Chapter Text
___
Emma's day so far: woke from a coma, discovered fairy tale characters are real, fought a dragon, and broke a 28-year-long curse.
Now she is standing on the street, watching the residents of Storybrooke embrace each other. Some are laughing with joy, others skipping in the streets. Emma spots Mary-Margaret and David outside of Granny’s Diner and walks cautiously towards them. They haven’t seen her yet, too busy embracing Ruby, Granny, Leroy, and his brothers. Her heart is hammering against her bruised ribcage. Her sides hurt. Her head is throbbing. She'd tried to take Henry out of Storybrooke, and paid for it when the car spun off the road and into a ditch.
"So it's true," she says tentatively as she comes up behind David and Mary-Margaret.
They stare at her. Her friends - her parents - are staring at her with a look it takes her a minute to recognise. Full of love. Emma doesn't know how to take it. These are her parents, the people she has longed for her whole life. They're the same age as her, they're fairy-tale heroes, but they are her parents.
Mary-Margaret cups Emma’s face in her hands and looks at her so adoringly, the exact way Emma had always wanted her mother to look at her. "You found us," she says.
Emma can't help but startle a little when she hugs her. David reaches for them, sliding his hand into Emma’s hair, and embraces them both.
It's quite possibly the most awkward experience of Emma’s life. There's so much about this that she doesn't know how to process. Take away the fact that her parents are fairy tale characters, take away that they're the same age as her, take away that she has been talking to them for months without knowing they are her parents - and there is still the big gaping wound in her heart, created by lifetime of being alone. Mostly, she's just confused.
And, of course, Mary-Margaret holds her a little too tight in the exact wrong spot and Emma hisses with pain, easing out of their grip.
"Emma?" Mary-Margaret stares at her with alarm.
"My ribs are broken. It's fine. Don't worry about it."
David's jaw drops. "What?!"
Mary-Margaret rattles out her worry. "What do you mean 'broken?' What happened? Who did this? Emma!"
Emma explains, haltingly, about trying to leave Storybrooke, about the car accident, and the coma. She leaves out the part about Gold keeping her hidden like a hostage - as a hostage - and how he'd been ready to throw her to a literal dragon the second she woke up, all for the sake of breaking the curse and to save someone he'd cared about. A part of her wonders who that is.
But if she's being honest, she'd rather just punch the son of a bitch in the face than talk about it anymore.
___
Next up: An angry mob tries to kill Regina, because she's the Evil Queen responsible for cursing the town apparently, and apparently she has no magic so Emma has to step in and arrest her before the town rips her to pieces. After, Mary-Margaret and David come with her to see Gold.
When they reach Gold's shop, he's folding old clothes into a suitcase. For reasons he won't say, he has brought magic to Storybrooke. Before Emma can give him the punch he deserves, the panic in the streets rises to a crescendo; a car skids into a fire hydrant outside of the shop, and Emma goes to mediate the resulting argument.
By the late afternoon, the chaos has calmed a little. Most of the townspeople gather at Granny’s Diner, where Ruby and Granny are serving cakes, cookies, and drinks free of charge. An orderly queue of people leads to a table, where Mother Superior sits, offering words of wisdom and comfort as people write names of loved ones they can’t find. Archie is handing out a sign-up sheet for free counselling sessions. On the bulletin board, Marco hangs a drawing of a little boy.
Emma, David, and Mary-Margaret field any questions about the curse – and why they’re still in Storybrooke – though they have few answers. Emma is grateful that David and Mary-Margaret are with her, though listening to them talk about the ‘other world’ this and ‘enchanted forest’ that makes her head spin. There is a rattling in her temples and her ribs are sore. She pushes her fingers into the soft flesh by her eyes and sits down on the sidewalk.
Mary-Margaret crouches next to her. "Maybe you should go home. David and I can handle this."
Emma grits her teeth. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not," replies Mary-Margaret. "You need to rest.”
“Resting isn’t really what I do.”
“You’ve been in a serious accident," says David. "Go back to Snow’s and get some sleep.”
She agrees, though for her own reasons. As much as David and Mary-Margaret have assured her that they won’t push her to talk, she can see in their expressions that this is all they want. Especially Mary-Margaret.
And Emma…just can’t.
Her Mom and Dad are Snow White and Prince Charming. She is the product of True Love, a Savior, a prophesy. This morning she'd fought a dragon. A few hours before that, she had been in a medically-induced coma. If she couldn't feel her cracked ribs, she would have written all this off as a crazy dream.
She takes a slow, careful walk, as delicate as a baby swan. This only makes her seethe. She feels weak and useless. As she walks around the street corner, she passes the entrance to Granny’s Bed and Breakfast. Seeing it makes her think of August. Where is he now? She hasn't seen him yet. She hasn't seen him since the night she tried to leave Storybrooke.
