A/N. This picks up where "Land without Magic" left off.

Unbroken

Chapter 1: "Regina's Coming and Hell's Coming with Her"

Because magic is power.

His ears are burning. It's as if someone is holding a cigarette lighter to the lobes; they're burning to the point of pain. And then his head is flooded with voices, coming from every direction, in every language, pleading, shouting, sobbing, muttering, musing voices, too many to distinguish one from another, a hundred thousand appeals from a hundred thousand souls who don't even know he exists, who are calling out in the hope of being heard by someone who can help. After twenty-nine years of radio silence he can no longer remember how to filter the voices: there are just too many of them, anyway. It was never like this in the old world.

Beneath his protective arm, Belle shudders and brings him back to sanity. He focuses on a thought; the thought becomes a spell, and his hands tingle as magic returns to them. With the spell he gains control over the voices. Hardening his heart, he shuts them all out, even the children's. In all his plans, details upon details, this is one consequence he had missed: he had had no idea that in a land that had never known magic, thousands of souls would yet cry out for it. He wonders if, when his urgent work is done, he will try to help any of those souls, or will he run back home to the Enchanted Forest.

He can't guess. He only knows he will be a far different person then, if indeed he is a person at all.

The thick purple haze rises and fades into the atmosphere. He can see Belle now, stunned and confused. She raises her eyes to him for an explanation. It's not fair to throw so much at her at once, but with a sympathetic squeeze he asks her indulgence—and her trust. Perhaps the kindest thing he could do right now would be to send her back to the old world, but kindness has seldom resided in his bag of tricks. He has a war to start, and he can't go through it without her—Storybrooke can't go through it without her, and so he's justified in keeping her here. For he knows something about Belle that only one other person in Storybrooke knows: she's a warrior. In fact, she's the general who will lead the charge.

So as his first act of magic in twenty-nine years, he gives his general a pair of combat boots.

Her eyebrows shoot up as she examines the boots that have replaced her hospital slippers. The softest, most supple leather, they cradle her feet perfectly—but they are still combat boots. And then he gives her camouflage fatigues, minus, for the moment, the pith helmet.

A giggle of amazement escapes her, but all she says is, "The sleeves are too long."

He wrinkles his nose in apology as he makes the adjustment. "I'm a little rusty."

She watches him expectantly, but there is no time for answers just yet; he must get her to safety. So he raises his hand, calling forth the magic, and he transports them to the last place Regina would expect to find him, all things considered: the convent.

Ever courteous, he knocks first.

Two nuns—he's never bothered to learn their names; he considers their residency on his property only temporary—open the door, and it's a toss up as to which arrival they find more incredible: the young woman in combat fatigues or the despised landlord. From the blank look on their faces, he realizes they're still reeling from the breaking of the curse and the sudden recollection that they are, in actuality, fairies, not nuns. Or perhaps they are both, just as perhaps Belle is both Belle and the Jane Doe hospital patient, just as he is both Rumplestiltskin and Gold.

And then it occurs to him that he left his cane back at the wishing well. And then it occurs to him that he doesn't require it. He catches his reflection in the window glass: from all appearances, he is Gold, although a younger, taller Gold.

Or maybe that last part is just in his imagination.

"Please, may we come in?"

The nuns step aside. When their guests have entered, they close the door. One of them finds her voice. "Mr. Gold, what—what's happened out there?"

The other adds, "We saw this huge dust cloud—it just engulfed everything—"

"A purple cloud, but there was no explosion—"

"I think I'm going crazy. It's like I'm possessed—"

"Me too. Like this spirit took over my body, and suddenly I had all these bizarre ideas—"

One of the sisters clasps a hand to her mouth. "Oh, my stars! Mother Superior is out there—in that!"

He reaches out a comforting hand. "She is fine, I assure you, Sister—"

"Nova."

The other nun steps back in shock. "But your name is Astrid."

Nova shakes her head. "No, and you're not Bernadette; you're Andromeda."

"I'll explain everything, soon. Please, sisters—ladies—allow me first to ask for—" he hesitates. These words never came easily to Rumplestiltskin; and to Mr. Gold they are even more foreign.

