(A/N): Hey guys! How's it going? I'm not even going to try and explain the wait. This just wasn't flowing the way I wanted it to. I've legitimately been working on this chapter and the next one for over a year. They've both been a pain.

Shoutouts to Lucyole, Lionhearted21, mUmaRhz, nagi92, Evil Regal Maxxeen, sailorxbloom, Nanashi Samurai, Ichigo0-0Rose, PrettyRecklessLaura, TheLifeStruggleIsREAL, Lost O'Fallon Girl, OuatLover, The Dark One Rising, Zara, 1991, vamp1987, ndavis77, SlytherinQueen86, HashtagJustMonika, NYFanFic, NadiixD, EraticMind, xwolvie, fringeperson, RHatch89, Elizabeth, NicoleR85, and Guests for reviewing! Your love for this story has sometimes been the only thing that's kept me writing for it.

This chapter is dedicated to fringeperson because she has been waiting for this for awhile. And also I'm a bad friend. Forgive me?

Special thanks to my lovely beta sailorxbloom for reviewing this chapter!

Song lyrics for this chapter is from "Gasoline" by Halsey. (Yes, another Halsey song, but it really fits the character I'm introducing here!)

Hope you all had a great weekend! Enjoy!

Are you insane like me?

Been in pain like me?

Bought a hundred dollar bottle

Of champagne like me?

Just to pour that motherfucker down

The drain like me?

"She won't willingly eat, she won't sleep, I can't even get her to talk to me," Emma's voice drifted up the stairs. "Just what exactly am I supposed to be doing right now? How am I supposed to help her?!"

"Time, Miss Swan," came Gold's calm reply. "What she needs right now is time. While she may have acknowledged the Darkness attempting to take over her, that is not the same thing as actually defeating it. She needs time to work through all that has occurred and figure out what she wants her next step to be."

"I get that, I do, but she also needs to know that she's not alone and I can't figure out the line between 'supportive presence' and 'overbearing monster' right now because she won't respond to anything! I've only been able to get her eat three times and each time it was only after I promised to leave her alone if she did." The hurt was plain to hear in Emma's voice.

"Miss Swan, if your current tone was the one you used when trying to communicate with Hermione, I can completely understand why she gave in." Gold's tone was unamused. "Now, I've heard that you have taken the last few days off of work and while I commend you for the care you've shown your sister, might I suggest you return to your duties as deputy?"

"I am not going to abandon-"

"You are drawing attention to yourself and to your sister," he broke in, tone low. "Right now, Regina has no idea who pushed her into the mine. While your sister is a likely suspect in her mind, she is by no means the only possibility. Your taking time off of work right after the Mayor's accident, however, is going to raise suspicions that you cannot afford to deal with right now."

Hermione lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling as she listened to the fighting going on downstairs. It had been four days since she'd attacked Regina and three days since Emma and effectively put her on house arrest. In that time, Hermione had only left her room to go to the bathroom. Emma had either stayed in her room with her or been in the living room to make sure that her sister didn't try and sneak out of the house.

Emma seemed to be under the impression that the Anti-Apparation wards Hermione erected to keep anyone from apparating into and out of the house would keep her in. She obviously didn't know that, since Hermione had been the one to create them, she could come and go as she pleased. So far, she hadn't felt the need to magically transport herself from the house. Until now.

There was a burning, an itching beneath her skin, and Hermione was infected with the need to move. The idea of staying inside the house for even one more moment made her heart race and caused her to grow short of breath. Standing up, Hermione moved to the dresser and pulled out a clean change of clothes. Once properly dressed, she threw up a non-verbal Silencing Charm and apparated out of the room and to the edge of town.

Would you use your water bill

To dry the stain like me?

Are you high enough

Without the Mary Jane like me?

Do you tear yourself apart

To entertain like me?

Hermione wandered through the woods, changing directions at random.

She didn't know what she was doing anymore.

She had almost killed Regina and the thought of doing so hadn't bothered her in the least. Beyond not bothering her, she had been almost happy to do it. This woman had ruined so many lives, had an entire vault of hearts locked up in the cemetery, and was actively trying to hurt her family. Regina was a monster and she deserved to die, but did Hermione have the right to play judge, jury, and executioner? Perhaps. MACUSA had put her in charge of the area and her orders had stated that she should deal with any threats as she saw fit.

But even if she did, that didn't mean Hermione had the right to bury the woman alive and she certainly shouldn't have enjoyed the thought of doing so.

They were all right, Hermione had been going Dark for a while and she would soon be passing the point of No Return if she didn't catch herself. What made it worse was that Draco-sodding-Malfoy had been the one to spot the truth and point out what was going on to her sister. Bad enough that he was here at all, but to also be holding the position of moral high ground? That was nauseating.

As she began to climb up a steep hill, Hermione felt a weariness sink into her bones. She was tired of trying to look at problems from every angle, of checking every solution she came up with for potential problems, of having a mind that never stopped. Gods, she just wanted her mind to be quiet for once. She wanted everyone to stop expecting things from her. Answers and feedback and support and ideas and-

She wanted to not be Hermione Granger anymore.

