymore.

“Good morning,” Emma greeted gently.

“‘Morning,” Gold answered wearily, barely making eye contact.

   His lack of enthusiasm did not go unnoticed.

“You all good?” Emma asked cautiously, trying not to sound like she was going to have a heart-to-heart with him.

“Why wouldn't I be?” Gold questioned, as though everything was as it should be.

“Oh, I don't know. Perhaps because you didn't look so hot yesterday,” she supplied, hoping he wouldn’t take offense.

“That would be implying I look hot today,” Gold smirked teasingly, attempting to avoid a deeper conversation.

“No, you look like hell frozen over,” Emma said honestly.

“Making a magic cage will drain you, dearie,” he explained, his smirk dropping along with his facade.

“You looked bad before that too,” she pressed, not unkindly.

“I haven’t been getting much sleep since…” he trailed off, clearly debating something in his mind.

“Since?” Emma repeated expectantly.

‘Since Zelena,’ he thought. “Since Belle left,” he supplied.

   Emma suspected there was something he was leaving out, but Belle was a start. She was a very tentative start.

“What happened?” Emma asked, not particularly expecting an answer.

“I was going to propose, you know,” Gold started. “I think it might partly have been to keep her close, but I was going to. She left before I got the chance, though. She said it was all too much, too different. I can hardly blame her. We were surrounded by the lies I told her, and she knew there was no truth to them, but she didn’t ask. She didn’t want to ask. I am broken now, and that part I couldn’t hide. I’m different. I’m not the man she fell in love with, if she ever loved me at all. I can’t even…”

     Sleep with the light off , he was going to finish. Emma didn’t need to know that, though. She didn’t really need to know anything he had told her, but he had had to tell someone. The Savior, however he was loath to admit it, was his last lifeline, and he needed to draw her in before she left, too.

    Emma wanted to reach across the table to hug him, but she didn’t. He wasn’t close to her, she was just all he had. She wasn’t going to pull him close just because she could. They would always be on opposite sides of the line, and she was only there to put him back together.

“You’re a good person, you know, somewhere under there. Which is why I’m sorry she left.” Emma tried to smile, but it felt sad, even to her.

“I’m not sure I’m a person at all. I was once, but maybe not now. I’m not even sure if I’m a monster anymore.” Gold clenched his jaw, focusing on the table.

“I’ve seen a lot of crap, and a lot of crappy people. You’re definitely no Mother Teresa, but you’re still a person. You were never not a person.” Emma shook her head adamantly. “You loved Neal, and that’s enough for me.”

“Yes, love. I’m full of that,” Gold muttered, wondering where that got him.

    Red finally brought Gold’s tea in a to-go paper cup. He drank slowly, hoping to keep it all down. Emma was close enough to the truth, and smart enough to figure it out. She didn’t need to know what differences had driven Belle away. She didn’t need to know just how very broken he was.

“Got anything planned for today?” Emma asked curiously, bringing the conversation back into the light.

    Gold shrugged. “I’ll go into the shop. It’s the only place that feels like home now.”

    He pursed his lips at the admission. He wasn’t surprised by his own words. Emma was the only person he could talk to, and talk he did. Perhaps too much. Whether or not that was true, though, he had a hesitant feeling that he could trust her, just a bit. Everyone needed to put a little trust in someone, after all, and there were worse choices than the Savior. She hadn’t run yet, which only drew him nearer.

“So if you need me, I’ll be there,” Gold said, trying to move back into his comfort zone.

“Maybe I’ll stop by for lunch?” Emma offered, sounding unsure.

“Why, Miss Swan,” Gold put a hand on his chest, “are you suggesting spending time with me ? My, what would the townsfolk think of their precious Savior in the dragon’s lair?”

    Emma waved a finger at him. “You’re strangely flirty sometimes, you know that?”

“And yet, you seem undeterred,” Gold noted with a smirk, feeling like she had just arrived in town and still didn’t believe in magic.

“It will take more than suggestive smirks to send me away,” she teased. “And call me Emma. It’s a good first step. Or maybe a second step.”

“A step towards what?” Gold raised a curious eyebrow.

    It almost shocked him how much he forgot about time and place while talking with the Savior. He felt like they were in his shop, preparing to face Madam Mayor once again. It was as light and - admittedly - flirty as it used to be, when there was no magic or monsters or evil queens and witches. He felt whole, unbroken. Just for a moment.

“I guess we’ll find out.” Emma smirked, turning to leave.

“I’ll see you soon, Em-ma.”

    Emma felt a shiver snake down her spine. He had said her name few times before, but it was always the same as when they first met. It was as though he was wrapping his tongue around it, tasting it, weighing it. It was as though he thought speaking the word without admiration would break the world and everyone in it. It made Emma feel important, like she had earned the great Rumplestiltskin’s respect, and perhaps she had.

    It wasn’t until she reached the station that she realized she had forgotten her coffee, caught up as she had been with Gold.

(*&*)

    Gold pushed the door to his shop open, listening to the merry jingle of the bell. Countless innocuous noises had been making him flinch since he had gotten back from Zelena’s cellar, yet this one was calming. He had been hearing it for three decades, and it made his mind dance with a reminiscent peace. Desperate townsfolk had slowly opened the door to his shop, hoping to strike a deal with him. Regina had come barging in numerous times to demand assistance with a scheme. David had asked for directions to the Toll Bridge, lost between emptiness and false memories. Snow had come in, portraying forceful hope for help that she knew was not freely given. Young Henry had come to buy a gift for his teacher, who he knew to be his grandmother. And, of course, how many times had Emma Swan walked in? For help, or to accuse him of something.

    A smile crossed Gold’s face at the thought of the bell ringing again at lunch, once more for Emma Swan. As he stepped behind the curtain, he wondered at the shift in him. Before he even knew her name, she had been the piece on the board that would lead him to his son - a means to an end. Then, when she had arrived in Storybrooke with all the force and hesitancy of a skittish lion ready to lash out at a moment’s notice, it had hit him: his means was a person. Gold had done everything in his power to ignore that, because he was using her, and he knew that and she knew that. Once again, he found himself using her - this time for protection and perhaps comfort - and yet, he was also once again caught marveling at her character. She was never supposed to be breakable, not in his eyes, not in his chess game. But here he was, thinking of her as more than his impenetrable knight.

    With a hesitant and contemplative smile, Gold set an old box on his work table. It contained a model train with a few bent pieces that he had fixed. Some of the things in his shop had simply materialized in the curse instead of transferring with them, and he had to wonder if it had been pulled from another realm. He would have put the train together weeks ago, but the small bits had given his once-steady hands trouble. Gold had found his digits shaking and twitching with every thought and every noise, resembling the condition of tremors, though he had been told it was just a side effect of trauma. The psychiatrist he had emailed was very helpful and very blunt, which afforded him the information he needed without the feeling of actual therapy. 

    That persistent shaking that seemed a constant reminder gave him pause. He reached over to grab his unlidded tea, hoping a sip of the hot liquid would fortify him. As he lifted it, his hand gave a small jerk, sending a short cascade over his digits. The reaction was instant; the tea was slammed back onto the table, the bench screeching back against the floor, and his mind raced to distinguish memory from reality. The heat, though not horrible, shocked his hand, bringing to the surface a pain that only still existed in his mind. His eyes scoured the room around him, but he didn’t see his shop…

*

    Gold’s body ached as he stood, reminding him where he was and who he was with. His feet had gone numb, and though it was probably unwise to stand on the dirty floor with open wounds, he hardly cared any longer. His wounds pulled and stretched, limiting his movements and begging him to sit and stay. She had burned him, she had beaten him, and she had cut him. She had strung him along with his own magic, which was worse than the rest. To know that the power he had once believed to be more loyal than his son was now turned on him, seeking to move him to the witch’s tune, burned him worse than any rod. Without his magic, without his son, he had truly become nothing. As if that wasn’t enough, the monkey-loving cucumber visited him every day, making sure he knew all the things he wasn’t.

    At the moment, she was asleep in the farmhouse, not touching the dagger. Gold had no doubt that her hand was hovering right next to it, but he would have been able to feel it if she was holding it. Though the rules of the Dark One kept him from grabbing the dagger himself, she could only enforce new rules if she was touching the weapon. He wasn’t allowed to use magic or heal himself, but she hadn’t stopped him from much else. He was in a cage, after all.

    He bent - slowly and painfully - to retrieve two firm splinters of wood that he had taken off of his spinning wheel and hidden in the straw he slept on. Hesitantly - Gold knew the risk of such a feat - he made his way to the front of the cage, gritting his teeth against the pain in his body. Using the slim tips of the splinters, Gold eased them into the lock, treating it like all the dusty tumblers he had had to unlock to get into old chests and boxes. He went slowly, utilizing the steady hands he had spent centuries perfecting for potions. After a minute, the lock gave a soft click, and Gold thanked deities he didn’t even believe in for the luck of the splinters staying together. When he pushed, the cellar door inched open, prompting an almost-smile to his face. The witch had never given him a command not to leave because she could easily have called him back, but she still could have wards up. He took ginger steps full of fear towards the stairs, every second waiting for Zelena to come down and cut him and beat him and burn him. Making it to the top of the stairs surprised him, but he was unwilling to stop at that point. Gold tentatively pushed the cellar door open, cursing the loud creak for all he had.

    Once he was standing in the snow, Gold held his breath. His pants were just barely around his waist, hanging off of him after all of the weight he had lost. The cold breeze whispered against his wounds, bringing a hiss to his teeth. The first breath he took felt beautiful, though. It was fresh and cold and smelled of forest. He didn’t feel free, but for the first time in months, he felt alive. 

    Not wanting to dawdle too long, Gold began a blind walk towards the road that led down to Storybrooke. He wouldn’t be able to stay long; he didn’t even know what he would do. It was nice to be out of the dank cellar, though - to feel, just for a moment, like that wasn’t going to be the rest of his immortal life. Maybe he could even get his wounds tended to. His feet felt strange, in between numb, wounded, and cold. His ribs and cuts ached and stung. Nothing was as horrible as the painful tug that stopped him dead after only a few steps, though.

“What do we have here, hmm? Running away in the dead of night? Oh, but I’m not done with you yet, doll.” Zelena sneered. “How far exactly did you think you could stumble?”

    Gold turned, feeling the clench of the dagger in his heart, in his stomach, in his head, as her anger was intercepted by the magic. “Fancy seeing you here, dearie,” Gold snarled. He had nothing but his words left, and weak as they were, he would show as much resistance as he could before she reminded him how unwise it was.

    Zelena gave a snarl to match his. “Into the kitchen, slave.”

    Before he could protest, his body moved towards the farmhouse, where he was seldom allowed to be. He wasn’t sure what she would do, but he knew she wouldn’t do nothing. Gold wanted to ask, as his feet carried him achingly through the snow, why she would have him go to the farmhouse instead of his cage. Once he reached the door, he could hear her heels clicking up the stairs behind him, sending tremors of fear through his body. He wanted to be strong, defiant, but what would it accomplish? He probably looked just as weak as he felt, covered in blood and dirt from his cage, cuts and bruises lining his torso, and nothing but tattered trousers on.

“Tell me, what would you do if your pet tried to run away?” Zelena asked curiously.

    The dagger compelled him to tell the truth: ”I would teach it to stay put.”

“Precisely,” the witch agreed as she led him into her surprisingly modern kitchen. She walked over to her electric stovetop, turning on the front two burners. “You have a talented tongue, Rumple,” she left the stove and faced him, running her fingers through his hair as he shook, “which is one of the reasons I’ve always admired you.” He bared his teeth at her, stamping down his fear. He had nothing but defiance left, and he would use it. Zelena’s fingers traced Gold’s face, mapping it out in a cruel facade of care. “But your fingers are almost as talented, which causes me problems -” suddenly, her digits were buried in his hair, yanking his head back, “- when you don’t listen.”

“Then you’ll be dealing with quite a few problems, dearie, because I won’t listen,” he growled.

    With a sniff, Zelena stepped back, looking behind her at the stove for a moment. She waved the dagger at him, not saying a word until he was forced to take a step forward. A glint was in her eyes as he moved to stand in front of the stove. “I’ll make you listen. I’ll make them all listen.”

    Gold stared down at the stovetop, angry that he had to listen - had to listen to his son’s murderer. He vowed once again that he would kill her. He promised his boy that he would watch her burn, if it cost him everything he had left. He would pay the price, no matter how steep.

“Hands. Palms down,” Zelena ordered, playfulness creeping into her voice. “If you won’t use them the way I want, you won’t use them at all.”

    Gold’s hands came down, one on each of the hot burners. There was an extended silence where he just watched and listened while the skin of his hands sizzled. His mind took seven seconds to catch up with the pain, and then two more seconds passed before he was able to push out a scream. Six more seconds and he couldn’t tell which parts of his hands were numb. Two more seconds - his arms spasmed as he tried in vain to pull away. Twenty more seconds - he could feel dry strips up and down his throat as his screams became hoarse. Ten more seconds and there was a moment of silence again. Gold’s breaths came in short gasps, panic streaking through his mind as he realized it barely hurt. He tried to steady his breathing, but his vision floated and his hands gave off a dull ache. He searched his hazy mind for an explanation, recalling curse-provided false memories about third degree burns.

“I - I,” Gold tried, not even sure what he was trying to say.

    The witch waved his dagger, letting his hands pop off the stove. He stumbled over to the other side of the kitchen, putting distance between himself and the heated surface. He could barely hear his own gasping whimpers, looking down - against his better judgment - at his ruined hands. The skin was burned away in places, charred black in others, splattering his hands with pale and coal. He wanted to look away, but he was fixated on his palms and digits. His hands had been the only part of himself he ever liked. His long, slender fingers easily danced across anything that needed fixing or cleaning, which had allowed him to play piano once he had needed something to do as he waited for the Savior to break his curse. Now, they were marred with black claws of ugliness that reminded him of a weakly attempted escape. Magic would heal them - would even take away the scars. But the nerves had been damaged, and the pain would linger. Magic couldn’t do everything, and it would come with a price. If he got rid of the pain, it may leave a scar; if he got rid of a scar, there may still be pain. Only trying would tell him which way the magic would lean.

“Are you ready to listen now, doll?” Zelena tittered happily.

    Gold tore his eyes away from his hands. “I won’t listen, dearie. I have but one thing left, and I won’t let you take it. You can’t take it. You still have a lesson left to learn.”

    Zelena scoffed, anger boiling up. “And what is that, pray tell?”

“You can’t have everything,” Gold hissed.

    In a flash, Zelena’s hand was at his throat, holding him against the wall. “I can have everything, and when I do, my sister will have nothing.”

“You can never take every single thing from a person. They will always have the things in their head and their heart.” Gold stared at her, refusing to acknowledge his pain in favor of hurting her.

“Not if they don’t exist!” Zelena shrieked, tightening her grip until he choked for air. “When I’m done, only I will remember her, and you - you will choose me the second time around. You won’t have a choice. Now back to your cage!”

    As soon as her hand released him, Gold felt the pull of his dagger, the aching in his hands lacing pain through his arms. 

“You’ll never win,” he muttered, loud enough for her to hear.

    The dagger cut into his side, shooting agony over his stomach. He doubled over, the dagger still pulling him forward as he screamed. Zelena seethed behind him, turning to stride down the hall while he grabbed a counter to support himself. He was pulled to the door and into the snow only by the strength of the magic. His hands and feet felt the same - numb - but his cuts and broken bones needled at him, reminding him with every step that he couldn’t escape, that no one was coming, that his son was dead. The dull ache in his numb fingers pounded in his head, reminding, reminding…

*

    Gold cradled his hands to his chest, his mind unsure of whether he was walking back to a cage or rocking on a floor. A noise startled him, and he feared to look around and see Zelena. What he saw was a bench, though, and a bed, and his possessions, and an innocent cup of tea. He was in the back room of his shop. But the noise…? The bell that was so comforting, he guessed. People didn’t usually come into his shop. Gold looked at an old clock on the wall. It was nearly noon. He had only left Granny’s a few minutes ago, he thought.

“G- Rum? You in here?” Emma’s voice floated past the curtain.

    A memory pulled at Gold’s mind, overpowering his current one, and he almost muttered “well it is my shop” as he stood. His mind was still running to catch up with what was happening, but he knew he had to give an answer. “Y-Yes. Just a moment, dearie.”

    Gold could feel the sweat covering his body, and bringing his hand to his face revealed that he had been crying. He cursed silently, stripping his clothes off and wetting a towel to wipe himself down. Emma didn’t need to know. He used a bit of cologne, hoping that he didn’t smell like sweat, and pulled out his extra suit. He scowled at the tea spilt over his work table, quickly using the towel to mop it up.

“Rum, are you all right?” Emma’s concerned voice came again after a few minutes.

“Just fine, thank you,” Gold replied cordially, stepping out of the back in a black suit and tie with a deep blue shirt.

   He came to stand behind the counter and took her in. She was wearing a gray shirt with a blue leather jacket and her usual skinny jeans and boots. He couldn’t help but notice she changed out of what she was wearing earlier and suddenly felt a lot better about the situation.

“It seems we had much the same idea.” Gold gestured to her clothes.

    Emma looked down, then hesitantly, “Yeah. I, uh, I thought we could - go somewhere… maybe?”

    Gold kept his face blank, though surprise flashed through him. He knew very well what his angle was, but he was unsure about hers. As far as he could see, she got nothing out of the companionship he had offered. He was beginning to suspect that with Baelfire’s death, she had remembered that they were family.

    Gold’s eyebrows jumped in acknowledgment. “There is a lovely sandwich shop down the street, if you’d like.”

    Emma hummed in surprise. “I didn’t know you knew what a sandwich shop was, honestly. I figured you’d suggest some fancy, rich place.”

“Fancy restaurants don’t really seem to be your forte. And I know about the sandwich shop because the only ice cream parlor in Storybrooke is right across from it.” Gold smirked, dashing the thoughts of his flashback.

“We can get ice cream afterwards, then.” Emma smiled slightly, relaxing into their conversation.

“On one condition,” he reasoned.

“Of course there’s a condition. There always is with you,” Emma said, though the line lacked the usual venom, “and I’m not going to kiss you, so don’t even try,” she said warningly, teasing him.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. If you were going to kiss me, I would want it to be of your own volition.” Gold adopted what he remembered her calling his “strangely flirty” attitude earlier that day. “No, no - my condition is that you let me pay,” Gold assured.

“Hmm, I suppose I could live with that. As long as you let me pay next time,” Emma agreed firmly.

   Gold was so amazed that she would want a next time, even while they were still on uneven footing with their strange new friendship, that he could say nothing but, “Deal.” He offered his arm for her to take, and to his further surprise, she took it. They walked out the door and down two streets for lunch, talking amiably about things that didn’t really matter.

Chapter Text

    When they reached the deli, Gold freed his arm to open the door, gesturing Emma inside. As they entered, the sheriff took in their surroundings, noting the quiet atmosphere and few people. It was almost a shock to think that there was a peaceful space in Storybrooke where no suspicious glances were exchanged.

“You’ve forgotten it all, haven’t you?” Gold’s voice surprised Emma.

    Her words took on a defensive edge: “Forgotten what?”

    A smile flicked across Gold’s lips for a second before disappearing. “How it was before, when you didn’t expect a dragon to rampage through the town. Or even before that, when you didn’t know of the town at all. When was the last time you spent a day without seeing your parents?”

“Uh - well, I live with them, so.” Emma shrugged, then shuddered. “I never thought I’d say that.”

    As they walked to the counter, Gold continued the conversation: “Have you considered renting your own apartment?”

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Emma smirked sardonically. “Coming to collect my rent?”

“It all depends.” Gold flashed her a devious grin, feeling more daring than he had since before his imprisonment. “Was that a euphemism?”

    Emma opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off unknowingly by the boy behind the counter, “May I take your order?”

    She gave Gold a sharp look by way of a reply to his comment before ordering, “Um, can I have a Turkey Bacon on sourdough with Swiss cheese and pickles?”

    The boy began working on her sandwich as Gold smiled. “Ah yes, pickles. One of my favorite things about this world. They almost make up for the magic deficiency, you know.”

“Do they really? I didn’t know you were such a fan.” Emma’s eyebrows jumped.

“Indeed.” Gold licked his lips out of habit, not noticing as Emma’s eyes subconsciously followed. “I’m in the process of striking a deal with Mrs. Lucas, in fact. Soon enough I’ll have them free and unlimited.”

“Mine are free and unlimited,” Emma said.

“Yes, well.” He pursed his lips. “She doesn’t like me.”

“Not many people do.” Emma shrugged unabashedly.

    To her surprise, Gold smiled and replied, “You make a fair point.”

    The boy announced that her sandwich was finished, and Gold ordered a salad. As they walked over to a window booth, Emma noticed the few eyes in the deli following them to their seat. The moment Gold looked over, they all looked away. Even after everything that had happened, all the vulnerabilities that had been uncovered, they still feared him. There was a part of her that believed Regina was hurt by that fear, somewhere in her dark heart; but not Gold, she knew. Emma wasn’t sure why, but the fear seemed to comfort him. She thought of the saying hurt people hurt people and wondered if one could paraphrase it as scared people scare people . There was only one way to find out.

“That doesn’t bother you? The looks?” Emma asked carefully.

    Gold sat down across from her. “Why should it? They’re not wrong to fear me, you know. There’s a very good reason your parents have warned you away from me.”

    Emma opened her mouth to respond but was once again cut off by the boy behind the counter, calling Gold back to receive his salad. She watched him walk off, observing the lines of his suit. He wore it well - or he had. She knew it had fit him perfectly, once upon a time. After what Zelena had said in the basement and what had happened at Granny’s, she wondered how much he really ate.

    Once Gold returned to the table, they ate in companionable silence for a while. Emma snuck glances at him every few moments to see how much he had eaten, and noticed that he seemed to be mostly pushing the lettuce around. She was about to mention something, but decided against it. She didn’t think they were close enough for that, or he would have told her what was wrong.

    Emma’s mind went off on a tangent, then, thinking about how close they really were. They had spent time together on their not-a-date that she had enjoyed, and he had talked to her like a normal human being, which hadn’t happened to her since she had become the “Savior.” Hook still followed her around, and she had kissed him in Neverland. Of course, she still didn’t have magic because she had, technically, kissed him again to save his life. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the pirate, but she was sure how she had felt about Neal. Emma thought that, perhaps, Hook had been her lie - a lie she told herself to bring to life the thought that she was ready to move on from her son’s father.

“Is this a date?” Emma asked suddenly, nearly choking on her own sandwich.

    In counter to her reaction, Gold set his fork down calmly, swallowed, and made eye contact with her. “Would you like it to be?”

    Emma breathed in deeply, not liking the idea of talking so vulnerably; but someone had to take the next step, according to the invisible rules of this small walk they had been managing. “I’m not sure I’m over your son.”

    Gold nodded, his eyes somewhere between pain and love at the memories. “Know this now, Emma,” her name came from his lips, once more, with the utmost care, “- you’ll never be over my son.” Emma’s mouth opened wordlessly for a moment before he continued, “You loved him, and he loved you. Whether it was True Love or not, it was a true love. I might even argue that True Love isn’t real, and that you just fell in love with someone with your whole heart.”

“How could True Love not be real? I’ve seen what the magic can do. You said - you said it made me.” Emma gestured to herself.

“Humor me just for a moment, m’dear.” Gold flicked his hair out of his eyes, gathering his thoughts. “What love could be more true than believing that you’ve found the only person in existence who is right for you? Is that not, in itself, magic? The greatest magic of all, perhaps? That moment when you truly, purely believe that your heart belongs to one, and only one, person?”

    Emma’s mouth opened again, but this time, she found her words: “I - I guess that is something, huh?”

“‘Something,’ indeed,” Gold agreed. “This little outing of ours can be whatever you’d like, Emma. You don’t have to tell me now.”

“Okay. I’ll, um, I’ll tell you later, I guess.” Emma nodded, thankful not to be put on the spot like she had so many times before.

“As you wish.” Gold bowed his head slightly, picking his fork back up. “It makes me happy to know that my son found a love as beautiful as yours. It makes me feel as though I didn’t fail him completely.”

“You didn’t fail him at all.” Emma let her smile return. “He was a stubborn pain in the ass, but in the end, he knew how many people loved him.”

“I’m not sure I can believe you just yet, but I’m grateful you’ve said it all the same.” Gold let a small smile of his own take over.