"Oh, Mr. Gold, surely you're not asking for the rent at a time like this," Andromeda chastises.

He sputters, "No, no, I'm asking for. . . h-help."

The fairies exchange a glance.

A new voice interrupts. "Of course. You are welcome here, Rumplestiltskin, Belle." Hovering overhead in all her old world finery is the Blue Fairy. She waves her wand and appears before them as Mother Superior.

Her generosity leaves him speechless.

"There will be time for understanding later," she says to the nuns, then to Rumple she adds, "And time for apologizes and forgiveness. But Regina is on the move, and so we must know now, Rumplestiltskin: where do you stand?"

"I've brought magic here so that we will have a fighting chance against Regina."

Mother Superior studies him a moment. "And if we defeat Regina, will you take her place?"

"The magic I've brought is the magic of true love."

The three fairy/nuns stand in shock. Mother Superior whispers, "It's impossible."

"You said that of the curse."

Mother Superior turns to Belle for confirmation, and Belle raises her chin as she grasps Rumple's arm in a gesture of solidarity. "Rumplestiltskin doesn't lie."

Mother Superior runs a nervous hand across her forehead. "No, but he deceives. Yet, if you're telling the truth. . . .Nothing evil can come from that magic."

"And nothing can defeat it."

Astrid repeats the refrain often heard in the old land: "True love is the most powerful magic of all."

But Mother Superior isn't quite ready to believe. "If we defeat Regina—"

"We will," Rumple says simply. "And then I'm going in search of my son."

"And that's all?"

"I want only my family." He glances meaningfully at Belle, and she answers softly, "That's what I want too."

"And the magic?"

"When the time comes, I'll place it with its rightful owner." He places his hand over Belle's. "Magic is a lie. I've come to realize that only love holds true power."

"A pretty speech." Mother Superior draws in a brave breath. "If indeed it's the magic of love you've unleashed, then it won't allow you to misuse it. I don't know that we can trust you." She turns to Belle. "But we can trust you. And it will take all of us to defeat Regina. She's gone back to the old world. It's said that her powers are very weak and limited—for now. If you have unleashed the power of true love, she must have loved and been loved just enough that a shadow of that magic came to her and allowed her to pass to the old world. But she's shopping around for a deal to acquire Dark magic, and when she has it, she will recruit troops. With the promise of complete reign over this shiny new world, they will readily follow her."

"Then it's time for a town meeting." Rumplestiltskin summons his magic, then remembers his manners. "Mother Superior, will you do the honors?"

In pairs or singly, they filter into the town hall, each of them bearing, literally, an engraved invitation. They've scarcely had time to collect their wits, let alone seek out family and friends from the old world, but the magic carried in the invitations compels them to come. Chattering, shouting greetings across the hall to each other, they take seats in the audience. Notably absent are Sidney Glass, Dr. Whale, Jefferson and, of course, Regina.

At the front of the room waits an unfamiliar figure, a young woman in army fatigues; beside her stand Mother Superior and the nuns Astrid and Bernadette—but somehow Storybrooke's townsfolk recognize the nuns as the fairies the Reul Ghorm, Nova and Andromeda. They don't know how they know this, and this makes everyone highly uncomfortable. The mood takes a turn for the worse when three additional figures enter the auditorium from the city council chambers: the dastardly Gold, whom they know also as the powerful imp Rumplestiltskin, and Bart the bartender and Clark the pharmacist, also known as the dwarves Bashful and Sneezy. And now everyone knows who Mr. Gold's "eyes and ears in Storybrooke" have been all these years.

Alarmed, some of the citizens stand, preparing to exit.

And then from the city council chambers emerge four additional figures, and the mood takes a quieter turn: David Nolan, Mary Margaret Blanchard, Henry Mills and Emma Swan. The royal family.

The princess/sheriff, standing before them in her ponytail and Graham's jacket, calls for silence. "Look, we've just been through some really crazy crap. Things are so screwy, who can tell which end is up any more? Believe me, I get that. Of all people, I get that."

Heads nod in sympathy with the princess.