All along, he’d tried to convince her of all this. He'd told her he was Pinocchio. She'd thought he was crazy.
Jokes on her, huh.
He has helped her so many times. She hopes he is still as forthcoming because she could really do with a pep talk right about now.
She goes into the inn, grabs the key from behind the counter, and heads upstairs to August’s room. She knocks. No answer. She unlocks the door and goes inside. The bed is neatly made. The desk and closet is clear. All of August’s belongings are gone. She remembers how desperate he'd been when she'd last saw him. He'd begged her to believe him, to save him. That kind of desperation only comes from someone who has no other options.
Where is he now?
Returning to the ground floor, Emma checks behind the reception desk and finds Granny’s book of check-ins. Given how few people stay, it’s easy to find August’s name and check out date. He’d checked out five days before their last conversation.
Three months ago.
It’s only then she takes in how long her coma was.
___
When Emma goes to the hospital later that afternoon, it's not to get a check up. Whale insists on giving her one anyway.
"Any headaches?" he asks.
"Yeah," she says impatiently. "Dealing with one right now." She gives him a pointed glare.
Gold had Whale "take care" of her and Henry during their comas, but Whale hadn't said a damn word to anyone about where Emma was, or even gotten them to an actual hospital. Instead he let Gold keep them in a bunker, like something out of a spy movie.
Whale tries to apologise. “If I had known who I was working for…” he begins.
Emma is over the excuses. “Don't bullshit me. You knew he was a crook even when you were cursed.”
Whale shrugs. “I still gave you both the best care you could get.”
"Why didn't you tell anyone? What does he have over you?"
"Nothing that matters now," replies Whale, shining a light in her eyes. "That life is no longer important to me. But... even while cursed I think a part of me knew that I prefer working in the shadows."
Emma didn't nearly have the extensive knowledge of fairy-tale characters that Henry did. "So what's your real name?"
"Victor."
"Victor Whale?"
"Sure." He lowers the light. "Let's go with that for now."
Another reason not to buy his bullshit.
They go through a list of symptoms. He asks her to lift her shirt so he can inspect the purple and green bruises on her stomach. He asks if she's having any memory issues. She knows who everyone is, she knows her life, her friends, but there is this sense of...displacement. Like the impact of the car rolling over in the ditch shook something important out of her head.
"That's normal, dare I say, a healthy sign." Whale picks up a chart, flicking through it. "Nothing I can do about the ribs. Just rest and let it heal, if you can."
"Great. Can I see my kid now?"
Whale takes her to the room where Henry is. Henry is awake and sat up in bed with the Once Upon A Time story book open on his lap. He smiles when he sees her. There's a cut by his left eyebrow which is being held closed by stitches. True love's kiss might have broken the curse, but it was pretty useless for healing Henry's wounds. He still needs to recover. Now that he’d been moved from Gold’s bunker to the hospital, he’s under observation by Doctor Whale and a few of the nurses.
Emma doesn't think she will regret anything more than trying to take Henry with her that night.
“Hey, kid.” she says softly, coming to sit on the bed by his knee. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay,” he answers quickly. “What’s going on out there? You broke the curse, right? Does everyone have their memories back?”
“Yeah the curse is broken which means things are a little crazy right now. I had to save Regina from a mob today.”
Henry looks concerned. “Is she okay?”
“I arrested her. She can't hurt anyone, and no one can hurt her.”
Henry chews on his lip. “I know that she’s the Evil Queen, and – and I don’t like what she did but… She's my Mom. I hated her for so long, but I don't want anything bad to happen to her. It’s confusing.”
“Yeah. I know.” Emma brushes a couple of tufts of his hair behind his ears. It’s longer. “I wanted to talk to you about the accident. I'm sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to take you away from Storybrooke. It wasn’t fair of me to do that to you.”
“It’s okay. Things are going to get better now, right? You have your parents. I have you.”
Emma wishes it could be that simple. One thing she knows for sure is that she has Henry, and she is never going to let anything bad happen to him again. “Yeah. You have me.” She leans over to give him a careful hug.
He wrinkles his nose. “You’re all sweaty.”
“Yeah. Well. I walked here. Pretty sure my car is in a ditch somewhere.” She says this lightly but when she looks at Henry’s face, his lip his wobbling. “Hey. Hey, it’s okay.”
He must feel awful. He grabbed the steering wheel trying to stop her from 'abandoning everyone' and sent the car careening into the ditch. She didn't blame him for a second. He'd been scared and desperate and he acted without thinking. It had been her who had tried to run, like she always did when she was afraid. She should have stayed.
She smooths his hair with her hand. “Just promise me you won’t ever do that again. You could have been killed.”
He dries his eyes. “I promise.”
She kisses his forehead.