That was at the heart of this. She didn't feel like Hermione Granger anymore. If she was honest, she didn't feel much at all anymore.

It was easier to pretend to be someone who felt something, ever since Henry first appeared at their door. Coming to Storybrooke and focusing on the mystery of the town gave her a much-needed escape from her own thoughts for a bit.

She loved her sister. She loved her nephew. Rumpelstiltskin was still a bit of conundrum for her, but she cared for him too.

When she was with them, for a few fleeting moments, she could be someone who actually felt something. But those emotions quickly drained away as soon as she was alone, leaving an emptiness that gnawed at her and an ever-present chill in her bones.

Finally reaching the top of the hill, Hermione found herself standing in front of a large manor house. Reaching out her hand, she brushed her fingers along the tattered remains of the wards surrounding the building. The spell itself was old, as old as the ones around the town were, but the tears in it were recent.

Walking along the drive to a set of stone steps leading up to the front door, she slumped down onto them and curled into a ball, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her chin on top of her knees.

What was she supposed to do now? This situation wasn't like going through a detox or cutting out carbs- her magic was ingrained into every aspect of her being. Quitting magic now would be the same as Emma deciding to not use her right hand because that was the one she used to punch Regina.

That's what Emma seemed to want- she wanted Hermione to stop using her magic. Or at least, stop using Dark Magic but since Hermione hadn't even really been aware that she had been doing Dark spells, quitting entirely would probably be what was required. Could Hermione do that though? If she stopped, would that be enough to fix her?

Hermione couldn't stop herself from seeing Emma's expression every time she closed her eyes. Her wonderful, bold, brave older sister had been terrified. Was Emma afraid of her now? If so, then she wasn't alone.

Do the people whisper 'bout you

On the train like me?

Saying that you shouldn't waste

Your pretty face like me?

"Are you alright?"

Opening her eyes, unsure of when exactly she had closed them, Hermione glanced over at the dress pants and shoes that were currently standing next to her. She hadn't even heard him coming up to her. If this had been 6 months ago, Hermione would be dead by now.

Maybe that was the problem, the core issue here. Maybe Hermione was never meant to last this long, wasn't meant to survive the war.

All three of the Golden Trio had miraculously made it out of the Final Battle with their lives- a fact that stunned Hermione. She'd been stuck in a state of shock during those brief moments in-between tallying the causalities and being pounced on by Ministry officials that had hoped to get in her good books before Kingsley launched a formal inquiry into what every single one of them had been doing during Thicknesse's time as Minister of Magic, and even once she'd snapped out of it she'd been unable to process it. And then she'd just stopped trying to think at all about anything to do with Wizarding Britain.

"Miss?" The man shifted and then he was kneeling down, light blue eyes meeting her own. "Do you need some help?"

Tilting her head slightly, Hermione asked, "Were those wards keeping you in or keeping everyone else out?"

He reared back as if she had slapped him and she was able to take him in more fully. Tousled brown hair was pushed off of his forehead and his slightly wide nose rested over full lips and a strong jawline. "What?" he finally whispered, his too-blue eyes, framed by a thick fringe of lashes, widening. Her roommates would have been obsessed with him if he had gone to Hogwarts with them.

"The wards around your house. Were they placed to keep you in? Or did you put them there to keep someone out? I can't tell if you have magic. I used to be able to tell, used to have a good grasp on things, but alas, what once was slips away with every tick of time." Hermione's head was spinning now. Nothing here felt real, felt right.

His hands were on her face now. "You know about magic?" There was a strange light in his eyes, and she could feel his fingers shaking against her cheeks.

"Don't you?"

"Who are you?" he murmured, leaning in close.

Hermione's laugh was choked. "That is the question, isn't it? That's the question for every single person in this God-forsaken town. 'Who am I?' There's who they were then and there's who they are now, but which one is the real one? I know who I was, but who am I now?" Tears filled Hermione's eyes. "If I don't like who I am now, can I go back to who I was?"

He seemed torn for some reason, brows furrowed and jaw clenched. Finally seeming to make a decision, he said, "My name is Jefferson." Then his arms were around her and he was carefully lifting her up. "Let's go inside and have some tea while you tell me who you were."

And all the people say

You can't wake up this is not a dream

You're part of the machine,

You are not a human being

Low on self-esteem

So, you run on gasoline

Jefferson had set her down on the couch before bustling out of the living room. Hermione stared around blankly. It was very white here, the pale shades broken only by splashes of colors from the striped pillows and painting on the wall above the fireplace.

When he came back into the room with a tea tray, Hermione hadn't moved an inch. Jefferson frowned as he set the tray down on the table in front of her. "Why are you sitting like that?"

Hermione was sitting on the edge of the couch with her knees pulled up slightly so that her feet were off the floor. "My shoes are muddy, and your carpet is white," she answered simply.

"So is my couch and you're sitting there after having spent several minutes out lurking on my steps; it's alright."