    Before the conversation was usurped by peaceful silence again, Emma added, “And Rum - next time we go to Granny’s, you can have my pickles.”

    Gold tried to hide his grin with another bite of salad, but he knew she saw it.

(*&*)

    When they entered the ice cream parlor across the road, Emma stopped short. The blonde woman behind the counter smiled at her, but it was strained, as though she was holding herself back. In an instant, Gold was next to the sheriff and that smile was replaced by one of customer service.

“Mr. Gold, how wonderful to see you again. It’s been a while.” She pulled out two cones for them, scooping mint into one of them.

“I’m glad to see you still remember my order, Miss Fisher.” Gold nodded to her politely. “Emma?”

“Oh, uh - Rocky Road, please?” Emma said, her spine still tingling with an inexplicable chill.

“Rocky Road,” the woman repeated with a smile, her blue eyes scanning Emma wistfully. “You have good taste.”

    Once their cones had been handed over, Gold paid her. As they walked back out of the parlor, Emma noticed his eyes lingering on her and shook her head, muttering, “It’s nothing.” He nodded slowly, though he seemed disinclined to let it go so quickly. Emma was thankful when he questioned her no further.

    They fell into step, a comfortable silence taking them over once again. Storybrooke always seemed so loud; it was nice for Emma to remind herself that her life was more than just slaying dragons. She realized that she only ever got that with him.

“Thank you, Go- Rum.” She shook her head. “Can I just call you ‘Gold’? I don’t know what I’m trying to prove here. It’s not like you’re jumping around and cackling. Then maybe I’d remember you have a long, weird wizard name.”

    Gold smirked. “I admit, I was attempting to prove my point to you. This is a different world, though. We’re not where we were, and I’m not who I was. ‘Gold’ will do just fine.”

    Emma sighed dramatically. “Thank God. Did people really have to say your name three times? What would have happened if they got tripped up on syllable forty ?”

    Gold let out a puff of breath that could pass as a laugh before saying, “Good afternoon, Em-ma.”

“See ya later, Gold.” She wriggled her shoulders. “ So much better.”

Chapter Text

    The next morning, Gold felt very caught in his own head. The open ended question that the Savior had left unanswered about their outing made his skin tingle. Memories of Belle flashed through his mind along with those of Zelena, making his chest tighten and his breath shallow. He was still coming to terms with the fact that maybe he thought of her as more than just his means to an end; thinking of having a romantic relationship with his son’s love wrenched his gut.

    Before magic had been brought back, Gold had flirted with her unabashedly, though he hadn’t expected anything to come of it. It had been fun, admittedly, to have someone who wasn’t afraid of him. Even Regina showed her fear at times. Part of him thought that Emma only stood so bravely against him because she had never seen him crush a heart. He pondered whether she actually knew what she was doing, spending so much time with him. She was a hero at heart, however; hell bent on giving everyone their Happy Endings. Gold wondered if she had ever thought about receiving her own.

    His cloudy mind kept telling him to keep the Savior a safe distance away as he laid out his black suit. Maybe she meant more to him than as just his knight, but even so, it was an absurd coupling. He flicked through the shirts in his closet, coming to rest at the striped purple. It suited the color of his frayed thoughts, so he set it out next to his suit and chose a patterned purple tie to match. His darkness would always clash with her light, like it had with Belle, but Emma was different. She didn’t come from a land of heroes and villains; she came from a world of good and bad and necessary. She had a controlled darkness of her own, one that could meet his head on, if only for a little while. He thought of what it would be like, to have her hand on his shoulder, to have her words in his ear telling him that Zelena was gone. If any of them would see to the witch’s demise, it would be Emma. And after that, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to sleep with the lights off, as long as someone was there to fight the monsters under the bed with him.

    He straightened his clothes, studying himself in the mirror for an imperfection to fix. Today was his last day having his suits hang off of him; he had had the majority of his clothes delivered to his tailor by Dove after returning home the previous evening. Before Zelena, he had never let himself leave the house looking anything less than completely put together and collected. The suits themselves meant little to him, but the fact that he could have them reminded him how his worth had gone up in the world. Appearances mattered, and he was determined never to be the peasant coward again.

    Gold sneered at his reflection. He thought that he might as well have been a peasant. He looked starved and desperate and scared. Everything he had been, he was again, and that made him hate himself more than anything. He would put himself back together, with Emma’s help, if it killed him. And then he’d drop a house on the witch.

(*&*)

    When Gold reached the diner, he took his usual seat in the booth by the window. Two curses and a kidnapping later, and it was still his favorite spot in the building. Red came by to take his order, posture as rigid and defensive as always, and he reveled in it. A giddy feeling worked its way through him at the thought of returning to who he had been. He had kept a few, like the one he wore now, in hopes that he would grow into it again.

    When Red came by again with his tea, Gold paid her the exact amount she was owed. Her scowl sparked a memory in his mind of a time when the original curse was first breaking and she had put her hands on cocked hips and asked him boldly why he never tipped her. He had given her his crocodile smile and told her that it was all going to end up in his pocket anyway. That thought led to another: that was the bad guy Emma saw. Her parents warned her of a mad sorcerer who wouldn’t hesitate to rip a heart out, but she saw an arrogant man who took what he wanted. Between their two realms, evil meant different things, and she had yet to learn what her parents meant. Gold would enjoy her until that time came.

    He continued to sip at his tea as people came and went, thinking of all the times he had enjoyed before Zelena, before Belle. He scanned the newspaper, picking out pieces here and there, though none of it was very interesting. The witch’s capture and imprisonment was on the front page, followed by all the people still missing. He wondered how many of them were lost and how many were monkeys. It was strange to think of himself as one among many victims, and Gold couldn’t decide whether it was comforting or disconcerting.

    As the breakfast rush picked up, Gold began to resent the rising din and hurried to finish his drink. The laughter was too high-pitched, the movements were all too close, and he swore he saw a flash of red hair among that throng of people. The clash of a pan clattering to the floor came from the kitchen, and suddenly, Gold was deaf to the world.

*

    The noise of the door slamming shut rang through Gold’s head as he watched the witch pace the length of his cage. He wanted nothing more than to pin her to the mesh and snap her neck, but he knew he could wish until he was blue in the face to no avail. The only thing worse than Zelena calling him her pet was the fact that his dagger made it true.

    She came to stand in front of where he knelt on the ground, grabbing one of his hands and ignoring the growl he issued her. “How are your hands, doll? Healing nicely?”

    Gold snorted, though he longed to sever her throat. “You know bloody well that they’re not. At least they aren’t green.”

    Zelena gave him a vicious smile, lacing their fingers together and squeezing. He bit back a scream, refusing to turn away from her eyes - refusing to cower. He felt almost vindicated every time he stood up to her. He felt brave, like Belle wanted him to be.

*

    Gold sat at his booth, eyes glassy and hand curled so hard into the table that his nails left scratches. Red watched discreetly from behind the counter as he flinched away from nothing. His body looked stiff and frozen, and she bit her lip in indecision. The small, almost inaudible, noise that fell from his mouth was caught only by her wolf senses and pulled her to his side. Whether Red liked him or not, she wouldn’t leave him there like that. She whispered his name once, hoping that the other customers wouldn’t notice anything. When he didn’t move, she gently touched his face, hoping to shock him out of whatever daze he was in.

*

    As her fingers squeezed his, she brought the hand holding the dagger up to brush the side of his face, snarling when he jerked away from her. Zelena wrapped her digits around his jaw, yanking his head back to face her. The hilt of the dagger dug into his neck, and Gold could feel its edge under his jaw.

“Don’t pull away from me,” Zelena hissed.

    The command raced through his body, stiffening it further, tugging invisible strings. Zelena released his face and his hand only to touch the dagger to his collarbone threateningly. She brought her other hand to his face again. The curse kept him from pulling away, but Gold did manage to flinch in the other direction. He gritted his teeth together when the dagger pierced his skin, and screamed when it traced his collarbone in a bloody trail, following the line of a barely-closed wound from Zelena's previous frustrations.

“Now, love,” Zelena said softly, “I’m going to give you time to think about your actions. I know this pathetic little show is meant to prove something. Ask yourself what it costs you to keep it up. Ta ta for now.”

*

    Red contemplated shaking him but didn’t want to incur his wrath. She looked around nervously. A few people had glanced over curiously, but he didn’t seem to be drawing too much attention. She called his name again, a little louder this time.

    Gold looked up, hearing his name. “Belle? Belle, go. You can’t be here.”

    A sweet laugh came from the top of the steps, pulling at his heart. “No, Rumple, it’s okay; I promise.”

    As she descended the steps and came to stand in front of the cage, Gold saw the dagger in her hand. She pushed the cage door open fearlessly and walked inside. Nothing happened. He yearned to wrap her in his arms and kiss her like he hadn’t done in so long, but something was wrong. She had a glint in her eye.

“What are you waiting for, my love? We can go home.” Belle held out her arms toward him.

    Gold shook his head slowly, feeling the pain from his earlier wound. “Something’s not right.”

    Belle smiled sadly. “Of course something’s not right. Your son is dead, Rumple. And you killed him.”

“W-What?” Gold took a step back. “Why would you say that, Belle?”

    Matching him, she took a step forward, the dagger clutched tightly against her palm. “Because it’s true. Surely you’re not surprised, my love. You kill people all the time. It’s who you are.”

    Tears prickled at his eyes, blurring his vision. “You don’t mean that.”

    Belle continued as if she hadn’t heard him: “It’s not just people you kill, Rumple. You kill dreams, too. I wanted to see the world. Do you remember?”

“You’re not Belle. You’re not Belle.” Gold took another step away from her, hitting the back of the cage.

“Emma Swan was going to be a princess.” Belle smiled at him, as though she was whispering sweet words. “Did you know that she lived on the streets for a time? Her father still practices the steps he would have walked with her for her first dance. Her mother has a dress picked out that will never fit her again.”

    Gold’s fingers curled into the mesh. “If she hadn’t come here, Henry wouldn’t have been born.”

“That’s your excuse for ruining so many dreams, my love?” She was in front of him, running her fingers through his hair in a mockery of comfort. “How did I ever fall for you? You stole me away from my home. You beat my father. You trapped me.”

“I’m sorry.” Gold tasted salt, realizing that his tears were running into his mouth. “I’m a bad man.”

“You’re not a man at all, Rumplestiltskin.” Belle brought her lips to his cheek, kissing his tears away, but they just came faster. “After all, what kind of man would abandon his son in a strange world all alone?”

“A monster,” Gold’s voice broke. “I’m a monster.”

“Try again, my love,” Belle whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth gently. “Monsters are creatures to be feared. Who would fear a poor, crippled spinner?”

    Gold let his forehead rest on her shoulder as she carded her fingers through his hair, the dagger held in the hand that braced her against the cage. “What am I, then?”

“You are nothing,” Belle crooned. “Nothing at all.”

    Gold cried on her shoulder for hours, letting her pet his hair and speak oh-so softly to him. She held him and comforted him as he sobbed. Somewhere deep in his mind, he knew it wasn’t her. Deep, deep in his mind.

“It was my fault,” Gold whispered.

    Belle kept running her fingers through his hair soothingly. “Yes, my love. It was your fault.”

    When Red saw a tear track its way down Gold’s cheek, she knew it was time to wake him up from whatever sleep he’d fallen into. Disregarding the magic he may bring down on her, she shook his shoulder roughly. She saw the moment Gold’s eyes came back into focus. He looked at her for a moment, his eyes raw and hurt, before he realized who she was. He looked as though he might say something, but instead he stood calmly, nodded to her, and walked out the door.

    Gold walked down the street, unfocused and unsure. His feet carried him to his shop without guidance. The ringing bell for once brought him no peace of mind. It reminded him of when Belle had stormed out, and later when she had come back to tell him that she would stay because he was a monster. She had said it with such sweetness that he hadn’t doubted that she could make him better. She had always said things to him with sweetness, but not love - never love. He had been her project, and then he had gone and broken himself beyond repair.

    Gold entered the back room, running his fingers over the collar of his shirt. He knew everything that lay beneath it. As many scars as Zelena could have put on his body, none of them ever would have reached so deep as the words she had spoken to him with Belle’s face. The truth spoken in soft words stung more than any wound ever could. As he stared at his reflection in the mirror, Gold scoffed.

“It was your bloody fault.”

    He laughed, harder than he had in a long time. He laughed until he had no breath, until his throat was raw. Then he punched the mirror until it was as shattered as he felt. When he stopped to admire the shards of glass in his hand, Gold could feel the tears streaking down his face. He looked at the floor and saw seven faces from seven angles looking back at him from the broken pieces. He picked them up and threw them at the wall one at a time.

     One for Baelfire, the son of a coward.

    One for Lady Belle, who was stolen away by a beast.

    One for Henry Mills, the fatherless dreamer.

    One for Emma Swan, the lost little orphan.

    One for Regina Mills, who was made into a monster.

    One for Prince Charming, who missed that first dance.

    One for Snow White, who lost her only daughter.

    Gold sat back on his work bench, his breathing heavy. He surveyed the bits of glass littering his back room emptily. Belle had left for a reason. Emma was his son’s one love; Gold shouldn’t be taking advantage of her. He felt disgusted. He started picking the glass out of his hands, watching his skin heal. He hated himself a little more for every bit that came out.

    Mere seconds after Gold had taken the last bit of glass out, the shop’s bell rang out, followed by Regina’s angry call: “Rumplestiltskin!”

    Gold moved his jaw, hearing it pop and coming back to himself. He got up slowly, taking his time to collect himself before brushing the curtain aside. “No need to scream, dearie.”

“There’s a big need to scream, actually. We have a problem.” David slammed the door as he stepped inside.

“Yes,” Gold hissed somewhat apathetically, “I gathered that when you barged in, but there’s no need to take it out on my little bell.”

“I’m going to take something out on your little bell if -” David stopped when Snow put a calming hand on his chest, though he still seethed.

    Gold let a smug quirk come to his lips. “Whatever seems to be the matter?”

    Emma pushed her way to the front of the gaggle, resting her hands on the glass counter in front of him and meeting his eyes brazenly. “Flying monkeys - lots of ‘em. Zelena won’t tell us how to stop them.”

“I’m sure I can come up with something, my dear.” Gold inclined his head in acknowledgement.

“What’s your price?” Snow asked wearily, stepping away from her charming prince.

    Gold smirked.

Chapter Text

“We’ll all owe you a favor?” Emma repeated.

“Collectively,” Gold added before nodding his agreement.

    Regina motioned vaguely with her hand. “And if we don’t like what you ask of us?”

    Gold smiled slyly. “Well then that’s just too bad, isn’t it?”

“No.” David shook his head, then stepped towards his daughter when he saw her considering it. “Emma, we can’t! We won’t.”

“Oh, I think you will, dearie.” Gold smirked. “You wouldn’t be coming to me if you had another option.”

    Before David could protest further, Emma held up a hand. “Look, he’s right. We don’t have another way, and we don’t have time to argue.” She looked at Gold. “Deal.”

“Emma!” Snow chided.

“Too late now, dearie.” Gold bared his teeth in a shark smile. “The deal is struck.”

    Emma scoffed. “Do you practice that in front of a mirror?”

    Gold cast a glance at Regina. “It just so happens that I don’t trust mirrors.”

    He rounded the counter and strode to the door, pulling back the drapes to peek outside. Zelena’s flying monkeys were swooping at people’s heads while the townsfolk ran around overturned cars and felled lamp posts. Several electrical lines hung in the air, sparking at the snapped ends. Cracks ran through the asphalt of the street, tripping those who didn’t watch where they were going.

“Surely the pests haven’t done all this?” Gold turned to Emma for clarification.

    She shook her head. “There was a burst of magic before they appeared - an earthquake. How did you not feel that?”

    Gold turned his eyes back to the window, thinking of the broken mirror in the back room. “I was otherwise engaged.”

“So how do we stop them?” David asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

    Gold let out a puff of air that passed as a laugh. “Stop them? Those are the townsfolk, dearie. I can shoot them out of the air if you’d like, but I have an inkling that that’s not the solution you seek.”

“No, it’s not,” Snow agreed. “So what do we do?”

“Not ‘we,’ dearie, me . I need to have a little chat with our resident zookeeper.” Gold grimaced, imagining all the different things he couldn’t do to the witch while she was locked up.

“Very well.” Regina’s hands went up, and they were all engulfed in purple smoke.  

    When it cleared, they found themselves in her mansion, surrounded by marble and smooth wallpaper. Gold ran a hand over his tie, wishing that this catastrophe had waited until he had his new suits. He wanted that time to speak to the witch by himself, though - to promise her that he would rip her throat out.

“I’ll be speaking to her alone, so feel free to mingle.” When David opened his mouth to protest, Gold continued, “Powerful sorcerers only.”

    Regina smoothed out her dress. “Then I’ll come too and make sure you behave.”

    Gold turned and walked towards the basement door. “I said ‘powerful.’”

    When Gold reached the basement, he took a moment to remember how to breathe. He resented everything - the steady glow of the overhead lights, the comfortable bed, the toilet, the book Zelena held. It was all more than he had had. He burned to take it all away, to turn out the lights, to drag his dagger over every inch of her pretty pale skin.

“I would have knocked,” Gold said by way of greeting, “but I didn’t see the point.”

    Zelena put her book down, appearing delighted. “Don’t worry, doll; I forgive you. It’s terribly lonely down here, you know. I’ve missed you.”

    A million responses filled his head, some more colorful than others. Gold clenched his jaw, however, and held his breath. He walked over to her cell carefully, hating that she didn’t shrink back. Irrational fears that she would reach through the bars and gain control of him again raced through his mind. His fingers wrapped around the bars as he pretended it was her throat he was squeezing. She was always in his head, a phantom pain, a wisp of curly hair, never real. Now she was in front of him, finally, and his hands were trembling. He held all the power of the present, but she held all the power of the past. He snarled.

“How do I turn the monkeys back, Zelena?”

    Zelena stepped forward until they were nose to nose and sharing the same breath. “Why would I tell you that, love?”

    Gold’s hand shot through the bars, wrapping around her throat like he had dreamed of doing for over a year. He squeezed until he saw real fear flash through her eyes, and he reveled in it, more than the fear of the townsfolk by far. He squeezed until he knew it would bruise and he could hear her strained gasps.

“Because I’m going to come back tonight, doll , and I’m going to make you scream.” Gold smiled, all teeth and hatred. “I will make you scream until your throat bleeds , and then I will cut the screams out of you. I will burn your flesh from your bones, and then I will put it back and do it again. I will reach my hand down your throat until I find your heart, and I will rip it out and show it to you as you choke on your organs.”

“The heroes - would never - let you,” Zelena rasped.

“They’ve already made the deal, dearie; they just don’t know it yet.” Gold brought his lips to her ear. “It would be in your best interest to tell me what I want to know. However bad you think this will be, I can promise you it will be worse.”

    Zelena shook her head, still gasping for air.

    Something broke behind his eyes, and hers went wide with true terror. “‘I know this pathetic little show is meant to prove something. Ask yourself what it costs you to keep it up.’”

    She struggled for another moment before nodding as much as she could. Gold released her and watched as she fell to the floor. Her breaths came in hard gulps, and he wished he had held on until she blacked out. When she stood, he clasped her wrist in a death grip and heard something pop. Gold pulled the limb through the bars until she was pressed against them and couldn’t move.

    Zelena glared at him hatefully as she spoke. “Their blood has to come in contact with a form shifting potion.”

    Gold released her for the second time, and she cradled her wrist to her chest. “I’ll be back tonight, dearie. Say goodbye to your loved ones - oh, wait.” He sneered as he turned to leave.

    After Gold had ascended the stairs, he stood in front of the heroes, who stared expectantly. He would wait until after the monkeys were saved to tell them his price. Emma’s eyes were hooded, and he knew she knew. She didn’t argue, though, and he realized why they understood each other so well. That mutual darkness they shared bonded them in more ways than one.

“Well?” Regina pressed impatiently.

“It took a little convincing, but I can be rather persuasive. I know what we must do.” Gold walked past them, to the door.

    Regina’s heels clacked quickly behind him. “Care to share?”

“I don’t, actually.” He turned to face them all, forcing Regina to come to an abrupt halt, and spread his hands in front of him. “I suppose you’ll just have to trust me.”

“You mean you’re doing this with us?” David asked skeptically.

“Well of course.” Gold laughed, dripping with condescension. “I can’t have you messing this up, now can I?”

    The five of them went up in another plume of smoke - this time deep red - reappearing in the center of his shop. Gold pointed David and Snow to the swords on the wall, leaving the couple to get them down. He turned and strode to the curtain, gesturing for Emma to follow. When he heard Regina’s heels once again, he turned and made a shooing motion.

“No, no - not you, dearie.”

    Gold turned his back on Regina’s sneer, holding the curtain aside for Emma to walk through. She stood awkwardly near his workbench, not sure what to touch and what not to touch, and pointedly ignoring the broken glass that covered the floor. She looked nervous, out of her element. Gold smiled to himself, thinking of the irony - the product of True Love, uncomfortable around magic. She came from a world of guns and medicine and science, where some problems just weren’t meant to be solved.

“We’re going to do a little magic, my dear. I hope you’re ready to learn.” Gold pulled a dusty box down from one of the many cluttered shelves, blowing the thick film from the top of it.

“Uh, I don’t know if you remember almost drowning your archenemy, but - I don’t have magic anymore.” Emma crossed her arms, looking almost relieved at the prospect.

    Gold filed away a mysterious pang that went through him at the thought of her kissing Jones and pulled a face. “Mm, yes - the pirate . No matter.” He waved a hand dismissively, flipping the latches on the box and opening it carefully to reveal sorted ingredients. “That’s not how magic works - not yours, at least.” He looked over at her, leaning across the table until their faces were only inches apart. “ Your magic is a piece of you, like your abundant sarcasm and your persisting morals - it’s part of what makes you Emma Swan. A simple curse cannot take that away.”

    Gold leaned back again, placing several things from inside the box on the table. He shut the box again, then turned to another busy shelf and grabbed a squat glass bottle with a wide opening. He placed it next to the ingredients, picking up a clean rag from the worktable and cleaning the bottle.

“Besides, we’re making a potion; anyone can make a potion as long as they’re not a fool.” Gold shrugged easily.

“Gee, thanks.” Emma said sarcastically.

    Gold gave her his approximation of an encouraging smile. “There’s no need to fret, potions are a good place to start. You don’t have to be perfect; I’m here to assist you.”

    Emma looked down at the ingredients, picking one up as the screech of a monkey rang through the shop from outside. “Potions, huh? Like eye of newt and hole of donut ?”

    Gold scoffed. “I’m fairly certain there’s no ‘hole of donut’ in there.”

    Emma shrugged. “I’m hungry.”

    Ignoring her comment, Gold began an explanation. “We’ll be making a form shifting potion. It is simple, but all potions require focus - all magic requires focus. As this is an emergency, I will refrain from distracting you. If, however, you come to me for magic lessons in the future - which I strongly advise - things will be different.”

    Gold gave her his first instruction, watching her hand inch towards the ingredient nervously. She bit her cheek, pulling her hand back quickly.

“Are you sure about this? I mean one wrong bibbidi bobbidi boo and we’re all dead, right?” Emma raised her eyebrows for emphasis.

“If it’s a pep talk you desire, my dear, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.” Gold sighed as she took a step back from the bench. “Emma, please. I understand that you lived in a world where you learned to handle things by yourself, but you aren’t there anymore. This is a different place entirely, and if you don’t learn how it works, you become a liability to your family in every fight. You did well with the dragon, but what would you have done if instead of a beast, she had been in her witch form? You are the Savior, whether you like it or not, and Saviors use magic, not guns.”

“Maybe I want to be a different kind of Savior,” Emma protested stubbornly.

“You don’t want to be a Savior at all.” Gold shook his head in exasperation. “You’ve spent your whole life running from the fact that you were meant to be a hero. You stop here and there to help people, refusing to acknowledge that doing so makes you better than how you see yourself. You are a different kind of Savior, Emma. You have all the darkness to balance out the light - the potential for it, at least. Your parents went to great lengths to make sure you would be pure of heart.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Emma crossed her arms over her chest, so reminiscent of her father.

“It means that you were only meant to be a hero because you were given no other option. But this is a conversation for another time.” A second screech sounded throughout the shop. “For now you must decide - are you going to do what everyone expects you to do and save them?”