“Hey, Emma? You won’t let anyone hurt my mom, right?”
“Of course I won’t.”
Emma wishes she could stay with Henry overnight, but even in a fairy-tale town visiting hours apply. In any case, she's can hardly keep her eyes open and it’s a long walk back to Mary-Margaret’s. “I’m going to head off, okay? I’ll visit you tomorrow.”
“Okay.” As she’s leaving, Henry calls out. “Emma?”
“Yeah, Henry?”
"I'm really sorry about your car."
She puts on her most convincing smile. "It's just a car."
___
The next day, Leroy and his brothers help pull the beetle out of the ditch. It’s, putting it mildly, a total wreck. Emma fiddles with the key chain around her neck and winces as the yellow hunk of metal is hoisted onto the road. Insurance will write it off for sure.
She doesn't want that. It's one of the few things she has from Neal, a reminder to never let anyone else hurt her the way he had, and a reminder that no matter what happens, she can sit comfortably in her pain.
With little hope in her heart, she drops it off at the garage. Billy says it’ll take a while, but he’ll fix it for free because she broke the curse and all.
He’s a nice guy. He used to be a mouse or something.
___
Everything is remarkably peaceful for a while.
Blame the bump on her head, but Emma starts talking to Regina instead of ignoring her. At first, Regina offers nothing but snide, sarcastic comments and biting words - which, if Emma’s being honest, she kind of enjoys. So she keeps pushing, and she actually thinks she's getting somewhere, chipping away at Regina's cool exterior. It's that cool exterior that reminds Emma of herself.
Henry is released from the hospital. He moves in with his grandparents and occasionally visits Regina in her cell. At first they were a lot of arguments between them, but being in a cell seems to have mellowed Regina out. She doesn’t snap back when Henry tells her about all the things she did that hurt him.
Leroy and his brothers go down to the town border, where a red painted line marks where Storybrooke meets the rest of the world. They take it in turns hopping back and forth over the town line and report back their lack of findings. The curse is broken. Storybrooke isn’t a prison anymore.
Some people leave, but a lot of them don't. A lot of them are still looking for each other.
One day, while on patrol, Emma notices a man hovering next to a telegraph pole, watching a group of school kids get off a bus. She nearly pulls her gun when she sees it’s Jefferson. Cursed or not, Jefferson kidnapped her. She puts her hand on her holster and watches. When the last few girls get off the bus and the bus drives away, Jefferson steps out from behind the pole. “Grace!” he calls.
A schoolgirl stops mid-step. Jefferson is completely still as Grace turns. Even from across the street Emma can see how nervous he is.
“Papa!” Grace runs to him. He crouches to take her into his arms. His face is red with tears. “You found me. I knew you would!”
Emma removes her hand from her gun.
When she goes home to Mary-Margaret’s that evening, she tells them that she's ready to talk. It doesn’t go perfectly, but Emma sleeps a little easier that night.
___
Not all reunions are peaceful. Unsurprisingly there’s bad blood between some of these fairy tale characters, though what is surprising is that not all of it is directed at Regina. Emma is walking through town towards the Maine Garage to pick up her car.
Just as she passes a flower shop, the shop bell chimes a warning and the shop door swings open. A woman in a blue poker dot dress stumbles backwards out of the flower shop. “I’m not a child!”
An older man follows her out. Emma recognises him as the owner, Moe. “You don’t understand what that man will do to you, what he’s already done!”
The younger woman stands square-shouldered. “No, you don’t understand. It’s my life.”
Moe grabs her arm. “I can’t allow this! You’re coming home with me.”
“Let go of me!”
Emma's had enough. She goes up to them. “Hey! Is there a problem here?”
Moe glares at her. “This isn’t your concern.”
Emma levels him with a glare of her own. “I’m the sheriff. That makes it my concern. Unless you want to spend a night in a cell for disorderly conduct, I suggest you let her go.”
Reluctantly, Moe lets go. The woman pulls sharply away and, hugging her arms, walks away. Emma follows. There are tears in the woman’s eyes. She blinks them back and puts on a polite smile. “Thank you.”
“No problem. You know that guy?”
“He’s my father.”
“Oh shit.”
“He doesn’t approve of the man I’m in love with.”
Emma hefts her eyebrows. “Well, screw him. He doesn’t get an opinion on who you want to be with.”
“I tried telling him that. I understand his concerns but…”
“But nothing. You can make your own choices.”
The woman laughs. “Thank you. I’m Belle, by the way.”
“Emma,” she replies, surprised when Belle doesn’t react like she’s talking to the town hero. It’s a welcome change, though it does raise questions. “Crazy world right now, huh. How are you dealing with all this?”
