A/N: The goal was to get this up for the premiere. Depending on your timezone, I might have accomplished that. Reviews would be hugely appreciated; I went way outside my comfort zone on this fic, and I'd love to know if any of it worked for you.

Ship warning: Please don't let the character selection fool you—Rumbelle is married in this fic, but my muse apparently had an ax to grind with that pair, so it's not smooth sailing for that ship in this story.

A HUGE THANKS to my most fantastic beta, the amazing Miss Poisonous, who not only improved this story as to make it nearly unrecognizable from its painful first draft, but whose skill and brutality with a red-hot poker ensured that draft was written in the first place (my muse still has the scars). Miss P., thanks for being you, and beta-ing your work makes mine better. MWAH!

And now, on with the show! This ignores everything after "Kansas." I hope you enjoy it!

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"I love you, Henry. And I am never letting you go ever again," Regina said, placing a kiss on his forehead.

And the ripples of bright magic surprised no one more than Regina herself.

-Four months later-

Robin stole another quick kiss from Regina's lips as he taped the seventh box closed, and Regina swatted his bicep in mock-irritation. "Dear, if you keep doing that, we're never going to get this done," she scolded.

Robin smirked, deepening the dimples he knew she loved, and replied, "Well, milady, I've been a thief for so long—you can hardly expect me to go honorable overnight." He pulled her body into his. "And," he continued, his voice now a low rumble in her ear, "I rather think you don't want me to."

The retort died on her lips as he captured them in a deep, thorough kiss that banished any thought of honor in favor of more pleasurable pursuits. Only once their need for oxygen became dire did Robin pull away. "Besides, we would already have this packing done if you'd allowed my men to help us," he said.

Regina sighed. "Your men are helping us," she said with exaggerated patience. "They are watching Henry and Roland all day so that we can pack and organize uninterrupted."

Robin shook his head, bemused at his love's assessment. He's spent so long living communally that her fierce independence excited him and frustrated him in equal measure. "We could have let them help with the kitchen."

"Or you could have let me use magic," Regina replied.

"You know I don't like it," Robin said.

"And you know I don't like other people in my home or going through my things," she shot back. "And you wouldn't like it if something in this house turned one of your Merry Men into a Merry Mouse. You may recall that I did spend several decades as a dangerous sorceress. One accumulates certain types of items in that line of work," Regina commented blithely.

"And yet, you're allowing me to help," Robin pointed out.

"You consider this constant interruption help?" Regina challenged with a raised eyebrow. "Besides, you insisted, so it's your own fault if you get transmorphed into a rodent," she stated.

Robin chuckled and pressed his lips to her cheekbone. "Your concern is truly touching, milady," he smiled into her skin.

Despite herself, Regina mirrored his teasing smile, and she shook her head in pleased disbelief. He was incorrigible. And silly. And beautiful. And good. And hers. Even now, months after Zelena's defeat, she still couldn't believe her luck. Henry had asked to move back into his room, and it hadn't been long before Robin and Roland had moved in as well. When she broke Pan's curse, she'd been certain she was sentencing herself to a life of isolation. Yet, somehow, she had her son back, another little boy who loved to receive her love, and this wonderful man who wanted to be with her and never tired of showing her how much.

Her face must have conveyed her wonder because he brushed his thumb gently across her cheek. "What's the matter, my love?" he asked.

She shook her head and smiled. "Nothing," she replied. "Absolutely nothing."

Robin soaked in the dazzling, genuine smile on Regina's face. It was an expression he'd never seen in the Enchanted Forest, and he never tired of giving her reason to wear it here in this land. He'd vowed—to himself, though not to her (she wouldn't let him)—to spend all his days giving her cause to smile that truly.

"Do you want to bring these?" Belle asked skeptically, examining the slightly disturbing, overly cheerful clown-shaped salt and pepper shakers.

"No," Rumple said with an emphatic shake of his head and his usual guarded expression.

Belle shrugged and gently set the creepy clown spice holders aside. She knew better than to be careless with objects in Rumple's shop, especially objects shaped like people. You never knew who they might be.

"Isn't this exciting?" Belle said happily as she continued to sort through the knick-knacks in the mahogany dresser. "We're finally going to start a proper life together. And to start it in New York City—I can think of no more perfect place. Bae loved it, and it's where you found him. It's like he's watching over us. And I can't believe that Regina and Emma were able to get me a job at the New York Public Library! I still don't understand what kind of magic 'hacking' is, but Emma told me not to worry about it. Did you know the New York Public Library has over fifty-five million items in its collections?"

"Yes, Belle, I did," Rumple said with an indulgent expression. "You've told me every day this week."

"I suppose I have," Belle said. "But you can hardly blame me. It's been decades since I've set foot in a proper library, and you know how I love books." She beamed at him, set down the crystal ballerina she'd just unearthed from the dresser, and crossed the shop to stand in front of him. Placing her hand over his heart, she said in a voice full of love and validated hope, "I am so proud of you. I always knew you had it in you to choose love over power. This is what Bae would have wanted for you. He would have wanted you to become the kind of man he could trust with his son. The kind of man who would abandon magic for his family." She leaned forward on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips, like a seal on her words.

Belle's words caught like sandpaper on his still-grieving soul, but Rumple focused on the feel of her soft lips and swore that he wouldn't lose her like he lost Bae. He would protect Belle; no physical harm would befall her. She would be safe. And they would get their happy ending.

Even if villains weren't supposed to get them.

"Back already?" Regina called from her office when she heard the front door of their house open. She hadn't expected Robin back so soon. He'd gone into town to buy more packaging tape, and she'd been certain that he wouldn't be able to resist picking up some carryout from Granny's. She ran a dirty hand across the bandana tying her hair back and huffed in amusement. If only her royal subjects could see her now—the mighty Evil Queen in jeans, a tank top, and sneakers, coated in dust and a thin layer of sweat, dwarfed by stacks of cardboard boxes. She'd be unrecognizable, she thought with a mix of hope and fear. Maybe she could leave that woman behind her . . . .

She used her magic to stack a couple of the heavier boxes. It was cheating, she knew, and she'd been trying to minimize her use of magic in preparation for the move . . . but the knot of anxiety in her chest loosened a bit as the magic reminded her of her power. She was powerful, and she could control things other people couldn't. At least in Storybrooke.

"Afraid it's just me, dearie," she heard the familiar inflection of her—her what, exactly? 'Teacher' was too benign. And 'mentor' implied that he'd actually helped her, improved her life. But he'd certainly held some role, an important one. 'Corrupter,' perhaps.

"Leave, Rumple," she said, straightening her posture. Robin had only made a few requests when he and Roland had moved in with her and Henry, but one of his conditions had been that Rumplestiltskin would not be welcome in their home. He didn't want the Dark One anywhere near his son. And, while Regina was fairly certain Rumple would never hurt Roland, she respected Robin's perspective.

And she didn't want the imp there either.

Rumple took a few steps farther into the room, enjoying the way his protégé bristled at the intrusion. "Why, Your Majesty," he said in his characteristic smooth, taunting tone, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were avoiding me."

Regina huffed in disdain. "On the contrary, Rumple. I don't care enough about you to avoid you. I have better things to do with my time than deal with you," she replied. "Now get out."