    Emma set her lips in a firm line, uncrossing her arms to reach for the ingredient Gold had indicated. He showed her what to slice and what to grind, and then how to add it. At one point, he set the glass on a burner and showed her the proper amount of time to heat it. When they reached the end of their process, Gold had her stir the potion three times counterclockwise with a thin stick.

“How do you know which way to stir?” Emma asked curiously.

    Gold bent down to study the potion. “One stirs clockwise to affect and counterclockwise to reverse.”

    Emma nodded slowly. “That actually makes sense.”

“Magic isn’t as unbridled as it seems, my dear.” Gold stood with a satisfied look. “It - like many things - is balanced, and therefore has rules. We have finished. You did well.”

    Emma stared down at the bluish liquid, not trying to hide her smirk. She began the next batch with a confident air and a slight hop to her step. Gold hid his small smile behind his work, pleased that she was learning that magic could be more than difficult and disappointing. He was getting a chance to show her his side of things.

    Once they finished, they loaded all the potions into a box and Emma carried it out through the shop door. Outside, monkeys still swooped through the air, and small fires had sparked off from the dangling power lines; but there was also a group of people waiting on the street, all holding a weapon of some form.

    David, with his sword gripped tight and resting on his shoulder, grinned at his daughter. “We thought you could use some backup.”

“Thanks, David.” Emma smiled before setting the box on the ground. “Okay, everyone, dip arrows in here - no bullets unless your name’s Robin Hood.”

    Gold leaned towards her and whispered, “I believe he went missing shortly after Zelena was imprisoned.”

“Wha-” Emma gave him a confused look. “No, I meant- never mind.” She looked back to the small gathering. “Sword edges get coated. Don’t waste a drop , got it? If we run out, we won’t have time to make more. Just nick ‘em - these monkeys are people, probably people you know.”

    Everyone hastened to comply, careful with their usage of the potions under Emma’s watchful eye. Gold surveyed her for a moment, easily imagining her as the future queen of the Enchanted Forest. If he hadn’t ripped her away from her rightful place, she would have made an excellent leader, he thought.

    She looked over and caught him staring. “What?”

    Gold shook his head. “As little as you wish to be the Savior, Emma, you can’t deny that you make a superlative one.”

    She blushed and looked away, and Gold felt a frown tilt his lips. If it hadn’t been for his curse, Emma would have grown up with one compliment after another, endless love and respect. Instead, she didn’t even know how to accept one without feeling unsettled. He had done that. Gold moved his stare to his fingers, contemplating the heavy feeling in his chest as he heard monkeys screech above them.

“Grab a weapon,” Emma broke his reverie.

    He nodded without a word, striding back into his shop. Gold went straight to the back room, taking a sword down from one of his shelves. The hilt was that of a golden dragon with its wings spread as the cross guard. The blade sprouted up from behind the dragon’s head. It was pitch black metal with golden snakes curling down to the hilt, the tails starting at the tip of the sword.

    Gold had crafted it himself shortly after he had first become the Dark One. It had been cast aside some time later, only reappearing when it came over in the second curse. He scoffed, remembering that his reason for making it had been simply that he could. He had been ridiculed all his life by that time for being a spinner, so he had chosen to prove to himself that he could be a craftsman as well.

“Funny how times change,” he muttered before exiting his shop.

    Out on the street, Gold coated the edges of his sword, raising his eyebrows challengingly towards anyone who looked curious. He didn’t often fight, and fought less often still for the heroes, but today was different. Today he was fighting for the right to avenge his son’s death.

    It took only seconds before the monkeys noticed them, diving down into the chaos of the street to be met with weapons and an angry grandmother with a crossbow. Another minute and small battles had broken out up and down Second Avenue. Gold waited to see if Zelena had told the truth about the cure, watching with a disguised surprise as monkeys tumbled out of the air to collapse as humans.

    To the left of Gold’s shop, David had his sword at the ready, surrounded by three of the simians. The first one to dive at him came from behind, claws and fangs bared. He swung his sword with restraint, hoping only to nick the creature. Its wings beat forward, though, pushing it out of reach. The other two monkeys dove down directly afterwards, attacking synonymously. One wrapped its claws around his sword while the other bit into his shoulder. He grunted in pain but gritted his teeth and pushed with all his strength. The monkey on his sword let go, and he quickly slashed across its stomach, watching for only a moment as it began to transform. As he turned towards the remaining two, the one nearest to him jolted forward, fangs gaping, only to be interrupted by an arrow dinting its shoulder. The last one, in its hurry to escape, missed entirely the sword coming for it until its tail had been nicked. David turned to see Snow smiling with another arrow poised, and smiled right back.

    Snow slung her bow back over her shoulder after aiding David, pulling out a sword instead. Surely he could stay out of trouble while she fought the large monkey flying towards her. It aimed for her face, claws first. Her sword came up to meet it, clanging off its talon-tipped toes. It screeched at her, landing on the ground in front of her, standing as a human would. She swung her sword at it once more, this time having it caught in the beast’s teeth. Snow yanked it back to her side, feigning a left strike and then spinning to the right, catching the simian in the side. It howled, collapsing to the ground as its wings shrunk into its back. With the hair receding, she could see Little John emerging from behind the animalistic mask. Perhaps Robin - who Regina had been searching for non-stop - was among these ranks as well. Snow turned to find David, against her best hopes, in trouble once more. As he attempted to wake the newly-transformed people, another monkey flew towards him from behind. She quickly dropped her sword and took her bow from her shoulder, readying an arrow. With a slowly drawn breath, she released an arrow that cut cleanly across the creature’s abdomen, sending it tumbling into the concrete.

    David turned around sharply, watching the transformation begin, before turning to her with a smile. “Thanks, honey!”

“You should really watch your flank, Charming,” Snow chided, hands on hips.

“Never.” He grinned cheekily. “That’s your job.”

    Grumpy and Bashful, across the street, swung aimlessly at anything that got too close, using their pickaxes like swords. Though they had had enough luck to hit several, they were quickly becoming overwhelmed. No matter how many were struck out of the sky, it seemed that more townsfolk had been bewitched than anyone had realized.

    Red wasn’t particularly happy with using a sword; she would have preferred just eating the monkeys - it would have been simpler. She almost missed the days when she had been the strangest thing in her village. Granny, however, was very comfortable with her weapon - Sally the Slayer, as her crossbow had been dubbed - and was easily shooting down simian after simian. Distracted as she was by her grandmother’s impressive bloodlust, Red was tackled by a monkey. Claws sank into her shoulder, and she swung her sword clumsily, growling in pain.

“Yes!” she sounded her victory when her sword landed, ignoring the blood that dripped onto her face.

    Emma readied her sword for the next attack, measuring her success by the number of wing-less people that tumbled away from her with bloody arms or legs. The sky was getting clearer, but the remaining monkeys were becoming smarter. In answer to her battle-ready stance, three monkeys landed around her, a fourth hovering behind her. She moved her weapon effortlessly, keeping claws at bay, but the group was overwhelming. Just when fangs started reaching flesh, a dark blade sliced across the abdomen of the flying monkey, then the shoulder of another of the beasts. Taking advantage of the opening, Emma finished the last two with quick slashes and shallow cuts.

“I had that.” Emma turned defensively.

    Gold’s smirk met her head on. “I have no doubt, my dear Savior. Perhaps it is I who needs your assistance?”

    Emma scoffed, but a smile tugged at her lips. “Well, I suppose if you’re really desperate…”

    Gold gave her a small smile, nodding behind her. She turned, pushing her sword through the air until it met the shoulder of a monkey. With an, “Okay, you can stay,” Gold turned and slashed a few of his own monkeys. He wasn’t particularly fond of fighting, but it felt nice to be on the same page as Emma for a little while. Perhaps they were on opposite sides of the line too often. The existence of the fleeting thought frightened him.

    Soon enough, the monkeys seemed to be gone from the sky entirely. Most of the members in the small militia were sweaty and bleeding, but no one was dead - that had become the standard.

“Well done everyone!” David congratulated, always the commander encouraging his troops.

    Gold leaned towards Emma. “I very much doubt that that’s it.”

    She looked back at him with a spark in her eyes. “Just a little too easy, right?”

    Gold took a moment to survey the battle ground. “They’re not wakening up. The magic hasn’t lifted.”

    As Emma nodded to him, others seemed to slowly notice the motionless bodies. Not a twitch escaped a single victim; they all laid exactly as they had fallen.

“Are they dead?” Grumpy deadpanned, followed by frantic questions from others.

“Tell your goons to quiet,” Gold requested of Emma, loud enough for them to hear.

    Grumpy crossed his arms. “Look, sister, we don’t have to listen to you!”

    Ignoring him completely, Gold tapped his sword against Emma’s to regain her attention. “Do you hear that?”

    People began looking around, apparently not hearing what he was. After another moment, Emma placed a hand on Gold’s shoulder, sending a surprised thrill through him and drawing his eyes to her nodding head. They both looked down, listening to the water-like sound coming from around them. Emma’s fingers tightened subconsciously on his shoulder as she cast a worried glance to her parents. Gold took a moment to think about the trust she had been putting in him, and how very misplaced it was. That deal that they had made not so long ago and everything that had followed had only two purposes - Zelena’s death and Gold’s ability to get away with it. And yet… maybe he wanted something else, too.

“That’s something you don’t see every day,” Emma muttered, withdrawing her hand to wrap it around her sword’s hilt.

    Gold chided himself mentally for being lost in such comical thoughts at such a time. He looked around to find the source of Emma’s unease, watching as green mist rose out of the mouths of every motionless body. It gathered in a swirling storm above the buildings, casting dark hues on the broken street and the small fires.

“You know,” Emma’s words once again drew his attention, “I’m really starting to hate the colorful fart clouds that constantly screw up my life.”

    He couldn’t bring himself to argue with her logic. From the purple smoke that had had her family stuffing her into a wardrobe to the green mist that couldn’t mean anything good, Gold could understand why she was still unsure about whether or not to take Henry and run.

    The mist came down in a whirling column, taking shape in the center of Second Avenue. A humanoid figure with large dove wings and scaled legs stepped forward, drawing the remaining magic into its lungs with a long breath. Its claws clicked against the pavement while its nearly-human features surveyed the street.

“What the hell?” Emma said, leaning back as though it had offended her.

“Close, but not quite,” Gold supplied an answer, “That’s a demon - likely from a pocket dimension.”

“A what?” Emma saw him open his mouth. “No - that was rhetorical. I don’t want to know.”

    Gold inclined his head. “As you wish. It never hurts to learn, though.”

“Oh yes, yes it does.” Emma shuddered. “How do we stop it?”

    Gold shook his head at her raised sword. “A simple weapon won’t do. We’ll need something powerful.”

“Do we have something powerful?” She kept her sword raised, ready for a futile battle nonetheless.

    Gold scoffed, dreading his answer and the vulnerability it could bring. Everything came with a price, however, including vengeance - especially vengeance. But was this his fight? “You mean like a magical dagger a few thousand years old that houses souls and darkness beyond basic comprehension?”

“That sounds like it would work.” Emma caught his eyes, and he was almost flattered by the question in hers. He nodded, though he wasn’t sure he had made up his mind. She turned to her parents. “Get everyone out of the streets! I’m going with Gold. He’s got a plan.”

    As the demon seemed to get its barings, Emma and Gold made their way to his shop, shutting the door sharply behind them and setting down their swords. Though the growing sounds of an angry demon easily filtered through the door, there was a certain peace that pervaded the shop. It lured Gold’s darker side to the surface, prompting his selfish nature to conjure up image after image of sealing himself inside with Emma and just talking and laughing while the town burned along with all of their seemingly endless problems.

“Gold, we need to hurry,” Emma reminded hastily. “This is no time to stop being a hero.”

“Have you ever considered it as an option?” he returned quietly. “To stop being a hero?”

“I thought you said I was ‘meant to be a hero.’” She looked at him curiously, though the urgency did not flee her stance.

“Perhaps, but I was not. This isn’t my fight now.” He turned to her slowly, almost apologetically, but not regretfully. “I have what I want, and I’ve completed my end of the deal.”

    Emma opened her mouth every so slightly, and then laughed - a cold, cutting laugh. “The angle, right. You know, I almost thought you’d help - I really meant it when I said you were a good person somewhere in there. Guess I made the same mistake as Belle, huh?”

“That’s your fault, dearie. I told you I was broken. I told you they had a right to fear me, to hate me. You didn’t listen.” Gold smiled bitterly. “I’m not a hero, nor do I desire to be one.” He turned to walk into the back of the shop - he could listen to the town burn on his own.

“Maybe it is my fault, but what the hell was that?” Emma verged on shouting at the back of his head. “Making me think about moving on - with you . Making me think maybe, just maybe , you were the rightest wrong kinda guy who wouldn’t care if I felt like punching someone in the face, ‘cause he felt it too. Making me think that I could do a little bad if you did a little good. I don’t want you to be perfect, Gold, or Prince Charming, or even just nice , but would it blow up your whole world if you could just be on my side - just, just, I don’t know…”

    Someone screamed outside, and for once, the hero inside of Emma stayed silent, selfishly waiting for Gold to tell her to leave. Silence stretched between them, and she wondered how things had gone from good to bad in the ringing of a bell. Maybe they were just a little too precarious before, but surely…

“No.”

“What?” Emma’s head snapped up as Gold turned around once more.

“It wouldn’t blow up my whole world to be on your side.” Gold offered a small, sad smile. “Just part of it - a part I believe I’m willing to lose.”

    Emma choked out a laugh through her swirling emotions, wanting nothing more than to punch him. “I really thought you were going to walk away.”

“So did I,” Gold admitted. “I still want to.”

    Emma nodded slowly. “You know what - so do I.”

“The difference is I’m a coward. I would do it.” Gold pursed his lips.

“I would too if Henry wasn’t waiting at Granny’s.” Emma smiled a smile with no joy.

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“No I wouldn’t.”

    They both laughed for a short moment, full of a mutual frustration, before Gold spoke. “I’m… sorry. I doubt there will come a time in the near future where I don’t have an angle, but it would be nice to be on your side of the board every now and then.”

“That’s already more than I expected.” Emma licked her lips contemplatively, deciding to swallow her pride as he had swallowed his. “I’m sorry that I mentioned Belle. That wasn’t right. I… you are a good person - somewhere in there.”

    If Gold was a brave man, he may have kissed her right then and there; but he stayed where he was, not sure where they stood in their awkward and tentative relationship. He had - somehow - forgotten that she had enough courage and impulse for both of them, though, and was therefore surprised when she wrapped her hand around his tie and pulled his lips onto hers. He had half a mind to pull back - to run and hide and be safe in the knowledge that he wasn’t risking anything. But of course, Gold knew that if nothing was risked, nothing would be gained - and, oh , how he loved to gain. Emma was the wild card in his carefully constructed setup, but that was part of the allure - someone who could surprise him; someone who didn’t fear him.

    When Emma’s lips left his own, they stayed only a breath apart, well aware of the growing chaos outside. Gold spoke first. “When the demon is gone, I’m going to kill her.” There was no need to ask who he meant.

    Emma let her hand fall from his tie, brushing invisible dust off her jacket, breaking the scene and bringing them back to real life. “When the demon is gone, I won’t stop you.” As the candid moment still seemed to hang around them, she continued: “Really, I’m not sure I would have stopped you in the warehouse.”

“Thank you - for not making this more difficult than it need be.” Gold took in a deep breath, steadying his nerves and collecting his composure. In doing this, he convinced himself, he may very well be securing his escape from the heroes’ wrath when he called in his favor. This was similar to when he had helped cure David of the dreamshade for free. The suggestion of a debt could be as powerful as a signed contract, especially to such honor-centric individuals. “To minimize the collateral damage, use the invisible chalk to draw a circle around the demon and me. You didn’t use it all to stall Cora, did you?”

    Emma snorted derisively. “Did I use all the invisible chalk? I dunno, let me go see .”

“There’s no need to be snippy, m’dear.” Gold walked behind the counter, crouching down to open his floor safe. Emma went in search of the seemingly empty glass container that housed the chalk. He removed his numerous wards, becoming more unsure with each layer of protection that was stripped away.

    She only wants to use you.

    She’ll take your dagger when you’re done.

    From one puppeteer to the next.

    You give your heart away so often; keep it for yourself this time.

    The Savior? You think she’ll want you?

“Got it!” Emma came out of the back, holding the glass jar up triumphantly.

    Gold nodded to her, pulling the dagger out of the safe carefully. He was risking everything that he had left on the desperate hope that Emma would grab his hand and haul him away from the cliff edge that he had been hanging off of for over a year. He was being selfish again, he knew. He had promised himself that his whole being would be devoted to avenging his son, and here he was again, falling down that same rabbit hole he kept tripping over. Even if she became bored of him and wandered away, he wanted to live ; whether it was with someone or not. She was just the rope he was pulling himself up with for now. Those thoughts steeled his nerves, allowing him to make the bid he needed to for his future.

“Are you ready?” Gold asked with a sideways glance, half of his attention devoted to the blood congealed in the scrollwork of his dagger. His blood, which he hadn’t been able to clean without his stomach turning.

    Thankfully, Emma either didn’t see it or chose not to mention it. “As I’ll ever be. Hey, you’re immortal, right? So this is, like… no big thing?”

“There are risks beside death, but I have a witch on the other side of this battle that needs flaying, so I’m sure I’ll manage.” Gold gave her a strained smile.

    Emma nodded, though she seemed solemn. Perhaps her thoughts were beyond the battle, as his were. As honest as they had both been with each other, they had left more unsaid than said. Neither of them were particularly good at being an easy puzzle, and yet both of them yearned to solve the other.

Chapter Text

    They walked out of the shop together, being greeted by a, “Well you two certainly took your time,” from Regina, and a, “We’re being attacked out here, ya know!” from Grumpy. Emma looked over at Gold guiltily, but he just shrugged, indifferent to their plight.

    Gold allowed his magic to dance in the air, grabbing it with his mind and molding it into one long line of crackling darkness. He let the negative emotions that summoned dark magic boil, memory after memory flooding his head, sharpening his power until it whipped around him, ready to be commanded. He ordered it to lash out, watching the demon closely as his magic wrapped around it to hold it in place. The demon struggled, and his magic strained, but it stayed somewhat where it was. Emma moved quickly, for which Gold was grateful, drawing a large circle - that was really more of an oval - into the pavement. Gold looked up, sensing the magic stretching into the sky until it reached its limit, folding back in on itself to create a dome. It certainly wasn’t strong enough to keep the demon trapped, but if its attention was focused on him, then the chalk would provide a boundary for their battle grounds.

    The people of Storybrooke who had so helpfully moved out of the way when they were in immediate danger now gathered around the flimsy barrier, always intent to watch a spectacle. Whispers and confirmations circled about who it was fighting the demon, and he could understand why they were all confused. He himself was beginning to question if such a large deed was worth garnering points from the heroes to go towards his chances at continued freedom and helping someone that could easily turn on him.

    Before Gold could go too far down that path of thought, the demon broke free of its bonds, dashing for the crowd of people with a growl and bouncing off the invisible wall. Townsfolk jumped back in fright, no less fearful for having Rumplestiltskin as their guard. Confounded by the wavering magic for only a second, the demon quickly turned its attention to Gold, giving him a toothy smile. It beat its wings, sending itself into the air to have a better vantage point. Gold called his magic to him, deciding that defense would be the better choice since the demon likely had more stamina than him - being a creature made of dark magic, not confined to a mortal form. He dearly missed the body he had had in the Enchanted Forest.

    The demon flung its arms forward, sending not so much of a spell as just pure, raw dark magic at Gold. Prepared for the attack, he brought up a full-strength shield to gauge how powerful it really needed to be to fend off the demon’s advances. To his chagrin, it took every bit of strength in the shield to keep the wave of magic from reaching him. Fleetingly, Gold wondered how Zelena had managed to summon a creature powerful enough to match the Dark One - the strongest mortal sorcerer in all the realms - in magic.

    Despite the clout, Gold’s shield did not waver, tapering out only after the last of the magic had faded. He thought about returning an attack, but with the strength of the demon, he decided that it was unwise to waste energy on something that might not reach its target. However, his lack of retaliation seemed to bore the dark being, and Gold was sure defense wouldn’t be enough for long.

    Another wave of magic was released, this one not only visible, but almost flowing in the air. Full-strength shields took up too much energy for Gold to keep them constant, so he instead sent his own wave of raw magic back at the demon. Everything clashed in a roar like a tidal wave, the demon catching the shock in its wings; Gold however, was thrown against the flickering dome, landing in a heap on the ground. Muttering went through the crowd around him, questioning how something powerful enough to stand against the Dark One would be stopped if it was loosed in the town.

    Gold blinked his eyes several times, his head pounding. It had been jarring, but it was far from the worst thing he had ever experienced. Coming back to himself, he moved his hands under his body, feeling where they were scraped from catching his fall. His dagger pressed against his ribs from inside his coat pocket, reminding him of his goal. Gold looked over at the edge of the crowd, spotting Emma with her arms raised, attempting to herd the people of Storybrooke to safety. It was a sort of comfort in an odd way, to know that she was the same Emma as she had been before - not overly worried for him, and still as heroic as ever. A kiss truly didn’t change that much - almost nothing at all, in fact.

    Recovering from the aftershock much faster than its opponent, the demon threw its hand out, releasing a pointed stream of magic - a slightly more complex spell - into the bottom of the dome. Gold was able to push himself up, though the world seemed to spin around him, and his unhealed wounds from months prior reminded him sharply of their presence. He watched as the blade of magic hit the side of the shield, causing it to flicker, and bounced off to jar the other side. If it ricocheted for much longer, the shield would go down altogether.

    As he had when originally holding the demon down, Gold commanded his magic to come together in his hand, creating a lone stream of power. He tossed it out, allowing it to catch on the demon’s magic. It tried to pull him with it, but he dug his heels in and yanked on his rope-like creation. The separate magics warred with each other as the man and the demon painstakingly held their spells together. Sweat beaded on Gold’s forehead, and for a moment, he had the absurd thought that he was glad that he wasn’t wearing one of his new suits, because this one was torn from his fall. The randomness of it almost made him laugh, and he felt as though he was going mad - in a cage of his own request, willingly with his dagger in a vulnerable place, fighting a fight that wasn’t his because someone he might eventually care for very much asked him to just be a little better. Maybe that was it. Maybe he wanted to be a little better.

    The demon hissed at Gold, and he had half a mind to hiss back before it swooped down, dragging its talons across his shoulders in an attempt to have him release his magic. He held tightly, though, gritting his teeth against the sudden pain. He freed one of his hands to form a fireball, letting it loose in the dome to chase the demon. The distraction would only last for a couple of minutes, he was sure, but it worked for now. His ears caught the mutterings of the crowd, drawing his attention to the bystanders. Emma was looking doubtful, and he wasn’t sure if that pertained to the altercation or their previous interaction. He wouldn’t blame her for having second thoughts about kissing the Dark One. Continuing his search of the gathering, a word jumped out at him, catching him off guard: dagger . His mind reeled, his fingers slipping ever so slightly, as he became aware that they knew . Gold’s world suddenly felt like it was folding in on itself inexplicably. All of that pretending, but they knew, they knew, they knew . His dagger wasn’t a secret, and they all knew it was with him - right there , so easy to take if he fell to the demon. After all of the convincing he had done to himself, he knew they knew. What the dagger could do and what Zelena did with it were well known facts, and he hated it. More than that, he feared it.

    For one moment, Gold’s hands went numb, and then his magic was slipping and the demon’s magic was bouncing off the fluttering shield and coming straight towards him. He had barely a second to pull up a barrier before the demon’s magic was breaking through it and then breaking through him . His mouth gaped as he stumbled back, supporting himself against the always-weakening boundary. He yearned to look impenetrable to the people before him, even to Emma who knew so well that he wasn’t; but blood dripped out of his mouth and down his chin, drawing his attention to the seven-foot-long shard of honed darkness sticking out of his torso. No good deed goes unpunished, he thought. He blinked and blinked and blinked; and then Emma was there, determined expression firmly in place.

“You don’t look so good.” She crossed her arms.

    The demon hissed in frustration behind them as Gold’s fireball zipped around. He gave her a derisive smile. “Here I was thinking you’d come to swoon.”

    Emma rolled her eyes. “What can we do to help? My parents are by your shop; we’ll get you whatever you need.”

