Author's Note: Inspired by the story, "I Placed My Heart in a Chipped Cup", by Stargategeek. I just thought it could go a different way. Please don't hate me.

Also, I call Prince Charming David because, as far as I can make out, that's his 'name-name'.

The Imp Has a Heart.

"You're absolutely sure about this?" David's voice echoed, bouncing off the roughly carved walls of the tunnel. A chill feeling pooled up from the ground, biting at his ankles. Ahead of them, the rusty metal bars that made up the opening of the cage built to hold the most dangerous man in the known world loomed like sharp, long teeth, like a mouth from the center of the earth, ready to snap up whatever they threw at it.

Behind him, two terrified guards in dark robes kept a tight grip on the creature's arms, tight enough to perhaps break another man's bones…but this wasn't a man. It was the Imp, Rumplestiltskin. The creature just smiled when it saw the cage, amusement sparkling in those dark, glazed eyes that flashed dangerously. He was barely resisting, just cooing to himself and grunting under his breath. Regardless of how roughly they handled him, he barely spared his guards a glance as if they were flies perched on his elbows.

Grumpy moved up beside David, sticking a torch into place on the wall before turning to nod proudly at the gears that would drop the gate. "Absolutely. I'm staking my life on it."

All our lives would be more accurate, David thought. He stood by the lever; ready to yank it and drop the gates once the Imp was safe inside. Imprisoning Rumplestiltskin was about as illusive and impossible a concept as beating him in a bargain. It couldn't and shouldn't be done…any sane person would weigh the risks and certain punishment to follow their probable failure and wisely withdraw; suffering whatever damage he received and be glad it was so little.

However, David reminded himself, he was not sane. He was in the business of protecting the weak and innocent or anyone else who needed his help against injustice, no matter how difficult the task.

He took a deep breath, staring at Grumpy's face a moment as he forced himself to remember the skill and loyalty of the dwarves, how they'd shown themselves to be trustworthy and reliable time and time again. If anyone could do this, they could. The Blue Fairy herself had tested the cage and confirmed that it would work.

David turned to the guards, "put him in. Just shove him, then…step back." And pray, he wanted to add, but decided to spare himself any ridicule from the skinny looking Imp in burnt leather whose very presence was causing four grown men to whisper as if they were guilty children sneaking around in a room too big for them.

Rumplestiltskin chuckled under his breath, suddenly digging his feet into the earth and bringing his guards up short as he glanced nonchalantly at the bars that loomed over his head. He whistled. "Nice bit of work this…I wonder how much dwarf blood went into it?" he rolled his head back on his shoulders to gaze at Grumpy with a knowing, condescending smile.

Grumpy's black eyes smoldered with anger, his jaw tightening as he scowled furiously, pointing into the dim interior of the cell. "Push him in!" he barked.

The guards braced themselves, grabbed the Imp by the neck with their free hands before slamming him forward. His fearsome reputation caused them to shove far harder than they needed to, since a powerless Rumplestiltskin wasn't something anyone could easily comprehend. They kept expecting him to turn around and set them on fire with a single glance and a giggle.

Instead, the Imp hit the ground, hard, his light body skittering over the dirt a few inches as he clawed at the dust to slow himself. For the first time, real anger shot through his gold flecked eyes as he scrambled up with a snarl, lunging forward again towards the gate. He was moving far, far faster than they'd expected. In less than a second, he was close enough to stretch his claws out for Grumpy's neck.

The guards stepped back in panic as Charming yanked the lever. The teeth dropped with a muffled boom that seemed to travel through their bodies, blasting them back with sound as a cloud of earth rose up and the torches flickered so badly that, for a moment, everything went dark. There was a queer sound, something like a moan…and then all was still. The torches glowed again, the dust settled.

Charming squinted against the light, staring into the darkness inside the cage.

He could see the top of the Imp's head, the grayish brown hair, lit up by what little brightness could filter in from the few rocky fissures that breathed through the roof, thin tunnels that went on for miles until they finally reached the surface, carrying weak, filtered light but no fresh air.

He waited, but the head didn't move. No spells, no curses, the iron bars didn't shatter nor did the earth beneath their feet begin writhing. The lights didn't blink out and no one suddenly dropped dead of a mysterious affliction. They'd done it. They'd captured Rumplestiltskin.

As David released the breath he'd been holding, he suddenly heard a low, gurgling chuckle.

"Oh dearies," it cooed, the voice grinding in its throat, echoing from rock to rock and wrapping around the men as if the prisoner was the one with power, "look's like you've caught me. And for your sakes…you'd better hope it's worth it."

There was a rustling. A scaly hand suddenly wrapped itself securely around the bars like a strange, cave dwelling creature emerging from the darkness to bask in the torchlight. How could the Imp, who had lived all its long life a free being in the open air, traveling to many lands and watching the wide world age without him…how did he suddenly fit so well into this subterranean chamber, like a bat or grub buried in the earth?

"And so you've got him. You've got the big bad magician in this little birdcage underground and everyone lives happily ever after…" another giggle as the other hand appeared, grabbing another bar in a tight fist, the black claws dimly reflecting the torchlight. "Or not. There's so, so much you don't know, so much you have to know…"

Suddenly, the Imp's face emerged from the black wall of darkness, shocking and wide-eyed, bruised and dusty from his fall. It pressed violently against the bars, heedless of the way one of the sharp points pricked his scaly cheek as he grinned widely, straight at David. David swallowed as a perfect, crimson pearl of blood welled up and trickled down the bar, leaving a dark, moist trail until it was absorbed by the rust. The Imp's brown eyes with their black masks literally glowed with satisfaction. "Time to make a deal."