Rumple surveyed the room, picking a paperweight from an unsealed box, examining it, and putting it back in its place. He could feel her hackles rise without even looking at her, and he had to suppress a satisfied smile. Goading Regina always had the comforting effect of centering his universe. "You really believe you are going to do this?" he asked. "Do you really think that you can pack up your newly acquired family and leave all of this behind? That you—you can live without magic?"

"Yes," Regina said evenly, but without conviction. She hated that he was in her house. She hated that he, as usual, was completely ignoring what she wanted. She hated that she couldn't make him leave; a magical showdown with Rumple would be a great way to destroy her property instead of packing it.

"Now, dearie," Rumple said, walking toward her as he spoke. "We both know that's not true. You love it too much—the power, the control. You crave it."

When he stopped a mere arm's length in front of her, she replied, "What I love is Henry," she declared. And Robin. And Roland. But she didn't need to acknowledge that to Rumple. Her insides were twisting, churning her anxieties and insecurities with renewed vigor. He could play the notes of her most painful fears with callous ease. But she'd be damned if she let him see that. Dismissive, Evil Queen mask firmly in place, she said, "But I can't really expect you to understand what love is, can I? You're just the Dark One." Then she pulled out her cell phone. She might not be able to make him leave, but she knew someone who could.

"Calling your thief?" Rumple asked. "Want to make sure he hasn't remembered who you really are and left you for someone with a lower body count? A serial killer, perhaps? Because it's only a matter of time, you know," he taunted. "No one will ever truly forget your crimes, Your Majesty. Your past, who you are, is always going to chase people away, eventually." He saw the stiffening of her shoulders as she scrolled through her phone. He'd gotten her. He'd known he would.

She was his monster, after all.

"I'm calling Belle to ask her to make you leave," she said, concealing the direct hits his barbs struck and enjoying his start of alarm at her response. "What?" she continued, "You didn't think I'd give her your dagger without exchanging cell phone numbers, did you?"

But Rumple's mind was no longer on their verbal gouging match, his eyes slightly unfocused in an expression of total preoccupation. Regina knew that look. She could practically hear his mind humming, desperately whirring to solve a problem. And then her lips curled upward in a smile of delicious, malevolent victory so reminiscent of the Evil Queen that any observer would have sworn her lipstick was blood red rather than sweet plum.

Regina laughed vindictively, thumb hovering over the call button. "She doesn't have your dagger, does she?" she asked gleefully. "And she doesn't know that she doesn't have it," the queen concluded with a disbelieving and disgustedly amused shake of her head. "That is horrible and conniving, Rumple, even for you."

"It's for her protection," Rumple explained.

Regina snorted. "So you won't mind if I tell her, then? Since you're protecting her."

"You don't need to do that," Rumple said.

"Oh, I think I do," Regina replied, savoring the power she had over him.

"Don't tell her," he requested.

"You'll have to do better than that, Rumple," Regina said.

"Please," he added.

Regina arched an eyebrow in surprise. She'd always thought she'd see Snow leave Charming for all seven of those dwarves before she'd ever hear that word 'please' from Rumple's mouth. The flicker of irritation she felt toward her former mentor flared into a fierce, angry flame. She loathed the man in front of her. He'd used that simple, innocuous word to take her free will. For twenty-eight years. After watching her desperately grasp for freedom during the existence mockingly known as her life in the Enchanted Forest.

Yes. She loathed him.

And owed him everything. She never would have escaped her mother—or Leopold—without him, and while Regina knew that he'd hardly acted from altruism, a certain corner of her soul continued to blaze with gratitude for her savior-imp.

She resented it.

So she indulged in memorizing how beautifully pathetic her corrupter looked with poorly-concealed desperation etched on his features. "Oh, I won't tell her," she finally assured him in a tone full of false friendliness. "But you are going to get the hell out of my house, and you are going to leave me and my family alone. For good."

"You have a deal," Rumple replied, relief releasing the pressure from his chest. Those were easy enough terms, and, sooner or later, Regina would seek him out. She always did.

"Oh, this isn't a deal," Regina clarified. "This is me, holding something over your head, until I decide I'd like to destroy you with it."

Rumple paled slightly and then replied in a cajoling tone, "Oh, come now, Your Majesty, what's a deal between friends?" He wanted this to be a deal. He needed his deals. And deals with her, well, those were his favorite kind. Watching her work her way from a tight spot was always a source of both amusement and professional pride. Zelena was the sister with more magic, but Regina was the sister with more passion. Where Zelena fawned, Regina clawed; she was fascinating in every way.

Regina scoffed. "We are not friends, though you would confuse a relationship of mortal enemies with one of friendship," she said. "And I am done making deals with you. Get out," she said, finality in her tone.

He lifted his hands in a gesture of mock surrender and began to back away. "As you wish, Your Majesty," he said, hiding a smile from his face. She may have the fake dagger over him, but he'd gotten what he came for. Her expression was dark and threatening, just the way he remembered her. Just the way he liked her.

"I would say that I'd see you in New York," Regina said lightly as he reached the exit of her office, "But we both know that you are too much of a coward to go. Poor Belle, she always held out so much hope for you. Do enjoy the darkness, Rumple. Soon, it will be all you have left. Again."

And all you'll have is an empty heart and a chipped cup.

Rumple repressed an angry smile as he turned to look at the Queen over his shoulder, "Oh, you and I both know that I'll never be alone in the darkness," he sneered back. "Not as long as you walk this earth. Don't let the light magic go to your head, dearie. You belong to the dark. And once your Prince of Thieves wakes up and realizes that he's lying next to a royal, sociopathic war criminal—to everything he's always fought against—he's going to leave you and take his son with him. And you'll be alone. Because Henry will forget about you—again—as soon as you get to New York. He'll go running back to Emma, the mother who, like him, actually belongs in this world. And then, Your Majesty, you'll be finished with your detour to the side of 'light' and be right back here, in the darkness. Where you belong."

We're back where we belong. Together.

Rumple closed the front door behind him, and Regina released a slow breath, attempting to control the tumult of feelings inside her. She hated that he always knew just which knife to twist. She hated that he knew so much about her. She hated that her victory over him felt so empty. She hated that, however much she hated him, she still knew that he was right more often than not.

Maybe this move to New York was a huge mistake. Robin would wake up one day, the heady feeling of new love faded, and her beauty would no longer be enough to compensate for her past, and—soulmate or not—he would leave her. He was a good man, and a good father. A father that wouldn't want his son spending time with someone who'd committed even a handful of her thousand atrocities. And a good man who wouldn't be able to stomach loving an evil queen.

She loved that about him.

She sighed. Maybe she should start unpacking.

"Regina," Robin called as he closed the front door, "Where are you, my love?"

"Up here," she replied with an involuntary smile that widened when she felt his chest mold against her back, his arms slide around her waist, and his lips press against her neck.

"Hello," he murmured into her ear, dropping another kiss onto her cheekbone and holding her closer.

She smiled and turned her face into his, nudging his nose playfully and kissing him soundly on the mouth in greeting.

He hummed deep in his throat in satisfaction and consideration. "Milady," he said, "Not that I'm questioning your methods, which I would never presume to do." They shared a smirk—he loved to question her, she loved the challenge, and they both knew it. "But, why are we standing in the doorway of Henry's nearly-packed room instead of packing one of the many rooms that still needs attention?" He spoke lightly, but watched her closely. Something was off. She wasn't angry with him, and she wasn't guilt-stricken or full-blown melancholy, but she was . . . off.