“The heroes are preparing to be useful?” Gold’s eyebrows bounced once mockingly. “I suppose there really is a first time for everything.”

“Now’s not the time for your Disney-themed hero-villain hatred,” Emma reminded. “None of us want this thing loose in Storybrooke, and I think we’d all prefer that it’s you in there and not us. So what can we do to help, Gold?”

“Keep the shield strengthened,” he supplied, his breathing evening out as the pain became constant. “Remove the bodies from the street lest they spit up more magic. Keep the townspeople away from the barrier before magic begins escaping it; I’d hate to start tripping over corpses.”

“Aye, aye, captain.” Emma nodded, turning to the gathering. “All right, people - thanks for the help, but you can go now. It’s not smart to stand next to a weird-looking demon, or a creature from a pocket dimension.” Gold shot her an unamused glare, and she sent a coy grin back.

    Gold felt the shift in his spell when the fireball fizzled out, and the demon growled triumphantly, reinforcing his notion that time had run out. Having caught at least some of his breath, he raised a scraped hand, gasping a little as he let the embedded shard slide from his torso with a slow magical tug. The demon seemed to be gathering its energy, darkness surrounding it like an ominous cloud. As Emma had expressed, those were becoming tiresome.

    After a painful cough that yielded more blood, Gold used the bare minimum of magic that he could get away with to sustain his injury, keeping his blood where it was supposed to be for the time being. The demon, having taken a surprising amount of time to set its next spell in place, raised its hands in preparation to cast. Gold did likewise, readying a strong counter. Though it was risky due to the differences between his mortal form and the demon’s magic-based form, he planned to meet the coming power head on with power of his own. He expected it to leak through the barrier, but he gave no further warning to the townsfolk. They had been told to move - whatever came of their stationary spectatorship was their fault.

    With a seemingly determined growl, the demon released its magic in a beam. Not even a second later, Gold followed suit. He kept his hands raised, as did his opponent; both dispersing intermittent waves of energy to strengthen the spells layer by layer. The shock sent through the dome once the magics met nearly threw Gold off his feet as it had before, but he had diverted the smallest amount of his power to keeping himself in place this time.

    After only a moment, Gold realized with growing dismay why the demon had taken so long to cast its spell. While he was continuously adding magic to his own side of the crackling beam of darkness, the creature had conserved its energy in those extra moments it had waited and then released it all in one. As Gold’s beam slowly strengthened, the demon’s pushed forward, moving the convergence point towards him. He focused his mind on the memories he had chosen, sharpening his magic. He also released the majority of the magic on his wounds - keeping just enough in place to anchor him in consciousness - to divert it to his beam, but it wasn’t enough. The magic concentered on him, and as his body collided with the ever-weakening shield, his vision went black.

(*&*)

    There was nothing. Well, Gold surmised, there must obviously be something if he was able to host a string of thoughts, but he felt nothing physical. Sensation slowly - very slowly - crept back into his senses, and then he felt as if he was floating. He flexed his fingers, and even that seemed far away. Though his digits were hindered from curling completely in on themselves, he felt nothing against his palm. Then he heard an anguished scream.

“Neal!” a voice cried out, echoing behind him - or maybe beside him, he wasn’t sure.

    It was Belle’s voice. A myriad of thoughts ran through his head, including a guilty flash of Emma’s lips on his. How could he have let himself get so attached to the Savior? In his tunnel vision for vengeance, had he truly not fought harder to stay by Belle’s side? Gold hadn’t wanted to fight, at the time. He shouldn’t have had to, if she had really desired to be with him. Time and time again, he had asked her to let him go, attempting to do the selfless thing for a change; but no one decided Belle’s fate besides her, and so it was only fitting that she had left on her own terms. In the moment when he had been too broken to be anything but selfish and scared, she had gone, and he had been too scattered to be happy that she was finally safe from him. Now, however, a twisted sort of relief spread through Gold as the rarely experienced blankness in his mind allowed his thoughts to occur unhindered by the Dark One’s slithering taunts and propositions or his own growing paranoia.

    With the daunting yet simple realization that he had in fact gotten from Belle exactly what he had asked from her, Gold focused on banishing the surrounding darkness, trying to make his way towards Belle’s hurried voice as she gasped, “Neal! Neal, what’s wrong?!” His eyelids fluttered, moving his limited vision from black to white. Fingers flexed again, still halted and yet unfeeling. Another pained scream cut through the air, bringing Gold the sense of haste he needed to push himself up.

“Neal, are you okay?!”

    The first thing he noticed, absurdly, was that he was wearing a well-fitted suit. With the ability to feel nothing but himself, Gold also realized that his Zelena-inflicted wounds and the previously gaping hole in his torso were missing, as was the pain that had accompanied them. He looked down, recognizing what was blocking his clenched fingers from folding entirely as snow. The normally soft substance still felt like nothing, and his body seemed to be impervious to the usual cold and numbness that came with laying in the ice. A forest surrounded him, and above it, a starry sky unobscured by the light pollution he had come to associate with the Land With No Magic. He was home, though he wasn’t sure how.

“Belle…”

    Then, he turned, just as another man, sounding as if in a trance, said, “Bae… no.” Gold’s knees hit the snow, the only feeling being an impact as his hand came up to his mouth, smothering a sob. Hot tears were streaming down his face in an instant, his body appearing to have stopped asking him for permission before doing things. By the time that his mind had caught up with the fact that his son was right there , someone else was speaking.

“Poor Baelfire.”

    Gold’s blood froze, his breath shuddering out to make no puff of air in the cold stillness. It was too much. Between the uncertainty of where he was; the renewed heartbreak of Belle being just in front of him but so far out of reach, both in Storybrooke and wherever he was now; Zelena’s condescending and oh-so familiar tones; and Baelfire being so close ; he vomited. It was a strange and painful feeling, throwing up when it seemed he’d never had anything of sustenance in his life; previous nourishments had disappeared just as his wounds had. Just a short while ago - though it felt worlds away - he had had at least part of a cup of tea, but nothing came up except stomach bile. Emotions whirled in several separate storms in his head, and tears painted Gold’s face as unheard words flew past him between the other occupants of the forest clearing.

    Gasping for oxygen, he clawed at his chest, feeling as though someone’s foot was pressing down on his heart. Not yards from him, his beautiful Belle chewed nervously on her lip as his son’s breaths came in labored pants. His family - what used to be his family. He wept, curling in on himself as Zelena’s voice sounded like a death knell - oh, and it was. Through the fog of heartbreak, he realized where he was as he looked up at himself and his gold-splattered grayish scales. He was in one of the memories he had chosen to fuel his dark magic.

“Go,” Rumplestiltskin quietly ordered, holding his son’s anguished form tightly in his arms.

    Baelfire absently clung to his father’s sleeves, his pallor betraying his fading heartbeat. Belle obeyed, stumbling up and back without ever once taking her eyes off the smirking green witch. Desperate noises escaped Rumplestiltskin as he worked to clutch his son’s body more closely against his chest, his dagger held in his right hand with a firm grip.

    A determined countenance settled on the imp’s face, belying his fearful hold on Baelfire. “I’m not gonna let him go.”

    The two men faded into a blue light, flickering as something seemed to tether them to a solid form that the quickly-cast spell could not overpower. Zelena smiled, her lips forming what looked more akin to a sneer.

“Sorry, Rumple.” Her eyes met his with both a promise and a challenge, her blindingly white teeth clashing with her blood red lips and stark green skin. “You can’t hang on to both of them.”

    It became apparent what was halting the magic as the possessively-held dagger attempted to reject the spell. Either it or Rumplestiltskin’s hand shook violently, it was unclear which, while a mere two seconds of fearsome glaring occurred before the sorcerer released his greatest weakness into the downy snow with a growl and bared teeth.

    Gold shook just as hard as his hand had that night before he had released the dagger. One of the very few moments in his existence which he took pride in played before him, where he had the same two seconds’ hesitation he had had above the portal on the worst day of his centuries-long life and made the right decision this time. The relief in Gold’s present self of finally getting a chance to make the right choice was stunted by two things, however: the first was that he knew what followed in the next year and a half; the second, which brought a whole new flood of sobs, was that Baelfire had been killed before the curse on everyone’s memories had been broken, and therefore died not knowing that his father had chosen him in the end.

“You’ve got your son,” Zelena’s lips peeled back in another smile, “but you’ve lost yourself.”

    Gold nearly laughed, as overridden with unbridled emotions as he was. Her meaning was clearly directed towards the muddling of his merged minds, and he wasn’t entirely sure how the memory continued - or had even begun in the first place - considering the fact that he didn’t remember several pieces of this interaction. Though Zelena may have been mocking his mental state, she seemed to have no idea just how truly she had spoken: he had spent centuries trying to find his son, and had lost himself along the way. When he had first seen Baelfire after all those years, the look he had gotten had been the look any sane person would have given to a murder who had tortured many and spared few. Gold had ripped thousands of families apart for nearly three decades with the curse alone, including the family of his son’s love. Lost was a mild term. He had abandoned himself to find his son, as everyone else in his life had abandoned him - as he had abandoned Baelfire.

“Rumple?”

    Gold’s eyes drew up to see Belle’s terrified features. He wanted so badly to run to her, hold her, and never let her go. Even if he had been able to do so through his increasing tremors, he wouldn’t have. In the time following her last book being moved from his house, he had latched on to the memory of her - certainly not this memory - and had painted the opaque walls of his carefully constructed little world with it. He had refused to leave his own mind or peek over those walls, convincing himself that he had been unable to see past them only because there was nothing on the other side. Denial had never been something he relished; he saw no point in lying to himself. He never tried to tell himself that he wasn’t a monster, or that he was good enough for anyone like Belle. But he had refused to acknowledge her absence or that he was breaking apart at the seams and would continue to do so without help.

    And then, Gold realized with more shuddering breaths, Emma Swan. Certainly, he had been the one to reach for her, knowing that he needed help to some degree and refusing to let Zelena win this mind game she was managing to play; but Emma had slowly - and so discreetly - been able to wiggle her way into a position where he leaned on her, and he didn’t like that. Gold clenched his teeth, knowing that as much as she had done, the last part was his to finish.

“...but before we do, kill her,” Zelena ordered with clear relish.

    Gold observed the happenings with bated breath, though he knew Belle hadn’t died, despite not completely remembering what had occurred. While he watched her run with sobs as undisguised as his current ones, a fresh wave of fear ran through him at the thought of anyone holding his dagger again, tempered only by the heartbreak that wrenched his gut.

“Goodbye, Belle.”

Chapter Text

    Gold looked up at the bright, clear sky, wishing he could just stay where he was seated on the bench. To his right, the Gold from nearly two years ago stood silent and pondering. The current Gold couldn’t help but feel jealous, looking at his past self in a nicely fitted suit; still thin, but properly nourished and not pale at all. To his left, his son and grandson swordfought with rounded wooden weapons.

    Gold couldn’t quite figure out how he had gotten into this memory, it being so much happier than the first. Watching his family alive and well, having fun on a nice day, wasn’t the kind of thought that fueled dark magic. No, that was light magic - the very essence of it. It was nice, all the same, to see Baelfire smiling.

    He had deduced thus far that the demon’s magic had pushed Gold’s own back on himself, sending him to the heart of his dark magic - the emotions used to fuel it. Why, then, would he be in such a fond memory?

    Baelfire laughed, jumping up on the picnic table with Henry following closely behind, an equally bright smile in place.

    Gold felt tears slip down his cheeks, and he cursed himself, tired of crying. He hadn’t wept so often even when he was a peasant, and he hated himself for the constant output of useless emotion. No amount of tears would bring his boy back to him.

“He’s got my eyes, don’t you think?”

    Buried deep in his thoughts, Gold had barely registered the conversation between his past self and Regina. He thought of Henry’s eyes; they did look just like his own, and Baelfire’s. He had been so desperate to protect the last living piece of his son that he hadn't stopped to talk to him. A piece, he had managed to convince himself, that feared and hated him for everything Gold had done to his father and others. Looking at the boy now, Gold knew that Henry could never hate him - perhaps not trust him, but never hate him. The Truest Believer always sought change in dark souls, after all.

    Gold closed his eyes, knowing that if he wanted to protect that last piece of Baelfire like he had promised himself he would, he had to go back to the demon.

“If this is the last time I see you, son,” Gold whispered, “I want you to know that I’ll do my best. I know that’s not much, but that’s all I have left to give - my very best. I won’t let anything happen to Emma or Henry, you have my word. And I’ll never go back on my word to you again. I can be a little better, for you, for them.”

    Gold took a deep breath, focusing on the good memories rather than the bad for once. Baelfire danced through his mind, kicking a ball or petting sheep for the first time or leaning on a stick at the age of seven because he “wanted to be just like” his papa or any of the other hundred thousand things Gold would never forget. He felt something loosen a little in his chest, right next to the something that had died with his son.

“Goodbye, Bae. I love you.”

(*&*)

    There was nothing once again. And then there was something. Gold’s eyes flickered open, only to snap closed when the sunlight stabbed at them. Sensation came completely this time, in jagged pulses. Noise seemed to rage around him, but all he could hear was a dull, fluctuating white noise. His fingers flexed as they had before, and he felt pavement beneath him along with something sticky. In fact, his entire body was laying in something sticky. Turning to the side before opening his eyes this time, his head pounded and nausea flared. When his vision focused, Gold blankly stared down at the tea and bile that had come up and was dripping from his mouth. Disgusted, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve, silently promising to burn the suit he wore - if the demon didn’t burn it for him. Pushing himself up to his knees, the nausea returned, but he forcefully swallowed it down. The ache in his head sharpened to an inconsistent jab, and the bright colors surrounding him made it all the worse. 

    Looking down again, Gold observed the pool of blood he had been resting in - his own blood. His fingers absently wandered to the ragged edges of torn flesh in his body where the demon’s spell had impaled him. Gold watched the blood slowly stream out; and then he watched it slowly stop. A thin - almost invisible - thread of golden light danced through the air in front of him, sliding into the wound in his stomach and sewing . He felt a pleasant tickle and watched in barely conscious confusion as it knitted him together.

    The white noise became sharper as he knelt on the ground, and Gold couldn’t quite remember why people would be screaming. Once the flesh was sewn and nothing more than a scar, the golden light shimmied its way up towards his shoulders, aiming for the deep claw marks that the demon had left. The demon , Gold thought. That was why people were screaming. Before the light could move to his back, it crackled a little and then fizzled out.

“Gold! Gold !”

    He turned his head dizzily and thought he caught sight of more golden lights. No, that wasn’t it.

“ Gold . I don’t know what just happened, but I need you to wake up .”

    Hair. The golden strands made up a head of hair, and -

“Gold.” The voice was right next to him. “The demon is about to break through the shield.”

    Emma - it was Emma. Gold sucked in a breath, remembering more clearly what was happening. As he turned, he saw that she was right - the barrier was hardly even flickering.

“I - I…” Gold couldn’t make his tongue work. His mouth was full of blood, and it bubbled on his lips.

“Just tell me how to stop it,” Emma insisted. “You’ve fought enough; it’s gotta be weaker. Just tell me.”

    Even if he hadn’t been able to fight any further, Gold knew he wasn’t able to readily hand her his dagger.

“I need to stab it,” he choked out.

“Stab it?” Emma looked incredulous. “Stab it where?”

    Gold coughed, fresh blood coating his chin even with his newly healed stomach wound. “In the head.”

    Two things then happened simultaneously. The first, Gold threw out his rope of dark magic, hooking the demon easily. The second, the boundary flickered out when one of the demon’s spells broke through, sending shards - like the one that had stabbed Gold - into the crowd of foolishly-gathered townsfolk. Emma spewed profanities, running to herd everyone away. Gold gripped the rope tightly, copying the demon’s earlier trick and drawing as much magical energy to himself as he could, conserving it. The demon hissed as it had been doing since its arrival, and Gold realized something.

“You’re speaking,” Gold stated.

    The demon hissed again - or spoke, Gold supposed. Then, “Your language is complex.”

“Your magic is not.” Gold marveled at its simple magic but apparently advanced mind.

“It need not be,” the demon replied in a throaty growl, tugging on the magical line cast around it before landing and grabbing it. “She promised me your string, and I’ll have it after this trouble.”

“My what?” Gold’s eyebrows drew together.

“Not yours.” The demon tugged on the magic. “Mine.”

    Gold had just enough time to think that the conversation might be a distraction before magic was being thrown at him. He released the rope, the demon stumbling back. Then, he loosed his stored magic - almost everything he had - nearly collapsing in the process. As they had the first time, the two waves met in the middle, crackling like lightning and sounding like thunder. Every bit of glass shattered in the aftershock without the confinement of the shield, showering everyone on the street. Gold ducked, covering his head, though he felt a piece dash his cheek. Yelps and screeches came from the direction of the townspeople, but Gold didn’t dare take his focus from the fight as he had before.

    For a moment, there was silence, still and loaded, as the magic cleared.

“Mine!”

    The demon sprang forwards once the last of the magic had dissipated, wrapping its hand around Gold’s throat. Off balance, they both fell to the ground. The demon reached its hand out, pulling back with a hiss only seconds later.

“Cut! The witch lied,” it howled.

    Gold’s vision faded in and out, vividly aware of the hand around his throat. He used the last of his magic in a short-range summoning spell.

“Yeah,” he rasped, drawing his opponent’s attention downwards. “She tends to do that.”

    With a deep breath, Gold hauled his arm off the pavement, driving his dagger into the demon’s head. Instead of bleeding or collapsing, it merely stared at him for a moment before melting into the green mist it had been called from. On legs that tried to lock and shake at the same time, Gold stood precariously, gripping his dagger tightly as the previously frenzied crowd stood silent and mostly still. Emma, still directing people on where to go and what to do with the injured ones, took a moment to notice the cease in motion.

    She walked over to him with pursed lips, not asking how he was, but instead tugging on his sleeve until he was leaning most of his weight on her. “Are they gonna turn back?”

    Gold surveyed the bodies on the street. Fingers were twitching and heads were lolling and groans were being issued. People began moving once more to help the newly transformed, several keeping their eyes on him.

“I doubt it.” He relaxed against the sheriff, though his hold on the dagger tightened. “The magic that was being used to sustain the forms was diverted to summoning the demon.”

“Good.” Emma waited for a moment, letting him catch his breath. “Can you heal yourself?”

    Gold chuckled. “All magic comes with a price, my dear, and mine to pay is a lack of energy. If I tried, I fear I’d black out.”

“How bad is it?” Emma reached over to move his shirt, and Gold’s mind jumped to his scars.

    He caught her wrist in a light grip with his free hand, smirking at her to hide his fear. “One kiss and you’re already trying to undress me?”

    Emma stared at him - straight through him, really - and for a moment he thought he had overstepped. Then he realized that she was trying to read him, so he averted his gaze back to the townsfolk. Looking for a way to change the subject, he watched the former flying monkeys being helped down the street, likely to Granny’s; and several people kneeling over unmoving bodies.

“The casualties?” Gold asked.

    Emma reluctantly drew her eyes back towards the people. “One of the dwarfs - Happy, I think; Ashl- uh, Cinderella’s husband… Thomas; a waitress from the diner, Linda. There were a couple others, too, but the rest were just injuries. I-” Emma laughed sadly, trying to make light of it, “I had one job, right?”

    Gold’s grip was still loose around her wrist, and he didn’t dare move it up to her hand. “And you did it well.”

“Tell that to the dwarfs,” she sighed.

“If I did, they would agree, as would everyone else.” He held her eyes, attempting to just will her to believe him.

    Emma looked down and away, pulling her wrist from him and changing the subject. “Regina said she went to Granny’s to check on Henry and Baby Neal, but I think she’s looking for Robin. Roland’s been staying with her until we can get the Merry Men back.”

    Gold opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by Grumpy. “Rumplestiltskin! This was you !”

“I didn’t summon a demon to injure myself, dearie,” Gold drawled, straightening up until he was shakily standing without support.

    The dwarf poked him in the chest and Emma discreetly grabbed his arm to keep him from falling, which he was eternally grateful for. “You killed my brother! Just like you’ve killed before.” Grumpy turned to Emma. “Sister, I know you won’t like it, but there’s a way to make this stop.” He faced Gold again. “ All of it.”

    Emma shifted in front of him just slightly. “Like what?”

“His dagger. You can take it now. You heard him, he’s injured.”

    Gold took a quick step back, baring his teeth defensively. The dwarf made to move towards him, but Emma stepped in front of him, fully this time.

“Look, Leroy, you have every right to be mad, but not at him.” At Grumpy’s offended expression, she raised her hands placatingly. “He just saved us - twice.”

    David stepped forward. “Emma, you may not want to hear it, but he’s right. You’ve got a good heart, but you just don’t know what he’s done.”

    Gold clenched his jaw as agreements were shouted, taking another step back and nearly toppling on his tired limbs. He shouldn’t have fought the demon. He should have stayed in his shop.

“You’re right, I don’t want to hear it - especially not from you.” Emma shook her head. “What happened to second chances?”

“He’s proven time and time again that he can’t change ,” David argued.

“So had Regina!” Emma yelled.

    He huffed, like she was a child disagreeing with a logical point. “But she found Henry and Robin - and Roland. But Gold…”

“Oh my -” Emma took a deep breath, her anger rising. “So because your grandson’s father is dead, you want to take away Gold’s freedom?”

“I - I didn’t mean it like that.” David shrugged helplessly, looking around for Snow who had left for Granny’s. “I’m just saying that he’s caused a lot of trouble in the past. This is an easy fix.”

    Emma groaned. “You of all people should know that just because something’s easy, doesn’t mean it’s okay, David.”

“I’m not saying we have to lock him up like Zelena did-” Gold hissed in frustration at that, “-just take away his magic.”

    People had begun to move towards Gold, waiting for an order from their prince. He swayed on his feet, gripping his dagger until his knuckles turned white. In a flash of brown hair and faded red streaks, someone was standing next to Emma.

“Listen, I don’t like him either, but we’ve had our share of crappy people in our town and I thought everyone had learned by now that it’s not smart to poke the dragon.” Red crossed her arms. “If the Savior says back off, then back off.”

    Emma winced at the usage of her title, but everyone slowly began to leave, most of them walking to Granny’s. David nodded in resignation, leaving to find Snow. Grumpy scowled one more time at Gold before going back to his mourning brothers.

    As Red turned, Gold gave a nod that looked like a small bow. “You have my thanks.”

    Red shrugged. “We’ve had enough fighting for one day.”

“Really, thanks.” Emma gave her a small smile. “I don’t think I was getting anywhere.”

“Don’t suggest,” Red advised, “demand. They’ll listen to you.”

    Gold wasn’t sure the sheriff wanted them to, but he had more prominent thoughts on his mind. “I’d rather like to find out how Zelena is using magic from her cage. Emma, care to join me?”

    Emma scoffed. “Definitely. I’m about ready to throw a bucket of water on her. Red?”

    The waitress waved a hand. “I’ve already had my greens today, I’ll just head back to the diner.”

    As Emma and Gold began their walk, she let him lean on her. “It’s off to see the witch.”

Chapter Text

    Gold was thankful for Emma’s offered shoulder on the walk to the mayor’s mansion, and even more thankful for the mysterious golden light’s healing. He couldn’t bring himself to fret over the battle with Zelena’s death so close at hand, though the memories he had been sent into still whirled around his head, demanding to be his center of attention.

    Gold licked his lips as he gathered his thoughts, his head moving from Emma to the road and then back again while they walked. “You mentioned Henry was at the diner?”

    Emma’s eyebrow twitched, like she had been jerked out of thought. “Oh, yeah. He said he wanted to do something.” She shrugged. “So I told him to guard his… uncle.”

“He’s very protective, as is his mother.” Gold gave her a half-grin. “I’m sure he took the quest to heart.”

    Emma’s mouth twisted. “It’s - it’s different now. Of course he’d look after his family in any way possible, but it’s not like before.”

“Oh?” Gold prompted.

“They don’t get it - my parents, I mean.” Emma stopped, indirectly bringing Gold to a halt with her, and looked over at him. “I was gonna leave - I still might! Like, leave leave, not just take a trip. What Henry and I had in New York was good, great even. I’ve never really had great, and I’m not sure he has, either.”

“I understand your desire to leave.” Gold pursed his lips at her incredulous expression, sure it meant she had only gotten counters to this suggestion so far instead of agreements. “How does that change Henry?”