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. David frowned, stepping back slowly and warily. "You're in no position to make deals."

The Imp gave off a high, whinnying laughter, steam curling from between his blackened teeth as his eyes sparkled with that sickly hidden mirth, the great joke only he could see, "oh, dearie, you're in no position not to…the dear Queen might be exiled and powerless against Snow White…but she's still got a few tricks up her lovely sleeve."

David grit his teeth at the mention of the woman's name…the woman who had caused so much pain to Snow. He wasn't surprised that she was trying to find a way to skirt around the protective spell Rumplestiltskin had cast over Snow White. He considered her to be an even more personal enemy than the Imp. Rumplestiltskin had just walked over innocent human beings once too often. Regina, however, was out to kill the woman he loved. He narrowed his eyes at the creature in the cage. "What kind of tricks?" then, struck by a thought he added warningly, "You can't barter for your freedom!"

Rumplestiltskin burst out laughing again, still staring at David's face without blinking, his hands twitching on the bars, "oh, I wouldn't dream of it, dearie. In fact, I'd be doing you a favor if I told you what I know…in return for this precious, most secretive secret, just to make it legal…" he loosened his grip on the bars and straightened up like a real man, his face retreating into the shadows again until all David could see was a dim, wet gleam where his eyeballs reflected the torchlight. "I just want an oddity…a little trinket from my Dark Castle."

Go to the Dark Castle? An obvious trap. Grumpy said as much aloud, glaring at the Imp who was still grasping at straws even though he'd obviously been beaten, "we don't have to listen to this, your highness. We did what we came for. Let's go."

There was a whoosh of air. The Imp's face crashed against the bars again and peeked out into the light, this time all the way on the other side of the cell less than a breath away from Grumpy's shoulder. The Dwarf took the surprise with the courage of a boulder, merely turning his head and stiffening protectively, eyes narrowing with hatred. Any other man would have fallen with a cry on his backside. But that was Grumpy; solid as a rock.

The creature just grinned, "Hey, stumpy, here's a secret that's completely free…" one long finger reached upwards and dragged its nail thoughtfully down the rusty metal, piercing their eardrums with the screeching sound, "…this cage needs more…" a pink tongue suddenly emerged, moistening the green-tinged lips as the Imp grinned hungrily, "dwarf blood."

Suddenly angry, protective, and a little afraid of what the dwarf might try to do, David stepped forward; Grumpy was a loyal servant and friend, a man he knew he could always depend on. He and his brothers had stood by Snow White at some of her darkest moments when David wasn't able to. He wouldn't stand by as the Imp insulted and taunted him. "If you want something from us, this isn't a very clever way of asking for it!"

The creature hissed through his teeth and came back towards David, hands skittering along the bars like spiders. "I don't want anything from you, Pwince Chaaarming…you" he pointed from the prince to himself, "want something from me…I'm just giving you a way to earn it."

David frowned with sudden yet reluctant understanding. "Like you gave me a way to earn the enchanted ring…the ring you stole from my pocket. That was my ring; I shouldn't have had to earn it."

"Ooh, you're such a clever, clever little king!" Rumplestiltskin clapped his hands, his voice high and whimsical. Then, suddenly it morphed into a deadly smirk, the voice dropping until it was a throaty growl, like a nightmarish teacher who would kill you for the incorrect answer, "wrong. Your mother gave you a ring, not an enchanted ring. You paid me for the enchantment."

"Which I didn't ask for," David protested, eyes narrowing.

"Yes…but you did want it, didn't you?" The Imp smiled lazily, his body relaxing as he leaned his head against the bars, "just like you want this secret…so," his arms tightened, his head pressed even harder into the bars as he snarled, "Make up. Your mind!"

What could you say to that? Thank you so much for helping me in a bullying, manipulative, selfish manner? David's mouth tightened and he decided to forget the ring squabble. Inside, he felt himself growing more and more disposed to accept the deal, but he was still distrustful of the creature's schemes. "What makes you think I'll set foot in your Castle? What horrors do you have waiting there?"

'You don't. Wanna know, trust me." Rumplestiltskin wrinkled his nose, rolling his black orbs heavenwards, "but they're all asleep now, asleep for good. The doors are unlocked, the protection spells are down… you just have to walk in," he lifted one hand in a grand, fanciful gesture, straightening up a moment in a way David had often seen him do before, "into my rather unimpressive summer parlor…"

Then, the hand went limp and fell, barely managing to latch onto one of the bars for support as his head drifted to rest easily against the rusty metal. His eyes didn't quite meet David's anymore. He was giving far too much thought to what he was saying.

The voice sank, the whisper softened from a sharp hiss to a gentle breath, "you'll find a pedestal there, with a single sunbeam that hits it at noon exactly…there," the fingers around the bars twitched, suddenly moving up and down soothingly, stroking the metal ever so slightly, "you'll find my little…" the lips stretched into a strange smile that didn't meet his eyes, eyes that, without any sort of fire whatsoever, now looked lusterless and almost sad, "…my little knick-a-knack," it breathed fondly.

