Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Savior had come. She had only been in town two days and she had already begun the battle in earnest. Really, considering her parents, Rumplestiltskin shouldn’t have been surprised. They’d never been lacking in spirit, only direction, and their daughter - Emma - was the same way it seemed. That was his role, to direct her, and as he walked to Regina’s, intending to make his first move in this game, Rumplestiltskin expected he would enjoy it. Immensely.

He took a meandering route though town. In this Land Without Magic, power was instead gained by money, influence, and knowledge. He had plenty of the former two, and was now gathering the latter. What had changed since the Savior came to town? The clock was moving, but were the people?

So far, nothing seemed out of place except, perhaps, Gold himself. Unless it was rent day, which it was not, he could not usually be found walking through any part of Storybrooke except the route between Main Street and his home. He was getting nervous looks - perhaps they thought he was on his way to evict someone? He smiled.

He spotted a teenage boy sitting on a bench, drawing in a notebook. His heart ached. Soon, Bae, soon, he reassured himself, not taking his eyes away from the boy. He had dark hair like Bae, and Bae had so liked to draw...

The boy looked up.

No.

No, it couldn’t be.

Bae is not here. Bae is out there - in the Land Without Magic. HE CAN’T BE HERE!

But he was; there was no mistaking it. The boy sitting on the bench was just the slightest bit older than his boy had been, but it was a difference of months, not years.

BAE!

The boy noticed him staring. “Can I help you?” he asked in a challenging tone that only revealed how nervous he was underneath. It was Bae’s voice.

“Bae,” Rumplestiltskin said without thinking.

“What?”

“Bae, you are-” he stopped, realizing suddenly that if Bae were here, that meant he too was cursed and would not remember his name from before. He doesn’t remember me. The thought was agony.

But he couldn’t just stand there babbling. “What… what is your name, lad?” he finally asked.

The boy narrowed his eyes, “Why do you want to know?”

Smart boy. But what to tell him? “You look… like someone I know. Someone I have been looking for for a very long time.”

“Who?”

The mask cracked. “My son,” he said emotionally.

“Your son?” Rumplestiltskin nodded. “And… his name is Bae?” He nodded again. “And he looks like me?” Another nod.

“How long have you been looking for him?”

Centuries. “Years.”

The boy changed tactics. “What is your name?”

“Mr. Gold.”

The boy straightened. “You’re Mr. Gold? The pawnshop owner?”

“Yes.”

“And you think I’m your son?” he asked as if it were not impossible.

But that made little sense. Surely the curse had given him new parents? Rumplestiltskin chose his words carefully. “I gave you my name. I’ll not answer any more of your questions until you give me yours.”

The boy frowned, considering.

Finally, he answered quietly, “I don’t remember.”

XxXxXxX

It was stupid. He knew it was stupid. This guy could be an axe murderer, even if he was Mr. Gold. Especially if he is Mr. Gold, the boy thought to himself, having heard the name many times before. Everyone is afraid of him.

But he had been waiting and hoping for so long that someone might come for him, someone who could tell him who he was, who his family was, that he just had to try.

And what else could he have done? He didn’t have a name - even a fake one. He’d never bothered to pick one because no one had ever asked. No one had ever really acknowledged him before, beyond a nod or possibly a smile.

“You… don’t remember?” Mr. Gold asked. The boy couldn’t read his expression; Mr. Gold seemed almost… hopeful? But there was also something dark lurking underneath it that made the boy extremely wary. He nodded anyway.

“Who has been taking care of you?” The boy gave an involuntary snort. The darkness lurking in Mr. Gold’s expression flared for moment, and he forced it down with visible effort.

“Where have you been staying?” The boy was certain Mr. Gold would not react well to the truth - that he had built a base of sorts inside an abandoned house - so he said nothing. Another flash of that terrifying anger, and Mr. Gold declared, “You’re coming home with me.”

“What? No!” the boy protested, jumping to his feet and grabbing his battered backpack. He wasn’t going to let anyone take him anywhere!

Mr. Gold’s smoldering anger was suddenly replaced with what the boy would swear was fear and no small amount of hurt. “Wait - don’t run! I’m sorry, I didn’t - I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“I’m not frightened.” He was frightened.

“I know you don’t remember me, but you’re my son, Bae.”

“How can I trust that? I don’t know you.”

Mr. Gold actually looked like he might cry. “I know. I know you don’t, but you will. I can - there are tests. And in the meantime, I can get you a room at the inn or… or call the Sherriff if you prefer-“

“No!” At Mr. Gold’s startled blink, the boy elaborated, “Don’t call the Sheriff - I don’t… I don’t trust him.” And he didn’t. The boy didn’t know why, but he always felt like there was something off about the Sheriff. The boy didn’t remember exactly how long he has been wandering around without his memories, but he did know that he had once considered going to the Sheriff for help, and then decided against it. He didn’t know what it was - or how he knew - but something bad would happen if he turned himself over to the Sheriff.

Mr. Gold seemed to understand that. “All right; the inn then, if you don’t want to come home with me. But I am not going to just leave you here. You’re a child; you need a safe place to sleep at least.”

“I am not a child,” he replied defensively.

“Yes you are; you’re not yet fifteen, let alone eighteen. I can’t leave you here; I won’t.”

The boy glanced at Mr. Gold’s cane. “And if I run? Are you going to catch me?”

“I’ll find you - I will always find you. But any number of things could happen in the meantime, Bae; please, don’t.” Fear again.

He wasn’t sure what to think. This had been what he had been dreaming of for so long, someone to rescue him - someone to find him and take him home. And yet he was afraid. Afraid it wasn’t true, afraid of being hurt again - afraid of being left again.

“What if the test says I’m not your son?”

“You are. And if it says you’re not, well… it’s up to you. I’ll find you a home. With me, if you like, or somewhere else.” Mr. Gold looked grieved at that last suggestion, as if doing so would tear his heart in two. He really thinks I’m his son.

“OK.”

“OK?”

“I’ll go with you.”

“To… to the inn or…?”

“Your house. If you want.”

For a moment Mr. Gold looked stunned, then suddenly profoundly, overwhelmingly grateful. “Yes. Yes, I want that very much.”

XxXxXxX

They were going home. There were going home. It didn’t matter if it was the salmon Victorian that Rumplestiltskin had only known (as himself) for a day or their ramshackle house in the Frontlands or even the Dark Castle Bae had never seen; Bae was with him - that was the only thing that mattered. The only thing that has ever mattered.

As they walked, it occurred to Rumplestiltskin that the boy must have been sleeping somewhere - and by the gods there would be a reckoning when he learned exactly how his boy had been dropped into Storybrooke without even a cursed identity to provide for him - and he dared to ask, “Do you need to… pick up anything? A change of clothes?”

Bae gave him a wary look. “Do you have a spare toothbrush?”

“I’m sure I do, somewhere.” His house wasn’t the best organized, but it was well equipped.

“Then no.”

He probably doesn’t want me to see where he’s been sleeping - just in case he needs to run later. The thought was sobering.

They didn’t speak for the rest of the walk home. Rumplestiltskin was burning with questions, but knew that with the mood he was in he’d only come off as an interrogator and frighten Bae. And likely the boy wouldn’t be able to answer anyway. No, he would get Bae settled, make sure he was safe, and then go after his answers. Regina and Reul Ghorm would be held accountable - but not tonight. Tonight was for Bae.

Wordlessly, Rumplestiltskin unlocked the mansion’s front door and smiled at his boy, waving him inside. Bae went with some reluctance.

“Nice place,” Bae finally said, feigning nonchalance, and Rumplestiltskin could tell he was intimidated. He poked his head in the dining room, so dusty and cluttered that only the table gave away its intended function, and raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have many guests, do you?”

“No.” Indeed this house had never seen a single guest in its entire 28-year existence. “These are mostly things I don’t have room for at the shop just now; or else they need some work before I can take them in. The kitchen is this way - it’s, ah, less cluttered.”

Bae was impressed by the kitchen. It was a nice kitchen - large, with modern appliances and, unlike most of the rest of the house, organized and spotlessly clean. Mr. Gold was a skilled cook - like Rumplestiltskin himself - and it showed.

“May I assume you haven’t had dinner?” He wasn’t going to ask when the boy last ate - he wasn’t sure he could control himself given the answer.

“Yeah.”

“Would you like anything in particular?”

“I’m not picky.” That was certainly true, but they hadn’t exactly had a lot of choice when Bae was young; and after Rumplestiltskin became the Dark One, well, they’d barely talked after that.

Rumplestiltskin shook himself. This was their chance to start over; it was everything his life had been about - getting back to this. He opened the refrigerator to see what they had. His choices were unfortunately limited, as Gold - while skilled in the kitchen - ate sporadically (well, technically not really, as the curse had lent a pattern to his habits, but Gold had been unaware of that at the time). He had eggs and some vegetables, a couple of oranges, and the last quarter of a loaf of bread.

“How does breakfast for dinner sound?”

“Sounds fine.” Bae was looking around, clutching the strap of his backpack nervously. He looked afraid to touch anything.

“Bae,” he said, and the boy’s gaze snapped to him, startled. “This is your home. Feel free to touch anything or go anywhere. Except my office,” he added as an afterthought.

“What’s in there?”

“Confidential paperwork.” Bae gave him a blank look, so he elaborated. “I’m a lawyer, and I rent properties to quite a few people in town - any paperwork regarding any of that needs to be kept private for the protection of my clients.”

“And you own the pawn shop?”

“Yes.”

“You must work a lot.” Rumplestiltskin almost laughed - Bae didn’t know the half of it.

“I supposed so,” he said carefully, “I don’t like to be idle.” That had always been true, but even more so after he lost Bae. When he had nothing to occupy himself, his thoughts had always turned to his son. Where was he? What was he doing? Was he safe? Stop thinking about that, he told himself firmly, you have him back now. Focus .

He began to wash and chop vegetables for omelets. Bae watched him, but did not move to sit or put his bag down. After a while, he asked, “Can I do anything?”

“No, no,” Rumplestiltskin replied. “You just have a seat.”

“OK,” the boy huffed, and Rumplestiltskin’s head snapped up. He knew that tone, and he knew that expression; Bae was upset with him.

And then Rumplestiltskin remembered. Bae had always been eager to help, and Rumplestiltskin had always tried to wave him off - to let him have a childhood. But Bae hadn’t liked that; he hadn’t liked it when they got a maid or when Rumplestiltskin had taken over all the household chores with magic either. Hadn’t Rumplestiltskin just said he didn’t like to be idle? Why had he assumed Bae would be any different? He could curse himself for a fool.

“On second thought… you don’t have to, but you can set the table if you would like.”

“OK.”

It was a start.

XxXxXxX

The boy - he wouldn’t call himself Bae until the test came back - had often fantasized about exactly what it would be like when he found his family. Dinners had been a part of it, although not the kind of food Mr. Gold was cooking now. Boiled vegetables and potatoes had featured prominently, and stews, and for some reason, meat pies. Perhaps he would ask about that later.

And of course he’s dreamed of what his parents might be like. His father would be hard working, like Mr. Gold, but he’d never pictured him rich. Warm, though, and patent and kind, not like Mr. Gold.

Although he’s being kind now.

But for how long?

He didn’t know why, but he’d never pictured his mother quite as often or clearly, although when he did, she always had dark hair like him. He froze. If Mr. Gold is my father, what about my mother? He was scared to ask, but the not knowing was worse.

“Mr. Gold?”

“Yes?” he asked, looking up from the eggs he was scrambling.

“If you’re my father, where is my mother?”

Mr. Gold paused for a moment, then resumed beating the eggs. “I’m sorry, Bae, but… she’s gone.”

“Gone. As in left or…”

“Dead. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” Somehow, it wasn’t a surprise. “Did she die when I was little?”

“She died many years ago. You where six when you saw her last.”

“Oh.”

They didn’t speak again until the food was ready. Omelets and toast, with sliced oranges they were meant to eat with funny little spoons that had teeth all along the rim. “What would you like on your toast?” Mr. Gold asked. “I, ah, have a lot of options to choose from.”

He wasn’t kidding. Lined up neatly in the cabinet were a dozen different jams, jellies and marmalades. Indeed, the entire cabinet seemed devoted to condiments and pickles of different types.

“What’s… Nutella?”

“Chocolate and hazelnut. It’s very good in toast.”

“I’ll have that.”

It was very good.

After dinner, Mr. Gold led him upstairs. “This room is mine,” he explained, gesturing to the door on their left. “You can take any of the others you like, although this one is probably the least cluttered.” He opened the door on the right.

It was a nice room, with a large bed and light blue walls. But like the rest of the house (except the kitchen), it was somewhat dusty, with more clutter than really fit. “I can clear all of this stuff out for you, and I’ll get some fresh sheets for the bed. Or you can pick a different room, if you like…”

“This one is fine.”

“Ah, OK then.” Mr. Gold was nervous, the boy realized. He was nervous too. “The bathroom is the next door down. Do you… have any questions?”

Yes, lots. But he didn’t know where to start, and he was suddenly more tired than he’d realized. “Not really. I’d just like to take a bath and go to bed if that’s OK.”

“Of course, Bae. I’ll just find you something to sleep in.” The boy almost objected, but it wasn’t as if he has a change of clothes in his backpack. At loose ends, he poked around the dusty knickknacks that were overcrowding the dresser. There appeared to be no pattern to them at all - things were just shoved where they fit. He saw bowls, and cups, and figurines, and what looked like a crystal ball. There was a stack of old books piled up in one corner, some of which weren’t written in English. Experimentally, the boy opened the drawers and found them empty. It was a nice room, but a sad one too.

Mr. Gold returned with a pair of pajamas that were obviously his own and the spare toothbrush the boy had asked for earlier. He even had an unopened tube of toothpaste. “These will be a bit big on you, but not too bad, I hope,” Mr. Gold offered, almost sheepishly. The boy noticed for the first time that Mr. Gold was taller than him, but not by much.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Bae.” And that sadness was back in his expression. “I’ll get some fresh sheets while you have your bath.”

“I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“Oh, Bae - you could never be any trouble.” Mr. Gold reached out a hesitant hand as if he wanted to hug him but didn’t quite know how. Instead, he just laid it briefly on his shoulder before dropping it awkwardly. “Go on, now,” he prodded, stepping back into the hallway to presumably retrieve fresh sheets.

Not sure what to think, the boy retreated to the bathroom.

XxXxXxX

It was torture to have his son back and be unable to embrace him. Of course, he knew he might never hold his boy again, but he had expected it to be due to Baelfire’s rejection and - purely justified - anger at having been abandoned (and, in his darkest moments, he’d imagined it might be because he would not find his boy at all, but a marker left for a man long dead). But this was different. Bae hadn’t rejected him; he simply did not know him.

And he’d asked about Milah. What else would he ask that Rumplestiltskin could not answer honestly? He had been very careful not to lie about Milah - and it would be a lie to say he did not hope it would never come up again - but he knew better than most that not lying was not nearly the same thing as being honest. But it was the best he could hope to do until the curse broke: to not lie. Fortunately, he was good at that.

It was rather a pain to make a bed alone with a weak leg, but he managed. They were nice sheets - nicer by far than anything they had had in the Frontlands, even after he’d become the Dark One. He covered the bed with a soft, wool blanket and a down comforter, and at least Bae would have a comfortable place to sleep tonight. Don’t think about where he’s been sleeping until now; focus on the task ahead. Really, there was much about this world to recommend it; once the curse was broken, they could be happy here.

But how would that be accomplished? Finding Bae was a miracle indeed, but Rumplestiltskin would have to completely re-write his plans. He could not keep Bae secret for long, and once Regina learned of him, he would be in danger. There was little Regina could do to Gold that Rumplestiltskin would give a damn about, but Bae? She could get at him any number of ways, not the least of which was the curse itself; once she learned of his connection to Gold, she could give him cursed memories that he belonged to someone else, that Gold had abused him, or even that he was mad. That was something Rumplestiltskin would not allow.

His best bet was the geas, his magical ‘please’; but it was limited. He would have to be very precise in his wording, and he could not stretch its power by using it for anything else. No matter, he was resourceful.

And Emma had Henry to help motivate and keep her here. Rumplestiltskin had not anticipated that little wrinkle either, but it was most welcome. He’d known that Regina would grow dissatisfied with her life under the curse and ask him for something that would ultimately lead to its breaking, but he had not expected that it would be the savior’s own child. That particular bond, he knew more than anyone, was stronger than anything he could have engineered himself.

Bae was still in the bathroom when Rumplestiltskin finished with the bed. Not sure it was a good idea to stir up too much dust right before Bae planned to sleep in the room, he deemed that a task for tomorrow and began scouring the room for any objects that really shouldn’t be in a child’s bedroom. He found a couple of knives (one cursed, not that it mattered much in this realm), and a dragon’s tooth inlaid with gold. There were several old coats and cloaks in the closet, and Rumplestiltskin removed those as well so Bae would know that the space was meant for his use. The drawers of the dresser and nightstands were already empty. They could get rid of the rest of the clutter tomorrow.

By the time he had checked the last drawer, Rumplestiltskin could hear Bae finishing up in the bathroom. Not wanting it to appear as he had simply been lurking in the room waiting for him to finish, Rumplestiltskin busied himself with fluffing the pillows.

“Hi,” Bae greeted timidly, as he entered wearing Rumplestiltskin’s slightly oversized pajamas. In a year, he’ll be taller than me. It was a good thought.

“Hello. I’ve, ah, made the bed. I thought I’d wash your clothes with the sheets, since you don’t have a change of clothes with you. Is that all right?”

“Um, sure.” Somewhat reluctantly, the boy emptied the pockets of his jeans and handed over his bundle of clothes. It was probably weird for him to have Mr. Gold of all people doing his laundry, but the boy seemed practical enough to understand the need.

“Do you need anything else?”

“No. No, I don’t think so.”

“Very well. I will call the hospital about the test in the morning. I’d also like the doctor to have a look at you.” Whale - Frankenstein - possessed questionable morals, but he was the only competent doctor in Storybrooke. Regina really should have planned that better, Rumplestiltskin thought. The next day being Saturday, it might take some negotiating, but Rumplestiltskin was certain he could arrange an appointment for Bae; even Dr. Whale did not say ‘no’ to Mr. Gold.

“What? Why? I’m fine!”

“I believe you, but I’d prefer a doctor’s opinion for my own piece of mind. Additionally, even with the paternity test, there may be questions about how I found you and how well I’m taking care of you. If the Mayor or the Sherriff do start to sniff around, a doctor’s report would help establish that I’ve done my due diligence towards you.”

“Oh.” He seemed cowed, as if he still wanted to object but knew he didn’t have grounds to argue the point.

“Bae,” Rumplestiltskin said softly, “I only want to take care of you - do you understand?”

After a moment, Bae nodded, but didn’t say anything.

Oh, how Rumplestiltskin longed to embrace him then. But Bae was still skittish and didn’t trust him (yet); it wouldn’t end well. Instead Rumplestiltskin turned to leave. “I’ll let you sleep now. Remember if you need anything, don’t hesitate to come find me, no matter how late it is.”

“OK.”

Rumplestiltskin knew he wouldn’t - at least, not yet. He just needs time. It was small comfort.

There was nothing else to say. “Good night, Bae.”

“Good night, Mr. Gold.”

Chapter Text

It was a long night for Rumplestiltskin. He planned. He plotted.

He spun.

He wasn’t sure if it was his deal for “comfort” that had provided the wheel, or if Regina simply could not imagine him without one, but it did wonders for his focus.

The first order of business was to invoke the geas on Regina. Once he did not have to worry about her planting cursed memories in Bae’s head, he could move more freely. But there was still danger; he’d have to make sure that his guardianship could not be challenged by the standards of this world either. Fortunately, the law degree the curse had supplied him with would help him there. He knew a positive paternity test would go a long way. It also helped that Bae had no other family or guardians to challenge his claim. After that, it came down to providing for him to the standards the law required, and Gold’s knowledge of family law told him exactly what those standards were.

Food and shelter were taken care of. Medical care and other essentials like clothing would be addressed tomorrow. Schooling was next, and that gave him pause. There were two school systems in Storybrooke. The private one was run by the faeries of all people, and Rumplestiltskin most certainly did not want Bae anywhere near them. The public school had a poor reputation (it was, after all, to Regina’s benefit that the citizenry be kept ignorant), and without the background knowledge the curse should have provided him, Rumplestiltskin could hardly just enroll Bae the local high school and expect him to manage.

That left - he searched his curse-supplied memories for options - home schooling. Perfect. Gold was educated enough to tackle most of it himself, and he was peripherally aware that there were both books and online programs that could help fill in the gaps in his own knowledge. He supposed he would have to purchase a more modern computer (he had a geriatric desktop in his home office that he only used when absolutely necessary), but that was a minor concession. Perhaps he could present it to Bae as a gift? The idea had appeal.

It also helped - immensely - that the curse had also given Mr. Gold a son. Mr. Gold, of course, had also lost him. It made sense, he supposed. The curse doomed those under it to unhappiness; for Rumplestiltskin, no unhappiness could ever compare to losing his boy (he thought of Belle for a fleeting moment, then pushed it aside).

The memories were foggy - as memories under the curse tended to be - and Rumplestiltskin wasn’t sure that even Regina knew that Mr. Gold had had a wife who had divorced him, taken his son, and vanished. There was a box in the closet of his office that contained toys and clothes Bae had never owned, along with a birth certificate for a Baeden Gold, who would be turning fifteen in three weeks. The curse had even got his birthday right (the day before Year’s End - or December 30th according to the calendar here). He didn’t know if it was fate or the fact that he had engineered the curse (he had not, as Regina believed, written it - he had, instead, spent centuries finding it and years modifying it), but in either case, it seemed fortuitous now.

The next issue was the Savior. In the long term, breaking the curse was the only thing that could really keep Bae safe. Not only did Regina hold far more influence over the minds of the townsfolk while it was in place, Rumplestiltskin could not kill her without trapping them in a perpetually half-cursed town, nor, as long as it was in place, could he simply take Bae and run if things went sour.

Eventually, of course, the Savior would triumph - the question was how quickly and who would be caught in the crossfire before the deed was done. Rumplestiltskin cared little for the casualties that were sure to result - the Huntsman, for example, was a likely target for Regina’s wrath - but the longer it went on, the greater the chance that Bae would be drawn into the conflict. And Bae, of course, would care about the casualties. He had always cared about things like that.

As he had noted before, it was to Rumplestiltskin’s advantage that Emma had Henry to keep her here. It helped, also, that Regina had already provoked the Savior’s ire. Emma, he gathered, was the type of person who would go out of her way to do exactly what you said she couldn’t, and Regina had chosen the most obnoxious possible way to say exactly that. Friends, a job, and a more permanent residence would be the next logical steps - each one a thread anchoring Emma to Storybrooke.

He was in little position to offer the Savior friendship, but in an excellent one to provide a job and housing. He would wait a bit, though - Emma might work those out on her own, and it wouldn’t do to overplay his hand. And the friendship would come from other corners. He had heard that Emma and Mary Margaret had already met, and if Rumplestiltskin had learned one thing about Snow White, it was that she drew friends to her like flies to apple vinegar. Allied with Mary Margaret (and he suspected the curse had had a hand in their meeting so quickly) Emma would soon have more friends than she knew what to do with.

He’d let things play out a bit with the Savior while he pinned Regina down, and keep his ears and eyes open. It might very well be that the curse, wanting to be broken, would do most of the heavy lifting for him. In the meantime, he would focus on Bae. As painful as it was to have his son near but not know him, it granted him an extraordinary opportunity. He had a chance to prove to Bae that he could be his father again, that they could be happy here like they had been before. More so, even, as he had the power to protect and provide for Bae here, even without magic.

The night before, the first thing Rumplestiltskin had done after remembering himself was to locate the dagger. It was currently in his safe at the shop, although he had planned to move it to a more secure location sooner rather than later. But he had Bae now. That changed things; he wouldn’t need magic to find his boy as he had assumed he would. Perhaps they could simply destroy the dagger and truly move on, as Bae had wanted to do? Perhaps fate had given him a chance not only to apologize, but to actually honor his deal with Bae? The possibility of giving up magic permanently was terrifying, but for the first time in a very, very long time, Rumplestiltskin felt like he knew how to do the right thing by his boy.

He would miss spinning straw into gold, though.

XxXxXxX

It was a long day for the boy.

To begin with, he was not by any means a morning person, and Mr. Gold woke him up far earlier than he would prefer.

At least he was apologetic about it. “I’m sorry, Bae, but your appointment with Dr. Whale is at eight thirty, and you should have breakfast before we go.”

“Ugh.”

Mr. Gold’s smile was fond. “I’ll be back to wake you up again if you’re not downstairs in twenty minutes.”

The boy frowned at that. Aside from the fact that he didn’t appreciate being treated like a child, going up and down so many stairs couldn’t be good for Mr. Gold’s leg. Then again, if it were that big of an issue, you’d think he’d live in a house with fewer stairs.

He made it downstairs by the twenty minute mark (barely), dressed in his newly cleaned clothes, which Mr. Gold had left folded on a chair by the bed. Breakfast was orange juice and oatmeal, rich and thick with raisins and brown sugar - worlds better than the cheap, instant stuff the boy sometimes got from the store (it was always on sale, making it one of the cheapest meals he could get if he had money, and sold in single-serve packets that were easy to lift when he didn’t). Even so, Mr. Gold was apologetic.

“I’m afraid the kitchen’s not properly stocked - we’ll go to the grocery today.”

The boy shook his head. “This is great, thank you. Can I have some coffee?” he asked, noticing Mr. Gold had started a pot for himself.

Mr. Gold gave him a doubtful look. “You drink coffee?”

For a moment the boy felt self-conscious, as if he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to, but that was quickly replaced by irritation - who was Mr. Gold to tell him he couldn’t drink coffee? Even if Mr. Gold was his father, he wasn’t a child (nearly fifteen, he remembered Mr. Gold saying last night). “Yes,” he said in an annoyed tone.

Mr. Gold started at him a moment, then carefully answered, “All right. How do you take it?”

Deflating a bit, he replied, “However; I’m not picky.” He didn’t have much of a choice; coffee was a thing he usually only got when crashed some event at the community center or the Storybrooke Coffee Company.

“Cream and sugar then?”

“Sure.”

Everything suddenly felt awkward, a situation that did not improve during his appointment with Dr. Whale.

“You have no personal memories at all?” the doctor asked.

“Not from before.”

“Any head injuries?”

“Not that I remember,” the boy replied wryly.

“And how long has it been?”

“I… don’t know.”

“Weeks? Months?”

“Yes.”

“Hm. Where have you been living?”

“I…” the boy glanced over at Mr. Gold, who was gripping his cane tightly, but otherwise seemed only politely attentive. “I’d rather not say.”

Dr. Whale frowned.

“Have you had any injuries at all?”

“No.”

“Hm. I’m going to perform the physical exam now - Mr. Gold if you would wait outside?”

Mr. Gold gave Dr. Whale a warning stare, but stood up anyway. “I’ll be right outside if you need me,” he told the boy.

“OK.”

Once he was gone, Dr. Whale asked him in an insincerely solicitous voice, “Now, is there anything you want to tell me that you couldn’t say in front of you dad?”

“No.”

“OK, then - I’ll need you to change into this gown.”

The boy sighed.

XxXxXxX

Leaving the hospital with Bae - after making it clear on no uncertain terms that the blood test was to be handled by the fastest lab possible and processed with the utmost discretion - Rumplestiltskin noticed Mary Margaret and her students milling about. Saturday field trips were unusual, his curse-supplied memories told him, but he supposed it benefitted Regina to have Henry out of her way as much as possible these days.

Henry, he saw, broke away from the group and was heading back to where Regina’s John Doe was kept. He’d been unable to verify it yet, but he strongly suspected the patient would turn out to be Snow’s shepherd Prince. He’d been unable to locate him so far in town, and he doubted the man was dead - if nothing else, he knew Reul Ghorm would not allow such a thing to happen.

He wished the lad luck. If John Doe were actually David, bringing him and Mary Margaret together should help weaken the curse, and the more help Emma received from others the less Rumplestiltskin would have to get involved.

Today was for Bae.

Grocery shopping was their next order of business. It was more crowded than he would like, but there was really no putting it off. Bae had offered to push the cart when he saw Rumplestiltskin struggling with it (he usually used a basket, which was easier to handle one-handed), and he was again reminded how earnest and helpful his boy had always been. It was like nothing had changed - and yet everything had.

He must have given away too much by his expression, because Bae looked away nervously. Rumplestiltskin quickly diverted his attention to picking out fruits and vegetables in order to cover his lapse.

“Would you like some bananas?”

“No!” Bae said sharply, and Rumplestiltskin looked up, startled. Bae looked startled himself. “I’m sorry, I don’t… I don’t know why, but I really don’t like bananas.” He explained, looking almost ashamed.

“That’s all right,” Rumplestiltskin assured him. “Is there anything else you don’t like?”

“I don’t want to be a bother…”

This again.

“Look at me, Bae,” Rumplestiltskin said, putting his hand over Bae’s. Reluctantly, the boy did. “You are not a bother. You are not a problem. There is nothing in all the worlds I desire more than to take care of you, do you understand?”

Bae said nothing, but his eyes misted over. After a moment, he looked away and nodded jerkily. Despite that, Rumplestiltskin could see that he did not really understand - or that he simply did not believe him.

Rumplestiltskin felt sick. He knew - from deep, personal experience, he knew - what it took for a child to no longer believe their parent when they told them they were wanted, and although the had known that his actions had likely resulted in just that, to see it in person was nearly unbearable.

There was nothing he could say. He couldn’t even apologize properly when Bae did not remember what had happened. At a loss, he simply tightened his grip on Bae’s hand for a moment then let go. When Bae started pushing the cart forward - not, Rumplestiltskin thought, towards any particular destination - he simply followed in silence.

XxXxXxX

He shouldn’t have freaked out about the bananas. The boy didn’t know why he hated them so much, but the idea of eating one always turned his stomach. Coconuts and fish too, and he hoped Mr. Gold wouldn’t want to buy any of those.

He didn’t, fortunately. He did, however, seem excited about the ice cream.

Bae could not remember ever having had ice cream, though he knew it was supposed to be delicious. Mr. Gold certainly seemed to think so. He insisted Bae pick out two different flavors from the case of Ben & Jerry’s, and then picked out two more himself. Bae almost laughed when he realized that Mr. Gold, terror of Storybrooke, apparently felt that Coffee, Coffee BuzzBuzzBuzz! was an essential grocery item.

Things were a little easier after that - at least until checkout.

As they were shopping, the boy noticed that the townsfolk were giving them funny looks. He did suppose it must look odd - Mr. Gold shopping with some random teenager - but he knew Mr. Gold noticed the looks too and did not think that boded well. As they approached the checkout, the boy saw Mr. Gold straighten slightly, and suddenly he seemed colder, unapproachable. He’d done it at the hospital too, speaking to the receptionists, nurses, and Dr. Whale in the tone of a man who was not to be trifled with. The boy didn’t like it at all.

“Good morning, Mr. Gold,” the clerk - Tina - greeted warily. The boy had seen her around, as she lived in the apartment building not far from the abandoned house he was living in. He knew she worked several jobs and was always talking to her friend about the restaurant she would like to open. Like most people in town, she did not like or trust Mr. Gold.

“Good morning, Tina,” Mr. Gold replied, meeting her dark eyes challengingly before beginning to load groceries onto the belt. The boy scrambled to help.

Tina rang up and bagged their groceries with professional efficiency (the boy was taken aback when their total topped $150 - who spent that much on food?) but during the entire transaction both she and Mr. Gold gave off an aura of tense disapproval. The boy was glad when the exchange was over and they could leave.

On the way to the car, his worry got the better of him, and he had to ask, “Why is everyone afraid of you?”

Mr. Gold paused for just a moment before continuing on. “Well, there are lots of reasons, I suppose. I have a lot of power here, and people tend to fear that. I’m not very sociable. I always honor any agreements I have made to the letter and expect the same from those I deal with. And then there’s my reputation itself - over time, these things tend to take on a life of their own. Once enough people begin to fear you, more and more will start to simply because their neighbors do.”

“So it’s not deserved?”

Mr. Gold looked away, “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. I am a dangerous man to cross, and it is exceptionally unwise to enter into an agreement with me without understanding or intending to honor the terms, but I don’t wish harm on people who haven’t harmed me first.”

“But who could harm you if you have so much power?”

“Oh, there are ways, Bae. And I’m not the only person in town with power, either. Have you ever met the Mayor?”

“No, but I know everyone is afraid of her too.”

The reached the car and Mr. Gold looked at him very seriously. “For good reason. This is very important Bae - stay away from Mayor Mills. She is extremely dangerous, and she and I have a complicated history. She will not hesitate to use you to get to me, if she thinks she can get away with it.”

“Why would she want to get to you?”

“As I said, we have a complicated history, and Ms. Mills is known for holding a grudge. Additionally, she’s headed for some rather serious trouble, and she will want my help getting out of it, especially if she thinks she can force my hand.”

“Can she?”

Mr. Gold shook his head. “Oh, no; she’s not quite that good. However, she’ll not take it kindly when I turn her down, and she takes revenge wherever she can.”

The boy was getting scared. It hadn’t occurred to him before that someone like Mr. Gold was bound to have enemies, and that they might target his son. What have I gotten myself into?

His fear must have shown on his face, because Mr. Gold put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Listen to me, Bae. I will not let anyone hurt you, especially Mayor Mills. I know all her tricks and how she thinks. If she does try to target you, I can and will stop her. I’m warning you about her only so that she won’t be tempted to try; do you understand?”

Still scared, and not much reassured by the dark intensity in Mr. Gold’s voice, the boy nevertheless nodded. “Would… would you hurt her?”

“If she hurt you? Of course I would.”

“No!” the boy said, suddenly terrified in a way he didn’t understand, “You said you wouldn’t let her do that. I mean, would you hurt her if she tried? Or she did something by accident?”

“Ms. Mills does nothing by accident. But if she tries to hurt you, I will stop her.”

“But not hurt her?”

Mr. Gold grimaced. “Not any more than I have to to stop her.”

“And you won’t go after her family or anything, right?”

For the first time in their terrifying exchange, Mr. Gold looked almost hurt. “No, Bae; I’m not going to hurt Henry. If anyone is going to do that, it’s Ms. Mills.”

“What!?”

Mr. Gold was getting flustered. “I’m sorry, I’m frightening you. I shouldn’t have brought it up; we should stop talking about this.”

“What is she going to do the Henry?” The boy had never met Henry, but he knew he was the mayor’s son, and he was younger than him.

Mr. Gold sighed. “Henry is adopted. His birth mother arrived in town two days ago. She and Ms. Mills are already feuding, and I’m afraid Henry’s in the middle if it. I doubt Ms. Mills intends to cause him any harm, but this sort of thing can get messy.”

“Can you help?”

Another grimace. “Not unless either of them asks me to.”

“And you think Mayor Mills will. Ask.”

“Yes, but I’m not inclined to think that what she asks of me will be in Henry’s best interest.”

“And you think she might try to hurt me to make you help her.”

“If she thinks she can get away with it, yes - that’s why I’m going to make she knows that she can’t.”

Mr. Gold was saying all the right things, but the boy was still nervous. There was something in the older man’s expression that he didn’t trust. “And what about Henry’s birth mother? Do you think she’ll ask for your help?”

“She might.”

“And will you?”

“It depends on what she asks. However, I’m more inclined to help her than Regina.”

“You think it would be better for Henry?”

“Most likely, yes.”

The boy looked away. He was still worried about the whole thing, but it was clear that Mr. Gold understood the situation better then the boy did; he had an answer for everything.

After a moment, Mr. Gold changed the subject. “Come on; let’s get these home before the ice cream melts. I’ll make us some lunch, and then we’ll go out again for some clothes.”

Still worried, but not wanting to talk about it anymore, the boy nodded.

Wait, clothes?

XxXxXxX

Rumplestiltskin knew that he had said too much. While he had certainly needed to warn Bae about Regina, it had not been the time or place for that discussion.

He had, at least, avoided lying about anything. He really couldn’t help Henry unless Emma (or Regina, as unlikely as it was) gave him an opportunity to do so; the boy was too heavily involved.

Really, the best he could do by Henry was to help Emma break the curse. The sooner the boy was away from Regina, the safer he’d be, and if anyone was destined for a happy ending after the curse broke, surely it was the Savior’s boy.

Rumplestiltskin wasn’t worried about Henry; he was worried about Bae. Henry had the Savior and half the town in his corner already, and once the curse broke, he’d have the other half. Bae only had him, and once he remembered what Rumplestiltskin had done, he might not even want that.

He couldn’t think about that right now.

Today he had Bae all to himself, and he was going to make the most of it. “What would you like for lunch?” Rumplestiltskin asked as cheerfully as he could. Based on the look Bae gave him, he probably oversold it.

“Anything’s fine.”

“Anything? You know, it’s not terribly wise to write me a blank check like that. Suppose I came up with something truly awful?”

“Then you’d be stuck eating it too.”

For the first time in many, many years, Rumplestiltskin genuinely laughed.

And for a brief moment, Bae genuinely smiled.

XxXxXxX

Lunch was actually very good, although the boy probably should not have been surprised by now. Mr. Gold was clearly an excellent cook, and with fresh supplies, he was able to whip up excellent grilled sandwiches, which he served with fancy chips and cut vegetables (and yes, the boy learned that at Mr. Gold’s house, he was expected to eat his vegetables). And ice cream was amazing.

After that, they went clothes shopping - which was really, really awkward.

The boy supposed that he understood the need for it - after all, unless he was willing to show Mr. Gold were his base was (he wasn’t) he only had one change of clothes. On the other hand, if he thought they had attracted attention at the grocery store, it was nothing compared to the clothing store.

For one thing, they had to interact more with the staff, all of whom seemed either utterly terrified of Mr. Gold or fascinated by the idea that he had a son no one knew about.

And then there was that. The boy did not know how he felt about Mr. Gold telling people he was his son, especially before the blood test came back. The hospital was one thing; the boy knew that the staff was not supposed to gossip about their patients. Clothing store clerks, on the other hand, had no such restrictions. Unless, of course, you counted their fear of Mr. Gold, but the boy wasn’t betting on that. And he could tell Mr. Gold wasn’t either.

Then there was the money.

The boy knew Mr. Gold was rich; everyone knew that. Still, he was uncomfortable with anyone spending a lot of money on him, especially Mr. Gold. What if it turns out that I’m not his son? Will he expect me to pay him back? I won’t be able to; surely he knows that?

It didn’t help that Mr. Gold was suggesting far more things than the boy thought he needed; it was almost like Mr. Gold was trying to buy his affection, which the boy did not like at all. It took four or five times of the boy saying, “No thank you; I don’t need that,” for Mr. Gold to get the hint.

And then he looked stricken. “Of course, Bae; I’m sorry.”

And the boy felt guilty. Mr. Gold had been nothing but kind and patient with him, and the boy suddenly realized how horrible it must be to spend years looking for someone you love, only to find that that don’t remember you. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be ungrateful, I just…”

“I understand, Bae; it’s fine. It’s been a long day. Let’s finish up here, and we can always come back if we’ve forgotten anything.”

Glad to be given an out, the boy readily agreed. “OK. And thank you. For all of this.”

“Oh, Bae,” he looked stricken again, “You don’t have to thank me; I told you I’d take care of you.”

Then where were you before?

But the boy knew that was unfair. Mr. Gold had said he’d been looking for him for years - he’s been looking for Bae, I don’t know for sure I’m Bae - and the boy had no idea how they had been separated; it may not have been Mr. Gold’s fault at all. He wanted to ask, but at the same time he was afraid what the answer would be. I’ll ask. Later.

At a loss, the boy simply nodded, gathering up their purchases to take to the register.

Why does everything have to be so hard?

XxXxXxX

Bae was quiet and withdrawn for the rest of the evening. By the time they said goodnight, Rumplestiltskin was nearly out of his mind with worry. He knew it was natural - he knew that. Bae didn’t remember his father or even his own name; he’d been living alone on the streets of Storybrooke for the last 28 years, and who knew where he’d been and what had happened to him before that? Of course, none of that alleviated Rumplestiltskin’s worry in the slightest.

How can I help him if he won’t talk to me?

But why should he when I didn’t listen before?

But he doesn’t remember that.

Does he?

In all likelihood, without cursed memories to get in the way, Bae was closer to his real memories than anyone in town except Regina and Rumplestiltskin himself.

Could he get them back before the curse breaks?

Do I want him to?

Rumplestiltskin shook himself; that was a vile thought. Bae deserved the truth, no matter how much it might hurt him to lose his boy a second time. He’d be safer with his true memories as well; awful as they were, Regina could still replace them with something worse if Rumplestiltskin wasn’t able to invoke the geas and get the wording just right. Thinking of Bae’s shawl in his safe, and his leather ball (which even Gold would never, ever sell) on display in his shop, Rumplestiltskin resolved to show them to Bae the next day and see if they triggered something.

Before I lose my courage.

Chapter Text

Mr. Gold’s shop was amazing.

After an excellent breakfast of bacon, eggs, and fried potatoes, Mr. Gold had told the boy they were going to open the shop today. Anything besides more clothes shopping was fine with him.

Mr. Gold had smiled when he had said so.

The shop was like the house in that there were things everywhere, but everything here was organized and dust-free. At least in the front - the back was another story.

Mr. Gold let him poke around for a few minutes, but was growing more and more anxious, and the boy could tell that he had something to say to him. When he saw Mr. Gold opening a safe hidden behind a painting, the boy walked over to him. “What’s in there?” he asked.

“Some things I want you to look at.”

“What for?”

Having grabbed what he needed, Mr. Gold turned to the boy. “I want to see if they might help you remember anything.”

“Oh. OK.”

Mr. Gold put two bundles of really old looking cloth on the counter, then grabbed an equally old looking leather ball from where it was displayed on top of another case. He showed Bae the ball first.

“This is yours. Do you remember it at all?”

Somewhat shyly, the boy reached for the ball. It looked nothing like the balls the kids played with in the park. It was made of leather around some kind of stuffing; not air like most of the balls the boy had seen. It had also clearly been stitched together by hand, not made in a factory. There were no logos or manufacturer’s mark anywhere.

“What kind of ball is this?” the boy asked.

“I made it for you,” Mr. Gold answered, “A long time ago.”

“Oh.” Instead of just buying a ball like everyone else, Mr. Gold had made this; it was clearly very special to him. The boy felt he should remember such a special gift. Maybe I’m not his son after all, if I can’t remember this.

“And then there’s this,” Mr. Gold said, placing one of the cloth bundles on the counter next to the ball. He unfolded it a bit, and the boy saw it was simply a piece of cloth, worn thin in a few places and with frayed edges.

“What is it?”

“It’s, well, I supposed you’d call it your baby blanket. Your mother made it from thread I spun.”

“Oh,” the boy said quietly, reaching out to touch the fabric reverently. It looked like it might be course, but somehow he was not surprised to find it was actually quite soft. Is it familiar, or did I just know that it would be soft because he said it was a baby blanket? He couldn’t tell.

Mr. Gold shifted nervously. “And there’s one more thing.”

The boy stopped stroking the cloth and looked at him attentively. Jaw set, Mr. Gold picked up the second bundle he had taken from the safe and unwrapped it to reveal some sort of knife. It had a long, wavy blade with the name Rumplestiltskin carved into it in heavy, forbidding type.

“Be careful; it’s very sharp,” Mr. Gold said.

“I wasn’t going to touch it,” the boy said immediately; he didn’t want to touch that knife. It was ridiculous, he knew, but somehow it seemed… evil. He really, really didn’t want to touch it.

“Do you… have any memory of this?”

“No,” the boy replied immediately, “But…”

“Yes?”

“It… I don’t like it.” It scares me.

Mr. Gold gave a sort of sad smile. “I don’t like it either. What do you say we destroy it?”

“I… yes. Let’s do that.” The boy grinned at him.

Mr. Gold smiled back.

XxXxXxX

Of course, he didn’t exactly have the tools necessary to do so right there in the shop. Fortunately, it was Sunday, and it was Mr. Gold’s habit to close the shop at noon on Sundays.

Walking back to the house after closing up (they would need the car to pick up the steel cutter), Mr. Gold noticed more than the usual number of nervous stares being cast in his direction. It was unfortunate, although not terribly unexpected.

It was odd enough that Mr. Gold - the town monster - would have a son no one knew about and had been seen all about town yesterday publicly doting on him, but now they were headed to the Marine Garage to rent a steel cutter. He should probably plan to have Bae with him when he returned it, or that nervous mouse was likely to think he’d dismembered the boy and buried him in his back yard. The mouse really was ridiculously afraid of him considering he owed him no debts and was only sapient because of him (he wasn’t even Mr. Gold’s tenant - his building was owned by Midas, as was most of the low-income housing in Storybrooke). It didn’t bother Rumplestiltskin, particularly, but it could be annoying.

But at least the mouse knew his trade.

An hour later, he and Bae were on their way back to the house with an oxygen-fueled torch capable of cutting though six-inch steel and two sets of requisite safety gear. Billy had even given him a quick but thorough lesson how to use the thing, although he did, as Rumplestiltskin had predicted, seemed rather concerned about what he intended to use it for.

In retrospect, Rumplestiltskin’s response of “That’s really none of your business, is it, dearie?” probably hadn’t helped matters. Bae had also looked uncomfortable when he'd said it. He would really have to be more careful with how he spoke to the townsfolk around Bae. He knew the boy had been bothered by it before, and while he would certainly not be turning anyone into a snail here in Storybrooke, it would do no good to (consciously or unconsciously) remind Bae of times when he had.

Destroying the dagger should help. While Bae seemed to have no conscious memory of it, he had definitely had a negative reaction to it. Rumplestiltskin wasn’t sure if it was the result of his memories influencing him or some inherent quality of the dagger, but he would certainly agree that even in this Land Without Magic, the dagger projected a certain sense of wrongness.

He would be glad to be rid of it.

He would he keep telling himself that.

Not wanting to delay - the longer I wait, the harder it will be - Rumplestiltskin made them a quick lunch of salad and cold sandwiches and then set up the torch in front of the garage.

Bae actually seemed a bit excited by the whole thing. Dagger aside, they were having a bit of fun with a piece if industrial equipment that cut things with flame - what teenage boy wouldn’t love that?

As he laid the dagger on top of a small tower of battered cinderblocks, Rumplestiltskin mused that it had never looked less threatening. But then no one knew as well as he did that appearances could be deceiving.

Not about to take unnecessary risks - especially with Bae’s safety - Rumplestiltskin made certain that Bae’s protective gloves, apron, and visor were in place before securing his own. He also made Bae stand back a bit further than was probably strictly necessary.

Taking a deep breath, Rumplestiltskin lit the torch and ran the flame slowly down the blade. The resulting shower of sparks was truly impressive.

The dagger was completely unaffected.

Frowning, Rumplestiltskin directed the flame to cut the blade in two. More sparks, and yet the dagger remained untouched.

Desperate, he held the flame directly on the R of his name for a full minute. Any ordinary blade would have been reduced to a puddle. Not the Dark One’s dagger.

Accepting defeat, he turned off the torch, and raised his visor. After a moment, Bae followed suit. The boy could tell something was wrong. How am I going to explain this?

“What happened?”

“I’m afraid it’s made of sterner stuff than I thought.”

“Oh. What do we do?”

“I’m not sure. Short of tossing it into a volcano, I’m not sure what else might work.”

Seeing that he was trying to make a joke of it, the boy played along. “How about throwing it down a well?”

“That might not be a good idea,” Rumplestiltskin said, perhaps more quickly than he ought. In fact, he was quite certain that it was a very bad idea considering the only open well in town was also a gateway to magic.

“Oh. Toss it in the ocean?”

“Ah, but then some unsuspecting fisherman might drag it up.”

“We could bury it somewhere. In a very deep hole.”

Rumplestiltskin nodded. “Yes. Let’s do that.”

XxXxXxX

Something had shifted. While the boy was more disappointed than he probably should have been that they had been unable to destroy the creepy knife, he still felt better after their little adventure with the steel cutter. It helped that Mr. Gold had agreed to cut up an old piece of pipe they had found in the garage just so they could say they’d destroyed something. The boy would have loved to have used the torch himself, but the rental agreement had specified no operators under the age of eighteen, and the boy couldn’t really argue with that.

However, Mr. Gold had, after warning him about the sharp edges, let him gather up the bits of pipe and showed him how to file the edges down so he could keep them for… something. He didn’t know. Maybe he just wanted a reminder of the first bit of real fun he’d had in a long, long time.

After they’d finished with the torch and packed it back up in the car (they would be returning it tomorrow) they went back inside to clean up the house a bit more. The night before, Mr. Gold had helped him move all the clutter out of his room, and they’d vacuumed and dusted. Today they were tackling the living room. As they worked, Mr. Gold brought up the subject of school.

“Until you get your memory back, I think it would be best if I taught you myself,” he said carefully.

The boy blinked. “You can do that?”

“Oh, yes. I’ll be contacting the school district tomorrow, after our appointment with Dr. Whale.” The boy swallowed thickly, remembering the results of the paternity test were due back then. Mr. Gold appeared to have no doubt about what they would say. The boy wished he were so certain.

Mr. Gold noticed his change in mood. “I’m not… I’m not trying to keep you a prisoner, Bae, I just don’t think high school is the best place for you right now; they’ll expect you to know things you have no memory of.”

It took the boy a moment to puzzle out was Mr. Gold was getting at. “Oh, no, that’s…” That wasn’t what he had been worried about, but he didn’t want to talk about what they would do if he wasn’t Mr. Gold’s son. Mr. God seemed so sure, and they’d know the truth by tomorrow anyway. “That’s fine.”

“Are you sure? I can look into tutors if you’d like that better.” The boy could that tell Mr. Gold would not like that better. “And you won’t be shut up in the house all the time. You’ll come to the shop with me, and you can be out around town during the day as well. I just don’t want you out at night unless I’m with you.”

The boy nodded; that seemed reasonable to him. Mr. Gold still looked worried. He put down the rag and furniture polish he’d be using and placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “I know this is hard for you, Bae. I know you don’t remember me, but please believe me when I say I only want what’s best for you.”

“I know.”

“I haven’t… I haven’t always done things right by you. If I do something wrong, if I make you unhappy, I need you to tell me, and I’ll find a way to fix it, all right?”

The boy nodded again. “OK.”

Mr. Gold gave him a sad smile. “I love you, Bae.”

The boy didn’t know what to say to that. Fortunately, Mr. Gold did not seem to expect any sort of answer. He just squeezed his shoulders lightly for a moment and then stepped back and went back to dusting. Not sure what else to do, the boy did the same.

XxXxXxX

When they got to the hospital the next morning, the place was in an uproar, and Dr. Whale was nowhere to be found.

Infuriated by the delay, Rumplestiltskin snapped and snarled at the hospital staff for a minute or two before he saw the expression on Bae’s face and stopped mid-threat. Gripping his cane and taking a deep breath, he beat down his temper (with difficulty) and tried a different tactic.

“We are here for some very important test results, and only that. If Dr. Whale has been called away by an emergency, surely someone else can help us?”

They scrambled to find someone, eventually getting approval by Dr. Whale to have a nurse practitioner deliver the results. In the confusion, Rumplestiltskin was able to pick up on the nature of Dr. Whale’s emergency - apparently, Regina’s John Doe had awakened at some point last night and was currently missing.

That was certainly a welcome development. Even if John Doe wasn’t Charming, it was a significant change in the daily life of Storybrooke, and would provide something for the gossip mill to focus on other than him and Bae (and really, any help they could get in that respect was welcome - he would not be held accountable for his actions if Sidney Glass attempted to write an exposé about his son’s mysterious appearance). Rumplestiltskin just hoped that if John Doe was Charming, he wouldn’t go and get himself killed; Snow’s Prince was much more useful to him alive.

