This made sense to Emma, actually. She didn’t know much about magic, but she knew a back door when she saw one.
— That’s why I’m the savior, — she said, almost relieved that it wasn’t about religion, or a prophecy, and was simply about the manner in which a lonely old man had constructed a spell. — That’s why I can break it, too.
— Now she’s getting it, — Gold said.
— I don’t care about breaking the curse, — said Emma. — I just want to save Henry.
— Which is why it’s your lucky day, — Gold said. — I didn’t use all of the potion. I saved a little. For a rainy day.
— Well, it’s storming like a bitch. Where is it?
— Where it is not the problem, — Gold said. — Getting it is what should worry you. It’s not gonna be easy.
— Enough riddles, Rumple, — said Regina, and Emma was startled, for a moment, hearing her refer to him by his «real» name. — What do we do?
— You do nothing, — Gold said. — It has to be Ms. Swan.
— He’s my son, it should be me, — insisted Regina.
— All due respect, but it’s her son and it has to be her, — Gold said. — She’s the product of the magic, so she must be the one to find it.
— I can do it, — Emma said. She knew it was true. If it was about saving Henry, she’d be able to do it. Everything that had happened had led to this.
— Don’t trust him, Emma, — Regina said, turning to her. She put her hand on Emma’s arm. Hearing her own name in Regina’s mouth was also disorienting, but the hand on the arm — a brief compassionate touch — was totally surreal.
Emma pulled her arm away.
— What choice do we have? — she said.
— You expect me to believe that you saved a dollop of the most powerful magic in the realms, which also happens to be the only magic left in this place, and you’re just going to give it to us to save Henry? — Regina shook her head. — No. He’s up to something.
— Maybe I’m fond of the boy, — said Gold.
— Why would you be?
— Why? Why? You didn’t come to me for a why, Regina. You came to me for a how. And that’s what I’m providing. Now then, if you’d be kind enough to stop wasting what little time your boy has left, we might accomplish something.
Emma knew he was right.
— Okay, — she said. — Where is it?
— With an old acquaintance, — Gold said, looking at Regina. — Someone quite nasty.
Regina and Emma both waited for him to spit it out. Instead, he knelt down and retrieved a long wooden box from down at his feet. He brought it up and set it on the counter in front of the women.
— Tell me, Regina, — said Gold. — Is your old friend still in the basement?
— No, — Regina said. — You twisted little imp. You hid it with her?
Emma looked from one to the other. None of it made sense.
— Not with her, — Gold said. — In her. I knew you couldn’t resist bringing her over. The perfect hiding place!
He cackled.
— Who is «her»? — Emma said
— Someone you should be prepared for, — Gold said. He opened the box. Emma looked down and saw a long, gorgeous, golden sword. — Where you’re going, you will need this.
— What is that? — she said, looking at the gleaming weapon.
— Your father’s sword, — said Gold.
Emma needed to have two final conversations: one with her son, who wouldn’t be able to talk back, and another with a man made of wood.
Henry had stabilized, and she was allowed to be at his bedside. The many machines around him beeped and clicked as they monitored his vital signs. Emma held his hand.
— You were right, Henry, — she said after a few moments of sitting with him. — About the curse. This town. All of it. I should have believed you. I’m sorry.
She stared at him. His eyes were closed. She listened to the sound of the machines humming.
Henry’s book was in her lap, and she picked it up and set it on his bedside table.
— For when you wake up, — she whispered.
Storybrooke was dark and quiet as she made her way back downtown, to Granny’s B&B. She knocked at August’s door for a long time, wondering if he had skipped town, before she heard a faint moan coming from within. It was all she needed to hear. She launched herself at the door once, twice. After hurling her shoulder against it for the third time, she heard a crack, and the lock gave. She entered the room.
August was in his bed. And now she could see it: He was turning into wood. His arms were both already a deep, grainy brown, and the wood, like a disease, was creeping up his neck. He looked terrified; all he could do was shift his eyes.
— No, — Emma said, going to him. — No no no no no.
— What’s happening to you? — she asked sadly, stroking his hair.
— You can see it now, — August said. — You believe.
Emma nodded.
— Yes, — she said. — I do. But how… how can I stop this?
He spoke slowly, deliberately, staring into her eyes:
— Break. The. Curse.
— I’ll try, — Emma said. — I promise. But first, I have to save Henry. And I need your help.
— No, you don’t, — August said. — You don’t need my help. You don’t need magic. You don’t need anyone’s help.
— I do, — she said. — This is all too much. I–I just talked to the Evil Queen and Rumplestiltskin about going on a quest for magic. I have this gold sword; I’m supposed to — to — I don’t know. Who the hell knows? I can’t do this, August. No normal person can.
— You’re not normal, — he said, smiling. — You’re special. All you have to do is believe.
— But I told you already, I do believe, — Emma said.
— Not in the curse, — he said. — In yourself, Emma.
She stared at him. The wood had made it up to his lips now, and she held his head, hoping that it didn’t hurt. He said it one more time:
— Believe in yourself. That’s real magic.
And he was still.
Sword in hand, Emma walked to the clock tower. Regina was waiting for her at the door, which was padlocked. Without a word, Emma strode up to the lock, struck it with the hilt of the sword, and the thing clanked to the ground, broken.
Emma gestured.
— Lead the way.
They entered a small library with stone walls. Emma’s eyes were drawn to one object in particular: an enormous mirror. Regina went directly to it and touched the glass, and when she did, the mirror jerked sideways, revealing a passageway.
More movement then. Underground machines hummed to life. A frame rose up from below, settling into the open space. Emma realized that it wasn’t a passageway at all. It was an elevator shaft.
— Okay, — Regina said. — Get in.
— After you, — Emma said.
— It’s a two-man job, — Regina said, shaking her head. — I have to run the elevator from up here. I lower you down. And besides, — she added, — you’re the one with the sword.
— I’m supposed to trust that you’re not lowering me down into the pit of doom, then? — Emma said.
— I don’t think you have a lot of choice, Ms. Swan.
Emma thought of Henry, lying in his hospital bed. Regina was right.
— What is down there, Regina?
— An old enemy, — Regina said. — Her punishment was unique. She’s been down there for twenty-eight years, trapped in another form. She doesn’t want to hear from me.