David noticed the change in demeanor, every twitch in the Imp's body language and facial expression, "You're very careful to call it a trifle…what exactly is it you need so badly?"

The tongue came out and rested between his teeth; if David didn't know better, he'd say it was a sign of nervousness. The Imp smiled, still biting his tongue, "A cup," the corners of the smile faded ever so slightly, "a chipped cup."

"A chipped cup?" Grumpy asked, purely from disbelief.

As if a part of him was waking up again, the Imp's voice grew sharper and harder. "A teacup, a porcelain cup, white with a golden edged handle and blue floral print on the side," he said each word as if he was eating it, mouth and tongue and cheeks stretching grotesquely to perfectly accentuate each syllable. All the while, his glazed eyes stared intensely into David's as if he was trying to tell him something beyond those harshly said words.

David breathed through his nose, slowly, steadily. He took careful note of how the Imp's face seemed to shiver and change as if a magic spell had been cast. He seemed to be earnest, lips parted for breath, leaning towards the Prince earnestly, watching him as if his answer would be the most important words in the world. And was it a trick of the torchlight, but did those wide, burning eyes seem more brown than black?

This cup was far more than a trifle to the Dark One, David determined, and therefore worth retrieving. He nodded sharply, his mind made up. "Deal." He wondered what Snow would say about this if she were here.

Instantly, a huge smile stretched over the Imp's face. He released the bars and took a step back; bursting into a fit of delighted giggles as he twirled twice in the darkness, "deal! Deal, deal, deal!" He laughed suddenly, pointing his claw at David as his fit of giggles died down and there was something almost…friendly in his voice, "bring it back safe, bring it here, and I will tell you the Queen's plans."

Unable to even believe what he'd just heard, Grumpy took a step forward, almost into David's chest as he glared at the Prince with a face that clearly said, "you shouldn't have done this but I trust you and I hope for everybody's sake you're right." It was loyal, concerned, yet stubborn, a mixture David found curiously reassuring. He nodded at Grumpy and turned around, blinking as torchlight shone into his eyes and green spots swam across his vision; he'd been peering into the Imp's shadowy cell for too long.

It was about time he went on a trip.

"You're not a monster, Rumple."

The Imp crosses his legs and leans against the rocky wall, letting the cold seep into his back unnoticed as he smiles at thin air. She was so silly, always had been. Silly to think he covered the mirrors simply to avoid beholding his own ugliness. If she'd come to know him better, she might have understood…nothing could be ugly compared to what was inside him.

"But I'm not a man either, dearie…There's never been a man like me," struck by an idea, he imitates Gaston's voice and pose with his magic, hands on his hips arrogantly.

She could never have given her heart to Gaston, anyway. That was good. He could think on that with relief. He hadn't separated her from her true love. There was more monster in Gaston than the man knew. Unsurprising, since the oaf really knew very little at all.

She laughs.

It's a secret joke between them…everything's a secret joke.

He stands up suddenly and crosses the cell in a few quick steps, listening to the way his joints creak and pop in protest. This underground chamber isn't good for them, but that's all right. He's immortal.

He touches the bars, thoughtfully rubbing at the rust until his fingertips are coated in it. "So hard," he mutters aloud to the silly girl in his dreams.

"I know."

The guards hear him murmur, but they're too busy drawing lots as to who must stay below while the others shirk their duty and go above ground to warm up in the sun. This place is depressing and chills souls as well as bodies.

The creature watches them and a snarl curls his lips. He wouldn't mind a little sunshine himself. So hard…so difficult to wear such fragile, weak chains…to him, his imprisonment is like being tied hand and foot with a single strand of hair. All he has to do is pull…"Squid ink," he giggles, remembering the parchment he's concealed in the wall. The guards no doubt think he's ruminating on how he was captured. They glare at him for disturbing their game before turning back to business.

He scowls at their backs and rests his face against the bars, letting his eyes travel up and down their bodies, pinpointing their weak spots. All he has to do is blow (pull) and he'd be free and he could get out and kill them, kill them all so easily.

"You can't."

His face goes blank.

"You have to find your son."

Like a checked dog, he growls in rage and wheels around to stalk back into the darkness where he won't have to watch their fat, stupid faces as they chat cheerfully about warming their bodies and washing off their filth and satisfying every little demand that comes to their withered brains.

His own brain, the human part, is screaming demands desperately. He's starving, his stomach squeezing in on hot emptiness that's been empty so long it's no longer even hot. He might not be able to die, but his belly still longs to be filled. It's the only reason he eats the watery…he's not sure what it is…that they bring down to his cell once a day. Even the maggots and worms that swim through it aren't spared. He was so hungry he would kill…no, he might even not kill…for some meat and white bread and wine.

He misses the wine, the spirits. Fool that he was, to so carelessly throw away his last bottle just before taking that quill! He's not completely reliant on it and so he didn't really think about it. He doesn't like to think about the times when he just really, really needed to blur his mind a little. But he soon discovered that when you're imprisoned all alone in semi-darkness, all the thoughts, hopes, regrets, and memories of a very long lifetime come crashing down on you, and you're never ready for it.

And so, to avoid seeing the past anymore, he likes to stare fixedly at the future. He likes to scheme and plot and watch the will bes and might bes blur and reform and intertwine into a grand palace of dreams before he forgets them all, only to see them again the next day or the next month or never again.