Soon enough, they were shuffled off into an exam room and then joined by a heavily pregnant woman who had a smile for Bae and an utterly unimpressed look for Gold.

Rumplestiltskin immediately liked her better than Whale.

“I’m Camilla, or Nurse Quispe if you prefer.”

Bae gave her a nervous “Hi” while Rumplestiltskin merely nodded.

“OK, I’m going to walk you through your test results. Paternity test results don’t come back as a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’; they come back in terms of what percent of the measured DNA markers match between the two samples tested. Based on that number, the candidate can be excluded or not excluded as the child’s father. If there is a 0% match, the candidate is excluded, and he cannot be the child’s father. If the match is above 99.9%, the candidate is not excluded, and the chances of someone else being the child’s father is so remote that it is accepted that the candidate is the father. If the match is above 0% but below 99.9%, the test was inconclusive, and we would recommend you take the test again, perhaps with a different lab. Do you understand?” she asked Bae.

Rumplestiltskin definitely liked her better than Whale.

Bae nodded. Nurse Quispe opened the folder she was carrying and placed it on the counter in front of them. She pointed to the relevant information. “Here you can see the match was 99.99%, and here is the conclusion ‘not excluded’.”

Rumplestiltskin looked at Bae. He, of course, knew what the test would say, but he gathered Bae had not been so sure. Bae’s head was down, his eyes on the test results. Rumplestiltskin said nothing, giving him time to process what this meant for him.

After a minute or two, he looked up, his eyes wet. “So you really are my father?”

Rumplestiltskin smiled, “Yes, Bae.”

Bae let out a quiet, shuddering sob, and, concerned, Rumplestiltskin placed his a hand between his shoulder blades. Bae shuddered again, and then threw himself at Rumplestiltskin, wrapping his arms around his shoulders in a tight hug. Startled, Rumplestiltskin froze for a moment, and then hugged back just as fiercely. Mine. I have him back, and no one is going to take him from me again.

“I love you Bae,” he said.

Bae said nothing, just cried.

Rumplestiltskin let him.

XxXxXxX

I have a father.

I have a name.

I have a home.

It was too much. The boy - Bae, he was Bae now - knew that he had wanted Mr. Gold to be right about being his father, but he didn’t think finding out would be like this. He felt like a complete idiot crying in the middle of the hospital like that, but he couldn’t help himself.

Mr. Gold - Dad? Am I supposed to call him Dad now? - didn’t seem to care. He just let Bae cry and held him until he pulled back on his own. Then he offered his handkerchief. He was smiling, but it looked like he had cried a bit too.

“Thanks,” Bae muttered, wiping his eyes and blowing his nose.

“Of course, Bae.”

They didn’t stick around for long after that; there was too much to do. First they dropped off the steel cutter. Next was City Hall to file the paperwork for Bae to start homeschooling, and then the pawnshop.

“Officially, my hours are nine to six Monday through Saturday, and nine to noon on Sunday, but that can be changed if needs be. And I meant what I said before; you’re free to walk around town during the day, as long as you let me know where you are going and you’re up to date on your school assignments. I’d like you to carry a cell phone too; we can take care of that this afternoon. Do you… do you have any questions for me?” He looked suddenly nervous, like he feared what Bae might say.

Bae shifted anxiously; he had a lot of questions he wasn’t sure how to ask. After a moment, he blurted out, “What should I call you? I can’t keep calling you Mr. Gold, but…” he trailed off, not sure how to say that calling Mr. Gold ‘Dad’ didn’t feel right to him.

His father smiled. “Call me whatever you like. If you are more comfortable with Mr. Gold, that’s fine. Or ‘Dad’. Before, though, you… you called me ‘Papa’. But… just do what makes you the most comfortable.”

“OK.” Papa. Somehow, it felt more right than ‘Dad’.

“Was there anything else?” Mr. Gold - Papa - asked.

There was, of course, but it was too much for Bae to sort though just then, so he shook his head. Papa put a hand on his shoulder and said, kindly, “At any time, if you have any questions, you can ask me. All right?” Overwhelmed, Bae nodded, but said nothing.

“I’ve a few odds and ends to take care of around here, and then I thought we’d get some lunch, and then pick up a phone for you and a copy of the house key.”

“OK.”

After waffling a moment, Papa gave him a quick, impulsive hug. “I love you, Bae.”

Bae hugged back, but said nothing. Someday, he was sure he would, but he just wasn’t ready yet.

XxXxXxX

It was, in Rumplestiltskin’s estimation, a very good day. Bae was still a bit skittish, of course, but the test results appeared to be the key to getting him to open up to the possibility of this new life.

Based on Bae’s love of coffee, Rumplestiltskin thought sandwiches from the Storybrooke Coffee Company would be a better choice for lunch than the gossip hub that was Granny’s diner. The sandwiches were only fair, but the complicated drink he ordered for Bae with caramel and whipped cream kept him in the boy’s good graces.

After lunch was a stop at the office of the one and only telecommunications company in Storybrooke for a cell phone and new modem. He old set-up was adequate for his oft-ignored desktop, but Bae’s new laptop was due to arrive on Wednesday and Rumplestiltskin knew it would require something better.

Their last stop was the Five and Dime, were they had a copy of the house key made and then browsed the books. Rumplestiltskin picked up a copy of To Kill a Mockingbird for Bae. He’d been looking at recommended reading lists, and was happy to have one less book to order online.

“Would you like anything else?” Rumplestiltskin. He had the means now to give his boy anything he wanted; he was going to take advantage of it.

“Um, maybe a little… chain?”

Rumplestiltskin blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that. “A chain?”

“For... the key?”

“Oh! Yes, of course.”

The key chains were back in the hardware section, and Bae took a minute before picking out one that was just the ring attached to a plastic tag by a loop of beaded chain. Confused, but afraid to question his choice, Rumplestiltskin simply paid for it along with the key and book.

The mystery was solved later that evening, when he saw Bae slip the key onto the ring and then replace the tag with a bit of the pipe they’d cut up yesterday. He smiled fondly.

After Bae went to bed, Rumplestiltskin would make inquires about the fate of the John Doe. Until then, he would simply enjoy the time with his son.

XxXxXxX

John Doe had been found alive and as well as could be expected, which was excellent news. That Mary Margaret had been the one to find him was even better; it confirmed that not only was Charming alive and back in play, but he and Snow were already being drawn to one another. Emma had also moved in with Mary Margaret, and Rumplestiltskin was starting to think the curse might just break itself without any interference from him at all.

The only hiccup was David’s ‘wife’, Kathryn Nolan. Well, he certainly couldn’t expect Regina to give up without a fight, could he? He’d make a point of tracking her down this evening if she didn’t come to see him first; he wanted to have the geas in place before she started altering memories.

He needn’t have worried.

Regina entered his shop just after the clock struck noon. Rumplestiltskin had been about to suggest that he and Bae open the lunches they had packed (elaborate coffee was all well and good, but day to day, his best bet for making sure Bae ate well was to make their meals himself).

“Mayor Mills, what can I do for you?”

Regina smiled that smug, needling smile that would have been pure Cora if she’d added a touch of seduction to it. He was immeasurably glad that she did not.

“Hello, Mr. Gold. How are you today?”

“I am very well, thank you. Yourself?”

“Fine. I just thought I’d check in with you; I’ve heard some interesting rumors about you in the past few days, and I was concerned.”

Rumplestiltskin gave Regina one of Gold’s shark-like smiles. “No need for concern; I’ve been extremely fortunate. Although perhaps Mr. Nolan was more fortunate still.” There, let her know he was still keeping tabs - he would not let her think Bae could be used as a distraction.

Of course, Bae chose just that moment to come out from the back of the shop. “Papa?”

Regina raised an eyebrow, but Rumplestiltskin was not about to let her think she had gained anything. His smile turned genuine as he looked at Bae, and gestured him to come forward. “Bae, I’d like you to meet Mayor Mills. Ms. Mills, this is my son, Baeden.”

“Nice to meet you Baeden,” Regina said immediately, extending her hand for him to shake.

Bae looked at him, clearly remembering his earlier waning about Regina. Rumplestiltskin nodded; it would benefit no one for Regina to feel snubbed. Obediently, Bae shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mayor Mills,” he said automatically. Back in the Frontlands, Rumplestiltskin had made a point of teaching his son manners, and Bae had been perfectly obedient on that score (in most things, actually).

Still smiling, Regina turned to him. “Such nice manners. I didn’t know you had a son, Mr. Gold.”

“You know what a private person I am, Ms. Mills.” He wasn’t about to make Regina’s little fishing expedition easy.

“Of course; I understand. I was just concerned, you see. As Mayor, I am responsible for the safety of all the citizens in Storybrooke, especially children. Is Mr. Gold taking good care of you?” she asked Bae in a sickly sweet tone. Rumplestiltskin gripped his cane tighter. He did not like the idea of Regina even speaking to Bae; her daring to condescend to him ignited his temper like a match to dry leaves. It was a struggle not to let it burn out of control.

Bae, for his part, was neither intimidated nor impressed. “Yes,” he replied simply.

The corner of Regina’s mouth quirked. “That’s good.” Then she turned her attention back to him. “I’m sure you’ve got everything under control, Mr. Gold. Will we be seeing Baeden in school on Monday?”

“I’m being homeschooled,” Bae answered her. Still fearless when confronted by a bully, his Bae.

“We filed the paperwork with the superintendent yesterday. The Department of Education received their copy today.” He’d checked.

“Excellent. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Rumplestiltskin almost shook his head. He’d taught her better than to give him an opening like that. Then again, she didn’t know whom she was dealing with, and he had no intention of revealing that little detail any time soon.

“Actually, there is,” he answered. He’d spent the last four days crafting just the right wording to snap the geas around Regina like a bear trap. If he watched his tone, she’d never even suspect he might be doing it on purpose. “Dr. Whale has diagnosed Baeden with amnesia.” Her eyebrows rose at that and he continued quickly before she could get a word in edgewise. “As you can imagine, I’m very concerned that his treatment remain in the hands of professionals, and he be left alone to recover in peace. All I ask from you is that neither you, nor anyone in your employ, endanger his ability to remember by interfering in any way. Please.”

In this Land Without Magic, he had not idea if it mattered, but he poured all his love and desire to protect Bae into those words. Outwardly, however, he projected only a sincere air of concern. To Regina, he was not a centuries-old sorcerer binding her with a magic compulsion; he was merely a concerned father asking for a favor.

She blinked. She swayed for just the briefest moment, then said, “You’re not usually so polite, Mr. Gold.”

He smiled. “When it come to my son’s wellbeing, Ms. Mills, I think you will find there nothing I will not do. As a parent yourself, I’m sure you understand.” Actually, he was sure that she didn’t, and he didn’t intend to let her live long enough after the breaking of the curse to learn. “Of course, if you’d like to be threatened, I’m sure I can think of something suitably gruesome.”

The snark in is tone disguised the very real nature of his threat; Regina, of course, caught it anyway. Still, she took the opening he’d given her. “Of course I do. I was actually hoping to talk to you a moment about Henry. I supposed you’ve heard his birth mother is in town?”

Rumplestiltskin nodded, “I did. She’s moved in with one of my tenants.”

Regina narrowed her eyes. “Miss Blanchard?”

“Indeed. She called me this morning to verify that taking on a roommate is in compliance with her lease.” Rumplestiltskin had to hand it to Miss Blanchard; she was a conscientious tenant, even if she struggled with the rent.

Regina looked hopeful for a moment. “Is it?”

Rumplestiltskin smiled, “Yes. And before you ask, I looked into the town ordinance regarding felons; it does not apply to permanent residences, so I am in compliance.”

Regina frowned. “I see.”

Of course, there was no such ordinance at all, but her staff was well trained to pass along any lie she demanded of them. Fortunately, Rumplestiltskin knew exactly what questions to ask to get the answer he wanted, and because the ordinance did not exist - and she knew that he of all people could prove so if needed - she could not challenge his interpretation. Someone at the Mayor’s office was going to be in trouble. Rumplestiltskin did not care a whit.

“That wasn’t what I wanted to ask you, however,” Regina said. “I have some questions about Henry’s adoption.”

“Ah.” Honestly, there wasn’t much to say, but confidentiality was confidentiality. Rumplestiltskin pulled out his wallet and handed Bae a ten. “Do you know where the bakery is?” Bae nodded. “Why don’t you pick up some cookies for after lunch while I talk to Ms. Mills?”

Bae glanced at her (her impatience was starting to show, but she wasn’t exuding that aura of danger she had fully cultivated as the Evil Queen - yet) then carefully took the money. “What kind?”

Rumplestiltskin smiled. “Any kind you like.”

Bae smiled back. “OK.” He walked around the counter and stopped in front of Regina. “It was nice to meet you, Mayor Mills,” he said with polite stiffness.

Regina smiled. “It was nice to meet you too, Baeden.”

“I’ll be back soon, Papa.” Rumplestiltskin’s gut clenched as the little bell jingled and Bae headed off down the street. It was ridiculous, he knew, but after nearly three centuries of separation, letting him out into the world alone went against every instinct he had, and he ached to run after him and drag him back inside. He was going to have to work on that.

“Now,” He turned to Regina, eager to have her out of his hair, “What did you want to know?”

“Does she have any grounds to challenge the adoption?” Straight and to the point - Rumplestiltskin appreciated it, even if he appreciated nothing else about her visit.

“No. The adoption was completely legal; all i’s dotted and t’s crossed. The window to change her mind had long since closed.”

Regina actually sighed in relief. Perhaps he had underestimated her feelings for Henry - not that it seemed to be stopping her from gaslighting the poor boy. “What about the father?”

Now that was a good question. “His name does not even appear on the birth certificate. I have no reason to believe that he even knows about Henry’s existence.”

Regina nodded. “Good.”

That was not to say there was no threat to Regina’s custody; there was. The curse breaking and Regina’s inevitable imprisonment (or death) soon thereafter would most certainly separate her from her son. Rumplestiltskin was well aware of that, and he knew Regina was too. He was honestly surprised she hadn’t yet come to him for help with her little Savior problem, but then she still thought he was Gold, and the longer he waited to disabuse her of that notion, the better. Toward that end, he wanted her out of his shop; the longer she stayed, the more tempted he was to taunt her.

“Any other questions, Ms. Mills?”

Regina pursed her lips. “Not at the moment. I’ll contact you if any crop up.”

“Of course.”

“Enjoy your time with your son.”

“And you, Mayor Mills.”

He was more than glad to see the back of her. And he most certainly did not spend the next fifteen minutes until Bae got back pacing and compulsively checking the clocks on the walls. Certainly not.

Chapter Text

Over the course of the rest of the week, Rumplestiltskin and Bae fell into a pleasant sort of routine. As promised, Bae’s new laptop arrived Wednesday afternoon, and his books started coming in on Thursday. As Rumplestiltskin had expected, Bae’s academic skills were extremely limited, but his reading, at least, was not as quite as bad as Rumplestiltskin had feared. Back in the Frontlands, Rumplestiltskin had taught Bae everything he had learned from the spinsters (which, unfortunately, wasn’t much) and was able to teach him a bit more after becoming the Dark One (before it all went so wrong). Apparently, Bae had been able to work on his reading some since then, at least in part by scrounging copies of the Mirror and various magazines around Storybrooke.

Rumplestiltskin was proud of Bae’s resourcefulness, even as his blood burned when he thought of his son spending nearly three decades alone and essentially homeless less than a mile from Rumplestiltskin’s own under-used mansion (yes, Bae had told him about the abandoned house - it was not in Rumplestiltskin’s eyes any kind of home, even if it had a sound roof and running water).

But that was in the past. Now Bae had a home, and books, and a very modern computer that even Rumplestiltskin was slightly intimidated by. Wednesday evening had been devoted to showing Bae how to use the Internet and word processing. After establishing that Bae had never even touched a computer before, computer time became a nightly ritual.

During the day, Rumplestiltskin assessed Bae’s other skills, and drew up lesson plans get him caught up to where a ninth-grader ought to be. He enjoyed it immensely, even if Bae often found it frustrating. Truthfully, Rumplestiltskin had always rather enjoyed teaching, and Bae had always, always been his favorite student.

It also helped that Mr. Gold’s business dealings were so regular they required little attention except on rent days, tax time, and the beginning and end of the fiscal year. Even the curse had not required Rumplestiltskin’s attention these past few days, as neither Emma nor Regina had made a move. Rumplestiltskin had started looking into employment options for Miss Swan, but had decided not to interfere for the time being in case something manifested itself.

Friday evening, something did, although not quite what he had been expecting.

The call from the alarm company came just after eight. When they got to the shop (Rumplestiltskin debated bringing Bae, but ultimately decided against leaving him at home alone), they found glass all over the floor, the safe exposed but still locked, and the register broken into. There’d only been the $100 in change he usually kept in there, but he had a suspicion that this hadn’t been about money.

He was right.

“Foolish girl,” he muttered, watching the security footage of Ella (Ashley) approaching the shop. Had she really thought that stealing the physical contract would help her keep her baby? Aside from the fact that he had a copy at the house as well as the shop, like all his contracts it complied with the letter (if not the spirit) of the law, which meant that Ashley had until three days after surrendering the child to change her mind.

Of course, while he knew that, Ashley probably didn’t. His cursed memories indicated that, as in the Enchanted Forest, Ashley had signed the papers without familiarizing herself with the details, even when he had warned her that she should. But really, how hard was it to Google? Five minutes on the Internet would have informed her of her rights, and no matter how frightening his reputation, the law would have been on her side.

Instead she'd decided to rob him.

He pitied the baby, cursed with such a foolish mother. Well, perhaps he could give her a bit of a wake-up call as he roped Emma into tracking her down. He had Seen that Ella’s baby would facilitate a deal with the Savior in the World Without Magic, although he had not known the exact details. Now, though, the way was clear.

First thing tomorrow, he would hire Emma to find Ella (he certainly hoped she didn’t actually try to leave town until then - that could end badly for the babe) ostensibly (and actually) to rescue her from her own foolishness. He would then threaten to press charges, and the Savior would live up to her title by getting him to back down, thus rescuing the fair (moronic) princess from a terrible fate (that she agreed to and fully deserved). A perfect fairy-tale ending.

Except.

Bae.

Bae - who seemed to trust him a little more each day, and oh, how Rumplestiltskin had missed that - would not understand. Even if it were mostly an act (he had no intention of actually pressing charges, after all), Mr. Gold would be the villain of the tale. Bae would hear stories about how his father had terrorized poor Ashley Boyd and almost stolen her baby. Terrorized - Bae used that word before, didn’t he?

Rumplestiltskin couldn’t change what he’d done in the past or the reputation he already had, but if he wanted to be the father Bae deserved, he could no longer act the part of the villain. How else could he play it, then? Emma would hardly be convinced he was simply a concerned citizen, and that was not a role he could pull off for long anyway. Not to mention that if Emma walked away from this owing him nothing, he’d have lost an opportunity to acquire another layer of protection for Bae; having the Savior on his side would help considerably should Regina try anything.

He was planning to cast Ashley as the innocent, overwhelmed teen mother in all this, and thus give Emma someone to identify with and thus protect. Bae was a boy who'd lost his family and found it again - surely Emma would identify with that too?

He didn’t like relying on other people’s good intentions; in his experience, a contract was much more reliable. But must the two always be at odds?

He adjusted his plan.

XxXxXxX

“Miss Blanchard,” Rumplestiltskin greeted. “Is Miss Swan here?”

The brunette looked behind her at Emma, obviously confused by what he might want with her roommate; it was enough to catch Emma’s attention. As she approached, he extended his hand. “Hi, my name is Mr. Gold. We met briefly on your arrival?”

Emma’s handshake was firm. “I remember.”

“Good. I have a proposition for you Miss Swan - I need your help. I’m looking for someone.”

“Really, um,” Emma looked at Mary Margaret, clearly asking for permission to invite him in.

Mary Margaret, apparently too timid to make the decision outright, deflected. “You know what? I’m just going to go jump in the bath.” She fled.

Emma looked at him in confusion. “I have a photo,” he offered, handing her a printout he had taken from the security footage and limping into the apartment. “Her name is Ashley Boyd. Last night, she broke into my shop, looking for some legal documents. When she didn’t find them, she robbed the cash register instead.”

“Then why don’t you just go to the police?” Emma asked, still examining the photograph.

“Because she’s a confused young woman. She’s pregnant. Alone, and scared. I don’t want to ruin this young girl’s life, but I do need to address what she’s done. Additionally, I’m afraid she might try to flee town, which she does not have the resources to do safely; she would be putting the baby at risk because of a misunderstanding.”

Emma raised a skeptical eyebrow. “A misunderstanding?”

“I’m afraid that legal confidentiality prevents me from telling you any more than that without Ashley’s permission.”

“Hm. When did you see her last?” Emma asked, clearly still skeptical.

“In person? Several months ago. However, that photograph was taken by my security cameras last night. Miss Swan, please help me find her. My only other choice is the police, and I don’t think anyone wants to see that baby born in jail, do they?” That was rather on the nose, but Emma was being difficult.

“No, of course not.” She crossed her arms defensively.

“So you’ll help me then?”

“I will help her.” There it is.

“Good.”

As he was handing Emma a business card with his cell number written on it, the front door of the apartment opened. “Hey, Emma, I was thinking we could-” Henry froze when he spotted him.

“Hey, Henry, how are you?” Rumplestiltskin asked. He was going for genuinely friendly. He was fairly certain he had not managed it.

“O…K,” Henry replied hesitantly. Yes, he definably hadn’t.

“Good. Give my regards to your mother.” He stopped on his way out the door and said, “And, um, good luck, Miss Swan.”

She nodded.

He closed the door behind him and limped down the stairs. Bae was waiting for him outside. “Is she going to help?”

Rumplestiltskin had given Bae a brief explanation of the reasons behind the break-in, although he had not mentioned Ashley’s name or any details of the contract (that was confidential, after all, and Bae didn’t need to know any of that anyway). As with Emma, he’d blamed it all on a misunderstanding - more like willful ignorance - and explained how he thought this was the best way to help her and the baby. While true, Ella’s welfare had no actual bearing on why he was doing this - but Bae didn’t need to know that either. At least his concern for the baby had been sincere.

“Yes, she is. Everything will work out, I’m sure.”

Bae smiled.

XxXxXxX

Bae supposed he might be entitled to resent having to do school work on Saturdays, but he was already three months behind on Ninth grade, not even counting what he could not remember from previous years. And Papa was a good teacher.

“So why do you think the framers designed their new government this way?” Papa asked.

“Because they didn’t want to live under a king anymore. They wanted to make the laws themselves.”

“And why did they distribute power between three branches like they did?”

“So that no one person could take over everything and become the new king.”

Papa nodded. “No one person or small group of people, yes. Of course, the framers were not as free with their new power as they could have been; only certain people were allowed to vote. Women and-”

Papa’s cell phone rang.

“Gold.” A pause. “I see. Thank you for the information.”

Papa hung up quickly and slipped his phone back in his pocket. “Miss Swann has found Miss Boyd. They’re at the hospital; she’s having the baby now.”

“That’s OK, isn’t it?”

“Should be. I’ve got to speak to Miss Swan, and we can have this whole thing cleared up. Grab your backpack; I’m going to lock up.”

“OK.”

XxXxXxX

When they got to the waiting room, Bae obediently took a seat just inside the entrance. Emma was pacing next to Henry, and she tensed when she saw him.

“A misunderstanding?” She asked accusingly.

Rumplestiltskin may have been intending to play this as pleasantly as he could, but he was no pushover. “Yes,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Which I am sure we can resolve to everyone’s satisfaction. If you will?” He gestured to the partially sheltered area by the coffee machine; there was no need to do this in front of Henry and Bae.

Still frowning, Emma nonetheless followed him. He doubted she would have shown as much restraint had Henry not been there.

“What part of selling a baby is a ‘misunderstanding’?” she demanded once he turned to face her.

“That interpretation of the situation, for one. It’s not uncommon for birth mothers to be given compensation to cover their living expenses and medical bills; giving birth in a modern medical setting is expensive.”

“Then why was she not getting paid beforehand, when she needed it?”

Because Regina is a spiteful bitch. “Because that is not the arrangement Miss Boyd agreed to.” Technically true. In the Enchanted Forest, the deal had been for the ball; everything else had been up to Thomas.

“And I’m sure you warned her against that.”

Rumplestiltskin almost smiled. “As a matter of fact, I did.”

Emma narrowed her eyes, but said nothing.

Rumplestiltskin continued, “I told Miss Boyd that she didn’t need my help to improve her life. I knew she wouldn’t be happy giving up her baby, but she was insistent on signing the contract anyway.”

“Well, she’s not now - she’s changed her mind.”

“Clearly. And therein lies the misunderstanding. Did you know, Miss Swan, that in the state of Maine, surrendering parents have up to three days after the surrender has been executed to revoke their consent?”

Emma blinked. “No.”

Rumplestiltskin let some of his annoyance show. “Apparently, neither did Miss Boyd, despite signing a contract that explained her rights in detail. All she had to do was inform me that she had changed her mind, and the agreement would be nullified.”

“She’s changed it; you can leave.”

Rumplestiltskin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I understand that, but there is still the little matter of her breaking into my shop and stealing from me.”

Emma shoved a roll of bills at him. “Here’s your money. And you know no jury in the world would convict a woman whose only reason for breaking and entering was to keep her child.”

He took the bills without counting them; he doubted Ashley had enough courage to short him, and if she had, well he’d just let her dwell on what he might do to her for that. “If it had actually been necessary, or helpful in any way, I’d be inclined to agree with you; but the fact of the matter is that Miss Boyd agreed to give up her child without even bothering to understand what she was agreeing to, and, upon changing her mind, did not educate herself on her rights, but instead committed a crime that did nothing to improve her situation, then attempted to flee, putting her child at significant risk. At no point during all this has she behaved like a responsible parent; I don’t think a jury will be terribly sympathetic.”

Emma placed her hands on her hips. “Then why are you here? Why not just report it?”

Rumplestiltskin sighed. “Because I don’t want that baby to end up in the system. You didn’t enjoy your time in the system, did you Emma?” OK, he was probably pushing too hard. This would have been easier if the girl hadn’t been so infuriating, but needs must; he forced the aggression from his tone. “I don’t want to press charges, and I’m here because I believe we can come up with an alternative arrangement.”

“What kind of arrangement? If you don’t want to press charges, and you don’t want the baby, what do you want?”

“I want Miss Boyd to keep her baby, but I also need her and the people of Storybrooke to understand that breaking into my shop is not an appropriate means of settling a contract dispute. I have agreements with many people in this town, Miss Swan; I can’t have them thinking I tolerate this sort of thing.”

“So what are you proposing?”

“I gather that you are passionate about Ashley keeping her baby; am I correct?”

“Anyone who wants to be a mother should be able to be one.”

“And fathers?”

“What?” He’d caught her off guard - interesting.

“Do you believe that fathers should be allowed to keep their children, even if others disapprove?”

She hesitated for the barest moment, then answered, “Of course.”

Rumplestiltskin smiled. “Good. Then this is what I propose. You make a deal with me. I don’t press charges against Miss Boyd, and in exchange, you owe me a favor. A favor you have already agreed is the right thing to do.”

“And what would that be?”

He’d debated with himself all day about how much to tell her. Instinct told him to hold back as much as he could, but he could tell that being cagey would maker her balk - she clearly did not like to be manipulated. And the truth would resonate with her more than any half-lie he could think of. He took the risk.

“Do you see that boy over there?” He nodded toward Bae, who had pulled out his old notebook and was sketching in it.

“Yes,” she replied warily.

“He’s my son. Bae.” Names are important. “Years ago, we were separated. I’ve devoted my entire life since then to finding him, and the night after I made your acquaintance, I did.” She started at him. “I imagine you’ve heard rumors about it.”

She nodded. “I didn’t pay much attention; figured it was your business.”

“I appreciate that. Unfortunately, some people don’t agree, including Mayor Mills.”

Emma narrowed her eyes. “What did she do?” He had her.

“Nothing. Yet.”

“Yet?”

Rumplestiltskin nodded. “Ms. Mills and I have a… complicated history. We’ve worked both with and against each-other in the past, but up until now, she has lacked any leverage over me; I only offered my services when I was inclined to.”

“But now you have a kid. And you think she’s going to go after him to get leverage over you.”

“Oh, I know she will try, eventually.”

“So what do you want me to do about it? I’m under the impression that you own this town; if Regina goes after your kid, I doubt there’s anything I can do about it that you can’t.”

“Make no mistake, Miss Swan, I can and will protect my son - at any cost.” And unlike those he usually dealt with - like Ella - he knew exactly what that meant. “However, I believe in stacking the deck. What I want from you is simply this; if Ms. Mills comes to you for help in her little power play - no matter what she promises you or what lie she tells you about me - you don’t help her.”

“Why would she come to me? I don’t know if you’ve heard, but she’s not exactly my biggest fan.”

Rumplestiltskin chuckled. “Oh, I’m well aware of that. But there’s something about you that sets you apart from almost everyone else in this town.”

Emma crossed her arms. “And what’s that?”

“You’re not afraid of me.” At Emma’s skeptical look, he explained. “Ms. Mills - Regina - rules by fear. Effective. Until she needs someone to cross the one person in town more feared than her.”

“You.”

He smiled. “Yes.”

Emma gave him a considering look. “So that’s your deal - you leave Ashley alone and I don’t help Regina if she tries to mess with your kid.”

“Precisely.”

“One more question - where’s his mother?”

Rumplestiltskin frowned; clearly, Miss Swan favored mothers over fathers. Not uncommon, of course, but grossly unfair. “Dead.” At Emma’s raised eyebrow, he elaborated, “He lost her when he was six.”

“He lost her?” She was sharp; he’d give her that.

“I lost her well before that.”

Emma gave him an intense, probing look. She must have seen what she wanted to see, because she then extended her hand. “OK. Deal.”

Rumplestiltskin reached out, but did not take her hand just yet. “Understand, Miss Swan, that I will hold you to this agreement. If you break your word, there will be consequences.”

She frowned. “I won’t.”

He smiled and shook her hand. “Good. A pleasure doing business with you, Miss Swan.”

She was still frowning as he walked away, but that was of little concern to him. She had played her part well, and he did not doubt that she would keep her word. Given time, she might even come to him for aid against Regina, now that she knew he opposed her.

He nodded to Henry as he passed the boy, who gave him a nervous look in return. A few more steps, and Bae must have heard his cane on the tile because he looked up. “Is everything… OK?” Bae sounded worried, though about what, Rumplestiltskin could not tell.

He smiled, hoping to put him at ease. “Everything is fine. Miss Swan and I have come to a mutually beneficial agreement. Miss Boyd will be keeping her baby, and hopefully she’ll learn to think a bit before making rash decisions.” But Rumplestiltskin was not betting on it.

Bae still looked nervous, but smiled anyway. “Good. Are we going back to the shop?”

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. “It’s been a long day; it’ll keep. I thought we’d rent a movie, if you were interested.”

Last night, they’d finished cleaning up the den. It was the only room that had a television in it, and Rumplestiltskin thought it would be a more relaxing alternative for the evening than fighting with Bae’s computer. Unfortunately, Mr. Gold - being fairly uninterested in television - was only wired for local channels, and his movie collection had little that would interest Bae. Mr. Gold had had a rather bizarre obsession with musicals, and beyond that he owned only a handful of classics (such as the Godfather - too violent) and the complete original series of Star Trek on VHS (Bae might like that, but he’d have to figure out how to reconnect the VCR first).

Bae’s smile relaxed a bit, and he slung his backpack over one shoulder. “Sure.”

XxXxXxX

On their way back to his house, Henry asked Emma the question that had been burning in his mind since Mr. Gold and that boy had arrived at the hospital. “Do you know who that was with Mr. Gold?”

“The kid? Yeah, that’s his son.”

“Are you sure?” He’d heard the rumors around school, but he hadn’t had a chance to verify them for himself, what with David waking up and everything.

Emma snorted. “Oh yeah; Mr. Gold was very clear about that.”

“Did he tell you his name?”

“Bae. Kind of unusual, but people name their kids all kinds of things.”

“Did he tell you anything else?” Henry was conflicted. If Mr. Gold was who he thought he was, he had found his son, which was great, but Emma had made a deal with him, which could be very, very bad.

“Yeah. I guess they got separated or something, and Mr. Gold just found him again.” Emma looked at him. “Are you going to tell me this is because of the curse?”

“Yes! Or, at least, the curse was because they got separated. I know who Mr. Gold is - he’s Rumplestiltskin. I couldn’t figure it out before because he looks different than the pictures in the Book, but that must be because he’s the Dark One but he doesn’t have his magic here. Bae looks like his picture, and his name is actually in the Book - it’s short for Baelfire. They got separated when Baelfire fell though a portal and was sent here - to the Land Without Magic. Rumplestiltskin actually created the curse so that he could come here and find him.”

Emma looked confused. “Wait, I thought this was the Queen’s curse? And if Baelfire was already here, how did he get cursed? Shouldn’t he be, you know, out there, somewhere?” She gestured vaguely towards the ocean.

Henry frowned; she had a point. “The Queen cast the curse, but Rumplestiltskin wrote it, so he could come here and find his son. He couldn’t cast it himself because it takes the heart of the thing you love most, and Rumplestiltskin only loves one thing.”

“Let me guess; his son?”

“Yeah.” Well, there was the Beauty, but he wouldn’t admit he loved her. Boy, this curse stuff was complicated. “He also made a deal for Cinderella’s baby, so Mr. Gold has got to be Rumplestiltskin. I don’t know how Baelfire got here, though; I need to think about that. But you need to be careful; you made a deal with him, and that’s bad.”

Emma shook her head. “It wasn’t bad, kid. He’s just worried about his son; he made me promise not the help Regina is she tries to mess with him.”

Henry blinked. “That’s all?”

“That’s all. He’s not a nice guy, but mostly I think he just wants to be left alone with his kid. We’re here.” She pulled up to the curb, and Henry got out.

As he ran to the gate, Emma called after him. “Henry!” He turned. “About what you said at the hospital - about me being able to leave?”

“Yeah?” Henry asked, suddenly nervous.

She smiled at him. “See you tomorrow.”

Henry grinned. Operation Cobra would resume tomorrow; in the meantime, had a lot of thinking to do.

Chapter Text

Rumplestiltskin’s suggestion of a movie proved highly successful. They had taken the clerk’s recommendation (she was Scheherazade in the Enchanted Forest, and wasn’t that amusing) and rented Iron Man; Bae had loved it. Rumplestiltskin did not need his Sight to know that superheroes would soon become standard fare at their house.

And Rumplestiltskin himself had not minded the film so much. Tony Stark was a grating character (he rather like Pepper Potts, though, for reasons he would not explore), but mostly Rumplestiltskin appreciated the theme of redemption. If Bae idolized a hero who had been the Merchant of Death, perhaps he could accept a father who had been the Dark One? It was foolish, he knew, but at this point he’d take any promise of hope he could, no matter how flimsy. Toward that end, when Bae asked on Monday evening if they celebrated Christmas, he latched on to the idea immediately.

Christmas in Storybrooke - all holidays, in fact - were odd. Every year, the dates came up on the calendar, and while acknowledged, they were barely celebrated. He imagined it was combination of the Curse’s suppression of happiness and the vagueness of time passing. For one thing, regardless of the date on the calendar, the weather in Storybrooke was always some variation of autumn - probably so Regina’s damn tree will keep bearing fruit - but no one ever noticed or questioned it. The lack of celebration was also never questioned, despite memories suggesting that holidays were meant to be observed with greater vigor. Indeed, it was not uncommon for people to remember and wax poetic about previous Christmases that had been filled with joy and presents and picture-perfect New England snowscapes; it was simply that the past few years the weather had been disappointing and they themselves had been too busy, to strapped for cash, or simply too uninterested to make the effort.

But Bae had asked, so Rumplestiltskin was going to make the effort. He had explained to Bae that while they had not called it Christmas, they had celebrated midwinter before (he had not, however, mention that because the New Year in the Enchanted Forest was observed in the spring, such celebrations took place at the end of the ninth month rather than the twelfth). It was tradition, he explained, to decorate with red berries and evergreen boughs, and would Bae also like a tree this year? He would. They would have a special dinner, and of course Bae would get presents (Bae balked at that last, actually, insisting that Rumplestiltskin had already given him too much - he’d agreed only when Rumplestiltskin had agreed to limit himself to single present and that Bae would also be giving him one).

In preparation for the weekend (Christmas was on Sunday), they spent some time on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday evenings cleaning up the dining room. This led to a minor incident when Bae stumbled upon Belle’s teacup while dusting the objects in the display cabinet.

“This cup is broken - should I throw it out?”

“No!”

Startled, Bae almost dropped it, and Rumplestiltskin’s heart shuddered in his chest. “Careful!” he shouted, far more harshly than he intended.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Bae stammered, putting the cup down with shaking hands. “I didn’t mean to!”

“I know,” Rumplestiltskin said immediately, heartsick from almost losing the cup and scaring Bae. “You didn’t do anything wrong; I’m sorry. This cup is… it’s important.”

“I’m sorry,” Bae said again, clearly frightened and confused.

“Not you fault; you didn’t know.” Rumplestiltskin carefully put a hand on Bae’s shoulder. “You did nothing wrong,” he repeated, “And it’s fine. Really, I shouldn’t keep it here. Let me find a box to put it in, and tomorrow we’ll put it in the safe at the shop, OK?”

“OK.” Bae nodded, still nervous, and Rumplestiltskin put his arm around him.

“I’m sorry for scaring you.”

Bae nodded and hugged him back. “It’s OK.”

Rumplestiltskin just held him for a moment before going to hunt down an appropriate box. He found a pretty butternut jewelry box and a blue velvet bag. He placed the cup inside the bag inside the box, and padded it further with a silk floral scarf (red and pink roses on white). He thought Belle would have approved. He had to take a minute (or several) to compose himself before going back into the dining room.

He gave Bae a nervous smile as he placed the box in the center of the table. “We’re almost done here; I’ll finish up this last bit. Why don’t you go set up your computer?”

Still looking a bit shaken, Bae nodded. “Sure.”

Just then, the entire house shuddered.

“What was that? An earthquake?”

Rumplestiltskin frowned; he had his suspicions. “Unlikely. Put the radio on the local station; they’ll report on it if it was anything severe.”

He just hoped that Maleficent hadn’t gotten loose; Emma was definitely not ready for that yet.

XxXxXxX

The ‘earthquake’ turned out to be a mine collapse. But no one was hurt, so Bae wasn’t worried. Papa had warned him to stay away from the area when he went for his run the next day, but he had no intention to go that way anyway.

Homeschoolers, it turned out, were required to do PE just like regular students. After some discussion, they had settled on Bae taking an hour each morning to go for a walk/run, shower at home, and meet Papa back at the shop in time for lunch. He took a different route each day, hoping to explore the parts of Storybrooke he had not seen before (and maybe shake some memories loose, but that hadn’t happened yet).

But not today. Today, Bae went to the Five and Dime to pick out a frame for Papa’s Christmas present. (He wasn’t lying; he would go for a run, it would just be shorter than usual. Then again, Papa didn’t seem to care much about how much he ran during those hours anyway; he just cared that Bae had his cell phone with him and charged, that no one hassled him while he was out, and that he got back to the shop on time.)

The Five and Dime was buzzing with gossip.

“The mayor’s kid, are you sure?”

“Oh yeah - she’s on a royal tear about it. And Dr. Hopper’s down there too. Buzz is they’re going to try to use dynamite to blast them out.”

“Well, they better be careful; wouldn’t want the mite to get hurt.”

“Or Hopper.”

“Wouldn’t mind if it was the mayor, though.” The two men laughed.

Concerned, Bae almost stopped to listen to their conversation, but eavesdropping was rude, and he was on a mission.

Now where are the picture frames?

XxXxXxX

Well, the day had certainly brought interesting developments. Rumplestiltskin was glad Henry and the cricket were well, and Emma playing hero was encouraging, but of greater interest to him was the fact that Hopper had, according to his sources, stood up to Regina rather spectacularly. That was good news all around. Emma now had another ally against the Evil Queen, Jiminy’s true self was manifesting, and Rumplestiltskin got a great deal of enjoyment out of imagining the expression on Regina’s face.

The cricket song was a bit unsettling, though. There should be no crickets in Maine in December, and Rumplestiltskin would have expected the weather to conform to reality more as the curse weakened, not less. Well, crickets were not unheard of in early autumn, and Storybrooke still seemed firmly rooted in that season; it might take the curse breaking entirely to set the weather to rights. And perhaps Regina had simply silenced the crickets before; he would not put that past her. Neither Bae nor anyone else appeared to question the crickets - including Emma, who really should have. He might have to put a bug in her ear about it.

Regardless, the day was now over, the crisis averted, and he was home again with his boy. His boy who had discovered YouTube.

“People really are cruel on the Internet, aren’t they, Papa?”

People are cruel everywhere. He glanced at the screen. Wait… “They certainly are, Bae. Perhaps it would be best to stay away from the comments section.”

Bae nodded. “I think you’re right.”

XxXxXxX

The next day was Christmas Eve, and they closed the shop right after lunch; they would not open again until Monday. First they went to the Five and Dime for a tree stand, lights, and ornaments. There wasn’t much selection, but Rumplestiltskin had envisioned something small and simple anyway. The stand was straightforward; there was only one type to choose from, and Rumplestiltskin was pretty sure that they were the exact same ones that had been put out every Christmas for the last 28 years and never bought. The lights and ornaments were slightly more up to date, but he had a feeling that next year’s display would look very different, with every shop in town packed with all the trappings of a modern, consumer frenzy Christmas. Well, every shop but his own, of course - assuming they even stayed in Storybrooke at all.

Bae seemed pleased enough with what they found. Two strands of lights (one white, one multi-colored), a simple star of gold wire, and three boxes of assorted glass ornaments. In line at the checkout, he did ask, “You don’t think the tree will be too plain, do you?”

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. “No. I know just the thing for it.”

“What?”

Rumplestiltskin smiled. “It’s a surprise.”

Next was the grocery store. In addition to their usual staples, Rumplestiltskin made sure they bought everything needed for a traditional Christmas dinner (they were going to end up eating turkey all week, he was sure) and gingerbread cookies, as well as two bags of whole, fresh cranberries and a jar of un-popped popcorn.

In the dairy section, they ran into Regina and Henry. “Hello, Mr. Gold,” Regina said pointedly.

“Mayor Mills,” he acknowledged. Then he smiled at Henry. “Hello, Henry; I hear you and Dr. Hopper had a bit of an adventure in the mines yesterday.”

Regina glared at him, but Henry smiled, if somewhat sheepishly. “Yeah. Emma rescued us!”

“Actually,” Regina corrected, “A crew of city workers and volunteers rescued you. Miss Swan was simply the person elected to be lowered down the shaft.”

“It’s Deputy Swan now, isn’t it?” Rumplestiltskin reminded Regina. Not the Emma was the deputy, of course, but that he was paying enough attention to know that she was.

Regina pursed her lips. “Indeed. But I don’t think Henry and Baeden have met. Henry, this is Mr. Gold’s son, Baeden. Baeden, this is my son, Henry.”

Both boys waved. “Hi.”

“Did they really have to use dynamite to get you out?” Bae asked.

“Yeah! Well, sort of…”

“The dynamite was less than successful, as I understand it,” Rumplestiltskin supplied, enjoying how Regina shifted defensively when he said it. “The air shaft by which they were eventually rescued was found after that, if I am not mistaken.”

“Right,” Henry confirmed. “Pongo found it!”

“Pongo?”

“Dr. Hopper’s dog.”

“Oh!”

“Well,” Regina cut in, “We wouldn’t want to keep you; I’m sure you have plans.”

Rumplestiltskin smiled; don’t I always? “Indeed we do. Have a good day, Henry - Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas,” Bae echoed.

Regina said nothing.

As they walked to the end of the aisle for eggs (and Henry and Regina were picking out pre-made cookie dough - Really, Regina, pre-made? Can’t you bake anything that doesn’t have apples in it? ) Bae asked, “Papa?”

“Yes?”

“Did we have a dog? Before.”

Rumplestiltskin stopped and looked at him. “Yes, Bae we did. Two, in fact, though I expect you were too young to remember the first. Riverstone died when you were three. Then we had Puppy.”

“Puppy?”

Rumplestiltskin smiled. “We let you name him. I called him Pup.”

“I… I wish I could remember.”

Rumplestiltskin’s heart clenched, and he gripped Bae’s shoulder. “You will,” he promised.

XxXxXxX

After they dropped off the food and ornaments at the house, their last stop was Storybrooke Heritage Farm for a tree and a bundle of loose evergreen boughs. There weren’t many trees to choose from, but no one else seemed to be interested in buying one, so they had their pick of what was there. Papa told Bae to choose any one that he liked, “as long as it’s not too big for the stand.”

Bae nodded. He quickly settled on a smallish but straight tree with two twisted trunks just at the top. Papa appeared to approve, and they quickly paid and tied the tree to the roof of Papa’s big, black car with a large strap Papa had brought along. The bundle of branches got stashed in the trunk. The younger tree seller - a tall boy a bit older than Bae - helped them lift and secure the tree, then asked, “Will you be all right getting it down by yourselves?”

“We’ll be fine,” Papa insisted brusquely.

“OK. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas,” Bae said cheerfully, while Papa traded glares with the other tree-seller - a tall, older man who also had a cane.

“Do you know him?” Bae asked, once they were back in the car.

“Hm?” He was focusing on pulling out of the lot, and obviously not paying much attention to Bae’s question.

“The tree-seller. You were glaring at each other.”

Papa shook his head. “I don’t. However, I’m fairly well known in Storybrooke; he probably knew me by sight, and did not care for my reputation.”

“Oh.” Bae had gotten used to the idea that many people in Storybrooke feared and avoided his father, but that did not mean he liked it. Papa, on the other hand, not only seemed to not mind, but to actually prefer it that way. Bae could not understand that. But he didn’t know what else to say, so he let the matter drop. They were headed home, anyway, and he wanted to enjoy this.

Getting the tree to stand up straight in its stand proved to be more complicated than Bae would have thought. Bae volunteered to tighten the screws that held the tree I place (he knew Papa’s leg would hurt if he had to kneel on the floor to do it himself), and Papa held the tree straight and gave directions. “Tighten the one on the left a bit… now the top one… too much! Loosen it a bit, it’s tilting… now the right one… there… there, I think that’s it.”

Bae stood up. “It’s tilting to the right. I’ll get it.”

“I guess so. Just a bit, mind.”

He knelt back down and fiddled with the screws. “Did that get it?”

“I think so.”

Bae stepped back to get broader look. “I guess that’s good enough.”

“It’s fine. Go find a jug to fill with water; I’ll get a sheet to protect the rug.”

They pushed apart the two padded chairs in front of the window in the living room, moving the side table that usually sat between them, and Papa folded the sheet and laid it on the floor for them to set the tree on. Bae liked the idea that once they were done, people walking by on the street would be able to see their work.

Next were the lights, which Papa simply wrapped around the tree in two descending spirals, so that the rows of white and colored lights alternated with each other. The tree was small enough that Bae was able to put the star on top without standing on anything, and then they hung the ornaments. Last was Papa’s surprise - cranberries.

“Red berries are traditional for decorating; we can string them into garlands for the tree and mantle. I bought some popcorn too, which can also be made into garlands if you like.”

“Popcorn?”

XxXxXxX

Of course Bae had never had popcorn. Gold’s son Baeden had - had, in fact, made popcorn garlands for the last Christmas tree they had put up as a family, which is where the idea had come from. Fortunately, once Rumplestiltskin explained to Bae what popcorn was, he got excited about it too.

They made it in a pot on the stove, and Bae laughed as the cornels bounced around inside. “This is fun!”

They strung the cranberries and popcorn (the cornels that weren’t bunt anyway - popping corn in a pot proved to be trickier than Gold’s memories suggested) along lengths of wool thread that Rumplestiltskin had spun the night he found Bae. He thought it appropriate, and caught Bae rubbing the thread between his fingers as if he remembered the feel. He wondered if he should bring the wheel up to the first floor, where he could spin in front of the fire while Bae sketched. He missed spinning with his boy with a sudden fierceness that surprised even him, and the familiarity of it might help Bae remember. It might also convince him we can be that way again, after he remembers everything.

The (slightly) burnt popcorn was lightly salted and put aside for snacking while they worked. “I like this!” Bae declared.

“It’s traditional to eat popcorn while watching movies; we can make some more the next time we do that.”

“Yeah!”

The cranberries, popcorn, and cut balsam made the entire first floor of the house smell heavenly. The finished tree was proudly displayed in front of the widows - let the neighbors speculate about that - and they arranged the loose branches on the mantle and the dining room table, accented with more garlands. Rumplestiltskin dug up some candles to go with them, which they would light the next day. All in all, he was pleased with their efforts, and Bae seemed to be too. Content with a job well done, they packed up the boxes for the lights and ornaments, then started on dinner.

After dinner, Bae got out his computer, and Rumplestiltskin joined him. They spent the evening navigating Wikipedia, with Rumplestiltskin explaining the importance of citations and peer-review. They also learned a great deal about the history of Christmas (and controversy about said history), the life cycles of evergreen trees, and lemurs. Rumplestiltskin wasn’t quite sure how they got to the lemurs, but that sort of navigation was an important difference between websites and books, and they discussed that at length too. By ten Bae was yawning, and Rumplestiltskin sent him off to bed.

“Good night, Papa.”

“Good night, son. I love you.”

“Love you too.” Already half asleep, Bae replied without seeming to think about it, and looped an arm around Rumplestiltskin’s shoulders in a quick hug - just like he used to - before heading up the stairs to bed.

This isn’t honest. It isn’t real. When he remembers what you’ve done, he’ll hate you and for good reason. Nevertheless, Rumplestiltskin’s heart sang.

XxXxXxX

On Christmas Day, Rumplestiltskin let Bae sleep in. He used the time to clear a spot in the living room for his wheel; he realized he would need Bae’s help to actually get it up the basement stairs, but he could do this much on his own. He also laid out the wood in the fireplace so it would be ready for a fire later that evening and rooted though Gold’s extensive record collection for some Christmas music. He found a lone Nat King Cole Christmas Favorites album buried under the piles of classical performances and show tunes; it would do.

It was almost ten before Bae made it downstairs. Rumplestiltskin made French toast and bacon for breakfast (closer to brunch for him, but he didn’t mind), and afterwards Bae insisted on opening the presents.

“Papa,” Bae said in exasperation, “It was supposed to be one gift, not five.”

Rumplestiltskin smirked. “Ms. Shadid assures me they are part of a single series; the next installment comes out in May. And I wrapped them together.”

Bae gave him a fond, but skeptical look. “You’re sure? I get that Iron Man 2 follows Iron Man, but the rest of these are about different people.”

“Origin stories, Ms. Shadid informs me. In the next one they team up and call themselves the Avengers.”

“Avengers? What are they avenging?”

“Well, we’ll just have to watch them and find out, won’t we?”

Bae peered at him suspiciously for a moment, and he could not help how the corners of his mouth quirked. Bae’s did the same, and soon they were both snickering. When he calmed down enough to speak, Bae thanked him then said, “Open yours!”

“Of course.” As he would have done on the old world, Bae had tied the paper on with ribbon, using no tape. Rumplestiltskin untied it carefully, already able to tell it was some kind of frame. “Oh, Bae.”

It was a drawing. The inside of the shop, rendered in careful detail and Rumplestiltskin himself standing at the counter, writing in a leger. His head was down, focused on his task, and he was smiling. Not smirking, or grinning that predator’s grin that had served Gold so well, but honestly, sincerely, softly smiling. Is this how Bae sees me?

“Do you… is it OK?” Bae asked.

Rumplestiltskin looked up. “It’s beautiful, Bae. Thank you.”

Bae smiled.

XxXxXxX

He likes it!