    Emma swallowed harshly. “He doesn’t want to go, that’s why we’re still here. I can’t blame him; he’s found his family. But he’s becoming reckless, trying to prove that we can stay and be safe. And he’s getting older, so a simple, ‘Listen to your mother,’ won’t work.”

“So are you forced into staying, or forced into leaving?” he asked.

    Emma let out a bark of laughter. “Exactly. And Regina…”

    Gold smirked. “Surely you’ve considered the repercussions of snatching the treasure from the dragon’s lair.”

    She let out a ragged breath. “I miss the time when I didn’t have to worry about dragons’ lairs.”

“Wasn’t that when you were still an orphan? Do you miss that too?” 

    They picked their pace back up, nearing the house, Emma chewing her cheeks in contemplation. “Of course not.”

“Of course not,” Gold echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“I just… it was simpler, wasn’t it?” She looked almost guilty for saying it. “If I could go back, I wouldn’t give Henry up, and then we would have that life in New York. Sure, I wouldn’t know who my parents are; but that means I wouldn’t be chained to some power that I don’t really want, and all the dangers and expectations that come with it. Henry would be safe.”

“One way or another, you would have been led here,” Gold reminded.

    Emma sighed, closing her eyes briefly. “Guess it was cursed from the start, huh?”

“Quite literally,” Gold agreed. “The power doesn’t have to be a bad thing, though. As I said before-”

“ No , Gold.” Her eyes fluttered open, a sad sort of anti-resignation - as if she was resigned to not being resigned - lighting them. “It’s not part of what makes me, me. It’s not part of me at all. None of this is. Storybrooke, magic, even my parents - it’s all just… a fairytale.”

    Gold scoffed. “And your time in New York wasn’t?”

“Not you too,” she sighed.

    He raised his hand placatingly. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t return, merely questioning whether you’re observing what lies ahead or what you wish does. I’ve known you to, at dire times, see only what you want to see.”

“Hey, would you listen to a ten year old who tells you that an evil sorceress is running a town frozen in time?” Emma huffed her defense.

“If every sign pointed in that direction, yes.” Gold nodded.

    She scoffed, muttering, “Liar.”

    They continued on in companionable silence, Gold slowly regaining his strength, and Emma quietly rehearsing her options. When they reached the large house boasting a sweeping gold 108 on the door, Emma stopped. Gold watched her out of the corner of his eye, wary of the imminent conversation.

    She seemed to be having a battle in her mind, and Gold figured it was a moral dilemma of sorts. “I know what you’re going to do, Gold, but I want answers from her first.”

“As do I.” Gold itched to enter the house, but he stood still, observing the sheriff.

    After another moment of silence, she spoke: “I appreciate the fact that you dealt for this fairly.”

“However?”

“But I don’t get it. Why didn’t you kill Zelena before? She was in the station; you could have gotten in and out easily. Were you trying to do this by the book to get Belle back?” Emma searched his face for clues.

“No.” Gold frowned momentarily, unused to the chance to explain himself. “Everyone would have known it was me. As much as I wanted to avenge Bae’s death… I won’t be put in another prison; I can’t be.”

    Emma nodded, reaching for the door. “So you waited.”

“So I waited.”

    Finally able to stand on his own, Gold followed her in, unsteady though he was. The Charmings and Regina were already there, but their discussion stopped when Gold and Emma entered, all heads turning toward them.

    Gold straightened his tie habitually, knowing what a torn and blood-soaked mess his suit was. “Hello, dearies.”

    Regina arched a perfectly-sculpted eyebrow. “Gold.”

“Lead the way.” He waved a hand towards the basement door, watching as the heroes warily moved to open it.

    Emma went down the stairs just before him, giving a curt nod as she descended. He would have killed Zelena regardless of the sheriff’s input, but he allowed himself the small admission that he preferred it when she was on his side, or he on hers. Gold followed a moment later, his breath shuddering out at the proximity to his son’s justice. It almost brought tears to his eyes - over three centuries, and it was finally coming full circle. He was truly going to give farewell to his son, and let him rest peacefully. Besides looking after Emma and Henry and what he foresaw being a continuous fight to be better, this would be his last act for Baelfire.

    Zelena sat up from her bed as everyone filed into the basement, her eyes locking on Gold. “Oh, my. You don’t look well at all, darling.”

    Ignoring her completely, he asked, “How were you able to summon something almost equal in strength to the Dark One?”

“ Someone thinks highly of himself.” She smiled, as if she was revealing a hint to a titillating scavenger hunt. “As for the demon, I didn’t summon that, doll; you did.”

    Several pairs of suspicious eyes were cast his way, and Gold scoffed. “Is it now popular opinion that I’d attempt to stage my own defeat?”

“Or your own victory,” Regina corrected with a smirk.

    David narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, you could have summoned it to make us think you’re on our side.”

“Come on, guys.” Emma crossed her arms. “Gold’s a self-preserving ass. Even if he wanted something, we already owe him a favor.”

“I am still standing here,” Gold reminded, shifting his weight on his tired legs before continuing, “And while Emma is not wrong about my nature, I will bring your attention to the fact that the witch made a deal with this demon.”

    Eyes drifted back to Zelena as quickly as they had moved to him. David spoke first.

“A deal? What deal?”

    Zelena shrugged nonchalantly. “I just promised the demon dear Rumple’s string.”

    Emma’s head moved back a little, her eyebrows rising. “Is that a euphemism?”

“You rely on her as your great Savior?” The witch snorted derisively. “No wonder this town is under constant siege.”

    Gold pursed his lips in thought. “Where did you summon the demon from?”

“ You summoned it from the Realm of the Fates.” Zelena painted on a sugary sweet smile. “Took quite a toll, I’d imagine.”

“I haven’t summoned anything, witch.” Gold bared his teeth. “What game are you playing?”

    She laughed. “That’s for me to know, doll. You have bigger problems to busy yourself with.”

“Like what?” Regina demanded.

“Well, monkeys of course.” Her smile never faltered. “I do hope you gave that little brat of yours a weapon.”

“Henry?”

    Emma and Regina were in front of the cage in a second, their fingers wrapped around the bars, and Gold found it almost hilarious how familiar the scene was. He was far too worried about his grandson to laugh, however. Instead, he watched David draw his sword and Snow set her jaw.

“What have you done with my son?” Emma growled, just as David dialed Red.

“It’s not what I’ve done with your son that you need to worry about, dear.” Zelena walked closer to the bars, just out of arms’ reach; she had learned her lesson with Gold. “It’s my precious sister’s lover that you need to worry about.”

    David hung up the phone, a stony countenance in place. “Some monkeys took Henry from the diner.” To Snow, he said, “Neal’s safe with Granny.”

    Snow nodded, then turned to the witch with crossed arms. “What have you done with him?”

“Who? The sappy archer, or the wannabe knight?” Zelena looked out at the collection of interrogators, daring them to keep speaking. Gold got the feeling that she was leading them exactly where she wanted them to go.

“ Both .” Regina sneered.

“Well, one’s a flying monkey, and the other is somewhere you would never find him.” Zelena smirked. “Though I’d encourage you to try.”

    Regina turned to leave the basement. “We’ll use a tracking spell. I have Henry’s scarf.”

“You think she hasn’t thought of that?” Gold interjected, and everyone turned as though they had forgotten he was there - everyone except Zelena, who gave him a wide smile. “This is where it was going to lead back to whether the demon was defeated or not.” He folded his hands calmly in front of him. “She wants a deal.”

“I do just love a perceptive man.” Zelena smiled like she was the most entertaining person in the world. “So is everyone ready for my grand request?”

“We can do this without her,” Regina spat. “Don’t listen to the witch or the imp.”

“Careful, Your Majesty, or we’ll think you’re getting too big for your pantsuits.” Gold cast her a sardonic smirk. “Surely you remember being thrown through the clock tower?”

“And surely you remember your mistress being defeated by my light magic.”

    Gold suppressed a growl, schooling his expression. “And you command that at will now, do you?”

    Regina looked away for a moment, coming back down the stairs begrudgingly. “Fine, we can hear out the red-headed cucumber.”

“What do you want?” David asked, his sword still pointed in her direction. 

“Put that away before you hurt yourself.” Zelena drawled. “What I want is simple - protection from the Dark One. In return, you can have all the locations you want.”

    Before the heroes could agree, Gold cut in. “I’m afraid they can’t do that, dearie. As you well know, they are already bound by an existing deal.”

    Regina huffed. “And what deal would that be?”

“Your collective favor to me,” he informed with a ringing finality.

    Snow raised her eyebrows. “Which is?”

“My continued freedom after killing the witch.” Gold smiled casually, eyeing the weapon David held. “No pointed sticks allowed.”

“No!” Regina laughed disbelievingly. “You don’t get to kill her.”

“We made a deal, and no one breaks deals with me.” Gold sneered, daring her to disagree.

“We didn’t deal for this.” Regina crossed her arms.

    Gold looked away, working his jaw to restrain his frustrations, before making eye contact. “You didn’t know what you were dealing for, dearie. This is the agreement, and you’ll honor it accordingly.”

“Or what ?” she asked challengingly.

    Before he could respond with an appropriate threat, Zelena injected herself into the conversation. “As much as I love a good cat fight, time’s ticking. I’d come to a decision if I were you.”

“Deal,” David and Snow said unisonally.

“No!” Gold protested. “You don’t get to go back on our terms.”

“Rumplestiltskin, I know you’re upset, but revenge isn’t the answer. Haven’t we proven that in this town?” Snow prompted pleadingly.

“Killing her would be wrong,” Regina added stiffly.

    Gold breathed out a harsh laugh. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“I’m being better,” she defended.

“Yes, for your son.” Gold clenched his teeth. “I’m doing this for mine.”

“We won’t let you,” David assured.

“And if it had been Henry?” Gold flourished a hand, his emotions barely subdued as he kept himself from screaming at them all. “Would you all be dancing about, granting her wishes then?”

    David opened his mouth to answer, but Emma got there first. “No, we wouldn’t.” Everyone turned surprised eyes on her as she spoke for the first time since trying to charge Zelena. “Guys, I know this isn’t how you usually do things, but maybe it’s better. I’ve been getting caught up with all this black-and-white hero crap, but he’s right. If it had been Henry, Zelena’d be long dead by now.”

“Emma,” Snow said with an appeasing tone of voice. “I’m sorry about what happened to Neal, but -”

    Continuing as if she hadn’t been stopped, Emma said, “We’re not in fairytale land anymore where knights ride horses and princesses sing love songs about arranged marriages. This is the world I grew up in, and some things are punishable by death.”

“Things that he has also done,” David reminded, motioning towards Gold.

“Most of the people in this room have killed someone at some point for some reason.” Emma looked around, not accusingly, but knowingly. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who hasn’t. In your old home, it doesn’t sound like it was that big of a thing, but we need to establish rules here, because this town is getting out of hand - has gotten out of hand. Who knows what is and isn’t allowed? But whether we’re setting up a capital punishment or not, we made a deal, and Gold’s gone above and beyond with his end of it. It’s time we do the same.”

“Thank you, Emma.” Gold gave a grateful nod.

“You’re right, Emma.” Snow nodded. “We do need to set up law in Storybrooke, but let’s not start it all off with murder.”

“No, we’ll start it off with an honored agreement,” the sheriff corrected.

“This is taking too much time.” Regina announced. “I need to know where my son is.” Turning to Zelena, she continued, “Whether they like it or not, we have a deal.”

“Regina…” Emma warned.

    Gold bared his teeth, thinking of the baby boy he would never have back and all the things he could never fix. “No matter what you say, this deal you’ve struck is already null and void. I’ll have my price.”

“ We have a deal ,” Regina repeated. “Now where is he?”

“In the one place you’d never look for something with wings, of course.” Zelena smiled, not taking her eyes off of Gold. “Underground.”

(*&*)

“We’ll take a detour to Gold’s shop, get the last few potions,” Emma announced, crossing her arms where they all stood in Regina’s dining room.

“I wouldn’t recommend that, m’dear.” Gold tugged at the sleeve of his suit jacket, attempting to straighten the mess. “The potions worked the previous time only because the magic sustaining their forms was channeled into summoning the demon. Unless she plans to do that again - which is highly unlikely, considering the amount of power it requires - the transformed individuals will simply change back.”

“Then what the hell do we do?” Emma threw her hands up, letting them slap against her thighs.

    Regina formed a fireball in her hand. “I’ve always been a fan of barbeque.”

“One of those monkeys is Robin,” David reminded.

    Regina rolled her eyes in irritation, letting the flame fizzle out, though her worry for the outlaw seeped through her apathetic countenance.

“We could try sleeping powder,” Snow suggested. “Knock them all unconscious and grab Henry. It’s only a temporary solution in the long run, but it will get him out of danger.”

“And how do you advise we disperse that?” Gold raised an eyebrow.

    She put her hands on her hips defensively. “I don’t hear you offering up anything.”

“That’s because you’ve all skipped over several other problems that should be addressed before swords are drawn.” Gold waved a hand vaguely. “For instance, how are we to find them in the first place? As we’ve established, a tracking spell won’t work, so we’ll have few options but to wander the mines for hours on end.”

“The only problem that needs to be addressed is getting my son back,” Regina snapped.

“And you figure that’s a one step process, Your Majesty?” Gold gave her a derisive smirk. “Your tunnel vision, as always, does you no favors.”

“Listen-”

“ Okay .” Emma held up her hands. “Red’s a werewolf, right? So she can track for us?”

“That’s a great idea, Emma,” David said with such a parent-to-child voice that the sheriff restrained an eye roll.

“When we get to the monkeys, we attack - injure, don’t kill,” Emma ordered firmly. “We can’t afford to play too nice, but we can probably find some fancy magical thing to heal them later.”

“I believe that’s called a doctor,” Gold supplied, earning a glare.

    Emma continued, “Now, if we can all act like grown-ups for a few hours, we’ll have Henry back by morning.”

    The sun was waning outside, casting red and orange hues through the windows of the mayor’s mansion. The sky reminded Gold sickly of the bloody horizons of the First Ogres War, reinforcing the concept of how much he stood to lose if he couldn’t find Baelfire’s boy.

    Regina sniffed. “Well then I suppose we should go enlist the she-wolf.”

    Emma nodded and pursed her lips awkwardly. “Regina, if you could poof us…?”

    The mayor’s hands flew up, engulfing them all in a plume of smoke that Gold was beginning to feel far too familiar with. They appeared in front of the diner, and he allowed the heroes to go ahead of him, figuring that there was no need to join them in their recruitment of Red. Instead, he took a much needed moment to breathe, replaying the events of the day in his head from his waking thoughts of the Savior to Zelena’s inexplicable claims of how the demon was summoned. 

    What was yet more inexplicable - and he counted again and again in his head, to be sure - was that in four days , including this one, he had managed to get so close to Emma. He supposed that in the last couple of years they had somewhat kindled an on-off friendship; but after so much fighting and loss and change, it was strange to think that one dinner could begin the play of a lifetime of possibilities in such a short period. Four days had given them time to talk about almost nothing, to build almost nothing; and Gold was sure that the miniscule amount of trust that had been exchanged between them had been impromptu and forced, and they just hadn’t had the time to notice what a flimsy foundation they were erecting for whatever it was they were aiming for.

“You look deep in thought.” Emma’s voice pulled him from his reverie.

“Yes, well.” Gold wasn’t sure what else to say, loath to reveal his ponderings, so he left it there.

“What did Zelena mean by your ‘string’?” She played with the cuff of her jacket, absently drawing his attention to a cut on her hand from the battle with the monkeys. It felt like it had been so long ago, like time had warped and wound around them to bring them to this moment, and Gold felt that strange sense of madness from earlier creeping up on him again. “And what is this about some fate realm?”

    Once again yanked from his thoughts, Gold anchored himself in the attempt to explain. No matter how reserved he often was with words, story weaving had always been a secret pleasure of his, leading to many nights of fantastical tales with him and Baelfire perched by a barely-lit hearth. “I’m sure this world has legends of the Fates, just as they have legends of Snow White, though I find it improbable that they are correct.”

“The Fates are real ?” Emma asked disbelievingly, her mouth hanging open slightly as if he had slapped her across the face.

“Yes, however no one - or at least no one alive - knows entirely how they came to be.” The sheriff watched as Gold’s hands started to move with his story, a small smile twitching her lips both for the new side of him she saw and for the honesty he was chancing on her when he could have easily skirted the question. “Some say they are daughters of Zeus, while others say they are of Nyx. Perhaps they are goddesses, or beings higher yet. They stay in their own realm, so we can never know. The Fates are not alone there, though. Other creatures dwell in their domain, such as - according to Zelena - the demon that was summoned earlier.”

    Emma crossed her arms, doing her best to take in information that felt worlds away. “And it wanted… your string.”

“Many of the creatures that reside in that realm are akin to pets - fed and cared for, presumably, by the Fates.” Gold glanced through the diner’s window quickly, seeing that the heroes were restocking their weapons supplies and gathering food and water for the unknown length of their mission, before bringing his attention back to his explanation. “Every being in every realm is assigned a destiny, or fate, at birth. That’s not to say that our entire existences are regulated; there are just certain things - moments in life - that we will be led to. Sometimes, it’s a pinnacle where a decision must be made, defining your character; sometimes, it’s a simple act that will lead to a decision for another; sometimes it begins a series of events that will even out whatever imbalance has been spotted in the universe. Everyone has a purpose - everyone has a fate in the form of a cord, and all the cords are raddled by the Great Weavers. When a fate is somehow avoided or changed, a cord comes loose and must be replaced. That extra cord is then fed to the inhabiting creatures.”

“Wow.” Emma huffed. “That’s - that’s a lot of… just a lot.”

“Indeed.” Gold bowed his head in agreement. “Zelena must have promised that the demon could claim my fate, a rare treat for such a creature to be able to consume an active destiny.”

“What would have happened to you?” The sheriff raised a curious eyebrow, caution tinging her question.

    Gold shrugged loosely, deciding to keep the fact that - according to the demon - it couldn’t have taken his cord, to himself. “I truly can’t say. With as little as is known about the Fates, I’m already quite deep into speculation. I do, however, know how Seers came into being.”

    Emma held up both her hands. “Maybe let’s save that for another time.”

“I’m quite surprised you listened to as much as you did,” Gold admitted.

    Emma sighed, her body seeming to sag under the weight of the last several hours. “I need as many distractions as I can find right now. Honestly, I think if I spend too much time on Henry’s situation, I’ll be no help actually getting him back.”

“Then I’ll tell you as many stories as you’d like.” He gave her a tiny grin, eyes sparkling as she returned it.

    As grim as the situation was, Gold couldn’t help but feel as though it was an absolute that they would get Henry back.  Perhaps he was tired or being stubborn, but he also thought that it may have been hope, just the barest amount.

“Ready?”

    The heroes emerged from the diner, Red on their heels and a large pack slung over David’s shoulder. Emma took the offered sword from her mother and - with hesitancy on Snow’s part - a loaded gun, which she tucked into the holster at her hip, next to her sheriff’s badge. Regina had a small knife tucked into her boot, though Gold was sure that she didn’t plan to use it. Snow had a full quiver of arrows, a bow, and a sword strapped to her in various locations. Red had a knife similar to Regina’s, but the moon was also becoming more visible, and it was going to be as full as one could hope for on the night of a battle.

    The team was somewhat rag-tag, accounting for the several injuries - including deep wounds on both David’s and Gold’s shoulders - and the distrustful glances constantly being exchanged. Gold had tucked his dagger safely away in what remained of his suit jacket, unable to lock it back up and ward it properly with his energy so depleted. His magic was slow to return, and he wondered at it, thinking of all the wounds from his time in Zelena’s cellar that still had yet to heal months later. Perhaps it was more than the fight that had him so worn out, he thought.

    By the time Gold pushed aside his ponderings, they were at one of the entrances to the mines, Regina having teleported them as close as she seemed to be able to go without hitting what felt like a barrier. Gold suspected that the barrier was the reason a tracking spell wouldn’t work. To prepare for the possible event that it slowed his regeneration further, he summoned both his sword and gun from his shop.

“Okay, Red.” Emma motioned to the mines. “Lead the way.”

Chapter Text

    Bringing along a werewolf turned out to be one of the best ideas Emma had ever suggested. Only a few minutes into their journey, the winding and seemingly never ending mines had split into four tunnels. Red easily picked out the scent of monkey and led them through many more crossroads and forks with almost no hesitation; her confidence was a counterpoint to the Storybrooke girl Emma had originally known. Everything seemed to be a counterpoint now, even two years later. The only remaining themes were distrust and danger which fueled the edge the sheriff always felt she was standing on. She was tired of fear, even if it did come with family. What kind of mother was she if she didn’t move Henry to safety, especially after this?

“We’ll get him back.” Snow’s determined voice cut through Emma’s thoughts.

“I know we will.” She pursed her lips, an almost imperceptible glance cast towards Regina. “It’s the battle that comes afterwards that I’m worried about.”

    Oblivious to her daughter’s inner monologue, Snow offered more platitudes. “We have six of the best fighters in Storybrooke here - nothing bad will happen to Henry.”

“You’re right,” Emma agreed, her decision made, “it won’t.”

    A beat passed in silence before another matter of group tension was brought to the surface by David. “Gold - what are you doing here? What’s in this for you? Your part of the deal was completed hours ago.”

“And yours will be completed hours from now, whether you like it or not,” Gold replied simply, thickening the air without a second thought.

“What are we talking about?” Red asked in a high voice, not understanding the constant bristling but still discomfited.

    Gold replied before anyone else could. “Your hero friends have decided that honor is selective and have chosen to renege on our deal.”

    Red looked around cautiously, wisely deciding not to pass judgment on the situation and keeping her comments to herself. Emma watched her family fidget under Gold’s cutting words, which was no doubt the point. No threats or warnings had come with the statement; Emma figured this was Gold playing nice and giving minds a chance to change. Another tunnel passed before someone spoke.

“Would you consider changing your favor?” Snow, ever the royal diplomat, asked sweetly.

    Gold stayed silent and didn’t stop Regina when she answered for him. “Of course he wouldn’t. There’s nothing else he wants.”

“Then why are you here?” David asked again.

“All but one of you,” Gold gave the briefest of looks to Emma, “seem to have forgotten in the last year that despite protest, I am also a member of this family - by blood alone, mind you. My love for my grandson did not die with Baelfire.”

“Love? You don’t even know him.” Regina sneered.

“A problem I am eager to remedy,” Gold assured, more to himself than anyone else.

    A wave of guilt washed over Emma, but her resolution was firm. As much as she was beginning to care for Gold, that fondness came nowhere close to her desire for Henry’s safety. She hated the idea of robbing one more thing from Gold, but she wasn’t cutting off connection completely. Henry would be able to see his family, just not every day. Once she got through the last obstacle of Regina, they would be on their way back to New York.

    A long while passed in silence before everyone came to an abrupt halt behind Red. She held up a hand to stop the impending questions, her nose moving through the air, her brow furrowed in concentration. They were stood in a space more open than most they had walked through, with three tunnels roughly constructed before them. Since they had entered, Emma hadn’t heard claw, tail, or wing, and she had no idea what Red had been following in the first place, but this section of the mines appeared no different to her.

“Ruby?” Emma whispered.

    She shook her head. “They all smell the same.” Turning apologetically, she continued, “I don’t know, guys.”

“That’s okay,” Snow assured brightly. “You’ve taken us so far already.”

“Not far enough,” Regina interjected, to no one’s surprise. “As far as I can tell, all you’ve done is get us lost.”

“And that’s an educated guess, Your Majesty?” Gold said. “She’s done far more than you have.”

    Emma spoke up again, getting comfortable in her role as mediator. “Three tunnels, six people - I’m not seeing a problem.”

“Of course you aren’t.” Regina rolled her eyes. “It’s not hitting you in the face yet, so it can’t be there.”

    Emma glared. “Someone’s going to get hit in the face-”

“I think splitting up is a great idea!” Snow announced.

    David, unsurprisingly, agreed. “Yes, Regina, let’s go.”

“What? Why me? You and the wolf would be much better suited - you could talk about sheep dogs.”

    Before Red could bite her, Emma huffed and joined her mother’s peace campaign. “Ruby and I will go, we work well together.” Red nodded to her gratefully, Emma muttering, “But we better not find a heart this time.”