It must be affecting his mind. He always lets the guards think he's mad, but letting himself think he's mad is going a little bit too far. Unfortunately, he's not sure whether he's right or not. He might be mad, but at least he has one purpose to cling to, one force that pulls him through the frothy, burning waves of ages of madness and insanity. He can't breathe and he clings to that purpose with a death grip…nothing else matters. It will see him through or he will die and his carcass will fry to that purpose like an insect under the sun.

But, like a cooling finger, something else always manages to reach through and gently, gently touch his heated brain. And he in turn, like a blind newborn, (oh, he remembers when Bae was a blind newborn) he turns and clutches that feeling with strong, desperate fingers, (he remembers how Bae used to grab his nose)

Suddenly blinking and back in the dark cell, he moves towards the rear wall, eyes narrowing as he studies the way the dim light filters in and manages to light up the rocks near the very back…and he sees the perfect one, roughly built like a table or seat. And he smiles as he imagines what will soon sit there

He bends over it, almost touching the top of it with his lips, and he breathes in the smell.

She smells like Roses. Some women don't like that scent. They say its weak. The Dark One will turn them all into toads if they say it again. She wears it. She is not weak. She is (was) never weak.

He caught her, and she was soft and safe and sweet in his arms.

She laughed at his quips. She let him make her happy. She trusted him, so she could laugh with him.

She was so beautiful…she was kind to him. He loved her, even though she betrayed him. He knew, even if she didn't, that no one could ever love him, not even her. But he would have forgiven her. She should have come back. But how could she? He drove her away…it was his fault…not anyone else's…his fault.

She died.

He remembers her smile over the rim of the cup.

Her touch.

She made him feel warm, like something in his humanity was worth returning to. The Spinster was a worthless coward, but at least he was kind, sweet, eager to please. She liked the kindness. She liked the spinster. She would reach for him and, in reaching for him, she would touch the monster.

Her hands were gentle and her breath was sweet and her eyes were bright as stars.

Her laughter was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard.

Her voice…for a little while, was the only thing he'd ever lived for.

And she was the only woman he had ever really, truly loved.

He dusts the stone niche aggressively, smoothing out the surface with his nails and rubbing his tattered sleeves over it. It will never be good enough, but it gets as close to it as possible before he gives a small chuckle of approval and steps back.

"Why, thank you."

Did she like it so? He smiles to hide the pain in his eyes and hands her an imaginary rose, bowing neatly. She takes it and curtseys so gracefully on her little white shoes, letting light bounce off her chestnut curls as she dips into the sunlight from the tall windows. She straightens at the same time as he does, and he waits, breathless, hands clasped, waiting for her smile.

The smile fades before it even reaches her eyes, her sweet skin and red lips and bright, bright blue eyes swirling away into the dark like a mist.

He stands there, staring at the empty, black wall of his cell. There's nothing, nothing at all in his face, as if everything living about it has drained out through the gaping hole in his black little heart.

This is why he never looks back.

"Oi, Rumplestiltskin!"

The pupils move in their black orbs and refocus, little flecks of gold swimming to the surface.

Behind him, a guard backed by two followers gingerly smacks his stick against the bars, "dinner will be late. And stop with the scratching sounds…almost makes me think there'd be rats down here, if you hadn't eaten them all." His face isn't cruel, just impatient.

The Imp's body pirouettes with a sharp snarl of rage as he lunges towards the bars, claws outstretched, foul curses spewing from his mouth as his skinny frame flies through the air. The guards' faces flush with terror and they stumble back, tripping over each other's robes. They fall in a heap.

When they finally manage to get to their feet and back away far enough to look at the cage without trembling, they see the creature hanging upside down from the ceiling, his matted hair dangling as he leans his face forward against the bars near the roof. He's smiling down at them, his teeth wet and sharp looking as he runs his tongue over them. "Sorry to disturb you, boys…" it giggles suddenly through its nose, "just getting comfortable."

As he expected, they half trip, half run towards the light near the surface. They were hired mere days ago. Soon, the Charmings will find someone with guts and intelligence to keep a lid on this place but, until then, he'll play with the oafs as much as he likes.

He drops down suddenly, knees bending as he touches the ground like a spider. Straightening, he turns and goes back to the stone pedestal, dusting it off once more.

Pity about dinner being late. He's still hungry. Sometimes he tears off a chunk of leather from his suit and chews on it, although he knows it isn't wise, since he might be stuck in here for years and of course, there are no sets of clothing. No furniture either, for that matter, not even a straw pallet to sleep on or a bucket.

But he can live with that. He pats the stone surface gently, carefully, a small, shy smile creeping up his face.

This will be all the furniture he needs.

Everyone who could be assembled at the Council Table was there: Princess Ella, Granny and Red, Grumpy of course, and the Charmings. The Blue Fairy had been called in and was hovering in the air above them. At the center of the table, small and weightless and white, sat the teacup.

The trip into the Dark Castle had been as safe and easy as the Imp promised; yet that very fact only worried everyone even more. Rumplestiltskin, the master of manipulation, had passed up a chance to kill the man who imprisoned him, missing a perfect opportunity for the simple reason that he wanted the cup. There had to be some trick to it, something about this innocent piece of porcelain that would free him if he could only get his claws on it.