Bae was very pleased with himself. He had already done some sketches of the shop - there were so many interesting things in it, after all - but after they had started planning for Christmas, he had spent as much time as he could on that drawing. He’d never done anything that large or complicated before, but he’d wanted to do something really nice for his Papa. He really liked how it came out, but more importantly, Papa did.

When they got up to throw away the wrappings (paper in the recycling, ribbon in the trash), Papa left his cane leaning against the chair for a moment so he could hug him with one arm while he cradled the drawing with the other. “I love you, Bae.”

“I love you too, Papa. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas. Let me go put this in my office, and then we can make the cookies. They’ll have to be out of the oven before the turkey can go in.”

“Sounds good.”

They ran into a little hiccup with the cookies, when Papa realized they didn’t have any ‘cookie cutters’.

Bae blinked. “Why would we have to cut them? Can’t we just make them smaller to begin with?”

“They’re not for making them smaller, they’re for cutting them into shapes. It’s traditional for them to be shaped like people or other things, but we can just make them round.”

“Could we cut them with a knife?”

“I don’t know how well that would turn out… unless…” Papa’s solution was to make cardboard stencils of the shapes they wanted, and then carefully trace them with the tip of a small, sharp knife. They made gingerbread men and stars, and then some round ones to use of the last scraps of dough (Papa wouldn’t just let him eat it raw; he said the uncooked eggs might make him sick).

After the cookies came out, the turkey went in. “It’s rather big,” Bae commented.

Papa nodded with a smile. “Turkeys - especially farm-raised ones - are large birds. This was actually they smallest one they had; we’ll have lots of leftovers, that’s all. Which is also traditional,” he added with a smirk.

“OK,” Bae said with a laugh. “Now what?”

“Now we decorate the cookies.”

And that was interesting - and also fun. Papa mixed powdered sugar and water in a bowl and then scooped in into a plastic bag, snipping off the very tip of one corner with a pair of scissors. Then he showed Bae how to “draw” on the cookies with the frosting, carefully decorating a round one with a spiral design.

It took him a minute to get the hang of it, but in the end every cookie had been painted differently. “Now we let them dry. They’ll be done for after dinner,” Papa said.

“Can’t we have some now?”

“They’ll be sticky.”

They had some anyway.

XxXxXxX

After they finished sampling the cookies, Rumplestiltskin asked Bae to help him carry the wheel upstairs. The boy did so happily enough, seemingly unaware that it was at all unusual to spin wool on a wheel in twenty-first century Maine.

After that, they made some popcorn and settled in to watch one of Bae’s new movies. The next one in the sequence was actually The Incredible Hulk, but Bae wanted to see the next part of Iron Man’s story, so they watched that one instead. It was quite a bit campier than the first one, but still fun.

After it was over, they went for a walk; Bae, Rumplestiltskin had come to realize, really could not stand to be cooped up inside for an entire day unless the weather was truly atrocious. Today, it wasn’t. It was a perfectly, cool, crisp autumn day with plenty of sun - incongruous with the lit Christmas tree that greeted them from the front windows as they returned (although Rumplestiltskin was still the only one who seemed to recognize that). He did have to admit the tree was rather pretty, and the curious stares it was getting were rather amusing. But more important was Bae’s smile when he saw it.

It was getting into later afternoon, and thus time to cook the rest of the food. Bae was eager to help, so Rumplestiltskin set Bae to peeling potatoes and snapping the ends off green beans while he prepared the more complicated dishes. It was so much like the meals they had prepared together back in the Enchanted Forest that, for a moment, Rumplestiltskin could hardly believe it was real.

“What?”

Rumplestiltskin blinked. “What?”

“You’re staring at me. Am I doing it wrong?”

Rumplestiltskin shook himself. “No, no, Bae, you’re doing fine. I simply… I was simply thinking of how happy I am to have you here. I spent so long searching for you, and…” There really were no words. And he was not unaware of the irony of Rumplestiltskin, the clever dealmaker, running out of words.

Bae tossed the bean he was snapping back into the bowl and hugged him fiercely. “I’m glad you found me too.”

XxXxXxX

And Bae was glad. This was as close to what he had imagined finding his family would be like as anything real could possibly be. And it was real. There was awkwardness and nervousness and things he would never had anticipated, but that was what convinced him that this wasn’t all just the same old fantasy.

Like the cranberry sauce. Bae was certain he had never had cranberry sauce before, and he had never imagined anything that tasted quite like it. “This is really good.”

Papa smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”

In the morning, he would experiment by putting it on his toast.

Everything was so good that Bae ate more than he probably should have. When he told Papa so, he just laughed and said, “That’s traditional too.”

When they really couldn’t eat any more, they packed up the leftovers (there really were tons of them) and cleaned up the kitchen. After that, Papa lit a fire in the living room and then showed him the record player. They listened to Christmas music and Bae sketched a little and watched Papa spin.

It hadn’t snowed. They hadn’t had a large crowd of extended family, or tons of presents, or most of the other things the people on the Internet seemed to think happened every Christmas. Still, Bae thought, no one could have had a better Christmas than they had had.

XxXxXxX

“Huh. I didn’t think Mr. Gold celebrated Christmas.”

“Me either, Henry,” Regina said, examining the lighted tree in Gold’s front window with a critical eye.

“Do you think it’s because he found his son?”

Regina smirked. “Well, he didn’t have anyone to celebrate with before.”

Henry frowned. “That’s sad.” He was looking at her accusingly, which she did not appreciate. It wasn’t her fault that Rumplestiltskin was a monster that drove everyone away. Well, there was the maid… Not my fault - he could have accepted the Kiss and been out of my hair for good. I didn’t make him throw her out.

“Mr. Gold is not a nice man, Henry.”

“Yeah, but maybe he’s trying to be better. For his son.”

“Maybe.” Fat chance. “Come on.”

Still frowning, Henry followed her. She’d been hoping to have a nice Christmas with just the two of them, but Henry’s obsession with the curse was poisoning everything. The only bright spot was that Regina was now sure that Rumple was not awake. She’d allowed the (very, very) remote possibility that he might have a son (she knew he’d been involved with her mother at one point - disgusting - and there was that maid), but not in a million years would that evil imp decorate a Christmas tree with a popcorn and cranberry garland.

It was odd that the curse had given him a son, and odder still that he ‘found’ him right after Miss Swan came to town. But it was a weak spot she could exploit should she need Gold’s particular skills again, and she found the idea of Rumplestiltskin unwittingly adopting some random, cursed peasant hilarious. Perhaps the curse was helping her defend it from the disruption of Miss Swan? Regina smiled.

Chapter Text

On Friday morning, Bae found another present waiting for him downstairs. “What’s this?”

Papa smiled. “Happy birthday, Bae.”

“It’s… oh. Um, thank you.” Suddenly, he remembered that his father had told him that his birthday was coming soon, but he had completely forgotten about it since then.

“Open it!”

“OK.” As on Christmas, it was one package containing several gifts: a large, hardbound sketchbook with a forest green cover, several different types of artists’ pencils, specialized erasers, and an enormous box of colored pencils.

“Let me know how you like the colored pencils; there’s apparently some variance amongst brands, and while this one was the most consistently recommended, there are others you might like better.”

“I… thank you. Where did you find these?” Bae had never seen anything like them. While he’d been able to scrounge a colored pencil here or there, he had no idea that they came in so many colors, or in such fancy boxes.

“Online. There’s no artists’ shop in Storybrooke. Do you… do you like them?” Papa suddenly looked unsure, as if he was afraid he had done something wrong.

“I… yes. Yes, thank you.” Bae smiled and Papa smiled back.

Breakfast was more elaborate than Bae thought breakfast had any right to be. As on Christmas, they had French toast, but this kind was stuffed a cream and fruit filling and covered in powdered sugar and nuts. Papa also made both bacon and sausage, fresh squeezed orange juice, and coffee.

Bae shook his head. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“It’s your birthday, Bae; you deserve everything I could possibly give you.”

“I don’t need it; I just need you.”

Bae had meant that to be comforting - to tell his father that he didn’t have to try so hard to earn his affection - but seemed to have the opposite effect. Papa looked stricken, as if Bae had accused him of something horrible.

“You’ve got me, Bae; I just want to take care of you like you deserve. I wasn’t there for you before, and I’m so sorry-”

“Stop.” His father was getting worked up, and it was more than Bae could deal with right then. “You looked for me, you found me - that’s what’s important. I don’t… I don’t want to talk about this any more.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll… give you some space.” Papa grabbed his cane like he meant to leave.

“Don’t!” Papa froze. “Don’t leave.” Bae had a sudden, irrational thought that if his father left now he wouldn’t see him again for years. He knew it was ridiculous - Bae was the one who had been missing before - but suddenly it was all he could think about. “Don’t leave, please.”

Papa started at him with wide, frightened eyes. “Of course, Bae.” He sat back down, and when Bae reached out his hand, Papa grabbed it and hung on.

XxXxXxX

This wasn’t how Rumplestiltskin had wanted the morning to go. You frightened him. You always frighten him.

He had thought Bae was doing better; settling in to this new life they were making. He’d been a fool. Bae was a boy who had been abandoned by his father, and even if his conscious mind could not recall it, his heart knew.

Rumplestiltskin didn’t know what to do. There was nothing, really - nothing except to help Emma break the curse. If Bae could remember why he felt the way he did, he might be able to come to terms with it. Or he might run and never look back.

Unfortunately, Rumplestiltskin’s observations of Emma told him the curse would be a long time in breaking - months at least, if not the full year. He might be able to hurry things along a bit, but how could he help Bae in the meantime? His boy needed help, help Rumplestiltskin could not provide.

During their first appointment with Dr. Whale (their second - not counting the failed appointment when the blood test had come back - was scheduled for next week), he had referred Bae to Dr. Hopper. Not trusting one of Regina’s puppets with Bae’s welfare, Rumplestiltskin had not considered ever following up. After all, Bae did not actually have amnesia, he was cursed, and Rumplestiltskin himself was the resident expert on curses.

Now, however, Hopper had proved himself willing to put the welfare of his patients above Regina’s commands. And Bae, well, not all of Bae’s hurts were the result of the curse, were they?

He wouldn’t call Hopper just yet. He would watch. Track how Hopper was standing up the Regina. Try to better gauge how Bae was really doing, to not be fooled into thinking that because they laughed and shared a few meals together that things were back to the way they had been.

He wouldn’t fail his boy again.

XxXxXxX

Bae was anxious leaving for his run that day. He almost didn’t want to go, which was a first. “I… I’m leaving now, Papa. I’ll be back on time.”

Papa smiled, but Bae could tell he, too, was still bothered by what had happened at breakfast. Nevertheless, he said, “I know. Have fun, Bae.”

Bae left. He didn’t really think about where he was going, and only got about halfway down Main Street before he almost crashed into someone.

“Sorry! I’m sorry!”

“No, I’m sorry - I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Me either. I should have been, I’m sorry.” Bae knew he was babbling, but he was just so embarrassed.

“It’s all right, no harm done.” The man he had almost collided with was tall, with light brown hair. He looked friendly enough, but also kind of uneasy. “Rough morning?”

“I, uh, yeah. I guess.”

“Me too.”

“Oh.” Bae didn’t know what to say to that.

“I’m David.”

“Baeden. But everyone calls me Bae.”

“Look, um, I’ve got an hour to kill before I’m supposed to meet my wife. Is there a park around here or anything?”

“Um, yeah, there are three, actually. If you take that intersection either to the right or the left, you’ll find one. The third is that way, about a block and a half. Are you… new in town?” He’d gathered from what people were saying about Deputy Swan that it was really unusual for strangers to come to Storybrooke. And somehow, for reasons Bae did not understand, he knew that doing so did not bode well for them.

“No, uh, I was in an accident, actually, and I don’t remember a lot of stuff.”

“Oh!”

Bae had read about that in the Mirror. He’d asked his father if it was like what had happened to him, and Papa had said, “Very like.”

“Um, I can show you, if you want. Where the parks are.”

“Oh, I don’t want to bother you.”

“It’s no bother. Come on!”

After a moment, David shrugged and followed him. “Thanks. It’s really disorienting, not knowing where things are when I really should.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t remember anything either, from before I went missing.”

“What?” David stopped dead in his tracks, then snapped his fingers as if remembering. “You must be Mr. Gold’s son! Mary Margaret told me about that. I didn’t realize you had amnesia too - how are you doing?”

“Fine,” he replied quickly. “Papa’s been very patient.”

David sighed. “Yeah. Kathryn too.”

“Kathryn?”

“My wife.”

“Oh. Who’s Mary Margaret then?”

David sighed again. “A volunteer at the hospital.”

“Ah.” They reached the intersection. “You can see both parks from here, see?”

“Oh, yeah. Which one’s better?”

Bae laughed. “They’re pretty much the same, except that one has a beach and a play castle. I’m going this way.”

“You don’t like the beach?”

“No.” He didn’t know why.

“Care for some company?”

“Um, sure. Should you be running? I thought you were in a coma for, like, years?”

“I’m not now, and I’m getting pretty sick of being treated like an invalid.”

Bae nodded. “Got it.” He grinned. “Keep up if you can.”

David couldn’t, but he put in a noble effort anyway - even when Bae lapped him. Twice.

XxXxXxX

When Bae got back to the shop, there was a small box from the bakery sitting on the counter. Papa looked sheepish. “It’s your birthday cake. I ordered it a week ago. I meant for us to have it after dinner, but I can take it back if you want me to.”

“What flavor is it?”

“Mocha.”

“Oh, that’s just not playing fair.” Papa grimaced. Bae sighed - why do I keep saying the wrong thing? “I’m kidding. Of course I want a cake on my birthday. It’s just…”

“Yes?”

Bae didn’t really know; that was the trouble. He deflected. “You’re not planning some giant twelve-course dinner or anything, are you? Because that would be too much.”

“I was planning on making meat pies,” Papa explained hesitantly.

“Oh.” Meat pies. He’d meant to ask about that, but never had. “Was that a special thing, for us?”

Papa gave him a probing look. “Yes, yes it was. Do you remember that?”

“I… maybe? It’s more like…” He trailed off. This was embarrassing and too emotional, and he didn’t really want to talk about this, but at the same time he did.

“Like?” Papa just looked so concerned. Concerned and hopeful. Bae couldn’t stop now.

“It’s like… before, when I was… lost, and I imagined what home would be like, they came to mind. That’s all.”

Papa limped around the counter towards him. “That’s wonderful, Bae; that’s your memory coming through.”

“You know that for sure?”

“Yes, I do. I promise you, Bae; you will remember everything in time.”

“How can you know that? Dr. Whale said it might not ever come back.”

Papa sneered. “Dr. Whale doesn’t know everything. Believe me, Bae, you will get your memory back. I know it.”

“But how?”

Papa seemed to think for a moment, then replied with a smile, “Because I can see the future.”

Bae laughed and shook his head. “This is serious.”

“I’m being serious. This is only temporary, Bae; in time, you’ll remember, and things will make a lot more sense.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do in the meantime?” Bae asked, harsher than he meant.

Papa looked hurt, but also like he had a solution. “In the meantime… how would you feel about speaking to Dr. Hopper?”

“I don’t… do you think he could help me?”

“I think he would do his best to try.”

“I…OK.”

Papa gave him that searching look again, then nodded. “I’ll call him today.”

“OK.”

XxXxXxX

So much for watching and waiting. But Bae was hurting, and Rumplestiltskin could not allow that to continue. But it will, won’t it? Even when the curse breaks - how do you think he’ll feel about the horrors he’ll remember? You abandoned him. He’s seen you kill. His father’s a monster - you know what that feels like.

It’s not the same. I regretted it. I came back.

Does that really matter?

It would have mattered to me. Please, please let it matter to him.

He called Hopper and made an appointment for Wednesday. The cricket was eager enough to help, but was now resistant to strong-arming (he’d be useless if he was not), so they had to wait until his next available appointment.

Bae’s birthday dinner went as smoothly as Rumplestiltskin could have expected. With the improved ingredients and cooking facilities, the pies came out even better than he remembered, and the cake really was very good. They didn’t talk about anything difficult. He didn’t have Bae make a wish; wishes weren’t to be trusted. Damned fairies.

On Monday evening, close to closing, they had an unexpected customer - along with an unpleasant one.

“Mayor Mills,” Rumplestiltskin greeted carefully. “And… Mister Nolan, is it?”

Charming blinked. “Yes, have we met? Hi, Bae!”

Rumplestiltskin looked at Bae in surprise, as the boy smiled and waved. “I saw your picture in the paper. However, it seems you have already met my son.”

Bae looked away sheepishly. “I almost ran into him during my run on Friday. We went jogging in the park.”

Regina frowned. “Was that wise in your condition, Mr. Nolan?”

Charming shrugged. “I’m not even sure it qualified as ‘jogging’. It was more like… limping along while Bae ran circles around me.”

Rumplestiltskin chuckled. “I know the feeling well.” Normally he would never reference his injury like that, especially with Regina standing there, but the idea of his boy outpacing the great dragon slayer was just too, well, charming. And it didn’t hurt that Bae had already endeared himself to the hero. That would be useful later.

Regina quirked her eyebrow. “Be that as it may, it was probably not the best idea. I’d hate to have the tell Kathryn that you’re in the hospital again because you overdid it trying to keep up with a teenager.”

Charming actually rolled his eyes, which Rumplestiltskin found heartening. Even memoryless, Charming was clearly sick of Regina and her meddling.

Speaking of which, “What can I do for you today? Or is this a social call?” Rumplestiltskin asked.

“We ran into each other on the street - not literally,” Regain said with a pointed look at Bae that Rumplestiltskin most certainly did not appreciate, “And when I mentioned that I was on my way here, and Mr. Nolan mentioned that he’d met your son, I suggested he join me as I knew Bae would be here.” Now she was looking at Rumplestiltskin, clearly making the point that she was keeping tabs on Bae. His temper flared, and he calmed himself with the image of painting the walls with her blood.

“Well, it’s good to meet you Mr. Nolan. And what can I do for you, Madam Mayor?”

“I was interested in these over here,” she answered, walking over to the wands. Naturally, he followed her, he but kept and eye on Charming as he asked Bae to show him around.

“I’m sure there’s a story behind them,” she said with a smirk. Rumplestiltskin almost rolled his eyes. Subtle, Regina, very subtle.

“I’m certain there is, but I’m afraid I couldn’t share it with you.” Literally true, as two of those wands had been traded to him on the condition of total secrecy.

“Really? That’s a shame.”

She made a show of carefully examining each wand, and Rumplestiltskin glanced back at Charming, who was now toying with the windmill at the front of the shop. Back in his cell, Rumplestiltskin had Seen something about Charming and windmills; when he’d noticed this one in the back of the shop a few days ago, he’d realized it was the one from his vision one and displayed it prominently. Bae thought it was ugly.

“Are you OK?” Bae asked, and Rumplestiltskin did not miss the glance Regina sent their way. Aha.

“I think… this belonged to me.”

“You think so? Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Charming replied distantly, “I… I remember.”

Regina smiled. Well, perhaps she’s learned some subtlety after all.

He’d been expecting her to do this, of course, and he had to admit that he admired the skill with which she had made this particular move. Then again, had he not known that this was a necessary step towards breaking the curse, he’d have been annoyed by the apparent setback.

“Are you all right, Mr. Nolan?” Regina asked, as if she had not heard everything.

“I remember,” he repeated, louder than before.

She hurried over. “You do? That’s wonderful! Would you like me to call your wife?”

He gave her a startled, guilty look. Rumplestiltskin was aware that Charming had been getting close to leaving Kathryn for Mary Margaret; certainly that had been Regina’s impetus for implanting his cursed memories now, after waiting for nearly a month. “I… yes. Actually, no, I’ll do it. But thank you.”

Regina’s smiles really were nasty little things. “Do you need help getting home?”

“No, I’m fine. Thank you. It was nice to see you again, Bae, and to meet you, Mr. Gold; I, uh, need to go meet my wife now.”

“Of course,” Rumplestiltskin replied, “Good luck.”

“Good night, Mr. Nolan,” Bae said, looking rather shell-shocked. Rumplestiltskin frowned; he should not have let Regina enact her little schemes right in front of Bae. Stupid.

“Goodnight,” Charming - or David Nolan, as he now was - echoed distractedly as he hurried out the door. He pulled out his cell phone, and Rumplestiltskin did not expect that he was calling his wife. His cursed wife, anyway.

“Well!” Regina crowed cheerfully, “What wonderful news! I should be getting home to Henry; I’m sure he’ll want to know about Mr. Nolan’s recovery. Goodnight, Mr. Gold, Baeden.”

“Goodnight, Mayor Mills” Bae replied, polite to the last.

Rumplestiltskin said nothing.

Once she was gone, Bae turned to him. “Well, that’s good, isn’t it?”

Rumplestiltskin smiled encouragingly. “I’m certain Mr. Nolan will be pleased to remember his wife.” Several months from now, when Emma breaks the curse. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. Um, when do you think I…?” he trailed off.

“Soon, Bae.” Rumplestiltskin wrapped his left arm around Bae’s shoulders and held him close. “You’ll get your memory back soon.” Hurry up, Miss Swan; my boy needs you.

XxXxXxX

Now that Regina was active once again - in his own shop no less - Rumplestiltskin didn’t think burying the dagger could wait any longer. He’d debated whether to bring Bae into it, torn between keeping the dagger’s location secret and making the gesture of dropping the dammed thing down a hole instead of his precious boy. Now that he did not understand the dagger’s significance, Bae might let the location slip; or Regina, if she suspected he knew something, might target him specifically to get it. He decided he couldn’t take the chance.

Early Wednesday morning, while Bae was still sleeping, Rumplestiltskin chose a spot in the woods at random, and buried the dagger there. On his way back, he ran into the Sheriff - and what an enlightening conversation that was.

Rumplestiltskin had taken the opportunity to give the man a bit of a push towards the truth. Then, later that day, he’d made some inquiries about the Sheriff’s movements the previous day and night. Apparently, the Huntsman had kissed Emma, which explained the sudden emergence of his memories, piecemeal though they were. It was useful information to have, although Rumplestiltskin did not expect Regina would respond well to her little pet beginning to slip his cursed leash.

He was right.

Well, Rumplestiltskin wasn’t one to waste an opportunity. With the Sherriff position now vacant, it was time to put Emma into a position of power.

Chapter Text

The package arrived a week after the Sheriff’s death.

“What is that?” Bae asked, his nose wrinkling.

“Lanolin and wool, from a farm in Vermont. You remember where Vermont is?”

Bae nodded. “Two states to the west, next to New Hampshire. The Ben & Jerry’s factory is there.”

“Correct.” Rumplestiltskin smiled. Bae was making excellent progress in his lessons despite of how behind he was; he was particularly good with maps, so Rumplestiltskin incorporated them into their lessons as often as possible.

“What are you going to use it for?” Bae asked, sniffing at the lanolin again. He looked wary.

Rumplestiltskin couldn’t answer that, of course, so he sidestepped. “The wool is for spinning; it’s a finer texture than what I’ve been working with. And lanolin is used for waterproofing, among other things.”

“Waterproofing the wool?”

Rumplestiltskin smirked. “Well, that’s what the sheep use it for, but humans use it on a variety of surfaces.”

“I see.” But he still seemed troubled.

Rumplestiltskin frowned. Could Bae’s memories be seeping through? Of everything Rumplestiltskin had wanted Bae to remember, he’d been hoping the history of the dagger (and everything that followed) would stay buried until the curse broke. If it surfaced, Bae would be hurt and frightened without understanding what was happening; he could end up like the Huntsman, babbling about magic.

It gave Rumplestiltskin pause. He’d debated with himself about how to steer the election. He could not rig it outright, or Regina, if she discovered it, could annul the results and have Emma removed. Furthermore, Emma would not have earned the title of hero if he did that, which would endanger her final victory over Regina. No, he could not hand her the role, but he needed to steer her into it, and publicly.

He had Seen, back in the Enchanted Forest, that he would allow her to defeat him in order to inspire the people. He’d since filled in the details and hatched a plan: offer to help her with the election, set her up as a false hero, and let her reveal the deception in a public forum, thus becoming a true hero. The townsfolk would see her as their salvation from not only Regina but him as well, and they would rally behind her. It was a perfect plan; he knew it would work.

But then there was Bae. As with that mess with the maid and her baby, Rumplestiltskin’s only misgiving was that he did not wish for his son to see him as the town monster. But unlike that absurd affair, he saw no way around it now. No alternative he could think of was a guarantee, and few had even a plausible chance of success. There was only one beast in town for Emma to figuratively slay, and that was him.

It has to be this way. I’ll explain everything, and Bae will understand. And even if he didn’t, the most important thing was to keep his boy safe; this was the only way to ensure that. He had to do this. Nothing is as important as Bae’s safety.

XxXxXxX

Bae was worried. He didn’t quite know why; he had just had a bad feeling since he had smelled that stuff that came in the mail today. And Papa was acting weird. In the week since the Sheriff had died, he’d started acting… Bae wasn’t sure how to describe it. Almost like he was working on something he didn’t want Bae to know about. Bae didn’t like it.

He hadn’t liked rent day either. On Sunday, Papa had gone out and collected rent from people. Bae had asked to come, and Papa had said that the rents he collected in person were the most “difficult” tenants, and he didn’t want Bae involved in it in case someone tried to “kick up a fuss”. Instead, Bae had spent the morning walking around town and the afternoon at the Storybrooke Coffee Company, drinking what Papa liked to call ‘elaborate’ coffee and reading the next few stories in his anthology: The Tell-Tale Heart, The Lottery, and The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas. Bae didn’t suppose it had helped his mood that the stories were so depressing.

Papa had only let him join him for his last few stops, all older people who “just don’t trust checks”. The last was Mrs. Lucas, who ran the inn and the diner. She’d glared at Bae’s father, and he’d responded with a smile that Bae didn’t trust. Mrs. Lucas’ granddaughter, Ruby, had been friendly enough to Bae, but kept shooting Papa suspicious looks. And once they had left, Bae had heard Mrs. Lucas yelling at Ruby about her outfit; apparently, Mrs. Lucas had noticed Bae staring at it - which Bae hadn’t even realized he was doing.

Bae had blushed when he heard that, and Papa had noticed. “Don’t trouble yourself Bae; Miss Lucas’ attire is designed to attract attention. No one could fault you for looking.”

“She thinks you’re going to raise the rent on them for ‘corrupting’ me.”

Papa had snorted. “I don’t care for how Miss Lucas dresses, but a teenage boy looking at pretty girls is hardly ‘corrupt’; it’s inevitable.”

“So you won’t raise their rent?”

Papa had given him an odd look then. “I raise their rent at the beginning of every fiscal year to keep pace with the cost of inflation - as I do with all my tenants.”

“I… good.” Bae hadn’t known what he had been afraid of just then, but once he sat down and talked it through with himself like Archie was teaching him to do, he realized that he had been - and was still - afraid that Papa would lash out at people for hurting Bae. He didn’t know why he felt that way. Papa had never done such a thing as far as Bae knew (although he had said something to that effect about the mayor, but then promised not to). But sometimes Papa had a frightening way about him, and since the Sheriff’s death, he’d been that way more and more. Bae hadn’t realized how much until that package came in the mail.

As Bae was shutting down his computer in preparation for bed, Papa asked him if he was all right. “If something is bothering you, Bae, I want you to tell me.”

“I’m fine, Papa,” he insisted. He wasn’t, and they both knew it, but how could he explain what he was afraid of? ‘Papa, I’m afraid you’ll hurt people’ - no, he couldn’t tell him that; he couldn’t even tell Archie that. It’s crazy. “Good night.”

“Good night. I love you, Bae.”

“I love you too, Papa.” And he did, he truly did. But I’m scared too. Bae felt wretched, and it took a long time for him to fall asleep that night.

XxXxXxX

Rumplestiltskin knew something was wrong. Bae was upset and wouldn’t tell him why. Does he even know? It was tearing him up to watch his boy suffer, but there was nothing he could do. Bae was already seeing the cricket and had said he thought it was helping, but clearly it wasn’t, not enough.

The more he thought about it, the more he knew that Bae wouldn’t approve of his plans for the election - but if he didn’t go through with them, Emma might lose, which would drag the curse out and could put Bae in danger. Even if he hates me, I have to keep him safe. Villains don’t get happy endings, after all. But Bae was not a villain, and he deserved one. Even if it’s without me.

His resolve didn’t last the night.

It was well past midnight when he finally headed up to bed. As he reached the top of the stairs, he heard Bae’s voice. Concerned, he pressed and ear to his door. “No… no… Papa, don’t… please stop…”

Feeling sick, Rumplestiltskin yanked the door open and stumbled to the bed. As he had thought, Bae was dreaming - begging in his sleep, with tears running down his face. “Bae!” Rumplestiltskin shook him by the shoulder. “Waken up, Bae!”

Bae woke with a gasping sob. “Papa.” But he wasn’t asking for comfort; when he saw who was standing over him, he panicked and scuttled back against the headboard. Rumplestiltskin’s heart clenched.

“Bae,” he said in what he hoped was a calming voice, “You were dreaming; it’s all right.”

“I… I…” Bae was breathing hard, clearly terrified by his dream and sudden awakening.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know,” Bae replied automatically. Of course that had never been the issue - not even at his worst had Rumplestiltskin turned on Bae. Everyone else, yes, but not once had Bae even been in danger from his temper. But there are other ways to hurt him, aren’t there?

“Do you remember what you were dreaming?”

Bae blinked. “No. Nothing.” That must have been the curse at work. “I just…”

“Yes?”

“I…”

Rumplestiltskin took a chance and sat on the edge of the bed. He reached out a hand. Bae took it. “Bae, what is it? Please tell me.”

“I… I’m afraid,” he said in a small voice that broke Rumplestiltskin’s heart.

“What are you afraid of, Son?”

“I… I can’t. It’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not. If you’re afraid, tell me why; I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

He took a shuddering breath. “I’m afraid you’ll hurt people,” he blurted out. “For hurting me - even if they didn’t mean to. I told you, it’s stupid.”

Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes. “It’s not stupid, Bae.”

“Yes it is. You wouldn’t - you said so.”

It took Rumplestiltskin a moment to realize what Bae was referring to - the conversation they had had about Regina right after he took Bae grocery shopping for the first time. At the time, Rumplestiltskin had not actually said he wouldn’t hurt anyone; he had said he wouldn’t hurt Henry or hurt Regina more than was required to stop her. What Bae had not yet realized was that nothing short of death was likely to stop Regina’s quest for revenge.

“It’s not stupid,” Rumplestiltskin repeated, trying to buy time. How could he possibly explain this? “You are everything to me, Bae. Seeing you hurt… it makes me very angry. I told you that I am a dangerous man to cross, and in the past I have not… responded well to you being hurt.”

Bae didn’t say anything to that. He didn’t ask what Rumplestiltskin had done; he just looked away. It had to be the curse. Bae - his Bae - had wanted to know every detail of what his Papa had done. He wouldn’t even accept his gifts without knowing where they came from. Rumplestiltskin had found it troublesome at the time, but now, seeing Bae so lost and frightened, he would give anything to have his brave, righteously angry Bae back.

“Bae, I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what? You haven’t done anything.”

Oh, Bae, if you only knew. “I have, though. I won’t,” he added hastily, seeing Bae shake his head anxiously, “Tell you any of the details if you don’t want me to, but I need you to understand that you are not imagining things. I think you remember, deep down, a time when I… was a very poor father to you. And there is nothing, nothing I regret more than that. I have been trying to be a better father to you now. I know that can’t make up for what I’ve done, and I won’t ask for forgiveness for what you can’t remember, but I promise you, Bae, I promise, that I will be better. I’m not a hero-”

“You’re my hero.”

That stopped him cold. “What?”

Bae was looking at the bedspread, shoulders hunch in misery. “You’re my hero. You found me. You saved me.”

“I always will,” Rumplestiltskin said fervently.

“Then don’t say you’re not a hero. You are. You’re mine. You say you’ll be better, and I believe you. I just… I get scared sometimes. I can’t help it.”

“Oh, Bae.” He had no words. His boy thought him a hero. He never, never thought he’d have that again. Over the years, Rumplestiltskin had made himself forget how much he wanted that feeling back, knowing it could never be; but now that Bae had said it, he burned for it.

It couldn’t last, of course; it wasn’t even true. Bae had only been lost in the first place because Rumplestiltskin had failed him, and when the curse broke - if not sooner - Bae would realize that. And yet, even knowing that, Rumplestiltskin couldn’t bring himself to force that day closer. He couldn’t go out there and play the part of the town monster, knowing it would cost him this. He’d told himself - and Miss Swan - that there was nothing he would not do to ensure Bae’s safety. He’d been wrong.

Rumplestiltskin, wretched, greedy coward that he was, couldn’t sacrifice this for Emma’s position as Sherriff. He just couldn’t. Once again, but this time weighed down by guilt, he adjusted his plans.

XxXxXxX

The lanolin was put away. Instead, Rumplestiltskin began to pull strings. He gathered information and saw that it was distributed too. Soon the town was buzzing with rumors. The townsfolk were reminded of the incident with the apple tree and Miss Swan’s heroic rescue of Henry and Hopper from the collapsed mine. They learned of her roadside rescue of Miss Boyd and her intervention with him for the babe (that tale, of course, quickly became even more exaggerated than the rest - let it never be said that the citizens of Storybrooke ever let the truth get in the way of a good story, especially when Mr. Gold was cast as the villain).

And information found its way to Emma too. There was very little in terms of actual crime in Storybrooke (beyond what was committed or engineered by Regina, of course), but what few troublemakers Regina allowed to carry on saw their names discreetly passed along to the acting Sheriff. By addressing those, she continued to build her reputation, and citizens began calling on her directly for help. By the time Rumplestiltskin summoned Emma to the shop, it was widely known in Storybrooke that if your husband was beating you or one of the barflies at the Rabbit Hole tried to follow you home (and it was no surprise, although a sickening reminder, that that the most troublesome of that lot was that vile sheriff who had tried to purchase Belle) Deputy Swan could be relied upon to quickly intercede of your behalf.

She’d even made contact with Judge Herman and strong-armed him into issuing a restraining order against the former guard who ill-used the maid Regina had ‘given’ him as a wife (as with the Huntsman, Rumplestiltskin gathered that this arrangement actually predated the curse - he hoped Regina found Emma’s interference in the matter especially irritating). The girl was now safely ensconced with friends (also past servants of Regina’s, including Snow White’s former nurse) and Rumplestiltskin had taken special care in ensuring that there were eyes and ears on her husband. If the brute went after his wife, Emma would be alerted well in time to stop him, although by all accounts she had successfully put the fear of God into the man.

Rumplestiltskin looked up when he heard the bell over the door.

“Life I love you, all is groovy.*”

Emma gave him an odd look. He smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry, Bae left that on when he went out for his run. I’ll get it.”

On Saturday morning, Bae had found a record player and a random pile of LPs in a corner of the shop. Recognizing what they were from Christmas, he’d asked to play some of them, and Rumplestiltskin had, of course, agreed. Bae had smiled more that morning than he had in days, and so Rumplestiltskin had started encouraging him to play them (and the ones at home) whenever he liked. For some reason, he kept coming back to this particular record.

Emma raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Your teenager listens to Simon & Garfunkel? And isn’t he at school? It’s the middle of the day.”

“It’s his favorite album - I’ve heard so often in the last few days, I apparently don’t even hear it anymore. And Bae is homeschooled; which, contrary to the name, does not actually have to take place in the home. Right now, he’s out for a run, as part of the PE requirement.”

“Homeschool kids still have to do PE?”

“Indeed they do - in the state of Maine, at least.”

“Huh. Anyway, you called the Sherriff’s Department?”

He limped around the counter to face her. “I just wanted to express my condolences, really; the sheriff was a good man.” He looked down. As he had expected, “You’re still wearing the deputy’s badge. He’s been gone two weeks now, and I believe after two weeks of acting as Sheriff, the job becomes yours. You’ll have to wear the real badge.”

She looked discomfited. “Yeah, I guess. I’m just not in a hurry. So, uh, thank you for the kind words. Was there anything else?”

“Actually, yes. I have his things; he rented an apartment that I own. Another reason for my call, really, I wanted to offer you a keepsake,” he said, retrieving the box of odds and ends.

On Sunday afternoon, Rumplestiltskin, Bae, and Mr. Dove (a man who had once been Rumplestiltskin's messenger bird and was now employed by Mr. Gold for assistance with difficult rent collections and any other jobs that needed to be done quickly and with discretion) had packed up the Sheriff’s things. The furnishings stayed with the apartment, but the food and toiletries had needed to be disposed of, and most of his clothing and household goods (what few there had been - even cursed, the man had been a minimalist) had been given to the thrift shop at the dump. However, Rumplestiltskin had set aside a few special items in preparation for this meeting.

“I don’t need anything.”

“As you wish. I’ll give them to Mayor Mills. Seems like she was the closest thing he had to family.” It was a low blow - and an obvious one - but when had that ever bothered him?

And it worked. “I’m not sure about that.”

“No love lost there, I see.”

“That can’t surprise you, not after the favor you asked me.”

“Indeed it doesn’t. One reason I called you about this first, actually; I’d rather offer these to you than her. Really, I fear all of this stuff his headed directly for the trash bin; you really should take something. Look, his jacket?”

She shook her head. “No.” Apparently, Miss Swan was not the sentimentalist that Rumplestiltskin himself was. Interesting.

“Oh, look!” He pulled out the walkie-talkies. He knew as soon as he had seen them that he should offer them to her as a means to communicate with Henry. Regina was overdue to interfere with them seeing each other, and he knew for certain by now that both the breaking of the curse and Henry’s own safety relied on the boy being able to reach Emma.

“Your boy might like these, don’t you think? You could play together!”

She still shook her head. “No, I don’t-”

“No, please, they grow up so fast.”

She dithered for a moment more, then took them. “Thanks.”

“You enjoy these with your boy. Your time together is precious, you know. That’s the thing about children - before you know it… you lose them.” This was getting rather more personal than Rumplestiltskin would like, but Emma really did need a fire lit under her.

She gave him a searching look. “How long was he missing?”

“Too long.” Anyone else would have thought he was playing games with that answer. She knew he wasn’t.

“It’s, OK, you know - you found him.” Was she trying to comfort him? That was… unexpected. For a moment, he thought of Belle, and had to immediately remind himself who he was talking to and why.

“And Henry found you. The question is: how long will we be able to keep them?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not giving up on Henry.”

He smiled. “Good.”

XxXxXxX

Regina smiled to herself as she walked to the sheriff’s office. She’d given Miss Swan two weeks to get comfortable, and now she was looking forward to pulling the rug out from under her. Regina decided who enforced the law in this town, and it was not Emma Swan.

And she probably thought that she’d been doing so well, too. This past week, she’d taken in both Nottingham and Catton, and even harassed Herman for a restraining order against Catton. Did she honestly think Regina was going to let her get away with that? Not that Regina particularly cared that Catton be allowed to carry on - he’d been stupid enough to get caught, after all - but it had not been Miss Swan’s place to interfere.

And then there were the rumors. She’d heard that the word ‘hero’ had been tossed around more than once, especially regarding that business with Miss Boyd’s baby. It was absurd. Miss Swan was no hero; she was a criminal who had gotten knocked up and then abandoned her child. And now, now that Regina had taken care of Henry though all the most difficult parts of his life, she wanted to play at being his mother, as someone important. Her little charade was over, and as soon as Regina fired her and instated Sydney as Sherriff, she was going to address those rumors, and expose Miss Swan for the fraud she was.

Oh, I am going to enjoy this.

XxXxXxX

It had been a hell of a day.

And, apparently, it wasn’t over yet.

Mangled toaster in hand, Emma answered the knock on at door. She had certainly not been expecting Mr. Gold and his son to be standing on the other side.

“Good evening, Miss Swan. Sorry for the intrusion - there’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

She looked back at Mary Margaret, who looked conflicted. If it had only been Mr. Gold, Emma knew she would have hi-tailed it out of there in a second, but his son was another matter. Mr. Gold seemed to pick up on it immediately. “Where are my manners? This is my son, Bae. Bae, this is Miss Swan and Miss Blanchard.”

“Uh, hi,” Emma greeted dully, while Mary Margaret, who probably had an innate inability to be anything other than relentlessly cheerful around kids, was more enthusiastic.

“Nice to meet you!” she said, waving cheerfully.

Shyly, Bae waved back. “Hi.”

“Uh, come on in,” Emma said, wondering what the hell Gold was doing here with his kid in tow.

“Thank you,” Mr. Gold replied, Bae trailing in after him. “Bae, why don’t you show Miss Blanchard your drawings while I speak to Miss Swann?”

“Um…”

“Yes!” Clearly happy to have an excuse to get away from Gold without blowing off his son, Mary Margaret latched onto the idea like a hyperactive barnacle. “I would love to see your drawings! I can show you some of the ones my students have done!”

He still looked a bit hesitant, and Gold gave him an encouraging smile and waved him forward. “Go on, Bae.”

And that, right there, was definitely up there with the wolf for the weirdest thing Emma had seen since she came to town.

“Um, OK.”

“Great!” Bae then found himself swept up the stairs by Hurricane Mary Margaret, while Gold watched, still with that fond, dopey smile on his face.

There was no doubt about it - the town monster was a total marshmallow when it came to his kid. The second they disappeared into the office space upstairs, it was like flicking a switch - Gold was still smiling, but there was a sharp, predatory edge to it that Emma had noticed at their first meeting and every encounter since. She wasn’t sure he was even aware of the change.

“I, ah, heard about what happened,” he said, “Such an injustice.”

“Yeah, well, what’s done is done.” She stalked over to the kitchen counter and abandoned the broken toaster there.

“Spoken like a true fighter.” Sarcasm, just what I need.

“I don’t know what chance I have. She’s mayor, and I’m, well… me.”

“Miss Swan, two people with a common goal can accomplish many things. Two people with a common enemy can accomplish even more. How would you like a benefactor?”

“Benefactor?”

“Would you mind?” He set the large binder he was carrying onto the table and sat. “You know, it really is quite shocking how few people study the town charter.”

“The town charter?” Great, she was turning into a parrot. A grumpy, jaded parrot.

Gold didn’t seem to notice - or perhaps he just didn’t care. “It’s quite comprehensive - and the mayor’s authority?” He opened the binder. “Well, maybe she’s not quite as powerful as she seems.”

Now that got her interested. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Regina appears to be under the impression she can hire a new Sheriff at will; she can’t. According to the town charter, she can only nominate a candidate. After a week, that candidate officially becomes Sheriff, but only if no one else puts their name forward. If someone does, there needs to be a vote. Simple majority wins.” He smiled. “Don’t you just love democracy?”

It was like a lifeline. Or a visit from the shadiest fairy godfather in the history of ever. Emma would have to be a complete idiot to trust it. “Let me read that.”

He actually perked up at that, and pushed the binder forward. “By all means. Always a good idea to read the fine print.”

“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

She could tell that he knew just what she was referring to. He didn’t look the least bit remorseful, but his answer was honest and without mockery. “Indeed I would.”

Well, if he was going to be forthcoming, “You ever forget to?”

“Once,” he replied, staring at her intensely, “To very ill effect.”

Well.

Moving on.

She read it - it said exactly what he had said it did. “You think I have a shot?”

He smiled again. God, he was a creepy bastard. “Oh, yes. I never waste my time on losers, Miss Swan.” Now, that I can believe.

“And you helping me, that’s because of that favor I owe you, right?”

He nodded. “Oh, yes. Allow me to be frank,” he said, folding his hands on the table. She nodded. “Sheriff Humbert was a good man, but he was beholden to Regina.”

“Do you know what she had on him?”

“I do, although it is not my place to tell you; especially not now.”

She frowned. “Could you have helped him?”

That seemed to catch him off guard. “He didn’t ask me to.”

“But could you have?”

“Only at the expense of others, and not for a while now,” he answered carefully. Her superpower told her he was telling the truth, but not all of it. Hm. He continued. “Glass is an entirely different matter. He follows her willingly, and to be blunt, he is not a good man. He’s not even competent; if he becomes Sheriff, all of Storybrooke will suffer for it.”

“Except Regina.”

He snorted. “Even Regina. She actually has a rather long history of making decisions that come back to bite her later - this would be another.” That’s interesting.

“What kind of decisions?”

“Well, trying to run you out of town, for one.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Between you and me, your attack on her apple tree was inspired, and I am not the only one in town who thinks so.”

Emma smirked. “Thanks, but it wasn’t exactly something a Sheriff would do.”

“Ah, but rescuing Ashley Boyd certainly was, and your little foray into the mines and your recent interventions with Mr. Nottingham and Mr. Catton as well. Believe me when I say that Mr. Glass would not even be capable of doing those things, even if Regina wished him to, which she does not.”

“She just wants a lackey.”

Gold nodded. “Exactly.”

“So how exactly do you plan to help me?”

“By helping you navigate the legal and political issues involved, of course. I do not expect that this will be the last time Regina will claim to have powers the law does not afford her, and you can bet that election or no, she will be wielding her considerable political influence against you as well. She’s fairly good at that this game, but fortunately for you, I’m better.”

His smile was smug, but Emma didn’t doubt for a minute that he could do what he was promising. And it was exactly the sort of help she needed - neither she nor Mary Margaret had any knowledge or pull with that sort of thing, nor did they know anyone who was in Regina’s league, let alone Gold’s. If she wanted to have any chance to stand against Regina, she needed this.

After a moment’s hesitation, she extended her hand. “Deal.”

Still smiling, he took it. “Once again, it will be a pleasure doing business with you, Miss Swan. If I may offer my first piece of advice, tap your roommate for help with your campaign. She doesn’t travel in Regina’s social circles, but she is well liked among the larger community.”

Emma nodded. “Sounds good. Anything else?”

“For now, downplay your association with me. I am… not well liked among the larger community,” he said ruefully, but without the slightest hint of regret.

“That’s an understatement. For the stories I’ve heard about you, I’d expect to find a freezer full of bodies in your basement.”

“Oh, no,” he replied with a devilish smile, “Too obvious. I’m far too clever to leave evidence lying around like that.”

Despite herself, Emma laughed. “Maybe you’re not as bad as people say.”

He froze. For a moment, his face was utterly blank, as if he wasn’t even seeing her. Then he recovered, shaking his head with a smile. “Make no mistake, Miss Swan, I am much worse than that. But as I said, we share a common goal, and a common enemy - that counts for much. Now, what do you suppose I’m going to have to offer Miss Blanchard for custody of my son back?”

He was deflecting. She’d clearly touched on something big, but the man was entitled to his secrets, and honestly, by this point Emma just wanted a bowl of rocky road and to fall into bed.

“I don’t know, look sad? She’s kind of a sucker for that.”

He actually snickered for a moment, but then simply called up the stairs. “Bae, Son, it’s time to go!”

“OK!”

A minute later, Bae hurried down the stairs, a green sketchbook in his arms, and Mary Margaret on his heels. Whatever they had talked about had apparently put her at ease, as she managed to make eye contact with Gold and smile. Still, she addressed Bae - which, Emma noticed, did not seem to bother Gold at all (that dopey smile was back - honestly the guy was mush). “It was nice to meet you, Bae; thank you for showing me your art.”

The kid was blushing. She must have been laying it on pretty thick. “It was nice to meet you, too, Miss Blanchard.”

“Bae, I told you to call me Mary Margaret!”

“Very well, Mary Margaret.” He turned to Emma. “And it was nice to meet you, Miss Swan.”

“Um, you too.” The kid’s manners put hers to shame. Gold must be big on that sort of thing.

The man in question nodded to them both. “Have a good evening, Miss Swan, Miss Blanchard.”

“Yeah, you too,” Emma replied automatically. “Wait!”

“Yes?”

She looked at Bae, “I’ve got to ask - Simon & Garfunkel, is that really your favorite band?”

He looked confused. “Yes? Is that a problem?”

“Of course not!” Mary Margaret said, “I love Bridge Over Troubled Water!”

“Of course you do,” Emma muttered. Gold looked amused.

“My favorite is the Boxer,” Bae said. Gold twitched. Huh.

“How about yours?” Emma asked Gold. If they were going to be having this conversation, she might as well go all the way with it.

“Oh, I’m rather partial to the Sound of Silence myself.”

“‘Hello darkness, my old friend?’”

That damn smirk was back. “Indeed. Although if I had to pick a favorite song of the era, I’d have to go with Dylan’s The Times They are A Changin’.”

Well that was about as subtle as a brick. Still, Emma laughed.

It had been a hell of a day.

Chapter Text

“…There’s a battle outside, and it’s ragin’. It’ll soon shake your windows and rattle your walls…*”

The bell above the door rang. “Regina,” Rumplestiltskin said. She glared. “Shall I move some things, make a bit of space for your rage?” Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

“You found that loophole in the town charter.”

“…Come mothers and fathers…”

“Legal documents, contracts, if you like, always been a fascination of mine.”

“Yes, you love to trifle with technicalities.”

“…are beyond your command - your old road is rapidly agin’…”

“I like small weapons, you see, the needle, the pen, the fine point of a deal. Subtlety. Not your style, I know.”

“…The line it is drawn, and the curse it is cast - the slow one now will later be fast…”

“You’re a bastard. And will you turn that damned music off?!”

He smiled. Bae, remembering his comment the night before, had left this album on the player when he'd left for his run; Rumplestiltskin couldn’t have planned it better. “As you wish. Shame what happened to Graham.”

Mentioning the Huntsman was a calculated risk - on one hand, it danced a bit too close to what Rumplestiltskin knew that Gold didn’t; but on the other, Regina’s reaction to that comment could give him a hint as to whether she already suspected that Rumplestiltskin had awoken.

“Don’t you talk about him; you know nothing.” It held the ring of truth. She still thought she was dealing with Gold - excellent.

“What is there to know? He died.”

“Are you really going up against me?” She sounded genuinely surprised; that was terribly amusing, even if she still thought he was Gold.

“Not directly. We are, after all, both invested in the common good. We’re just picking different sides.”

“Well I think you picked a really slow horse, this time. It’s not like you to back a loser.”

“She hasn’t lost yet.”

“She will.” She had doubt - good.

“Never underestimate someone who is acting for their child.”

“He’s not her child, not legally.”

“Ooh, now who’s trifling with technicalities?”

She started him down, and suddenly, her scowl morphed into a twisted smirk. “Or were you even talking about her? Are you under the impression that having Miss Swan as Sheriff is in Baeden’s best interest? Because, let me tell you: it’s not.”

He had been waiting for this. He'd known it was coming, although he had hoped to have Miss Swan installed as Sheriff before Regina even thought to target Bae. He should have known better. Still, he would not show her his fear. “And why is that?”

“Oh, I think you know.”

“No, I really don’t. I’m afraid you’re going to have to spell it out for me.”

“You don’t want to start a war with me, Gold. In wars, people get hurt.”

He could tear her throat out. He could slam her head into the display case, slash her open with the resulting shards of glass, and leave her entrails scattered across Main Street. But that would not help Bae. But he’d be safe, one side of him said. And perpetually cursed; he deserves better, and you know it, the other replied. “Are you threatening my son, Mayor Mills?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just saying that installing a felon as Sheriff might not be in his best interest; he deserves better, don’t you think?”

Internally, Rumplestiltskin scoffed at her description of Sydney Glass as ‘better’. Outwardly, he embraced Gold’s predator smile. “I thought that’s what you meant. And that’s good, very good. Because, you see, Mayor Mills, I have no intention of starting a war with you. But understand this: if anything, anything at all happens to my son, the consequences to those responsible will be most dire. As I’m sure would be the case if something were to happen to Henry.” Her smile faltered. Did she really think that he would not respond in kind? “I think we can both agree that children should not be involved in the affairs of adults. Am I correct in that?”

“Yes,” she sneered.

“Good. We are just two citizens participating in the democratic process; there’s no reason our boys should come into it at all, is there?”

“No.”

“Good.” He extended his hand. “May the best candidate win.” Had she magic, she’d have burned him to ash.