    Snow simply put on a strained smile and turned to Gold. He glowered but proceeded down the far left tunnel without argument, Snow catching up to him quickly. Regina rolled her eyes again, silently acquiescing and starting the path down the middle, David in tow. Emma motioned towards the right tunnel, walking side by side with Red.

“So…” Red broke the silence a few minutes in. “Who is it?”

“Who is what?” Emma asked distantly, her mind miles away.

“The person who’s putting that look on your face?”

    Emma took a moment before coming back to the present, her voice defensive. “What look?”

    Red smiled that very Ruby-like smile she seemed to have kept in her back pocket. “The look saying that you totally kissed someone and that you’re super unsure about how that makes you feel.”

    Emma frowned. “How do you do that?”

“Oh, you know.” Red raised her eyebrows, lips pursed. “Three decades of sniffing out gossip…”

“I guess so.” Emma picked up her pace just slightly. “Either way, that’s not really what I’m worried about right now.”

“Right now we’re in a tunnel for who knows how much longer. It might be better for you to worry a little less,” Red suggested.

    Emma waited a minute before blurting, “Okay I kissed someone. And I am definitely unsure about more than just feelings .”

“Like what?”

“By ‘someone’ I meant Gold.” Emma winced as Red cringed.

    Seeing her discomfort, Red tried to backtrack. “Hey, the heart wants what it wants. True Love comes in a lot of colors.”

“True Love?” Emma scrunched her nose. “Why do you people always jump straight to that? I’m not even sure I True Like him yet.”

    Red gave her a humorous smile. “You did kiss him. Or did he kiss you?”

“I kissed him.” Emma ran a nervous hand through her hair. “I was fired up and he was agreeing with me for once and he’s treated me so normally and I’ve been so confused and… and he’s just different .”

“Not the first word that comes to mind, but continue.” Red gave her a look so open and honest that the sheriff knew exactly why everybody told her their secrets.

“I don’t know, I’ve always liked the more dangerous types,” Emma winced again, “probably from the lack of a stable childhood. He just… he’s just dark enough that I can be any version of myself, just selfish enough not to judge any of my decisions, and just shady enough that he understands the gray areas of life, even if he takes them to an extreme.”

    Red gave her a sad, almost guilty, look. “It sounds like you haven’t been around a lot of understanding people.”

    Their footsteps echoed against the tunnel walls for a minute. “When we went to talk to Zelena… I realized how much I’ve started blending into this town.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“I grew up in a morally gray world. There were laws, but beyond that, ethics were understood as ‘to each his own.’” Emma pursed her lips almost self consciously. “Then I came here, and as much as I didn’t believe Henry, some of what he said got to me. I started seeing myself as the hero and Regina as the villain. The Curse broke and everyone around me reaffirmed that. I brought people together in Neverland with my ‘we are different but we can work together’ thing.” She snorted, imitating herself in a higher voice, “‘A hero, a villain, a pirate.’ Somewhere along this yellow brick road of talking trees and green witches and black and white, I was so busy learning to believe in anything, I forgot that I didn’t believe in villains.”

    Far from looking surprised or appalled, Red smiled. “You didn’t?”

“No, never.” Emma shook her head, words coming and coming now that she was with someone who would let her say them; someone she knew but didn’t know too well - someone far removed from her complicated battles and even more complicated family. “I’ve always believed that people are made of their choices. No one is evil . Evil is an action, not an entity.” At Red’s huge smile, Emma muttered an unsure, “What?”

    The werewolf shook her head. “The Savior’s been here for so long, I wasn’t sure Sheriff Swan was ever coming back.”

“You… wanted that back?” Emma asked skeptically.

    Red laughed, as though everything was obvious. “We had heroes and rulers and knights back in the Enchanted Forest - what we didn’t have was you . You didn’t break the Curse by being just like everyone who was stuck in it. When you first came to Storybrooke, things started changing. You were turning this place into your world, the world we’re in. I’m so glad you’re with your family now, Emma, but I think it’s time you start separating being the sheriff from being the Savior.”

“What’s the difference?”

“The Savior helped the town; the sheriff helped the people.” Red bumped into her shoulder as they walked. “Your parents are caring and wonderful, but they see subjects to be guarded. You see people completely outside of yourself, helping them because you’re good, not because they’re your responsibility.”

“They are my responsibility now, though. I have to bring them their Happy Endings,” Emma sighed. “Like Gold said, I was meant to be a hero; I wasn’t given an option.”

“Did he say anything else?” Red prompted.

“We didn’t really have the time to talk about it.”

   Red tilted her head to the side. “Maybe do. As the puppetmaster of peoples’ futures, I think he can tell you a thing or two about choice.”

    Emma thought of the conversation they had had earlier that day, and for the first time, it occurred to her that he had probably only said exactly what he needed to say to get her moving. Maybe not outright lies, but very possibly half truths and twisted words in his rendition of a motivating pep talk. She scoffed and smiled.

“When there’s a lull in the storm, I think the two of us are going to have a lot to talk about. I think I’m finally feeling brave enough to ask for the whole truth.”

(*&*)

    Regina’s heels clicked against rock as they walked. “As much as I enjoy this rare bout of silence from you, we need to talk.”

    David tilted his head, not slowing his stride. “Do we really?”

“Yes. Surely you’ve noticed that we’re between a rock-” she motioned around them, then back towards the tunnel entrance, “-and a hard place.”

“We’ll get Henry back,” he insisted.

    Regina scoffed. “Of course we will; I’m here. You and your clueless little snow flower seem to be missing a lot today, don’t you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The problem that’s right in front of us, while worrisome, is not the biggest obstacle we’re facing. Miss Swan is clearly preoccupied by something else, and we are in the very poor position of being in between two powerful magic users with almost no inclination to grant either of their wishes.” Regina huffed. “As much as I hate to admit it, if Gold regains too much of his energy, we have no way of protecting Zelena from him.”

“I thought no one could use magic in the basement,” David said.

“No one except him.”

    David stopped, putting his hands on his hips; Regina stopped with him. “Then how exactly do we stop him?”

“You ask that question so often, I’d think you’ve learned that it’s never as simple as a one-sentence answer.” Regina shook her head. “Sure he has depleted energy, but I’m willing to bet he’d fight until he’s passed out to keep us from stopping him.”

“Then why don’t we let him?” David started walking again, Regina staying a step in front of him. “I think he’d be a lot easier to deal with unconscious, don’t you?”

“What would we do with him then?” Regina waved a hand in front of her. “Throw him in with Zelena? There isn’t a cage powerful enough to hold him.”

“We could have the dwarves make another one, like what we kept him in before,” he suggested.

“Oh, please. Don’t flatter yourself, shepard.” Regina gave a derisive laugh. “He could have escaped in five seconds if he had wanted to. He was exactly where he wanted to be.”

“What about Zelena? She kept him in a cage.”

    Regina’s lips parted, then curled into a smile, her eyes lighting up. “Every once in a while, you accidentally say something rather intelligent.” At his inquisitive and offended glance, Regina continued, “I’ve known him as untouchable for so long that sometimes, I forget that his dagger is within reach.”

“You’re saying we can get it now?” David clarified. “I mean, we almost took it from him after you left to go check on Henry, but Emma stopped us.” He looked down with slight guilt. “Maybe Emma was right, though - what if he’s trying to change?”

    Regina shook her head. “His son is dead, David. As tragic as that is, without Neal and Belle, what are you expecting from him?”

“He has gone above and beyond in the last few hours; Emma wasn’t wrong about that,” David reminded, his mind caught between arguments.

“In the last few hours, what he’s done is this.” Regina waved her hand towards him. “Gold is a master manipulator, and you think he hasn’t been playing on your honor? He’s done nothing out of the goodness of his heart. I know you want to save everyone, but it’s time to look at this logically. Do you really think your family’s safe as long as he’s free? Do you think the town is safe? It’s time to be a ruler David, not a knight. The rallying is over, we’re ready to go to war.”

    David looked at her for a minute. “I think Snow’s really rubbing off on you.”

“Shut up.”

    He laughed. “All right. I don’t think he’s had the chance to put the dagger away, so it should still be on him. We’ll wait for an opportunity, then move in.” He grinned teasingly. “Look at that - a one sentence answer.”

    Regina rolled her eyes. “It took quite a few more sentences to get there.”

    David’s smile lasted for a while longer before he seemed to remember something. “What did you mean when you said Emma’s preoccupied?”

“As her father, you should have noticed,” Regina said.

“Well humor me, then.”

    Regina shrugged, turning at the bend in the tunnel. “She’s looking ahead of the battle, too, but for different reasons, I’m guessing.”

“She mentioned something a while ago about wanting to move back to New York,” David said.

    Regina stopped abruptly. “ What ?! She wants to take my son away from me again , after I just got him back?! Over my cold , dead , rotting corpse!”

“Relax!” David placated. “She wouldn’t do it-”

“Hell no, she wouldn’t-”

“Because her family’s here. She’s just worried, like you are - like we all are.” David smiled without a hint of worry or doubt. “Once Gold and Zelena are both locked away, Storybrooke will be safe again, and she won’t have a reason to leave.”

    Regina glowered and picked up her pace. “She won’t have the option to leave.”

Chapter Text

    The tension between Gold and Snow was palpable, her with her lips pursed tightly and him with his jaw clenched hard. Neither had ever disliked the other particularly much, but they had never fooled themselves into thinking they were on the same side. Even now, when technically they were, there was still a battle of wills.

    Snow broke the silence with her typical heroic promise. “We won’t let you kill her.”

“Don’t hold your head so high and mighty, dearie. Your honor is bound and means nothing if you go through with this deal. Surely you don’t want that.” She could hear his sneer, even if she refused to look at it.

“Sometimes heroes have to make tough decisions,” she conceded.

    He barked out a short, derisive laugh. “Oh, but you never do, do you? Those words only mean something when it suits you, and your decisions are never very hard to begin with.”

“I think I liked you more before you got involved in our business,” Snow said, head high, back rigid - like a queen.

“I know I liked it more when it wasn’t my business,” Gold snarled.

    Snow puffed out a breath. “What do we have to give you to end this tirade?”

    Before she could blink, Gold had advanced on her, backing her up against the rough cave wall. His nose was an inch from her face, and his anger burned barely repressed under his skin. For all her confidence, she was scared, as most would be at the threat of a demon. Snow knew this rage was meant for more than just her - this was the rare show of emotion that was always restrained behind an indifferent mask and a cold twist of his lips. This was the loss of a mother and a father and a wife and a True Love and a child.

“Tirade? Is my son’s life worth no justice higher than a misguided tirade to you?” He growled, his teeth bared, his eyes alight. “Of course it is. He wasn’t your family-” Gold drew in a sharp breath. “-He wasn’t your baby boy. You didn’t watch him walk for the first time or breathe for the last, so this justice means nothing to you.” He swallowed hard, his emotions having crashed like a wave and began rolling back. Gold stepped away. “It matters naught. However you may view this, it will be painted in blood by the end - hers, yours, or mine. There’s a price to be paid, and my boy is worth far more than a tirade .”

    He stepped back completely, allowing her room to release the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. The first feeling that washed over her after relief was guilt. Baelfire hadn’t been her baby boy, but she did have one, and he meant the world to her. Emma may not have died, but she hadn’t seen her first steps either, and that tore her apart. To see her daughter’s last breath would kill her.

“You’re right; I’m sorry,” Snow whispered into the growing space between them. “Neal was a good man.” She chanced a glance at Gold. “I don’t think he would have wanted you to kill anyone .”

“Of course he wouldn’t have - he was more than good; he was perfect.” Gold met her tentative gaze with a murderous one. “And what did he get? The wrong name on a headstone that his father wasn’t there to lay a flower on.”

    She had forgotten that they had held the funeral without him, and she winced at the realization. “We can have anoth-”

“Don’t.” Gold kept his voice low, unwilling to give in to another tsunami. “I appreciate the sentiment, Your Highness, but I’ve mourned. Now I’m ready to pay my last respects. The only thing standing in my way is you and your self-righteous kin.”

“And I’m sorry to say that we won’t be moving any time soon,” Snow stated firmly.

    Gold picked up his pace again. “Then you will be moved.”

    The rest of the tunnel was traversed in silence.

(*&*)

    Eventually, all three tunnels merged into one large one, which explained the lack of variety in smell. Red was relieved that her tracking skills were as sharp as ever. She was, however, less relieved at the consensus of silence that seemed to have fallen over the group. The tunnels had all come together at about the same point, yet not a word had been spoken at or since the reunion. She had wanted to speak up on more than one occasion, this mission feeling so reminiscent of the ones in the Enchanted Forest - besides their typical opponents having switched sides - but she knew that Storybrooke was different. Once upon a time, she would have been happy to share her opinion, to try to bring the fragmented group together. But then again - once upon a time, Snow would have been walking by her side, not four paces in front of her. It was hard to lose a best friend, especially when she didn’t know when or how it had happened and didn’t have anyone to slide into that place by her side. Until someone did.

“This is weird, right?” Emma leaned towards her ear, having sidled up to her.

    Red looked over gratefully, speaking just as quietly. “I don’t think we were the only ones who had a conversation in those tunnels.”

“Yeah, but I think ours was less dividing.” The sheriff eyed the increased and noticeable distance between Gold and everyone else.

    Red smirked. “Looks like Snow got him good with something. Why don’t you go kiss his boo-boo and make it better?”

    Emma gave her a side look as the werewolf snickered. “Haha, very funny.” Red’s teasing stopped the moment she began to look nervous. “Hey… I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

“Uh-oh.” Red raised her eyebrows, all traces of humor gone, replaced by growing worry.

“No, no, it’s not bad .” Emma ran her hand over the back of her neck, looking unsure. “Just before…” she motioned ahead of them, “all of that happens, I wanted to know how we’re related.”

“Related?”

    Emma nodded slowly. “When we were talking about my position in the town, I started thinking about family, and all the people my parents are close with, and I remembered… were you supposed to be my godmother?”

    Red waited a beat, then laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, I guess that’s kind of a little… strange now?”

“Yeah.” Emma matched her discomfort. “I mean, you must have been pretty close to Mar- uh, Mom to get a title like that, huh?”

    Footsteps echoed around them, and Red knew that Snow was listening. As soon as they had stopped whispering, their conversation had become public property. The smell of monkey was growing stronger in her nose, and she knew they were almost to their destination. If there was ever an opportunity to make Snow listen, then ruminate for the length of a battle, now was it.

“We were close, back when she was an outlaw,” Red answered, waiting for the inevitable prompt.

    Emma did not disappoint. “What happened?”

“I haven’t been sure for a long time, but now that I’m thinking about it… she outgrew me, I suppose. When I first met her, she was everything you can imagine a good person with no more enforced responsibilities turns out to be. She was kind like a princess, but sharp like a thief. She was soft like a woman of few troubles, but firm like a woman of many. She was strategic like a ruler…” Red took a deep breath and stressed, “but saw every individual like they were one special person in a sea of faces… just as a peasant, who worked and tried and understood did.” Red let that breath free, and said what would have been almost treacherous three decades ago. “And then she found a prince and gained a kingdom, and she was more than a princess and a thief - she was a queen, just a queen. Not kind, but merciful. Not firm, but rigid. Not strategic, but commanding.” As the most daring act she had done in years, Red looked to Regina, making a comparison no one would have thought logical mere minutes before. “Everything a queen should be.”

    Emma never stopped looking at her, a vindicating understanding showing in the woman’s eyes. Gold stared ahead, completely indifferent, or perhaps having reached that conclusion long before. Regina looked offended at being displayed next to her step-daughter, muttering, “I’m not merciful.” David and Snow were both on the edge of protest, but Gold interrupted swiftly, diverting their attention to the original main focus.

“There’s Henry.”

    They all turned from Red to see the boy sitting in the middle of the cavern that the tunnel opened into several yards in front of them. Ropes were tied around his torso, binding his hands to his sides; but his expression was as confident as ever, his jaw set firmly. He knew they were going to save him.

    David held up his sword, jogging towards the entrance. “Then what are we waiting for?”

    Snow, Regina, and Emma were quick to follow suit, but Red grabbed Emma’s arm when Gold made no move towards the tunnel opening. The sheriff’s head whipped around, a question on the tip of her tongue when she traced Red’s line of sight. Gold gave them both a sideways glance, the smallest of smirks curling his lips as he looked back to whom his face said was the most foolish man in all the worlds.

“David, sto-!”

    Before the words had fully passed Emma’s lips, David was inside the cavern and a swarm of flying monkeys was on top of him. She yanked her arm out of the grasp Red hadn’t realized she still held, running towards her father with a hastily drawn sword. Regina formed a fireball in her palm before remembering their earlier conversation and instead releasing a burst of magic. With the simians temporarily thrown back, everyone took the moment to collect themselves. It lasted approximately five seconds, which was enough for Snow to knock an arrow, Emma to cock her gun, Red to throw off her cloak, and Gold to confirm his suspicion that using magic would not be a wise fighting style in his case.

    Once that moment had passed, the beasts were back on them, and everyone had moved fully into the cavern. Henry struggled against his bonds, desperate to help, to no avail as the battle broke out around him. Wings beat against the pinnacle of the cave causing dirt and rocks to fall onto the combatants below. David grunted out curses as his earlier shoulder wounds were deepened; Snow fired arrows into the least lethal places she could easily target; Emma swung her sword with far more strength than finesse, hitting all the monkeys she could reach and letting a bullet fly here and there; Red, in her wolf state, pounced on anything that flew too low or too close; and Regina and Gold both carved their way towards Henry, far less worried about the battle itself. Both sorcerers used a small amount of magic to shield themselves from further damage, Gold unable to expend any more than that. Claws came at him from one side, and he brought his blade up to catch them, snarling as Regina sent the monkey flying backwards.

    She smirked and yelled over the sounds echoing around them. “There’s no shame in needing a lot of help!”

    Gold bared his teeth at her. “I’m far more capable than you, dearie!”

“Guys! A little help?” Henry called out.

    Both rushed to his side, Gold cutting him free before Regina could do it. She ran her hands over his head, checking for injuries. He pushed her hands away gently, making that face between satisfaction and embarrassment that only teenagers could manage. Gold smiled, glad to have the boy back, but disinclined to divert his attention from the battle.

“We need to go,” Gold said, helping Henry to his feet and doing his own, more discreet, once over. “Are you all right?”

    Henry smiled, walking between Regina and Gold. “I’m great now that the cavalry's arrived. Can I help?”

    Gold sliced his sword across a wing as Regina sent another beast flying backwards. “You most certainly may not.”

    Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the simians flying towards Henry, and he felt the moment the claws pierced the barrier.

“I won’t let anything happen to Emma or Henry, you have my word.”

    Gold grabbed Henry by the shirt collar and pushed him into Regina, sending them both to the cave floor as the magic shattered. Flying right through where the boy had been standing, the monkey flew into him with claws extended. Regina’s “hey!” was lost entirely in Gold’s pained groan, the beast having pierced scar tissue and sent him sprawling backwards onto the shoulder wounds graciously gifted to him by the demon. One moment passed between the impact and Gold shoving his sword into the monkey’s stomach, which was enough time for it to rake it’s claws down his front, shredding his suit and some of the skin underneath. Gold managed to hold this groan back, forcibly pushing familiar feelings down and rolling over to slide his sword out of the simian. Half of his shirt hung off of him in tatters, but he was hardly more displeased than he had been with the mess preceding this one, far more focused as he was on keeping the memories of similarity at bay.

“ Gold ,” Regina chided with more exasperation than mourning. “If I can’t filet the townspeople, you can’t kabab them.”

    Gold grabbed Henry’s arm, the boy having stood to help just as Gold had stabbed the monkey. “Well I’m not going to eat it, Your Majesty, so whoever this unfortunate soul is still has a chance.”

    Regina shrugged, motioning for them to go in front of her. “ I’ve always wanted to try monkey.”

“I’ll be sure to relay that to your dramatic archer, assuming we find him whole and human.” Gold smirked back at her as she slipped something into the inside of her blazer. “In the event that we don’t, you’re not adverse to a tail, are you?”

    She sneered with all the acid she could muster. “Keep moving, imp. We need to get Henry out of here.”

“I can walk out of a cave , guys.” Henry adopted a very indignant expression. “If you’d stop grabbing me.”

    Gold released his arm but walked a step ahead of him. “You can follow out of a cave, too.”

    Henry’s exaggerated sigh was lost to the din as the three of them moved in a fast walk across the cavern, cutting down simians as they went. As soon as they entered the tunnel, they broke off into as fast of a run as an injured man and a woman in heels could manage. Henry, kindly, kept pace with them. Several minutes later, more echoing footsteps joined the noise. No one stopped to wait or breathe until they were all gathered together on the other side of the three tunnels. David’s shirt was blood soaked, Snow gauging the depth of his wounds. Emma was hugging Henry as tightly as she could, making promises of safety that she very much intended to keep. Red had her cloak draped over her shoulders, blood covering her face and fingers.

    Gold reached up to touch his dagger for reassurance, his blood going cold as his fingers touched bloody and bare skin. His breath tried to stop and grow harder at the same time, his heart skipping. He looked down at his torn jacket and released that breath in a stuttering exhale. His mind was frantic and the world spun and he couldn’t string logical thoughts together.

    The only thing he could think was, “Zelena.”

“Close, but no cig…” Regina stared him down, raising an elegant hand to let his dagger hang from her fingers. “Well…”

    Gold’s first instinct was to grab for it or growl or fight or do something , but he stood frozen in fear that he tried to disguise as indifference. He swallowed down the sob that tried to escape on muscle memory alone.

    Gold enunciated every word very deliberately. “I must have dropped it. Thank you for retrieving it, dearie.”

“Oh, you’re very welcome,” Regina snickered. “But you know what they say…”

“Regina,” Emma growled, turning from Henry for the first time to notice their exchange.

“Finders, keepers.” The queen smirked.

“One doesn’t find freedom,” Gold clenched his jaw, “one plots for it.”

“‘ Plots ’?” Regina threw her head back in a laugh overflowing with ridicule. “Why, there was no need. I wouldn’t have lamented all the years of working around you so much if I had known how easy you would make it in the end.”

    Emma took a step towards them, everyone else watching speechlessly. “Regina, this isn’t the end of anything. Give him the dagger.”

    Regina looked at her incredulously. “Really? All the trouble he’s put you through, and you don’t relish this at all? I’m having the time of my life.”

    Coming back to his head and reminding himself which sister he was dealing with, Gold snarled. “It’ll be the last time if you don’t offer that dagger back on your knees.”

    Regina made an O with her mouth, very reminiscent of the mockery he had dealt to her just after the Curse had broken. “Actually, I think I’d like it better if you were on your knees.”

“Mom!” Henry chastised before she could take her threat any further.

    Regina’s smile disappeared, her eyes cast towards the ground before she looked back up with a much softer tone. “I’m sorry, Henry. I’ve been playing this game for so long - I’m just relieved to finally win, that’s all.”

“You haven’t won anything yet, dearie.” Gold’s eyes lit with a feral light.

“Mom, give him the dagger, please .”

    The situation was beginning to feel very much like a step into the past until David stepped forward, covered in blood but looking as determined as ever. “It’s okay, Henry; we’re not going to hurt him.”

“ We ?” Emma looked ready to castigate her father, looking to Snow for help.

“David, what are you talking about?” she asked softly.

    He turned to his wife. “Snow, I know it’s not our typical route, but how else are we going to keep our deal with Zelena?”

    Snow tilted her head guiltily. “ Regina ’s deal.”

“Hey! Don’t throw me under the bus.” Regina looked affronted.

    Snow shrugged helplessly. “I’m just saying.”

“Well stop saying.”

“Either way, this is a harmless solution to a-” David motioned towards Gold, who stood stockstill exactly where he had been, “-very dangerous problem.”

“ Harmless ?” Emma cried. “Stealing someone’s willpower isn’t harmless!”

“Just give it back!” Henry tried.

    Regina frowned. “Henry, I love you, but you’re looking at this through tinted lenses-”

“And you’re not?” he argued.

“Henry’s right, Regina,” Emma cut in. “I know you two have a weird frenemy thing, but this is too far.”

“Like faking the failed resurrection of my True Love wasn’t?” Regina snapped.

    Snow waved a placating hand. “I think we’ve all done some regrettable and hurtful things-”

“Don’t you dare pass everything off as ‘regrettable and hurtful.’ Your rainbow vomit can’t fix everything,” Regina said venomously.