"He loved me," she said, staring at Henry's empty bed. "He loved me until he didn't. And then he hated me. And then he called me evil. And then he ran away to Emma. He hated me. But first—at first—he loved me."

"And he loves you now," Robin said carefully. Often, he could read Regina like an open book. Other times, like now, all he could tell was that he was missing something. Something important.

Regina hummed in non-committal agreement.

"Regina, dearest," Robin said, holding her close, "Did something happen while I was gone?"

"Nothing of importance," she replied, leaning her head back against his chest. The lie came smoothly, automatically. She didn't know why she lied. The deflection had left her mouth before her brain even considered his question. Years of having her meetings with Rumplestiltskin as the only piece of her life that truly belonged to her had conditioned her to protect their association with a silent, fierce greed.

But it wasn't important. Rumple wasn't important. Not anymore. That part of her life was over. She had her freedom. She had a future filled with it. It was time to move forward.

Robin pressed his lips against Regina's temple, sifting her words to find their meaning. Something had happened, and she didn't want to talk about it. And this was not the moment to push the subject, so he let it go, for now. "I ran into David at Granny's," he noted a quirk of a smile on her face, undoubtedly amused that he stopped by Granny's for take-out, "And he said that Snow and Blue finally settled on the proper ceremonial language for your and Emma's abdications. He suggested we come over, with the boys, for dinner tonight. Everyone can visit, and you can get that taken care of."

She nodded. It was about time. She couldn't wait to be rid of her cursed title of queen (even if a small piece of her soul did resent giving it to her spoilt step-daughter). "If that horrid moth is going to be there, is Tink at least going to be there as well?" she asked.

Robin chuckled. He'd yet to learn the history of why Regina hated Blue so fiercely, but he didn't blame her. The Fairy-Nun was too officious and condescending for his taste—and he was in love with a retired evil queen. "I'm sure Snow would support you inviting her," he answered. "Besides, isn't each party in this land entitled to a lawyer? Doesn't that mean that each of you should have your own fairy?"

Regina pivoted in his arms, and her smile reached her eyes. "Definitely," she agreed. She loved him so much. He was kind and smart and good. And for some reason, he loved her. She stretched onto her toes to kiss him, sliding up the length of his body and wrapping her arms around his neck. She deepened the kiss, eager to feel as much of him as possible, and felt a flash of ridiculous irritation that he was too tall to kiss comfortably. In moments like these, she missed her heels.

Robin clutched her to him, kissing her thoroughly. "I had no idea you felt so strongly about proper fairy representation," he quipped when they broke for air.

She smacked his chest playfully, before pulling his head down to her once more. The Merry Men had promised to watch the boys until five, and she planned to make good use of that time. She felt Robin lift her from the ground, and she smiled broadly as she wrapped her legs around his waist and felt him nip at the pulse point on her neck. Maybe heels weren't so important after all.

The loft was full to bursting. Somehow their little family get-together had morphed into a party with half the town's population. Leave it to David's big heart to invite everyone he'd run into during the day. Snow shook her head in amusement and smiled as she watched him enfold their daughter in a bear hug. As much as it hurt her that her little (grown) girl was leaving her again, she was also brimming with gratitude. Even though Emma would be in New York—along with Henry, Regina, Robin, Roland, Rumplestiltskin, and Belle (sometimes it felt like she and Charming were the only two people staying in Storybrooke)—her family felt more together than it had ever been.

"You should stir that or it's going to congeal," Regina stated, inspecting the cheese dip Snow was preparing.

Snow stirred as instructed, certain her heart would overflow. It had required multiple decades, murders, and realms, but she and the woman beside her were finally family. This truth went mostly unspoken, but it was understood. During Zelena's siege of terror, Regina, always a woman of action despite her sharp wit, had made it clear that Snow, Charming, and baby Neal were under her protection. To the death. And Snow knew it wasn't only for Henry's sake, just as she knew that 'to the death' was likely when her step-mother would be willing to admit that.

Yes, it had taken many realms.

"Are you unclear on the concept of stirring, dear?" Regina chided. "Here," she said, taking the spoon from Snow and exaggeratedly demonstrating. "Like this," she said, giving the cheese a couple firm turns before handing the spoon back to Snow.

"Thank you," Snow smiled. For coming back to me.

"You're welcome," Regina replied. "Though how you manage to feed your family when you can't properly stir melted cheese, I'll never understand."

Snow snorted. "My culinary skills lean more toward the foraging than the cooking," she replied—she was good at some things—"But maybe you could teach me a dish or two when you visit each month?" she asked, hoping her voice disguised her nerves. She and Regina had been getting along, and they made quite the formidable team in dealing with some of the trickier political situations that had arisen around town (Midas and George, to name a couple), but there was still a formality about their relationship that felt like a barrier. They could fight the forces of destruction, but they couldn't grab a cup of coffee.

And that's what Snow wanted. She wanted a relationship with Regina. She had wanted one since that beautiful, strong, warm young woman had saved her from fatally falling off her horse.

She'd always admired Regina (even when she hated her), and she'd always feared her rejection (somehow the Wanted posters hadn't felt like rejection—it's hard to feel rejected when you're someone else's obsession). And so, it shouldn't have surprised her that she found herself holding her breath, awaiting her step-mother's answer.

"I suppose," Regina said. "Provided you allow me to use magic to save us all should you accidentally set the loft on fire."

"I am not that bad!" Snow protested.

"Umm, yes you are," Henry interjected, appearing by Regina's side and smiling in response to his mother's smirk and her arm around his shoulders.

Snow huffed. "Fine," she conceded. "If I accidentally burn the loft down, you can use your magic to save us. Though," she added in a disgruntled mumble, "your magic seems far more useful for starting fires than putting them out."

Regina lifted an eyebrow in amusement and flicked her wrist, lighting the candles on Granny's sheet cake, extinguishing them, and lighting them again.

Snow glared, without feeling, and Henry guffawed.

"Whatever you say, dear," Regina said, smirking and removing Snow's nearly-burning casserole from the oven.

Hearing a knock at the door, Snow said, "I'm going to answer that. Maybe whoever that is will appreciate me more."

"Hello!" Snow greeted brightly, opening the door to Rumplestiltskin and Belle.

"Hello," Belle replied, throwing her arms around Snow with startling, exuberant joy.

Snow met Rumplestiltskin's eyes over Belle's shoulder, who gave a small shrug in answer to her unasked question. "She's excited for the move," he explained.

"Ah," Snow replied, as the little librarian finally loosened her grip. "Well, come in," she encouraged, accepting a bottle of wine from Belle, who then made her way to where Ruby was holding baby Neal.

Snow watched her coo over her son with a smile on her face and turned her eyes to Rumple, whose attention was similarly engaged. She had personally experienced the life-altering power of True Love, but the Dark One as a doting husband was almost more than even her generous, hopeful heart could swallow.

"I still don't get it," Snow said.

"Pardon?" Rumplestiltskin asked.

Snow's eyes widened. Had she said that out loud? "Oh, um, nothing. Just thinking that Charming and I still need to get you and Belle a wedding gift."

The corners of Rumplestiltskin's mouth slanted upward and his eyes showed that disconcertingly familiar expression of amusement at her plight, like he'd known exactly what she'd been thinking. "It's quite all right," he said, ignoring the princess's poor attempted recovery from her faux pas. "I don't understand how I got so lucky myself. She is the best of me."