Letting her feet drop to the floor, Hermione slumped back in her seat. "We're sitting in a manor, in a town that shouldn't exist, surrounded by people who were originally fairytale characters: remind me where in all that could things be considered alright?"

"So, you know the truth?" Jefferson leaned towards here, so hopeful. "I know that you came into town with the Savior, but I didn't think you were one of us."

Flinching slightly at his words, she slowly answered, "I know the truth, but I'm not one of you. I'm just Emma's little sister."

While Jefferson seemed slightly disappointed at her response, his expression was still bright. "What's your name?"

"Hermione. Is Jefferson your real name?"

"Yes. Her Majesty didn't see the need to give me a new name since I wasn't going to be talking to anyone here." His tone had turned bitter as he spoke of Regina. Pouring Hermione a cup of tea, Jefferson asked casually, "If you're not from the Enchanted Forest, why did you try to kill Regina?"

Hermione held the cup in her hands but didn't drink. "Because my sister is the Savior and my nephew is her adopted son. Figured it would be better to take her out first. Didn't work out quite the way I thought it would- things rarely do for me."

Jefferson made a soft noise. "Yes, I know that feeling. But, if you have magic, why didn't you kill her using that?"

"Because she doesn't have magic," she responded, tone bland. "To Regina, magic is a wonderful and glorious thing. It's the source of her power and the reason she was able to make an entire kingdom tremble in fear at the sound of her name. So, knowing that, why would I give her the dignity of dying at the hands of magic? She's common now, and there's no need to use extraordinary means to get rid of someone so ordinary."

"Huh." A wide grin spread across Jefferson's face. "I hadn't thought of it like that but you're right. A commoner's death is exactly what she deserves."

Peering up at him, Hermione asked, "You weren't there though, so how did you find out?"

Jefferson eyed the cup in her hands before sighing and standing up, gesturing for her to follow him. Leading her up a flight of stairs and walking down a hallway towards the back of the house, they entered a room covered in white shelves with top hats littering every single one and fabrics strewn across a white table dominating the middle of the floor. In the back corner was a telescope. "Take a look for yourself," Jefferson offered, gesturing to the telescope.

Drifting over, Hermione peeked through the lens of the telescope into the main square of Storybrooke. "I see," she murmured, pulling back. "It makes sense; without being able to actually venture into the town, this allowed you to keep abreast of the goings-on. What did you do to Regina to have her do this? Why leave you alive at all rather than just ripping your heart out and being done with it?"

"I was the accident, the unexpected. She didn't know I would come here and didn't know what to do with me."

Looking back at him, Hermione studied his face for a long moment before looking behind him at the wall of hats. "You're the Hatter," she realized. "The man she trapped in Wonderland."

"Yes, yes I am." Jefferson's expression turned slightly manic. "She used me to save her father only to kill the man herself later. You're well-informed for someone who claims to be an outsider."

She knew she should probably be concerned for her own safety given how Jefferson was currently staring at her, but Hermione couldn't bring herself to care. "There's a storybook that contains tales from the Enchanted Forest- that's how I first learned about the curse. It's mostly about Snow White and Charming's story, but you're in it as well. Regina tricked you into going Wonderland, used your daughter against you."

As quick as the manic rage had appeared, it was replaced by utter grief. "Yes, Grace. My daughter Grace. Regina gave her a whole new life, stole her memories of me. She even took her name. They call her Paige now."

"Paige," Hermione repeated. "She's in Henry's class, right? I've heard him mention her before."

"Is that the name of the Queen's son?" Jefferson snorted. "How like her, thinking that naming a kid after the father she murdered somehow cancels out what she's done." His attitude did another 180. "You could sense the wards around the house; you have magic here."

Hermione shrugged. "Yes, but it's different from your magic. For example, I can't go ripping out people's hearts."

"Small comfort, there."

"I try." Walking over to perch on the table next to Jefferson, Hermione asked, "Are you trying to go home?"

"I…the hats don't work. I've tried- these are just the latest hats not all of them- but I can't get a single one to work. I don't have the magic to power it. But you," he looked hopeful again, "you could get it to work."

She shook her head. "No, I don't think so. Your hat had the power to transport people between worlds, something my magic can't do. I know nothing about breaking the divide separating world-lines. Besides, why would you want to leave? Grace is still here."

"I would take her with me! You have to try!"

Sighing, Hermione slid off the table and walked around to the chair on the other side of the table. "Alright, but you'll have to give me directions because I've never tried to make a hat before."

Jefferson looked surprised. "You're going to do it?"

"I'm going to try," Hermione corrected. "I honestly don't think it'll work but I'm willing to try. It's not as though I have anything else to do, after all."

"I thought you would put up more of a fight," he said suspiciously.

"I don't really feel like fighting," Hermione told him as she inspected the fabrics in front of her. "Truthfully though, I haven't been feeling much at all recently. Besides, you seem like the kind of person who needs proof before you'll believe something, and I'd rather not have you thinking that I'm hiding my ability at making magical hats."

"I've always had the opposite problem- I've always felt too much," Jefferson told her, ignoring the rest of what she said as he sat down in another chair in the room and watched her work.