    Red attempted to join the fray. “I know this isn’t exactly my place-”

“You’re right, it’s not,” Regina interrupted forcefully. “Don’t you have a monkey bone to go chew on?”

“ Regina ,” Snow berated.

    David spoke up again. “I think we’re getting a little off topic.”

    Snow leveled him with a glare. “Yes, speaking of ‘we’...”

“Or maybe this topic is fine.” David held up his hands.

“Guys, really!” Red yelled. “He’s right there, let’s just talk to h-”

“Oh, stop barking.” Regina waved a dismissive hand.

“Regina, she’s part of this too!” Emma defended.

“In what way?”

    Emma threw a very insistent hand in Red’s direction. “As a concerned citizen and someone who always helps us without question, I think she deserves a say.”

    Finally, Gold spoke, lowly and coldly, “A say?”

    Emma’s mouth opened and closed. “I didn’t mean it li-”

“I don’t care what you meant,” Gold cut across. “In fact, all of your arguments are irrelevant save those of Regina and the charming prince.”

    Snow pursed her lips for patience. “Why, exactly?”

“Because they, plural, are the ones who-” Gold gritted his teeth against the prideless words he had grown used to spitting, “-hold the power - for now.”

Chapter Text

“That’s more like it.” Regina smirked.

    David moved closer to Regina, imploring her. “He’s wrong - everyone ’s opinion matters in this, because all of us will have this on our conscience.”

    Regina sniffed. “My conscience will be just fine, thank you for the concern.”

“What conscience?” Red muttered.

    Ignoring her, Regina continued, “Besides, it’s not like this is an evil thing to do - we’re not killing him! Why do you people always have to make decisions so much harder?”

    Snow leveled Gold with a look only the two of them were privy to. “Because heroes make the hard decisions.”

“The hard decision is not killing him,” Regina said. “Do you know how I know? Because I’m having a hard time deciding it.”

“Regina, he just helped us save our son, after helping us save the town, after helping us do a million other things.” Emma waved her hands, looking a little manic. “He has no reason to be a danger anymore! All he’s done is help us because he cares about Henry.”

    Regina rolled her eyes. “I think all of you are forgetting that I’ve known him the longest. He has no reason to be a danger for now . And the fact that he cares about Henry is yet another reason to be worried.”

    Henry furrowed his eyebrows. “So now that the most powerful-” Regina wrinkled her nose, “-person in town is looking out for me, you’re still worried that I’m not protected enough?”

“He’s right, Regina,” Snow agreed. “If anything, letting him be free and keep his magic is what’s going to protect our family. His magic is keeping Zelena locked up, his magic is what defeated that demon, and his magic is what he wants to use to keep Henry safe.” She looked over to Gold. “Right?”

    Gold gave her a succinct nod.

    Regina sighed. “All right, I can see that you’ve all forgotten who he is in the face of all ‘his magic.’” She began a small pace, looking everyone in the eyes in turn. “Let’s say I give him back his dagger and we all go home. We turn all the monkeys back into people and find Robin and everyone else who’s missing. We live in peace for a while, and then the next disaster comes - because we all know there will be more. Gold decides it’s not worth it to stop this one, so instead - to keep Henry safe - he takes them both out of Storybrooke and leaves us all here to die.”

    Gold admits in his head that her hypothetical plan sounds exactly like something he would do. Except, at some point in the very near past, the thought of leaving the sheriff behind had come to be accompanied with a sharp tinge of guilt. A small one, but one a lot larger than what he had felt before.

“Mom, I would never leave you guys,” Henry assured softly.

“I didn’t say it would be consensual,” she clarified.

    Snow looked at Gold, and then at the ground. “Emma, she’s right. Maybe he has been clouding our opinion of him with a bunch of good works. He did try to trick us into letting him get away with murder.”

“I didn’t trick you into anything, dearie,” Gold growled.

“You might as well have,” David argued.

“He didn’t,” Emma cut in. “And he wouldn’t leave with Henry.”

“How can you be sure?” Snow asked.

    Emma locked eyes with Gold, not a glare or a threat, but a statement that he well understood. “Because he knows I would follow him.”

    Gold returned her gaze with another nod, because he did know that. He had moved heaven and earth to get to his son, and he would expect no less from her. If Emma had to choose between killing him and keeping her son with her, there would be no debate. That feeling, above all the other mutually understood threats and promises and darknesses between them, he grasped better than any other.

“Well excuse me if I’m not willing to bet my son’s well-being on your tracking skills after you lost a coma patient , but I’d rather be safe than sorry.” Regina raised her chin.

“More than just Emma would go after him,” Red added, a look of fierce loyalty painted on her face.

    Emma smiled her thanks. “Regina, Henry has a town full of people looking after him.” She ruffled his hair, earning a fireless glare. “Besides, he’s quite the fighter on his own.”

    Regina gave her an exasperated look. “As much as I appreciate the overwhelming determination, may I remind you why we’re down here to begin with? I’ll save you the brain cells - because it wasn’t enough. A town full of people? He got taken by a monkey .”

    Before Emma could respond, David cut in, “Let’s take it to the council, then.”

“What?” Emma asked. “We have a council ?”

    Regina rolled her eyes. “How are you still alive?”

“You’re going to let a table of imbeciles decide the fate of the rest of my immortal life?” Gold asked incredulously.

“It’s only fair,” Snow said. “You’ll be brought before the council; they’ll all get their say; we’ll decide together.”

    Gold grit his teeth. There it was again - their “say.” He was nothing more than a problem to be voted on where everyone got a choice but him.

“Fine,” Regina agreed. “We already know what they’ll vote anyway. Considering who’s on the council.”

“I’m on the council,” Red reminded.

    Regina pursed her lips. “I forgot about you.”

    Emma rolled her eyes. “I suppose a council is at least better than just Regina.”

“We won’t be able to get them all together until tomorrow, so what exactly do you propose we do with him until then?” Regina asked tiredly.

“Let’s put him in the station,” David suggested. “You have the dagger, so we won’t need to post a guard.”

“Fine,” Regina said again. “Now that that’s settled, can we leave? It’ll take whatever’s left of the night to get this dust out of my hair.”

(*&*)

    Gold sat on the cot in his cell, staring at the empty sheriff’s office. The motley group had walked - or limped, depending - the rest of the way out of the mines and then teleported to the station. After they had led him into one of the cells, they had all left, Emma with a guilty look in her eyes. He didn’t blame her for any of this. In fact, she was one of the few people fighting on his side - and the only person fighting for him .

    A lifetime ago, Gold had sat on the same cot staring at the same office, only it hadn’t been empty. He remembered Emma’s dry but gentle teasing, back when everything had still been simple for her. Then, he had just been a man whose motivations she couldn’t figure out. Now she knew them, all of them, and he wondered if that was why she had kissed him. For just a moment, he entertained the idle thought that she had kissed him because she finally knew who he was and didn’t mind it all that much. Then again, wasn’t he her pet project now, instead of Belle’s? He hoped he would have the chance to find out.

    In that cell, he got to take the first clear, deep breath he had taken in twenty-four hours, maybe longer. Mere days ago, the sheriff had marched into his shop asking for a deal, and since then, he had gone on two dates, built a prison, come an inch from killing his son’s murderer, talked far more than he had ever meant to, and said a final goodbye to the two people he had wanted to make a family with for decades. Gold sunk down onto the cot with his messy clothes and his gun digging into his back, feeling nothing but pure exhaustion and no small amount of fear. They had his dagger, and once again, there was nothing he could do about it. He had a million things to think about to distract him from that, however.

    His battle with Zelena’s demon had raised so many questions. Chief among them was how he had supposedly summoned the creature. He was sure her magic had something to do with the hint she had given him, just as he was beginning to believe it was all related to his slow healing. He had been sure that his injuries from months ago hadn’t healed because of the price of dulling the pain with magic, but perhaps it was more. Just as she had stored magic in her monkeys, maybe she had stored magic in him. Surely that wasn’t the same magic that had healed him during his fight. No, that had been bright, and really, rather out of place. So out of place, in fact, that he was mostly convinced it wasn’t his. Perhaps it had been Emma’s. He supposed one could only hope.

     And that memory. “Bae.” That memory had been brighter than any healing magic. That memory was everything. That memory reminded him of the boy still here that the one he had lost would want him to protect. Gold wanted to do more than protect him, though; he wanted to know him. Henry was a remarkable boy, and Gold wanted to be a part of his life before he lost the chance. Or maybe he already had. He figured, either way, he would know by the end of the next day.

     For the night, however, he was exhausted.

(*&*)

     When the morning came - almost afternoon, because they had been out until early hours rather than late ones - Gold was extremely thankful for the sleep he had managed to capture. It certainly wasn’t enough to rejuvenate him after intense magic usage and a painful drain on his emotions, but then again, he had been operating sans emotions and care for his health for centuries - what was two hours? Regina held the dagger openly like it was a bauble for show, commanding him to straighten up the town. While he appreciated that she left her orders there when she could have been overbearing, haughty, and specific, he was much less grateful for her obvious display of his greatest weakness.

“Would you mind putting that away, Your Majesty?” he asked in a mild tone that did nothing to hide his frustration.

     One by one, things continued to right themselves around them - concrete fitting back together like puzzle pieces, street lamps being unbent and righted, cars flipping onto their wheels and being pushed back into their parking spots, power lines zipping back into place with stray sparks sizzling in the air - as they had been doing for the last couple hours. The earthquake and resulting magic had caused absolute mayhem, and the demon had followed with its rage and brutish nature before Gold and Emma had reemerged from - well, from doing several important things. Everything came with a price, he thought, and a few stolen moments were paid for by his energy and pride.

     Regina smirked without looking over at him, her eyes trained on his work. “I would mind, actually. There are a lot of things that I mind very much, but I have a feeling that won’t be much of a problem now.”

“More of a problem than you may think,” Gold bit back.

     Her grip on the dagger made him nervous for good reason, but Regina wasn’t her sister, and he had much more room to throw up defenses. She may ask him to listen, but he had confidence that she wouldn’t ask him to be subservient.

“Good work.” Regina nodded in satisfaction at the street and surrounding buildings. “Come.”

     Gold growled, because she didn’t have to phrase it like he was a dog, but he followed anyway, before the dagger could push him. When he saw Granny’s appear ahead of them after a few minutes, he had several pathetic questions on the tip of his tongue, chief among them will you make me eat? but he bit his cheek and walked as he always had - like he owned the town. Technically, he still did. The dinging of the bell as they walked in grated against his mind, but he noticed that Regina had tucked the dagger safely out of sight in her jacket. So she wasn’t entirely stupid. Or at least, not enough that she didn’t realize what a coveted item that could be.

“Regina!” Granny came bustling over, a stoic expression painted across her face and guilt shining through. “How’s Henry?”

     Regina sniffed but said nothing weighted with blame. “He’s sleeping in with the Charmings. All of them.”

“Good. The boy deserves it.” She shook her head. “He’s been through too much.” Then she chanced a glance at Gold. “I hear we have a decision to make today.”

“Yes, but we’re just here to order now.” Regina raised an eyebrow, clearly ready to leave.

     Widow Lucas pulled her writing pad out. “Of course. Go ahead.”

“A cheeseburger, a turkey sandwich, and…” She turned to Gold. “What do you want?”

     That sounded like an optional answer question, so he took a chance. “I’m not particularly hungry.”

     She glared at him. “Fine. What do I care if you’re starved? You’ll be sitting in a cell all day anyway.”

     He knew that was her “last chance” warning, so he replied with a venomous, “That has yet to be decided.”

     Not asking again, Regina nodded to Granny, who muttered, “Not a very hard decision,” as she walked away. They stood by the door instead of sitting, and Gold allowed the energy that had slowly returned through the night - what was left of it - work its way from wound to wound, closing those created by the previous day’s battles. When they healed with no complaint besides a slight phantom pain, Gold couldn’t help but wonder how much that supported his running theory about Zelena’s still-lingering magic keeping his older wounds from closing.

“I can feel you doing something,” Regina said quietly.

     Not looking at her, Gold answered her unspoken question, “Just stitching a few tears.”

“I thought I told you not to use magic.”

“You told me not to use magic to hurt anyone,” he corrected neutrally.

     Despite realizing the blatant loophole in the stipulations she had listed for him before letting him out of his cell - and likely coming to the conclusion that there were several more - she revised none of them, and said nothing further. Gold was angry at himself - and his curse even angrier - at being thankful for that. He knew it could be worse, but this was still bad enough. When had he become the dog he was treated as, begging for scraps?

“Who is the extra order for?” he inquired lightly, as though he wasn’t worried that he already knew.

     He knew. “I do feed her, you know.”

     Gold kept all his words firmly lodged in his throat until his not-so-polished - covered in blood and dirt, actually - shoe hit the first step of the basement, and then there were no words left to hold back. In fact, there was barely enough oxygen to breathe, but Regina either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Either way, it wasn’t important, because he was face to face with his son’s murder in moments. He felt so many emotions at once that it didn’t matter how drained his mind felt from the day before and all its walks down memory lane. Anger, because he had been so close before the heroes had ripped everything away. Self-hatred, because he had let that happen, one way or another. Resignation, because of course there would be as many obstacles as possible. Fear, because he was right where he didn’t want to be, and that was Regina’s choice to make now, not his. Forefront, however, was determination - because he had made his son a promise, and he intended to keep this one.

     And she needed to know that, too. “I’m going to kill you.”

“Feisty today, isn’t he?” Zelena cackled - wisely out of arms’ reach - her eyes darting to her sister with a hint of fear, looking for the reassurance from the previous day’s deal.

“Actually, the whole murder argument is why we’re here.” Regina pulled out the dagger like it was a trophy, and the witch’s eyes sparkled when they landed on the dried blood coating the weapon. His dried blood. “As promised, he will not be able to kill you. Thank you for your help.”

“Of course, darling.” Zelena smiled in a single shade of blinding white.

     And because Regina still had a bit of pent up anger from the years of their battles of wit, the next words out of her mouth were, “Gold, give her the burger.”

     Gold reached into the bag of food and napkins, gritting his teeth against a grating laugh that he was sure would come. When it didn’t, he snuck a glance at the witch. Zelena’s mouth was twisted unflatteringly, her nose wrinkled in a half-sneer, and her eyebrows were cocked in a rather askew manner. She looked positively green with an expression many people thought was just her face. Her envy almost made him smirk, but he scowled instead. Controlling him was just another thing that Regina got that had slipped through the other sister’s fingers; he wasn’t particularly vindicated by being another of her lost privileges. In the spirit of being upset and uncooperative, he eased the wrapped food through the bars, letting it slip from his fingers when Zelena reached for it.

“I said ‘ give ’ it to her,” Regina chided as her sister bent down to pick it up, almost looking like she was going to throw it back at him.

“She has it, doesn’t she?” he shot back, not caring if he sounded petulant.

     Regina sighed in a way that would have fooled anyone into thinking she was babysitting toddlers. “Enjoy your meal, witch. We have somewhere to be.”

     And off they went, to decide the fate of the most powerful man in Storybrooke. How things changed.

Chapter Text

     He certainly would never admit it out loud, but Gold was anxious. A table of foolish people - all of whom he had ill-born history with - sat before him, ready to decide what to do with his soul, which was tied to the dagger now laying conspicuously in the middle of the table. When he had killed Zoso all those years ago, he had never imagined he would end up here. He had been so careful.

“Is everyone here?” Regina asked briskly, stepping into her familiar role.

“I believe so.” Snow nodded her confirmation.

“Then let’s begin.” Regina sat at the head of the meeting table, at home in town hall as she had been for years before. “First, the matter of Gold’s freedom.”

     And thus, the chaos began.

“Easy. He shouldn’t have any.” Grumpy crossed his arms, looking for all the world like his word was law.

     The Blue Fairy held her chin high, speaking with that air that she knew every secret ever spoken. “Yes, any freedom granted at all is too much leeway. I think everyone in this room has seen first hand the traps this demon can escape. Best to be safe. I propose-”

“Now hold on,” Red cut in, ignoring the fairy’s piercing glare, “do you all have memories that short? He just saved us all. And then Henry. After being brought back from saving us all before. After saving Henry.”

“Hold your tongue, girl,” Granny chided. “Let the fairy speak.”

     Before an argument could break out between the two, one started somewhere else, starting with Emma’s defensive, “Maybe the fairy should take a back seat on this one. Correct me if I’m wrong-”

“You’re probably wrong.” Regina pursed her lips.

“-But isn’t she the reason I was transported or teleported or shipped with a fee or whatever, to this world?”

“No!” Geppetto replied with a look of fierce responsibility. “That was my fault. Let her say her piece.”

     The Blue Star opened her mouth, but was interrupted before she could even start by Grumpy. “Actually I’m pretty sure that was the Evil Queen.” He shot a look at Regina before continuing. “And I’m with the Savior. Blue sucks.”

“Grumpy!” Snow gasped, astounded. “How could you say that?”

     The dwarf stared down the fairy’s graceful scowl. “She tried to separate me from Nova!”

“Your True Love?” Belle furrowed her eyebrows.

     Gold couldn’t figure out why she was present, or why Jones seemed to have been invited. He didn’t look like he cared much, though, with his muddy boots propped up on the table as he admired his nails. Gold’s face remained relaxed throughout the debate, standing in the corner with his hands folded in front of him since he had been commanded not to speak. All he had now was flimsy trust in a sheriff he had never been more grateful for sticking close to.

“For the good of all!” the Blue Star defended.

“People!” Regina cut off further protest. “The knat’s ambiguous motives in every affair that has nothing to do with her is not supposed to be our topic of conversation.”

     Killian’s feet dropped from the table as he sat up. “No, it’s just delaying the only reasonable conclusion anyone should be reaching today: No matter the accusation, Rumplestiltskin is guilty. There, I’ve solved your quandary.”

“I hate to agree with the pirate, but…” The dwarf huffed. “I do.”

“As do I.” David stood up, and Gold rolled his eyes. “Listen, I know this is less about the person for some of you, and more about the morals. I respect that - hell, that’s why there’s a council. But the fact remains that Rumplestiltskin is no ordinary person. This is not a case that will pave the way for law in Storybrooke, though - as has recently been pointed out - that is something we need to address.” He turned to Snow. “I know I wasn’t entirely transparent about my intentions here, but they are honorable.” He turned back to the table. “As are everyone else’s, I’m sure. Rumplestiltskin is dangerous, and this decision is not for us, but for the town of people whose protection we’ve been tasked with.”

     Gold didn’t have to wait to know what the responses would be.

“Well said, child.”

“Here, here!”

“I knew I liked you for a reason, mate.”

     In the middle of all the congratulations for a speech well given, Emma stood up rather abruptly. With the look of uncertainty on her face, Gold was sure she was about to run out of the room. Instead, as her father slowly sat, she coughed out a very stilted, “No.” She wiped her hands nervously on her jeans and faltered for a moment more before her face set in determination. “Look, grand gestures or whatever aren’t really my thing-”

“We’ve noticed,” Regina added helpfully.

     Emma sent her a glare before continuing. “But you’re wrong. You’re all super sure about heroics and what it means, and I was kinda jumping on that train, too. Until I started talking to someone.” Her eyes met Gold’s for a brief moment, a moment just for them, then skipped over to Red, who gave her an encouraging nod. “Then I realized that we’ve all been a little off. What makes us heroes or not isn’t the way we treat the people we like; it’s the way we treat the people we don’t like. Gold’s done a lot of things in your world, but it sounds like your world worked a little differently. I’m not saying that makes it okay, but here Regina sits,” she motioned to the woman in question, who sat rigidly with a rather unpleasant look on her face. “You gave her more than a few chances before she caught on, but she did it for Henry. From what I’ve seen in the last year, Gold’s trying to be better for Henry, too. He’s a special boy, and not just because he’s my kid. He brings out the best in people.” Emma met Gold’s eyes again, but this time she held them for all to see. “Maybe Gold’s best is a little better than you all give him credit for.”

     Archie was the first to chime in. “I think that’s excellent, Emma. And absolutely right. I made a lot of big mistakes-” he looked at Geppetto regretfully, “-before I realized that I had better options.”

     Geppetto adopted his own regretful smile and turned it towards Snow. “So did I.”

     Snow smiled sadly, sneaking a glance at Regina. “I did too.”

     Staring hard at the table, Red added, “Sometimes it takes a few good friends before you can be a good friend.”

“And sometimes those good friends have to have a little patience,” Belle agreed, though she wasn’t looking at Gold.

“How could you defend him, love?” Killian laughed without humor. “He ruined everything for you.”

     Finally, Belle looked up at him. “No, he didn’t. He ruined everything for himself, but now we have a chance to help him.”

     Gold tried to keep his lips from twisting into some manner of distasteful look, but he wasn’t sure how well he managed. He was dumbfounded, all of a sudden. This woman who he had loved, who had told him she would stay only to help him be something other than a monster, who he had finally made his peace with being separated from - she offered him pity when he could not speak for himself. Somehow, without his permission, his eyes found the Savior as she reclaimed her seat after giving a speech that acted as both a shield and a sword for him - this warrior who never took her armor off, and didn’t push him to take off his either; who didn’t ask him to change a thing, only to stand by her when she needed him more than ever. Nothing changed in anyone else’s eyes, but he felt a shift, and he thought perhaps this was the first step in that real foundation he had been thinking of the evening before.

“Why are you all fighting for him?” Killian growled. “He’s a shameless murderer.”

“So are you.” Red shrugged.

“I only kill the ones that are willing to challenge me,” he snarled.

    Gold snorted, remembering the pirate holding a sword to a desperate spinner’s throat and daring him to pick up a weapon that he didn’t know how to use. Jones was a pirate who looted and killed, like every other pirate. Judging by Emma’s expression, she shared that opinion.

“Shall we stop bickering over past actions?” The Blue Fairy spoke firmly, as though conducting children. “This is simple. Does Rumplestiltskin pose a threat that we can neutralize without casualties if he decides to plot against us in the future?” The table was silent, but a few shook their heads. “Then how certain are we that the town will be safe if he is given his freedom? And as I stated earlier, when it comes to freedom, if we give him an inch, he’ll take a mile.”

     A few more seconds of deafening stillness persisted before Regina spoke up. “Well, with that surprisingly modern phrasing and apt questioning, let’s put it to a vote. All in favor of imprisoning our resident imp?”

     Gold counted the hands twice; he hadn’t imagined it would be so close. Seven - Regina, Jones, Widow Lucas, Reul Ghorm, Grumpy, Snow, and David. Just enough to tip the scales of twelve. He watched Emma’s jaw set and her lips push together until they were white, and he knew he hadn’t gotten nothing out of this meeting. Perhaps up until this point their trust had been a matter of necessity, but now it was a choice. He trusted her - it was a small amount, but it was there.

     Regina nodded. “It’s decided, then. Now where will this imprisonment take place?”

“Hold on-” Emma scoffed. “That’s it? How long?”

     The Blue Star was quick to answer, “Forever.”

“He’ll literally be alive longer than we’ll be here to enforce that,” Red pointed out, her frustration evident.

“Actually, I am immortal as well.” Her eyes turned hard. “And I assure you, I will always be ready to enforce this sentence.”

“Why is no one afraid of her?” Emma asked mildly, though her eyes betrayed her concern.

“Because, child, I am on the side of good,” she replied sweetly.

“I have a feeling we have different definitions of good.” The sheriff squinted.

“Emma, she’s always been on our side,” David said lightly.

     Emma cocked her head like she had heard something particularly ludicrous. “I don’t think that’s strictly true.”

“ Again , may I remind everyone of who we’re here to persecute?” Regina’s gaze was hard and impatient.

“I say we put him in with the witch,” Grumpy supplied. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll off each other.”

     Gold’s breath caught, and he knew no one noticed, but he had the niggling thought that they could all hear his heartbeat begin to race. Red turned ever so slightly to give him a very discreet but very worried glance, and he remembered that a couple of them could. How inconvenient magical creatures could be.

“Or maybe they’ll plot and find a way out,” Red suggested, clearly throwing him a bone (pun intended).

“Impossible. Rumplestiltskin designed that cage to hold the most powerful of magical beings, did he not?” the Blue Star inquired.

     Regina scoffed. “Not including himself. He can use magic there.”

“We have the dagger, though,” David reminded.

“Do you really wanna take that chance?” Emma raised her eyebrows, throwing Gold a glance very similar to Red’s.

