"I was told you'd...protect me."

"Oh, yes...yes, I'll protect you."

You never expect it to happen to you.

Like fires—you never really think that your house could burn down—or like assault. You read stories about people being waylaid and mugged in an alley, but you never think "that could be me". Perhaps some people do, but I never did.

That may have something to do with the fact that I'm the Dark One. Pardon me, if you don't know the term. The Dark One commands all the dark forces. That is to say, all the dark magic and wicked spirits in any place I happen to be ultimately report to me and do my bidding. Essentially, when I have control of my faculties, anything that magic can do, I can do.

Magic has absolutely no problem with taking on a few thugs.

In this accursed world, however, there is no magic, except in Storybrooke, and somehow Bae—Neal—whatever it was he wanted to be called—had convinced me to come to New York with him and Emma to celebrate their engagement.

Magic to a magical being becomes like air or food, and the absence of it is like the loss of air and food together—disorientation, panic, a sensation of being drained of all energy and life. You become severely claustrophobic, tense, irritable, nauseous, and exhausted all at the same time; after a while the sheer pressure either drives you to kill or to die yourself.

We'd been in New York a week and all the lights had begun to blur together and all the walls felt as if they were going to close in. We returned late from a close, stuffy theatre after not eating in six hours to find that the air conditioning in our hotel room had malfunctioned, all the restaurants were packed at this hour, and ordering pizza would take at least thirty minutes.

I swore. "Order," I said, standing up. "I'm going for a walk."

"Let me come with you," said Bae.

"I'd rather go alone."

"No, papa, that's not a good idea," said Bae. "This is New York and it's dark and you're an old man—a well-dressed old man."

"I'm forty nine," I said tensely, "…at least in this world. And I need air."

"Neal's right," said Emma. "We'll order and then come with you. Don't forget you can't fall back on your magic here."

"Believe me, dearie, I haven't forgotten it for a second since we left Storybrooke. I don't know how I let you talk me into this. I need to be alone. I can't…I can't breathe."

"Papa…"

"I'll be fine, Bae. I'll be back in half an hour."

I think he was about to protest further when Emma laid a hand on his arm. She knew something of what it was to be drained of magic.

The cool night air on my face refreshed me, even if there were cars blasting their horns all around and everything smelled of fuel and cement. A long brisk walk down the street, and I felt almost strong again. My head still swam a little, but at least I could return to the hotel room without eating either my son or his fiancée.

As I turned around to go back, however, someone grabbed me. Before I knew it I was being pushed up against the wall of an alley, and a gruff voice ordered me to surrender my watch and any money I had on me.

I felt a surge of anger and immense irritation that I couldn't summon magic. Still, no matter. I knew enough to handle myself in a fight.

But there were four of them, all bigger than me, and I couldn't raise my cane high enough, and they just kept hitting. I tried to fight but they pinned me against a wall and struck me. I couldn't even shout because they stuffed something into my mouth. One of them got me on my bad leg and I went down and hit my head on the pavement. They kicked, hard, and one began digging in my pockets and there was nothing I could do, and everything was pain…

"Hey!"

I knew that voice.

Belle.

She stood in the entrance to the alleyway, framed in the perfect golden glow of the streetlight, her head thrown back.

"Get away from him," she ordered, her voice perfectly even.

"Go away, girlie," said the biggest man. "Don't get involved."

I spat out the rag. "Belle! Go! Run!" I managed. Suddenly I didn't care what happened to me, if only they would let her go and not hurt her.

Her fists clenched. "Get away from him."

"Yeah, try and make me," said one of them, laughing.

"Get away from him, you bastards."

One man sauntered toward her. I saw the glint of a knife. With one fluid motion, Belle kicked it out of his hand and punched him in the face, hard. She had my ring on her finger: it cut his forehead and he started bleeding copiously.

Then she leapt into the alleyway and dealt the same treatment to the other three. She had the element of surprise on her side, because she looked like an angel but fought like a tigress. She had powerful kicks and four inch heels and used her nails like claws and she wasn't afraid to bite and that diamond drew as much blood as any knife.

I managed to stagger to my feet, grab my cane, and strike down one of them (permanently, I hoped), though it took nearly all my energy and I sagged against the wall gasping. Magic. Damn it, I needed magic.

Belle didn't, though. It only took a few minutes for the other three to run like hell under her fierce attack. When their footsteps died away, she turned to me, grabbed my shoulders, and looked into my eyes, all the rage gone and only worry and care in her face now. "Rumple? Rumple, are you all right?"

I sort of fell against her. I'm afraid it wasn't very dignified at all. Breathing was difficult and I lost my balance and she was there to catch me in those beautiful soft arms. (Rather bloodstained arms, sure, but hey, a little blood never hurt anyone. Well, a little of someone else's blood, anyway.)

Belle supported me a few steps into the main street and helped me to sit on a bench, where she unfastened my tie and the first few buttons of my shirt so I could gulp in the air more easily. "What…what are you doing here?" I muttered. I'd asked her to stay in Storybrooke. I wanted her to be safe. Ha.

"A 'thank you' would be a nice way to start," she teased.

Wordlessly, I rested one hand on the back of her neck and pulled her in toward me for a long kiss. How could I have left her? How could I have pretended to forget how much I needed her?

"That's better," she said when I let her go. "I came to surprise you. I got to the room just after you left, and Neal and Emma said you'd gone for a walk, so I said I'd go and meet you. Rumple, are you hurt? What did those monsters do to you?"

"I'm…I'm all right. They didn't hurt me, Belle, not much. I'm badly bruised, but that's all. How did you cross the line?"

She held up her left hand and the ring on it glittered. "I went into your shop and…borrowed some of that potion. I thought it might work on this, and I was right."

"You thought it might? Belle, the last thing I need right now is for you to go about risking your memory again!"

"I missed you," she said. "And it worked, didn't it? But that's not important right now. We should get you to a hospital."

"I'm not hurt, Belle. I don't need a hospital—nothing's broken."

She brushed my hair out of my face. "Tell me the truth."

"I am," I insisted. "Nothing's broken, everything just hurts."

"You can barely stand up, Rumple. And your eyes look all filmy."

Oh, that. "I'm…I'm a bit out of my element, sweetheart."

"That element being…magic."

"Precisely. But with you here, I'm feeling stronger."

"True love: the most powerful magic of all," she said.

"Making your presence almost literally a breath of fresh air."

"Can you walk?"

"I think so. Where's my cane?"

"Oh. I think it's still in the alley. Let me…"

Before I could stop her, she'd fetched it and, putting her arm under my shoulder, was helping me to my feet, with little whispered words of encouragement and caution. With her head bent the light hit her face, revealing a swelling purplish bruise over her left temple.

"You've got a black eye!" I said.

"You've got worse than that, mister," she said. "I've been roughed up a time or two before; I can handle it."

"If I ever find those men again…"

"You'll report them to the police and they will go to prison for assault. Right?"

"That's not what you did just then."

She raised her head and looked at me, her smile as radiant as the stars. Well, my stomach wasn't bothering me anymore, but now I couldn't feel my tongue and I'm pretty sure my heart was about to burst out of my chest. Love is like nausea only it feels fantastic.

"That's different. I was protecting you."

"I'm supposed to protect you," I said, through a sort of mist of tears. "I promised I would protect you."

"Let's you and I protect each other," she said, helping me take my first steps toward the hotel. "And then I think we'll get on just fine."