I think there's a flaw

In my code

These voices won't leave me alone

Well my heart is gold

And my hands are cold

"So, does Grace have any memories of you?"

He shook his head. "None. My daughter has no idea who I am or who she really is."

"If she doesn't remember who you are, then why would you want to try and take her back to the Enchanted Forest? Wouldn't you just be taking her to a strange land that she has no idea how to survive in and isolating her from everyone she currently knows?" Her voice was calm and un-accusing as she questioned him.

They sat in silence for a moment until Jefferson finally muttered, "I hope that the magic of the portal will help return her memories. After all, I'm pretty sure that's what made me able to retain who I was before."

Hermione hummed. "Yes, but you were a portal jumper for many years, weren't you? While you may be right and your previous profession is what helped you keep your memories, there's no guarantee that one jump will be enough to return Grace's." Her fingers lightly traced the velvet cloth laying on the table, enjoying the sensation of it against her skin. "How did you get here? I thought you were trapped in Wonderland."

"I was. I guess the curse was able to pull people from other realms that were either originally from the Enchanted Forest or whom Regina had previous contact with. One moment I was helping Alice escape from Wonderland and the next, I was in this house, trapped until you and your sister rolled into town."

She stopped working and met his gaze. "What have you been doing since?"

Clasping his hands together, Jefferson hunched forward slightly. "Not much. I…haven't been able to go into town yet."

"Too many people?" At the surprise in his eyes, Hermione gave him a small, bitter smile. "Before I was staying with Emma, I was on the run for about a year or so from a Dark Lord and his lackeys. Even once it was safe to be out and about again, I still couldn't stand going anywhere out in the open or that had too many people inside. It was almost a relief to come here from Boston- much less people are out and about, especially on weekdays."

For the first time since he'd found her sitting on his steps, Jefferson relaxed. "I'm scared to let the Queen find out that I'm free. I don't want her to lock me up."

"You're not crazy, Jefferson," Hermione told him. "Even though I've only known you for an hour or so, even I can tell that you're not crazy. A little battered and bruised, and your people skills may need a bit of work, but you're certainly not insane. Your plan for Grace, however, might not be the best."

"Why not?" he asked, though he didn't appear angry with her for saying so.

"The only way to be sure that Grace gets her memories back is for Emma to break the curse."

"No." Jefferson's response was firm. "I don't want that- I don't want her having two lives competing with each other inside her head like I do."

Furrowing her brows in thought, Hermione asked, "You have memories for your Storybrooke counterpart?"

"Here, I am an agoraphobic, recluse billionaire. I don't want Grace to have to deal with her 28 years as Paige competing with her memories of who she actually is."

Hermione returned to her attempts at making a hat. "You realize that those memories are probably at the root of your anxieties now, right? His fears are mixing with yours in a toxic combination. Also, it would only be one year of Paige's memories."

Jefferson frowned at her. "One year?"

"Yes, one year. Everyone here has been living the same year over and over again, like in the movie Groundhog Day. Since you were aware of time passing, you were able to feel the full effect of those 28 years. However, for everyone else, it will only be one year of memories. It's rather interesting from an outside perspective- everyone here has a set personality but without any previous memories to back it. The only memories they have are for the year they're living in repeat. Well, except for Regina and Henry." Hermione began to carefully attempt to sew a brim onto her hat, still unsure if she was making it correctly. Knitting a hat was very different from trying to create a tophat.

"How would you know? How can you be sure?"

"It was initially just a theory I had as I began to do research into the town, but Gold confirmed it when I asked him previously."

"Gold, as in the pawnshop owner?" He frowned. "I'd wondered if he had his memories; you visit his shop almost every day. He got his memories back? Who is he really?"

"He's had his memories for almost the entire time we've been here. His real name is Rumpelstiltskin."

"Rumpelstiltskin is here?!" The shock in Jefferson's tone made Hermione glance over at him, and she watched his expression change from surprise to an odd sort of understanding, as though he'd finally found the piece of the puzzle he'd been searching for. "How did he manage to stay free? I'd have expected Regina to keep him locked up tight."

"Do you know him well?" Hermione asked curiously. "And I imagine Regina wishes she had kept him locked up but she made a deal and, as you know, one doesn't break a deal with the Dark One."

"We did business together," Jefferson answered, beginning to pace the room. "I suppose you could say we were friends, or as close as one could be when it came to Rumpelstiltskin. He looks completely different here- guess the shiny skin and leather pants didn't translate well in this world."

"I'm sorry, did you say leather pants?" Hermione couldn't help laughing. It didn't sound right to her own ears. "That's brilliant."

"Yeah, he would only wear leather pants for some reason. Skintight ones too." He stopped walking then and looked down at his feet with a frown. "I guess we weren't all that close, considering the fact that I haven't heard from him at all."

"Do you own this house?" Hermione asked abruptly.

"What?" Jefferson asked, confused at the change of subject. "Um, yes, I do. Why?"