"I wish we had time for explanations—" she looks over her shoulder at the troop standing behind her, and shoots a hard glare at Gold. "And apologies, 'cause some people owe the rest of us, big time. But bottom line is, Regina's coming, she's got magic again, and hell's coming with her. We're gonna have to trust each other." She glares hard at the entire audience. "All of us. Live together or die alone."

Murmurs of protest roll across the audience, like a swelling wave that will any minute flood the room, but Emma sets two fingers in her mouth and whistles, and the protests die. King James picks up the presentation. "With the breaking of the curse, the boundaries between the old world and this one are crumbling. It's now possible to cross them, which means we can go home—but it also means Regina can too, and she has. She's crossed over to round up every evil creature she can find, to bring them here and finish us off. We've got the fight of our lives ahead of us, but we're going to make it through. We have something Regina doesn't." He smiles at Queen Snow and picks up her hand. "We're in this for love."

"I know this is hard; we haven't even had time to reunite with our families," Snow says. "But we have to take the children to a safe place immediately. I'm sorry, but I have to ask that you let your children leave."

On this cue, Jefferson, bearing the hat he has retrieved from Regina's tomb, emerges from the shadows. From the audience, a cry of "papa" arises and a child comes running at him, throwing herself into his open arms. He sweeps her up, kisses her, but he has a most urgent job to do, so he sets her down again, the pain etched in his face. "We have to get the children away right now. I'll take them to a safe haven. When the war is over, I'll bring them back to you, safe and sound."

With a quick hug for his grandparents and a kiss for his mom, Henry comes to Paige's side and takes her hand. Arguments break out in the audience; some parents refuse to be separated from their children. Jefferson assures them that they will be welcome to make the journey too. "And anyone else who can't stay to fight."

One by one, the parents release their children to the hatter's care. A sobbing Ashley separates herself from Sean: she must take the baby to safety, but he will fight. A few other parents and older folks join the exodus. The group is large—over fifty souls—but Jefferson's magic is powerful, having lay dormant for so long, and as goodbyes are shouted, he takes them all through the vortex of the hat.

The crowd falls silent as the hat stops spinning.

Granny breaks the gloom, rising to her feet. "Well? Let's get crackin'. Anybody got a spare crossbow?"

"As it happens. . . ." Rumplestiltskin makes a pushing gesture with his glowing hands, the front doors fly open and a wind whirls into the room. "You won't be fighting weaponless." The wind carries objects—people have to duck their heads to avoid getting struck—dusty old objects that the citizens recognize from the pawn shop—and as the objects fly through the room and, like homing pigeons, locate their owners and float gently into laps, exclamations of recognition break the silence. "My crossbow!" "My beer stein!" "My trumpet!"

And the leaders are not forgotten: the mobile of glass unicorns presents itself to Emma, a sword takes its rightful place in James' hand, a bow and quiver of arrows offer themselves to Snow.

And a chipped cup snuggles itself into Belle's hand.

"These objects carry magic," Rumple explains. "The magic isn't strong, but it will be enough to take you home to the old world, if you wish."

"Yeah, but is it enough to kill witches?" Granny demands.

"It's enough."

"You had this stuff, all this time," Sean addresses Rumple. "You could've wakened us up, given these things back to us years ago; we could've gone home then. Why didn't you?"

Rumple's face grows dark. "Choose: you can cast aspersions or you can cast spells."

Marco rises to address the crowd. "This man is evil. We cannot trust him."

"You're right, Papa."

All heads turn at the familiar voice. From the sidelines appears August in his leather jacket.

Emma's mouth drops open: August is alive—and human. She glances at Rumple questioningly, but the imp shakes his head slightly and points to Mother Superior: her magic, not his, has restored August. And now it's August's turn to run, calling, "Papa!" For Marco recognizes his son and shouts for joy.

"You're right," August addresses the crowd as he clutches his father, "but we're all to blame. If I'd done what I was supposed to, we wouldn't have to be planning a war now. All of us caused this, and all of us have to end it."

"There'll be plenty of time later for blame," Granny growls. "Right now we've got some evil queen booty to kick. So what do we do, Your Majesty?" She turns to James.

James raises his sword and a battle cry sweeps across the room. "We fight!"