Snow nodded mutely, uncertain whether she was more stunned that she hadn't been turned into a snail or that Rumplestiltskin had a dashing, romantic streak. Desperately requiring something to do to prevent her from speaking impulsively again, she took his and Belle's coats.

After placing their coats securely on a hook, she was surprised to see that he hadn't followed Belle, and his eyes were no longer trained on the librarian. They were locked on Regina, who was across the loft chatting with Robin and Granny. And his expression . . . Snow couldn't quite place it. But his look was intent. With an undercurrent of . . . something. Something that made Snow's gut clench.

And, as if she felt the imposition of his gaze, Regina looked over and met Rumple's eyes, and her face briefly transformed into the mask of the Evil Queen. Her eyes held a challenge, her lips formed her iconic smirk, and she lifted an eyebrow in a silent, unmistakable sign of gloating victory. The hairs on the back of Snow's neck stood up.

And then the moment was over. Rumplestiltskin's manner relaxed, and he walked to Belle's side. The Evil Queen expression dissipated from Regina's face, and Snow stood, wondering what she'd just witnessed. She fought to wipe the perplexity from her expression when she caught the gaze of the other observer to the silent exchange between the magic-wielders. Robin Hood, from his position next to Regina, was cataloguing the look on Snow's face while his eyes flitted between the woman beside him and the pawn broker across the room. His arm was around Regina's waist, his hand resting on her hip. The posture wasn't possessive; it was a clear, but unobtrusive, show of support. Snow gave him a cautious smile and then went in search of her husband. Whatever was brewing, she'd find it easier to handle with him by her side.

He couldn't stop touching her. The small of her back. The crook of her elbow. A lock of hair behind her ear.

Which inevitably drew his attention to the column of her neck.

He swallowed hard. Good god, they'd so thoroughly indulged in each other that afternoon that he'd conceded to her using magic to pack the remainder of her office, unable to explain to Regina how he would explain to Henry how they'd gotten so little done in the course of an entire day.

And now that he's seen her perform magic completely naked, he can't remember why he objected to it so much. Translucent purple was a great color on her.

"How's the packing coming?" Granny asked, and he nearly choked on his drink. He knew the older woman was a werewolf, but she couldn't see his thoughts too, could she?

"Yes, Robin," Regina asked wickedly, "How is the packing coming?"

Robin met her dancing eyes and felt he could endure a lifetime of teasing if it meant she would always be this happy. A schoolboy. He was an utter sop of a schoolboy. And he loved it.

He was enthralled.

But he wasn't going to let her have the last laugh. "Oh, it's going much better now that Regina has started helping," he answered Granny with a long-suffering air.

Regina scoffed and lifted her arm to hit him in the chest, but Robin caught her fist in his hand and held tight as she tried to wrench it away. After a brief tugging match, observed by an amused Granny, they relaxed their grips, interlaced their fingers, and gave the other's hand a brief, loving squeeze, dropping their joined hands to their sides.

"Well, at least you don't have to pack the entire house," Granny said, entertained by the besotted, strong-willed couple in front of her. She was still shocked at how natural it seemed to view the sparkling woman in front of her as something like a friend when, only a few short months ago, Granny had been ready to put a crossbow bolt between her eyes, certain that the new curse and missing year had been the queen's nefarious plot.

"And yet, it feels like we are," Robin teased, earning an exasperated eye roll from Regina.

"You know not all of it is coming with us," Regina said.

Robin chuckled and kissed her hand. He did know. They'd discussed it plenty. They were, for all intents and purposes, sanitizing the mansion. Regina would place additional protective enchantments around it to keep people from breaking in, but it would be foolish to rely on those alone. After all, someone setting fire to the house is what had finalized their decision to move out of Storybrooke. (No one had been hurt and very little had been damaged, fortunately for the perpetrator. Robin was proud of Regina for curbing her homicidal tendencies, but, if someone had hurt their boys, she'd have to fight him for the privilege of executing the bastard.) The sad truth was that, despite Regina's instrumental role in defeating Zelena, many of Storybrooke's citizens held personal vendettas against the Evil Queen, and the past few months had seen multiple attempts on Regina's life.

So they were methodically working their way through the house making sure that any items of sentimental value were coming with them and any items of magical value were stored, hidden, or destroyed before they left Storybrooke.

"And have you found a place to live?" Granny asked.

"We have," Robin replied. "Regina found us a beautiful . . . brownrock? Is that what it's called?"

Regina smiled and answered, "Brownstone, dear."

"Brownstone," Robin repeated with a deep, dimpled smile for her. Returning his attention to Granny, he continued, "It has four bedrooms, so each of the boys can have his own room with a spare for guests, and it's right by Central Park. We also have our own garden and roof access."

"Sounds just like Sherwood Forest," Granny said.

"It's not, you know," Regina spoke quietly to Robin, her worry about taking her woodsman to the big city resurfacing.

"I know, my love," Robin replied, shooting an apologetic smile to Granny as he took Regina aside. "We've talked about this. One year in New York City. One year for Henry to finish middle school. One year for you and Emma to both take a break from this town and everything that it and the people here represent. Milady, I know that you are strong and capable, but Storybrooke is fraught with enemies, and I would trade all the forests in the realm for your safety and that of our family. Let me brave this world's wilderness—with you—and we can re-evaluate in one year's time."

Regina smiled, holding the tears in her eyes, marveling at how he loved her so.

"This gives our family its best chance," Robin said.

Regina squeezed his hand firmly, knowing he understood the words she couldn't say, before her attention was drawn to the door. "Tink's here," she said, sliding her hand from his to move toward the door.

Robin watched her walk across the room and accept Tinkerbell's hug, and he smiled, proud of the redeemed queen who was brave enough to make a friend. Not to say that their friendship was always easy—those two women could snipe at each other more fiercely than angry snakes, but when the verbal spars passed, they were always by each other's side.

Regina caught Robin's gaze and gave him a sly wink as she and Tink walked, not so subtly, away from Blue. Robin smirked. That was Regina—subtle.

And his smirk grew into a grin when he observed Regina corralling the fairies, Emma, and Snow around the table to address the business purpose of the night's festivities. Then, with an abrupt seriousness of purpose that jarred against the previous joviality of the gathering, Snow, Emma, and Regina sat in the three chairs facing the rest of the room and began carefully reading contracts provided by the fairies.

The scene was striking. All three women—even Emma—held themselves with the same compelling, regal posture and wore identical expressions of intense concentration.

"Spooky," Ruby said, appearing next to Granny, who lifted her eyebrows in silent agreement.

"Yes it is," Robin said with a hint of pride. He knew, even if Regina would never acknowledge it, who had taught Snow White to be Queen.

After a few moments, he saw Regina speak to Emma, who then consulted with her mother. The room was thick with the weight of import as the three women solidified their understanding, motioned the fairies over, and simultaneously signed their contracts. Blue then signed Snow's and Emma's, and Tink signed Regina's. Nova then signed and sealed all three documents.

"Woah," Emma said quietly, clearly reacting to something unseen, but physical—the fairy's royalty magic. It pulsed through the room with the force, but not the warmth, of True Love's Kiss, and caused Emma, Regina, and Snow to momentarily blaze blue light before that light seemed to evaporate away from Emma and Regina to absorb deeply underneath Snow's skin.