Then again, had he magic, he’d have kept her screaming for days.

As the door slammed behind her, he pulled out his phone and called Bae. “Hello, Bae.”

“Hi, Papa. Is everything OK?”

“Where are you, Son?”

“Just at the house. Is something wrong?”

“Don’t worry, I just had a bit of a chat with Mayor Mills. She’s in a bit of a snit; she didn’t appreciate your choice of music.”

“Oh!” he laughed.

“Tell you what; let’s have lunch at home today. Stay there, and I’ll come meet you.”

“OK. Are you sure everything is all right?”

“As much as it ever is. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

“OK.”

“I love you, Bae.”

“Love you too, Papa.”

Bae hung up, and Rumplestiltskin dialed another number as he locked up. “Mr. Dove? I have a job for you.”

XxXxXxX

The next day was… harrowing. Even with Dove assigned to discretely follow Bae during his run, letting him leave the shop that morning was very nearly beyond Rumplestiltskin’s ability. He actually had to stop himself as he was halfway to the door, ready to call Bae back.

I can’t just lock him away until the curse breaks. He has his phone. Dove is watching him. Regina won’t make a move as long as she thinks I’ll go after Henry if she targets Bae. I have work to do that he can’t overhear. Focus.

After far much too effort, he was finally able to.

Are you certain you can’t just kill her? You should kill her.

Not yet.

He had seen the article about Emma’s criminal history in today’s Mirror, of course. He wasn’t too worried about it. Once again, Regina had thought only of offense and neglected her defense. What, exactly, did she think worried the people of Storybrooke more - having their watches stolen, or having their legally protected information plastered all over the front page of the newspaper? A few phone calls, and Rumplestiltskin ensured that the people who had not already asked themselves that, would.

No, of greater concern were the rumors Regina had put out that his arrangements with Miss Swann were more… carnal in nature than they actually were. No one knew as well as Rumplestiltskin did what could happen to young women who were accused of such a thing, nor would anyone trust a Sherriff who was Mr. Gold’s whore. His rage flared, and this time he let it. If Regina was going to put that ball into play, well, he was going to serve it right back.

XxXxXxX

The next morning, Emma was waiting for him in front of the shop. Honestly, he’d expected to see her yesterday. What took you so long, dearie?

“Gold!”

“Miss Swan. What can I do for you this morning?”

“Did you threaten Henry?”

Ah. “No. May I assume that Ms. Mills told you that I did?” Her frown was answer enough. “Bae.” He paused. Bae shouldn’t hear this. But with Regina’s threat looming, he could hardly send him out for coffee unsupervised. “Can you wait outside a moment while I speak to Miss Swan?”

Bae looked at him questioningly, but agreed. “OK.”

“Follow me, Miss Swan.” He led her to the back; he didn’t want Bae to hear anything through the door. He turned to face her, and she crossed her arms aggressively. “I assume you would like to know what Regina and I actually discussed?”

“Yup. And before you start, I should tell you that I have a superpower - I can always tell when people are lying.”

Interesting. “And I gather that you don’t think Regina was.”

“No.”

“I wasn’t either.” She shifted awkwardly; apparently her ‘superpower’ had told her that much. “And there’s a rather simple explanation. I did not threaten Henry, but Regina thinks that I did. The larger context was this: she threatened Bae and I informed her in no uncertain terms that should anything happen to Bae I would punish those responsible, just as I was sure she would for Henry. A less paranoid or guilty person would have taken that as an appeal to her better nature. But Regina, well... she don’t have one.”

“Leave Henry out of this.”

“I intend to. I even told Regina there was no reason to involve children - any children - in this matter.”

“And if she does do something to your kid, what will you do to Henry?”

“Nothing. I said ‘those responsible’- Regina’s sins are not Henry’s to bear.”

She was still frowning. Honestly, Rumplestiltskin did not blame her - she was only protecting her son, after all - but it was troublesome. But at least her next question was helpful. “How did she threaten Bae?”

“‘In wars, people get hurt.’ That is a direct quote. I know her; she did not have to say more than that.”

Emma narrowed her eyes. “And if she does go after him, what will you do?”

“Whatever I have to. But you have my word that I will leave Henry out of it as much as I can.”

“‘As much as you can’? That’s not good enough.”

“Then take it up with Regina. If she involves him, there is little I can do about it.”

“You think she will?”

“I would put nothing past her. As I said, Miss Swan, I know her, and she seems to not care a whit how he feels about the sordid details of his birth being broadcast to everyone he knows.”

Emma actually growled at that. And that’s why she went to Regina first. “So what do we do? How do we stop her? After that article, there’s no way I’ll be Sheriff.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. You remember those poor decisions I mentioned earlier, Miss Swan? The article was one of them. You broke the law ten years ago. And in order to expose that information, Sidney Glass broke it two days ago. A Sheriff who has no respect for privacy laws? Tsk, tsk. No, all you need to do, Miss Swan, is to continue what you have begun - show the people you can and will do the job. Glass has just proven quite definitively that he won’t.”

“I can’t; I’m suspended, pending the results of the election.”

“And why should that stop you? Short of the arrests you have made, what on your list of heroic interventions actually required a badge?”

She snorted. “Heroic interventions?”

Rumplestiltskin rolled a hand impatiently. “Miss Boyd, the mines, Misters Nottingham and Catton?”

“Those weren’t ‘heroic interventions’ - I was just doing the right thing.”

Rumplestiltskin sighed internally; the girl was certainly dense. No matter, she was far from the first hero Rumplestiltskin had ever had to motivate. “And that, Miss Swan, is the difference between a hero and a glory seeker. Believe me, I’ve met plenty of both.”

She raised an eyebrow. “When? Exactly how many people have you been a ‘benefactor’ for?”

Far, far more than you know. “I’m the man people come to for hard to find objects, Miss Swan, and services too - I’ve dealt with many people over the years, and for many different reasons. As the saying goes, ‘I’ve seen all kinds’.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I see. And what are you going to do?”

“Continue to gather information - try to get a read on which way public opinion is swaying.”

“And how are you doing that? You’re not exactly Mr. Social.”

He chuckled. “No, but as I said, I know people - people I’ve made deals with. They keep me apprised of the events in town.”

“Hm.” She didn’t ask how many of those deals had been illicit in nature, although he could tell she was thinking it. He was surprised, and a little disappointed. Bae would have asked (before). Then again, few heroes ever had, Snow and Charming included. Clearly Bae was simply exceptional.

“Any other advice?”

“Not at the moment. I’ll contact you if I hear anything.”

She frowned. “Like you did about the article?”

Ah - she is a demanding one, isn’t she? “I only became aware of that yesterday morning, just like everyone else.”

“Well, I didn’t hear about it until yesterday afternoon, after Henry had read it. A heads up would have been nice.”

“Ah, I see. I should not have assumed that Miss Blanchard subscribes - my apologies.” Anything else, your Highness? Shall I dress you too? Wipe your arse?

She sighed. “All right. About Bae…”

“I am dealing with that. If you intervention becomes necessary, rest assured you will hear from me.”

“Me and Seal Team Six, I’m sure. I mean… how’s he doing?”

Rumplestiltskin paused - he hadn’t expected that. “Fine. Thank you for asking.” And he was, relatively speaking. He seemed less withdrawn then he had been a week ago, and had not, to Rumplestiltskin’s knowledge, had any more nightmares. Rumplestiltskin clung to that has he debated with himself about whether his decision to abandon his original plan for the election had been the right one. It was too late go back to it now, and that thought terrified him, especially after Regina’s threats.

“It’s just, Wednesday night, I didn’t realize - Mary Margaret says he has amnesia? She’s worried about him.”

“Ah. You can thank Miss Blanchard for her concern, but Bae is receiving the best care possible.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. It’s just, she worries - especially about kids.”

Just her, dearie? Rumplestiltskin smiled. Bae had endeared himself to the Savior and Snow White in single evening, and that was excellent. The more allies he had, the better; after all, that is why he had brought Bae with him that night. “I understand; Miss Blanchard’s reputation on that score is well known.”

“Yeah. OK, um, if anything happens…”

“You can expect to hear from me. Good day, Miss Swan.”

Well, the news wasn’t all bad, then. He mustered up a smile for Bae as he pulled him into the shop and flipped the sign to ‘Open’.

“Is everything, OK, Papa?” Bae asked as Emma turned to leave. “Goodbye, Miss Swan,” Bae said automatically.

“It’s Emma, kid.”

“All right. Goodbye, Emma.”

“See you later.”

Once Emma was gone, Rumplestiltskin answered, “Ms. Mills’ attempts to break my alliance with Miss Swann were unsuccessful. She’s not half as clever as she thinks she is.”

“OK, that’s... Good. I’ll… I’ll get started on my math.”

“Call me if you need help.”

“I will.”

Bae was quiet for the rest of the morning. He seemed out of sorts, but there was little Rumplestiltskin could do if he didn’t want to talk about it. As he watched (with considerable difficulty) Bae leave for his run, Rumplestiltskin pondered how to bring it up that evening when they had more time. For now, he had calls to make - he needed to know if his latest contribution to the rumor mill had taken root.

XxXxXxX

That evil little imp. “People think I’m sleeping with Gold? That’s disgusting!” Regina shouted.

“Well, yeah. I mean, who could think that you…”

“Do something about it, Sydney!”

“Like what? I can hardly write an article denying it; that would just fan the flames.”

“Well, we can’t just-” Sydney’s phone rang.

“I’m sorry; it’s one of my contacts. Should I-”

“Answer it!”

“Glass speaking… Are you sure?... Excellent, thank you!” He was grinning. “Here’s a story; Miss Swan assaulted one of Gold’s goons in front of Granny’s, and Gold is headed that way - looks like they’re about to have some kind of showdown.”

A smile crept across Regina’s face. “Good news at last. Get down there. I’ll be right behind you.”

XxXxXxX

This was Bae’s fault. He had thought that someone was following him yesterday, but he hadn’t been sure, and he’d been too scared to bring it up with his father. Papa had been tense and nervous since the night he’d had that nightmare, but then something else had gone wrong in the last few days. Bae had been afraid to upset him more over something that could just be in his head, but then today he’d been sure he was being followed. But instead of calling Papa, as he should have done, he’d evaded his pursuer and then, spotting Emma with Henry on the other side of the park, he’d gone to her for help.

It had snowballed from there. Emma had sent Bae and Henry to Granny’s (a crowded, public place, especially during the Saturday lunch rush), and she’d tracked down the man following him. Unfortunately, the man had actually been Mr. Dove, whom Papa had apparently asked to watch Bae (without telling anyone). Emma hadn’t known that, and Mr. Dove hadn’t known Emma, so he’d tried to push past her, and she’d bloodied his nose trying to stop him. Then Papa had shown up, and he and Emma were now yelling at each other in the middle of Main Street.

“… display of gross incompetence!”

“Well maybe if you actually told me anything instead of being a cryptic bastard!”

“I told you everything you needed to know! This is none-”

Bae couldn’t take it anymore. “Stop! Stop it, both of you!”

“Bae, go back inside-”

“No!”

“Listen to your dad, kid, this is enough of a mess-”

“And how exactly is you yelling at each other helping anything?”

“Are you OK?” Henry asked Mr. Dove. The tall man was holding Papa’s handkerchief to his nose and watching everything impassively. In response to Henry’s question, he nodded.

And, of course, that is when Sidney Glass arrived, followed by Mayor Mills.

“What is going on here?” Mayor Mills demanded, pushing her way through the crowd.

“Nothing that requires your intervention,” Papa snarled.

“Are you certain? I received a report there was an assault, and as the Sherriff position is currently vacant, it is my responsibility to see justice done.”

“There was no assault.”

“No?” She looked over at Mr. Dove. “How did you get injured, Mr…”

“Nosebleed,” was all he said.

“And how did that happen, I wonder? Miss Swan?”

“A misunderstanding,” Papa said, at the same time as Miss Swan replied.

“I hit him.”

Papa rolled his eyes in frustration. Mayor Mills smiled. “I see. Would you like to press charges, Mr…?”

Mr. Dove actually laughed at that. “No.”

“Are you certain? It is your right.” She stared pointedly at Papa. “I won’t allow any citizen of Storybrooke to be intimidated into keeping silent after being brutalized.” Papa bristled, but Mr. Dove just laughed again.

“Yes.”

Mayor Mills pursed her lips. “How loyal you are. Well, Miss Swan, do you have anything else to say?”

Arms crossed, she shifted awkwardly, but still met the other woman’s stare. “No.”

“Mr. Gold?” Her tone was mocking.

“Not to you.”

“Baeden? Henry?”

“No.”

“Nope!”

“Well then, I think we can all agree it’s time for everyone to go back to their homes or places of business. Causing a public disturbance is hardly acceptable behavior, especially for someone running for Sheriff. Come along, Henry.”

Papa’s glare could have melted steel, although who he was madder at, Bae couldn’t tell. “Let’s go, Papa.”

Shoulders hunched, Emma watched Henry as he walked away with Mayor Mills, and he looked back at her over his shoulder. When he turned away, she did too. Papa looked at Bae, his expression softening, “Are you all right, Bae?”

And suddenly, Bae was angry. Why would Papa ask Mr. Dove to follow him without telling him? Did he think Bae was stupid, that he wouldn’t notice? Deliberately ignoring the question, Bae turned to Mr. Dove. “Are you all right, Mr. Dove?”

He smiled again and nodded. Mr. Glass then scuttled up to him. “Do you have any comments for the Mirror? How do you feel about being attacked by someone running for Sheriff? Do you feel unsafe, thinking about what Miss Swan will do if she wins the election?”

Mr. Dove drew himself up to his full height, looming over Mr. Glass. Very deliberately, he folded Papa’s handkerchief and leaned forward until Mr. Glass gulped and took a step back. “You talk too much.”

“Um...”

Mr. Dove handed Papa his handkerchief back. “Anything else, Mr. Gold?”

“Not at the moment,” Papa answered. “You’ll hear from me.”

Mr. Dove nodded and walked away. Papa turned back to Bae, guilt in his face. “Bae…”

“Come on,” Bae said, wrapping his arms around himself and heading back to the shop.

Papa said nothing and followed.

XxXxXxX

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t protect his boy. He’d built kingdoms and torn the worlds asunder, but when it came to the one thing that he cared about, he was always doomed to fail.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bae asked as they approached the shop.

Rumplestiltskin sighed. “I was trying to protect you. I did not want you to be afraid or feel confined. You didn’t respond well to that… before.”

Bae laughed humorlessly. “Oh, yes, because this was so much better!” And there was the rub - nothing he did was right for Bae. If he did what he had to to protect him from harm, he drove him away by his methods. He’d thought he’d found a compromise, but that had failed too. Now Bae was angry with him, and Emma’s position against Regina was endangered. In trying to have both, he’d jeopardized both. It seemed that there was simply no way for him to be the father Bae deserved.

The Seer had even told him that. It didn’t matter what he’d chosen that day, he had been doomed to leave Bae fatherless. He’d thought it could be overcome, but clearly it was a curse that carried across the realms. No. No! I am Rumplestiltskin. I am the longest-lived Dark One in all of history, and have held my own dagger for all of that time. I am the most powerful wizard in the realms. I may have lost him as she predicted, but I have him back now. It’s not hopeless. It’s not!

They reached the shop, and he waved Bae inside. He’d left in such a hurry that it was still unlocked. Bae moved behind the counter, arms folded, stewing in his anger. Rumplestiltskin watched him, toying with the handle of his cane. They didn’t speak for a minute or two, but the silence soon became unbearable. “I’m sorry, Bae, I should have told you. On Thursday, Ms. Mills came to see me…” He trailed off, too much of a coward to continue.

But Bae wouldn’t tolerate that. “And? What did she do?”

Rumplestiltskin swallowed. “She threatened to harm you. I was just trying to protect you.”

“I thought I was imagining things,” he said quietly.

“Oh, Bae, I’m so sorry. I don’t… I can’t…”

“Can’t what? Tell me the truth?”

Yes. “I can’t apologize enough for what I’ve put you through. I’m trying to keep you safe and at the same time give you your freedom, and I just… can’t.”

Bae looked at him, eyes heavy with sadness and hurt. “I need you to tell me things. And I… I need to tell you things too.”

“What do you mean? Is something wrong? Tell me, please. I can’t protect you if you don’t talk to me.”

“I know; that’s what I just said. If I’d told you I thought someone was following me… but you seemed so upset already, and I didn’t…” He buried his hands in his hair; he only did that when he was really upset.

“Bae…”

“Did this screw up Emma being Sheriff? And don’t lie.”

“What? No! Bae, you did nothing wrong-”

“No! Stop saying that! You always say that, even when it’s not true!”

“But you didn’t-”

“I did! You told me to tell you when something was the matter, and Archie did too, and I didn’t, and look what happened!”

“I should have told you; this was my fault.”

“It was my fault too!” Rumplestiltskin didn’t understand. Why is Bae doing this? “Please, Papa, just be honest with me - how bad is it?”

Rumplestiltskin sighed; they could discuss blame later. “I don’t know. Glass will certainly write an article for tomorrow’s paper, and then there will be the rumors; I don’t know how people will react.”

“What happens if she loses?”

“Then Ms. Mills will have a Sheriff who is a bit more loyal and significantly less competent than her last.”

“And Emma?”

“Will persevere.”

“You’re certain?”

“Oh, yes. If there is one thing I am certain of in this matter, Bae, it is that Miss Swan will persevere.” I just need to keep you safe until then.

Chapter Text

The Evil Queen was winning. She’d killed the Huntsman, and now she was trying to turn people against Emma. Emma had been trying to do the right thing - the heroic thing - but Sidney Glass was telling everyone that she was a villain, and that she beat up Mr. Dove for no reason.

The Queen was even winning against Rumplestiltskin, which, according to the Book, had never happened before. Only once had anyone ever beat Rumplestiltskin, when all the heroes had teamed up and worked together to imprison him. But even that hadn’t lasted; he’d made a deal with the Queen for power, and now they, the two worst villains in the Book, were the only ones who had any.

And the worst part was that Henry knew why Rumplestiltskin was suddenly losing. He had found his son and was trying to be good, and that meant he couldn’t compete with the Evil Queen any more.

When Henry had figured out who Mr. Gold was, he’d been scared. He’d been hoping that Rumplestiltskin was not in Storybrooke - that he was still back in his cell - because if his deal with the Queen had worked, it meant that Rumplestiltskin was the one character who always, always won. And if he always won, that meant that the worst villains could win, which meant that the Queen could win, and the happy endings might never come back.

Then Emma had told Henry about the deal she had made with Rumplestiltskin, and Henry didn’t know what to think. It was bad to make a deal with Rumplestiltskin - the Book was very clear on that - but his price had been something Emma was supposed to do anyway, as the Savior. Henry couldn’t see how that was bad. Emma had suggested that Rumplestiltskin just wanted to be left alone with his son, but Henry hadn’t been sure. Could a villain just stop being a villain?

Then, when he saw Bae and Mr. Gold on Christmas Eve, Henry had realized that Emma was right. In the Book, the Blue Fairy had said that Baelfire was the thing that kept Rumplestiltskin human, and that if he chose Baelfire over magic he could be good again. He’d made the wrong choice the first time, but he’d spent years and years trying to get to the Land Without Magic so he could find his son and make a different choice. And he had. He had given up magic to get his son back, and now that he had him back he was trying to be good, just like Emma and the Blue Fairy had said.

And Henry had been so hopeful then. If Rumplestiltskin, the worst villain in the Book, could give up being a villain so that he could have his son back, that meant that anyone could - even the Evil Queen. Henry didn’t want his Mom to be evil. She’d been good once; the Book even said so. When he was little, Henry had really thought she loved him. He wanted that back.

But it wasn’t going to happen; he knew that now. Rumplestiltskin had tried to be good and help Emma, and now the Evil Queen was beating him for the very first time. Even with all the power he had in Storybrooke, he could not beat the Evil Queen anymore because he had a weakness that she did not; he loved his son.

Evil was going to win, and good was going to lose, and there was nothing Henry could do about it.

XxXxXxX

Rumplestiltskin didn’t know what to think. The information his sources were passing along was… contradictory. Apparently, many people were swayed by Glass’ most recent article - one which implied that Miss Swan was at best a dangerous loose cannon, and at worst a violent criminal who assaulted the intellectually disabled for fun (not, Rumplestiltskin knew, that Mr. Dove actually was disabled in any way, but he spoke to seldom and interacted with others so rarely that it had long been rumored that he was - along, of course, with rumors that Gold himself exploited that vulnerability).

On the other hand, there were many others who were quite impressed by the fact that Miss Swan had taken on the man who was widely known as Mr. Gold’s hired muscle, and then confronted Gold himself in the middle of Main Street. (What, exactly, she had said to him seemed to vary with every retelling of it, but he suspected most renditions boiled down to what the storytellers themselves had always wanted to say to him but had been too cowardly to voice.)

Everyone, it seemed, had an opinion about Miss Swan, but Rumplestiltskin simply could not determine which one would carry the day. He was doing as much damage control as he could, but by now the rumor mill was spinning out of control - there appeared little he could do to direct it.

At least Bae was still talking to him.

They had come to an agreement. Dove would continue to guard Bae while he was out, but openly. Bae had admitted that the sensation of being watched made him deeply uncomfortable, and if over time this new arrangement became unbearable to him, he had agreed to tell Rumplestiltskin so instead of doing something rash (like evading his guardian again). In exchange, Rumplestiltskin would keep Bae informed of the situation with the Mayor. If she made any further threats or took any action that involved Bae, Rumplestiltskin would let him know - particularly if Rumplestiltskin took any steps to counter her.

At a quarter to eleven, Mr. Dove arrived at the pawnshop. Bae looked up. “Good morning, Mr. Dove.”

“Good morning.”

“You’re early,” Rumplestiltskin commented. That was unusual.

“I know. I must ask, Mr. Gold.” Dove took a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket and slid it across the counter. “May I submit this?”

Confused, Rumplestiltskin unfolded and read it. A slow grin spread across his face. It was rare for people to truly surprise him, but it seemed that Mr. Dove had depths he had not anticipated. “You may, indeed, Mr. Dove. Let me make some edits while you’re out, and you can submit it later today; I will see to it that it gets published in tomorrow’s edition.”

Bae looked at him curiously. Rumplestiltskin smiled. “Mr. Dove would like to submit a letter to the Editors of the Mirror, correcting the errors in Mr. Glass’ most recent article. I believe it will help… clarify the issue.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea! You think it will help?”

“I do,” he answered truthfully. “Well done, Mr. Dove.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gold.”

XxXxXxX

To the Editor,

On Sunday January 22nd, you published an article by Sydney Glass entitled “Candidate for Sherriff assaults local resident” that contained a number of inaccuracies. As the local resident in question, I would like to set the record straight.

To begin, Miss Swan did not assault me. I touched her first, attempting to push past her. That turned out to be an extremely unwise decision on my part. I had assumed that because of my size, Miss Swan would be unable to physically restrain me. I will not make that mistake again.

Secondly, while it is true that I was not there to harm anyone, Miss Swan did not know that. She thought I was following someone with the intent to hurt them, and when she asked me why I was there, I did not answer her, instead attempting to push past her. Again, that is a mistake I will not repeat.

Thirdly, while I am indeed a quiet person, I am not the “simple man” described in the article. I do not appreciate being characterized as such.

I have been told before that I speak too little. As I told you on Saturday, Mr. Glass, it is my opinion that you speak too much. Last week, for example, you wrote another article about Miss Swan, detailing the contents of her sealed police record. You again referenced that information in your Sunday article. Interestingly, you did not include any information about my burglary and assault convictions, even though that record is publicly available. I wonder why that is?

Finally, while Miss Swan did indeed raise her voice, during and after the incident, she did not “spew invectives” at me. She did, however, call my employer, Mr. Gold, a “cryptic bastard”.

I can perhaps see where you got confused, Mr. Glass; after all, Mr. Gold and I bear such a striking physical resemblance. However, I still encourage you to verify your facts before publishing them. I am certain that I am not the only resident of Storybrooke who objects to having their personal business misrepresented in the local newspaper.

Regards,

H. Dove

As expected, Regina attempted to diffuse the impact of Dove’s letter by having Glass write a rebuttal. Fortunately, as Rumplestiltskin anticipated, Glass’ reputation as Regina’s mouthpiece did not lend his article as much credence as she hoped among those not already loyal to her. Really, she would have been better served by having regular residents write their own letters, but then Regina had never given much thought to the common people.

But Rumplestiltskin did. On the day of the election, two more letters were published, one from the young woman who had reported Nottingham, and the other from Ashley Boyd. At his suggestion, Mary Margaret had asked for volunteers from among the people Emma had helped, and Rumplestiltskin had seen to it the letters were published at just the right time (it wouldn’t do to give Regina time to catch on and submit her own letters, after all). He had not expected Miss Boyd to volunteer on her own (had considered… persuading her to do so, in fact), but apparently Emma calling him a bastard in the middle of Main Street had sold her on the idea. Well, he supposed there were worse ways for his vision to come true.

The night of the election, he closed the shop early so that he and Bae would have time to eat before heading to City Hall. He could tell Bae was worried. Rumplestiltskin was worried too. Against his every instinct, he’d taken a risk; it was time to see if it would pay off.

XxXxXxX

Henry was worried. But he also had hope. Mr. Dove’s letter had gotten people talking, and just today, Ashley and Miss Cobbler had written their own letters, telling everyone what a hero Emma was.

His Mom acted like she knew Sydney was going to win, but Henry could see she wasn’t sure. Henry wanted to be sure. He knew that the hero was supposed to win, but he had doubts. He knew Emma had doubts too. She’d never been in a debate before, and while Henry and Mary Margaret (and, Henry knew, Mr. Gold) had helped her prepare for it, he knew she wasn’t sure she could do it. (It didn’t help that Emma had been expecting Mr. Gold to help with legal type things, and he’d told her that the worst thing she could do was sound like him so she shouldn’t rehearse her answers, only be honest. She’s asked if that meant she should tell everyone what jerk he was, and he’d laughed and said, “feel free!”)

When they got to the theater, Henry and his Mom didn’t go in right away; instead, his Mom hung around outside the entrance and started talking to people. Henry tried to sneak away to find Emma, but his Mom caught him and told him to stay close. So he looked around to see who else was coming. He saw Mr. Dove standing alone on the edge of the crowd. Henry was definitely going to have to find a way to thank him for writing that letter, even if, as some of his classmates had said, Mr. Gold told him to write it.

Henry waved to Mr. Dove and large man nodded. Then Henry spotted Ashley and her boyfriend Sean with baby Alexandra and waved to them. Ashley waved back. His Mom must have noticed because she tapped his shoulder and said, “Stay away from people like that, Henry.”

“People like what?”

“People who make deals with Mr. Gold. He is a very dangerous man.”

“Didn’t you make a deal with him?”

“What? I don’t have time for your stories right now, Henry.”

“I mean for me - he made it so you could adopt me, right?”

Mom narrowed her eyes. “Who told you that?”

“Emma figured it out.” And Mr. Gold had confirmed it, although his Mom didn’t need to know that. Or what Emma had called Mr. Gold after he had.

“Miss Swan needs to mind her own business.” So does Mr. Glass, Henry almost said out loud, but knew it would just make him Mom angrier. Instead he just sighed - he was not pouting - and looked away. His Mom gave him a Look, but then went back to greeting people. He looked up when she said, “Mr. Gold.” Henry could tell that she was angry.

“Mayor Mills,” Mr. Gold replied. “Lovely evening for a debate, isn’t it?” He was smiling in a way that Henry thought was supposed to irritate his Mom. It was working; she didn’t even answer his question.

Instead, she turned to Bae, who was walking a little behind his dad and watching Mom like he didn’t trust her. That was wise, in Henry’s opinion. “Good evening, Baeden.” She smiled when she said that, and Henry saw Mr. Gold tense up.

“Good evening, Ms. Mills,” Bae replied carefully. Then he waved, “Hi, Henry!”

“Hi, Bae!”

“Well, tonight you’ll get to see if your little… investment in Miss Swan is going to pay off, Mr. Gold,” Henry’s Mom said. She said it rather loudly, and Henry wondered if the reason they had not gone inside was because she had been waiting to say something like this to Mr. Gold.

Mr. Gold smirked. “Miss Swann is no more my investment than you are, Mayor Mills.”

Oh, she was mad. “Are you denying that you’re the mastermind behind her campaign?”

Mr. Gold laughed. “Mastermind? Such faith you have in your constituents, Madam Mayor, that you believe an uptick in civic involvement means a mastermind must be at work.”

“So you are denying it, then?”

He laughed again. “Oh, indeed. If I had it in my head to mount a political campaign, do you really think I’d stop at a few letters to the editor? Come now, Regina, I thought you knew me.”

She sneered. “Far more than I’d like to.”

He grinned. “Indeed. Now, if you’ll excuse us…”

Mom’s face was turning red, but she didn’t say anything as Mr. Gold waved Bae inside, then followed him, grinning at Henry’s Mom all the while.

“Bye, Henry!” Bae said as he walked inside.

“Bye!”

Henry’s Mom frowned. “Henry, I want you to stay away from Mr. Gold and his son.”

“Why?”

“I told you, he’s dangerous.”

“Bae seems nice.”

“Perhaps,” she said like she didn’t really think so, “But Mr. Gold is not. Just stay away from them both. I mean it.”

Henry sighed, but he knew there was no point in arguing about it. “Fine.”

“You will? I’m very serious about this, Henry.”

“Fine, I will.”

His Mom nodded once. “OK. Let’s go sit down; I’ve reserved seats for us right up front.”

Henry smiled. At least Emma would be able to see him during the debate, even if he couldn’t see her beforehand. “OK.”

XxXxXxX

Papa picked a seat on the aisle, one row back from the stage. A minute or two later, Bae saw Mayor Mills and Henry take the two reserved seats in the front row on the opposite side. He looked at his father, wondering if he’d chosen these seats so he could watch her. He was watching her, smirking slightly while she made a point of ignoring him.

Bae opened his notebook (his sketchbook was nice, but he thought it was too heavy to bring to this, plus he might want to take actual notes) and started doodling. He also looked around, head slightly bowed so people wouldn’t notice.

He’d seen Mr. Dove as they had walked in, but they’d only exchanged nods. Mr. Dove was perfectly nice, Bae supposed, but he did not talk much at all. He supposed that was expected for a bodyguard, but still Bae would have liked to have someone else to talk to.

Bae noticed Henry smiling at the stage, and he spotted Emma through a gap in the curtains, waving back. A few minutes after that, Mary Margaret came out a side door and took a seat in the crowd. Then it was time for the debate to start.

Archie was the moderator, although he didn’t sound too comfortable being up on stage. Mr. Glass sounded slightly more confident, but also rehearsed and insincere. In fact, Bae was pretty sure that as he gave his opening speech, Mayor Mills was mouthing the words along with him. Papa was staring at him intently, and Bae could tell that Mr. Glass was making an effort not to look in their direction.

Then it was Emma’s turn. She looked a little hesitant, but she spoke with a loud, clear voice, and unlike Mr. Glass, her speech rang of truth.

“You guys all know I have a, ah, troubled past. I’ve also made a more recent mistake or two that that you’ve probably heard about too. I’m an outsider here, and I know that. I’ve never been the kind of person to put down roots before. It was for those reasons that when Sheriff Graham asked me to be deputy, I wasn’t sure I was right for the job. But then something changed. Someone asked me for help, and I helped them. And I realized that’s what this job is; it’s helping people. So that’s what I’m going to do. I’ll do it even if I am not elected, but I know I can do more if I am. Um, thank you.”

Bae thought the applause for Emma was louder than for Mr. Glass. Bae certainly clapped harder for her. He and Papa shared a smile.

Next were the questions. Emma’s answers were just like her opening speech had been: honest and to the point, if a little rough. Mr. Glass’ answers started out as rehearsed as his speech, but as time went on, they started to break down. Bae thought Papa might have something to do with that, as every time Mr. Glass spoke, Papa gave him the same unsettling stare, and Mr. Glass seemed to fumble a bit more every time he looked in their direction.

Bae might have been annoyed with Papa for intentionally trying to upset Mr. Glass into making mistakes, but he noticed that Papa also stared at Miss Swan while she was speaking, and she just glared right back. They’d talked a bit about Emma’s campaign in the past few days (Papa had been trying to convince him that he hadn’t actually hurt Emma’s chances of being elected - Bae still wasn’t sure) and he’d said that the best thing Emma had going for her was that she was not afraid of him. Mr. Glass clearly was, and Papa was making sure that people knew that. Maybe it wasn’t exactly fair, but a good Sherriff shouldn’t be afraid of Mr. Gold, even when most people in town were. Ms. Mills appeared to catch on to what Papa was doing, because she started glaring at them. Papa ignored her.

The debate lasted for well over an hour. Both Emma and Mr. Glass were looking pretty tired by the end, and many people in the crowd looked about as bored as Bae felt. He had to give Henry and Mary Margaret credit, though; they were both still paying attention, and smiling for Emma every time she spoke.

Mr. Glass and Emma gave their closing remarks - similar to their opening remarks except that Mr. Glass tripped over his words more - and Archie announced that voting would begin in fifteen minutes. There were only six booths set up (two near the front doors and four more off to the side), so Bae imagined the whole process would take a while.

He was right. Mayor Mills was the very first person to cast her vote, but Papa decided to wait and watch the crowd until the lines shorted a bit. Henry took advantage of those few minutes when Ms. Mills was busy voting to congratulate Emma on the debate. Mary Margaret joined them. When Mayor Mills came back to collect Henry, she said something that made Mary Margaret cower and Emma puff up defensively. Bae frowned.

“Papa?”

“Yes?”

“Does Mayor Mills dislike Mary Margaret?”

“Intensely.”

“Why? Mary Margaret is so nice.”

“That’s… a complicated question to answer. There’s history there I probably shouldn’t share with you. But I will say that Ms. Mills’ grudge against Mary Margaret is not rooted very firmly in reality.”

“Hm.” Bae wanted to ask more questions, but it was probably not the time or place for that. He started watching the crowd instead. He saw Ashley Boyd with a man he assumed was her baby’s father. They took turns holding the baby while the other voted, then went to talk to Emma. They didn’t stay long, probably because they had to take the baby home.

Some time after that, Papa finally got up to go vote. He pointed out that Mr. Dove was waiting by the entrance, and told Bae to wait with him. “OK, Papa.”

Mr. Dove was watching everything as impassively as he usually did. Bae said, “Hi,” and the large man nodded.

Mary Margaret came up to them a few minutes later. “Hello, Bae!”

“Hello, Mary Margaret.”

“And Mr. Dove, is it? I’m Mary Margaret, Emma’s roommate. I just wanted to thank you for that letter you wrote. It helped a lot.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Did you vote yet?”

“I can’t.”

Mary Margaret looked confused. “Oh? Why not?”

“Felony conviction.”

“I… oh! Right. Emma can’t either.”

“She can’t?” Bae asked. “But Mr. Glass can? That’s hardly fair.”

Mary Margaret shrugged. “I know. But it’s the law. But there are lots of people here for Emma; I think we have a good shot!”

“I hope so.”

“Bae?” Bae looked around when he heard his name; it was David, arm in arm with a blonde woman Bae assumed was his wife.

“Hi, David.”

“Hi. I just wanted to see how you were doing, and introduce you to my wife. Kathryn, this is Baeden Gold. Bae, this my wife, Kathryn Nolan.”

“Pleased to meet you, Baeden” Mrs. Nolan said, offering her hand.

Bae shook it. “Nice to meet you. You can call me Bae if you want; everyone does.” Except the Mayor, but Bae was fine with that.

“I hear your father’s shop is responsible for my husband getting his memory back.” She smiled, leaning her head towards David. Bae thought he looked just a little uncomfortable with that.

“Uh, I guess? It was the windmill, right? It used to be yours?” he asked David.

“Yeah. I guess I just needed that trigger. Have you…” David trailed off, but Bae knew what he meant.

Bae shook his head. “No, not really. I… know some things, I guess? Like we had a dog. I knew that. But I don’t actually remember anything.”

“Well that’s something!” Mary Margaret said, trying to sound encouraging.

“Mary Margaret, hi!” David said awkwardly, like he was seeing her standing there for the first time. “I didn’t know you and Bae knew each other!”

“Mr. Gold helped a lot with Emma’s campaign,” she replied, also awkwardly. Bae tilted his head. Was he missing something? Kathryn looked upset.

“Really? That’s…”

“Ahem.” Papa said from behind him. David jumped.

“Oh! Hello, Mr. Gold. So, uh, you helped with Emma’s campaign?”

Papa gave David a scrutinizing look. “Not so much with the campaign as with her candidacy in the first place. Mayor Mills had everyone under the impression that she could simply fire Miss Swan and replace her with a Sheriff of her choosing; I corrected that misconception.”

“Oh! Well… that’s good.”

“Indeed. Bae, would you like to step outside for a bit while they tally the votes?”

Bae nodded. Having so many people standing around him was making him feel penned in; he didn’t like it. “Goodbye, everyone.”

“I’ll see you in a bit when they announce the winner!” Mary Margaret said cheerfully.

“OK.”

“Come along, Bae.” Papa put a hand on his back, and hurried him outside. It was dark now, but not too cold, and Bae could suddenly breathe easier. He hadn’t even realized how much the crowd was affecting him until he got away from it. “Are you OK, Son?”

Bae nodded and managed a smile. “Yes, Papa, thank you.”

“You’re sure? We can go home if you want to.”

Bae shook his head “No, I want to hear the results. I’m fine.” Papa didn’t look convinced, so Bae changed the subject. “Do you know why David and Mary Margaret are so…”

Papa smiled, “Strained? Yes. Seems they fell for each other a bit while he was in the hospital. Which would be no problem at all, except he’d married to Kathryn. At the moment, they’re studiously trying to avoid each other, and not necessarily succeeding.”

“Ah.”

They didn’t talk for a bit after that, just stood off to the side while Bae thought about how different Storybrooke looked at night. He used to find it unsettling, but tonight it just seemed peaceful. He supposed that was the difference between having a place to go home to and not.

It took nearly an hour for the last of the votes to be cast and the totals calculated. Papa said that Ms. Mills was insistent on counting the votes twice, just to make sure. Most people didn’t stay for the tally, and after a while Bae and Papa moved back inside, taking seats on the edge of the crowd and talking about nothing important.

The winner was announced with what Bae thought was rather a lot of ceremony considering how few people were left. Mayor Mills gave a little speech, and from how irritated she looked, Bae thought Emma must have won.

He was right, although Mayor Mills did say it was very close. Everyone applauded (even the people who did not look too happy) and Bae hugged his father without even thinking about it. He’d been scared, he knew, but on top of that was something else he couldn’t quite explain. Papa, he knew, was also relieved that Emma had won and hugged him back, ignoring the stares people sent their way.

Mary Margaret and Archie called for Emma to give a speech. She did, but reluctantly. “Um, I just want to thank everyone who voted, and the people who helped me with my , ah, campaign.” She glanced a Papa then, and he smirked at her, his arm still around Bae. “I’d especially like to thank Mary Margaret, who was amazing. Um, that’s it. So… I guess it’s time for me to get to work.”

There was laughter, and Mary Margaret announced, “Please join us for the victory party at Granny’s!”

They did.

Bae didn’t think Papa had been planning to, but Bae had asked if they could, and Papa had smiled at him and said, “Whatever you like, Bae.”

Then Emma had said something to Mary Margaret about marshmallows, but Bae couldn’t hear exactly what.

It was a good night.

XxXxXxX

They’d won. Emma was Sheriff. The people supported her. And Bae had hugged him and smiled at him like he’d done something heroic. Rumplestiltskin knew that last part couldn’t last, but he would do everything in his power to drag it out a long as he could.

Even go to a victory party at Granny’s. Ah, well, watching everyone’s reactions as he lurked about in the corner should prove to be at least mildly amusing.

But not as amusing as the look on Regina’s face when she handed Emma the Sherriff’s badge.

Chapter Text

Operation Cobra was back on. Emma was Sheriff. More and more people were finding their way towards their happy endings, and Henry knew it was only a matter of time before Emma broke the curse and freed everyone for good.

And now a pretty girl was talking to Henry. Life was looking up.

XxXxXxX

Rumplestiltskin looked up from polishing the genie’s lamp (he’d a mind to display it, see if he could get a reaction out of Regina or, better yet, Sydney) when the bell above the door rang.

“Hi, Emma!” Bae greeted. He’d been better since the election, Rumplestiltskin thought, happier. He’d talked to a few people at the victory party and was, Rumplestiltskin noticed, developing a little bit of a crush on Ruby. Rumplestiltskin wasn’t sure how he felt about that. It was both normal and healthy, both of which Rumplestiltskin badly wanted for his boy, but between her age and her outfits, Rumplestiltskin would have preferred that Bae focus his attentions somewhere else. Where were all the Morraines in this world? Rumplestiltskin had liked Morraine.

“Hey, kid. How are you doing?”

“Fine. How are you?”

“Got a few questions for your dad, actually - hoping he can help me with an investigation.”

Bae smiled at him hopefully. “I’ll help you if I can, Sheriff,” Rumplestiltskin said honestly. For that smile there wasn’t very much he wouldn’t do.

“I’m looking for information on this old compass. Any ideas where it could have come from?”

Ah, the woodsman’s compass. He’d heard from one of his contacts that Hansel and Gretel had been found earlier that morning and were in danger of being sent to foster homes in Boston (not that the curse would actually allow them to leave); Regina couldn’t have given Emma greater motivation to thwart her if she’d tried.

“Well, let me see.” He picked the compass up and made a show of examining it. In reality, he knew it well - he’d enchanted it for the woodsman’s grandfather in exchange for a magical axe. “Well, well, look at the detail. You know this is crystal? Jeweled setting. And despite the rather unfortunate shape it’s in, this is actually a very unusual piece. The person who owned this obviously had great taste.”

“Where would someone like that buy it?”

He smiled and tapped the counter. “Why, right here, of course.”

“You’re sure?”

“Oh, yes. A piece like this is difficult to forget.”

She looked genuinely grateful, which was a novelty for him, and spoke to how personal this was for her. Oh, Regina, you chose this move poorly indeed. “Do you happen to remember who bought it?” the Savior asked.

He laughed and walked over to the register, where he kept his boxes of customer information. “Well, I’m good with names, Miss Swan, but maybe not that good. However, as luck would have it, I do keep quite extensive records.” He put one of the boxes on the counter and pulled out a blank card at random. “Aha, here it is - the compass was purchased by one Michael Tillman.”

“Anything else?”

“Just a name. But I generally find that’s all one needs.”

“Thanks, I owe you.” He smiled. Oh, I do love it when they say that.

“Bye, Emma!” Bae called as she hurried out.

“See you later, kid!”

Bae smiled at him again. Oh, he’d take that favor from Emma - never would Rumplestiltskin turn down a favor, especially from the Savior of all people - but he could not imagine it could be for anything as valuable as what she just had just given him.

XxXxXxX

A stranger was in town - now that was interesting.

Hansel and Gretel had been reunited with their father - which was good news all around - and Bae’s delight when he learned the nature of the case Rumplestiltskin had helped Emma with was indeed priceless. But then a stranger had ridden in on a motorcycle and immediately started making himself at home in Storybrooke.

Fortunately, he appeared to be on Emma’s side, but Rumplestiltskin would be keeping a very close eye on that. He’d never known Regina to use that kind of deception before (an oversight on her part - if she could have turned or replaced a dwarf, the war would have ended very differently), but it was a new world and she would be feeling desperate soon if she was not already.

To have found the town and been allowed to settle in, the stranger must have been from the Enchanted Forest or a related world, although Rumplestiltskin had no idea who he might be or how he got to the Land Without Magic without being cursed. Then again, Rumplestiltskin also still had no idea how Bae had ended up cursed if he was already in the Land Without Magic. Could they have somehow switched places? The stranger would have been a boy 28 years ago, but not, Rumplestiltskin thought, quite Baelfire’s age.

He would have to think on it. In the meantime, he would make a renewed effort to locate the people he knew should be in Storybrooke, paying particular attention to the young boys. Perhaps he could divine the stranger’s identity that way, and it might also supply him with new quests for Emma. The curse, he thought, was pushing people like Hansel and Gretel into Emma’s path, but he saw no harm in hurrying things along if he could.

XxXxXxX

Henry was a Godsend. He was also a punch to the gut. August had had no idea that Emma had been pregnant when he’d chased Nate (Baelfire) off and called the cops on her. If he had known… well, August still wasn’t sure what he would have done. He’d never been very good at saying no to Blue, at least when she asked for something more specific than honestly, courage, and selflessness.

Those things just didn’t come naturally to him; they never had. He often wondered what was wrong with him, that he found it so difficult to live up to who he was supposed to be, and then ended up drowning those thought in cheap liquor and sex. And yes, he knew that only made it worse. But Henry. God. August hoped that he’d at least been able to make a different choice if he’d know Emma’s kid would end up with the Evil Queen. Why didn’t Blue say anything? I’d have come back if she’d said something… I think.

But this time was different. Emma was here, and he was going to help her. She was going to break the curse, August would turn back into a flesh and blood man, and then he’d find his father, beg everyone’s forgiveness, and they’d live happily ever after. He hoped. Even if he was flesh by then, August didn’t know how he was going to explain to Papa what he’d been doing all this time when he was supposed to be guiding Emma to break the curse. “Sorry Papa, I know I was supposed to be helping the Savior and all, but I wanted to get drunk and screw in every time zone.” Yeah, that’ll go over real well. Fuck.

But he’d figure that out later. First he had to make sure the curse was broken before he turned completely back into wood. It wasn’t like before. He didn’t have the easy movement in his leg that he’d had as a magically animated puppet; it was almost completely lifeless. If he turned back entirely before the curse broke, he knew he’d die.

He knew he should bring it up with Blue, but he was ashamed. Blue had always had that way of making him feel ten inches tall not matter how minor the screw-up, and there really was no screw-up worse than what he’d done. No, he wasn’t going to say anything about it to her. Besides, she already knew he was turning back; if there was any other hope for him, he was sure she’d have told him. He simply had to help Emma break the curse; that was all he could do.

Towards that end, he’d started gathering information as soon as he’d ridden into town. Blue had been no help whatsoever; she’d simply told him, “You must do this on your own, Pinocchio,” and retreated to her convent. Haven’t the last 28 years proven pretty definitively that I can’t?

But Henry - Henry was an enormous help. August had learned from asking around that he had the Book and was already working on Emma. Apparently, he’d even hopped a bus and brought her here to Storybrooke himself. I should have done that, August thought, suddenly hyperaware of the pain in his leg. Stop, that isn’t helping. Focus.

The Evil Queen kept a pretty close watch on Henry, but over time, August was sure he’d be able to make friends with the kid. Between the Book and the two of them, they could make Emma believe.

Maybe he’d be able to catch the Henry outside his house this morning. There was a big storm due later in the afternoon; August decided to take it as a good sign.

XxXxXxX

“I’m back, Papa! See, I told you I’d get back before the storm.”

“Indeed you did,” Rumplestiltskin said with a self-depreciating smile. Years of living in conditions where violent storms were more dangerous than inconvenient had made him especially cautious about letting Bae go out today, but Bae had argued the point. The storm wasn’t even due for a couple more hours yet, and Rumplestiltskin really hadn’t been in the position to refuse him no matter how much he would have preferred otherwise.

“The drug store and five and dime are mobbed.”

Rumplestiltskin nodded. “Citizens stocking up for the storm, I expect.”

“Um hm. There’s a sign in front of the Five and Dime for storm candles. How are storm candles different than regular candles, anyway?”

“They’re meant to be used during storms, of course.” Bae gave him a look.

Rumplestiltskin laughed. “The concept is simply a reminder to always have a supply of candles set aside in case of an emergency power outage. Although from a safety standpoint, battery operated flashlights and lanterns are better.”

“I see. We’re all set, right?”

“Oh, yes.” Rumplestiltskin had already pulled out several lanterns, and had even packed extra food in their lunch today in case they got stranded at the shop past dinner. “Our only concern if the power goes out will be the food in the refrigerator at home.”

“Good. If the power does go out, do I still have to work on my essay?”

“Of course. Why do you think I reminded you to charge your laptop before you left?”

Bae groaned.

XxXxXxX

Approaching Henry had clearly been the right move. Emma had then come to August, and he thought it had gone well. He’d meant to intrigue her, to get her to start asking questions, and get a feel for what she already knew. She did seem to have already realized that visitors were rare in Storybrooke, which was a good sign.

He’d also noticed the Sheriff’s badge she was wearing proudly. He’d heard several different accounts of how Emma had come to be Sheriff, varying from your classic tale of heroism to Emma selling herself to the mysterious Mr. Gold, who appeared to own the town and was the focus of even more rumors than either Emma or Regina.

August’s initial (and terrifying) theory was that Mr. Gold was Rumplestiltskin, but he had scrapped that immediately when he had learned the man had recently been reunited with his teenage son. Nate was certainly no teenager, and, as far as August knew, he’d never made any effort to contact Emma or anybody else after August had run him off. The Blue Fairy had been right about him - like father, like son.

No, Mr. Gold had to be someone else. Midas perhaps? Or even the Sorcerer? It was worrying. It didn’t help that no one seemed to know exactly why the man was so feared. All anyone could really agree on was that Gold was a bastard but did love his kid, who was apparently either standoffish or a total sweetheart depending on who you asked. He also had some kind of bodyguard, a hulking man named Mr. Dove, who had gotten in a fistfight with Emma and then written to the paper about it when they’d tried to lambaste Emma over the whole thing. It was bizarre.

And then there was the Book. The Apprentice had told August about the Book and given him his own story to add to it. Unfortunately, he hadn’t mentioned that someone else would already have it, and as helpful as Henry was, August still had to figure out how to get it away from him. In the meantime, it might be worth it to make visit to Gold’s shop. It was a risk, but August was desperate.

XxXxXxX

The bell above the door jingled merrily. “Hello!” Bae greeted the customer. He was tall, with dark hair, and was wearing a leather jacket.

He smiled conspiratorially. “Um, hi. Shouldn’t you be in school?”

Bae sighed. He was getting sick of that question. “I am in school.” He lifted his algebra book to show him the cover. “My Papa teaches me.”

“Oh, homeschooler, huh?” Bae nodded. “Religious?”

Bae laughed. “No.”

Papa came out from the office. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, just looking.”

Papa gave him an intense look. “I see. I don’t believe we’ve met. Are you new in town, perhaps?”

The man nodded and smiled. “Just visiting, though.”

“Family?”

The man’s smile suddenly looked strained. “No, just… looking for inspiration. I’m a writer. You don’t happen service antique typewriters, do you?”

“Oh, I might be able to have a look, but if it needs any real work, Marco’s the one you should talk to. Can I get you his number?” Papa asked with a smile.

The stranger definitely looked uncomfortable now. “That’d be great, thank you.”

Papa pulled the phone book out from under the counter and began flipping through it. “Have you traveled far?”

“Oh, yes; I’ve been all over.”

“What kind of books do you write?” Bae asked.

The man’s smile turned sly. “Well, not algebra books, that’s for sure.”

“Here it is, Marco’s Handyman & Woodwork Services,” Papa begin writing the information on a piece of paper, “But I assure you he’s an expert with clockwork and pretty much anything that doesn’t run on electricity. I’m assuming by antique you mean non-electric?”

Papa handed the man the paper, and he took it, folding it carefully and putting it inside his jacket. “Yes, thank you. Are you Mr. Gold?”

“I am. May I ask your name? I could call Marco, let him know you’re coming.”

The man definitely flinched then. “No, no, this is fine; thank you.”

The bell jingled again. Bae glanced at one of the clocks; it was 10:58. He’d been so focused on his math problems that he’d lost track of time. “Crap! Sorry, Mr. Dove, I just need to change real quick.”