“I’m just trying to take it day by day.” She laughs helplessly. “It’s actually rather more difficult than I thought it would be. I’ve been…isolated for a while. Everything is so new and different. It’s nothing like what I had back home.”
Emma hums. “Well, in my experience, whenever you’re intimidated it’s better to take the plunge.” She shrugs. “And if it doesn’t go as well as you liked, grab yourself a hot cocoa with cinnamon.”
“A what with cinnamon?”
The corner of Emma’s mouth rises. “Head over to Granny’s Diner and ask for one. It’ll be worth it.”
___
Speaking of hot cocoa with cinnamon, Emma starts a daily habit of bringing Regina hot drinks, as well as the occasional cake.
“So,” Regina drawls as she takes the coffee Emma offers her, her smile only vaguely sardonic. “What’s going on out there? Seems quiet. I thought there would be parties through the street by now. Must be nice having all the members of the fairy tale guild singing your praises.”
“If there were any singing or parties, I’m glad I missed them.”
“Not enjoying your fame?”
“Not even a little bit.” She sips her hot cocoa and settles onto the couch by the cell, regarding Regina. While they're far from friends, over the last month or so they've developed a strange camaraderie, like Clarice and Hannibal Lector. If Regina sticks to her vow of ‘no magic’ and ‘no evil’ then maybe Emma could trust her outside of the cell. Or maybe not. She hasn't quite decided.
"Oh look." Regina glances over her shoulder and rolls her eyes so hard her pupils disappear for a second. “Here comes one of your fans now.”
Emma turns.
She's surprised to see Marco. He's wide-eyed and a little pale, and Mary-Margaret is with him, holding his arm. Behind them is Henry, looking happy as always. He bounds over Emma and Regina.
“Hi, Moms. We found Marco outside. He’s in a bad way.”
“It’s okay,” Mary-Margaret is whispering to Marco. To Emma, she says, “I was coming to drop off Henry and he was on the doorstep. I think he’s been there for a while.”
"I didn’t want to bother you. I know you are very busy," stammers Marco. He takes off his hat and squeezes it in both hands. Emma doesn't think she's ever seen him so nervous. “It’s my boy. I’ve looked for him everywhere and it's been weeks since you broke the curse. I thought he’d turn up by now but..." He shakes his head. "I know I should have come sooner…”
“It’s alright. I'll do what I can to find him.” Emma interrupts carefully. “What can you tell me about him?”
“His name is Pinocchio.”
“Pinocchio?” Henry says excitedly.
Emma feels her stomach flip over. She knows exactly who Pinocchio is. "August."
“August is Pinocchio?” Henry is grinning ear-to-ear. “Of course! I can't believe I didn't put it together sooner. That’s why he wanted to help me with Operation Cobra." He looks up at Emma with pride. "He came to Storybrooke to help you believe, Emma. Because if you believe in something hard enough, then…”
“…then it’ll come true,” finishes Marco. He presses his thumbs into his hat. “I used to tell him that.”
“See?” Mary-Margaret tells Marco, “I told you it would be alright.”
Marco doesn’t look reassured by this information. He stares, unfocused, at neither of them. "August… is Pinocchio. But that can’t be. August is Mr. Gold's son."
Emma’s eyebrows shoot up. "I'm sorry, what?"
“He’s Mr. Gold’s son. I was certain of it.”
"Could he have false memories like the rest of us?" Mary-Margaret asks.
"No, he knew who he was," replies Emma, feeling her pulse speed up. "He tried to convince me he was Pinocchio. And that was before the curse broke. He told me this whole story about him and me coming through a portal here together through some tree.”
Marco closes his mouth so quickly his jaw clicks.
“Excuse me?” Regina says, sounded outraged.
Mary-Margaret is shaking her head. "But that simply isn't true! You couldn't come with anyone. There wasn’t enough magic to transport two people. If someone else could have gone through that wardrobe, then I would have come with you, I promise you that."
"Mary-Margaret, it's fine." Emma puts her hands on her hips, averting her gaze away from the desperation in Mary-Margaret's face. She doesn't know how to reassure her; she really just wants to focus on August now.
"It's not fine," protests Mary-Margaret. "Emma, believe me, I wouldn't have left you alone if..."
"Mary-Margaret, please. Not now." Mary-Margaret looks hurt, and Emma can't help but feel awful. “Listen, I – we’ll talk about it later, I promise, but I really need to think about finding August."
How long had he been missing? Could it be that no one had seen him since he checked out of Granny's? She was such a selfish idiot. She should have tried to find him herself.
Marco had slowly sank onto the couch and cupped his hands over his mouth. He’s trembling, tears in his eyes. “That poor passerotto.” He rocks back and forth. "My poor boy.”
“Right,” Mary-Margaret says awkwardly. “I’ll go make some coffee.”
“Who the hell is August?” demands Regina.