"Indeed, Miss Swan," Regina said, as she gave Snow a reassuring smile before suddenly standing and striding quickly out of the loft.

Several people exchanged concerned glances at the abrupt departure of the former Evil Queen, so Robin spoke, "I'm certain she just wanted some fresh air. We'll be right back." He looked around the room and saw Roland chattering happily to a kind David. "Roland," Robin said, reaching the pair at the same time as Snow. "Mind your sister until Regina and I get back, all right?"

"Yes, Papa," Roland said, putting his hand in a startled Snow's.

Robin gave the gaping king and queen a wink, clapped David on the shoulder, and left to follow Regina.

It didn't take long for him to find her in the alley behind Snow and Charming's apartment building. And he felt tangible relief at the sight of her. He wasn't certain what he'd been expecting, but the vision of Regina hovering two stories off the ground, illuminated by a bright white light that seemed to radiate from her soul, was not it. She wore the most beautiful smile and laughed joyfully as small sparks shot from her fingertips.

"I'm sorry, Robin," she called down when she saw him, indicating her obvious use of magic. "I can't help it. I know I warned you that the fairies would use magic and that it might interact with mine, but I didn't know it would be this extreme."

"No need to apologize, my love," Robin replied, grateful for her joy. He knew Regina was happy in their life together with their boys, but, every so often, he would see a particular shadow in her eyes or rigidity in her stance, and he knew she was back There, in her life as queen. Maybe now she could finally be free of it. "Forgive my ignorance, milady, but is this change in your elevation permanent or do you suppose I'll be able to hold you again sometime soon?"

"It's temporary," Regina assured him with a bright smile.

"Thank heavens for that," Robin said. "Not that I begrudge you the experience of flying, but I would rather miss you down here by myself."

"Don't worry," Regina replied. "I'll be back on solid ground soon. This is merely a fluke of magic."

"Do I want to know?" Robin asked. Loving Regina had had the strange effect of improving and deteriorating his relationship with magic. He hated that it was an instrument of her corruption, but he now appreciated that it was a mere tool; the caster determined whether it was good or bad.

Regina felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment. "I'm just really happy," she said.

"That sounds lovely," Robin told her genuinely.

The heat in her cheeks increased. "It is," she said quietly. Then, with force of will and focus, she floated to the ground. She wanted to explain it to him—why she was so happy, why she had forgotten she could be this happy—and she wanted to explain it face to face, not shouting down to him. Upon landing lightly in front of him, she took his hands into her own and prepared herself to share a chapter of her life that, until now, had remained unspoken.

"Royalty in our land was not just a right; it was an obligation," she began impersonally; she wanted him to know, but she didn't want to upset him. "A literal obligation placed upon royals by their land and then enforced by the magic of the fairies. Emma, for example, was 'blessed' by Blue before she was even born, magically binding her to the land, tying her fate to its health."

"What do you mean? If the kingdom suffered a drought, Emma would get sick?" Robin asked.

"Exactly," Regina answered.

"That's barbaric," Robin said.

Regina nodded. "Yes, yes it is. I think the royalty binding magic is why King George and his wife couldn't conceive. He never took the binding magic seriously, and his greed outstripped his good sense. He depleted his kingdom's resources—that's why he was desperate for Midas's gold—and the land took its revenge."

"Why didn't he abdicate, then?" Robin asked.

"Besides power-hungry ignorance?" Regina scoffed. "A monarch cannot abdicate, cannot be released from that magic, as long as he or she is in the Enchanted Forest. The magic enforces the exile of dethroned monarchs. If you refuse to lead, refuse to care for the land, then the land revokes your right to live on it. Tonight's ceremony was only possible because we are realms away from the kingdom, weakening the land's hold on us."

Robin felt his chest tightening. He understood that Regina was free of this evil magic, but dread seemed to thicken the air he tried to breathe. "But you weren't born royal," he stated, the unasked 'So when was this inflicted upon you?' hanging in the air.

"No, I wasn't. After the public ritual of marriage was performed, I was coronated privately. Only Leopold, the court executor, the court mage, and I attended. Blue officiated." Regina's odd, inflectionless tone had Robin's fingers itching for his bow. "Before the crown was placed on my head, Blue bequeathed upon me 'The Blessing of the Land.' It was unpleasant. I passed out. When I came to, Leopold was looking at me as though I was a dangerous, foreign creature; any affection he might have had for me had already disappeared. The only creature in that room that wasn't scared of me was Blue. And hers was no expression of friendship, but of suspicion." Regina's posture was rigid, and tears pricked in the back of her eyes. That had hurt. So much. She could still feel her blood trying to burst from her veins, her body, trying to get away from the invasive, permanent magic.

"And now it's gone." she said, her face breaking into a painfully wide smile. "That foreign magic is finally gone. It's been so many years; I'd forgotten what it felt like not to be bound by those chaffing cords. I'd forgotten they weren't part of me. I'm finally free."

Robin forced himself to return her smile, even though his insides churned with the need to tear apart every single person, dead or alive, that had any part in this clear torment of Regina. "And now that you've been released from that 'magical obligation,' you can fly?" he asked with deliberate lightness. He could only hope that Regina's answer could sufficiently distract him from marching back into the loft and snap the Blue Fairy's neck himself, laws and witnesses be damned.

"Not exactly," Regina replied with a cheeky smile as she allowed herself to float back into the air, pulling Robin with her.

"Really, Regina, I can wait for you on the ground," he protested as they rose two stories from the ground.

"You wouldn't be nervous about a little height now, would you?" she teased.

"Not so much the height as the possibility of falling toward grievous injury or death," Robin replied.

"Well, fortunately for you, I will not allow you to fall, so stop worrying and enjoy being light with me," she directed, determined not to let her hideous past darken her present.

"Forgive my impertinence, milady, but if your magic doesn't 'exactly' allow you to fly, then how is this possible?" he asked, still somewhat anxious.

"Tink's idea of an Abdication Party joke, I think," Regina replied.

"Ah, pixie dust," Robin said, becoming slightly more comfortable with the distance between his feet and solid ground. Pixie dust had led Regina to him. Any magic that played a part in bringing them together was good in his book.

"Precisely," Regina confirmed. "Just a pinch of it though—she probably expected me to hover no more than a few inches and for only a couple minutes, since pixie dust is rarely able to make adults fly when they aren't with a fairy."

Robin's shoulders remained tense, and she smiled gently at his continued nervousness, releasing one of his hands in order to guide his face toward her, rather than the ground. He felt the last of his anxiety melt away as he looked at her instead of the pavement; she was luminous.

"So that's why you bolted, you didn't want to fly in public?" Robin asked.

"One of the reasons—I can't give Tink the satisfaction, obviously," Regina smirked.

"And the other reason?" he prompted.

"I just wanted to enjoy this feeling, this lightness, without the skepticism or judgment of people who will never truly trust me," she replied overly simply.

Robin nodded, comprehending, even though he knew he couldn't understand. Even as an outlaw, he'd always inspired trust and loyalty. Wherever he went, people gave him the benefit of the doubt—one of the talents that made him such a successful thief—but Regina lived in a different world. Among some of these people, her past would always haunt her. It didn't matter how many times she saved their lives, (at catastrophic risk to herself); she would always be The Evil Queen—someone to distrust and fear.

"Besides, everyone knows that flying is more fun outside," she said playfully. "And now we are doing something that is supposed to be impossible," she continued, smug satisfaction in her voice. "Two adults flying and zero fairy supervision."