"Because, if you were unable to leave the house until we arrived in town, the only way someone would see you is if they came to the house. Gold the pawnshop owner wouldn't have a reason to come here unless you were renting the house from him and he had to come here monthly to collect payment." Hermione chose a ribbon and tied it around the hat. "You said she was keeping you away from the rest of the town. The rest of the town, even the Queen's house, is owned by Rumpelstiltskin and they have to pay rent monthly. One way to ensure that the Dark One wouldn't find out about you is by having the deed to the house be in your name. The house is so out of the way, Gold would have no idea it even existed. Rumpelstiltskin has no idea you're even here."

Offering the hat to Jefferson, Hermione asked, "What do you think?"

Pressing his lips together for a moment to smother a smile, Jefferson finally gave up on being nice and began to chuckle. "That is the worst hat I've ever seen."

Hermione threw her hands up in the air in defeat. "I told you I needed instructions! Hat-making was never one of the skills I felt necessary to know!"

Jefferson was still laughing as he took the hat from her and carefully set it on a shelf with several others. The moment he had touched it, he'd known there was no magic in it. Still, he would add it to his collection of failures. Once his amusement had subsided, he came to stand beside her with a serious expression on his face and asked, "Are you sure Rumpelstiltskin's memories aren't just a result of his being the Dark One? What if it's worse for Grace because she has no magic?"

"Rumpelstiltskin still has his memories from his time as Gold, but they aren't overwhelming him. When I asked him what it was like to remember, he compared it to waking up from a deep sleep- he went from being Gold to Rumpelstiltskin in a second and it was as though he had always been Rumpelstiltskin and only dreamed that he was once a man called Mr. Gold. His two personalities didn't compete with each other because one wasn't real, it was only an illusion." Hermione stood up from her chair and stretched. "I imagine that, with time, those memories of their Storybrooke counterparts will fade completely after the curse has broken but I can offer no guarantees."

"I just… I just want to keep Grace safe," Jefferson admitted. "To protect her and keep her with me the way I should have before."

Hermione shrugged. "What was can never be changed. It's over. The past is what it is."

"Yeah, yeah," Jefferson waved her away. "That's what one of the psychology classes I took said."

"You took classes?" She was vaguely impressed. "That's just something my sister told me yesterday. She was just repeating things she'd read off the internet though, in an attempt to make me speak."

"There wasn't much else to do. I started taking correspondence courses and then online ones in order to help stay distracted."

She nodded approvingly. "It's always a worthwhile endeavor to improve your mind. Plus, you're probably the most qualified person in town now- no matter the profession."

Jefferson shifted uncomfortably. "It was just something to do to pass the time." Meeting her gaze again, his head titled to the side slightly as he asked, "How do you have magic?"

Hermione turned to stare blankly out the window. "I would have thought my comment about a Dark Lord would have been enough. This world has its own magic, different from yours but still powerful. I am one of the lucky few capable of wielding magic."

"That's how you've been doing it," Jefferson seemed to realize. "I was confused at how you were getting around town and into places you shouldn't have access to. When you attacked the Evil Queen, I couldn't understand where you'd come from."

"Magical travel- great for getting into places you shouldn't be and sneaking up on your enemies," she quipped.

"And your sister, Emma, she knows about magic? About the Evil Queen?"

"She knows about magic but is having a bit of trouble accepting the fact that beings written as characters from children's stories are actually real and walking about."

Eyes carefully scanning her face, Jefferson asked, "Your sister didn't agree with what you did to Regina, did she?"

Clenching her jaw, Hermione softly answered, "My sister is considered a hardened cynic by many but at her core, she's still intrinsically good- the kind of good that believes there's always another way."

Jefferson sighed, beyond tired. "When it comes to Regina, there's no other way. Words mean nothing to her; if you want to make an impact, good or bad, you have to use force."

Are you deranged like me?

Are you strange like me?

Lighting matches just to

Swallow up the flame like me?

"Did you have a good time?" Gold asked pleasantly, leaning on his cane in Hermione's bedroom entrance.

She had just reappeared back at the house after leaving Jefferson's, who had only let her leave without making a fuss after she had sworn that she would return. Hermione ended up leaving a necklace she'd gotten for her 16th birthday with the Hatter as proof of her intention to come back the next day.

Hermione blinked at him. "I found someone- someone else who remembers."

Gold's eyebrow rose. "Really? Who?"

"Your old friend Jefferson."

Both brows shot upwards. "Jefferson is here? Last I heard, Regina had left him to rot in Wonderland with her dear mother."

"It would seem the curse affected other realms and brought some of the people there to this world." Hermione walked over to her desk and carefully set a leather-bound notebook down next to the laptop she shared with Emma. She wasn't sure when it had migrated into her room and that realization unsettled her.

"Interesting," he hummed, watching her. Hermione was different now, fractionally less shattered than she had been previously. "I always enjoyed Jefferson's company. He knew the truth about what I was and what I did but never allowed that to influence his own judgement of who I was.

"Even once he retired, we still kept in touch as much as we could, and I respected his decision to stop his work in order to properly care for his daughter. After my many years of dealing with selfish, undeserving parents, it was rather…refreshing to be around a man who knew just what a gift a child is."