The Blue Fairy left a dissolving trail of sparkling dust behind her as she slowly zoomed around the cup, her wand held out until it was almost touching the porcelain surface. "I've searched it very carefully," she said finally, "twice. I can find absolutely no magic.'

"Search again," Granny ordered sharply, crossing her arms. Red glanced at her lap with an exasperated yet fond smile, finding it far easier these days to be amused by her grandmother's irascible behavior rather than insulted.

The Blue Fairy obeyed without question, simply because it helped make everyone feel safer if the cup was checked and triple checked. If it was up to her, personally, she'd never let the murderer who'd killed so many of her sisters have anything he craved, innocent or not. "No, no magic. But…" she fluttered upwards, her wings buzzing, "It has been touched many, many times. Hundreds of times."

'He is hundreds of years old," Snow White said slowly, almost sarcastically, her eyes on the table. Even before her Prince had left for the Dark Castle, she'd been furious with him for imprisoning Rumplestiltskin without consulting her and even angrier still that he'd contracted a deal with the Imp as well. She wondered how he'd feel if she agreed to a deal with Rumplestiltskin as well, regardless of David's consent.

"Yes, but the cup is not," the Blue Fairy said patiently, "there's traces of moisture on it."

"Yeah, moisture. Like, I don't know…tea?" Grumpy asked sarcastically. He'd never been on the best terms with the Blue Fairy, often either cold or irritable. She, in her turn, took his bad behavior with surprising patience, doing her best to let his comments pass through her.

"No," the fairy turned to look at the dwarf, "it's moisture imbued with emotion, which is why I'm even able to detect it. With enough feeling, it can leave traces that are almost…magical…like outlines or echoes."

"What…what are you saying? Tears?" Grumpy exclaimed with disgusted ridicule, wrinkling his nose. His face was the picture of disbelief.

The Blue Fairy shrugged, her brow furrowed as she stared at the cup suspiciously, "Hard to say. It could be lips…" she paused, eyes widening as if an idea had struck her. She turned and looked straight at the Charmings, "or something he touched the cup with. He's a master of magic…it could be anything. It doesn't even have to be magical."

Everyone looked at the cup with new respect, as if it had transformed before their eyes into a giant, sentient axe about to rise up and chop them all to bloody pieces.

For the first time, Ella spoke. She had been staring at the cup, her soft blue eyes hard and brittle, like a dam holding back a flood. "Offer it to him. Make him give back Thomas."

Snow White's face softened with sympathy and pain. She leaned over and put her hand on Ella's arm. "Ella, we offered him so much…you know what he said."

The Imp leered at them from between the bars. Snow White hugged Ella protectively to herself as the creature scratched the bars impatiently with his nails. The sound raked at their spines, making them want to cover their ears. "Oh, dearies, I couldn't even if I wanted to," the leer twisted into a smile, "which I don't."

He broke off and pointed at Ella, barking sharply as if she was a misbehaving student he was scolding, "You broke our deal…you cheated." He hissed suddenly, his eyes traveling up and down her dress. "Magic's just making sure you pay the price for your pretty gowns and your little silver crown and your glass slippers. All magic," he stated then, pointing at the air like some crackbrained teacher lecturing on theory, who's taught the same theory in the same way for hundreds of years, "has a price."

Something in his tone, in his words, reawakened Ella's fighting spirit. She ripped away from Snow White and crashed forward, her hands grabbing at the bars, heedless of the rust that smeared on her silk sleeves. "But Thomas shouldn't have to pay it!" she cried, her voice hoarse.

Completely unruffled, the Imp leaned his own face into the bars less until their noses were almost touching, his breath hot on her chin. "No," he said thoughtfully, his voice surprisingly low and almost humanlike. Ella felt a surge of hope. "He shouldn't."

He pushed his face out farther; the bars creaked. Ella gave a gasp as his head suddenly scraped out from between the bars and his forehead nearly collided with hers. Spittle flew into her face as he hissed at her, teeth bared, "and neither should your baby…but you didn't think about that, did you, you stupid little wench!"

As Snow White stepped forward with a cry of alarm, one hand shot out and grabbed at Ella's chin, his scaly hand hard and hot on her skin, forcing her to look straight into eyes that had glazed over until they were almost black with fury. When he spoke again, his voice was high and whimsical, trembling even though he seemed to have regained control of himself. " See dearie, you should be thanking me. All magic has a price, and when you choose it, someone you love always, ALWAYS pays."

His eyes floated downwards again, studying her trembling lip, the anguish that writhed in her eyes as she struggled to be strong and not break down into tears and beg him. When he looked back at her, he wasn't smiling. His face was like a child's, a child watching flowers die, knowing that they will always come back again…but then they will always die. Again. Forever. "And the flip-side, dearie…" he breathed quietly, looking into her eyes without a shred of sympathy, just quiet reflection as he spoke a timeless truth, "is that when your loved ones pay the price, you pay the most of all."

Ella pulled away from Snow White, her head whipping around to stare at her urgently. "But this time, it's something he actually wants," she pleaded.

"Something we might not give to him," Grumpy interjected warningly, still determined to throw cold water on all these idealistic heroes who thought the monster downstairs might actually keep his word.