She let out a light, unencumbered laugh, and Robin delighted in the sound. He was overcome with the familiar desire to keep her happy forever. "Regina," he asked, a hint of challenge to his tone. "Have two adults ever danced in the air?"

"It should be impossible," she replied with a shake of her head.

"Well, as we've already thwarted one impossibility by hovering up here, what do you say to thwarting another?" he asked in his endearingly cocky manner.

Her brilliant smile was all the reply he required as he pulled her smoothly into a waltz.

Flickering light drew his attention. It was faint, but it was irregular and persistent, so Rumplestiltskin stepped away from Belle's side where she'd been questioning Nova on the differences between fairy practices and traditions in the Enchanted Forest compared to those in Storybrooke. Pulling back the curtain, the Dark One was presented with a sight not even his soothsaying had prepared him for: his Evil Queen alight with pixie dust and light magic dancing to the tune of her own Happily Ever After.

He watched as the Outlaw Prince held Regina like a precious, cherished object and looked at her as though she'd never so much as had an unkind thought, let alone cast a dark curse on thousands of people in order to hurt one spoiled princess.

Regina. His monster.

He didn't recognize her.

She gazed into the thief's face with an expression of complete trust and joy that he'd never before seen on her. And her hold on Robin Hood was firm, but not grasping. The queen believed the man would choose to stay.

Something twisted in his gut.

"It looks like she's found her happy ending," Belle commented from over his shoulder. When had she gotten there?

"Yes, yes it does," he said, deliberately neutral.

"What did that magic do earlier, Rumple?" Belle asked. She'd seen something in her husband's manner during the contract-signing that had caught her attention. His jaw had tensed, and his kind eyes had gone hard, as though he was angry.

"It released Emma and Regina from their royal obligations," Rumple said simply.

"It felt like really powerful magic," Belle said, prompting him to elaborate.

"It was," Rumple replied, as his throat went dry, Regina's screams from that day, decades ago, still echoing in his mind. He'd hidden in the shadows, minimizing his use of magic to reduce the chance of the court mage detecting his presence, but he'd had a clear view of the proceedings (he still doesn't understand why he'd felt compelled to be there). Blue had cast the binding spell, and the most unnatural sound ripped from Regina's tiny body as she had thrashed and seized on the stone floor—still in that poufy abomination of a wedding dress—until the fairy's evil magic had branded an ugly scar of the royal crest into Regina's natural-born magic.

His stomach rolled.

"Come away, Rumple," Belle said, conscious that her husband's mind was somewhere far away from her, somewhere she couldn't follow. "Let's give them their privacy, hmm?" she asked encouragingly, wrapping her arms around his waist in a brief, firm squeeze, followed by a gentle tug.

"Yes, of course," Rumple agreed, taking Belle's hand and bringing it to his lips for a kiss. What this lovely woman saw in him he would never know.

And he dared not ask.

Snow's shoulders sagged in relief when Regina and Robin came stumbling back into the apartment laughing. "Are you all right?" she asked Regina, her words rushing out of her mouth before her brain had a chance to catch up. Regina was laughing—of course she was all right. But Snow couldn't help worrying. The abdication had been Regina's idea, but what if she was having second thoughts? Who wouldn't have second thoughts about giving up the throne?

Regina pulled herself together and arched an eyebrow at the princess-turned-queen's absurd question. "Yes, dear," she said condescendingly, the bite in her tone reined in as she noticed Roland beside Snow.

Roland looked up at her earnestly. "I stayed with my sister just like Papa told me," he stated.

"Very good, Roland," Regina said with a bright smile as she bent and kissed his forehead. "Why don't you and your papa go get a piece of cake?"

Snow observed a look between Robin and Regina that must have contained a conversation, because, afterward, Robin gave a slight smile to Regina, a polite nod to her, and a hand to Roland to guide him to the dessert table.

As soon as the little boy and Robin were out of earshot, Snow blurted, "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

Regina smirked, "Well, dear, even if I wasn't, it would be a little late now, wouldn't it?" she asked.

Snow felt the fear rise within her. Regina did regret it. All the work to rebuild their relationship would be for nothing; they would be fighting over the kingdom again.

"Relax, dear," Regina said, her smirk melting into a teasing smile, "I am better than okay. I am thrilled. I never wanted to be queen, and now I don't have to be. You and I have discussed this; Ms. Swan and I have discussed this. Neither she nor I want Henry to be forced into monarchy. And neither one of us wants it either. The two of us abdicating resolves any lingering challenges about your right to the throne and baby Neal's succession over Emma."

"But if Henry wants to rule?" Snow asked, her fear abated but worry still knotting unpleasantly in her stomach.

"Then he has that choice," Regina explained patiently. "He didn't abdicate. Emma and I did. You know this. The terms were in your contract. When he becomes an adult, if he decides he wants the throne, you will recognize his right to it as your first-born's heir. But the choice will be his. That's all Emma and I want for him. Choice."

Snow nodded, respectful of Regina's perspective despite not understanding it. Ruling was the right and privilege of her lineage, of Henry's lineage. It didn't make any sense for Regina not to want that for her son. But, then again, it didn't make any sense for Regina not to want that for herself.

Looking at her step-mother, however, Snow knew the woman was being honest with her. After all, Regina hadn't bothered lying to her since commissioning the Huntsman to cut out her heart.

"Try not to run the town straight into the ground though, dear," Regina said. "I know I'm your 'evil step-mother', but I did bother to teach you economics, so try not to make me look bad."

Snow smiled. Regina's criticism was fond rather than biting. Maybe they'd be getting that cup of coffee together after all. "I'll do my best," Snow promised.

"I know, dear," Regina replied with a tight smile. "You always do," she said in that tone between admiration and irritation that was uniquely Regina.

Snow allowed herself a moment to bask in the genuine, if small, compliment from the woman she so admired, but cut it short when she saw Regina's posture stiffen. After spending her years on the run in the forest analyzing every interaction she'd ever had with Regina, she'd uncovered subtle tells of the woman's discomfort or anger. This spine-straightening was Regina preparing for battle.

Snow's suspicions were confirmed when Rumplestiltskin joined their conversation and stepped into Regina's personal space. "Congratulations, dearie," he said in a tone that bespoke of no well wishes. "You are 'Your Majesty' no more."

Projecting an air of imperviousness, Regina replied, "Yes. I finally have my freedom." With a hard look she said, "And it is so nice to be free and not have anything hanging over my head."

Snow saw the muscles in Rumplestiltskin's jaw clench, but otherwise he remained impassive. "Yes, well, congratulations, Your Majesty," he said.

Regina's eyes flared at his manner of address. "I no longer require that title," she snapped.

"Oh, but you'll always be 'Your Majesty' to me, dearie," Rumplestiltskin said, gleeful malice threading through his words.

Regina clenched her hands into tight fists, turning her knuckles white, as the man-shaped imp walked away. Her body positively vibrated as she restrained the impulse to lash out at him. Snow placed a gentle hand on her wrist. "Regina," she said, but her step-mother didn't seem to hear her.

"Regina," Snow said a bit more forcefully, and the woman's head swiveled to face her.

"Yes?" Regina asked.

"What's going on?" Snow asked.

"I don't know what you mean," Regina replied, her default denial familiar to them both.