“August Booth. Leather jacket. Rides a motorbike,” Emma rattles off.
“Ah. Your stalker.”
“My friend."
Regina makes a face, as if the prospect of Emma having friends is doubtful.
Emma ushers Henry out of the way and sits down next to Marco. “Henry, could you help Mary-Margaret please?” Henry opens his mouth to protest, but Emma gives him a stern look. “That wasn’t optional. Come on, kid, she's your grandmother.”
“Okay,” grumbles Henry, trailing after Mary-Margaret.
“I suppose I’ll stay right where I am,” Regina says sarcastically.
Ignoring her, Emma focuses on Marco. Or Geppetto. Screw it, Marco is what she’s used to. She looks at him and says in a gentle voice. "So, Mr. Gold's son, huh? What makes you say that?"
Thinking about it, she might have seen August and Gold together, but her memory is hazy from the car accident.
"Well, he came to me and told me that his father and he were on poor terms. And Mother Superior - the Blue Fairy, I mean - she told me that Gold was interested in August, that he’d asked about him."
Emma raises an eyebrow. "And you just assumed Mr. Gold was his dad?"
"And Archie. He thought so too!" Marco flushes, thumbing the brim of his hat.
Emma immediately feels like a bitch. It isn’t like she is in her right frame of mind right now either, and she wasn't the one who was cursed. There was probably a good reason for the mix up. She holds up a hand as Marco opens his mouth to say more. "No, it's okay. I get it. You were cursed. You had no reason to think different."
Suddenly, Regina starts to chuckle. Her brown hair swishes side to side as she shakes her head.
Emma glares because, really, now is not the time. "Something funny?"
"Gold."
Emma's eyes narrow.
"He told me he 'acquired' a son. August is probably chained up in a basement somewhere."
“You knew about this?” In a second, Marco is on his feet and gripping the bars in his hands, his hat fallen to the floor. “What do you know? What has Mr. Gold done to my boy?”
Emma stands and takes hold of Marco’s elbow. “Okay, okay.”
Regina snorts. "How would I know? That man's motivations are beyond anyone’s understanding."
"What else did he tell you?" asks Emma.
"That was all. That he had acquired a son. I was too busy worrying about my own son's abduction to think about his."
"He is not his,” Marco snaps.
Regina sneers. “That’s funny. I’m usually having this argument with Miss Swan.”
Emma bites back a sigh. She thought they were past this. "Okay. Enough.” She tugs on Marco’s arm until he turns to look at her. “Marco don't worry. Finding people is what I do. Trust me. I will find your son and bring him back to you."
Suddenly Regina stops the jeering. “Emma.” Her voice is serious, very close to concerned. “If, for whatever crazy reason, Gold has decided that August belongs to him, you will not be getting him back without a fight.” She folds her arms, “As an adoptive parent myself, I know exactly what kind of extremes he’d be willing to go to.”
Emma rolls her eyes. “Oh come on! This is a totally different situation.”
Regina’s lip curls. “No. No, I don’t think it is.”
___
Reminding Marco of Gold’s new magic powers is the only way Emma is able to convince him not to storm Gold’s shop.
Emma, on the other hand, does not give a damn. She parades right in. Gold is emerging from the back of the shop with some folded shirts in his arms and looks at her with a wrinkled brow. “Miss Swan, what can I…”
"Where's August?"
Gold pauses. He's convincing when he pretends to be surprised. "Mr. Booth? What makes you think I’d know where he is?”
“Because until the curse broke, at least three people in this town were convinced he’s your son, and given that you two were the only ones who had your memories, it all seems too coincidental.”
“Sounds like hearsay to me.”
There’s a suitcase on the counter and Gold drops the folded clothes into it. Emma notes that this is the second time she's seen Gold seemingly packing, yet he hasn't taken the opportunity to leave town.
“The curse has resulted in a lot of confusion,” Gold replies. “Two lives, two sets of memories. I can’t be blamed for any misunderstandings.”
“So you didn’t tell Regina that you’d acquired a son? ‘Cause I haven’t seen any new kids running around Storybrooke and now August is missing. And don’t think I don’t remember you asking me about him at Mary-Margaret's party. You and he are caught up in something. Is he your new ‘son’? Because if you kidnapped him all so you could play some twisted little game…”
“Kidnapping implies force. An old man like me against a strapping young man like August? Really, what kind of fantasy is that?”
"An old man with magical powers." Emma braces her hands on the counter and leans a little closer. “Cut the bullshit. What did you do to him?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
“But you know where he is.”
Gold quirks his lip.
He knows. Of course he knows. But, as always, there's a cost to the information. Emma sighs. “What do you want?”
“A favor.”
“Name it.”
“Not yet.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t get anything until I know August is alright. I want to talk to him.”