David held up a hand, "we'll take it down to him and have him tell us his big secret, anyway. Then…" he glanced at all the faces, measuring their emotions. He might have been a king, but he knew better than anyone else that he was only a man. He needed his friends' support, council, and most of all their loyalty to rule well. As they owed him fealty, he owed them respect. And consideration. No one would ever be able to say he got them all killed without first considering their opinions and then making the very best choice he could. "Then we'll see."

"No!" Ella exploded, her voice breaking as she shot to her feet, straight and tall as if she'd actually been a Princess by birth, as if strength and pride were in her blood, not just her spirit. She turned on her friends with anger and desperation, "you can't bargain like this when that creature's spirited Thomas away to gods know where!"

Trying to help in what everyone knew was a difficult situation, Snow White held her hands out reassuringly, "Ella, he won't give him back that way. And..." she glanced guiltily around the table before turning back to Ella, "whatever Regina's plotting will hurt everyone, not just Thomas."

Ella looked as if she'd just been slapped across the face. She took a step back, shaking her head; her soft blonde curls flowing down her shoulders. "You can't…you can't ask me to make that choice."

"No," David said quickly, trying to be kind yet also authoritative. He knew this was a choice he had to make, for everyone's sake. Regina's forces were said to be mobilizing, but not for war. He was worried. " I know we can't. I can't even expect you to agree with us. That's why we're making it."

Ella blinked rapidly, her shining eyes beginning to well up with tears. Fighting against her dear friends was like trying to use your shoulder to break down a padded wall…it felt wrong and hopeless and even a little selfish. But Thomas…

She sniffed, struggling to control the storm of empty loneliness that had ravaged her every morning, afternoon, evening. The cold sheets where Thomas never was, the missed voice at her ear, the soft, strong touch of his hands on her arms, guiding her down the steps to the nursery they'd designed together. His voice telling her he didn't care that she'd worked in cinders or didn't know who her parents were, telling her she was magical and a blessing and he loved her more than anything in the world.

She looked at Snow and cursed her trembling voice, "what if…if it was Charming? What would you…"

Snow White closed her eyes, letting the painful thought go through her. Her own eyes glistened when she opened them. "I'm so, so sorry…" she whispered, "I couldn't do it either."

David swallowed. "Ella, I promise you, we will find a way to bring him back. We'll strike another deal, offer him his freedom even…" there was a gasp of protest, but he ignored it, holding Ella's gaze, "but we deal with Regina first. Then, I swear to you, I won't rest until he's found."

Ella closed her eyes briefly; willing back the tears as every single word he spoke made her feel even worse. "I want him back. You can't ask me to live without him…"

"Alexandra can," Red spoke suddenly, moving forward to hug Ella around the shoulders, "she needs you."

As a baby girl's giggles echoed down the hallway, Ella shuddered. Red lowered her gently to the chair as the former maid-turned-queen burst into heavy sobs.

"Red," Snow said softly to her friend, "stay with her."

Red nodded. David turned to the others, trying to shake off the horrible, heavy feeling that sat over his heart, "the rest of you, with me." He picked up the cup, running his thumb thoughtfully over the cool, smooth surface.

The very instant the sound of their footsteps began echoing towards the back of the tunnel, the Imp gave off a crow of delight. When they came in view, he was already pressed against the bars, giggling. "Ah, ah, ah…" his eyes darted hungrily towards the white gleam in David's hand. "You've brought it! That's very good..." he hesitated, schooling his excitement down, "A good thing."

He eagerly held his hand out for it, stretching his arm much farther than one would have thought possible.

David deliberately stopped just out of reach, holding the cup as he crossed his arms, carefully taking note of how the creature's eyes followed it. "New deal. You tell us what you know, and we'll decide whether you should have this cup…whether it's worth it." He stressed, barely able to breathe at his own daring. He was haggling with the master of bargains…but his gut instinct told him Rumplestiltskin would do anything, anything for that cup.

The Imp's lip curled up in a snarl, his black eyes flickering with frustrated rage, "how can a little cup be worth more to you than your own safety?!" He hissed the last word.

"You tell me," David shrugged. Experimentally, he transferred the cup to his other hand. Rumplestiltskin's face went blank a moment and his eyes remained riveted to the cup, as if some magician had taken his heart out and was juggling with it over a pit of fire.

Suddenly, as David let go with all but two fingers, the Imp's claws tightened convulsively, hauling his body up as he literally crawled a few inches up the bars. "Fine, fine!" He spat, "the Queen is vicious, she's desperate. She doesn't know what to do. So she's playing with fire. She'll create a plague that will devastate your people, killing every man, woman, and child. She wants to break your hearts."

"How do we stop her?" Snow White asked quickly, stepping forward. She wasn't afraid for herself, but the people who depended on and loved her. She would die to save them, as would Charming, the Imp realized, as would any of the stupid heroes standing stupidly around his cell.

He smiled at the thought, relaxing, letting his body slide back down to the floor. "Ah, ah, ah, it's not something for nothing, as you well know. I've fulfilled my part of the bargain, but I'll throw in something extra if you behave!" some of the liveliness drifted out of his face again, making him look solemn and anxious, "Give me the cup."

"The cup again. What's it worth to you, Dark One?" Grumpy exploded, "Peoples' lives are on the line here. If you know something, you'd better spit it out now."

David watched the Imp's face carefully and saw something that filled him with hope as nothing else could: desperation. The Dark One was suddenly chained to their will as securely as this cell could never make him, and it was all because of the piece of damaged porcelain he held in his hand. He made a quick, clever decision. "Tell you what."