"Regina . . ." Snow chided. They'd come too far for her to allow Regina to revert to hiding her entanglements with Rumplestiltskin.

Regina released a small huff of air in frustrated resignation. "All right. I do know what you're talking about, but it's nothing," she said.

Snow didn't believe that whatever it was she was witnessing qualified as 'nothing', but she supposed that she couldn't expect Regina to fully confide in her. The grudging respect (with less grudging of late) that now subsisted between them hadn't erased their history, and Snow wasn't deluded enough to think Regina would ever choose to share secrets with her.

Maybe someday. But not today.

But Snow couldn't shake the rock that had formed in her gut at Rumplestiltskin's blatant goading of Regina. And she just couldn't stand it. She couldn't stand that, after all of Regina's hard work to redeem herself, to turn herself into a hero, to become a mother Henry could be proud of, such calculated malevolence could threaten her progress. She couldn't stand to see Regina slide back into the darkness with Rumplestiltskin. She just couldn't.

"Regina . . ." Snow said, unsure of how to begin. "Just don't," she said abruptly.

"Excuse me?" Regina asked, affronted. She may not be queen anymore, but that didn't mean she would be ordered around, especially by Snow White.

"Don't go back to the way things were. Don't play games with Rumplestiltskin," Snow entreated. "You are so close. So close to leaving town, leaving this painful history behind you. You have a future, Regina. A good one. With Henry. And with a good man who loves you and another son who adores you.

"I know I can't understand your connection with Rumplestiltskin. Maybe, trapped in my father's castle, the Dark One and his magic felt like liberation, but, Regina, it was just another cage.

"And you've set yourself free. You don't need him anymore. He's a manipulator and no one's friend. Don't let him pull you back into the darkness, because I know you love the light. Leave town, leave magic, and don't look back," Snow entreated. "But do visit," she said.

Snow took in the familiar non-expression on Regina's face, and her heart sank. She'd disregarded Regina's boundaries and broken the fragile understanding they had so recently reached. "I'm sorry, Regina," Snow said. "I know I'm overstepping. I just—"

Regina's huff of amusement cut her off. "You don't think that, by now, I know that you will always overstep when it comes to the people you . . . care about?" Regina asked wryly, despite her discomfort with acknowledging the something—the something that strongly resembled affection—that resided between her and her step-daughter. "Believe me, dear, I expect this compulsive insertion of yourself into the lives of others by now."

Snow braced herself. Regina's remarks weren't scathing, but they weren't encouraging.

"But," Regina continued, "I know your impertinent speech was well-intended, and I will try to take it in the spirit in which it was meant."

Snow nodded, simultaneously feeling relief and unease flow through her limbs. Her verbal barrage hadn't pushed Regina away, but it hadn't seemed to convince her to stay away from Rumplestiltskin either.

"Don't worry, dear," Regina said kindly. "It's under control. You really should give me more credit." And with an empathetic smile and a gentle squeeze of Snow's shoulder, Regina went to join Robin, Roland, Emma, and Henry at the dessert table, accepting the sliver of cake her boys had saved for her.

The scene made Snow smile through her concern. She would miss her daughter and her grandson and their entire unconventional family, but she was so grateful for the love she saw among them. Emma was no longer alone, and Snow knew, beyond a doubt, that Regina would watch over her fiercely. And she knew Emma would return the favor.

Her family was going to be just fine.

Even better than.

"Excited for your move to the big city?" Rumplestiltskin asked as Robin joined him at the punch bowl.

Robin smiled a non-smile, assessment in his eyes. "Yes, and you?" he asked. He'd never trusted the imp, and that distrust had been compounding steadily into violent contempt and loathing the more Regina revealed about her past and her history with the man. After her revelation in the alley, his urge to beat Rumplestiltskin into a bloody pulp was almost unbearably strong. The Blue Fairy may have cast the spell, but Robin was confident the imp was equally culpable.

But he and Regina had made a deal. Rumplestiltskin would not be welcome in their home, but, should he ever impose himself on their family, Robin would not engage or—heaven forbid—make any deals with the blasted imp without consulting Regina. She, after all, had more experience dealing with him. For better and mostly worse.

"The shop is nearly in order," Rumplestiltskin replied in his typically indirect manner.

Robin merely hummed in response, carefully observing the Dark One-turned-pawnbroker-turned-resurrected Dark One. Rumplestiltskin was not a creature around whom Robin ever expected to feel at ease, but something about the man's manner this evening had his senses on particular alert. He recognized the feeling from his thieving days when he would just know that a guard was around the next corner. And given the way the Dark One had been watching Regina all night, Robin was not inclined to ignore his instincts. He had to hand it to the imp, though. An untrained eye would not have noticed that he kept Regina in his field of vision all evening with the way he'd let her move into his periphery, but, to a skilled thief, the maneuver was obvious.

"What do you want with Regina?" Robin asked. The two sorcerers had been alternately, though subtly, angering each other throughout the evening, and Robin did not care for such games.

"I don't know what you mean, dearie," Rumplestiltskin replied with a glint in his eye and mocking in his tone.

"Did you ever care about her at all?" Robin asked, changing tactics and indulging his angry curiosity. From what Regina had shared, it sounded as though Rumplestiltskin must have seen her at her lowest, her most broken—doing some of that lowering and breaking himself—but truly it would take the darkest of hearts not to have felt some compassion for the young queen.

Thrown by the forthright question, Rumplestiltskin's arsenal of wit abandoned him, and he swallowed hard.

"I suspect you did," Robin said. "Belle seems to think there is good in you, and I rather like her, so I hope she's right. And if there is any good in you, then even you must feel something for the woman you taught, broke, and manipulated for a decade.

"If you do," he continued, "Then leave her alone. I don't know what you are up to, and it's possibly none of my business. Henry is very excited that you and Belle are also moving to New York, and I'm not about to deprive him of a link to his father—even if that link is you—but leave Regina out of it."

"Worried your soulmate is going to stray back to the darkness, dearie?" Rumple taunted.

"No," Robin firmly replied. "Undoubtedly, she's strong enough to leave you behind. Regardless of whether you stay here or follow us to New York. How you manage to underestimate her, time and time again, is incomprehensible to me. It would be fascinating if it wasn't so revolting.

"So, if you ever actually cared about her—and not just yourself—stand aside. Let her find the happy ending you promised but never intended to deliver. You owe her that. And you know it."

Robin didn't wait for a response—he knew the imp didn't have one, and even if he did, he didn't care to hear it. Instead, he picked up two glasses of punch and returned to his family.

Rumple watched him go. And watched Regina's eyes light up when her thief returned with the promised beverage.

She looked like a woman who had everything.

"Isn't it going to be wonderful, Rumple?" Belle asked him as they walked arm-in-arm to the pawn shop from the Charmings' apartment. "Being in a completely new place with so many experiences awaiting us—and being there with your family! We'll truly get to live in the Land Without Magic. It's going to be quite the adventure."

"Indeed," Rumple answered, absently rubbing Belle's arm.

Belle observed her husband closely. He'd been subdued all day, and, now that she thought about it, he'd seemed somewhat preoccupied with Regina at the party. But surely the two weren't plotting something? Regina had even used light magic to defeat Zelena . . . .

"Rumple," Belle said tentatively, as he unlocked and opened the door of the pawnshop for them. "Is there something going on? Something you're not telling me?"