The moment she finishes speaking, she knows she’s made a mistake. Gold looks too pleased. He picks up the telephone on the counter and dials a number. He's still smirking when the call connects. “Hello. Could you put August on the phone for me? Thank you.” He holds out the receiver to her. “Now you can talk to him.”
Huffing with annoyance, Emma snatches the phone. “August?”
“...Hey, Emma,” says August.
His voice is a relief to hear. Emma doesn't let herself show it. “Where are you? Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. It’s complicated.”
“Tell me where you are.”
“I… I don’t want to.”
“August…” Or is it him? It sounds like him, but that doesn’t mean anything in this town. After all that time he spent following her, it’s hard to believe that he suddenly doesn’t want to see her. She casts a suspicious glance at Gold. “Is this really you I’m talking to right now?”
Gold wrinkles his brow in amusement.
“Yes,” August breathes, “Yes, Emma, of course it’s me. How could you even ask that?”
She turns her back on Gold. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe because I fought a dragon, found out my parents are fairy-tale heroes, and have the Evil Queen locked up."
"You've been busy."
He sounds proud of her.
It makes her feel a little lighter. She feels a twitch of a smile. “I feel like I’m losing my mind over here. Tell me something only you and I would know.”
It’s a moment before August speaks again.
“The last time you and I saw each other, I took you to the diner you were left at as a baby. I told you I was the seven-year-old boy who found you…” He inhales deeply. “There was one thing I didn’t tell you that night. When you were a kid, you ran away from a group home.”
Emma’s heart starts to pound.
“You were homeless for a few days. One night, you were burning pages from a book of fairy tales.”
No. No, it can’t be… She blinks back tears.
“…and a boy came up to you and told you to stop. This boy told you that the story of The Ugly Duckling was about a duck who believed he could become a swan so hard that it actually happened. And then that boy took you by the hand – your cold, tiny hand – and he walked with you to the police station.”
“That was you?”
“Yeah, Emma, that was me.”
She owed that boy her life. She’d always believed that she’d never see him again, but it had been August all along. She blinks furiously when a tear falls onto her cheek. “Where are you? I need to see you.”
“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, “I know I promised I would be there for you and I keep failing but…”
“I don’t care about that. I just want to know you’re safe.”
“I am safe.”
“Then why can’t I see you?”
“I don’t want you to see me.” He says this kindly, but it hits hard like a punch in the lungs.
She changes tactics. “Your dad asked me to find you. He misses you.”
“I miss him too. Can you tell him that for me? Tell him that I love him. And that I’m sorry.”
Heart pounding, Emma has to take a moment to compose herself before she speaks again. “Tell him yourself.”
“I’m scaring you, aren’t I? I don’t mean to. I’m not in trouble. I’m not lying about not being in trouble, either. Believe me, lying has become… difficult lately. I’m safe. I’m being taken care of. I’m not going to go anywhere. I’ll talk to you again, Emma Swan.”
Whether August is in trouble or not, this is a goodbye. Emma feels her heart harden, putting up walls to keep itself safe.
“I know I’ve disappeared before,” August says, as if sensing this, “but I’ve always checked up on you. Ever since you were little, I’ve checked up on you. Even when you didn’t know it was me. I will talk to you again.”
Emma swallows. “Prove it.”
There’s a silence on the other end of the line. And then a soft sigh that’s almost a laugh. “Okay. Put Mr. Gold on the phone.”
Trying to cool her expression, she holds the phone out to Gold, who takes it and presses it to his ear.
“Are you sure?” Gold says after a moment, unexpected softness in his tone. August says more that Emma can’t make out. “Alright. Speak to you soon.” He puts the phone down. Meets Emma’s eyes. He looks exacerbated. “Miss Swan, how would you like to come around to my residence this evening for dinner? Alone, if you don’t mind. I'd like to discuss the terms of our agreement.”
___
When Emma knocks on the door to the Gold residence that evening, the last person she expects to answer is Belle.
“Belle.” Emma blurts, openly gawking.
Belle smiles. She looks delighted to see her. “Hi! Come in.”
Gold steps close to Belle as Emma enters the house. They don't touch, but the intimacy in their stance is unmistakable.
“This is the guy you’re in love with,” says Emma.
Suddenly Moe’s anger makes sense.
There’s a twinkle of pride in Gold’s eyes when Belle flushes and says proudly, “Well, yes!”
Seriously? Gold? thinks Emma. Isn’t there, like, a thousand-year age gap?
“Come along, Miss Swan,” says Gold. Emma keeps her eyes on him as she walks past, watching him close the door, and turn back to him. “As always, your timing is impeccable. Dinner is almost ready.”
“Lucky you didn’t have to wait for me to wake from a coma to get me here this time.”