Papa shifted a bit to let him by. “No need to rush; Mr. Dove doesn’t mind.”

“I mind,” Bae shot back, “It’s rude.”

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” the stranger asked.

“That’s none of your business,” Papa said coldly.

“Papa, be nice!” Bae shouted from the back room as he changed into his sweats. Bae did not like it when Papa was rude to people. Archie had told Bae that he should speak up when his father did something he didn’t like, and Papa had said the same thing (although this was probably not what he had in mind), so he was.

Papa was frowning at him as he came back into the front room, but he didn’t seem mad, only annoyed (and concerned, but that was always the case). “I’ll be back by noon; love you, Papa.” Bae hugged him; he found that usually helped.

It did. Papa smiled and hugged him back. “I love you to; don’t be late.”

“I won’t.”

The stranger was watching him with a curious look, and Papa gave him another intense stare in return. “Was there anything else, Mr…”

“Nope, I think this is all I need. Thank you, Mr. Gold.”

Mr. Dove opened the door for him as he often did. “You really don’t have to do that,” Bae told him.

“I don’t mind.”

Bae did. It made him feel like some kind of spoiled prince, but he couldn’t say that to Mr. Dove; it was hard enough to say things like that to his father. “OK, um, thank you.” And he stepped outside, heading down Main Street.

He almost stopped when he saw the Mayor headed towards Papa’s shop. She gave them a stern look as she walked by, but didn’t stop to speak to them, and Bae knew Papa didn’t want him talking to her. He knew he was just supposed to carry on with his run, and ask Papa later what they’d talked about. And after last time… that’s exactly what he did.

XxXxXxX

Rumplestiltskin smirked as Regina and Pinocchio - his reaction to the mention of Marco said it all - almost collided at the front door of his shop.

“Mr. Booth,” Regina snapped, “Do watch where you’re going.”

“Sorry, Madam Mayor,” the puppet said with more sarcasm than Rumplestiltskin would have given him credit for. He was more angry than afraid of her - that was good.

Regina watched him leave with a furious scowl on her face. She did not appear to know who he was, and it was clearly driving her mad. Good.

“Mr. Gold,” she said coldly.

“Regina,” he responded in kind. Now, what does she want?

“I’m interested in purchasing some land from you.”

“Can’t say I’m interested in selling.” He was actually, just not to her - this whole real estate business was incredibly tedious. He imagined it was part of his punishment under the curse to have wealth and power in a form that demanded both constant upkeep and interaction with other people.

“Are you certain? I haven’t made my offer yet.”

“It would have to be extremely favorable; I’m really very busy these days.”

“Indeed,” she sneered, “Between your real estate, shop, and new found civic involvement, it’s a wonder you have any time for your son at all. I do hope his studies aren’t being neglected; I’ve heard homeschooling is very time intensive if you do it right.”

Oh, she would pay. Thoroughly. He just had to have patience. “I believe that if something is important enough, you make the time. Tell me why your little request is important enough for me to take the time away from my other priorities.”

“It’s for the benefit of the citizens of Storybrooke. You did say you were invested in the common good, did you not?”

He gave her a mocking smile. “Indeed I did. Planning some sort of public works project?”

She smiled. “Yes.”

“And is there any particular reason it needs to be built on my land? I know Mr. Hand has some undeveloped parcels.”

“I require discretion and speed; Mr. Hand is capable of neither.”

“And what is this project you’re so anxious to get underway?”

“Part of discretion is that you don’t ask questions.”

Rumplestiltskin scoffed. “So, you wish to pay above market value for a plot of land that you intend to use for a public works project that you refuse to discuss even with the seller of the land? I’m sorry, Regina, I don’t believe that is the best use of my tax dollars.”

She gave him an angry, doubting look. “Since when do you care about details like that as long as the price is right?”

“Oh, if you have to ask that, you don’t know me well at all; I always care about the details.”

She stalked right up to him and leaned into his personal space. “You’ve changed, Gold. Your son has made you soft.”

Instead of leaning back, he leaned towards her, forcing her to retreat. “Not in the slightest. I’m just not interested in helping you.”

“Why not, if it gets you what you want?”

“And what is it you think I want, Madam Mayor?”

“Money, of course; you have a son to provide for now.”

He laughed. “I don’t need your help providing for my son.”

“No? What about protecting him? I noticed he still has his bodyguard - worried?”

He fantasied about plucking her eyes form her skull and popping them like grapes. “Are you threatening my son in order to compel me to sell to you, Madam Mayor? That’s quite illegal; shall I call the Sheriff?”

The twist of her lips confirmed what he had expected; she needed this deal in order to make her next move against Emma. He was not interested in disrupting the rapport he currently had with Emma, nor was he about to let Regina think that threatening Bae would ever get her what she wanted. He was inclined to simply throw her out, but learning details of her plan to pass along to Emma would be even better if she could be persuaded to let any slip.

“Now, now, no need to get upset. That wasn’t a threat, merely an observation. It just seems strange, is all, that the Sheriff you had such faith in is elected and yet you still feel your son needs personal protection. What kind of town do you think she will turn Storybrooke into?”

“She is not the source of my concern, Regina, as you well know.”

“Still, it speaks to her lack of skill that you don’t trust her to do her job.”

“Oh, I trust her well enough; but why make it harder for her? The only law enforcement in a town this size? She can’t be everywhere at once.”

“Hmm,” Regina smiled, “So you think she needs some assistance? A deputy, perhaps?”

“Well, Sheriff Humbert apparently did.” She bristled; he laughed internally.

“Graham was a good Sheriff,” she snarled. Who are you trying to convince, dearie?

“I’m not disputing that. Miss Swan is a good Sheriff too, but it is a big job.”

“Hmm. So am I to understand I’m wasting my time with you regarding the land?”

“Not necessarily, but I can’t judge that if you don’t tell me what it’s for. I might be persuaded to assist in a public service project if it is worthy.”

She sneered. “Fine. I’m building a play area to replace the wooden structure in Milkshore Park that was destroyed by the storm.”

“Why not just replace the structure on the existing land? I don’t even have any oceanfront parcels available at the moment.”

“A play area in the woods would be safer, and less open to future storm damage.”

“I see. And the urgency of this request?”

Her mouth twisted again. Had he been anyone else, he might have been convinced by her seeming reluctance to speak. “I’ve scheduled the remains of the wooden structure to be bulldozed for safety reasons, but I fear Henry will be upset with me. It is his favorite place to play, and from what he’s said, he expects it to be rebuilt. I’d like to offer this alternative as soon as possible. Surely you can understand that?”

“Oh, he’s a good boy; if you explain it to him, I’m sure he’ll have patience.”

“I was hoping to make it a surprise.”

A surprise for her son. With taxpayer money. Even if she was being completely sincere, which she was not, she’d just confessed to intending to misappropriate funds. “Well, Mayor, I can’t say I object to the project itself, but instead of bypassing the usual channels, perhaps this is an opportunity for Henry to learn more about local government? Tell you what; come back with a proposal approved by the city council, and I’ll sell the town that land at a fair price. The city could even hold a design contest for the play structures; I hear that’s a popular way to get the public involved. I bet Henry would love to draw up an entry for something like that.”

Oh, this was good. She was seething so much she was practically choking on it. “I’m afraid the structure is already designed and the parts ordered. You’re certain you can’t be persuaded to make this deal?”

“I just told you my conditions, Regina. If you can’t meet them, then I am afraid you will have to inquire elsewhere.”

“Well, then it does seem I’m wasting my time. I trust you’ll at least have the decency not to ruin my surprise for Henry out of spite?”

“I bear Henry no ill will, and I haven’t seen him since the night of the election regardless.”

“Good. See that it stays that way. He doesn’t need your… influence.” Nor yours, dearie. “But I was speaking about Miss Swan. If she learned of this, she’d do whatever she had to spoil it. She’s trying to convince my son I’m a monster; surely you can sympathize?” She’s not doing a damn thing, dearie; this is all you.

“Whether I do or not, you know I never do anything for free, Regina. What are you willing to offer for my silence?” He was pushing it, he knew, but Gold would have asked for a price, and Rumplestiltskin could not allow Regina to think he had gone ‘soft’.

The resentment on her face was truly marvelous. “What do you want?”

“From you? I’m afraid I can’t think of anything at the moment. How about, you’ll owe me a favor?”

“And you won’t say a word about this to anyone?”

“I’ll not say one word.” How accommodating of her to be so specific. I won’t say a word, but e-mail? Texting? Pen and paper? There are so many other options to choose from in this new land.

“Very well. I’ll let you get back to your work.”

“And you, Madam Mayor.”

XxXxXxX

In the end, he hadn’t even needed to use his loophole. Bae had only asked about any threats she made, not the deal itself, and Emma had decided to ally with Sydney Glass of all people without so much as giving Rumplestiltskin a call. And, predictably, she fell right into Regina’s trap. He had learned from Bae (who had learned from the Internet) that ‘facepalm’ was apparently now a verb. He was sorely tempted to do it.

Instead, he waited until the meeting was over and caught up to Emma, who still appeared to trust Glass for some inexplicable reason. Rumplestiltskin hadn’t thought Emma a complete imbecile, but he was starting to change his opinion.

“Miss Swan. Mr. Glass.”

“Oh, hey, Gold. Hi, Bae.”

Bae waved. “Hi, Emma. Hello, Mr. Glass.”

“You know, your intent in there was commendable, but I really wish you’d come to me first.”

“Why? Did you know what she was planning?”

“I did. She came to me first for the land; I turned her down.”

Emma looked genuinely shocked. Really? An illegal real estate transaction and you didn’t think I’d have any useful input? “Well. Damn. I guess that would have been a good idea. Are offering to help the next time?”

Rumplestiltskin knew it shouldn’t be, but that question was genuinely annoying. He wasn’t in least bit trustworthy, but Emma didn’t know that. All she knew was that he’d helped her repeatedly and asked for very little in return. Glass, on the other hand, had smeared her in the paper and humiliated her in front of her son and yet she seemed to trust him without question. Rumplestiltskin had worked hard to earn Emma’s trust; Glass hadn’t. Maybe she senses what you are. You can’t hide from the Savior forever, dearie.

“Yes,” he replied simply.

“For a price,” Regina added from behind him. “I warned you before, Miss Swan, Mr. Gold does nothing for free.”

Rumplestiltskin sneered. “Oh, I don’t know; I imagine the look on your face would be payment enough.”

She snorted. “What an upstanding example you’re setting for your son, Mr. Gold.”

“Yes,” Bae replied seriously, looking her straight in the eye, “He is.” Rumplestiltskin almost grinned.

She narrowed her eyes, and Rumplestiltskin instinctively put his cane between her and Bae. “Did you want something, Mayor Mills?”

“Not from you. I need a word with Sheriff Swan.”

Rumplestiltskin looked at Emma; she nodded. “I see. Have a good evening, Miss Swan.”

“Same to you. Bye, Bae.”

Bae looked concerned, but there was nothing he could do. “Bye, Emma. Ms. Mills. Mr. Glass.”

“Good evening, Baeden,” Regina said with a threatening smile. Rumplestiltskin sorely wished to wipe that expression off her face. Violently.

Your reckoning will come, dearie. Soon.

Chapter Text

“Pinocchio, I told you that you must do this on your own. It would be best for everyone if we were not seen together.”

“Yes, Blue, I know that, but I found something in the Book that affects Emma on a personal level; I need answers.” Since his well-being wasn’t exactly Blue’s concern, August hoped that mentioning Emma’s might help.

It didn’t. “Emma’s destiny is the break the curse; that is all you must help her with.”

“No, I owe it to her to help with this. This is about Henry’s dad.”

Blue frowned, and August got the impression that she knew what he was going to ask. “Did you not protect her from him as I asked you to?”

“I did exactly what you asked, but apparently not to the person to asked me to do it. I don’t think Nate was Baelfire. I’ve met Gold’s son, and he looks just like the picture in the Book. The kid’s name is even Bae. He’s Baelfire, isn’t he? And Gold is Rumplestiltskin.”

Her frown deepened. “Yes. But it changes nothing. Henry’s father was still a poor influence on Emma, even if he was not the Dark One’s son.”

“So who was he?”

“I don’t know.”

“When did you know he wasn’t who you said he was?”

“When Baelfire was found, just days after Emma’s arrival in Storybrooke.”

“I see. And Rumplestiltskin is awake, isn’t he?”

“I believe so. In either case, stay away from him and the boy. Even as Mr. Gold he was dangerous; he will be immeasurably so now. And you have shown yourself particularly vulnerable to his kind of manipulation.” Really? Does he guilt trip half as well as you? “Worry not, Pinocchio, this changes nothing of importance. Henry is exactly as he is meant to be, even if our predictions regarding his parentage were wrong. And Baelfire being found also impacts little; Rumplestiltskin will continue to be the Dark One as he was before.”

“You’re sure? I hear he’s- Wait, ‘Henry is as he was meant to be’? ‘Predictions about his parentage’ - you knew Emma was pregnant? Why didn’t you tell me?”

She blinked, looking genuinely surprised by his question. “Would it have mattered?”

“Of course! She had to give him up because of what I did! You said I was helping her!”

“You did help her; all is as it was meant to be.”

“Emma’s son was ‘meant’ to be adopted by the Evil Queen?”

“Yes. He is what brought her here.”

“I was supposed to bring her here!”

“But you didn’t, did you?”

“I-” August had no defense for that. “Did you know I wouldn’t?”

“I knew Henry would. That it was because you had failed in your duty; that was still your choice, Pinocchio.”

“I- I-”

She pursed her lips. “You should not have come here, Pinocchio, and you should not have stayed so long. If you have no other questions-”

“Wait! I do, I do. Rumplestiltskin - do you know what he is planning?”

She sighed. “By all accounts, he is pitting Emma against Regina, as is her destiny.”

“So he still wants the curse broken?”

“It appears so, but it matters not. Do not approach him, Pinocchio, or Baelfire; you could jeopardize everything.”

August cringed. “I, ah, may already have.”

Blue narrowed her eyes in that piercing way August hated. “That was very foolish, Pinocchio.”

“I didn’t know who they were then; I was trying to figure it out. Gold is a major player in this town, and because of Nate I didn’t think he could be Rumplestiltskin. I thought he might be the Sorcerer.” If you’d just told me…

“Well,” she said condescendingly, “What’s done is done. But do not approach either one of them again; everyone is relying on you to help Emma believe.”

“But if Rumplestiltskin also wants the curse broken…”

“No,” she said sharply. “Accept no aid from him. Whatever intentions he claims to have do not matter. The Dark One contaminates all he touches; he cannot do otherwise. What love he still has for his son cannot stand against the darkness of his curse, even in this world.”

“Then why try to send them here?” She gave him a startled look. “It’s, ah, in the Book.”

“Without magic, the damage his evil can do is significantly lessened. I thought it worth the risk, especially given how short a time he’d been the Dark One at that point. Things are different now; he has power in this world from his dealings with the Queen, and centuries more of knowledge. Do not approach him.”

“And what about his kid? Are we just going to leave him with the Dark One?”

She smiled at him, but it did not look sincere. “It is good of you, Pinocchio, to worry for Baelfire, and for Henry, but they are not your concern. Emma is your concern. Help her believe; that is the only thing you can do for any of us, including Baelfire and Henry.”

August had questions - so, so many questions - but he could tell he would get nothing else from her. He sighed. “All right, Blue. Thanks.”

XxXxXxX

Well, at least the walkie-talkies were getting some use now. Regina had finally taken steps to separate Emma and Henry, and as far as Rumplestiltskin could tell, Emma was toing the line for the time being - at least in regards to physical contact. Speaking, however, that was another matter. Rumplestiltskin was pleased with himself.

Another rent day came and went. Moe French, as predicted, did not make his monthly payment. It was the second missed payment, and his collateral was now forfeit. Rumplestiltskin waited until February 13th just to make it sting that much more (and it would sting - Rumplestiltskin’s prediction regarding holidays was correct, and with the curse weakened by Emma’s triumphs, Valentine’s Day was now seeing far more celebration than Christmas had). If asked, he could even say he’d given the man five extra days to make his payment.

Oh, Rumplestiltskin would have liked to be there when Dove took French’s van, but he knew how it would look; Storybrooke’s beast gloating over another conquest. It didn’t matter that Maurice was far from innocent in either world; in any story he was in, Rumplestiltskin (as himself or Mr. Gold) was always the villain. He didn’t want to be a villain to his boy. So he sent Dove after the van alone and stayed at the shop, giving Bae a biology lesson.

It was actually their day to do history, but they were up to the causes of the Civil War and, in reviewing the text, the word ‘belle’ had jumped out at Rumplestiltskin like an accusation. Today of all days, he just didn’t have it in him to face that word and everything attached to it.

Eleven approached and Dove entered the shop. “How did it go?” Rumplestiltskin asked him as Bae hurried off to change for his run.

“It’s done. He was angry.”

“I imagine so. Thank you, Mr. Dove.” Dove bowed, hands clasped in front of him.

They stood in silence (and really, that was once of Dove’s best qualities, he didn’t chatter at him - not like Her) until Bae was ready to go. “We’ll be back, Papa!” Bae said cheerfully as they left.

“Have fun, Bae.”

“I will!”

Once they were gone, Rumplestiltskin opened the safe (when he’d hidden the dagger there, he’d changed the combination to keep Regina out - it was now one of the very few places in town she could not access) and just stared at the jewelry box that contained Belle’s cup. Eventually, reverently, he took the box out and pulled out the cup, just to prove to himself that it was still there.

He held it, staring at it, for nearly twenty minutes before he heard stomping, and a sharp, loud ringing as the door was thrown open. Rumplestiltskin snarled. It was Moe. He hastily put the cup back in the box, not bothering with the velvet bag. The cup was his; Maurice had no right even to look at it.

“Gold!”

“Mr. French.”

“You need to give me my van back!”

“No, I really don’t. The terms of the loan were fairly specific.”

“I have a grand in roses in the back; you have to let me sell them! I’ll have your money by next week!”

“Again, no, I don’t. The money was due last week. Now, remove yourself from my shop, Mr. French. I have nothing more to say to you.” He did, of course, but nothing that would make sense to Maurice’s cursed self.

“This is no way to do business, Gold; people aren’t going to put up with it!”

“Put up with the legal repossession of defaulted collateral? I think you’ll find they will. Now, this is your final warning: get out, before I have you arrested for trespassing.”

Moe barked a laugh. “By your pretty pet Sheriff? I’ve heard all about you, Gold-”

“Get. Out,” Rumplestiltskin growled. His vision was turning red, and if he hadn’t locked up his handguns immediately after finding Bae, Moe would have been staring down a barrel. But apparently his tone was enough.

Fear flashed across Moe’s face, and he yanked the door open. “You haven’t heard the last of this, Gold!” he shouted futilely, and slammed the door behind him. Rumplestiltskin snatched up a porcelain figurine and hurled it at the door, smashing it to dust. It was followed by another and another, until the entire set of twelve was in broken pieces on the floor. It didn’t help in the slightest.

XxXxXxX

His father was upset. When Bae got back from his run, he could tell that something had happened. “Papa, are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Son.” It was a lie.

“You’re upset.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.”

“Bae-”

“Did Regina do something?”

“Oh! No, no, Bae, this has nothing to do with her. Mr. French came by to dispute the terms of his loan, and insinuated some things about Sheriff Swan that I did not appreciate. That’s all.”

“I… oh. What did he say?”

“Nothing of import. I should not have let it bother me as much as I did.”

“Oh.”

Papa smiled, but Bae could tell he was still upset. “Why don’t you go get our lunch out of the fridge?”

“I… OK.” But before heading to the back room, Bae pulled Papa into a brief hug. At least, he intended it to be brief; Papa hugged back and held on. Bae let him. Maybe Papa didn’t want to talk about what was bothering him, but at least he could do this.

XxXxXxX

He had Bae. Bae was everything. He couldn’t afford to think about Belle. If he thought about Belle, he’d think of how she died, and then he’d be able to think of nothing else except what he wanted to do to Maurice.

Maurice was her father. How could he have done that to her? Having Bae back only brought the full horror of it into sharp relief. Never, not for anything, could Rumplestiltskin imagine even thinking about doing to his boy what Maurice had done to Belle. He’d never even disciplined Bae with a switch, even though Milah and half the town had called him a coward for it (never mind that Bae was the best-behaved lad in the village). But to hand Belle over to be tortured and call it right? Maurice was more a monster than Rumplestiltskin had ever been. The clerics too; at least when Rumplestiltskin tortured someone, he never claimed he was on the side of the angels.

He’d annihilated their order after Regina had told him of Belle’s fate. He’d been unable to touch Maurice without breaking his deal with Belle, but the clerics had been no friends of hers; he’d killed them to a man. He should have done it years before. He’d made many a deal with desperate souls seeking to escape their wrath; some had even been able to move him to pity. He should have removed their influence. He should have made sure Belle did not return to Avonlea. She was supposed to leave and go on grand adventures, damn it! He’d left her a pack of tools, clothing, and provisions, everything she needed to be the hero she wished to be. She was a hero, always had been; she was supposed to get a happy ending!

Stop. STOP! Think about Bae. Bae needs me. I have to keep him safe. I can’t get arrested. I can’t jeopardize my rapport with Emma. Bae is worried; he knows something is wrong. Focus.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Bae asked as they were closing up the shop that night. Rumplestiltskin had spent a long moment staring at the safe, debating whether to open it and bring the cup home. He wanted it with him, but he knew he had to drag his thoughts away from Belle and back to Bae.

“I’m… I’ll be fine,” he said with another awkward smile. He left the cup behind, trying very hard not to think of it as a betrayal.

XxXxXxX

“Stop,” Mr. Dove said. It was, to Bae’s recollection, the only time Mr. Dove had spoken to him without Bae speaking to him first.

Bae glanced back at him, and saw that he was staring at the house. Following his gaze, Bae realized the front door was slightly open. “Someone’s in our house?”

Mr. Dove pulled out his phone. “There’s been a break in… yes… very good, Mr. Gold.”

“Should I call the Sheriff?” Bae asked.

“Mr. Gold will.”

“OK.”

They waited. Emma arrived first, in her yellow car. “Hello, Emma.”

“Hey, kid, Dove. Can I assume you haven’t gone in?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Stay here; I’m going to take a look.”

“OK.”

Papa arrived while Emma was still inside. “Bae! Are you all right?”

Bae blinked. “I’m fine, Papa. We didn’t even go inside.”

Papa let out a relieved breath. “Good, good. I take it Sheriff Swan is inside now?”

Bae nodded. “Mhm.”

They waited for a while more, until Emma came back out the front and waved to them. Papa walked towards her, and Bae and Mr. Dove followed. “Yeah, you definitely got robbed,” Emma said once they were close enough to hear. “Can you take a look around, let me know what’s missing?”

“Of course,” Papa said.

“Seems like they were looking something specific, but I don’t know what. Looks like they went through the display cabinets first and then moved to the office and bedrooms. Any ideas what they were looking for?”

“The only items I can think of are not actually in the house.” He sounded relieved.

“Well, that’s good. Any ideas on who might have done it?”

“Oh, yes. I’m quite certain it was Moe French, the town florist. He defaulted on a loan, and I had Mr. Dove repossess his collateral yesterday. He was not best pleased.”

“What was the collateral?”

“His delivery van.”

“Ouch. So he wasn’t stealing that back. What do you think he was after?”

“Valuables, perhaps? I really couldn’t say.”

“Those items you mentioned earlier?”

“He wouldn’t know about them.”

“Anyone in town who might?”

Papa gave her a sharp smile. “I’ll give you three guesses.”

“Regina,” Emma sighed.

“Right in one.”

“What are they?”

“Items of extreme personal value. I’d rather not discuss them.”

“Fine, keep your secrets for now. If it was Moe, it doesn’t matter anyway. If it wasn’t, I’ll have to come back to that.”

“Hm.”

“And don’t touch the kitchen doors; I think he went out that way. I have a fingerprinting kit in my car; I want to dust for prints before I leave.”

Papa sighed. “Very well.” Papa turned to Bae. “Are you all right taking the inventory of your room, or would you like me to do it?”

“I can do it. I don’t think there’s anything in there worth stealing except my allowance money, anyway.” Bae had tried to refuse the allowance at first, but Papa insisted it wasn’t a gift; it supposed to teach him how to manage money responsibly. So far, Bae’s approach to money management had been to stash it in a shoebox in the back of his closet. When Bae checked, it was still there. Nothing else appeared to have been taken either, but the drawers had been rifled through. Bae shivered. Not even his father went into his room without permission; it creeped him out that a stranger had.

Bae found Papa in his office. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” Papa replied. “Did he… take anything of yours?”

Bae shook his head. “No. He went though the drawers, though.”

Papa narrowed his eyes, and Bae could see that terrifying anger building up in his expression. “It’s fine,” Bae said.

“It’s not ‘fine’; he went through your things. Are you sure he didn’t take anything?”

Bae shifted nervously. “I’m pretty sure.”

Papa looked like he was about to say something angry, then sighed. “Very well.”

“Emma’s going to take care of this,” Bae was compelled to say.

“Yes,” Papa replied, not looking happy about it. “I will be pursuing this to the fullest extent of the law.”

Bae let out a nervous breath. “OK, good. Can I help with anything else?”

“No,” Papa replied sourly.

“Oh.”

Papa looked up, guilty. “Bae… on second thought, you can take a look at the rooms upstairs and let me know which ones he ransacked. If you like.”

“OK, I’ll do that. Are Emma and Mr. Dove still here?”

“Yes, although I believe Emma is nearly done with the fingerprints. Mr. Dove will be staying until Mr. French is apprehended.”

“OK. I’ll be right back!”

“Thank you, Bae.”

XxXxXxX

Rumplestiltskin was now immeasurably grateful that he’d left the cup at the shop. He knew he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from going after Maurice if the man had taken it.

And that would have been disastrous. Clearly, Regina had told Maurice about the cup (and possibly the dagger, although Rumplestiltskin dearly hoped that she herself was still unaware of it), and told him to look for it specifically. She was hoping to get a reaction out of him, to verify if he was awake or possibly even get a hold of Bae if Rumplestiltskin was foolish enough to get himself arrested. Rumplestiltskin could not let that happen; Bae was everything.

So he would hold his temper. He would cooperate with Emma, grease Spencer and Herman however he had to, and let the ‘justice system’ take care of Moe. Belle deserved better, but it was the best Rumplestiltskin could do when he had Bae to think of. Belle would have understood. Would probably have been happy about it, in fact; she hadn’t liked the Dark One’s pursuit of vengeance any more than Bae had. They would have loved each other; it just wasn’t fair.

Had Maurice been kinder - had Rumplestiltskin not been such a coward - they could have been a family, the three of them. Bae could have had a real mother. Belle would have… Stop. Stop dwelling on it. She’s gone. He’ll never get to meet her. No magic can bring back the dead.

Rumplestiltskin threw himself into cataloguing the missing items. He would see to it that Moe was held accountable for every dusty knick-knack, every worthless trinket. They didn’t matter in the least bit to Rumplestiltskin, but dollar amounts did matter when it came to pressing charges. Rumplestiltskin sincerely hoped that Moe had at least had the decency to steal valuable pieces.

When Bae came back downstairs to tell Rumplestiltskin which rooms had been rifled through, he thanked his boy then told him to fix himself some lunch. “Do you want anything?” Bae asked.

“No, thank you, Bae.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, Bae.”

The boy sighed. “Should I ask Emma and Mr. Dove if they want anything?”

Rumplestiltskin tried to smile. “Emma has gone after Mr. French, but feel free to ask Mr. Dove, although he will likely decline as well.”

“OK.”

Some time later, Rumplestiltskin’s cellphone rang. “What did you find, Sherriff Swan?”

“You were right, Gold; I found Moe at his house, along with the stolen goods. Let me know when you finish that inventory, so I can verify that everything’s here.”

“Very good. I trust you have him in custody?”

“Oh yeah. He confessed everything, and didn’t even put up a fuss when I put the cuffs on. My next call is to the DA.”

“Very good, Sheriff Swan, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And keep an eye on Bae; this kind of thing can be scary for a kid.”

“I’m aware, Sheriff Swan. Rest assured, Bae is always my first priority.”

“Good. Call me when you have that list.”

“I will. Goodbye, Emma.”

“Bye, Gold.”

Well, there was that, at least. With a confession, conviction was that much more assured. Unless, of course, Spencer got it in his head to offer a plea bargain. Rumplestiltskin would give Emma just time enough to make her call, and then he would call the DA himself, just to make sure that there would be no sentence reduction on offer. He’d be calling Herman too; he did not want Moe out on bail. Rumplestiltskin knew that if he ran into the man on the street, the encounter would end with his cane coming down on Moe’s skull. No, better that he be locked away, even if it wasn’t a fraction of what the man deserved.

Maybe I’ll even be able to sleep tonight, knowing he’s behind bars.

Unlikely.

XxXxXxX

Indeed. Midnight saw Rumplestiltskin climbing into his Cadillac and speeding to the shop to retrieve the cup. He hated leaving Bae alone in the house, but he needed to know the cup was safe.

It was.

He was back by 12:20, Bae still asleep upstairs. He went through all the motions; shutting out the lights, brushing his teeth, changing into silk pajamas - only to spend the night alone in his room, in the dark, weeping over the cup.

An empty heart. She was right.

Bae should be enough. Why isn’t he enough?

Well, nobody ever said Rumplestiltskin wasn’t a greedy son-of-a-bitch.

Chapter Text

Rumplestiltskin could see that Bae was reluctant to leave for his run, which was always a cause for concern. Rumplestiltskin knew that he’d been distant and distracted since the break-in (since his conversation with Moe, in fact) and that Bae was concerned about him, but this was worrying. And Rumplestiltskin had no idea what to say to him.

“I… I’ll be back, Papa.”

“I know. Have fun, Bae.”

“You’ll be all right?”

“I’ll be fine, Bae.”

“Oh… OK, then. Bye.”

Rumplestiltskin dragged up a smile for him. “Go on, Son.”

Frowning, Bae waved and left. Dove followed him with a nod.

Rumplestiltskin sighed. He needed to get a hold of himself. He’d spoken to both Spencer and Herman, and they’d assured him they would not be going easy on Moe. Rumplestiltskin would have liked something a bit more concrete, but he couldn’t actually compel them to do anything without resorting to something illegal, a move he expected Regina was watching for.

That suspicion was confirmed when Regina entered his shop.

“Good morning, Mr. Gold. How are you?” she asked with a knowing smile.

“Well enough, Regina.”

“I heard about the robbery; was everything recovered?”

“Indeed. Can I help you with anything?”

“I just wanted to see how you were doing; it must be unsettling, having your home invaded. Is Baeden all right?”

It was a question and threat in one, and oh, how Rumplestiltskin wished he could simply end her right there. This was all her doing, he knew; she had told Moe about the cup, and if he hadn’t moved it to the shop, she’d have it right now. She was looking for leverage on him, and if she didn’t find anything else, sooner or later she’d take the risk and go after Bae.

“Sheriff Swan asked the same thing,” he said pointedly, “He’s fine.”

“You’re certain? Is he here?”

He knew what she was doing. Knowing that did not stop it from working. “He’s out getting some exercise. Mr. Dove is with him.”

“I’m surprised you let him go out today. If it had been me, I don’t think I’d let Henry out of my sight.”

“The fresh air does him good. And we weren’t even home during the robbery; it’s not as if he fell down a mineshaft.”

That one hit the mark; Regina narrowed her eyes. “I suppose so. And Mr. French?”

“What about him?” Rumplestiltskin asked as mildly as he was able.

“Are you pleased that he has been apprehended?”

“Oh, yes. Sheriff Swan has proven more than capable in this matter.”

Regina’s eyelid twitched; another hit. “And you’ll be pressing charges?”

“Certainly; I have already given my statement. Sheriff Swan has spoken to Spencer and Herman, and they have all graciously offered to keep me informed. You should be proud of your civil servants, Mayor Mills, they handled this matter to my utmost satisfaction.”

“That’s kind of you to say, Mr. Gold, and I must say the city appreciates your cooperation. Frankly, I was a bit concerned you might try to handle this matter more… personally.”

“Oh? Did you fear I lacked faith in your justice system, Madam Mayor? I can’t imagine why you would think that.”

“Well, even in the most idyllic circumstances, the wheels of justice do turn slowly. You’re not exactly known for you patience, Mr. Gold.”

Rumplestiltskin laughed. “Oh, I think you’ll find I’m incredibly patient, Mayor Mills.”

She smiled tightly. “I’m beginning to see that. Well, I won’t take up any more of your time, then. Good day, Mr. Gold; tell Baeden I said ‘hi’.”

“Likewise to Henry,” he reminded her.

She left. Rumplestiltskin immediately called Dove. “Mr. Dove? Mayor Mills was just here; do not let Bae out of your sight.”

“Of course, Mr. Gold.”

XxXxXxX

Emma was not going to enjoy this call. “Gold?”

“Emma, what can I do for you?”

“Um, this is just a heads up; Moe French just posted bail. He’s out until the trial.” There was a long pause. “Gold? You still there?”

“Yes. I don’t suppose you know where the money came from?”

“One of his employees brought it by; I have no idea where he got it. Maybe they took up a collection?”

“Perhaps.” His tone was flat.

“You think there’s more to it.”

“Oh, yes. Regina came by yesterday asking pointed questions and making her usual vague threats. I think if you were to trace that money back to its source, you would end up the Mayor’s office.”

“Sure she wasn’t just using this as an excuse to mess with you?”

“Quite sure, although I can offer you no proof. Just keep an eye on her, Sheriff Swan.”

“I always do. And I’ll be watching Moe too. If he tries anything else on your end, you give me a call, OK?” Emma hadn’t really been able to get a read on Moe. Sometimes he seemed to be a basically decent guy who got in over his head and panicked, but every now and then he really seemed to carry a grudge against Gold and, for some reason, her. She thought she had overheard the large man mumbling something she really did not want to contemplate about her and Gold, but she couldn’t swear to it, and most of the time he seemed a model prisoner. It was suspicious as hell.

“Oh, I will, Sheriff Swan.”

“OK. I’ll let you get back to what you were doing. Say ‘hi’ to Bae for me.”

“Likewise to Henry.”

“Bye, Gold.”

“Goodbye, Emma.”

Well, that wasn’t so bad.

Famous last words.

XxXxXxX

“What happened?” Bae asked after Papa had hung up.

“Moe French posted bail. That means he is free until the trial. I’m certain I don’t have to tell you to stay away from him. And Emma says ‘hi’,” he added with a weak smile.

Bae nodded. “And you think he’s working for Regina.”

Papa sighed. “Yes, although how aware he is of that fact I could not say.”

“What do you think she’s trying to do?”

“Distract me. I’ve proved an impediment in her campaign against Miss Swan; I believe she is trying to remove me from play.”

“But you’re not going to let her.” Bae wasn’t sure if he was telling or asking.

In either case, Papa smiled. “No, Bae, I am not.”

XxXxXxX

It was not in Rumplestiltskin’s nature to be proud of himself. He knew what he was, and very little of it was deserving of praise. However, he felt he deserved some sort of recognition for the restraint he was showing with Moe. He did not approach the man; had even suggested renting a movie that night so that their path home would not take them near Game of Thorns. He didn’t even ask Dove to follow the man; he wouldn’t put it past Regina to suggest that Moe press stalking charges if he did.

No, he took Bae home, and they had made dinner and watched Star Wars. He had even laughed when Bae jokingly compared Emma to Luke Skywalker and Rumplestiltskin himself to Obi-Wan Kenobi. He had, however, taken issue with the comparison between Regina and Darth Vader.

“Oh, no, Bae; Regina is the Emperor.”

“Who’s Darth Vader, then?”

“Well, the obvious choice would be Sydney Glass, but he’s not enough of a…”

“Badass?”

Rumplestiltskin had chuckled. “Not the word I would have chosen, but yes.”

He’d taken the higher road (for his own reasons, of course, but the higher road nonetheless) and it had earned him a pleasant evening with Bae, another sleepless night with his wheel and Belle’s cup, and Emma in his shop the next day with an apology and an arrest warrant.

“You remember our deal concerning Miss Boyd, Sheriff Swan?”

“Of course, but what do you want me to do? If I refuse to arrest you, Regina will have me fired, and then she’ll just get someone else to do it.”

He sighed. At least she thought it through. “Can you at least tell me what evidence Regina’s cooked up against me?”

“It’s just Moe’s word at this point. He says it was you and Dove. There aren’t any other witnesses-”

“Yet. Regina can threaten or bribe two was well as one.”

Emma huffed. “Right. There’s no fingerprints or video footage, of course. Look, I know you didn’t do this. Moe is the worst liar I’ve ever seen, but he’s terrified of whoever actually did it. They put him in the hospital, Gold, and he’s afraid they’ll do worse; he won’t roll on them.” Personally, Rumplestiltskin did not have a problem with anyone ‘doing worse’ to Moe French.

She continued. “This whole thing sucks. Look, you don’t have an alibi, do you? Bae?”

“Was asleep at 2AM last night.”

“Of course,” she sighed. “What do you want me to do?” It was an honest offer, he realized. If he told her to walk away, she’d do it. But she was correct; that would only make the situation worse.

“I want you to call your roommate.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I know what Regina is trying to do; she wants me in custody so she can go after Bae. We have no other family, and she’s been very careful to implicate Dove in this as well. Who is left to look after Bae?”

Emma growled. “She wants him in the system.”

“Perhaps. Although, if I had to guess, I’d wager she is actually intending to take him herself. She’d be in the best possible position to hurt him if I defied her and she could pump him for information at the same time. I have secrets, and Regina knows it. But she has no standing to intervene if I’ve already arranged adequate care. Miss Blanchard is experienced with children, has an excellent reputation, and Bae already knows her; if I hire her to watch Bae, Regina can’t challenge that. Call her. Once she agrees to look after him, I will surrender to you.”

Emma pulled out her phone. “OK, but even if I can get through to her, she can’t leave the school before 3:30.”

“Bae will be safe enough at the Sheriff’s station until then.”

“What do you want me to tell her?”

“Whatever you have to.” Rumplestiltskin pulled out a pen and legal pad and began to write, all the while listening to Emma’s side of the conversation. The difficult part, it seemed, was getting the school’s main secretary to forward the call. After that was dealt with, Mary Margaret proved willing enough to help, agreeing to cancel her previous plans (with David Nolan, no doubt) and only asking if she should take Bae back to her loft or accompany him back to their home.

“Tell her she will be staying with Bae at our home; we have room enough.”

“No kidding.” Emma relayed the message. “She says she’ll need a little extra time to pack an overnight bag.”

“Fair enough.”

“That’s fine, Mary Margaret.” The call ended shortly after that, and Emma asked what he was writing.

“Instructions for Mary Margaret. Bae’s school assignments and the like.”

Emma looked offended. “You’re not going to cut the kid some slack while his father’s in jail?”

Rumplestiltskin gave her a piercing look. “Will Regina? She has already questioned whether I am providing him adequate education; she would love the excuse to intervene. And routine is important for children. Bae also has a number of food sensitivities.”

“Oh. You, ah, think of everything, don’t you?”

“If only it were so.”

“Hm.” He glanced up. Emma looked somewhat overwhelmed, and Rumplestiltskin wondered if she was questioning her own ability to provide for Henry. Worry not, Emma, you can’t do worse than Regina. That, of course, led to his next thought: Regina is going to pay for this.

XxXxXxX

When they got back to the shop, Bae could tell something was wrong. Emma was there, shifting from foot to foot, and Papa gripped his cane the way he did when he was nervous. “Bae, I need to speak to you in the back while Sheriff Swan has a word with Mr. Dove.”

“I… OK.” Papa waved him forward, trying to smile, but he was obviously unhappy. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing that can’t be dealt with, but Regina has decided to stir up a bit of trouble. Come along, I’ll explain everything.”

Papa took them all the way to the very back of the shop and gestured to the cot, pulling over a chair for himself. “What’s happened?” Bae asked, sitting hesitantly.

“Last night Moe French was assaulted. He has named Mr. Dove and me as the perpetrators-”

“You didn’t do it!” It was more of a question than Bae wished it were.

“Of course not. And the charges will not hold up; in fact, I’d be surprised if Mr. Spencer even presses charges at all, but Regina is insisting that we be arrested, and Emma is in no position to refuse. I want you to listen very carefully, Bae; Miss Blanchard is going to take you home tonight and look after you until I am released. I need you to do as she says and under no circumstances speak with Mayor Mills, Sydney Glass, or anyone you do not know. If they try to speak with you, tell them that I told you not to speak to them and then walk away. Do you understand?”

“Why is Mr. French saying you did this?”

“Because Regina wants him to. I believe she is trying to get access to you, in order to manipulate me and get information about me from you; that is why it is important that you don’t speak to her or anyone who could be working for her.”

“Why is she doing this? What did you ever do to her?”

Papa frowned. “Enough to justify a grudge, but not involving you in it, which is what she is trying to do. I need you to do as I say and stay safe, Bae, all right? Can you do that?”

Bae frowned and nodded. He knew Papa wasn’t always a good person, but this wasn’t right. And if Regina would go this far, how much further would she go? Papa had told Bae that he would never let anyone hurt him, but if Regina could do this, what else could she do? Numbly, Bae nodded. “I understand.”

Papa gave him a sad smile and pulled him into a hug. “Don’t worry, Bae. I will take care of this; everything will be fine.”

“OK, Papa.”

XxXxXxX

Mary Margaret couldn’t believe that Mr. Gold and Mr. Dove had assaulted Moe French. Oh, she knew Mr. Gold’s reputation, and for years she’d been terrified of the man (still was, truthfully) but Bae was such a sweet boy, and Emma was right; Mr. Gold really did love his son.

Emma had pointed it out the night of the debate, and it had been as plain as anything; Mr. Gold looked at Bae like the boy was his whole world. He wouldn’t risk being separated from him by doing something illegal, even if he were capable of such a thing, which Mary Margaret was starting to question. After all, she never would have guessed that he had a son or that he could love him so deeply; maybe she completely misjudged the sort of man he was?

When she finally got to the police station, she found Emma and Regina facing off, Henry looking forlornly on, Bae giving Regina a look of frightened resentment, and Mr. Dove and Mr. Gold, well… looking like that, she could believe they were capable of what they were accused of. At least, she could if it had been Regina instead of Mr. French.

“Mary Margaret!” Henry greeted desperately, as if she, of all people, could fix the situation.

“Hello, Henry. Hello, Bae.” I braver person would have asked what was going on or stepped between Regina and Emma, but Mary Margaret was not a braver person.

“Miss Blanchard,” Regina sneered, and Mary Margaret backed up a step.

Emma and Bae both gave the Mayor a nasty glare for that, and Bae walked over to Mary Margaret, gripping the straps of his tattered backpack tightly. “Let’s go,” he said quietly.

“Not so fast,” Regina said imperiously. “There seems to be a bit of confusion regarding Baeden’s care-”

“No, there isn’t,” Emma snapped, “Gold hired Mary Margaret. She’s perfectly qualified and is a friend of theirs. It’s done. Go on.” Emma jerked her head towards the door.

“Um.”

“Come on,” Bae said again, pulling gently at her arm.

“Miss Blanchard-” Regina began, her tone threatening.

“Mom, please,” Henry pleaded. “Let them go.”

“Henry, stay out of this.”

“Listen to your boy, Regina,” Mr. Gold growled, “Or the lawsuit I will bring against the city, the Mayor’s Office, and you personally will only be the beginning of the trouble you can expect from me. Let. Them. Go.”

Emma gestured again, and Mary Margaret let Bae tug her towards the door. Regina was fuming, but did not try to stop them again. Once they were out of the street, Bae snarled, “Bitch!” Mary Margaret was taken aback by his language, but she wasn’t blind; the poor boy was shaking like a leaf and there was as much fear as anger in his expression. But he still had the presence of mind to apologize, “Sorry. I- I just…”

“I understand. This is a very upsetting thing to happen, but your father and Mr. Dove going to be just fine, and I’m going to take really good care of you.”

“You don’t know that. She got them arrested; what else can she do?”

“Your father is a very powerful man; I’m sure that between him and Emma this whole thing will get cleared up soon. You just need to have a little faith.”

Bae had a laugh more jaded than any child should. “Faith? How can I have faith when stuff keeps happening?”

“But just think of how much you’ve overcome! You found your father, and you’re really starting to connect. That’s not easy after a long separation.” Mary Margaret was resolutely not thinking about David and Kathryn when she said that.

“But Regina…”

“Doesn’t always get what she wants; just look at the election! Now, what was that about up there?”

“She was trying to take me home with her. Papa thinks that’s why she had him arrested.”

Mary Margaret’s jaw dropped, but experienced teacher that she was, she rallied quickly, “And see? That didn’t work either. She’s not going to take you away; Emma and your Dad are not going to let that happen.”

“I… I…”

Carefully, Mary Margaret placed a comforting hand on Baeden’s arm. “It’s going to be all right, Bae, you’ll see. Now, let’s get you home, OK?”

“I… OK.” After a brief pause, he added, “Thank you.”

“It’s no trouble; that’s what I’m here for.”

Bae started walking, and Mary Margaret followed, realizing she had no idea where Mr. Gold’s house was. She was rather curious as to what it might be like. Once they reached it she decided that, other than the color, it was actually pretty much exactly like she would have guessed based on Mr. Gold’s shop and wardrobe. Maybe the color is for historical accuracy?

Bae let them in with a key attached to what looked like a piece of galvanized pipe. Mary Margaret thought it a little odd considering how everything Mr. Gold owned was expensive and beautiful, but then Bae’s backpack had also clearly seen better days. She was sure Mr. Gold would have replaced it with something nicer if Bae had asked, so it had to be the boy’s preference. Well, he wouldn’t be the first child of rich parents to reject the trappings of wealth, and perhaps it had sentimental value? David had said that Baeden had said that Mr. Gold was very patient with him; if he was attached to his tattered backpack - or his odd keyring - Mary Margaret was sure Mr. Gold would not push him to part with it.

And Mary Margaret was starting to wonder if Mr. Gold was a sentimentalist as well -who’d have thought? Bae gave her a brief tour of the house, and there were pictures of Bae (although none of Mr. Gold) in several rooms. There was also a piece of Baeden’s artwork proudly displayed on the fridge. “Oh, this is wonderful; I know this story! The Necklace, right?”

Bae blushed. “Thank you. I have to do storyboards for each of the stories in my anthology; Papa likes to hang them up.”

“What a great idea! And I bet it’s a lot more fun for you than a traditional book report.”

Bae frowned. “Yes. Although I have to do some of those too.”

Mary Margaret smiled. “Variety is good, though; I find it helps my students a lot.”

Bae nodded. “Papa wrote down a list I’m supposed to give you.” He reached in this pocket and gave her several neatly folded pages from a legal pad covered in sharp, precise handwriting.

“Thank you; this is very helpful.” Well, he certainly is… thorough. “OK, I’m supposed to check your algebra problems, your storyboard for The Musgrave Ritual, and your science report.”

Bae shuffled his feet. “I haven’t finished everything yet.”

Mary Margaret smiled. “That’s OK; there’s plenty of time. What do you have left to do?”

“Algebra. And I have to type up the report.”

“OK, do you need help, or do you want me to leave you alone to work?”

Bae shook his head. “I don’t need help.”

“All right. And would you like to go out for dinner, or stay in? Your Dad said either is fine.”

Bae shook his head again, subdued. “I don’t want to go out.”

“All right. Why don’t set up your work in the dining room, and I’ll see what’s in the kitchen? That way I’ll be right there if you need some help, OK?”

“OK.”

His quiet resignation reminded her so much of Henry that Mary Margaret’s heart broke a little. Just hang in there, Bae; things will get better.

XxXxXxX

Damn him!

Regina was fuming. No matter what she did, she couldn’t pin Gold down. During the election she’d started to suspect that the Dark One actually had woken up, and between his refusing to help her with that land deal and his jumping to help Miss Swann at every opportunity, she was truly starting to wonder. She’d been trying to think of a way to force the issue, and then Gold had had his goon repossess French’s van. It had been a perfect opportunity, but then French wasn’t able to find the cup, and Gold hadn’t lashed out at the man like she would have expected if he remembered who they both were.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t awake; the fact that the cup had been moved might indicate that he was. Or perhaps he’d just moved it while cleaning up that dust trap after the kid had moved in; according to French and Sydney, the interior of the house was now clean and organized (a shame, as she might have been able to argue it was an unfit living arrangement if all the common areas were still packed with old junk). Could he have thrown it out? Now, that would be amusing, if Rumple’s cursed self had tossed out his maid’s precious teacup.

But the fact was, Regina still had no idea if Rumple was awake or not, and she’d never be able to break up Gold’s alliance with Emma until she knew exactly who she was dealing with. At the end of her rope, she’d been counting on the boy knowing enough details to settle the question, but Gold had anticipated her move and shuffled him off with Snow White of all people!

And now Spencer was making noises about not wanting to press charges. Had it been anyone other than Gold, she knew, he’d have had no problem at all throwing the book at them on her word, but as with everyone else in this blasted town, he feared Gold more than he hated him, and more than he feared or respected Regina. And it didn’t help that the Sheriff was babbling on about French’s testimony being suspect.

There was one thing that Regina knew would truly answer the question of whether Rumplestiltskin was awake or not, but with Miss Swan sniffing around, she couldn’t even use her trump card without raising questions of where the Rumple’s little maid had been all this time and how she’d gotten there.

And then there was Henry. Regina didn’t doubt that Gold would go after Henry if he felt provoked enough, and if Rumple learned that she’d kept his maid locked up for thirty years and then lied to him about it, he’d tear Henry apart. Henry spoke about the Dark One like he might actually be capable of decency, but her boy had no idea what that imp was really like.

No, Regina needed answers and she needed them fast, but how?

She had no choice; she had to double down. She called Sydney.

Chapter Text

Mary Margaret, it turned out, was not the cook Papa was, but she was certainly better at it than Bae. She’d complimented their well-stocked kitchen and put together a simple meal of chicken and vegetables. She also made hot chocolate, asking if he wanted cinnamon in his. He said yes, but after a sip decided he would say no next time. It was drinkable, but not to his taste. He wondered if his father would like it. As a general rule, anything with chocolate in it was fine with Papa.

Bae missed him. It was silly to miss him so badly so soon, but he was scared. How long would this last? What else might Regina do? They’d been separated for so long; what if that happened again?

Dinner was quiet. Bae didn’t want to talk, and Mary Margaret seemed to figure that out pretty quickly. She only asked about his math problems (they were done), his science report (it was not), and what movie he would like to see when he had finished all his work.

“Have you seen Iron Man?” Bae asked.

Mary Margaret shook her head. “No, but I know that several of my students love it. Is that what you would like to watch?”

Bae nodded. “If that’s OK.”

Mary Margaret smiled. “Of course it is! When you’re done eating, why don’t you finish up your report while I clean up and then check your algebra?”

“I should help you clean up.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

Why do adults always say that? Bae wasn’t a child; he didn’t need people to do things for him all the time. “I want to help,” he insisted.

Fortunately, she seemed to get it. She smiled, “OK, then. Thank you.”

Bae nodded but didn’t smile. “You’re welcome.”

XxXxXxX

Rumplestiltskin missed his boy so badly he was physically sick with it. Watching him walk away with Snow White seared him down to his battered, blackened soul even if it was exactly what needed to happen. This is what you have to look forward to when the curse breaks. He’ll be looking at you like he was looking at Regina.

Regina. He could rip her throat out. She was trying to take his boy from him - no one, no one, got away with that.

Had they been alone, he was sure he would have heard a great deal from her after Snow and Bae walked out, but as it was, her glare had bounced from him to Emma to Dove, and she’d simply said, “I will be remembering this insubordination in the future, Miss Swan.”

“And I’ll be remembering you trying to kidnap Gold’s kid,” Emma had snapped back.