The Imp looked up from the cup, straight into David's eyes.

David took a deep breath, holding the cup out again, "I'll let you touch it…" the look of sharp, sudden longing on the creature's face almost sickened him, "then you tell us. Then you can have your cup."

He stepped forward, "Blue, cast a restricting spell."

Obediently, a stream of blue light shot from her wand and wrapped its curling tendrils around the cup like a tangle of vines before disappearing, becoming invisible to the naked eye but just perceptible by the slight humming sound.

Then, Charming held the cup out.

The Imp stared at it a second, letting out a sharp breath of anxious, sheepish laughter just to tell them all he really didn't care…before stretching forth his scaly hand, the fingers actually… trembling? Hesitantly, like a child exposing its secret, private fairy tale world to a circle of adults, the claws touched the china surface. David felt something electric pass through that touch into him, some indescribably sensation that stirred his insides.

Suddenly, impulsively, the clawed hand curled around the rim, displacing David's hand roughly, the thumb frantically rubbing over the chipped part, cradling the smooth, cool surface. The other hand joined it, clasping it, his entire essence arching towards it protectively, adoringly. Mesmerized, they all stared.

A pained light glowed in the Imp's eyes, getting brighter and brighter until David thought he saw life in those faded pupils. Life, vulnerability, longing…and something else. The creature's grip tightened, somehow instinctively knowing just how hard it could push before the cup broke, holding it suspended on that narrow point between pressure and collapse, between existence and destruction. A soft, almost breathless sigh of relief escaped the Imp. "It's safe," he breathed, "it's safe."

Fascinated and intrigued, David barely had the heart to pull it back. As he did so, the fingers froze. It wouldn't let go. "No…" it took him a moment to realize that it was the creature who was speaking, its voice was so low, choked and distorted, "don't…don't…" it still wouldn't look away from the cup, "I'll tell you."

David nodded. "I'm listening," he said, almost gently.

"The Queen knows the only cure is far away and not easily found. She's sent men to burn the fields, but there is still a secret glade…the Broken Blooms. Red, blood red, split straight through their hearts. If they are ground up and mingled with the bark of oaks more than thirty years old, then the plague will be stopped. It spreads through touch, so be careful. Now," the eyes blinked and looked upwards, straight at David. They were full of pain. "We made a deal. The cup!"

They all burst out speaking behind him. Granny said they should make sure he was telling the truth first. Grumpy said they should give him a piece of it as a reward and save the rest for later. Snow insisted they keep their promise. The Blue Fairy wisely remained quiet, unable to trust herself if it came to a choice between honoring agreements and giving pleasure to a monster who killed her sisters.

But David said nothing, meeting the Imp's silent, intense stare. With a start, he realized the creature's gaze was speaking to him, no…begging him.

Rumplestiltskin was begging him to understand, to please give him the cup, because it meant far more to him than anyone could ever understand. Because…

A brief flicker of light amidst an ocean of darkness.

"You've kept your part of the bargain," he said aloud, cutting through the chatter behind him. He spoke quickly, before his resolve could weaken; to have power over Rumplestiltskin was a tempting prospect. But it was wrong. "You've earned it."

He looked up at the Blue Fairy, giving her the signal to undo her spell. "Blue…"

"No!" A voice interrupted them. Ella came rushing down the stairs, Red trailing after her with an apologetic, harried face.

Ella stormed towards the cell, her eyes hard with anger. She had gathered her strength again and was ready to fight for the man she loved. "Give me back Thomas!"

"I told you. Dearie," Rumplestiltskin said quickly, glancing nervously at her as his hand tightened protectively on the cup, still suspended so dangerously by the spell, "I can't."

"Can't or won't?!" Ella cried. "I love him, you fiend! Although you might not understand that…I'd do anything for him." Her eyes burned with unshed tears, then darted at the thing held between them. "Anything!"

She grabbed at the cup, ripping it out of their joined hands. The minute Rumplestiltskin's claws lost their grip, the spell dissipated. David cried aloud, struggling to hold it as the grief-stricken woman tried to snatch it away.

Rumplestiltskin's entire body jolted against the bars with a dull bang, eyes wide with terror as he strained against the gate like an animal in a trap. His voice broke as he snarled, "Careful, careful you fools!"

David stepped back into Snow White; Ella pressed her advantage, tearing her elbow out of Grumpy's grip as he tried to restrain her. Granny barked out for them both to stop. Red rushed forward, intending to grab Ella.

"No," Rumplestiltskin's voice rang out, growing hoarser and hoarser, "no, no, no…"

Red grabbed Ella around the waist. She made one more wild flail for the cup and her wrist swung hard. Her ring hit the cup with a tinkle of sound as it suddenly left David's grip and flew above their heads, twirling in the torchlight.

"No." The last 'no' was breathless and brittle with pain.

For a moment, the cup was shiny and white, soaring through the air as all eyes watched it. Then the stony surface of the tunnel crashed against the tiny cup and it exploded into a thousand shattered pieces that scattered across the dirt floor, glistening like shards of ice.

Ashamed of themselves, they all stared down, silent, aghast. But the silence didn't last long.