It was Hermione's turn to rest a watchful eye on the other person in the room. The way Rumpelstiltskin spoke… "Regina separated him from his daughter, Grace. I believe he's feeling a little desperate now; he was asking if my magic could transport him back to the Enchanted Forest. I managed to dissuade him from that idea, but it would be helpful if you went to speak with him as well."

"I would enjoy Jefferson's company again," Gold agreed. "Perhaps next time you go to see him, I could join you."

Hermione shifted slightly. "If you'd like. I was thinking of also bringing Henry when he has some free time. Jefferson seems like he could do with a little bit of faith and Henry always has an abundance of it."

Gold's eyes flashed. "Have you spoken with Henry recently?"

"No," she answered softly. "I didn't feel up to it and I didn't want to worry him."

"I think your silence would have been cause enough to worry him," he told her. "It has certainly been worrying your sister." Limping further into the room, Gold continued. "You know, your sister seems to believe that all magic is bad for you at this time. That casting any spell will just push you further into darkness. She wants you to stop using magic entirely."

"I am aware of Emma's thoughts," Hermione hissed, remembering all the hushed conversations she had overheard the last few days.

"I can't help wondering though," Gold continued, as if Hermione hadn't spoken. "If that won't just make things worse for you. Magic is a part of you, Hermione, and if you suppress it for too long, eventually it's just going to escape- probably in a large and violent manner."

"If that's what you believe, what do you think I should do?"

"Well, it's simple, dearie. When in doubt, start with the basics. Tell me, when you were in school, what was the first thing you were taught when learning about the most basic of spells?"

Hermione stared blankly down at her journal. "The history of a spell, what it's supposed to do, and suggestions of what to do while casting in order for it to work."

Gold frowned. "What kind of suggestions?"

"Visualize what you want to happen, picture yourself saying the words, the spell leaving your wand, and the spell eventually being successful," she recited with disinterest.

Humming, Gold said, "So, basically, you learned everything except for the thing at the heart of every spell."

"And that is?"

"Why, intent, of course. Intent is the key to deciding whether a spell is Dark or Light. If you cast a spell with the intent to make another suffer, then the spell will be Dark. But, if you cast a spell to protect or to help, then the magic is Light."

"Frankly, there are very few spells that can be inherently declared as Dark or Light. For example- using a spell from one of your textbooks- your world classifies a Summoning Spell as Light magic. However, if I were use that spell to summon someone's heart from their chest, that would make it a 'dark' act. The spell would become a Dark spell, as it were.

"Or take your Killing Curse." Gold's voice was smooth and capturing, making Hermione hang on his every word. "It's considered to be the Darkest of magics, but is it really? All it is a painless, efficient way of killing. As I've just shown you, even a seemingly innocent spell can have darker uses. There are many ways the Killing Curse could be used for not-Dark reasons. Perhaps not Light, but not definitively Dark. The non-magical equivalent of it is, essentially, a gun. While many countries have strict bans on guns, there are also many acceptable reasons to have and use one. Hunting, self-defense, security- just to name a few. The Killing Curse could be used by medical practitioners for euthanasia purposes. It could be to stop a criminal about to hurt someone."

"Yes, as does the Stunning Spell," Hermione retorted, relaxing slightly as her mind settled into this intellectual conversation. It had been awhile since she had been able to discuss magical practices and uses with anyone and she had sorely missed it. "And for a Killing Curse, you have to want to kill someone. You have to truly want another's death. And wanting to kill someone is a bad thing, remember?"

He smiled. "Not necessarily. You wanting Regina isn't a bad thing- it's just the way you went about it. And it's also not that you need to want to kill someone, it's that you're resolved to do it. You can't accidentally use the Killing Curse. To someone who practices Dark Magic, it's easy to confuse want and resolve. They truly want to kill someone, and are therefore resolved to do it."

It made sense in a way that Hermione wasn't expecting. "The resolve to kill someone," she repeated, mind racing.

"As for your suggestion of the Stunning Spell," Gold continued. "Well, I think you already know why a Killing Curse might be a better choice in certain situations."

Her lips quirked. "The Stunning Spell is a powerful bit of magic, but there are certain charms and defensive measures that can be taken to make it ineffective. It is difficult to tell if those are being used on the spot, though law enforcement can usually guess whether or not they might be utilized based on a suspect's history. The more powerful they are, the more likely they are to be using the best defensive spells and wards they can. If an officer shot off a Stunning Spell and it didn't work, the suspect would be able to respond with deadly force."

"And what is the current response if a suspect is thought to be using said measures?"

"In Britain, it's cornering them and trying to hit them with as many Stunning Spells as possible," Hermione snorted. It was a ridiculous plan, if Hermione was being frank. There was so much being left to chance, so many different ways that things could go wrong. "Did you know, those spells are only considered 'Unforgivables' in Britain? They're illegal in most other countries, of course, but they're not considered to be deserving of their own category of the law, as it were."

"As the world changes, so too does the way we educate," Gold stated, slowly sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Unfortunately, your magical government fought tooth and nail to stay in the Dark Ages and failed to understand the truth of what magic really is."