She’d puffed up like an offended cat (Rumplestiltskin really did not care for cats) and hissed, “I don’t have time for your delusions, Sheriff Swan, and neither do you. I’m taking Henry home, and you have evidence to gather. Failure to perform your duties will get you terminated; remember that.”

Emma had narrowed her eyes accusingly. “Oh, I remember, Madam Mayor. Believe me, whatever evidence is out there; I will find it.”

“See that you do,” and she’d stormed out, Henry in tow. Henry had waved to Emma, and she had watched Regina drag him away with sadness and anger feuding in her expression. Rumplestiltskin could relate.

But she’d rallied, cursing Regina briefly then heading off to interview any of Moe’s neighbors that she hadn’t been able to reach yet. Rumplestiltskin had not counted on any of them having anything useful to say. When she returned later that evening with dinner for them from Granny’s (well, he supposed the law required her to feed them something, even if it was overpriced and full of grease), his prediction had proved true. Moe’s neighbors had either seen nothing or were unwilling to share whatever they might know.

Now, hours later, Dove (who’d remained mercifully silent since they’d arrived at the station) was asleep, sitting up with his legs stretched out on the cot and his face to the door. The cots in the cells were really too small even for Rumplestiltskin; he supposed that Dove would never have been able to find a comfortable position lying down.

Resigned, Rumplestiltskin lay down himself. He hoped Bae was sleeping. He hoped he didn’t have another nightmare. He knew Mary Margaret would do her best, but Bae was his. He should be there.

Rumplestiltskin didn’t think he would be able to sleep, but he’d already gone three nights with barely a couple of hours rest among them, and in this world he was as mortal as anyone else. Sometime around one - he’d been watching the clock and hoping Bae was all right - he drifted off.

XxXxXxX

August had not been sleeping well. It was part of turning back into wood, he supposed, although he’d always been something of a night owl; or, at least, he had been ever since he’d skipped out on foster care for the last time. He’d been fifteen then, angry and already consumed by guilt. He’d drowned both out as well as he could with travel and alcohol and sex, and after running so far for so long, he was exactly where he’d started; stuck in backwater Maine with no one who knew him and a task to complete that he had no idea how to accomplish. He’d read the Book (very, very carefully) and had ordered the supplies he would need to clean and rebind it, but he doubted the Book itself would be enough. What else could he do?

Emma would barely give him the time of day. He had that promise of a drink, but she was neck deep in some trouble with Rumplestiltskin and the town florist (Moe French - Maurice? Could he be the Beauty’s father? Walt had been an Author, after all, and some details seemed to be accurate even in the later movies), and by all accounts she barely had time to breathe. But at least August now knew that Blue had been right about Rumplestiltskin; kid or not, he was still a vicious bastard.

Last call at the Rabbit Hole had been an hour ago (August had the uncanny ability to zero in on the seediest bar in a ten mile radius, although the Rabbit Hole was actually barely even a dive, at least by his standards - no one threw a punch all night and it closed at one on a Friday, for God’s sake), and now August was walking around downtown, trying to think of anything that could possibly help Emma believe.

He stopped abruptly when he saw a bouncing light in Gold’s shop. He watched it for a moment to make sure, but there was definitely someone in there with a flashlight. Gold was in jail, and the lit sign out front meant the building had power; August was looking at a break in. Well, that’s one way to get Emma to talk to me.

August ducked into the shadow of the perpetually closed library (which was a damn shame; August liked libraries) and, keeping his eyes on Gold’s shop, pulled out his phone.

XxXxXxX

It took Emma fifteen minutes to throw on some clothes and get to the pawnshop. Mr. Mysterious Writer was waiting for her across the street, just like she’d told him to. She motioned for him to stay put and approached the front door, gun drawn. She couldn’t see the flashlight, but that didn’t mean the burglar was not still inside; he (or she) could be in the back room, or even on the floor behind the display cases.

Unlike the break-in at Gold’s house, the door was not left open, but it was unlocked. The bell jingled as she opened it, and even in the dim light from the street she could see that the place had been ransacked. Not by professional thieves, though, as she saw that the register had not been touched and the wall safe in the back was exposed but still closed. If she had to guess, she’d say that whatever the burglar was after was in that safe.

She heard a crash from the back room and leveled her gun, approaching cautiously. A door rattled and she heard pounding footsteps. She rushed into the back, spotting a back door wide open and still swinging. She ran into the parking area behind the shop, but saw no one. After a thorough sweep yielded nothing, she accepted that she wasn’t going to be chasing down the thief this way.

She pushed the back door closed with her foot and walked around the outside of the building to the front, hoping that her witness was still there. Fortunately, he was, his hands in his pockets, his blue eyes darting around as if looking for the thief.

“Hey,” Emma greeted, putting her gun away. “Thanks for calling that in; you were right. Someone was in there, but they ran when they heard me go in; I don’t suppose you saw anyone walking away from the building just now?”

He shook his head, “No, just you.”

“Are you willing to make an official statement?”

He smiled that annoyingly mysterious smile, and as she got closer, Emma realized that he’d been drinking. Great.

“Certainly. Can we do this someplace more comfortable? Like… the Sheriff’s station?”

She shook her head. “I’m kind of a one-woman show over here; can’t leave the crime scene unattended until I’ve had a chance to process it. But statements are time sensitive; I’d like to do that first if that’s OK.”

The writer nodded. “Fair enough. I assume you need my name?” he asked with another irritating smile.

“Usually a good place to start,” she agreed, pulling a pen and legal pad out of her jacket.

“August W. Booth.”

“Just W, or does that stand for something?” Emma probably should not be snarking at witnesses, but it was late, and this kind of guy always brought that out in her.

He smirked. “The W’s for Wayne.”

“OK, August W. Booth, what did you see? With as much detail as you can, please.”

“At approximately 2AM, so,” he glanced at the clock tower, “Thirty minutes ago, I was walking down the street and noticed a light moving around inside the pawn shop. The sign was on, so I knew the power wasn’t out, and I’d heard that the owner was, ah, indisposed this evening, so I guessed that someone was robbing the place. I retreated behind that wall there,” he pointed, “And called you. I watched the front of the shop, and didn’t see anyone go in or out.”

“Did you see anything unusual other than the light?”

“No.”

“And have you been drinking tonight?”

“Yes, but I’m not intoxicated. I had three beers and two shots of tequila over the course of four hours. My last drink was just before one.”

“And where was this?”

“The Rabbit Hole.”

“And you said you knew Gold was ‘indisposed’; what did you mean by that that?”

“I heard he got arrested for assault.”

“And where did you hear that?

“I was shooting pool with some locals; they seemed pretty excited by the concept of their landlord in jail. Granted, I’m sure it’s a common fantasy; I’ve had a few landlords I’d love to see in a cell.” Emma snorted; so had she.

“And when did you leave the Rabbit Hole?”

“Just after last call, so one.”

“And what were you doing between one and two?”

He shrugged. “Just walking around. Thinking.”

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Thinking?”

That damn smile again. “Thinking. It’s why I’m here, after all; cities can be… distracting.”

“You can say that again. Sometimes I can barely sleep here, it’s so quiet.”

“I don’t know, reminds me of when I was a kid.”

She looked up, “From a small town?”

“Oh, yes; smaller than this, even. I wouldn’t even call it a town, more of a village.” He actually looked a bit wistful at that. For the first time, Emma’s superpower was telling her that he was being genuinely honest with her.

“OK. I think that’s it for now. Do you have a number where I can reach you if I have more questions?”

“Sure.” He gave her his cell and his room number at Granny’s, although he did tell her wasn’t always there. “Writers, you know,” he shrugged, “We keep odd hours.”

“Apparently so, although Mr. Gold might appreciate it in this case. Well, thank you for your help, and be sure to call me if you think of anything else.”

“Oh, I will.” Really, Emma would love to wipe that damn smile off his face. It didn’t help that he was exactly the sort of man she usually went for; tall, dark, no strings attached. But there were secrets, she was sure, and with everything else on her plate, that was the last thing she needed.

Still smirking, August W. Booth sauntered off, looking for all the world like someone just out on a late night stroll, soaking up the quiet. She wasn’t fooled.

She rolled her eyes and turned back to Gold’s shop, realizing with a sigh that she’d never restocked the fingerprint kit in her car and camera was back at the Sheriff’s station as well; she would have to go back and hope she could get them without waking Dove or, especially, Gold. Emma still couldn’t say she liked the guy, but someone (Regina) definitely had it out for him, and waking him up in the middle of the night to tell him his shop had been trashed would just be adding insult to injury.

Although, she seriously doubted the timing was a coincidence. What better time to rob someone than when you knew they couldn’t possibly interrupt you? Gold was convinced that the frame-up was about his kid (and Regina’s tantrum that afternoon supported his theory) but what if it was also about what he had in that safe? There was something deeper here, and Emma was going to get to the bottom of it.

XxXxXxX

Rumplestiltskin blinked vaguely when he heard a swift clacking that his sleep-addled brain could not identify. The mystery was solved when Regina - in her designer pumps - slammed her hands into the door of his cell, startling him awake.

“You know,” she sneered, “They say only the guilty sleep in prison.”

“‘They’ are idiots,” he drawled, rallying quickly. “You should know by now that guilt and innocence are not nearly so easy to identify as that. What do you want, Regina?”

“Oh, just enjoying the view. I don’t suppose Miss Swan has informed you about last night’s break-in yet?”

His first thought was for Bae’s safety, and Rumplestiltskin almost jumped to his feet, ready to strangle answers out of Regina, but aside from the fact that his ankle was not quite up to the task, he was certain that was the reaction Regina was hoping for. Instead, he stood up carefully, right hand unobtrusively braced against the back of the cell, and stared her down. “No, I don’t suppose she has. Would you care to do the honors?”

She smiled. “I would be delighted, since Sheriff Swan can’t seem to be bothered. Last night, someone broke into your shop and emptied the safe. I do hope you didn’t have anything too valuable in there.”

Belle’s cup.

Bae’s shawl.

“Give them back,” he snarled, lunging at the bars. “I know this was you; give them back!”

She jumped back, but was wearing that triumphant smirk. “Give what back?”

“You know damn well what! Give them back!”

“What’s going on here?” It was Emma, carrying a box of doughnuts and three cups of coffee.

Rumplestiltskin nearly turned his ire on her, but the murderous expression on Regina’s face stopped him. She doesn’t want Emma here. Why? He let Regina respond to Emma’s inquiry. “How nice of you to join us, Sheriff Swan. I was just informing Mr. Gold about last night’s break-in.”

Emma narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “At six thirty in the morning? Did you just leave Henry home alone, or what?”

“Henry’s sleeping; he’s fine. You, however, have been remiss in your duties-”

“My ass. My regular shift starts at seven, and I dusted for prints and took photographs last night. How do you even know about the break-in?”

“Because she engineered it,” Rumplestiltskin hissed.

“Now, that’s a spurious accusation, Mr. Gold. I was informed about it by a concerned citizen.”

“Who?” Emma demanded.

“Someone who wishes to remain anonymous.”

Rumplestiltskin laughed. “I’ll bet they do. Now, about the return of my property-”

“Did she tell you what was stolen?” Emma blurted out, accusing eyes on Regina, “Because I wasn’t able to determine that; only the thief would know.”

Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes, “The contents of the safe-”

“Are still there.”

“What?”

“They weren’t able to get into the safe; whatever’s in there is fine. The rest of the place was trashed.” The cup? The shawl? Safe?

Rumplestiltskin turned his eyes back to Regina; she was shaking with barely suppressed anger and, he thought, no little fear. Good. “Is that so? Why, Regina, did you lie to me? That wasn’t very wise.”

She stuck out her chin stubbornly. “Of course not. It seems I was simply misinformed.”

“Uh huh. Which is why you made a special effort to get down here before me,” Emma accused dryly, hands on her hips.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Unlike some people, I like to get an early start to the day.”

Emma laughed. “Did you forget my kid lives with you? I know you are not a morning person, Regina.”

“He is not your kid.”

“Is he a liar?” Rumplestiltskin asked tauntingly. “Because issues of parentage aside, her point still stands.”

“Of course he’s not a liar, but he is a very confused little boy.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“How dare you-”

“Enough!” Emma barked. “Get out of here, Regina, and let me do my job. Henry’s cartoons start at seven; he’ll be wondering where you are.”

“You work for me, Sheriff Swan-”

“No,” Rumplestiltskin corrected, his voice low and dangerous, “She works for the citizens of Storybrooke. Go home to your boy, Regina. You wouldn’t want people to start asking questions about your fitness, would you? Neglect? Gaslighting?”

Her face drained of color. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“STOP!” Emma shouted. “YOU,” she turned on Regina, “Go home. And YOU,” she said to him, “Don’t you ever threaten to put my kid in the system-”

“Who said anything about the system?” he asked mildly. “I was assuming you’d want custody if Regina lost it; I apologize if that was incorrect.”

“You can’t do that-”

“STOP!” Emma shouted again. “Just, stop. Seriously, Regina, go home. I can’t deal with you right now.”

The look on Regina’s face would have caused any peasant in the Enchanted Forest to piss themselves out of sheer terror. Emma was singularly unimpressed, and watching the former Evil Queen flounder in the face of that self-assurance, Rumplestiltskin only wanted to laugh. Well, no, he also wanted to murder Regina, but neither would get him what he wanted, so he refrained from both. Eventually, flailing in her own impotence, Regina stormed out.

Emma turned on him. “OK, what the hell was that? I don’t care what she did, you do not use Henry for leverage, you got that?”

“Do you deny he would be better off with you?” Rumplestiltskin replied defensively. Frankly, he thought he’d shown incredible restraint so far, and true to his word, he had no intention of harming Henry or involving him in this any more than he already was.

“That’s not the point! You didn’t bring that up because you think he’d be better off with me, you said it to get to her. You said you wouldn’t involve him in this!”

“I won’t. I didn’t. You brought him up, if you will recall.”

“Because she left him home alone! I’m worried about him, not trying to score against her! Look, if you want me to keep helping you, you do not use my kid that way, got it?

“We have a deal-”

“That I won’t help her; not that I will help you.”

“Now who’s using children as leverage?”

“I’m not-”

“You are. Make no mistake, Miss Swan; Bae is the only reason I need your help. There is nothing Regina can do to me that I would not happily deal with on my own terms - except harm Bae.”

“So the break-in; that was about Bae too?”

“That, I’m fairly certain, was Regina’s reaction to not getting her hands on Bae yesterday; she’s fishing for a particular piece if information, and when she could not get it from him, she sought it elsewhere.”

“What information?”

Rumplestiltskin laughed, “Oh, Miss Swan, you would not believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“No.”

“No?” Emma huffed, “I thought you wanted my help?”

“Keeping this particular secret safe will help everyone - except Regina, of course. All you need to know is that all of this - the assault against Mr. French and the break-ins at my home and my shop - it all leads back to her.”

“Wait, what? Moe was the one who broke into your house.”

“At her suggestion, and looking for the items that are currently in the safe in my shop. I suspected as much before; now, I am certain.”

Emma sighed. “Exactly what is her beef with you, anyway?”

“At the moment? That I am helping you.”

“Oh, no - there’s more than that. You said yourself that you only started helping me because you were afraid she would go after your kid. You also said you had a history - what is it?”

Rumplestiltskin sighed. “Once again: you would not believe me if I told you.”

“Once again: try me.”

“I told you that Regina and I have both worked together and against one another in the past; that is all you need to know. The details of our history would take hours to relate, and frankly, I don’t think you have that kind of time.”

“Damn right I don’t,” she muttered. “OK, fine. But let me be clear; do NOT use Henry like that again.”

“Or what?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Or I waste my time yelling at you instead of dealing with Regina. You want an ally against Regina? I can’t work with people who try to use my kid as leverage.”

Rumplestiltskin blinked. She had a point; he certainly would not have responded well in her position. “I… understand, Miss Swan, and I apologize.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Agreement and an apology? OK… you can have coffee.”

Rumplestiltskin could have taken offense at that, but he was just too damn tired.

The doughnuts helped too.

XxXxXxX

He’s awake.

He has to be.

He changed the combination on the safe; he wouldn’t do that if he were not awake.

But he said “them” - what’s “them”? If he meant the cup he would have said “it”.

But the cup has to be in the safe - where else would it be?

Unless he threw it out.

He raged at me; Gold’s never done that.

Everyone has their limits.

DAMMIT! Why couldn’t Sydney have gotten into that safe!?

Regina had doubled down and lost. She didn’t have the boy. She didn’t have the cup. She didn’t know if Rumplestiltskin was awake. All she’d succeeded in doing was angering him enough to make a very specific threat against Henry.

A threat she was sure Miss Swan would be considering at length. Oh, she’d objected when he'd first said it, but soon enough she’d be thinking about what it really meant - custody of Henry for herself. It didn’t matter if he could actually do it or not - and Regina would not swear that he could not - that was an offer that sooner or later Miss Swan would not be able to refuse. He’d own her then, just like he planned, and there’d be no getting rid of either of them after that.

No, she could not let that happen. She needed something, anything, to keep Gold in check. But what was there, other than the boy? The boy he’d already turned into the Sheriff’s pet. The boy who’d shown up out of nowhere and…

Regina could kick herself - she’d overlooked the obvious! Instead of trying to get a reaction out of Gold over the cup (an object she knew was significant to Rumplestiltskin), she should have been tracking down the origin of the thing she already knew got a reaction out of him (the boy). Who was he in their land? Was he Rumplestiltskin’s son, or just a random peasant as she had assumed before? All she needed was a blood test; if the boy was biologically his, she was dealing with Rumplestiltskin. If not, she was dealing with Gold - and she would have leverage to take the boy away if Gold continued to step out of line.

But what if he was awake? What would she do then?

Well, she’d do what she’d always done - she’d make a deal with him. If he truly were awake, he was just the ally he needed: cunning, ruthless, and (as much as it pained her to admit it) unbeatable. Miss Swan would not stand a chance.

But what to do in the meantime?

He was angry; that was certain. She need to calm him down to buy herself some time; she couldn’t have him going after Henry before she had her answer.

She sighed. Irritated by the effort wasted on a failed plan, she sent Henry off to the arcade while she paid a visit to the hospital.

XxXxXxX

“You are not going to believe this,” Emma said, hanging up the phone.

“What?” Rumplestiltskin asked mildly. He was counting the minutes and trying to calculate the odds of Spencer actually charging them with anything. Between last night’s break-in and that little display with Regina, he had no idea what to expect. It was not a feeling he relished.

“Moe recanted.”

Rumplestiltskin sat up. “What?”

Emma was grinning. “Moe recanted. Give me a minute to call the DA, and I can have you both out of here by ten.” Spotting his wary expression, she asked, “What? Aren’t you glad? You get to go home to your kid.”

“This is too easy. If Moe has recanted, it is only because Regina wills it so.”

“So what? Maybe she figured out that her little scheme isn’t going to work, and decided to bail before we could tie it back to her.”

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. “You do not understand, Miss Swan; Regina does not yield. Ever. She does not conceded defeat. If she has abandoned this scheme, it is only because she has concocted another.”

“Then we’ll deal with that one too,” she said, resolute. My, she is shaping up to be quite the hero, isn’t she?

He smiled. “Indeed we will.”

XxXxXxX

Bae and Mary Margaret got to the Sheriff’s station just before ten. Emma had called Mary Margaret to let her know that Mr. French had recanted his testimony, and that she would be letting Papa and Mr. Dove go.

Emma was unlocking Mr. Dove’s cell as they walked in, and Papa smiled at them as he waited for her to unlock his. “Hey, kid,” Emma called, “Give me just a second and I’ll have your dad out of here.”

Bae nodded as he continued forward, his eyes growing tight. He hadn’t slept well the night before, worrying about what Regina might do, or what Papa being in jail for any length of time would mean for them.

Emma unlocked the door and handed Papa his cane. “Just a minute and I’ll have the rest of your stuff.”

Papa nodded, but seemed to pay little attention; his eyes were on Bae, crinkled with worry. “Bae, are you all-”

Bae threw his arms around Papa and held on, burying his face his father’s shoulder. He didn’t say a word.

“Oh, Bae,” Papa said, his free hand coming up to rub his back, “It’s all right, son; everything’s going to be fine.”

Stifling a sob, Bae was embarrassed to admit how scared he’d been, so instead he said, “I missed you.”

Papa held him closer. “I missed you too, Bae.”

Chapter Text

Rumplestiltskin would have preferred to have simply taken Bae home and forgotten about the rest of the world for the day, but there was still the break-in to deal with. Emma had requested the security tapes, and Rumplestiltskin had to check that the doors were secure and verify for himself that the cup and shawl were present and unharmed.

They were.

Bae, bless him, did not miss the significance of that. “Is that what they were after?” he asked quietly. He had not reacted well to the news about the break-in, and had been looking forlornly at the wreckage since they had walked in. In truth, very little was actually damaged, but the intruder (Sydney Glass, Rumplestiltskin was sure) had made a terrible mess during his mad search for the cup.

“I believe so, which is why you must never tell anyone I have it.”

“What’s so important about it?”

“It… it would be safer for you not to know. You see, it’s not the cup itself that is valuable, but the story behind it. Regina wants to know if I know that story. If she knew I had been protecting it as I have, she would have her answer.”

“It makes you sad.”

Rumplestiltskin’s eyes snapped up to meet Bae’s. “What?”

“The cup, the story behind it, it makes you sad.”

“Why do you say that?”

Bae sighed. “Because I’m not blind, Papa. How you reacted when I almost broke it, and now - this is why you were so angry at Mr. French, isn’t it? Because he tried to take it.”

“Bae, I…” Why do you have to be so perceptive? “I’m sorry, I will try to control myself better-”

“What are you talking about? You’re allowed to be sad! I just wish you would tell me things. You’ve been so… so upset, and I… I just want to help you.”

“Oh, Bae, I’m meant to look after you; it’s not your job to look after me-”

“Yes it is! You’re my family! Family looks out for one another!”

Rumplestiltskin put the cup down and rested his hands on Bae’s shoulders. Bae placed his own hands over Rumplestiltskin’s wrists, holding them there, brown eyes full of concern. For me. No one, not the spinsters, not Belle, had ever cared for him the way Baelfire had. Boys and their Papas. How could I have ever let him go? “Bae, I…”

“And don’t say I’m a child; I’m not a child.”

Rumplestiltskin smiled sadly. “Oh, Bae, you’ll always be my boy, even when you’re grown.”

“I’m almost grown now. Let me help you, Papa, please.”

“You do, Bae. Just having you with me - that’s all I need.”

Bae shook his head. “No, it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is. You are everything to me, Bae.”

“Then talk to me. Let me help you.”

“Bae, you don’t have to-”

“Yes, I do! Why can’t you understand that?”

Because no one helps me. Not even Belle - in trying to save me, she’d have cost me you. I care for others; they do not care for me. But Rumplestiltskin would break his other ankle before admitting that to his boy. “I… I’ll try, Bae.”

The disappointment in Bae’s face was like a dagger in his heart; Rumplestiltskin was so, so tired of failing his boy. But what was he supposed to do? To say? Unexpectedly, Bae pulled him into a hug and said, “I love you, Papa.”

Well, he knew what to say to that, at least. “I love you too, Bae.”

XxXxXxX

Regina couldn’t believe it. Gold had taken a paternity test two months ago, and she had never known! Two months that Rumplestiltskin had been busy hatching plans and forming alliances, and she’d been floundering. No wonder she could not drive Emma out of town - he wanted her to stay. He wanted her in a position of power. Why? What does he have to gain?

Well, the answer to that was fairly obvious. If the boy was really his - and the test said he was - Rumplestiltskin wanted to protect him from her. Regina, of course, remembered the one and only time she had ever heard Mr. Gold say ‘please’ - she was sure now that he had intended that to prevent her from using the curse to alter the boy’s memories, as she had done to David. And it had worked. Planting memories like that involved her wrapping the threads of the curse around a talisman of her choosing, and after some experimentation, she found she could not manipulate the threads linked to Baeden Gold.

Does he want the boy’s true memories to return? That was a good question. She imagined that he did not, because if he did she expected that he could have expanded whatever loophole he had used for himself to include his son. He was the Dark One, after all, and this was his curse as much as hers.

And truthfully, she wasn’t even sure she could return the boy’s memories herself without upsetting the delicate balance of the curse; she could have done it when the curse was first cast (as she did with the Hatter), possibly even before Miss Swan arrived, but not now. The threads were too tangled, her hold on them too tenuous.

So what could she offer him? She couldn’t offer ‘protection’; he’d take it as a threat, and she knew by now he would not respond well to that. What else? Non-interference? That wasn’t enough to buy his help. A favor? She already, foolishly, owed him one (and didn’t that exchange suddenly make perfect sense), and she was not eager to owe him another. She would if she had to, but that was a last resort.

He’d have bargained for the cup, she knew. He’d bargain for the maid - or he might simply make good on his threats and attack Henry. And either way, Miss Swan would be asking difficult questions. No, Regina couldn’t afford to play that card now; the girl was the last of her last resorts.

Dammit, the best she had to offer would not buy his help with anything, let alone Miss Swan. At most, she might be able to get him to stay out of her way as she moved to keep Snow White and her prince apart. But… perhaps that was all she needed? Her attempt to frame Gold, though unsuccessful, had given her an idea.

XxXxXxX

Monday at 11:05 saw Regina in Rumplestiltskin’s shop. His first inclination was just to throw her out, but he’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop, and if this were it, he would rather have it over and done with. Perhaps he could give Bae the focus he deserved, then.

“Regina, to what do I owe this displeasure?”

“I’ve seen the results of the paternity test. I know the boy is really yours.”

Rumplestiltskin chuckled. Well, that took her long enough. “Well, of course he is; did you think I would not know my own son?”

She smirked. “For a time. Tell me, Mr. Gold, how did you find him?”

He smirked back, “I’m not interested in telling you that.”

“No? How about how he became lost in the first place? If he was taken from you, there could be criminal charges to be investigated.”

“If you’d done your homework, Regina, you would know that his mother was ruled responsible for his disappearance.”

“And where is she?”

“As far as I know, dead.”

“How did she die?”

“That’s really none of your business. Did you need something, Regina, or are you just here to make a nuisance of yourself?”

She was still smirking; that was a bad sign. “As a matter fact, I do. I need your non-interference, Mr. Gold.”

Well, that’s interesting. “My non-interference in what, Mayor Mills?”

“I have learned that the husband of a friend of mine is having an affair. I mean to see that it is broken off.”

“And why would I interfere with something like that?”

“Because you have been getting rather friendly with the adulteress in question.”

Rumplestiltskin quirked an eyebrow. “Are you accusing Miss Swan of something, Mayor Mills?”

“Not her; her roommate. Miss Blanchard. I know you know what she has been doing with David Nolan.”

“I may have been aware of it.”

“Then you know that I have to put a stop to it.”

“I do? Why would that be?”

She narrowed her eyes. “She can’t be allowed to ruin any more lives.”

“Miss Blanchard? That meek little thing? I wasn’t aware she had ruined anyone’s life.”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“Can’t say that I do, Regina. Would you care to enlighten me?”

“Yes you do, Rumplestiltskin.”

He cocked his head tauntingly to the side, “Rumplestiltskin? Is that one of Henry’s ‘operations’? I know he has quite the penchant for fairy tales.”

She huffed. “Fine. Don’t admit it. Just stay out of my way. In exchange, I’ll stay out of yours.”

“Oh, you know I would never agree to something as vague as that, Regina - be specific.”

Pursing her lips - he was so enjoying her discomfort - she elaborated, “Don’t interfere with my plans for Miss Blanchard and Mr. Nolan, and I will not interfere with… whatever you have planned for your son.”

“I see.” Of course, seeing as keeping Snow and Charming apart was intended to prolong the curse, her plans for them automatically interfered with his plans for Bae; she would actually be breaking her end immediately upon making her move. Well, if she did that, he didn’t owe her a damn thing, did he?

“You understand what happens to people who break deals with me, don’t you, Regina?”

“I do.”

He smiled and extended his hand. “Then, the deal is struck.”

XxXxXxX

On Tuesday, August was finally able to pin Emma down again. She kept varying her lunch routines, so he’d simply decided to park himself at Granny’s every day from ten to three and hope for the best. Granny gave him some rather suspicious looks, but he spent most of the time writing notes and ideas in his journal (he did not imagine she would appreciate the typewriter - it was rather noisy), and she seemed to accept the whole ‘writer lost in thought’ thing. He also tipped well; that helped a lot.

A little before noon on Tuesday, Emma finally came in for lunch. She’d stopped for a minute outside to chat with Baelfire, which was good - if anyone can get that kid away from the Dark One, it’s Emma - and then trotted inside and sat at the counter.

He waited for her to order - making a show of gathering up his notes - and sauntered over to the counter to pay for his coffee and toast. “Hey.”

“Oh, hey,” she smiled. Well, that’s an improvement.

“Any news on the break-in? Do you need me to testify?”

She shook her head. “No luck. They wore gloves and a mask; must’ve known about the security cameras. Didn’t actually take anything either, so no luck tracking them down that way.”

“How’s Gold taking it? He’s got quite the, ah, reputation.”

“Oh, he’s not too worked up about it; would have been a different story if they’d actually made off with anything, but they didn’t. No, he’s more upset about the Moe French thing.”

“Didn’t he get away with that?”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “You know, for an out-of-towner you’re pretty interested in the local gossip. But you’ve got it wrong; there were no charges filed because he didn’t do it. Not too pleased Moe said he did, though.”

“Oh.” That was… unexpected. “You’re sure he didn’t do it?”

“Oh, yeah. Look, I know what people say about him, and I won’t say it’s not true, but he’s too smart and too dedicated to his kid to risk an assault conviction like that.”

“Oh. Any idea who did do it?”

She leaned back and smirked at him. “Why are you so interested? Not looking to fill the deputy position, are you?”

Oh, God. He almost laughed out loud; there were a great many professions August Booth was entirely unsuited for - law enforcement was definitely one of them. “No, no, it’s just… I don’t suppose the break-in was related? Maybe the same person did both? Someone who has it out for Gold?”

She gave him a piercing look. In grasping for a cover, could he have actually hit on something? “We’re looking into it.” We? That was ominous. Emma really should not be spending so much time with the Dark One.

Except, he does want the curse broken.

And ‘dedicated to his kid’? Hmm…

“I see. Well, you’ve got my number if you need it.” She nodded, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Mhm. See you around, August W. Booth.”

He smirked. “See you around, Sherriff Emma Swan.”

August wasn’t sure what to think, but his supplies had come in and he’d found a trailer in the woods that would serve as a makeshift workshop; it was time to get started on the Book.

XxXxXxX

“He’s trying; I know that,” Bae said.

“How do you know that?” Archie asked.

“He asks how I am. And… he tries to answer when I ask him.”

“Tries?”

“I think… it’s really hard for him. He thinks that because he is the parent and I’m the kid, it’s not my job to worry about him.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“Yes.”

“OK. And how do you feel about that?”

“It’s not fair. I’m fifteen; I’m old enough to help. And he doesn’t have anyone else; if I don’t look out for him, who will?”

“Can you understand why your Dad feels the way he does?”

“Of course. That’s how it usually is; the parents take care of the kids. But it’s different with us; I’m almost grown and he’s alone. He doesn’t… he’s not married. It makes sense for the parents to do all the taking care of if they can take care of each other, but he doesn’t have anyone like that; he doesn’t even really have friends.”

“I can see how that concerns you. Has he done anything specific that makes you worried for him?”

“He hasn’t been sleeping. And like I said; he tries to talk about it when I ask, but most of the time he really can’t. I think he’s scared.”

“What do you think he’s scared of?”

“I… don’t know.”

“OK. And how do you feel about that?”

“I wish… I don’t want him to be so scared all the time. I wish he trusted me. It… hurts that he doesn’t trust me.”

“Have you told him that?”

“Oh, no. That would just make him feel worse. He’s always apologizing all the time; like, he’s so worried about how I feel about everything, he doesn’t stop to think that him being upset is what is actually making me feel bad.”

“So you think he feels guilty?”

“Oh, yeah. I know he does; he told me.”

“So he does tell you some things?”

“Yeah, but it’s not enough! He’s still so sad all the time. Whatever the… whatever the break-in makes him think about; he can’t talk about it, but I know it hurt him, and I just… I want to help him, and he won’t let me!”

“I see. It can be very difficult when the people we care about need help and we cannot help them.”

“But I could, if he would just let me!”

“Have you told him that?”

“Yes; he just said I help just by being there.”

“Do you think that’s true?”

“I… yes? I think so? But it’s not enough; not with this.”

“Have you felt this way before? I understand that you have not been back with your Dad for very long, but have there been any other times when you felt like he needed help and you could not help him?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me when?”

“I… um. I can’t think of anything; not like this. But I know it’s true. Could this have happened before I lost my memory, do you think?”

“It could have. You’ve told me that this has happened before - that you have known things without actively remembering them.”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s quite possible.”

“Oh. OK.”

“However, I do caution you; even under ideal circumstances, memories are prone to inaccuracies. You have ‘known’ things that turned out to be true, but that does not mean that everything that will occur to you will be true.”

“I… oh. That makes sense.”

“It does? Most people, when told that their memories might be inaccurate, tend to deny it - have you had any false memories that you know of?”

“I… maybe? It’s more… I don’t know if I should tell you this.”

“Why not?”

“It’s crazy.”

“I generally find that ‘crazy’ is not a useful word - it’s a word we use when we want to dismiss something without examining it, and that can make problems worse. Do you think you can describe your concern a different way?”

“I… let me think.”

“Of course.”

“It’s… something very bad. I don’t think it can be really true, but I… I can’t stop worrying about it. Doesn’t that make me crazy?”

“Of course not; we worry about things all the time that we don’t think are likely or even possible. Did you know that I can’t watch horror movies for that reason? I know ghosts aren’t real, but even so, movies like that keep me up all night.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes. I saw Poltergeist years ago, and I still think of it every time I find an object in a location I did not expect. So I promise I won’t think you’re crazy. Can you tell me about it?”

“I… OK. Sometimes… sometimes I get really scared that… that Papa might hurt someone.”

“Hurt someone how?”

“I don’t know. Different ways.”

“Can you give me an example?”

“Well, um, one time Mrs. Lucas said she was afraid Papa would raise their rent because I, ah, noticed Ruby’s shorts. And I thought… I thought she was right.”

“Did he?”

“No. See? That’s how I know it’s crazy. I mean, if he was really going to do it, he’d have done it! Mr. French broke into our house! And the Mayor got Papa arrested and tried to take me away, and then someone else broke into the shop! He hasn’t done anything to them except help Emma press charges, and that’s what you’re supposed to do.”

“What did you think he would do?”

“I… don’t know.”

“Are you sure?”

“I… when…”

“Go on, Bae, you can tell me. I can’t help you with this unless you tell me.”

“When Papa told me that Mr. French was in the hospital, I thought… I thought he might have done it.”

“Where you surprised to learn he hadn’t?”

“Not surprised, but… relieved. Really, relieved.”

“That’s understandable.”

“But… why did I think that? He said… he said…”

“What did he say? Have you spoken to your father about this?”

“Yes. I had this nightmare, and… I told him.”

“And what did he say?”

“He said… he said I wasn’t imaging things. That… he doesn’t… he didn’t react well to people hurting me. He said he was trying to be better.”

“I see. Did you believe him?”

“Yes.”

“And in light of what has happened, how do you feel now?”

“I… he kept his promise. He didn’t hurt anyone.”

“And how does that make you feel?”

“Happy. Guilty.”

“Why guilty?”

“Because he promised; I should have trusted him.”

“Bae, trust is… hard to earn. Especially when it has been lost before. Even when we want to trust someone, when we feel we should be able to, sometimes we can’t. It’s not our fault, and blaming ourselves is not helpful. As long as we try, we’re doing the best we can, and that’s all we can do.”

“I’m trying.”

“I know you are. And I’m sure your Dad knows you are too.”

“He’s trying too.”

“That’s right.”

“So I shouldn’t get mad when he can’t trust me.”

“It’s not a matter of ‘should’ - feelings don’t work that way. You’re allowed to feel angry, or hurt, when your Dad has trouble trusting you. Just remember that as long as he’s trying, there’s hope.”

“And he needs help. How do I help him trust me?”

“Sometimes there’s not a lot you can do, but patience and communication are usually the best places to start. Just remember that you are not responsible for everything your Dad is feeling. It’s great that you want to help him, but ultimately, only he can make decisions about his emotional well-being.”

“And only I can make decisions about mine.”

“That’s right.”

“I… I understand. Thank you, that… I think… things make more sense now.”

Archie smiled. “That’s what I’m here for.”

XxXxXxX

Over the course of the next week, August was able to run into Emma a few more times, but they never got past the ‘friendly hello’ stage. He had deliberately not cashed in on his drink yet. He was waiting for, well, inspiration. It struck when he stumbled upon the wishing well. The plaque gave it away - it was clearly the Storybrooke equivalent of Lake Nostos.

He knew that there was very little magic here (but not none, as Blue had told them - the Dragon and the Apprentice were proof of that). He tried the water to see if it would reverse his transformation back into wood. Unfortunately, it didn’t (not that he really expected it to - surely Blue would have told him if it were that easy), but he still had hopes it might have some effect on Emma.

XxXxXxX

“What’s wrong, Bae?” Rumplestiltskin asked. Bae had been usually quiet after returning from his run, which Rumplestiltskin found especially troubling. Bae had really seemed to be doing better this past week.

“Someone trashed Mary Margaret’s car. Do you think it might have been Regina?” he blurted out.

Rumplestiltskin blinked. “’Trashed’ how?”

“Someone painted ‘tramp’ across it in big, red letters. And you said Regina hates Mary Margaret.”

“She does, but vandalism is not quite her style.” Magic and murder are. “No, if I had to bet, I would put my money on Kathryn Nolan.” And about time, too - perhaps now Snow and Charming will get a move on.

“David’s wife? Why would she- wait, you said they were trying to avoid each other,” he said, almost accusingly.

Rumplestiltskin smiled wryly. “They were not terribly successful.”

Bae frowned. “That’s wrong. I can’t believe Mary Margaret would do that with a married man.”

“Well, ‘the heart wants what the heart wants’, as they say. And David and Kathryn were having difficulty even before his accident.”

“Still, it’s not right. If he’s married to someone else, they should have stayed away from each other.”

“It would have been the honorable thing for David to end things with Kathryn first, but at least they did not have any children. Don’t worry, Bae, things will work out all right for them in the end.”

“Even for Kathryn?”

“I expect so.”

“Hm.”

XxXxXxX

Damn it.

The trip to well hadn’t worked. August knew that he’d been getting his hopes up over a real long shot, but he was running out of time. At least he’d gotten the Book back to Emma.

With that project done, he could spend more time around town, looking for information and allies. His first project: befriending Henry.

Chapter Text

David and Mary Margaret’s affair was now public knowledge.

And Kathryn Nolan was missing.

So that’s your play, Regina.

Apparently, Regina’s earlier attempt to frame Rumplestiltskin for assault had given her ideas. Or perhaps Kathryn had simply made her angry; he knew that Regina had been attempting to befriend the cursed version of Midas’ daughter, and Regina had never handled rejection well.

In either case, Rumplestiltskin imagined that David and Mary Margaret were in for a spot of trouble. Back in the Enchanted Forest, he’d Seen something about Mary Margaret in particular - something about running and returning, and Jefferson, for some reason - but he’d also Seen himself as the architect of that series of events, and had thought them avoided after he had failed to make that particular deal with Regina. It seemed that this was a vision that would occur regardless.

He did wonder who Regina had enlisted to do the deed. His money was on Sydney Glass (who Emma still seemed to trust for some insane reason), but he doubted that the boozy reporter was capable of murder or kidnapping on his own. And he doubted that Regina had been his extra set of hands; unless there was magic involved, she rarely did her own dirty work. Rumplestiltskin would need to make some inquires.

Rumplestiltskin rather hoped that the blonde was not dead. She hadn’t died in his vision, but then he’d been the one controlling her fate; Regina and her lackeys might have decided murder was easier. It would be unfortunate; Midas had been one of his more tolerable clients.

The golden king had had a mind for the fine print (contrary to the myth, Midas had actually anticipated the side-effects of his magic touch and bargained for the protective gauntlet as part of the original deal) and had not radiated the self-righteous disgust Rumplestiltskin had come to expect from most of royals who dealt with him (like King George - or Ella, who’d picked up that attitude the very night of the marriage he had made possible, even before she’d known he wanted anything beyond the jewels his deal had given her). Rumplestiltskin had been hoping that Midas might prove to be a possible ally once the curse broke, but if his daughter were dead the man would be inconsolable.

But none of that had any bearing on why Rumplestiltskin was standing at the docks looking at a dwarf’s boat.

This is ridiculous - what am I doing here? But he knew the answer to that; the dwarf had been desperate, and even in this world that was a lure Rumplestiltskin had difficulty resisting. Apparently, the dwarf was desperate to protect the fairies - desperate enough to offer his beloved boat just for an extension on their rent.

Well, that was a deal Rumplestiltskin had no trouble walking away from. To salvage the hour, he swung by the Storybrooke Coffee Company; he could get Bae a treat and brush it off as convenience.

And Rumplestiltskin, although he would never admit so, had really started to crave their chocolate almond biscotti.

XxXxXxX

Miner’s Day, in Bae’s experience, was a good opportunity to scrounge up dropped change and leftover food, and to listen people play music for free. He wanted to go this year to see what it was like without being on the constant look out for abandoned or dropped items (especially wallets) or waiting for the nuns to hand out the unsold hot dogs and lemonade at the end of the night.

As he tended to do, Papa agreed to go when Bae pressed him, but this time Bae could tell that his father really wasn’t happy about it. “We don’t have to,” Bae offered.

Papa frowned. “You said you wanted to; have to changed your mind?”

Bae looked down. “No, but I can tell you don’t really want to. I know you’re not… you don’t usually do things like this.”

And there was that guilt on his father’s face again. “Oh, Bae, that’s not it. I just… you should be aware that the nuns and I have a… difficult relationship. Miner’s Day is their primary fundraiser; they need it to be successful every year in order to pay their rent to me. My presence there, well, it might put a damper on things.”

“Oh.” Bae looked down. Papa reached out and gently put his fingers under Bae’s chin.

“But it’s a community event, Bae; you’re entitled to attend just as much as anyone else. Do you want to go?”

“We don’t have to.”

“But you want to.”

“I… yes.”

Papa smiled. “Then we will.”

XxXxXxX

Rumplestiltskin should have thought this through better. He’d only wanted to make Bae happy - and hang the fairies if they didn’t like it - but he’d underestimated how much the townsfolk’s distaste of him would manifest at this event in particular. They were being stared at, and while Rumplestiltskin did not care in the slightest, Bae did.

That didn’t stop him from trying to put a brave face on it. “Let’s find Mary Margaret; she was here earlier, selling candles,” he suggested.

That got them some odd looks too. Frankly, between himself, Mary Margaret, and the chronically inebriated dwarf, they’d only need Regina to round out their gathering of the most hated people in Storybrooke. Rumplestiltskin agreed anyway. Let them talk. Mary Margaret had been kind to Bae; he didn’t care if she actually was a harlot, that was the measure by which Rumplestiltskin judged the worth of a person.

But she was nowhere to be found. A fairy - a yellow one, if Rumplestiltskin recalled correctly (and he always did) - was at the candle booth, looking bored. “Excuse me?” Bae asked.

Apparently started by being addressed, the woman blinked rapidly. “You’d like to buy a candle?”

“Um, no. We were just… have you seen Miss Blanchard anywhere?”

“Oh, um, Mother Superior asked me to take over. She said Mary Margaret left because, ah…”

“Yeah?” Bae prodded.

“Um…”

Sighing, Rumplestiltskin supplied, “Because that unfortunate mess with David Nolan has made people less inclined to buy candles from her?”

The fairy jumped and stared at him, her eyes widening in alarm at the sound of his voice; she’d apparently been so lost in her (vapid) thoughts that she had not seen him standing there. “Y-y-yes. Mr., um, Gold.”

Bae frowned. “That’s not fair. Mary Margaret is a good person. Do you know where she went?”

The fairy shook her head wildly. “Oh. Um, thanks,” Bae muttered, turning away. “Do you think she went home?” Bae asked Rumplestiltskin.

“Perhaps.” At the despondent look on Bae’s face, Rumplestiltskin suggested, “I can call her if you would like me to.”

Bae shook his head. “No, that’s all right. Let’s… let’s just go home.”

The relief Rumplestiltskin felt at that was overshadowed by his concern for Bae. His boy should be allowed to enjoy the local festivals just as much as any other child, but that had never been the case, regardless of time or location. Son of the village coward, then the Dark One, and now the beastly Mr. Gold - Bae was doomed to suffer just for being his. It wasn’t fair.

Heartsick, but not knowing what else to say, Rumplestiltskin simply agreed and let Bae lead the way back towards Main Street. He stopped short, however, when Bae suddenly halted, eyes fixed on Granny’s roof. “Who - is that Mary Margaret?”

“It is,” her light colored clothing was easy enough to pick out, even with the strings of lights in the way.

“Who is she talking to?”

“I think…” It looked like the dwarf, but he could not be sure. Until he saw him raise a pickaxe over his head. He grabbed Bae and pulled him behind him as quickly as his cane would allow, “Back up! Back up!”

“Papa, what-”

Rumplestiltskin hastily turned his back on the dwarf and covered Bae’s head, just as a bright shower of sparks rained down from the roof, and the power flickered out. After a moment, he let him go and asked, “Are you all right?”

Bae blinked at him. “Yes, of course. What was that?”

“A transformer exploding.”

“A what?”

“The device that feeds the power lines.”

“We should find Mary Margaret - she was up there!”

“I’m sure she’s fine, Bae.” But Bae did not look assuaged. Rumplestiltskin sighed. “All right, let’s go - she should be back inside Granny’s by now.”

Inside and back out again, as it turned out. They nearly ran into each other on their way to and from the diner.

“Mary Margaret! Are you OK?” Bae asked, as Rumplestiltskin and the dwarf eyed each other distastefully.

“What? Oh! I’m fine Bae. We’re going to go sell candles now!”

Despite himself, Rumplestiltskin was impressed with the dwarf’s scheme - clever.

“What are you even doing here?” the dwarf demanded, “Come to gloat? Well, forget it; you are not going to evict those nuns.” Rumplestiltskin was less impressed by that.

Bae glanced his way, but he did not seem surprised by the dwarf’s accusation, only sad. He knew the point of the festival was to raise money to pay the nuns’ rent, and he knew that Rumplestiltskin was not tolerant of late payments.

Fortunately, Mary Margaret saved the situation before Rumplestiltskin could say something regrettable in response. “I’m sure that’s not the case, Leroy. Why don’t you go get started; I’ll be right behind you.”

“Whatever you say, sister,” he muttered, rushing off. As he passed, Rumplestiltskin caught the smell of whiskey. How shocking.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Gold, you didn’t deserve that.”

Rumplestiltskin snorted. “Oh, that and more, Miss Blanchard, but truthfully, Bae just wanted to say ‘hi’.”

“You- oh.” Mary Margaret looked at Bae in wonder. Rumplestiltskin was aware that the townsfolk had been quite cruel to her in the couple of days since the affair was brought to light, but she seemed genuinely surprised by the smile Bae gave her.

“Hi,” he said with a shy little wave.

“Hello, Bae,” she replied automatically, still looking shocked. Suddenly, a genuine smile took over, and she said, “Thank you,” gratitude evident in her voice.

“For what?”

“For thinking of me. You have no idea how much I needed that today.” Despite himself, Rumplestiltskin smiled. Loyal and kind, that was his Bae.

“Oh. Um, you’re welcome.” There was a moment of awkward silence before Bae continued, “I guess you’ve got candles to sell…”

“Yes,” Mary Margaret said, still smiling, “But you have a great evening. I’ll see you soon!”

Bae smiled. “OK, bye,” he said with another little wave.

“And good evening to you, Mr. Gold,” she said to him.

“And to you, Miss Blanchard.”

With another smile, and a wave of her own, she hurried off after the dwarf.

“Look,” Bae said, pointing out the lit candles, which were quickly multiplying in number.

“I see,” Rumplestiltskin said. It was pretty enough, he supposed, although he dearly hoped Bae did not want to buy one of the damn things. No way in hell was Rumplestiltskin going to pay five dollars for fifty cents worth of string and wax that helped keep a roof over Reul Ghorm’s head.

Speaking of, he spotted the ruling fairy herself watching him from the edge of the crowd, her expression as wary and calculating as it always was (in either world). He stared her down, the beginnings of a wicked smirk tugging on his lips. Keep your convent if you can, dearie; I have what I want. I told you I’d do whatever it took to find him.

Bae, observant boy that he was, noticed his gaze and followed it. Suddenly, he went very still. “Papa, who is that?”

Rumplestiltskin looked at him. “That’s Mother Superior, Bae; she presides over the convent.”

“I- do I know her?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

Concerned, Rumplestiltskin reached out and put a hand on Bae’s shoulder. “You met her once. You… asked for her help.”

“Did she?”

“You thought so at the time, but ultimately, no. What she gave you… was dangerous. It should never have been given to a child.”

“Oh,” he said quietly. “I… I want to go home.”

Genuinely worried now, Rumplestiltskin tightened his grip on Bae’s shoulder. “Whatever you like, Bae.”

Bae nodded and started walking. As always, Rumplestiltskin followed.

XxXxXxX

August had spotted Rumplestiltskin and Baelfire as soon as they entered the park. He’d been hoping to run into Henry, but August was nothing if not an opportunist, and it was much harder to catch the Dark One out and about than the Mayor’s son.

He’d learned some interesting things. For one, Baelfire (or Baeden - he knew the boy wasn’t awake, although he did not have any cursed memories either, and wasn’t that interesting?) really was a total sweetheart. Regina had turned the entire town against Queen Snow over her affair with David Nolan (and he was sure it was Regina - it’s just an affair, for God’s sake; at least half of them have probably done the same thing themselves at one point or another) but Bae had been worried for her. It was like they were friends; as much as a teenage boy could be friends with a woman in her late twenties.

And then there was Rumplestiltskin. After eight years in the foster system and twenty more encountering people with every dysfunction you can name, August knew the difference between real love and possessive love. From everything that Blue and Nate had said (although Nate’s comments now made little sense, seeing as he wasn’t actually Baelfire - who was he, to react the way he had?), August had been expecting Rumplestiltskin to follow the abuser’s playbook page by page: social isolation, disparaging comments, neglect, gaslighting. He hadn’t seen it the first time he met them (except possibly the homeschooling - could that be a red flag?), but he hadn’t been looking for it then. But tonight he had been looking, and what he had seen had been the opposite of what he’d expected.

When Rumplestiltskin had seen Leroy taking his swing at the transformer, he’d put himself between the explosion and his son. He appeared encouraging of but not pushing Baelfire’s friendship with Queen Snow, and the only disparaging comment he’d made since arriving had been at his own expense (although very true). He’d even answered the boy’s questions about Blue truthfully, if not fully (not that the boy would have understood anyway). To August, Rumplestiltskin’s concern and affection for his son appeared genuine.

Of course, that didn’t necessarily mean anything. It was common enough, August knew, for smart abusers (and Rumplestiltskin was very, very smart) to be perfectly behaved in public and save the abuse for when they were alone with their victims. But that was contrary to what was in the Book; in that, he’d terrorized the boy by hurting other people in front of him. He hadn’t done that tonight.

And he could have; he’d seen Leroy destroy the transformer, and he’d never said a word about it, not even when Leroy (Grumpy, August was fairly certain) had challenged him. He could have called Emma and had Leroy arrested, possibly even shut down the festival if he’d wanted, leaving the nuns out on the street. He hadn’t; he’d just let the whole thing go.

What is his game?

To all appearances, Rumplestiltskin just wasn’t interested in a damn thing that wasn’t his son. It looked real, what they had. It looked like… me and Papa.

God, I miss him. Maybe that’s why I’m reading too much into this.