“Isolation, then,” Snow concluded. “Like the prison we had him in before the curse. That held him.”

     Gold chanced a furtive glimpse at the Savior, thankful when she elected not to mention that he had hidden a rather handy scroll in that cell and could probably do it again; as far as he knew, Snow had been a part of that grand escape, but she and her prince had always been ones to underestimate him. Oddly enough, David and Regina exchanged a look that read a definite no even before the idea was discarded.

“Sorry, sister, but I don’t think we can really build one of those here.” Grumpy recrossed his arms.

“The station,” Archie volunteered. “Why not there?”

“Yes!” Red nodded along. “Emma can keep an eye on him.”

“I can?” Emma asked, catching Red’s eye. “Of course I can.”

     Red waved like there had never been more certainty in a statement. “Of course she can.”
    Regina arched an eyebrow, skepticism coloring her voice. “Of course she can.”

“And so can I.” David nodded firmly, and somehow that was just much less encouraging.

“Well, with you both as lookouts, what could possibly go wrong?” Regina smiled with all the acid that had made her infamous once upon a time.

“I’d be happy to stop by a time or two.” Killian let the light gleam off his hook.

     Emma gave him a hard look. “And I’d be happy to file a restraining order.”

“Don’t be so hasty, love.” He gave her his most lecherous smirk and wiggled his fingers. “I’ll save the other hand for you.”

     David’s fist slammed against the table and Regina spoke over the beginnings of his fatherly anger. “The station it is, sans users of guyliner and those with conspicuous appendages that make everyone uncomfortable. Meeting adjourned; please take your various and insignificant issues outside.”

     Emma heaved a sizable sigh, wandering over to where Gold stood silently. The dagger had been removed from public view, likely tucked away safely in Regina’s pantsuit somewhere. The sheriff said nothing, just looked at the floor like she had kicked his puppy. When she led him out, it wasn’t in handcuffs or roughly pushing him forward; they walked, side by side, shoulders brushing every few steps.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

     Gold chuckled. “My dear sheriff, don’t hedge your bets against me now. Besides, that was quite the persuasive speech you gave for my benefit. You have no reason to apologize.”

“It wasn’t enough.” Emma shook her head. “It’s never enough in this town.”

“We’ll see.” He gave her that shark smile that always put her on edge, and she was half inclined to warn him away from whatever he was plotting.

     But this was his freedom they had been voting on, and that was worth plotting for, she knew. “Well then I’ll apologize for something else. In the mines. It wasn’t right of us to argue over you like we should’ve had any say in the first place.”

     Gold nodded his appreciation. “Thank you.” He shot her a teasing smirk. “You’re forgiven.”

     Before anything else could be said, Belle came jogging up to them, giving Emma not-so-subtle glances until she backed out of earshot. Almost out of earshot. “I’m sorry it’s going this way. I can see the effort you’ve been putting in. I saw some of your fight with that monster yesterday.”

     Gold felt his jaw tighten, and he made a conscious effort to relax. “I’m glad you approve.” It wasn’t acidic, but the possibility was evident. The air was charged between them, and Gold could barely wrap his mind around the shift that had occurred. Mere months ago, he was preparing to propose to the woman he loved with every available inch of his battered heart; and now, her words made him grit his teeth against the feeling of being appraised for value like one of the items in his shop. Goodbye, indeed.

“You’ve worked so hard for this, don’t give up now. There will be time for further arguments on your behalf.” When his face retained its hard expression, her voice turned pleading. “Please, Rumple. I look at you, and I see someone better . I know you can be that.”

     Gold mulled over all the thoughts his conversations with the Savior had sparked. “That’s the problem, Belle. You never just see me.”

     He nodded to Emma, and off they walked, leaving his True Love to ponder every word, just as he had once committed hers to memory.

Chapter Text

     The next few weeks were odd for everyone in town. There was a collective sigh of relief among the townspeople at Gold’s incarceration, which Emma didn’t understand, considering how he had been the only shield between Storybrooke and a lot of bad things for a long time. Then again, she supposed everyone had also learned of the repossession of his dagger and assumed he was readily on hand. The town council had decided to hold an election for… a town council, since everything had been a mish-mash reflection of the old world after the curse was broken the first time. Emma was glad to hear that the position of sheriff was not an elected position unless there were special circumstances, which she had fallen under when she had gotten the job. She had been given this helpful piece of information by Gold, who coincidentally enough was now her work-provided companion every day of the week. Her “keeping an eye on him” ended up being talking for hours when she had no more paperwork to fill out and David was on patrol. As it turned out, a bored Rumplestiltskin was quite the conversationalist, and she ended up learning many of the citizens’ stories and tales of their lamented deals with the devil.

     Everything began feeling normal soon enough, the air of the town shifting back into a state of peaceful change, one problem at a time. All the acting council members had collectively decided to announce the new order after the election had taken place. Most of the laws of the Land With No Magic would still stand - including payment of rent, which would be collected by Dove, though that had been a point of argument - but they were in the process of organizing the justice system to look more like a split between the two worlds. New laws would also need to be established regarding magic and its uses, and that was a can of worms Emma wished she didn’t have to be a part of opening. Unbeknownst to the rest of the council - because they definitely would have blown their collective fuses, in Emma’s opinion - the sheriff had been asking Gold for advice on all the recent changes and how to conduct them. He had, ironically, designed three-fourths of the new-and-improved justice system, and had been working on various magic-related laws for the past week. It was entirely her fault for giving him a pen and a writing pad, but she had to admit, he thought of things even Regina hadn’t considered. The council was beginning to wonder at her sudden brilliance concerning the judicial system, and she was becoming a little insulted at their bemusement. She was knowledgeable.

“Of course you’re knowledgeable, Emma.” Gold gave her an easy smile from behind the bars as she sat across from him on the couch, explaining the goings on as she had gotten into the habit of doing. His smiles had started coming more often, too, since he only really had her and David to interact with. When he was finished taunting her father for the day - more often than not, he drove the man to going on early and long patrols - he would let his mask of theatricality and stoicism slip a little, for her. And it helped, she was sure, that she had thought to bring him his suits to change into instead of the bright orange Regina had suggested. “It’s only that you’ve shown no interest in learning magic in the past, so why would you abruptly be so conversant?”

     She nodded along. “It’s more than that, though. I feel like - I don’t know, maybe if I wasn’t this great Savior, people wouldn’t think very much of me.”

“They elected you sheriff before they even knew magic was real. That counts, does it not?” He tilted his head, in that way that she had come to learn meant he had a multitude of counterexamples to throw at her until she agreed.

     Emma huffed. “You set that up.”

“I manipulated circumstances because I knew that you would rise to meet every challenge. You did all the work.” Gold smiled again, this one far more impish than the last. “I just happen to be very - hm - knowledgeable .”

     She rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe no one’s figured out it’s you, honestly. I mean, you’re right here. How could I not ask?”

“You’re just like your mother. That astonishing logic is how I learned your name.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Then again, you’re a lot like your father, which is probably why they’re all so confused.”

“Hey!”

     Her laughter rolled freely, which was a newer development. It was so simple, between all the fighting. The town was calm and being organized, and it didn’t matter either way, because they were inside the station. It was like being in a quiet little corner where there was no magic, no murder, no problems at all. They talked and smiled and laughed because there was nothing else to do. She always felt as though they were in his shop again, and if she didn’t leave, there would be no demons to deal with. Peace, as simple as that.

     Emma smirked. “What do you think David would say if I told him you’re my work husband?”

“Husband?” Gold looked baffled, then teasing. “I think we’ve skipped a few stages. Don’t mistake me, I’m terribly fond of you…”

     The sheriff scoffed. “It’s just an expression because of all the time we’ve been spending together, working on this monstrosity.” She motioned to the notebook resting on his pillow.

     He quirked an eyebrow. “Would that make this project our child?”

“Your brain child, maybe.”

     There was a comfortable silence, then his quiet remark, “I’m surprised you’re still here, now that things have settled.”

     She looked at him sadly, because it was so easy to forget he had nowhere to go when he talked like he was exactly where he wanted to be. “With you?”

“In Storybrooke.”

     And wasn’t that an interesting point? This conversation came with a strong dose of deja vu. “If it was just up to me, we’d have been in New York months ago. But Henry’s - he’s gotten a lot closer with Regina after…” After she proved that she could do everything Emma could do, and more.

     Gold’s words could have been teasing, but they were almost soft instead. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I saw a little bit of jealousy.”

     Emma’s breath came out in a way that seemed nearly shocked, though neither of them were. “Well, I- it’s hard not to be! I mean, the woman who stole my childhood…” She took a steadying inhale. “She raised him, so I have no right, but it’s just-” Her own harsh laugh interrupted her sentence. “not the fairytale ending I was hoping for.”

     Gold watched her for a moment, clearly understanding that it wasn’t comfort she sought. “She wasn’t the only one who stole your childhood.” Emma Swan was going to be a princess. He remembered Zelena’s words as clearly as if Belle had actually been the one to speak them, instead of glamor-hidden lips.

     Emma’s lips pursed, and he knew he had a lot to lose in this conversation. Sitting where he was, he had everything left to lose. “I was angry at you when I figured out how it all happened, because it was easy.” She looked down at her fidgeting fingers. “It was easy to hate someone I only sort of knew, for things I never thought I would be able to blame on anyone but my parents. And then you did something really selfless and I got sent off to New York with the center of my world. When Killian woke me up-” She met his eyes, and she was almost crying. “Gold, I was terrified. He was basically asking me to choose between my parents and my kid’s safety. I know they were only fake memories, but I can still remember raising Henry and teaching him all the stuff kids need to learn and everything else. My son is worth tearing a world apart for; and I would, if I thought it would help.” She smiled a watery smile. “I can’t hate you for loving someone. I can’t hate you for being an amazing parent. The kind of love you felt for Neal, and the kind of love I feel for Henry - that was all I ever wanted.”

“But I took that away from you.” Gold shook his head, remembering his conversation with not-Belle. “I’m a monster.”

“You’re a parent,” Emma corrected. “A fine-ass parent at that. And without that curse, I never would have had Henry or met Neal. I never would have become who I am.”

“I like who you are,” he said quietly, then his lips curled ever so slightly. “If I may be so bold.”

     Her lips twitched to match his. “You may.”

     There was a silence, and it wasn’t quite comfortable, but it wasn’t bad. It was cathartic, for both of them, and perhaps long overdue. It was charged with unshed tears for one reason or another, and Emma’s breathing felt a little wet and unsteady.

     Gold broke their silence, and she had a feeling that it had something to do with his own unsteady breathing and far off look. “I think you would have been a sister at a much younger age, however.”

“I’m not sure I’m a sister now.” Emma’s mouth twisted in somewhat of a grimace. “I feel more like an aunt.”

“I’m sure it doesn’t help that you’re about the same age as your parents.” Gold quirked his lips downwards in mock contemplation. “Or that your son is older than your mother’s.”

     She laughed. “Be careful what you wish for, I guess. I always wanted a family, and now I can’t keep it all straight in my head.”

“Have your parents perhaps… considered going with you to New York?” Gold rolled his shoulders lightly. “It would certainly be safer for young Mr. Nolan.”

“Huh.” Emma looked a little taken aback. “I hadn’t thought to ask. I never really imagined they would leave Storybrooke.”

“It’s difficult to see any of us as being the kind of normal you’re accustomed to, isn’t it?” He cocked his eyebrow. “Imagine the diaspora if all the townsfolk decided to try their luck in this world.”

“Even under the curse, this place was strange.” The sheriff shook her head. “Do you really think my parents would move? Do you think that would be better for Neal? For Henry?”

     Gold pursed his lips. “That’s not my decision to make. But I will say, I’ve watched Henry grow up, and aside from adventure, all he ever wanted - like you - was family. Now he has it, and he doesn’t want to lose it. Magic bothers you because it’s the unknown; for him, that’s just the adventure part.”

“And Neal?”

     He hesitated a moment, seemingly unsure of her. “Have you entertained the idea that he has magic like yours?”

     Emma’s mouth opened and closed. “I mean, I guess it would make sense. He’s born of True Love, too, right?”

“Indeed he is,” Gold agreed. “And like you, it would be best if he learned to control it.”

“Gold-”

“Emma.” He gave her a purposeful stare.

     She scoffed. “I don’t even have my magic anymore!”

“Yes - you do,” Gold prompted. “All you have to do is embrace it, and the curse Zelena bound you with will be a mere wall to break through.”

“I don’t want to have this conversation again.” Emma shook her head, and she knew she was being petulant, but she didn’t care.

     Gold wrapped his fingers around one of the bars, leaning forward. “This is important , Emma. This is a key to a lock you didn’t even know existed.”

“No keys. No locks.” She crossed her arms. “Change the subject or I’m going home.”

     He leaned back with muted disappointment on his face. “Very well. I suppose when you see it, you’ll know where I am.”

“You know, I actually had to file a restraining order to keep Hook out of here.” Emma smiled effortlessly, ignoring his words completely in favor of their smooth new dynamic.

(*&*)

     Red woke up early, careful not to wake her grandmother. The older woman’s wolf senses had made sneaking out to see Peter a difficulty for years, but she had perfected the art over time. Besides, she couldn’t help but feel that today’s secret mission was a little more important; or at least, that’s what her co-conspirator had sort of-subtly whispered at the last city hall meeting.

     Breaking Ruby’s habits had taken more than a little time - a bottle thrown in the trash can to avoid temptation here, a very conscious effort not to spend more than seven minutes on makeup there. More than breaking habits, coping with their existence in the first place had been a breath too late and a thought too long. Granny knew immediately what she was thinking about hours after the curse broke, and she was there with open arms before Red even knew she was sobbing. Virginity had been an important thing for royals, and quite the scandal when it… went missing; but for peasants, it had been far less of a focus. Nonetheless, to lose it to a man she didn’t know in the back of a bar that smelled like sweat, with the tickling notion that she had let go of it long ago and just couldn’t remember where or when - that was something Red wasn’t sure she was ever going to be entirely at peace with. She had saved herself for Peter, because she had been in love; then, she had saved herself for no one in particular because she had been in grief. It still gnawed at her thoughts every time Regina snapped at her, or made a racist - because, yes, as a magical creature, she was a different race - comment, because she was being walked all over by the woman who had taken something so personal without a second thought. She doubted Regina remembered, and she knew she would never get an apology. Red had become just another pawn that didn’t matter, just another slice of revenge for a person she had never even had a one-on-one conversation with.

     Red blinked out of her thoughts, her backpack half-packed with games and snacks. Silent musings could be saved for another time, she decided, someone was currently having a far worse day than her. So, with a final nod in the mirror to remind herself that only a really, really good person would be helping with this, she scooted out the window and jogged to where her car was parked down the block. She knew Granny wouldn’t hear her start it, so she tamped down the flare of panic that reminded her of hissed whispers and stolen kisses.

Chapter Text

     Red drove to the only place she thought matched the description of the last plotting post that almost duped the Evil Queen . As old as Henry was getting, that boyish spark of adventure and drama seemed to stay with him - that spark that had been the only near-flame in Storybrooke for a decade before he had gone and started an all out fire. And apparently, that fire had started at the castle that no longer stood tall by the water. It was strange, she reflected, walking over to where she could see him perched on a rock, that before he had even begun reading his eye-opening book, he had been mirroring his grandparents in so many ways. The Charmings did love their water side castles. Just like they loved their defiance, hope speeches, and heroics. She knew, because there had been a time she had loved all of those things too - a time when a girl stealing chicken eggs had brought her a hope that would persist through her grief.

     Red plopped down cross-legged next to the boy. “Good place to think.”

“It was.” Henry sighed, his eyes lazily following the tide. “One of the first casualties of Operation: Cobra.”

“Operation: Cobra, huh?” Red wrapped her lips around the sharp reminder that she wasn’t part of this family the way she used to be.

“Yeah, to break the curse.” Henry pursed his lips. “The first one.”

“Things have gotten a little more complicated since then,” Red observed, trying to find the balance between talking to the kid she knew and the man he was becoming.

“So much more.” He shrugged. “Mom misses when it was simpler. Less dangerous. She wants us to move back to New York.”

     Red nodded slowly. It wasn’t difficult to see why. But she asked her question softly: “And you don’t want to?”

     The boy seemed suddenly angry, and more so confused. “Our family ’s here. How could we just - leave ? After everything, after all the danger, we’re still here. Together. Like we should be.”

“She just wants to keep you safe,” Red reasoned.

     Henry snorted. “That excuse is getting old.”

“It’s not an excuse for her.” She gave him a patient look. “It’s her only goal.”

     He seemed to deflate at that. “I know. I just - I finally have everything I’ve ever wanted. Why can’t we all just be happy now?”

     Red smiled a sad smile. “Because happily ever after ’s only happen in books. The story doesn’t really end when you stop reading. After the book is closed, the lovers argue sometimes, new kings are crowned, crops fail. Things happen. You’re not living if nothing’s changing.”

“Like the curse,” Henry said.

     Red agreed, “Like the curse.”

     He paused for a moment. “I can’t go back to New York. I won’t.”

“That part’s between you and your mom. Maybe both of them.” Red heaved a sigh. “I just think maybe the cure for a hurting family is a quiet conversation.”

“Mom’s not good at those.” The boy smiled a little.

     Red let her own smile take up residence. “She’s more of an actions woman. Like her father.”

“I guess that means she and Rumplestiltskin balance each other out.”

     Red’s stunned look made Henry smile, and she was beginning to feel that he - unknowingly - took after the other side of his family just as much. Observant, quick, and strategic were certainly apt descriptions for Gold’s grandson.

     She tried to play it off. “What d’you mean?”

     He smirked like the cat who got the cream. “I don’t know what’s going on with them, but it’s definitely something. They’re always just - talking - when I come in. Since when do either of them just talk to anyone?”

“So I guess you’re not gonna be calling him ‘grandpa’ anymore?” Red teased, not bothering to dissuade his notion.

     He scrunched up his nose. “No. This family’s weird; I’m sure we’ll figure this out, too.”

     She laughed. “Well then we’re ready to commence our secret mission, right?”

“So ready.” Henry smiled, standing and dusting his jeans off. “Yet another operation, right under Mom’s nose. Regina, mom - not Emma, mom.”

(*&*)

     When they reached the station, Red noticed Emma’s little yellow car - presumably still - parked near the entrance.

     She gave Henry a teasing grin. “Best if you wait here for a minute.”

“Ew.” He scrunched his nose, but lingered at the door.

     She entered the station quietly, trailing her hand along the wall as she walked down the hallway. She stopped short with an easy grin when she rounded the corner, pushing away her opinions of Gold for a moment to admire the image of them - Gold on the end of his bed with a blissfully blank expression of sleep, Emma on the end of the couch with a small curl to her lips. She snapped a picture because he was still her landlord, and Emma still a friend. It was strange, having a minute outside of time, where life felt normal and silly and had all the problems that were to be complained about over a milkshake, not a roundtable; she thought it may have been exactly what Emma had meant during their last conversation - because those happened now - when she had described the loose energy she felt with Gold in the station.

     Deciding staring was becoming creepy, Red spoke out with a facetious smirk fast in place, “You two are adorable.”

     Gold almost didn’t move, displaying surprise only in a brief line of tension in his jaw and the purposefully slow opening of his eyes. Emma didn’t stir as he righted his posture and straightened his suit.

“I would’ve paid to see you in orange.”

     She was afraid she had crossed that delicate line between being an annoyance and a target when he let out a slow breath through his nose. “Luckily for me, this isn’t an amusement park.”

     With that olive branch tentatively accepted, she nodded to Emma and watched Gold survey the sleeping Savior. The look in his eyes was mild, but it shocked her nonetheless. He looked at her like she was worth his time, and that was already the warmest expression she had ever seen on him. After the conversation in the tunnels, Red got the sense that the feeling was mutual. An odd pairing, she thought, but an even one all the same.

“Emma, your father’s here.”

     As the sheriff’s eyes shot wide, Red couldn’t help but imagine a wicked grin on a sparkly, scaled face; she couldn’t tell whether she wanted to cringe or laugh.

“Merely jesting, my dear.” Gold’s smirk was much smaller than the one in Red’s imagination, but still enough to elicit a tired glare from the Savior.

     Deciding that fixating, however well-deserved her confusion may have been, was not going to make sense of things anytime soon, Red turned to yell down the hall. “No horizontal cell block tangos in here!”

“I need to stop sleeping here.” Emma’s hands went through her tangle of hair, and it was Gold’s turn to glare.

     Both gazes, however, were quickly stolen by Henry’s entrance. The sheriff reflected a calm delight, and while Red wasn’t particularly familiar with Gold having emotions, she guessed this one was a mix of surprise and pleasure. He held his tongue, his eyes seeming to wander anywhere but his grandson’s face, and the waitress felt as though she was intruding on a host of wasted opportunities. Emma sensed it as well, apparently, because she was up and awake in a moment, ushering Red into her office.

“Nice to see you, kid. I need a quick talk with Ru- Red, yeah? Cool.”

     Her single-breath sentence fooled no one, but away from the real-world feeling of every other place in town, no animosity was summoned at the clear manipulation. The door shut a little too forcefully, and Red caught a glimpse of Henry shuffling his feet awkwardly before Emma snapped the blinds closed; but muffled conversation bounced off the door after a few seconds, and the sheriff’s expression relaxed.

“Really getting a hang of this family thing, aren’t you?” Red let her smile ease into place, familiar now that the woman across from her was a friend, not a baby she remembered missing the birth of.

“It was easier when stuff like this wasn’t a problem.” Emma’s lips quirked at the same time her eyes sparkled, her words sounding almost blissful. “But Gold was right. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” She pulled the blinds down just enough to see Henry sitting on the couch Emma had vacated, Gold’s full attention and posture trained on the boy. “My wacky little pretzel family.”

“You’ve been sounding a lot calmer about things lately.” Red leaned back on the desk, sitting on her hands.

     Emma mirrored her demeanor, letting her back fall against the door jamb. “The world’s been giving me a minute to catch up.”

“A rare event if ever there was one,” the waitress teased. “And what’s changed in this minute?”

     The sheriff rolled her eyes at some unspoken thought. “Not enough for everyone else, I’m guessing.” She cut Red’s protest off with a lazy wave. “But maybe enough for me. Zelena’s a danger - Henry and I are still leaving. But I have to get Gold’s dagger first. One last Not So Bad Ending before we go back to the normal stuff, right?”

     Red nodded. “I get it, I do. I don’t want you to go, and neither does Henry, but you’re the mom. Don’t tell Granny I said this, but - mothers know best.”

“Red Riding Hood and Mother Gothel, huh?” Emma’s eyebrow bounced at the same time Red’s furrowed. “Nevermind. Three decades without Disney movies really puts you in the Twilight Zone.”

“You say a lot of funny words.” Red smiled. 

     It was easy to forget that no matter what was shared, there were two separate lifetimes of learnings and memories that faced each other. More than just two, actually, Red thought as laughter filtered in from the main station. Emma’s quiet smile at the sound was the bridge that held everything together, though. Her belief and willingness to stay had saved this town, and Red couldn’t help but wonder if her absence would destroy it again. That, however, was too much pressure for one person, so Red sealed her lips and watched Emma’s thoughts swirl behind her eyes.

“So… godmother, you said?”

     The final culmination of the sheriff’s ponderings caught the waitress off guard. “Yeah, before the queen thing. Kingdoms take a lot of focus, you know?”

“Yeah.” Emma entered a staring match with the floor, her mouth twisted in discomfort. “That wasn’t all you said.” Red reached to apologize, but the Savior continued, “The way you described her… am I like she was? Before ‘the queen thing’?”

     Red settled back against the desk, taking a second to read her friend. “A bit. In the important ways, I suppose. For all the reasons we got along so well.” And there - right where her eyes had gleamed a few minutes prior, was the insecurity that differentiated Emma from her mother. Not a missing piece, but perhaps a few pieces too many.

“I’m not her. Not by a long shot.”

     Straight to the point, bypassing diplomacy altogether - another important distinction between the two. Red watched defensiveness overtake insecurity, that always-ready-for-a-fight look that reminded the town Emma hadn’t lived a fairytale.

“Good. I’m not looking to be friends with Snow two-point-oh.”

     The sheriff’s posture shed its tension like a layer of loose - well, snow. And there was the smile that reminded the town Emma had never wanted one. Just a family. And now she had one, complicated as it may have been.