Hermione walked over to the bed and sat down next to him. "And that truth lies in intent?"

Gold looked at her. "If you don't want to fall into Darkness, then you need to make sure that every spell you cast is done for the right reason. If you kill someone in order to protect, then your spells are not Dark because your intent isn't. If you cast a spell to create light with the goal of creating a light so bright it would cause your enemies to go completely blind, then it is a Dark spell. So, for the next few weeks, think about why you are casting a spell or making a potion and decide what your intent is." His hands tightened on his cane, as if he was forcing himself not to reach out a hand to her. "People fear what they cannot fully understand. Your sister understands the mechanics of what is going on, but she can never fully comprehend what you're struggling with. Make sure that you do what is best for you, not what she thinks is best. Don't ever give up a part of yourself in order to please another- you should never have to change who and what you are in order to gain the acceptance of someone who claims to love you."

"And what if you start to lose the truth of your intent?" she asked softly, thinking of Dumbledore. "What if you start doing terrible things and tell yourself that it's for the best, that your intent is true, and can't see how wrong your actions are?"

"Then you have to make sure you have people in your life that you trust enough to listen to when they tell you to stop. But that trust will only come if you can be sure that they're fully aware of what is going on, if you are sure that they know the rules. Because if you can't trust that they understand, then you won't trust them when they speak up."

Turning to look at him with shrew eyes, Hermione asked, "Did you have any?"

For a split second, Rumpelstiltskin looked achingly sad. "No, I didn't."

Do you call yourself a

Fucking hurricane like me?

Point your fingers 'cause you

Never take the blame like me?

"Hey," Emma greeted, eyes wide with surprise at seeing Hermione sitting on the couch next to Gold. "You're up."

Hermione just nodded, glancing at her sister for only a moment before looking away.

Emma sighed. She had to remind herself that it was all about baby steps- Hermione had come down the stairs. That was progress. It had just been a long day though. Regina was not happy about her relationship with Graham and, fueled by her rage at both losing him and at the lack of clues at who had attacked her, was trying to get at least one of them thrown out of the Sheriff's office. So far, it seemed like Graham's job was safe. Emma's on the other hand…

Sydney Glass, also known as Regina's dog, had just published an article about Emma giving birth to Henry while in jail and the kid was now asking some questions that Emma had hoped she wouldn't have to deal with anytime soon.

"Is Henry coming over later?" Hermione abruptly asked.

Starting, Emma told her, "Henry's going to be staying away from the house for the near future."

Hermione frowned, looking back at her sister. "Why?" she demanded. "Is it Regina?"

"No," she slowly answered, suddenly feeling slightly worried about the decision she had made earlier. Only for a moment though. Emma had to do what was best and right now, this seemed like the best call she could make. "I think it's best for your recovery if you two stay apart for a while."

Reeling back slightly, her sister stared at her. "Are you really trying to pull a Regina right now? What exactly are you worried about? Do you really think I would ever do anything to hurt Henry?"

"What do you think killing Regina like that would have done to Henry?" Emma shot back, stung by her sister's accusation. "Do you really think he wouldn't have been upset at the woman who raised him dying?"

"And how exactly do you see this ending?" Hermione inquired, standing up. "When this is all over, the curse is broken and MACUSA is able to enter into the town, what do you think they'll do? Regina entered into this country- this world- illegally, along with thousands of hostages that she kidnapped and erased the memories of, and has committed an untold number of murders. You think they're going to just let her spend out the rest of her days in a cell? You think they'll ever allow Henry to see her again? I can guarantee they won't. They'll make an example of her.

"Which would be worse for Henry: Regina dying unexpectedly and he's given the chance to mourn, or making him watch her long, drawn-out trial where every monstrous thing she's ever done is laid bare for him to see and then he's left feeling like there's something wrong with him because he misses her? Either way, this isn't going to be easy for Henry. Isn't it better then to choose the option that will damage him the least?"

Emma gaped at her. "Can you hear yourself right now? That doesn't even make any sense!"

"Actually," Gold chimed in. "That makes a great deal of sense. If the boy is going to end up hurt either way, why not ensure that what happens will be the least painful of choices for him?"

"That," Emma threw her arm towards Gold. "Do you really think it's a good sign that you're sharing the same thought-process as him?"

"It's called critical thinking," Hermione snapped. "Perhaps if you'd done more of it in the past, it wouldn't be so shocking to see now."

Closing her eyes and inhaling through her nose, Emma slowly let out a breath. "I understand that you're having a difficult time right now- I really do. But your coping methods aren't healthy, and I will not let you keep on like this."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Is that so? Do tell, what exactly is your grand plan for making me change?"

She knew that Hermione wasn't going to respond well to the rest of this plan. "I think it would be for the best that you spend some time outside of Storybrooke. Thomas mentioned that Akingbade is in New York and wants to meet with you- apparently Kingsley arranged for a mentorship of some sort between you two. And... I spoke with him about finding a therapist."