August hadn’t approached Marco yet; the thought of talking to him when he didn’t even remember having a son just hurt to damn much. It had been bad enough seeing him around town, fixing things and helping people. Just like before.

That was how Geppetto interacted with people. In a purely social context, he was awkward and shy, but if there was a job to do he’d be the first to volunteer, and would happily chat about the details of it for as long as you would let him. He’d probably put hours into setting up this festival, but vanished as soon as the people started arriving.

Not like me. Even before the Curse, August had been an outgoing social manipulator with serious impulse control problems. He’d been good with his hands but better with people, and had only been interested in work when he couldn’t get what he wanted an easier way (like flattery - or lying). His years on in this world had only compounded those failings.

And now I’m finally being punished for it.

August didn’t want to die. He wanted to see his father again. He wanted Emma to get her son back, and for the Evil Queen to pay for what she’d done.

He wanted so badly to make up for the mistakes he’d made, but he had no idea how.

If I can’t think of anything soon… I might just have to make a deal with the Devil.

August had a lot to think about - too much. He wanted a drink, but didn’t think it would be a good idea; the mood he was in, he might not be able to stop at one or two. Pie at the diner sounded safer, once they got the power back up. It’s Sunday - Ruby should be there.

XxXxXxX

Emma supposed she had to hand it to Regina, she’d taken care of the blackout quickly; it was cleared up by the time Emma was done talking to David. In fact, to hear Mary Margaret tell it, it lasted just the right amount of time for her and Leroy to sell all the nuns’ candles and then have a little Kumbaya moment with half the town (or just the one nun in Leroy’s case - seriously, a nun?) before it was fixed and the food tent was able to get back up and running.

And a good thing too, as Emma had been starving when Mary Margaret had stopped by the station with hot dogs and lemonade. It was on their way back they had run into Ruby, and suddenly they had a third roommate.

If Mary Margaret had not brought home at least a dozen injured baby birds as a child, Emma would eat her red leather jacket.

XxXxXxX

Rumplestiltskin watched Bae like a hawk that night. He was out of sorts and kept staring into the middle distance, getting lost in whatever thoughts he was struggling with. Could his memory be surfacing at last? Could Reul Ghorm be awake? Did she do something to him? If she had, Rumplestiltskin, vowed, nothing would stop him from enacting his bloody vengeance on her; she’d taken his boy once, she would not do it again.

By ten Bae was clearly exhausted, and Rumplestiltskin hustled him up to bed. He seemed reluctant to go, and extended his goodnight hug longer than he usually did. Rumplestiltskin let him hold on as long as he liked, hugging back just as fiercely.

“I love you, Papa,” Bae mumbled.

“I love you too, Bae,” he said, hoping his boy could hear in his voice how much he meant it.

After Bae went to bed, Rumplestiltskin stayed up spinning. Spinning and considering Reul Ghorm. He’d assumed that she had been cursed just like everyone else. After all, even he’d been unable to fully exempt himself from the curse, and it was his work as much as Regina’s.

But Reul Ghorm’s power not only rivaled his, she herself was much older and more knowledgeable, and she was the one who had told him of the curse in the first place. Could she have been awake this entire time? Or, like him, had she been awake since Emma’s arrival? Or was she still as cursed as everyone else? Rumplestiltskin should have asked himself these questions months ago.

Rumplestiltskin knew that it was exceedingly rare for Mother Superior to be seen anywhere other than the convent or the hospital, but having never before attended Miner’s Day himself, he had no idea if she usually broke her routine for that event or not. He supposed it would make sense if she did; there was always work to be done during events like that, and it was important to the survival of the convent. But she hadn’t been working; she’d simply been standing on the edge of the crowd, observing.

It was troubling. But not as troubling as Bae’s reaction to her. It was even more extreme than his reaction to the dagger, reminding Rumplestiltskin more of the day the shipment of lanolin had arrived. As had happened then, Rumplestiltskin was afraid that Bae might have the worse sort of nightmare tonight: one based on memory.

He was right.

XxXxXxX

Bae woke to someone shaking him. “Bae! Bae, waken up!”

His father was shouting, but Bae couldn’t tell if that was part of the dream or not. Was Papa shouting in the dream? Bae had thought so, but now… now he didn’t know. All he knew was that he was terrified and angry and alone- no, not alone.

“Papa?” Bae gasped.

Strong hands stopped shaking him, but still gripped his shoulders. “I’m here, Bae, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Bae launched himself at his father, hanging on for all he was worth. “Don’t let go,” he said. He didn’t know what he meant.

“I won’t. I won’t, Bae,” Papa answered anyway, holding him tightly.

Bae was crying and he didn’t even know why. “Don’t let go, please.”

“I won’t, I won’t; I love you, Bae. I’ve got you.” Papa was crying too. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you so much.”

Bae didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but eventually, he pulled back. Papa was reluctant to let him, but did, his hands grasping at empty air as if he did not know what to do with them. Bae retrieved a tissue from the nightstand and wiped his eyes then blew his nose. As if reminded, Papa pulled out his handkerchief and did the same.

“I’m all right,” Bae said. He wasn’t.

And Papa knew that, he could tell. But he didn’t call him on it. “Can you… can you tell me what you were dreaming?” he asked instead.

“I don’t remember.”

“You have no memory of it at all? Nothing?”

“I… I don’t… I think there was… green light?”

Papa went very still. “I see.”

“I know, it sounds crazy-”

“No. Bae…” Papa reached out and took his hands in a strong grip, but he looked as if he might cry again. “It’s not crazy,” he said softly.

“It was just a dream.” Papa flinched. “W-wasn’t it?”

“I… don’t think so.”

Bae asked what he somehow already knew to be true. “You think it was, a- a memory?”

Quietly, Papa answered, “Yes.”

“Of what?”

“Of when… I lost you.”

“Oh.” Bae had never asked about that. He’d meant to, from the very beginning, but he’d been too afraid. He was afraid now.

“Please understand, Bae… what happened, it was… my fault. All my fault. I made a wrong choice, a-and I have spent every waking moment since then trying to find you, to tell you that I love you, and that I’m sorry. And that I never… I never should have let you go.”

He let me go? Somehow… somehow I knew that. Bae really had only one question. “Why did you?”

“Because… I’m a coward. You said as much, and you were right. I was afraid of… of being powerless. I tried so hard to hold on to you and to my power, and when I couldn’t hold on to both, I- I panicked, and I held on to the wrong one. I’m so sorry, Bae.” Papa was crying again.

Bae said nothing, just sat for a moment, staring at Papa’s hands still tightly holding onto his own. He knew he should be angry - and in a very real way, he was - but it wasn’t a new feeling. He’d lived with it for as long as he could remember, knowing, somehow, that he’d been abandoned by someone to end up on the street like he had. He’d pushed it down after Papa had found him, unable to justify feeling that way when Papa was trying so hard to take care of him. Now that he knew the truth, he supposed it should flare up again, but it didn’t. In a way, he just felt relived, like he’d finally found a pebble in his shoe that he’d known was there, but couldn’t find to dig out before. He didn’t want to be angry; he just wanted his family back.

“It’s OK. I… forgive you.”

Papa let out a shuddering gasp. “You… truly?”

“Yes. You… you came back. You won’t leave me again.”

Papa shook his head sharply, his eyes wide, “No, Bae, never.”

“Then I forgive you.”

Papa let go of his hands and pulled Bae close. “My boy,” he cried, “Thank you, son, thank you.”

Bae hugged back and closed his eyes, more of his own tears falling.

XxXxXxX

He forgives me.

He forgives me, he forgives me, he forgives me, he forgives me…

No he doesn’t.

You wretched, greedy coward; what kind of monster are you? He’s only saying this because he doesn’t remember - what are you to take advantage of that?

Please, let me pretend. Just for a little while, let me pretend.

But he couldn’t. It’s not real; it’s not. He deserves better, and you know it.

When the tears let up, and Bae pulled away for a second time, Rumplestiltskin put his hands on Bae’s shoulders. “Bae, I want you to know that, when you… when your memory returns, I won’t… you might feel differently, and if you do, I… I’ll…” Say it. Say it, you coward. “I’ll… understand.”

Bae swallowed. “Oh. Well, I… you think remembering would be that bad?”

Yes. “I don’t know, Bae. But it’s different, to be told something and to remember it actually happening to you.”

“Well, then… I hope I never remember.”

“I…” Rumplestiltskin’s mouth hung open. Never remember? To just… live as they had been? He could do it. He could do it so easily. He could kill Regina, chase off Emma, and have his boy, just like this, forever. He could retrieve the True Love from Maleficent, bring magic to this land, and with the curse still in place, no one would notice anything amiss. He could even brew potions to keep Bae with him always; the immortal Dark One and his son, a boy forever.

Like Pan.

Rumplestiltskin’s heart shuddered and his stomach nearly revolted.

I’m not like him - I’m NOT!

“Papa?” Bae asked, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Bae… you… you are going to remember. And it might hurt, and it might be scary, but I know you; you will be strong, and you will be brave, because that is who you are. And no one, no one, has the right to take that from you. And if… if it means you no longer want me in your life, it will be my failing and not yours.”

Bae shook his head. “I don’t want to hate you, Papa, I love you.”

“And I love you. And I want what’s best for you. To remember… you deserve the truth, Bae. All of it.”

“Even if it hurts?”

“Yes, because it hurts you anyway. But if you understand it, you can defend against it.”

“Oh. I… I see.”

“I love you, Bae. I love you so much.”

Bae put his arms around him again, just leaning against him, saying nothing, his eyes closed but dry. Rumplestiltskin brought a hand up to rub his back like he’d done when Bae was small, also saying nothing. There was nothing more to say.

Chapter Text

With all that had happened, it was perhaps understandable that Rumplestiltskin had forgotten to keep a close eye on the situation with Kathryn Nolan. Neither he nor Bae had slept well after Bae’s nightmare, and he’d offered to open the shop late the next day, but Bae had opted for routine over having a lie-in.

Bae had played his favorite record again, and Rumplestiltskin did not miss the look Bae gave him when the first verse of The Boxer filled the shop. Suddenly the boy understood why that particular song spoke to him the way it did. It was only a matter of time, Rumplestiltskin knew, before the lyrics of El Condor Pasa gained a new meaning as well (“I’d rather be a sparrow than a snail…”). Rumplestiltskin feared that day.

And yet, despite what he had learned so far, Bae had not pushed him away. To the contrary, he’d become positively clingy, actually asking if he could skip his run entirely. Too relieved by not being rejected, Rumplestiltskin had agreed. “But only for today.”

Bae had nodded, his face so very sad. “Thank you, Papa.”

Don’t thank me. I failed you. I’m still failing you.

And that is why Rumplestiltskin could not forgive himself for failing to realize that Regina had made her next move until Emma called him the next evening.

“Hey, Gold, I supposed you’ve probably already heard about the stuff Ruby found by the toll bridge?”

“I’m… afraid not, Sheriff.”

“Wait, really? You?”

“We’ve… had a difficult few days.”

“Oh. Is Bae all right?”

“As well as can be expected. What can I do for you, Emma?”

“Not me; Mary Margaret. She’s in some serious trouble, Gold. Last night Ruby found Kathryn’s jacket, a bundle of blonde hair, and a pair of scissors down by the toll bridge, and there’s blood on all of them. The only prints on the scissors belong to Mary Margaret. She’s agreed to surrender at the Sheriff’s station tomorrow, but she’s going to need a lawyer, and I don’t know who in town is in Regina’s pocket. Do you know anything about criminal law?”

“Indeed I do, Miss Swan, and point of fact I am the only defense attorney in town.” A deliberate choice on Regina’s part, he was sure. “What time do you need me there?”

“Mary Margaret will be here by nine, and Regina wants to be there for the questioning, so don’t be late.”

Rumplestiltskin snorted. “The Mayor interrogating a suspect rather than the DA? That’s not questionable at all.”

“Tell me about it; it was all I could do to convince Regina to let Mary Margaret surrender tomorrow instead of taking her in tonight. I don’t know how much of a chance she has at getting bail; she needed the time to get her affairs in order.”

“Quite so, Miss Swan. I imagine Regina will push for bail to be denied; she knows I can bankroll any amount Herman asks.”

“You’d do that?”

“Who do you think people in Storybrooke come to for that, Miss Swan? And I owe Mary Margaret a debt for taking care of Bae.”

Emma let out a quick sigh. “Thank you. I’ll tell her.”

“Nine o’clock then.”

“Thanks, Gold.”

She hung up.

“Papa?” Bae was still sitting at his computer, but he’d clearly been listening to Rumplestiltskin’s side of the conversation. “Is Mary Margaret in trouble?”

“Indeed so, Bae; Regina has implicated her in the disappearance of Kathryn Nolan. I’ll be representing her starting tomorrow, so you’re going to have to spend the day with Mr. Dove, all right?” Bae nodded.

“Is she going to be all right?”

“Between Miss Swan and I, I’m certain we can thwart whatever Regina is planning.”

He still looked concerned, but Bae nodded again. “OK.”

Rumplestiltskin called Dove.

XxXxXxX

Rumplestiltskin had never expected Snow White to ever greet him with such a look of naked relief. Then again, Mary Margaret was not exactly Snow White, but she was close enough that he found it unsettling. And maybe just a little bit gratifying too.

“Mr. Gold,” the schoolteacher said, “I didn’t do this.”

“Oh, I know that, Miss Blanchard. If I believed otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Can you get me out of this?”

“The arrest, I’m afraid not. But I will be representing you during the questioning and trial if there is one.”

“Trial?” She was frightened. Good - for now.

Last night, Rumplestiltskin had shuffled through the visions he’d had regarding this series of events to determine which action on his part would do the most to speed the breaking of the curse without compromising his rapport with Emma and, especially, Bae. He’d decided precipitating that meeting with Jefferson as he would have originally done was still his best bet - if he could plant the idea in Regina’s head and keep Mary Margaret nervous enough to run. If not, no harm done; he could set up some other way for Emma to meet the Hatter, and Mary Margaret would come to no real harm either way.

He gave Mary Margaret a marginally apologetic look. “I think we best be prepared for the possibility. Unfortunately, the victim of this crime is not available to pronounce your innocence, as Mr. French eventually did.”

“Wait a minute,” Emma interrupted, “You said you didn’t think Regina would have let Moe to do that unless she already had another plan; you think this is it?”

“Well, the timing is certainly right, isn’t it?”

“Regina? But why would she do this to me?” Mary Margaret asked plaintively.

Rumplestiltskin snorted. “I think you’ll find Regina hardly needs a reason for the things she does. But I will tell you that she is quite upset over your affair with David Nolan.”

“Why? Why would she care about that?”

“I can’t say. The reason she appears to be claiming is that she was friends with Kathryn, but this is hardly something someone would do to a friend, now is it?

“You know for sure that she did this?” Emma asked.

“I’d bet a great deal on it.”

“A great deal on what?” Speak of the Devil.

He turned and gave Regina one of Gold’s shark-like smiles. “On my client being innocent of course.”

She frowned. “Your client? Miss Blanchard?”

“Well, I don’t see anyone else in custody.”

Her voice tight with anger, Regina addressed Emma, but her eyes were still locked on him. “Sheriff Swan, are you done with the booking?”

“Yeah,” Emma replied warily.

“Then take Miss Blanchard to the interrogation room. I need a word with Mr. Gold.”

“Uh, interfering with defense council is a crime, you know.”

But Rumplestiltskin waved her off; this was the opportunity he needed. “No, no, it’s quite all right; I’ve a few things to say to the Mayor myself.”

Emma gave him a narrow look. “OK, if you’re sure.”

He nodded. “I am.”

“All right. Come on, Mary Margaret.” The brunette gave him a concerned look - just as out of place as the grateful one had been - but did not protest as Emma led her away. Once the door closed behind them, he turned to Regina.

“We had a deal,” she snapped. Rumplestiltskin smirked.

“We did: that I would not interfere with your plans. Were you planning on interrogating Miss Blanchard without her requested lawyer present? Because that would not only prevent you from using anything she says during that interrogation in court, but any evidence later gathered as the result of those declarations - fruit of the poisonous tree. She’d also have grounds to sue you. Now, that hardly benefits you, does it?”

“Oh, please; you can’t expect me to believe that you’re doing this to help me.”

He laughed. “Of course not. I’m doing it to help me; I’m just explaining how it doesn’t violate the terms of our deal.”

“Are you planning on throwing the trial then? Because getting her off with your little tricks would.”

“We’ll see. I wasn’t actually sure it would come to that; you’re not exactly known for your patience.”

She put her hands on her hips. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I’d entertained the possibility that you were hoping she would skip bail, thus becoming a fugitive.”

Regina snorted. “She’s not getting bail.”

“Ah. Something even more dramatic then? A jail break? I know all about your little key collection, Regina; it would be simplicity itself for you to sneak one into her cell and convince her she’s better off making a run for it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” But beneath her contempt, he could see the gears turning - excellent.

XxXxXxX

Gold was being cagey. He’d said very little during the interrogation, letting Mary Margaret say, in Emma’s opinion, far too much. Like admitting that the scissors were hers - seriously, all the scissors in Storybrooke, and Kathryn’s hair was cut with Mary Margaret’s antique fabric shears? Granted, Gold had reminded Mary Margaret at the beginning that she had the right to remain silent, and she’d insisted on telling her side of the story, but Emma had honestly expected him to jump in before she hung herself.

After the interrogation was over, Mary Margaret seemed to realize she’d dug herself into a deeper hole, and she’d asked him what she should do. He’d offered some empty platitudes and suggested again that she keep her mouth shut and let him handle this (not in so many words, of course, but his intent was clear). Not only was Mary Margaret not reassured, but for the first time ever Emma had seen an undercurrent of indignation in her expression as she looked at Gold. If it were her, Emma knew, she’d have ripped him a new one - even if he was sort of right. Mary Margaret had done herself no favors responding to Regina’s questions the way she had.

And then Emma had found the clothes and the knife in their apartment, both also covered in blood. Even with the skeleton keys Henry had found in Regina’s office, it didn’t look good. But maybe if she had some corroboration?

“Did you know Regina has a set of keys that opens Mary Margaret’s front door?” She asked Gold.

“Well, I knew Moe French got into my house and someone else got into my shop without damaging either lock, both at Regina’s behest, so hearing so does not surprise me.”

Emma could kick herself. She had noticed that little detail, but between Moe as the obvious suspect for the house and the drama with Regina and the safe, she’d forgotten to ask Gold about it - stupid.

“Do you have the keys?” Gold asked.

“No. Henry took them back; I didn’t want her to notice they were missing. She might trace it back to him, and I’m not risking that.”

Gold nodded. “Unfortunate, but I can understand your reasoning. Did he tell you where she keeps them?”

“Er, yeah - but I’d actually seen them before. I didn’t know what they were, though.”

“Oh? When?”

“Ah - it’s probably best you don’t know.”

He smiled knowingly - ass. “Ah, I see.”

“So what do we do?”

“Well, I’d start by thinking of justification for a warrant for those keys, if you can. Otherwise, we prepare for trial.”

“That’s it? There shouldn’t even be a trial - this is a set up!”

“Well, of course it is, but knowing is not proof.”

“You’re her lawyer - help me get proof!”

He sighed. “I told you what you need to do - get a warrant for those keys. Additionally, the burden is not on me to prove that she didn’t do it; it’s on them to prove that she did. They haven’t even presented sufficient evidence that Kathryn is dead yet.”

“Then why didn’t you bring that up back there?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Because, Miss Swan, if Kathryn is not dead, I’d rather not give Regina incentive to actually kill her.”

“I… oh.” He’s convinced. He’s utterly convinced Regina is capable of murder. My kid’s adopted mother - holy fuck.

“Have the DNA tests come back on the blood yet?” he asked, “If we’re lucky, the kidnapper cut themselves too.”

“They’re due back tomorrow morning; we don’t even know if it’s Kathryn’s blood yet.”

“Well, it would be rather stupid to use someone else’s, wouldn’t it? But take special care with the knife. Large knives like that, it’s not unusual for the wielder to cut themselves as well.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “Know all about knives do you?”

Another one of those enigmatic smiles - God, he was testing her patience. “Oh, I know a thing or two. Of course, even if the abductor did cut himself, Regina could just as well suppress those results. I’m certain she will be reviewing them before you get to see them.”

Emma sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Really? Are you sure you’re not just being paranoid?”

He snorted. “You’re willing to accept that Regina orchestrated either an abduction or a murder and is framing an innocent woman for it, but you think tampering with evidence is somehow beyond her?”

“I-”

He didn’t let her continue. “Or are you not quite convinced she’s behind this?” he asked, eyes narrowing. “Even with the discovery of the keys, do you somehow still doubt?”

“Yes, OK?” she snapped, “I have doubts. This isn’t a break-in, Gold, we’re talking about kidnapping and murder here!”

“Then who do you think perpetrated this crime? Mary Margaret?”

“Of course not!”

“Then who else? David Nolan?”

“No!”

“Then who? Who is left? If you think Regina incapable after all you’ve already seen, who do you think is capable?”

“I… don’t know.”

“Well,” he huffed, “Until you do, I suggest you listen to me. Regina will stop at nothing to get what she wants, and right now she wants Mary Margaret to suffer.”

“But why? What did Mart Margaret ever do to Regina? And I will seriously smack you in the face if you say I wouldn’t believe you if you told me.”

He smiled wryly. “Oh, I could explain it in a way you would believe, but then Regina would know you heard it from me. Regina has gone to considerable lengths to hide the details of her past, and she orchestrated the break-ins of my shop and home to determine exactly what I know. She knows now that I have knowledge she wishes to hide; more importantly, she knows that I am the only one in town who does. Sharing that information with you at this time would not only cause considerable trouble for me, it would endanger Bae, and I am unwilling to do that.”

“Even if it helps clear Mary Margaret?”

“Yes.”

She glared. “You said you’d help.”

“I did - but not if it endangers Bae. That is not up for negotiation.”

“Did she threaten him again?”

“She threatens him every time I see her.” And the way he said that, Emma certain Gold had kept track of each of those threats, and as soon as he got the chance he would be holding her accountable for every single one. At least they could agree on that.

“I… damn.” There really wasn’t more to say. She’d made the same call when she sent Henry back with the keys. Gold looked at her expectantly. “I guess, uh, unless you have any other ideas, there’s not much you can do here until the DNA results come back. Go have dinner with your kid. I’ll send the clothes and knife in for testing and figure out a way to get a warrant for those keys. I’ll call you when that first round of results comes in tomorrow.”

“Very well. I’ll give Bae your regards.”

“Yeah, you do that.”

XxXxXxX

August had made contact with Henry at last.

He just hoped it wasn’t too late for Queen Snow.

At least, according to Henry, both Emma and Rumplestiltskin seemed to know she was innocent, and were defending her. But that then raised the question of what Rumplestiltskin planned to get out of it. He’d helped Snow White before, but only when there was something in it for him. What did he want now? To break the curse? Blue had confirmed that. To pit Emma against Regina? Blue had confirmed that too. Was he trying to get in his kid’s good graces? That… seemed possible. It wouldn’t have a week ago, but after seeing them at the Miner’s Day festival, August was starting to wonder how accurate Blue’s information about the Dark One had actually been. She’d been wrong before, about Baelfire no less; could she have been wrong about Rumplestiltskin as well?

Blue’s warnings aside, August needed to figure out Rumplestiltskin’s game. He was running out of time, and now he wasn’t the only one.

XxXxXxX

It was rent day, so Papa had asked Mr. Dove to handle that while he worked on Mary Margaret’s case. Of course, that meant that Mr. Dove would be unavailable to stay with Bae, so Bae was going to the Sheriff’s station with his father.

“Bring your laptop; I’m sure Emma wouldn’t mind if you did some schoolwork in her office while I speak to Mary Margaret.”

“OK. I was going to bring Mary Margaret some books to read; would that be OK?”

Papa gave him a soft smile. “That’s very sweet of you, Bae; I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.” He looked at the stack Bae had piled next to his computer. “Er, maybe not this one,” he said, picking up To Kill a Mockingbird.

“Why not?” Bae hadn’t read it yet, but he was certain Mary Margaret would return it once she got out of jail.

“Ah, it’s about a man who is wrongfully tried and convicted of rape and assault. He’s killed when he tries to escape.”

“I… oh.”

Papa smiled at him encouragingly. “The others should be fine, however; and you can pick some out from the den tomorrow if you like. But now, we have to go.”

“OK, Papa.”

XxXxXxX

David did not believe in her.

Emma did, and Mr. Gold - terrifying Mr. Gold who’d never had a kind word for anyone until he’d found his son - but David, the man she loved, the man she’d believed in, had not.

And while Emma and Mr. Gold believed her innocence, neither seemed to have a great deal of faith that they would be able to prove it in a court of law. They were both trying, Mary Margaret knew, but how much of a chance did she have when the most powerful man in town wasn’t sure he could help her?

And it got worse. The DNA tests confirmed that it was Kathryn’s blood on the hair, scissors, and jacket. And hers was the only DNA found, despite Mr. Gold’s suggestion that the real perpetrator might have cut themselves too.

Everything was pointing to her, and now someone had given her a key to her cell. She didn’t want to run, but did she really stand a chance otherwise? As Mr. Gold entered the Sheriff’s station, Mary Margaret desperately hoped he would have some good news that would convince her to stay.

To her surprise, Bae was with him. He waved to her. Out of habit, Mary Margaret waved back.

“Hey, kid,” Emma greeted, obviously having not expected him to accompany his father either.

“Hi, Emma. May I give these to Mary Margaret?” he asked, holding up a couple of books.

Emma raised in eyebrow. “You don’t have a file hidden in one of them do you?” Mary Margaret thought of the key she was now hiding and winced.

Bae blinked at her. “A file?”

“To saw through- never mind. Yeah, you can give them to her.”

Bae smiled and brought the books forward, passing them through the bars. “I thought you might like something to read.”

She smiled for him, knowing she couldn’t keep the sadness out of it. “Thank you, Bae.” She looked at the covers. The first was collection of H.G. Wells, and the second was Bae’s anthology of short stories. “Oh, did you finish this?” she asked, holding up the anthology.

Bae nodded. “I hope they’re OK.”

“They’re wonderful, Bae, thank you.”

He smiled. “You’re welcome.”

Mr. Gold turned to Emma. “If you don’t mind, I was thinking Bae could work on his assignments in your office while I speak to my client.”

“Sure. It’s over there, kid.”

Bae nodded. “OK. Thanks, Emma.”

“Why did you even bring him?” Emma asked Mr. Gold quietly as Bae reached the office.

“Because Mr. Dove is unavailable today, and I refuse to leave him unguarded.”

Unguarded.

Mary Margaret had opened the front cover of the anthology, and found a page from Bae’s sketchbook folded inside. One side was filled with drawings of vibrantly colored autumn leaves that Mary Margaret had admired when Bae had first shown her his work. On the other side he had written, “Have faith”.

And he had to be guarded. That sweet boy, who’d already been through so much and had twice reached out to her when the town (and now David) had turned their backs, had to be guarded because his father, the most powerful man in Storybrooke, feared what Regina might do to him.

What might she do? She’s obviously done something to Kathryn - kidnapping if not murder. What might she do to Bae to stop Mr. Gold from helping me? What might she do to Emma?

Mary Margaret had to leave.

XxXxXxX

As Rumplestiltskin had Foreseen, Emma and Mary Margaret retuned from Jefferson’s in the nick of time, none worse for the wear, and with new resolve to confront Regina. Mary Margaret even had the wherewithal to snatch up one of Bae’s books and sit primly on her cot as Regina walked in, projecting an air of patient resistance under the façade of a model prisoner.

Regina gave him a furious look, as if Mary Margaret being where she was supposed to be was somehow his fault. He smiled. “Good morning, Regina. I was expecting you would wish to be present for the arraignment.”

“Indeed. I will not allow a violent criminal to wander freely among the citizens of Storybrooke.” Rumplestiltskin almost laughed. Violent criminal? Of the three people in this room, dearie, the only one who does not match that description is the one in the cell.

“I do hope you’re not counting on bail,” she continued.

“Is that an admission that you have colluded with Judge Herman?”

“Of course not. But we’re talking about murder here; we can’t risk Miss Blanchard skipping town in order to evade justice for her crimes.”

Mary Margaret put down her book, and Rumplestiltskin could see she was about to offer a potentially incriminating retort, so he spoke before she got a chance to. “Oh, fear not, Mayor Mills; Miss Blanchard is eager to prove her innocence. She’s not going anywhere.”’

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t simply take your word for it; you’re not exactly the trustworthy sort.”

“No, but my client is, and I think you’ll find that counts for more than you think.” She’s a hero, dearie, and you’re a villain; you know how this story ends.

Regina gave a cold laugh. “Hardly. An adulteress and murderer?”

“So you say.”

“So the evidence says.”

He gave her an enigmatic smile. “We shall see.”

To the surprise of no one, Mary Margaret was charged with both murder and kidnapping, she pled not guilty, and bail was denied. Regina watched the proceedings with a smug glee that only fueled Rumplestiltskin’s eagerness to see her plans brought to ruin. He did so enjoy winning just when his opponent thought he’d lost.

After the arraignment, he immediately requested the use of the interrogation room to consult with Mary Margaret. Regina had a pinched, resentful look on her face, and he suspected she’d been hoping to gloat, perhaps intimidate his client a little. It was petty, but he was pleased to have caused her even that small frustration.

Emma joined them after Regina left the Sheriff’s station. “Ah, Miss Swan, I’m happy you could join us. I was just discussing our strategy with Mary Margaret.”

“Any ideas? I was thinking the key in Mary Margaret’s cell would be a good place to start.”

“I concur. It’s significant, especially if you can get a warrant for Regina’s larger collection. Although I would not be surprised to find that she’s moved them after this.”

Emma nodded. “I was afraid of that to, but I’m still going to try.”

“Good, good. The next order of business, I think, is to track down the real perpetrators.”

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do?” she huffed.

He smiled. “You’ve been focusing on Regina. I’m talking about the ones who actually did the deed. One thing about Regina, Miss Swan, she does not do her own dirty work if she can possibly avoid it.”

She gave him a shrewd look. “You have an idea who it is, don’t you?”

“I have theories. To begin with, I believe Kathryn is still alive.”

“You do?” Mary Margaret asked hopefully.

“Oh, yes. Twice now evidence has surfaced against you, but we still haven’t seen a body or any definitive proof that Kathryn is dead. Why not? The most obvious answer is that she isn’t. And if she is not, someone must be holding her somewhere. Someone who has either vanished themselves or is bringing supplies to her location. I’ve been making inquiries, and my contacts haven’t provided anything definitive, but I’ve been getting reports that Elmo Catton altered his routine around the time Kathryn went missing.”

Emma and Mary Margaret exchanged a look. “Catton?” Emma asked, “He’s a lowlife, a wife beater…”

“But not smart enough to pull this off? That, of course, is where Regina comes in. I can’t say for certain that he’s our man, but I’d starting making inquiries at the Rabbit Hole if I were you; I’m afraid my contacts won’t quite stand up in a court of law. But do be discreet; we don’t want him to panic and kill Mrs. Nolan.”

Emma was nodding, obviously already thinking through her options. “You really think she’s alive?”

“I do. Do you think you can track Catton to her if he is indeed the kidnapper?”

She smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Chapter Text

Emma had thought about using Sydney for this, but his usual place was Granny’s, and no one would believe that she and Glass were at the Rabbit Hole for any reason other than to dig up dirt. So, after some deliberation, she called August Booth.

“Emma,” he said, sounding pleasantly surprised, “How nice to hear from you.”

“Hey. I’ve got a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Back when you reported the break-in at Gold’s shop, you said you’d spent the night at the Rabbit Hole.”

“Yeah.”

“You go there often?”

“Um, often enough. Why do you ask?”

“Because I need to you take me there for drinks tonight.”

“Is this for a case, or do you just want to experience the seedier side of Storybrooke with me?”

“It’s for a case - if you’re up for it.”

“Sure, I’ll pick you up at the station at nine.”

“It’s three blocks.”

“If you’re trying to sell it as a date, riding in on my bike will help.”

He had a point. “All right, if you insist.”

“I do. See you at nine, Emma.”

“See you then.”

XxXxXxX

She’d called him. For help with a case no less. He was sure it was about Kathryn Nolan (Princess Abigail); she’d been doing nothing else since the disappearance. It was the perfect opportunity. If he could earn Emma’s trust, he could convince her the Book was real, and she’d break the curse. And if, in the meantime, he helped her defend Queen Snow, maybe he’d be able to look his Papa in the eye when everyone’s memories returned.

“You’re early,” she said as he handed her the spare helmet.

“Apparently not too early; you were out here waiting for me. Sure you don’t want to make me sweat it a little?”

“Something you should know about me, Booth; I don’t like to play games. Two innocent women are in trouble, one is my friend, and I need to you to help me help them.”

“Of course,” he replied earnestly, but he couldn’t resist then giving her a teasing smile and asking, “Do I get a deputy’s badge?”

She smiled faintly in return. “No way; you already turned that down. Before we go, though, do you know Elmo Catton?”

“Elmo Catton. Five ten, blond, bailiff at City Hall? Spends a lot of time at the Rabbit Hole going on creepy rants about his ex?”

“That’s the one. Bastard was beating her.”

“Damn. Did she get away all right?”

“Yeah; She’s living with friends now. They’ve been really good about looking out for her; he hasn’t gone near her since the restraining order was filed.”

August nodded. “That’s good.” He knew those kinds of situations did not always end so well.

“I’ve had some anonymous reports that he’s altered his routine since Kathryn Nolan disappeared. Have you noticed anything?”

“Now that you mention it, he wasn’t in his usual spot on Wednesday night. You think he’s involved in Mrs. Nolan’s disappearance?”

“That’s what I’m hoping to find out, but if I went there as the Sheriff and started asking questions, I wouldn’t get anywhere.”

“But if you’re just there as my date, someone might let something slip?”

“That’s the plan. You in?”

He smiled. “You bet; hop on.”

XxXxXxX

Emma had to hand it to August; he was good at this. It helped that he was already a regular here, but he seemed to know just how to soothe the ruffled feathers of anyone who did not appreciate the Sheriff dropping in on “their” bar. She wondered how many years he’d been developing his ability to convince people he was totally harmless; for a six-foot guy in a motorcycle jacket, he was incredibly good at putting people at ease. She’d bet money that he’d spent a lot of time in bars that saw a lot of fights, and even more on him being an expert at avoiding or diffusing those fights instead if starting or finishing them.

He was also, it turned out, something of a geek. “So, who’s you’re favorite superhero?” he asked after they got their beers.

“Superheroes? Really?”

“In my experience, people who don’t have a favorite superhero take life too way seriously; no fun to hang out with at all.”

“So I could end this date right now if I told you I didn’t have one?”

“Oh, no; I’d make you justify yourself. If you want me to go away, you’re going to have to be more creative than that.”

“I really don’t, though.”

He gave her a mockingly intense stare. “You’re lying.”

“I am not.”

“Yes, you are. You have one, but you don’t want to admit it.” He smirked. “Afraid I’ll judge you? I promise I won’t.”

“Fine, I’ll tell you, but only after I hear yours.”

“Groot.”

“What?”

“Groot. He’s my favorite.”

“Never heard of him.”

“He’s a humanoid tree who’s friends with a gun-toting, genetically modified raccoon, and the only words he can say are: ‘I am Groot.’ He’s awesome.”

“You’re making this up.”

“I am not; look it up. The book is Guardians of the Galaxy. There are rumors about a movie; I’m excited.” He actually did look excited. And the other bar patrons were tuning them out - perfect.

She shook her head. “You do realize you’ve completely ruined your cool, mysterious writer image now, right? A talking tree? Really?”

“With awesome powers; don’t forget those. Now, I told you mine; tell me yours.”

“Fine. Batman.”

He nodded sagely. “A classic choice. Any particular reason?”

“He doesn’t have any powers, but fights people that do. He’s also not as cut-and-dried as Superman; he has demons.”

“All good points. Unless you consider obscene amounts of money a superpower.”

“If it were, I think we’d be seeing a lot more of Gold in a cape.”

He almost snorted beer through his nose. “Oh, my God! That… that would be terrible.”

“Yeah. It would totally ruin the line of his suits.”

“Oh, the suits and the cape? That’s really more Phantom of the Opera, don’t you think? Capes aren’t actually mandatory, so I say ditch the cape, and the only superhero I can think of who fights in a suit is Rorschach, which… doesn’t really fit. I hope. He’s poor, at least. Really, Gold’s more the supervillain type, don’t you think? Like Lex Luther… or the Kingpin.”

“He’s kind of small to be the Kingpin, don’t you think? And too much hair for either of them. Is that a rule? Supervillans in suits have to be bald?”

“Ha! I knew you knew your superheroes!”

“Only from movies. And cartoons, when I was a kid.”

“For the record, the Daredevil movie did not do the comic justice. At all.”

“You read a lot of comics as a kid?”

“Oh, some. Guardians of the Galaxy, of course. Some Justice League,” he smiled awkwardly at that, “Bits and pieces of others. My favorite is actually Watchmen, and the movie did do it as much justice as it could. Though the book is much better, of course.”

“Haven’t seen it.”

“You should. Not with Henry, though; it’s rated R for a reason.”

“There’s a guy who refuses to wear pants, right?”

August shook his head ruefully. “Dr. Manhattan. But that is the very least of it.”

“But it’s good?”

“Very good. Dark, but good. So, who’s Henry’s favorite?”

“Wolverine.” She was pleasantly surprised to find that she knew that. Maybe she couldn’t write an encyclopedia about her kid on demand the way Gold could, but at least she knew Henry’s favorite superhero.

“Another good choice. I hope he wasn’t too disappointed by the movies, though.”

“He hasn’t seen them; Regina doesn’t let him watch anything that’s PG-13.”

“Well, that’s kind of harsh, but in this case serves the interests of good taste.”

“They’re really that bad?”

“The Wolverine solo movie is. And Last Stand. First Class is decent, but Wolverine’s barely in that. Henry might just be better off sticking to the cartoons for now.”

She nodded. “Wolverine and the X-Men; he loves it. He’s got all the DVDs.”

“I hear it’s OK. Nothing can top the 90’s cartoon, though.”

She shook her head. “90’s Batman.”

“Well, yeah, but I’m talking about X-men. 90’s Batman is in its own category. Mark Hamill; best Joker ever.”

“Wait, Mark Hamill? Luke Skywalker Mark Hamill?”

He smirked. “Yeah. He was the Joker in that. You didn’t know?”

“My childhood has been a lie,” she deadpanned.

A flash of what she would swear was guilt passed over his face, but she must have been imagining it. “I hope I haven’t ruined the series for you,” he teased.

She laughed. “I’ll get over it. I should ask Henry if he’s seen it. I could get him the DVDs for his birthday.”

“Yes, pass it on to the next generation,” he said, nodding.

She let the conversation lull after that, and did a covert sweep of the room. She spotted Nottingham lurking by the pool tables, his eye on a table of young women. She didn’t see Catton anywhere. She leaned towards August and asked in a low voice, “Any of your buddy’s friends here?”

He looked around briefly, then gave her a flirtatious smile. “Pool? I warn you; I suck.”

“Loser buys the next round?”

He grinned. “You’re on.”

XxXxXxX

In the end, the best info they got was from Nottingham, but only after Emma had gone to the bathroom. The misogyny is strong with this one. Which was why, August assured her, Nottingham and Catton were friends.

“The gist of it was that Nottingham thinks Catton has a new girlfriend,” August told her back at the station. “He hasn’t been around all week.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“Er, not that I want to repeat,” he said with a sidelong glance at Mary Margaret. There really wasn’t anything she could do with the information, but she deserved to know what they’d found. “As it is, I feel the need to take shower just from talking to him.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I gather he had a few things to say about me?”

“Let’s just say that I expect he has something he’s compensating for. Or rather, attempting to and failing. Badly.”

Emma snorted. “Does he have any idea what part of town this mysterious new girlfriend might be in?”

“He made a comment about the docks, but I’m not sure he wasn’t just guessing. Or making a very tasteless joke.”

“Well, it’s something to go on, at least. We never searched the buildings around the docks, just the woods and the beach.”

“So what’s next?” Mary Margaret asked.

“Well, building-to-building search is an option; I’m just afraid that if I we don’t get lucky right at the beginning, he’ll get spooked and move her. I’m going to try to narrow it down tonight, and go in tomorrow while people might notice if he does try something.”

“Anything I can do to help?” August asked.

“Go for a cruise around the docks on your bike. If you see anything weird; lights on that shouldn’t be, vehicles… Catton drives a red pickup with dents on the passenger side. Anything like that - give me a call.”

He nodded. “Got it.”

She smiled. “Thanks, August.”

“Yes, thank you,” Mary Margaret earnestly.

His smile looked strained. “You’re welcome.”

XxXxXxX

Emma called Rumplestiltskin at a quarter to six the next morning; she was either desperate or confident that he was an early riser. He was betting on the former. “Hello, Emma; did you find anything?”

“We’ve got a lead. Do you know of any properties near the docks that might have some connection to Catton? Or Regina? I’ve been searching all night, but Storybrooke is really behind the times in record digitization. It’s Saturday, so if you haven’t got anything, I’m going to have to call Regina to let me into the records office at the Town Hall.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that. Let me think.” Fortunately, he’d anticipated this question, and already spent some time reviewing his own records for any connection to Catton. Additionally, it was opportune that he owned most of the commercial space in Storybrooke, which included most of the buildings down by the docks. “This may be a long shot, but Catton’s uncle runs a warehouse by the cannery. It’s never done quite as well as he originally anticipated, and a fair portion of the space is unused. She might be there. And, of course, there is his home. It’s not located on the docs per se, but ‘near’ is a relative term in a town this size, and he now lives alone.”

“Yeah, that had occurred to me too; I think those are going to be our best bet. I’ll call Spencer for the warrants.”

“Are you going to require back-up?”

“Uh…”

“I’m referring to Mr. Dove, of course.”

“You think he’d help with this?”

“If I ask him to.”

“Then, yes; call him. The warehouse will be more secluded this morning, so we’re going to hit it first, then Catton’s home. I have a guy I can ask to keep an eye on the house until we get there.”

Rumplestiltskin raised an eyebrow. “Who? Not Sydney Glass? He has a… sobriety problem.”

From her pause he knew he’d guessed right. “You might have a point. I think I have someone else too; he can back Sydney up.”

“Who?”

“August Booth. I know it’s weird…”

“No, I understand. As an outsider, he has fewer connections to Regina than the residents of Storybrooke do.” So the puppet makes himself useful at last.

Rumplestiltskin had had his contacts watching Pinocchio, and by all accounts he’d been avoiding Regina and reaching out to Emma. Rumplestiltskin still didn’t know how the lad had ended up in this world without being cursed, but considering his behavior so far and his connection to Reul Ghorm, Rumplestiltskin hypothesized that the fairy had sent him to aid the Savior. Why it had taken the puppet so long to appear he didn’t know, but he had his theories. Few reflected well on him, and fewer on the fairy.

“Yeah,” Emma agreed. “He was also my cover at the Rabbit Hole last night. And he was the who reported the break-in at your shop.”

“Did he now? I’ll have to thank him when I get the chance.”

“Yeah. All right, Gold; make that call to Dove. I’ll get those warrants and call my guys.”

“Good luck, Miss Swan.” Now, is the puppet any match for the genie? We shall see.

XxXxXxX

She’d been moved.

“DAMMIT!”

In Catton’s boarded-up basement they found rope, a cot, and empty bottles of tranquilizers. Neither Kathryn nor Catton himself were anywhere to be found. From the abandoned food in the kitchen, it looked like he’d cleared out in a hurry the night before.

Just to be sure, Emma and Dove searched the house up to the attic before she stormed out to meet Sydney and August. As requested, Sydney was in his car and August was on his bike; they were on opposite sides of the house, but in full view of each other.

Emma ignored Sydney and went straight for Booth. “August Booth, you are under arrest.”

“What?!”

“She was moved. Last night. You are to only one who could have tipped him off about the raid today.”

He looked more hurt than angry, but she wasn’t falling for it. “I would hope,” he said, “That you would have enough faith to know I would never betray you.”

“I have ‘faith’ in the evidence, and it points to you. Now, are you going to come quietly, or was your plan to distract me to give him time to hide Kathryn God knows where?”

He titled his head back stubbornly. “I didn’t do it. But in the interest of not ‘distracting’ you, I will come quietly so you won’t waste your time arguing with me.”

She gave him a hard stare, the pulled out her cuffs. “August Booth, you are under arrest as an accomplice in the kidnaping of Kathryn Nolan. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do say can and will…”

XxXxXxX

“What’s this?” Rumplestiltskin asked as Emma marched though the door with the puppet in handcuffs.

“He tipped Catton off about the raid; the bastard moved her last night.”

“No, I didn’t,” Booth contradicted, but he let Emma direct him around the room with an impatient sort of resignation.

“He’s the only one who knew about the raid last night, other than me and Mary Margaret,” Emma stubbornly informed him.

Rumplestiltskin sighed. Oh, I doubt that, dearie. But he knew she wouldn’t respond well to that. “And where is Mr. Glass?”

“He and Dove are knocking on doors to see it Catton’s neighbors saw anything. I’ll meet up with them as soon as I get him booked,” she said, jerking her head towards the puppet.

“I see.” At least Dove is there; he won’t let the genie wander off. “Out of curiosity, Miss Swan, where did those flowers come from?” He pointed to the arrangement he’d noticed as soon as he’d walked in that morning. He’d had his suspicions as soon as he’d seen them; now he was fairly certain.

“Seriously?” she asked impatiently. “Sydney brought those by yesterday. Can you focus, Gold? Catton took Kathryn and ran; we need to find them.”

“And determining the true identity of your leak would help with that endeavor, I imagine,” he snarked, approaching the vase.

“What do you mean, Papa?” Bae asked. As on Thursday, he’d set up his schoolwork in the Sheriff’s office, but today had spent more time chatting with Mary Margaret than actually doing work; Rumplestiltskin had allowed it as it had helped keep them both calm.

“We shall see, Bae,” he said, pulling on his gloves and removing the flowers from the vase.

“What are you doing, Gold?” Emma demanded. Bae, Booth, and Mary Margaret looked on in silent confusion.

“Just looking for something, Miss Swan,” he replied, first looking into the vase then reaching inside, running his fingers around the cavity under the lip. “Aha!”

He pulled out a small transmitting microphone and showed it to her. “Beware disgraced reporters bearing gifts, Miss Swan,” he said with a smirk.

XxXxXxX

August never thought he’d be grateful to Rumplestiltskin, but if he hadn’t found that bug when he did, August didn’t think he’d have ever been able to make Emma listen. Then he’d called his kid’s bodyguard (Seriously, who was that guy back in the Enchanted Forest? Some kind of golem?), who’d then collared Glass like a puppy and held him until Emma could collect them. Currently, Gold was on the phone with the DA, demanding that he drop the charges against Mary Margaret, while Emma booked Glass for kidnapping and illegal surveillance. And naturally, that was when the Mayor arrived.

“What is going on here?” she demanded.

“I’m booking one of the real kidnappers,” Emma replied, not even bothering to look up from the camera she was using to take Glass’ mug shot. Gold ignored her entirely. August pretended to focus on the map of Storybrooke he and Dove had been looking at. Emma was banking on getting Glass to tell them where Catton had taken Kathryn, but a couple of fresh pairs of eyes couldn’t hurt either, especially if Glass refused to cooperate. Now that the Mayor was here, August expected that the chances of that happening had just grown exponentially.

“What are you talking about?”

“Elmo Catton was keeping Kathryn in his basement. We raided it today, but your guy here had bugged the Sheriff’s station and tipped him off.”

“And after he has been booked, he will be telling our dear Sheriff where Mr. Catton is now,” Gold added ominously, clicking his phone shut.

“I don’t know!” Glass protested.

“You’re lying,” Emma said matter-of-factly.

“I’m not! I don’t know where he took her!”

The Queen - and she was pure Evil Queen when she stood like that - gave Glass a long, considering stare and asked, “Have you invoked your right to council, Mr. Glass?”

He actually cringed. “I do now.”

“All right, then. Since you are otherwise occupied, Sheriff Swan, I will call the county courthouse, and have someone assigned.”

Gold and Emma exchanged looks. They both knew no outside public defender would be forthcoming, and August wasn’t betting on Glass living long enough for it to matter. He didn’t particularly care for Glass’ sake - he knew the man was actually the Queen’s Magic Mirror and had helped her murder hundreds of people back in the Enchanted Forest - but he also knew that Princess Abigail would be next. From the looks on their faces, he could tell that Emma and Gold were thinking the exact same thing.

“Fine,” Emma said, to August’s surprise. “I’m just about done here. You can cool your heels in holding while I track down the women you kidnapped,” she told Glass.

Gold, meanwhile, had joined Dove and August at the map, and was staring at it intently. August guessed he hadn’t been counting on Glass being much use anyway; he, of all people, knew the Queen and her Mirror. Suddenly, Gold narrowed his eyes and tapped the road that led to the interstate. He leaned towards Mr. Dove and whispered something in his ear. Dove nodded and silently walked out.

“Where are you going?” Emma asked.

The large man turned and answered, “Hunch.”

She looked and Gold, who nodded. “OK, then.” Dove left.

August sincerely hoped Rumplestiltskin actually was trying to help them; he was pretty sure the princess’ life depended on he had just told his enforcer to do.

XxXxXxX

Rumplestiltskin sincerely hoped the he was right. Letting Kathryn live had always been a risk; one that, in his original vision, Regina had not wanted to take. He’d been puzzled, then, as to why she’d told Glass and Catton to keep her alive. Based on the look she gave Glass - and the looks he gave her - it had suddenly occurred to Rumplestiltskin that Glass and Catton might have decided to do that on their own.

They weren’t Regina’s Black Guard and Magic Mirror here, after all; they were a lovesick reporter and an abusive bailiff. The genie may have been willing to kill for Regina, but the reporter was from this world; death was rarer here, and seemed so much worse for that. Similarly with Catton - he still longed to control women, of course, but was he the killer here he’d been back there? Even Gold, as amoral as he had been, would never have done a fraction of what Rumplestiltskin had done; it simply wasn’t the way of things in this land.

And so Rumplestiltskin followed that line of thought and asked himself what Glass and Catton would do in this situation if Regina were not actually guiding them. The answer was obvious; Glass would have told Catton to leave town. If he was right, Catton and Kathryn would be at the town line. If he was wrong, the chances of finding Kathryn alive were slim at best.

Rumplestiltskin knew when Dove called the Sheriff’s station and not his personal number that his hunch had been correct. The only question now was the condition he’d found them in.

Chapter Text

“Sheriff’s Department… are they alive?… Where are you?… Stay there, the ambulances are on their way.” Bae watched as Emma slammed down the phone then dialed a new number, determined but smiling. “I need two ambulances out to Route 9, right by the welcome sign. We have a crashed vehicle, and the driver and passenger are both unconscious. The passenger has also probably been drugged. I’ll meet you there.” She hung up the phone a second time.

“They’re alive,” she announced, “Both of them. Gold, can you wait here for Spencer?”

“Of course,” Papa answered.

“Is there anything I can do?” Mr. Booth asked, eyeing the Mayor.

Emma paused in the process if grabbing her jacket and shook her head apologetically. “Go back to Granny’s, get some sleep. I’m sorry for-”

“No problem,” he said with a rueful smile, “As arrests go, it really wasn’t bad. Go on, you have an ambulance to meet.” Emma nodded and hurried out.

“Have you been arrested often, Mr. Booth?” Mayor Mills asked nastily.

“A time or two. No felony convictions, though; Mrs. Lucas asked.” Papa smirked. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take the Sheriff’s advice. Goodbye,” he added, nodding to a grinning Mary Margaret.

“Thank you,” she said gratefully.

“You’re welcome.”

“Bye, Mr. Booth,” Bae said, waving.