Belle purses her lips. “I’m, um, going to check on…” she gestures offhandedly towards the kitchen before fleeing the scene. She emerges a few minutes later, when Emma and Gold have found their way to the table without breaking eye contact. She’s wearing yellow oven mitts and carrying a steaming dish of pot roast. She spoons meat and gravy onto the plates and hands them out. “So, um, Emma.” She begins haltingly. “What’s it like being a sheriff?”
“I’m never bored.”
“Sounds exciting.” She smiles when Gold pulls out her chair for her and she smooths her hand through his hair before she sits down.
Emma pulls in her cheeks a little. She isn't sure what to make of this whole situation. Granted, Emma doesn’t know Belle that well, but from what she’s seen, Belle is a ball of sunshine and kindness. She seemed like the kind of girl who would never do a bad thing in her life, a bit naïve. Gold is the exact opposite, though his usual regal nature seems a touch softer with Belle nearby.
Emma ignores the food. “Let’s cut the crap. Why am I here?”
“My, where are your manners?” Gold sneers.
“Rumple,” Belle scolds softly.
Rumple? Emma nearly wheezes.
Gold sighs. “That favor you owe me. I need to find someone, so we’re leaving tomorrow. When you go home tonight, pack your bag. We leave in the morning.”
“Wait. Find someone? Who?”
“My son.”
“Your actual son, you mean,” Emma quips.
Belle’s jaw drops. It takes Emma a second to realise that she’s offended on Gold’s behalf. Belle can't possibly think that August is Gold's son as well. How many people is that?
“My firstborn,” responds Gold carefully.
God save her from cryptic sons of bitches!
“Fine,” Emma mutters. “What does this have to do with August?”
From the dining room entrance, Emma hears a scuff of feet. She looks over her shoulder and gasps. In the archway, a mannequin shifts nervously. Emma startles when she sees it, and startles again when she realises that even though it has painted eyes, it is absolutely staring back at her. Her jaw drops when she puts together who it is.
“August!"
Though wood grain patterns his face with lines and squirls, it's August's face for sure. Emma pushes back her chair, rising, and August moves an inch into the light of the dining room before he changes his mind and dips back into the dim hallway.
“Emma…” he starts, his carved mouth making the word look odd.
“What happened to you?” She stops halfway and turns sharply to Gold. “What did you do to him?”
Gold takes a sip of his drink.
“It wasn’t him.” August says and when Emma looks back at him, he smiles ruefully. “I did this to myself.”
"No offense, but I find that hard to believe."
Yet, there was no shame in his words. But as far as Emma can tell, he’s wearing his shame instead; he’s wearing gloves and socks and long-sleeves, covering every inch of him he can. Emma takes another step towards him, and he takes a step back, angling his head in the direction of the stairs.
“Let’s talk,” he says. “I promised, after all.”
She follows him upstairs into a small bedroom. The bed sheets are rumpled, slept in. August’s typewriter is settled on the desk.
“You live here.”
It comes out as an accusation.
He crooks a smile. “You were always quick.”
“Not quick enough.”
It doesn't make sense, even as she watches August shift his leather jacket from the bed to the back of the chair. He'd slung the jacket on the bed because no one was looking, because this is his room, in the house that he lives in. As he sits, the mattress creaks under him. He invites her to sit next to him with a gesture, but she declines.
She holds out her hand. "Come on. Let's get out of here.”
“And go where?”
"To your dad."
"How is he?" His voice cracks, "My papa?"
"He's worried about you."
Panic enters his expression. "I can't let him see me like this. It'll break his heart."
"So you're going to stay here with Gold?”
August opens and closes his mouth. His jaw creaks like an unoiled hinge.
"August,” Emma kneels down like she would with Henry. “He kept me and Henry away from the hospital after our car accident because he didn’t want anyone else to get to me. He brought magic to town and won’t tell anyone why."
August stares at her. “You were in a car accident?”
“I never made it out of Storybrooke. After what you said, I tried. I wanted to. I got Henry and we were on the road going out of town and he realised what I was doing and...” She feels her heart begin to pound and a sickness shudder through her nerves. She folds her arms to hold it at bay. “We went into the ditch. I was sedated, both of us. Gold kept us. I take it you didn't know.”
August looks horrified. "No. Emma, I swear I didn't know!"
“It’s okay. I figured you didn’t.”
“But it might have been my fault.” August averts his gaze. “Mr. Gold went after you because of me.”
Emma's blood runs cold. “…what?”
“Because of…” He gestures to himself. “…this. I was turning to wood. If the curse remained unbroken, I would have died. Mr. Gold used you to save me. He used you to break the curse.”
Emma stares at him. When Gold had dragged her into fighting a goddamn dragon, he had told her that the life of someone he cared about was at stake. Someone who was like a son. Does that mean that Gold honestly thinks of August that way or is he keeping him for the same reason he had Emma, as something to use to his advantage later?