Several emotions flittered across Hermione's face for only a moment, before taking a blank mien. "You're sending me away? What happened to us sticking together? What, because I won't behave how you want, I'm not worth your time?"

Gold was glaring at Emma now. "Are you sure that's wise, dearie?"

"This is for the best," Emma repeated, standing firm. It had to be. Because, if this didn't work, Emma didn't know what she was going to do. It was her job to protect her sister. Hermione had been the one to tell her how oppressive the magic in the town was, how she could feel all the rage and pain Regina had poured into her magic when casting her curse. Trying to deal with that on top of her own emotions couldn't be easy, so maybe her leaving for a bit would be the best way for Hermione to start to heal.

"Best for who?" Hermione spat, turning on her heel. "Because it's certainly not for me." Then, without a backwards glance, Hermione was up the stairs and the sound of her bedroom door closing, followed by a crack that echoed through the house.

Emma groaned. She hadn't known that Hermione could apparate with the wards still up.

Without saying another word, Gold collected his coat and shuffled towards the door.

"What?" Emma couldn't resist prodding. "No final, cryptic comment?"

He didn't even look back at her, just opened the door and stepped outside.

And all the people say

You can't wake up this is not a dream

You're part of the machine,

You are not a human being

With your face all made up,

So you run on gasoline

Hermione strode into the Sheriff's office. Before she could shout for Graham, she heard voices coming from inside his office. Silently stepping forward, Hermione heard Regina's low voice slowly reaching down the hallway.

"I just don't understand what happened, Graham. We had such a good thing going and I want to fix this. After what happened at the mines… I realized just how precious life is."

"Did you?" Graham asked, audibly tense yet also sounding a little amused at the irony of Regina talking about the sanctity of life. "Odd statement coming from you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Regina snapped, her voice losing the gentle persuasion from before.

"Just that you've never given a damn about me before, or about how 'precious life is' in general. You've never cared about anyone but yourself."

Walking closer, Hermione peered through the cracked office door. Graham stood leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his chest. Regina stood tall in front of him, hands clenched into fists at her side.

"I don't know what lies those two have been filling your head with-"

Graham finally seemed to lose his temper. "They're not the ones who filled my head with lies!" Standing up straight, Graham towered over Regina as he stared down at her with rage-filled eyes. "Haven't you figured it out yet, Regina? I remember. I remember everything."

The blood drained from Regina's face. "You remember?" she echoed. "Remember what?"

"Don't play ignorant with me," he warned. "I remember who you truly are. You're the Evil Queen. You stole my heart, you forced me to be your plaything, and you stole the lives of everyone in this town."

Regina forced a laugh. "Don't be ridiculous, Graham. What kind of nonsense is that?"

Reaching out a hand, Graham grabbed Regina around the throat and jerked her forward. "Do not," he repeated softly. "Play ignorant with me." Abruptly, he pushed Regina away with enough force that she fell back against the opposite wall. "I know who I am now. I know what kind of monster you truly are. Once upon a time, I used to have such value for the sanctity of life. Until you came and ripped it out of me.

"You took my heart and tried to force me to become something as warped as you are. But no more. You have no magic in this world, no power. If you come anywhere near me and my family- if you try to lay one hand on Emma or Hermione- I will not hesitate to kill you.

"I am not your pawn, Regina. I am not your slave. You have no more strings on me."

Pulling away from the wall, Regina stared at Graham in horror. "It was you? You were the one who attacked me?"

The bitter smirk that crossed Graham's face seemed wrong to Hermione. It didn't fit him. "If I had been the one to attack you, you would be dead already. I never miss- you know that."

"Why did you save me?" Regina challenged. "Why bother to save me if you hate me so much? If you feel nothing for me but contempt?"

Graham didn't hesitate. "Because that would have been too easy of a death for you, Regina. You deserve to suffer, the way you made me suffer. You did all this because you thought that this world would be what gave you your Happily Ever After. You locked us in a bubble where no one ever dies, and no one ever really lives. But your cage is breaking. One day, everyone here will wake up and not even Snow White will be able to save you then.

"They'll come for you, Regina, and when they do, you'll be alone. No one will lift a finger to help you. No one will save you. No one will care. We may have changed worlds, but the end of your story is still the same."

Regina's eyes filled with rage. "This is still my curse, Huntsman. You remembering doesn't change anything- I'm still the one in control here."

"You are nothing here," Graham spat. "You've always been nothing. A vault full of hearts but, in the end, the only one truly heartless is you. That's why no one loves you- why no one can ever love you."

Hermione eyes widened in shock. She should have seen this- should have anticipated this. Of course, Graham would be angry. Of course, he would want to hurt Regina the way she hurt him. But at what cost? Because Regina had proven that she'd prefer Graham be dead than for him to be happy with someone else and while crushing his heart might have been the easiest way to kill him, it certainly wasn't the only one. The fact that he remembered, the implication that her curse was weakening, would only push Regina further over the edge.

Turning away, Hermione hurried out of the station and strode down the street as fast as she could.

I think there's a flaw

In my code

These voices won't leave me alone

Well my heart is gold

And my hands are cold

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