"Of course not, my dear," Rumple lied easily. "Zelena was defeated. You have my dagger. And we are together." His cupped her face with his hand. "All is right with the world," he whispered against her lips before drawing her into a kiss.

Belle gave into the feeling of him, even though she didn't quite believe him. Something was wrong with their world, and she intended to find out what it was.

"What did you do to him?" Belle demanded when Regina opened her front door.

"To whom, exactly, dear?" Regina asked. The answer had to be Rumplestiltskin—the only person about whom the bookworm ever confronted anyone—but Regina was determined to be difficult in the face of such blatant rudeness.

"Rumple," Belle spat. "What did you do to Rumple? I saw the way he was watching you at the party last night. What did you do to him?"

"Well, dear," Regina said condescendingly, "I can't help it if your boyfriend leers at other women. You'll have to take that up with him." Regina began closing the door, until Belle stopped it with her foot.

"Please," Belle said, changing hertack from accusing to beseeching. "Something is going on with him, and I think you know what it is. We're moving to New York with you all tomorrow, and I have this sinking feeling that he's not telling me something. Is he sick?"

Regina sighed. This was Rumple's true love . . . really? The earnest plea was more irritating than the ludicrous accusations. Despite herself though, she felt a pang of pity for the girl. "I don't know, Belle," she replied. She may pity the girl, but pity didn't make her stupid. Belle's pathetic state did not warrant Regina giving up her trump card about Rumple's fake dagger.

"Please, Regina," Belle said. "You know him so well." Better than I do.

Better than you do, Regina thought. But she just shook her head. Belle had chosen to love the beast; it's time she recognized the downside. "I can't help you," Regina said, not unkindly.

"Can't or won't?" Belle snapped. "Because I think that you won't. I think that you have never forgiven Rumple for using your selfish hate to help him find his son."

"Oh, that's what happened, is it?" Regina asked, incredulous.

"I think you're angry," Belle stated. "You're angry because the Dark One has a purer heart than you. The mistakes he made, he made for love. For his son. You—you became the Evil Queen because your step-daughter received more attention than you. And is that why you're attached to Rumple? Because he paid attention to you when no one else would?"

"And you hate that, don't you?" Regina sneered, any trace of sympathy for the other woman eradicated by her ignorant, deluded assumptions. "You hate that he paid—that he pays—attention to me. Tell me, which hurts worse—knowing that I'll always know him better than you or wondering if he'd rather you were still Lacey? After all, he only brought back your memories because he thought you were about to die."

Belle felt like she'd been punched in the gut. She had wondered . . . but she knew that Rumple loved her. After all, their kiss could have broken the curse of the Dark One.

But it didn't. Because he chose not to let it.

Regina watched Belle's doubts play across her face. "He always chooses darkness," she said, echoing her words to Rumple during Belle's stint as the town lush. "If his own son couldn't bring out the good in him, who could?"

"There is good in him; I've seen it," Belle answered obstinately.

"Well, it sounds like you have nothing to worry about," Regina said. "But then, why are you on my doorstep?" she asked snidely.

"Because I will always fight for him," Belle declared.

Regina had a flash in her mind's eye of the woman making the same absurd declaration all those years ago in the Enchanted Forest. "Then you've chosen a lifetime of pain and misery."

"That you so kindly tried to spare me by locking me up," Belle spat.

Regina shrugged. "I do think my tower was the better option," she said. She'd already apologized to the girl once; she wasn't about to do it again.

"A better option than True Love?" Belle asked incredulously.

"A better option than a doomed relationship with Rumplestiltskin," Regina replied.

The jaded note in the queen's voice caused Belle to wonder, not for the first time, about the exact nature of Rumple and Regina's history. She'd nearly worked up the courage to ask Rumple once, but she wasn't sure she wanted to know. After all, Regina would always have a part of him that she could never reach. Regina was the one he'd chosen to mentor, the one he'd chosen to share magic with. He'd never shared his magic with her. One shield spell while he was in Neverland, but he'd never taught her more. And if she could cast a shield spell, what else was she capable of?

He'd flaunted his magic for Lacey, but not for her.

And when Belle was feeling brutally honest, she couldn't help but think that Lacey was a classless, dumbed-down version of Regina.

Which is why he'd shown off for Lacey . . . but trained Regina.

He'd invested in Regina.

Why wouldn't he do that with her?

Maybe she and Rumple almost had True Love, but what was love without true understanding? Or respect?

And how can you understand the Dark One when he won't share his magic with you?

Belle squared her shoulders. Tomorrow, it wouldn't matter. Tomorrow, she and Rumple would travel behind Emma's bug and Regina's Mercedes, and they would leave Storybrooke—and magic—behind. They would have their fresh start. And whatever history—magical or otherwise—he and Regina shared wouldn't matter anymore.

Because there was only one future Rumple was interested in. And that was the one with her in it.

Rumple had wanted to say good-bye to Henry.

So Belle stood next to him, with Snow and Charming, outside the mayoral mansion to see Henry (and consequently Regina, Robin, and Roland) off to New York. Emma had said her good-byes the night before in order to get an early start on the drive, pick up the key to her apartment, and then meet the others at their Brownstone to help them get settled.

By the looks of it, they'd be grateful for the help. Regina was engrossed in buckling Roland into his booster seat, a task that apparently required significant involvement from a stuffed monkey, and Robin and Henry were debating which snacks needed to be in the main cabin of the car and which could be relegated to the trunk. A debate that was quickly settled when Regina finished with Roland and asked them if they were ready—in a tone that clearly indicated the answer had better be yes.

And then Snow had the queen enfolded in a hug so heartfelt, Belle was certain the older woman wanted to scream, and Rumple had pulled Henry to the side for his earnest well wishes. Before she could think whether to join them, she found herself in a hug from Robin Hood.

"You can still come with us," Robin said quietly in her ear. "Regina and Emma still have that job arranged for you at the Library, and you already have an apartment across the park from us. You can still come."

Belle smiled and pulled from her friend's hug. "Thank you," she said. "But I can't. I can't leave him. I have to stand by him."

"Even when he's not standing by you?" Robin asked.

"Yes, even then," Belle replied, though the situation was hardly that simple. Belle shifted her weight between her feet, uncomfortable with the compassion and understanding in Robin's eyes.

"Well, if you change your mind," Robin said, "I have finally learned to use that telephone contraption, so just give us a call."

"I will," she promised.

A hug to Henry later and the Mercedes was driving away. With the frostiness between her husband and the queen, Belle doubted Regina would use the rearview mirror before their car crossed not only the town, but the state, line.

Her concern was that Rumple would still be gazing in the direction of the departed car when that happened. The Mercedes was out of sight, but he stood as though he could still see it. What he hoped to see, she didn't know.

He'd promised that they would follow in one week. He'd said that he needed that week to prepare for their move.

And what was one more week anyway?

But her heart had clenched at his words; she hadn't believed him. And in a moment of weakness, she'd used his dagger.

Or tried to use it.

She'd just wanted them to move to New York and start their lives together. In that instant, she'd thought she'd never feel worse; she was overriding her husband's free will. In the next moment, however, she'd known that she'd been wrong. She could feel worse.

The dagger hadn't worked.

The dagger hadn't worked. The dagger he'd proposed with. It hadn't worked.

She waved to Snow and Charming as they headed back into town.

She supposed she'd stay and wait for Rumple.

She didn't have any other plans for the day anyway.