“Uh, bye, kid,” the man answered, looking suddenly nervous. He glanced at Papa, who was staring down Mayor Mills.

“Goodbye, Mr. Booth,” the Mayor said darkly.

“Do watch your tone, dear,” Papa scolded, “Anyone would think you don’t have any appreciation for the civilians who volunteered their time to locate Mrs. Nolan. On behalf of my client, Mr. Booth, I thank you.”

“Um, you’re welcome.” He left quickly.

“And don’t you have a call to make?” Papa asked the Mayor. She looked at Mr. Glass, who was sitting hunched over in his cell. He gave her a pleading look. Her lips twisted.

“Yes, I do. If you will excuse me.” Mr. Glass hung his head as she marched out, her high heels clacking loudly on the linoleum floor.

XxXxXxX

At Rumplestiltskin’s suggestion, Emma asked Dove to help her guard Kathryn Nolan until she was awake and had given her full statement. It proved a wise precaution as Catton was pronounced dead late Saturday night, having never regained consciousness. Emma insisted on an autopsy, but they both knew everything would be blamed on the crash. To no one’s surprise, alcohol was cited as a contributing factor.

That same night, Sydney Glass disappeared from his cell. The security cameras showed him letting himself out with one of Regina’s skeleton keys. Rumplestiltskin had to admit it was fairly neat; Regina was then able to blame everything on her pet genie. Emma also found a series of frantic love letters in the reporter’s apartment, all addressed to Regina; as far as Storybrooke was concerned, the entire plot had been Glass’ desperate attempt to catch the Mayor’s attention and get re-hired at the paper.

By Wednesday night - the night of Mary Margaret’s exoneration party (delayed so that Kathryn and David could attend) - everyone was convinced that Regina was as much of a victim in the whole affair as Kathryn and Mary Margaret. It was frustrating, but Rumplestiltskin could intellectually appreciate how well Regina had managed to cover herself. There was no denying that she was good at this game.

“Where should I put this?” Bae asked Emma as they entered the loft. They were just a touch early, a strategic decision on Rumplestiltskin’s part. He was very interested in who would be attending this party. He immediately spotted both Mr. Booth and the brand new deadbolt on the front door. Putting those carpentry skills to work, I see.

“What is it?” Emma asked Bae.

“A casserole.”

“A what?”

“You did tell me to bring one,” Rumplestiltskin reminded her with a smirk.

“That was a joke,” she replied. The look on her face was most amusing.

“Nevertheless, here it is. Where do you want it?”

“Over here,” Mary Margaret supplied helpfully. Of course, the full impact of this little joke wouldn’t hit until the curse was broken; Rumplestiltskin was quite looking forward to it.

“You cook?” Emma asked, apparently still in denial.

“I am a man of many talents, Miss Swan.”

“I’ll say,” she groused, “Let me guess, you knit too?”

His smirk widened to a grin. “Well, I certainly can, but I much prefer weaving on a loom.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Now you’re just screwing with me.”

“Certainly not. Knitting is fine for small pieces, but I find it terribly repetitive. Looms are much more efficient. Of course, spinning is really my specialty.”

“OK, now you’re screwing with me.”

“Sherriff Swan,” Rumplestiltskin replied, laugher in his voice, “You’ve been inside my house. Did you think I kept a threaded spinning wheel in the living room as a decoration?”

“Um, yes?” Rumplestiltskin was snickering now.

“Papa,” Bae admonished lightly, “Be nice.”

“Yes, Bae,” Rumplestiltskin replied, with mock seriousness.

Emma sighed and rolled her eyes. “I don’t know how you put up with him, “ she told Bae.

“He bribes me with elaborate coffee,” Bae replied immediately.

She cocked an eyebrow. “’Elaborate’ coffee? Wouldn’t do it for the plain stuff?”

They exchanged a glance.

“Yes, I would.”

“Yes, he would,” they said in tandem, and Mary Margaret started giggling. After a moment, Bae joined her.

Emma rolled her eyes. “You are exhausting,” she told him.

“I’ve been called much worse, Miss Swan.”

“I’ll bet you have.” He started snickering again.

XxXxXxX

August watched Rumplestiltskin’s exchange with Emma and Baelfire in baffled disbelief. It was like something out of a sitcom - The Dark One meets Leave it to Beaver. The world has gone mad.

Then again, this world had always been mad to August. He’d embraced it, of course; he’d had to. He’d have never survived otherwise, and while August was lacking in many areas, self-preservation was not one of them.

He didn’t want to die, and he didn’t want anyone else to either (except Regina, he’d be fine with that). The curse needed to be broken before Regina hurt anyone else, and before August turned entirely back to wood. He hadn’t heard from Blue in weeks; she’d ignored him outright on Miner’s Day, and he hadn’t seen her at all since.

But Rumplestiltskin, he was in the thick of things. Not just manipulating things from the shadows as he had done in the Book, but present and publicly standing against Regina. He and Emma worked together like… well, not friends, but colleagues at least. Perhaps it was all an act on his part, but if it was, it was in service of breaking the curse; even Blue had said so.

And then there was Baelfire. Blue had been wrong about him from beginning to end. When she’d contacted August about breaking up Nate and Emma, she’d implied that he’d been somehow contaminated by his proximity to the curse of the Dark One, and that he, in turn, would contaminate Emma. Nothing could be further from the truth. Baelfire wasn’t dark; he’d brought Queen Snow books and drawn her pictures while she was in jail for God’s sake.

Henry was convinced that Baelfire was the key to Rumplestiltskin’s humanity; that for his son, Rumplestiltskin was giving up being the Dark One. August wasn’t nearly that naïve (for one thing, it was obvious that Henry wanted this to be true because he wanted his adopted mother to do the same - fat chance of that happening), but what he’d seen between Baelfire and the Dark One didn’t fit with Blue’s assessment either. There was love there, real love. Maybe it wasn’t enough to override Rumplestiltskin’s darkness, but it seemed to be enough to keep him on the side of breaking the curse.

August just hoped it was enough that he’d be willing to make a deal.

XxXxXxX

The bell above the shop door jingled merrily. Rumplestiltskin looked up. “Ah, Mr. Booth. How can I help you?” he asked with a smile.

He’d noticed the puppet watching him at the Sheriff’s station on Saturday and again at the party the night before. Rumplestiltskin had been watching too, particularly when Bae had drawn the man into a discussion about his superhero movies. Apparently Mr. Booth was a fan of both the movies and the comics that had spawned such heroes, and had quite a few to recommend. Bae, who was interested in the idea of comics but had never had anyone to discuss them with, had been excited to explore the topic. Henry had then joined the conversation, and Rumplestiltskin suspected that very soon he’d be seeing piles of comics scattered throughout the house. It would be well worth it to see Bae smile like that more often.

Rumplestiltskin had been hoping the puppet would come to see him. He clearly had an agenda, and with the Kathryn Nolan business settled, Rumplestiltskin’s next project was to determine what it was. Booth appeared to be assisting Emma and had been friendly towards Bae, (both of which softened Rumplestiltskin towards him - the latter more than the former), but no one knew more than Rumplestiltskin did what could be hidden behind the friendly image Pinocchio was presenting. For example, if the puppet had been sent by Reul Ghorm to try to take Bae away from him again, nothing would keep either of them safe from the Dark One’s wrath.

Booth seemed to have some inkling of that, shuffling towards the counter with a desperate caution Rumplestiltskin recognized from so many of his deals in the Enchanted Forest. He’d missed it. “I need to make a deal.” He’d missed that too.

Rumplestiltskin smiled. “What kind of deal?”

“Tell me,” the puppet said, kneeling. “What do you see?” He rolled up the left leg of his jeans, several inches above the top of his motorcycle boot.

Rumplestiltskin smiled wider. “Ah. Broke Reul Ghorm’s rules did you? All magic comes with a price, you know.”

“I know. What do you want to change me back?”

“Oh, there’s plenty I’d be happy to ask for, but I’m afraid that is one deal I cannot make. Didn’t Reul Ghorm tell you? There is no magic in this world.”

The puppet frowned, rolling his pant leg back down and awkwardly climbing to his feet. “She did tell me that, but she was wrong. I’ve encountered magic here.”

Rumplestiltskin froze. “Have you now?”

“Yes. There was a man in Hong Kong - called himself the Dragon. He made me a potion, but it was stolen before I could drink it, and he died before he could make me another one. What do you want to make me one of those potions?”

“What kind of potion was it?” Rumplestiltskin asked carefully.

“It was a sparkling, glowing, magenta color. He used an item of extreme personal value to make it - a ‘sacrifice from the heart’ he said.”

Could it be? Bottled True Love? No, that’s impossible… “How… interesting. What object did he use?”

The puppet grimaced. “The string my father used to animate me.”

Hm… “I see. Unfortunately, advance potion making like that requires a power source. Mine is unavailable here.”

Panic flooded the puppet’s expression, “So there’s no way you can help me?”

He smirked. “Now, now; I didn’t say that. There are other forms of power here, and fortunately, I am adept with them.”

“What do you mean?”

“Knowledge. Knowledge is power. I may not be able to reverse the process myself, but with sufficient information, I may be able to help you reverse it.”

“What kind of information?”

“Everything you know about the spell. Everything you have experienced relating to it. Don’t hold back; I can’t help you if you do.”

“And what’s your price?”

“Information. A fair trade, don’t you think?”

“What information?”

“Information that will help me protect my son. As for the specifics, I’m not going to get into that until we have a deal in place.”

The puppet gave him a shrewd look. Desperate as he was, he didn’t make a deal with the Dark One lightly. Rumplestiltskin could respect him a little more for that. “Do I have your word that you will only use this information to protect your son?” he asked.

“I may also use it to protect myself and my property,” Rumplestiltskin replied with an enigmatic smile. Clearly, the puppet had put some thought into this - how diverting.

Booth frowned, considering. After a moment, he extended his hand. “Deal.”

Rumplestiltskin shook it. “Marvelous. We have until noon to speak. If more is required, I will call you later this evening.”

“OK. Where do you want me to start?”

“Tell me how you came to be a real boy.”

“All right. My father and I were trapped on this raft…”

XxXxXxX

He was insane. He’d made a deal with Rumplestiltskin, and he didn’t even know the full price yet. He’d tried to fence him in as much as he could, but August knew the Dark One could find a way around that if he wanted to. August could only hope that Henry had been right, and he wouldn’t want to.

He told him everything about the raft, about the sensation of drowning (he honestly hadn’t known he could drown as a puppet; he doubted he’d have had the courage to do what he’d done if he had) and then explained how Blue had saved him. He told Rumplestiltskin everything Blue had said, and everything his father had told him later; he’d been so proud of him then, but angry too (“Don’t you ever do anything like that again, Pinocchio! You can be brave and unselfish without risking your life!”).

“Brave, truthful, and unselfish?” Rumplestiltskin asked. “Those were her exact words?”

“Yes.”

“All right, continue.”

“Um, that was it. I stayed human for nearly thirty years; I started turning back to wood when Emma arrived in Storybrooke, and the clock began to move.”

“Really? That exact moment? You’re sure?”

“Oh, yeah. December 8th, 8:15 in the evening here; December 9th, 8:15 in the morning there.”

“You were on the other side of the world? And it still affected you? Fascinating. Has it been steady since then?”

“No. It goes in spurts, and it’s getting worse each time.”

“I see. Have you been to see Reul Ghorm about it?”

“Not exactly, but she knows. She said I just have to make Emma believe, but I don’t think I have that much time left. She’s… stubborn.”

Rumplestiltskin nodded, “That she is. Tell me about these ‘spurts’ - were you doing anything in particular right before they happened?”

“Well, for the first, I was sleeping. The second when I was talking to the Dragon. There was a third, ah, just after I left his apartment. The forth was after the Miner’s Day festival…”

“And what did you do there?”

“Ah, I was trying to talk to Henry. And, ah, I was…”

“Yes?”

“I saw you with your kid. I was thinking I might have to make a deal with you, and…”

“And?”

“Look, Blue told me a lot about you. I was trying to figure out how much of it was true.”

“I see. Did you do anything else that night?”

“I had pie at the diner and flirted with Ruby. It started a fight between Ruby and Mrs. Lucas.”

“I see. Was that the last ‘spurt’?”

“No, there was one more, right after I took Emma to the Rabbit Hole on Friday.”

“I see. Miss Swan informs me that you were helping her gather information regarding Kathryn Nolan that night.”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Did you use deception?”

“Uh, yes? It was an undercover thing; I was acting as her date.”

“I see. And in your interaction with the Dragon, did you use deception then?”

“I… yes. You’re saying it gets worse when I lie?”

“You tell me. But that was one of the conditions, was it not?”

“Yes. But the last one; I was doing it to help! Being unselfish is one of the conditions too.”

Rumplestiltskin sneered, “Is Reul Ghorm the type to permit her servants that sort of latitude, do you think?”

Well, she’s allowed to lie for the greater good. But… “No, no she wouldn’t. So… I have to get Emma to believe without lying or being selfish.”

“Or cowardly. Based on what you’ve told me, yes, I do believe that is the key to stopping this. Changing back, however; I imagine that will take something bigger. Something… heroic.”

August sighed. “Like the first time.”

Rumplestiltskin nodded. “Indeed. It is difficult to impress Reul Ghorm, but you have managed to do it once. In the meantime, you simply need to refrain from making it worse.”

August laughed humorlessly. “Of course. I can’t lie, even though no one will believe me if I tell the truth. Does the Storybrooke hospital have a psych ward?”

And that was the crux of it. August had not only been predisposed to lying, in this world he’d had to in order to survive. When he’d first come here, he’d known he would have to lie to protect Emma (about where he found her, to start), but he’d stuck to the truth as much as he could at first, and it had landed him in all sorts of trouble. The cops and social workers had thought he was crazy. The adults at the first group home (the one I abandoned Emma at) had just thought he was a troublemaker; it had earned him a smack or two and plenty of lesser punishments. He’d learned to start lying more pretty quickly after that. Why hadn’t Blue warned them about that? It’s not fair. But, then, has she ever really been fair?

“Oh,” Rumplestiltskin said, derailing August’s little pity party. “I wouldn’t say ‘no one’, dearie. There is the matter of my payment, after all.”

“Yes. Yes, OK. What do you want to know?”

“Let’s start with how you got to this world.”

“OK.” He told him everything.

XxXxXxX

A magic tree.

Reul Ghorm knew about a magic tree that could have taken me here the entire time, and she said nothing.

Instead, she told me about the curse.

And she never interfered. She could have, and she didn’t.

She lied to me.

She lied to Bae.

She lied to Snow White and her Council.

SHE LIED!

She used me.

She used Bae.

She even used her little puppet.

What does she want?

What is she planning?

“You said you have been in contact with Reul Ghorm - for how long?”

The puppet cringed. “She somehow got my number eleven years ago. She called me and told me where Emma was, and that I had to break her up with the guy she was dating.”

Eleven years? She must have been awake for the entire curse!

“This was Henry’s father?”

“Yes.”

“Who was he?”

“That, um…”

“You can’t afford to hold back, Mr. Booth, and I’m sure I don’t need to remind you what happens to people who break deals with me,” Rumplestiltskin prodded.

Booth flinched. “Yes, of course; I know. His name was Nate Calloway, but Blue told me that he was actually, ah, Baelfire.”

Rumplestiltskin growled, his building rage reaching new heights. “My Baelfire?”

“Yes. And here’s the weird thing. She told me that the best way to scare him off was to tell him I knew who he was. So I did; and it worked. But why, when he wasn’t actually Baelfire?”

“That… is a very good question. I will have to think on that. Did Reul Ghorm tell you who Baelfire is to me?”

“Yes. That was the reason I agreed to do it. She said… she implied that he was somehow… tainted. That he would corrupt Emma. By the time I found them, it seemed like he’d already started; he had her stealing things.”

“Tainted… because he is my son,” Rumplestiltskin spat.

The puppet drew back. “Yes. I’m only telling you what she told me! But I’ve met the real Baelfire; I know he’s a good kid. She was wrong about him, just like she was wrong about the magic thing. She never even told me why she thought Nate was Baelfire, and she brushed me off when I asked her about it.”

“I see. Reul Ghorm does not share knowledge freely.”

Another humorless laugh. “Tell me about it. She hasn’t even helped me with Emma at all; she just told me to stay away from the convent. And from you. Maybe this was why.”

“Indeed.”

“I don’t suppose you have any idea how to make Emma believe? You do want the curse broken, right? Blue said you did. But, um…”

Rumplestiltskin gave a humorless laugh of his own, “Her words are suspect? Fear not, in this, she was correct. I don’t suppose you’ve asked Miss Swan about the weather?”

The puppet blinked. “What?”

“The weather. Surely you noticed something off about it?”

“I noticed there was no snow…”

“And year-round autumn foliage. And Regina’s tree always bears fruit.”

“That’s… how did I not notice that? I thought I was immune to the curse.” He said the last bit more to himself than to Rumplestiltskin.

“Oh, no one is entirely immune, or Miss Swan would have noticed herself by now.”

“Then how did you notice?”

Rumplestiltskin smirked. “I know the curse more than anyone except Regina; I know what it can do.”

Booth frowned. “That’s right. I shouldn’t even be talking to you.” He laughed again. “But at least you’re helping. Any other suggestions?”

“Not at the moment; that was never my role to play. But I will call you if I think of something.”

“I… OK. Good. Do you have any more questions for me? I’m holding up my end, here.”

“That you are. Tell me about the Dragon; was he from our world, or another?”

“I don’t know; he didn’t answer when I asked. He knew about my, uh, problem before I showed it to him, and guessed my name from that. He also knew all about the string, what it was, without me telling him.”

“I see. And in your travels, have you encountered any other magic?”

“Yes. The Sorcerer’s Apprentice found me in Phuket. He told me about Henry’s Book and gave me pages to add to it.”

“What sort of pages?” Rumplestiltskin had known, of course, that Henry’s book was magic - he’d even speculated it was one of the Author’s legendary Books - but he’d been unsure of the exact nature of it. Knowing that the Sorcerer was involved answered one question by raised many others. This deal might yield even more useful information than Rumplestiltskin had originally thought, but later; the matter at hand was more urgent.

“My story. He said the Book was the key, but that was weeks ago, and it doesn’t seem to have helped.”

“Hm. Any other encounters?”

“No.”

“I see-”

The bell above to door rang. “Bae!” Rumplestiltskin greeted with a smile, “You’re early.”

“We were trying to beat the rain.”

Rumplestiltskin glanced at the gray sky outside. “And it appears you did. Mostly.” There were spots of rain on Bae’s shoulders, and in his hair.

“Yeah. Hello, August!”

The puppet gave a strained smile. “Hello, Bae. Have a good run?”

“Except for the rain, yeah. How are you?”

“I’m f… your Dad just helped me with something important.”

Bae smiled at him. Rumplestiltskin smiled back. “I’m happy to have been of service, Mr. Booth. I will call you if I have any more information for you.”

“Great, thanks. You have a good afternoon, Bae.”

“You too! Good afternoon, Mr. Dove.”

The large man smiled and gave a slight bow, holding the door open for August. The puppet gave him a nervous glance, but muttered, “Thanks,” hurrying out into the rain. Dove followed.

“Are you ready for lunch?” Rumplestiltskin asked Bae.

“Yeah, I’ll get them!” he replied cheerfully and ducked into the back.

“Thank you, Bae.”

Whatever you’re planning, Reul Ghorm, you will not succeed. He’s mine, and you will not interfere.

Chapter Text

August found Emma at the Sherriff’s station, pouring over Sydney Glass’ phone records again. “Find anything?” he asked.

“For someone he was supposedly stalking, Regina called Sydney a lot,” she muttered. “Beyond that, nothing. And Kathryn doesn’t remember anything incriminating either. Dammit!”

“Woah, take a breath. Did something happen last night?”

“The same thing that happens every night; Henry went home to that psycho! I need to build a case against her; I need to get him out of there.” She sighed. “I should talk to Gold; maybe he can challenge the adoption.”

He shook his head. “That isn’t going to accomplish anything.”

“I have to try! She’s dangerous!”

“Yes she is, but a custody battle isn’t the answer. You need to look at the big picture; that’s the only way you’re going to understand what you’re up against. That’s the only way you’ll know how to beat Regina.”

“OK, new guy, ‘how’ is that?”

“Take the day off. Come with me, and I’ll show you.”

“And where exactly would we be going on this magical mystery tour?” she scoffed.

“If I told you,” he said with a jaded laugh, “You would never come.”

“Oh, God, first Gold and now you? Either give me a straight answer, or get out of my office; I don’t have time for this.”

August narrowed his eyes. “Gold?”

“Back during the Moe French thing, I asked him about his history with Regina; he kept saying I wouldn’t believe him if he told me. And apparently there’s some ‘information’ he knows about her grudge against Mary Margaret that no one else does; he won’t share that because she’ll know it came from him, and he’s afraid she’ll go after his kid.” And he’s probably right - on all counts. Damn it.

But he wouldn’t give up. “Oh, come on; take a leap of faith. You come with me, and I’ll promise you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

She looked him straight in the eye. “My kid needs me; I don’t have time for faith. Either tell me where you’re trying to take me, and why it will help against Regina, or leave. I won’t ask again.”

Why is she being so stubborn? “Emma-” he pleaded.

“No. Answers or leave.”

His sighed. “When you’re ready, you know how to find me.”

Frustrated, but knowing she’d only resist more if he kept pushing, he stalked out of the building. Or he tried to. Another attack hit him as he reached the bottom of the stairs, and he stumbled into the street.

What is this? I didn’t lie! I’m trying to help her see the truth!

Was it ‘cowardly’ to walk out? Am I not even allowed to take a minute to regroup?

Selfish? I’m not being selfish! I’m trying to help everyone, but Emma only cares about Henry! She’s the one being selfish!

Well, why shouldn’t she be? Everyone else in the world is. I sure as fuck am.

She’s supposed to be better than that.

So was I.

Fuck.

XxXxXxX

That evening, Rumplestiltskin’s phone rang just as he and Bae were loading the dishwasher. The name on the caller ID did not surprise him.

“I need to take this in my office, Bae; I may be a few minutes.”

“OK.”

“Gold,” he said.

“Did Emma come to see you today?” Booth asked without preamble.

“No. Why do you ask?”

“She’s going to, soon. She wants your help challenging Henry’s adoption.”

“It can’t be done, not after this long.”

“You need to tell her that. I told her it wouldn’t work, but she didn’t listen to me. Point her in my direction; I have a plan.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, but I need her to come with me for a few hours; she wouldn’t today because all she cares about is getting custody of Henry,” the puppet complained.

“Well, of course,” Rumplestiltskin said, matter-of-factly. Is he really surprised? Idiot.

The puppet hissed in pain, and Rumplestiltskin imagined his ‘condition’ was punishing him for being so selfishly dense. The Dark One smiled. “What, exactly, is your plan?”

“I’m going to take her to the tree we came through; it’s a couple of hours from here on my bike.”

“And there you will explain everything?”

“Yes.”

Rumplestiltskin sighed. “Well, better out there than where Regina might overhear. Remember to draw her attention to the change in foliage.”

“I will.”

“And, Mr. Booth, do remember to explain how this is the best way to protect Henry from Regina; she will not listen to you if you do not.”

“I… yes, of course. Thank you.” The thanks were said with grudging sincerity.

Rumplestiltskin smiled. “You’re welcome. For the record, Mr. Booth, I do hope you are successful.”

The puppet sighed. “Me too.”

XxXxXxX

As Booth had predicted, Emma came to Rumplestiltskin the next day, just after Bae left for his run. By now, everyone in town had to know that eleven to noon was the only time he was reliably available to discuss sensitive matters; it lent his day a certain predictability he appreciated.

“Hello, Emma.”

“Hey, Gold; I need your help.”

“What with?”

“Henry; I want to sue Regina for custody.”

“Can’t be done; the window on the adoption has long since closed.”

“You said-”

“I said that if Regina lost custody for a specific reason - for example, neglect - I could make sure he was placed with you. Until that happens, there is nothing I can do.”

“Could you make a case for neglect?”

Rumplestiltskin sighed. “I’m a private attorney; Miss Swann, one with a known adversarial relationship with Mayor Mills. I am not a CPS agent or the DA. No, I can’t ‘make a case’ for neglect.”

Emma grimaced. “Do you know anyone with CPS?”

“No.”

“What about Spencer? I know you have pull with him.”

“About as much as Regina does; he will not cross her on my word alone.”

“Dammit! Gold, you know where I’m coming from! I know you wouldn’t leave Bae with Regina if it were him. You have to help me!”

It was as good an opening as any. “At the moment, Miss Swan, the best advice I can offer you is this; the only way you will get custody of Henry is to take down Regina completely, any way you can.”

“How? She’s too damn smart; none of the evidence in the Kathryn Nolan case ties back to her.”

“Well, then, I suggest you start looking beyond the Kathryn Nolan case.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere. Any lead you have, no matter how far-fetched. Those are the avenues Regina will not know to defend against.”

“And you’re still looking for information, right?”

“Always. But Regina knows me, and has set her defenses well. I suggest you start looking for aid from someone she doesn’t know.” And if she couldn’t figure out who he was referring to from that, she wasn’t half a bright as he thought she was.

She sighed, and seemed to consider. “All right. I might have an idea where to start looking. Thanks, Gold,” she muttered.

“Good luck, Miss Swan.”

Your move, puppet.

XxXxXxX

August had to hand it to Rumplestiltskin; Emma was pounding in his door before noon the day after August had called him. “Emma,” he greeted, “Is everything OK?”

“No,” she said, “Gold can’t help me, not until I make a case against Regina. And I am just about out of options.”

“Just about?” he asked carefully.

“You told me to beat Regina I need to see the big picture,” she turned to him, eyes wide, almost pleading. “Show it to me.”

“Of course.” He grabbed his jacket and helmets, handing her the spare. “You’ll need this.”

She didn’t say a word until they reached the leaving Storybrooke sign. She poked him, and he stopped the bike. “August!” she shouted, “Do you want to tell me where we’re going and how it’s going to help me beat Regina?”

“We’re going on a trip, Emma, so I can tell you somebody’s story.”

“Whose story?”

“Mine.” When she said nothing, he kicked off again. He noticed, now that Rumplestiltskin had brought it to his attention, that while the bite in the air did not change as they crossed the town line, the withered, brown leaves of autumn changed to the bare limbs and not yet green buds of early spring; there was even some light snow on the ground.

They reached the diner in a little under two hours. Those two hours had clearly robbed Emma of what little patience she’d had.

“What the hell is this?” she demanded, climbing off the bike.

“Last I checked it was a diner.”

“No more screwing around; I am not a character in one of your books. What the hell are we doing here?”

August secured his bike and climbed off himself. He gauged her expression, and was surprised by what he saw. “I think you know.” He pulled out the newspaper clipping. “You’ve been here before. This is the diner you were brought to when you were found as a baby.”

“So you found an article about me. So what? I thought this trip was supposed to be about you.”

“It is. This is my story. And it’s your story.”

“And how is that?”

It was the moment of truth. “That seven-year-old boy that found you? That was me.” She said nothing. After a long moment he said, “Come with me.” Reluctantly, she did.

They’d nearly reached the tree before she asked, “Why are we in the woods?”

“All the answers you’ve been searching for are right where I found you.”

“See?” She objected, “You’re not that seven-year-old boy; I wasn’t found in the woods, I was found on the side of a highway.”

“Why do you think that?” He asked. “Because you read it in the newspaper? Did it ever occur to you that maybe that seven-year-old boy lied about where he found you?”

“No. But it occurs to me that you’ve been lying to me about everything. And I’m done listening.” She began to walk away.

“When I found you,” he called after her, “You were wrapped in a blanket. The name ‘Emma’ was embroidered along the bottom of it.” She turned back to him. “That wasn’t in the article, was it? How would I know that unless I was there?”

“OK,” she said cautiously. “Let’s say you were that kid. Why lie about where you found me?”

“I lied to protect you.”

“From what?”

“That.” He pointed.

“A tree?”

“You’ve read Henry’s Book, right?” She sighed. “You know about the Curse, don’t you? Your role in it? It’s true, Emma. We both came into this world through this tree.”

“You’re asking me to believe that you are a fairy tale character.”

He smiled ruefully. “Pinocchio.”

“Right, of course, Pinocchio,” she said, beginning to laugh. “It explains all the lying,” she sneered. He looked away - she’s right.

“You’re the one who added the story to Henry’s book,” she said suddenly.

“I needed you to know the truth.” He did not mention the Apprentice; she was definitely not ready for that yet.

“The truth is you are out of your mind, and you’re not even a very good liar. Why not write the end of that story?”

“Because this is the ending, and we’re writing it right now.”

“And how does this story end?”

“With you believing,” he said with far more assurance than he felt.

She shook her head. “Not gonna happen.” And she turned, walking away.

He stared at her in shock for a moment, then ran after her. “Emma! Emma, wait!” Just then, his leg seized up again, and he felt the flesh of his thigh transform into wood. He fell.

She stopped and turned. “What is wrong with your leg?” she demanded.

He began to laugh. “I failed.”

“What are you talking about?”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. You don’t believe.” He struggled to his feet. She marched up to him angrily.

“If you think that by making me feel sorry for you, that something’s going to change, you are wrong.”

“I am not,” he said, getting angry himself for the first time, “Screwing around here. Whatever you believe, or don’t, this is real, Emma. I am sick.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Have you ever been to Phuket? It’s beautiful. Amazing island, full of pleasures. The perfect place to lose one’s self. That’s where I was when you decided to stay in Storybrooke.”

“How do you know when I decided to stay in Storybrooke?”

“Because at 8:15 in the morning, I woke up with a shooting pain in my leg. That’s 8:15 at night in Storybrooke. Sound familiar? That’s when time there started to move forward again. I was supposed to be there for you.” He took a shuddering breath. “But I wasn’t. Because I was half way around the world, I got a painful reminder of just how far I’d strayed.” But is that really right? After 28 years of lies and selfishness, would it really have mattered if I kept that one promise? “If that tree won’t make you believe…” Wait. “The trees. The weather. Have you noticed that, Emma?”

She scoffed again. “What?”

“The weather. What month is it, Emma? What do you see out here?”

“I’m done playing your games.”

“It’s not a game! Look around; what do you see? Bare trees? Snow? Buds? And what do the trees look like in Storybrooke?”

She blinked. Please, please, let this work. “They’re not bare. They’re covered in autumn leaves, and have been since you got to town, right? In early December. In Maine. How are they doing that? And Regina’s apple tree, how is it still bearing fruit? Because it’s magic. The entire town was created by magic, and Regina cast the spell. It is always autumn in Storybrooke because she wants it to be.”

“I… I don’t know. Storybrooke is on the coast-”

“Being on the coast doesn’t keep the leaves on the trees, Emma! You could search the entire state of Maine and you would not find a single tree other than Regina’s that has fresh apples on it in March! You… you’re in denial. I bet you can’t even see this!” He yanked his pant leg up to reveal his wooden shin.

“Your leg?” she scoffed.

“I knew it,” he laughed, “You don’t want to believe! After everything you’ve seen, why can’t you just do it?”

“Why is it so important to you that I do?”

“Because I, the town, everyone, needs you!”

“I don’t want them to need me!” Neither did I.

“Well, that’s too bad because we all do!”

“You are saying that I am responsible for everyone’s happiness? That is crap! I didn’t ask for that! I don’t want it!”

“Not right now. A little while ago you didn’t want Henry either, but then he came to you and now you are fighting like hell for him.”

“For him! Because that is all I can handle right now! And I’m not even doing a good job of that! Now you’re telling me I have to save everyone? That is beyond ridiculous; I don’t want any of it.”

“Well-” Stop. Henry is the key; make it about Henry. “You want to save Henry, Emma? This is the way. The Evil Queen will not let him go, not if you refuse to see what she is. Save Henry, Emma, by doing what you were meant to do. You’re our only hope; you’re Henry’s only hope.”

She looked at him with wet eyes. “Then you’re all screwed.”

Damn it.

XxXxXxX

Something had changed. She’s not there yet, but we’re getting close. His phone rang.

“Gold.”

“It didn’t work,” the puppet said.

Rumplestiltskin smirked. “Are you sure?”

“She won’t listen. She ran as soon as we got back to Storybrooke.”

“Ran where?”

“I don’t know. She won’t… she refuses to believe.”

But how long will that last, dearie? “Well, then,” Rumplestiltskin said, deciding he owed the puppet something for doing his part; it would not do to be in his debt, after all, “I suggest you make peace with your maker.”

Silence, and then the puppet hung up. “Who, apparently, could not be bothered to teach you manners,” Rumplestiltskin muttered.

XxXxXxX

Her tree was dying. The curse was weakening. Regina had thought that keeping David away from Mary Margaret would be enough to preserve it, but apparently, she’d been wrong. It’s not them; it’s Emma. She was always the threat.

But what to do about it? Go to Rumple? No, he’s on her side. He wants the curse broken. She still didn’t quite know why, but it didn’t matter. Maybe he wanted it for his son. Maybe he wanted to leave Storybrooke, or maybe he knew it was the only way he could take Henry from her. His motives were unimportant. As long as she could neutralize Miss Swan, there was nothing Rumplestiltskin or anyone else could do to break the curse.

Regina couldn’t kill her, of course; the curse would break automatically if she did - part of Rumple’s plan, I’m sure. And she couldn’t just run her out of town; as long as Emma was free, Regina knew, she would not stop trying to take Henry from her. So what was left? Imprison her? Rumple won’t allow that. He’d already foiled her plans to frame him and Mary Margaret for assault and murder, and would surely raise a fuss if Miss Swan suddenly disappeared. What I need… is magic.

Regina smiled.

XxXxXxX

Nothing. There was nothing.

Emma had spoken with everyone; she’d even gone back to Gold who’d just reiterated what he’d told her the day before. He was useless. August was crazy. Mary Margaret was angry, and Archie thought her presence was harming Henry more than helping him.

There was nothing she could do - nothing except declare a truce and hope Regina agreed for Henry’s sake. She turned her steps to Regina’s - Henry’s - house.

XxXxXxX

This wasn’t right. Emma had tried to leave. August - Pinocchio - was giving up. There was only one person left that Henry could turn to, but he’d never really been sure if he remembered who he was before the curse. It was a risk, but Henry was desperate.

Bae and Mr. Gold looked up when Henry opened the door, making the bell ring. “Hi, Henry!” Bae said.

“Hi, Bae. Um, can I talk to you for a minute, Mr. Gold? In private?”

Mr. Gold looked from him to Bae and back again. “Why don’t you listen to your record for a bit, Bae, while I talk to Henry in the back?”

Bae gave him a confused look, but nodded anyway. “OK.”

“Come on in back, Henry,” Mr. Gold said, grabbing his cane and pulling back the curtain. As Henry reached it, piano music filled the shop.

“When you’re weary, feeling small…*”

“That’s a pretty song,” he said.

“When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all…”

Mr. Gold nodded. “Yes. Mary Margaret is particularly fond of it.”

Henry smiled. “It seems like her kind of song.”

Mr. Gold nodded again, and gestured to an old cot at the back of the room. Henry sat down while Mr. Gold pulled a chair over for himself. “Now, what did you need Henry?”

“I need… I need help with the curse.”

“And why do you think I can help you with that?”

“Because you’re Rumplestiltskin. You wrote the curse so you could find your son, and you’ve been helping Emma to break it so you can be with him.”

Mr. Gold blinked slowly. “Suppose all of that is true. If it were, it would mean I am already doing what I can; what kind of help, specifically, are you asking for?”

“Emma needs to believe. August - Pinocchio - tried, and it didn’t work, and now he’s giving up. I’ve been trying too, but I don’t know what else to show her. You would know; you’re the one that made the prophecy about Emma breaking the curse.”

Mr. Gold nodded. “I did, and she will. How, exactly, I don’t know; prophecies don’t quite work that way. But I do know it will be soon.”

“You do?” he asked hopefully.

Mr. Gold smiled. “Oh, yes; quite soon. Mr. Booth’s efforts were more effective than he thinks. She just needs than final push, now, but I’m not quite sure what it will be. Have a little patience, lad, and be careful; this is Emma’s battle, not one for children.”

“But I can help!”

Mr. Gold frowned, and he looked suddenly sad. But his tone was firm when he said, “If you know Bae’s story, Henry, you know that I don’t approve of children fighting the battles of adults. I also have an agreement with Emma that I will not involve you in this any more than you already are; and if you know who I am, you also know that I never violate my agreements. Go home, lad, and let Emma do what she was born to do.”

Henry frowned. That didn’t sound right to him; he was the very first member of Operation Cobra. He was the one who brought Emma to Storybrooke, and he was supposed to help her believe. But Mr. Gold, whatever else he was, was a grown-up, and grown-ups always thought kids needed protecting; there wasn’t any use arguing with him about this. “OK. You’re sure it will be soon?”

Mr. Gold nodded again, smiled, and stood up. “I can feel it. Run along now; it would be best if Regina did not catch word you’d been to see me.”

That was certainly true. Henry stood up and put on his backpack. “Right. Thank you, Mr. Gold.”

He smiled. “You’re welcome, Henry.”

The song was just ending as the reached the front of the shop. Henry smiled. “Bye, Bae!”

“Bye, Henry.”

Quickly glancing around, Henry looked to see if anyone saw him leaving Mr. Gold’s shop; he didn’t think anyone had. He headed to Emma’s.

Chapter Text

At the sound of the doorbell, Rumplestiltskin looked up from his wheel. He’d been expecting this since one of his contacts called him from the hospital. Regina had done something to Henry (likely intending it for Emma), and now she was coming to him to fix it. As a precaution, he told Bae to stay where he was. If Regina made a move, he’d have a clear path out of the house through the dining room and kitchen.

Fortunately for all involved, Regina was not alone. “Emma. Regina. I take it something has happened?”

“We need your help, Gold,” Emma replied without preamble, “Regina poisoned Henry.”

“It’s not poison. It’s a curse, and it was meant for you,” Regina corrected, but made no other denials.

“I see. Come into my office.”

As requested, Bae was still in his seat, but watching them over his laptop. “I need to speak to Sheriff Swan and Mayor Mills in private, Bae; we’ll be in my office.”

“OK,” Bae replied warily.

“After you,” Rumplestiltskin invited the women; he knew better than to turn his back on Regina.

Once the office door was firmly closed behind him, he said, “Tell me everything.”

Emma did, only stopping when Rumplestiltskin asked Regina, “A cursed apple? Now where did you get such a thing in this world?”

“By sacrificing the last bit of magic I had left,” Regina replied sullenly.

“So you made magic from magic. All magic comes with a price, you know.”

“Henry shouldn’t have to pay it.”

“No, you should. But alas, we are where we are.” And Rumplestiltskin had a choice to make. It had always been his original plan for Emma to retrieve the True Love potion from Maleficent; it was meant to be her final trial as the Savior, the one that would cement her belief and standing as a hero (as well as serve Rumplestiltskin’s own ends). But finding Bae had changed things. They’d been unable to destroy the dagger, but it remained inert as long as this world did not have magic; by altering his plan and leaving the potion where it was, Rumplestiltskin could still keep his word to Bae.

But then the puppet had told him that there were other sources of magic in this world, among them the Apprentice and a man presumably able to make powerful potions. With the curse broken, these sources might be able to enter Storybrooke and could pose a threat (the Apprentice, in particular, had no love for Rumplestiltskin). Could he risk it?

Rumplestiltskin knew that if he followed his original plan, Bae would be angry. He’d be angry anyway, when he remembered, but to pair that with bringing magic into a world he’d fled to in order to escape it… it would feel like yet another betrayal. If Rumplestiltskin wanted a prayer of earning his boy’s forgiveness, Bae could not wake up in a world with magic.

Perhaps he could simply delay his plan, keeping the magic in reserve should the need arise? Maleficent certainly wasn’t going anywhere; she lacked the ability to change forms in this world. And then there was Regina; once the Curse broke, she’d be easier to contain without her magic. If he brought the magic, only Rumplestiltskin himself would be able to imprison her, and he’d really rather not be bothered with that. Kill her, yes - he’d do that with relish - but the heroes wouldn’t ask for that; they’d ask for a prison, and a humane one at that. So would Bae. Rumplestiltskin wasn’t interested.

For Bae’s good opinion, Rumplestiltskin had taken a risk with the Sheriff’s election; he’d do the same now. If he needed the magic, it would be there; but until then, he would focus on making it up to Bae. That had always been his desire, after all; he’d just never thought it would be possible. He had been given an extraordinary opportunity, and he’d never been one to let an opportunity go to waste.

“So what do we do?” Emma asked.

“Not we, dearie - you. You must save your son.”

“How?”

“There is one kind of magic that is greater than any other, Miss Swan, great enough to break any curse. It is, in fact, the only magic that can break a sleeping curse.”

“True Love’s Kiss,” Regina said quietly, beginning to understand.

“True Love’s Kiss?” Emma scoffed, “Henry is ten; he doesn’t have a true love.”

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. “Contrary to popular belief, Miss Swan, True Love does not have to be romantic in nature. Do you love your son?”

“Of course!”

“And he loves you?”

“Yes,” she said, less forcefully.

“Then it is your only chance.”

“I should do it,” Regina objected. “He’s my son, and unlike you, I actually know how to do magic.”

“You did this to him,” Emma snarled.

“Then let me undo it!” Regina shouted, almost pleading.

“No, it has to be Emma,” Rumplestiltskin scolded. “You’re incapable of this, Regina; you have a hole in your heart - price of the curse. And don’t say you weren’t warned.” She said nothing. “And now, I’ve a warning for you, Miss Swan; Regina is right about one thing. This is magic of the highest order, and not as simple as it seems. To perform it, you must not only love Henry with everything in you, you must believe, truly believe, that you can save him. Do you?”

“I…”

“That’s a ‘no’,” Regina muttered scathingly.

“Can’t you show me anything? Show me proof?”

“Ah, but it’s not really belief if you’re relying on proof, is it? And that was never my role to play in any case.”

“No,” Emma said, cutting off whatever sharp retort Regina had been about to offer, “It was Henry’s. And August’s.”

“That biker?” Regina asked.

“Pinocchio,” Rumplestiltskin explained.

The shock on Regina’s face was more amusing than Rumplestiltskin should probably have found it given the situation. He didn’t wish Henry any harm, after all, and sleeping curses had side effects that Regina had never bothered to familiarize herself with; she’d done more harm to her boy than she knew.

“I’m going to see to August,” Emma declared.

“And while you waste time with a puppet, Henry’s life is at stake,” Regina shot back.

Emma rounded on her, “He was right about Henry and about you. He was trying to show me something, and I refused to see it. I can do this if I can just see what it is he was trying to show me.”

“You may very well be right,” Rumplestiltskin offered.

“Well, I’m going to the hospital to be with Henry,” Regina sneered.

“Fine; just don’t poison anyone else before I get there.”

XxXxXxX

Rumple had been right; Regina’s kiss didn’t work.

She’d tried it just as the Hatter made his presence known and again after he’d left. It wasn’t fair; she was his mother! She was the one who had loved him after Snow’s brat had given him up. If he didn’t make it out of this, there would be hell to pay.

“What the hell is taking so long?” Regina asked the empty room. She received no answer.

XxXxXxX

Emma assaulted the door to August’s room with a series of frantic knocks. “August, please open up! I know you’re in there - open the door!”

“Coming,” he said, but it took him far longer than it should have to finally open the door, and he looked like he was in pain.

“I need your help. I need you to…” she trailed off. There was something very wrong with his left hand. His entire arm was hanging limply, and the hand itself appeared to be… made of wood?

“What is that? What’s happening to you?”

“You can see it now,” he said softly, then closed his eyes. “You believe.”

“Yeah, yeah, I do, but how- how do I stop this?”

“Break the curse,” he said fervently.

“I’ll try, I promise, but I gotta save Henry first, and I need your help-”

He shook his head. “No, you don’t.”

“Yeah, I do! This is all too much! I - I just talked to the Evil Queen and Rumplestiltskin about magic, about how I have to truly believe I can save Henry with a kiss - a kiss! I can’t do it, August, I can’t - no normal person can.”

He smiled faintly. “Luckily for us, you’re not normal. You can save Henry; you can save all of us. And if you can see this,” he lifted up his wooden hand slowly, “Then you do believe. You can do it, Emma.”

“Come with me,” she asked tearfully. “I need you to help me believe.”

He shook his head again. “I’ll only slow you down. I can’t… move very fast right now. And you don’t need me anyway. I may have promised to guide you, but really it’s Henry.” He looked away and added quietly, “It was always going to be Henry.”

It was always going to be Henry. She smiled though her tears. “You’re right; it was. I’ll break the curse after I save him. You’re going to be OK.” She reached out and took his wooden hand, squeezing it.

He smiled again and looked down at her hand on his. It didn’t squeeze back. “I know, Emma.”

XxXxXxX

As promised, Regina was with Henry when Emma arrived. “Took you long enough,” she complained. “What did the puppet need to show you anyway?”

“Something only believers can see. And I saw it, so it’s time to do this; step aside.”

“It was ‘time’ hours ago,” she said, but still, she backed up so Emma could stand beside Henry.

He was so pale, lying there helpless. The heart monitor was beeping steadily, but even Regina didn’t know how long that would last. He needed her. Carefully, Emma bent down, her lips just above Henry’s forehead. “I love you, Henry,” she whispered, then kissed him.

Nothing happened.

She kissed him again, and again he did not wake up. “Henry? Henry, you need to wake up!”

“It’s not working,” Regina said accusingly. “You’re supposed to be the one! You have to save him!”

Emma looked up. “I- you try it, Regina. You know about magic.”

“I can’t!” Regina yelled. “Rumple was right! I tried before you got here. It has to be you!”

“I- I can’t… the book - get Henry’s Book!” Regina glanced at the pile of his things on the table across the room. “Mary Margaret woke David from his coma by reading him the Book. Maybe we have to read it to him before this will work,” Emma explained.

“Rumple didn’t say anything about that.”

“Well, I’m under the impression that Rumplestiltskin likes to keep things to himself, and I know Gold does. Do you have any better ideas?”

“No,” she replied after a long moment, and hurried over to the table.

Emma pulled a chair up to Henry’s bed and held out a hand for the Book. Regina looked mistrustful, but handed it over; she probably didn’t want to be the one reading Henry stories about the Evil Queen. Emma settled on Henry’s right side, while Regina found a chair and settled on his left.

Emma opened the book and began to read. “Once upon a time, in a corner of the Enchanted Forest known as the Frontlands, there lived a poor spinner and his son…”

XxXxXxX

The threads of the curse were pulled more taunt than piano wire. Regina’s control had slipped so completely that Rumplestiltskin could actually feel the web of magic that bound them, and he knew it was only a matter of hours before it broke. He sent Bae off to bed with some reluctance, not knowing if the curse would break while he was asleep, and what effect it would have; but he couldn’t exactly keep the boy up all night either.

“Good night, Bae.”

Bae hugged him, as he did every night. “Good night, Papa.”

Rumplestiltskin hugged back, perhaps tighter than he meant. “I love you.” Please let this not be the last time you believe it.

“Love you too.”

Rumplestiltskin returned to his wheel; he would not be sleeping tonight.

XxXxXxX

What is taking so long?

An hour passed, and then another, and still the curse did not break. There was nothing August could do but wait. What’s wrong? Why isn’t this working? He almost called Rumplestiltskin, but decided against it. He almost called Emma but did not want to interrupt whatever she was doing. As dawn approached, he almost called Blue but knew that wouldn’t really help.

What do I do? There’s nothing I can do. Please, Emma, hurry up.

Another wave of that terrible, burning pain, and his right forearm turned to wood. Why? Why won’t it stop? I told Emma the truth. I’m trying to help as much as I can! I couldn’t go with her; I would have slowed her down. What else can I do?

He didn’t know, but if doing nothing amounted to sitting and waiting to die - and it seemed that it did - he had to try something. He didn’t have enough mobility to operate his motorcycle or even put on his jacket, so he simply pulled down his sleeves as far as he could and began to make his way towards the hospital, one halting, agonized step at a time.

XxXxXxX

Dawn broke, and still the curse did not. Rumplestiltskin had just started the coffee maker and was about to head upstairs to wake Bae when he heard a knock on the kitchen door. He looked up and saw a woman standing there in. She was dressed poorly, her long, brown hair uncombed. She looked like…

No.

No, it can’t be.

Belle.

As if under an enchantment himself, Rumplestiltskin slowly limped to the glass doors and unlocked them with shaking hands. He opened them.

“Excuse me. Are you Mr. Gold?” It was her voice.

Stunned, he nodded hesitantly. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

“I was, uh, I was told to- to find you and tell you that Regina locked me up. Does- does that mean anything to you?”

He reached out and gripped her shoulder. “You’re real. You’re alive,” he said reverently. “She did this to you.” It wasn’t Maurice. It was Regina. It was always Regina!

“I was told you’d protect me,” she said, confused.

“Oh, yes,” he vowed, embracing her desperately, “Yes, I’ll protect you.”

She shook her head, pulling away. “I’m- I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

“No,” he replied tearfully. “But you will.” He led her to the kitchen table. “Wait right here, just a moment. I want you to meet someone.”

XxXxXxX

They were near the end of the Book when the alarms on Henry’s heart monitor started screaming. Whale rushed in, followed by a nurse, and Emma and Regina were pushed aside while they began resuscitation procedures.

“Henry? Henry!” Regina screamed.

We’re out of time. I have to save him now.

“Move!” Emma told the nurse.

“Ma’am,” she protested, “Please stay back.”

“I know how to save him! Let me do it!”

“Ma’am-”

“Let her do it!” Regina ordered.

Giving the Mayor a startled glance, the nurse moved back just a bit; it was enough for Emma to push her aside and lean over Henry. “Sheriff-” Whale began, annoyed, but Emma ignored him.

Please work… please work… please work…

She kissed him.

A rush of something exploded from them, and he sat up with a gasp, the heart monitors returning to their steady, rhythmic beep.

Henry smiled. “You saved me.”

“You did it,” Regina said, her voice tense with disbelief.

After a moment, a crowd of people started wandering in to the room. “Henry?” Emma asked. “What’s going on?”

Henry sat up. “The curse - I think you broke it.” He was grinning.

“That was True Love’s Kiss,” Mother Superior said, her lips curving into a smile.

“No, no!” Regina objected.

Mother Superior turned to her. “If I were you, Your Majesty, I’d find a place to hide.”

Regina grabbed Henry’s hand, tears in her eyes. “Henry, no matter what you think - no matter what anyone else tells you - I do love you.” Then she turned, and ran.

XxXxXxX

August was just passing the last building before the hospital when he saw a flash of light and felt something in the air. He looked around frantically, and saw a morning jogger stop suddenly, looking bewildered. The mailman did the same, and anyone else on the street.

She did it. She broke it.

He looked down at his left hand, still wood, and just as lifeless as it had been a minute ago. It didn’t work. He collapsed, falling against the brick wall to his right.

Before the day Tamara has taken the Dragon’s potion from him, it had been years since August had cried (really cried - movies didn’t count, especially Pixar movies). It required more emotional honesty than he usually allowed himself.

But today, just like that day, August cried.

XxXxXxX

“Bae,” Rumplestiltskin said, “This is Belle. Belle, this is my son, Bae.”

“Nice to meet you,” Bae said, offering his hand.

Belle took it, but looked at Rumplestiltskin. “Belle? Is that my name?”

“Yes,” he answered. “Don’t worry; you will both remember everything very soon.”

“Both?” Bae asked.

There was a flash of light, and a wave of power swept over them, burning up the strained threads of the curse in an instant.

Belle looked at him, stunned. “Rumplestiltskin?”

Rumplestiltskin smiled, nodding, “Yes. Bae-”

Bae had dropped Belle’s hand and backed up a step, horror overtaking his expression.

“Bae-” Rumplestiltskin began again, reaching out for his boy.

Bae ran.

End Part 1