The Imp screamed. Suspended against the bars of the cell, he gave a hoarse, gasping scream, body shaking, red-rimmed eyes wide and burning, the pupils bright and black, staring out of dusky brown irises that looked all too human. Its face was lined with utter horror and acute pain, as if his heart had been inside that cup and they'd just killed him.

Then, with a sudden, horrible motion, he slid to the ground with a boneless thump. His body was slumped limply against the bottom of the bars, hands still clutching at the rusty metal, his wide, suddenly childlike eyes staring at the pieces of porcelain that littered the earth.

He didn't blink at all. The thin chest wasn't moving. No breath stirred that dirty, scaly, small body. For a minute, they thought he was dead.

Then, slowly, emerging like the first heartbeat of a newborn, the chest swelled heavily. The ribcage heaved. A giggle came out. But it was all wrong, tight with agony. The annoying little laughter had been transformed into, what they all realized with shock, was a sob.

And it kept on sobbing, losing its breath, shaking with the force of its own desperate gasps as the body struggled to keep up with the flood of absolute and overpowering grief that simply gushed from the creature, over and over, never stopping.

Then, the eyes blinked. The wall of pain shattered, the mask slipped, and the tears began to fall. The sobbing changed again. It got sharper, deeper, louder…and it wasn't an Imp anymore. It was a man, a man who'd been broken for ages and ages, shattered for more years than they could count…and they'd just ripped him wide open.

Ella suddenly began to cry, staring down at the pitiful creature. She was stressed and ashamed of her conduct, rapidly losing her grip on whatever hatred she had held for this Imp crying in the dust at her feet over some shattered crockery. All she could feel now were pain and contempt and...pity. Red quickly took her by the arm and began guiding her away, up the steps and towards the light.

Granny, Grumpy and the Blue Fairy quickly followed, a strange, confused look on their faces. For reasons they couldn't describe, they felt guilty. Guilty because of what they were leaving behind them, sobbing in the darkness.

Pale and painfully surprised, Snow White touched David's arm, mutely asking for an explanation. He was too distressed to acknowledge her.

The Imp was still crying. A dirty, leather clad arm suddenly reached out from between the bars, straining towards the pieces weakly, hopelessly. The tears trickled from his cheek and ran down the metal bars, leaving streaks of wet rust on his face, like dried blood.

Silent, David crouched down. He slowly swept the biggest pieces towards it. The Imp wouldn't stop reaching. Without a word, Charming gathered every little piece he could see and let them fall from his fingers onto the pile.

With a whimper, the Imp shuffled quickly to his knees, his hands shaking as he frantically gathered up the pieces, dropping them as fast as he picked them up, cutting his fingers and dripping blood into the dirt. Over and over, as if he was somehow trying to make sense of this, trying to magically put them back together, make the pieces stop this silly little game and fix themselves.

But this was no game, and they would not be fixed.

As if he realized this, the Imp sagged against the bars, his matted hair hiding his face. Then, slowly, he took up every shard, cupping them to his heart. David shifted forward. Like a startled animal, the creature suddenly struggled off on his knees, retreating towards the furthermost part of his cell, disappearing into the dark until he was just a dim shadow, a trace of life in that black pit.

David held his breath.

Slowly, the shadow began to rock, back and forth, back and forth, still crying, crying as if its heart had been broken, as if it had been stabbed and mutilated before its very eyes and now the creature was dying from the pain.

But it wasn't his heart…it was just a cup.

A chipped cup.

"You. You loved someone."

The sobbing died down to a thick, steady whimper that was all the more terrible. As David heard it, a memory of another time came forcibly to mind.

"It was a brief flicker of light amidst an ocean of darkness."

Please someone just stop the pain.

"What happened?"

It hurts.

"She died."

David realized…Rumplestiltskin had loved someone, had loved her so much that he had latched onto that one special memory of her, a broken teacup…he'd bound his soul to it, his heart. Yes, there was a heart somewhere under all that evil, filth, and crocodile skin. And now it was bleeding.

He wanted to help that heart. He wanted to stop that pain, the pain no one, not even an Imp, should have to feel. But he had no idea how to reach that heart…he didn't even think it was possible, at least, not anymore.

Rumplestiltskin was evil, yes. But underneath all that, he was still a man. A man forever trapped by his own regret, crippled by his own love. Whatever goodness left in him was torturing him, and yet he still kept it. He was broken, yet he could still cry. He had lost his chance forever to be with her…yet he would always, always love her.

And then, at that moment, David understood. Inside, deep in the core of his soul, Rumplestiltskin was human. He had a heart. Never in his life had he seen anyone who was so very fragile. As fragile as the cup they had just shattered, the broken remains of which were now pressed against the Imp's heart, bathed in his blood and tears, warmed by his sobbing breath.

Heart swelling with pity, David leaned forward and grasped one of the bars, wishing for just that moment that he'd never imprisoned Rumplestiltskin there, never separated him from his last memory of that one woman whose touch, whose love had been so powerful that, when she was gone, she left him utterly broken.

There was nothing, nothing he could ever say that would make the creature feel any better. But it still had to be said. "I…I'm sorry," he whispered into the darkness, "I am so, so sorry."

There was no response and the rocking didn't stop.

Snow White blinked back tears. Unable to bear the sight any longer and unable to help, David stood up and took her hand, guiding her out, leaving the Imp alone in the darkness, alone with his shattered cup and his broken heart.

FINIS