"Please believe me when I say I never meant for this to happen," says August. "Is Henry okay?"
“He’s doing better now.”
August looks relieved. “Good. He’s a great kid. Smart. Like you.”
Emma gives him a small smile in agreement before returning to the issue at hand. “I’m glad you’re okay too, but I don’t think Gold had good intentions when he saved you.”
“I think he did,” August protests softly. “I think he cares about me.”
“You ‘think?' That’s not reassuring. You can’t put that sort of thing on faith alone, especially with him. Not after all he’s done.”
August doesn’t reply.
Emma presses forward, whispering. "I don’t care what he has over you. You don't have to stay here."
"I want to."
She studies his expression for lies. Her superpower has always faltered with August. For a long time, everything he said sounded too fanciful to be entirely true, but her instincts told her that he wasn't lying. Then he'd taken her to the diner she was left at as a baby, fed her that story about being Pinocchio and she'd called him a liar when it was the truest thing he'd ever told her. He's an enigma, and she doesn’t know what to say to convince him to change his mind.
August pats the mattress again.
Emma sits down next to him.
"Do you remember when Mary-Margaret was framed, and you were struggling to piece together what really happened?" asks August.
"You told me I had a block."
"You needed to look back and change your perspective."
Watching him, Emma re-aligns the pieces in her head. It started as a missing person, then became an abduction, but now it turns out it's not either of those things. August truly, honestly, wants to stay with Gold. Emma isn't sure how she feels about that. Part of her feels betrayed. Gold used her. Was August using her too?
"I changed my perspective of Mr. Gold," August continues, "I was improvising a plan, but things took an unexpected turn. I was forced to re-evaluate. Now I don't think of him as an evil, manipulative person..."
"Experience has taught me that he is."
"What if he's not? Do you think you could have a little faith in him?"
"That's a lot to ask, even from you."
"Could you have a little faith in me instead?"
At first she's stunned that August would have to ask, but she quickly recalls how she'd been suspicious of him at every turn when he'd only ever tried to get her to see the truth. Now he's slipping away from her, and she doesn't know what to do. Gold can’t be trusted. August is vulnerable right now. Put those two things together and it’ll only end in tragedy. At the same time, Emma knows that if August wants to stay, she can't change his mind. His choices are his own. Seems the only thing she can do is what he's asking of her.
"Okay," she agrees. "But I hope you know what you're doing."
___
The evening continues its awkward dance. August sits with them at the dining table as Emma, Gold, and Belle finish eating. Afterwards, August and Belle retreat to the kitchen with the dishes. As they’re washing up, Emma and Gold stare at each other from opposite sides of the table. Gold sips on wine.
“Do you love him?” asks Emma.
Gold pauses, mid-drink. He searches the bottom of his wine glass. Lowers it with a careful click. He looks at her, nodding slightly. “…I do.”
There was no answer he could give that wouldn’t have unsettled her.
___
Emma tries again before she leaves. The evening is old. Belle has tucked herself onto the couch in the lounge and Gold casts her adoring looks whenever she scrunches up her nose and yawns. His attitude towards Emma has grown increasingly snappish.
August is retreating to the shadows of the unlit corridor when Emma catches his wrist. “Are you sure?” She pleads with her eyes. Change your mind, come with me.
He touches her cheek like she’s the one who needs reassurance. Maybe there's a little truth to that.
“I’m sure,” he says.
In the corner of her eye, Emma notices Gold watching them. The son of a bitch looks as satisfied as a cat who recently made a kill. It’s the final push she can take. The walls around her heart crumble; she hugs August.
It is uncomfortable only in the physical sense. He is all rough edges and pointed angles. But she needs this. He holds her like she is as fragile as an infant.
"Anything happens, you call me. Promise?"
"I promise."
It feels wrong to leave him, like she is leaving family behind. Still, she goes without further protest when Gold ushers her to the door. He is about to close it in her face, but she stops him with her hand.
"You hurt him, and I will take you down once and for all,” she hisses. “I am not kidding."
Gold chuckles. "I'd enjoy that. Such a shame it'll never happen." When Emma narrows her eyes, he raises his hands, "I assure you, Miss Swan, that so long as August is in my care he'll be perfectly safe. I won't let anything happen to him."
His gaze is heavy with the weight of the promise. There’s no curve to his lip, no hint of insincerity or mischief. He means what he says.
“Good,” Emma belatedly replies.
Gold seems to realise he has shown too much because his face goes carefully neutral. That, at least, provides some reassurance that there's something real here. This little something is what Emma uses to talk herself into leaving.
Once she crosses the street, she can't help but turn back to look at the house. She was hoping to see August standing in the window, but he isn't. The only one watching her leave is Belle.