Killian Jones, or Captain Hook, made his way through the trees. He'd checked on Alice, watching from a distance as she walked and chatted with Robin. When Robin pulled his smiling daughter into her arms, he turned away, leaving the girls to be together. His daughter was happy: that was all that mattered. At least he could check in and assure himself of that. What a comfort that was.

And now, he was on his way to check on the man who'd made his daughter's happiness possible. Rumplestiltskin had surprised him to say the least. For centuries, he'd hated the man, wanted nothing more than to regale the other pirates about how he'd finally skinned him a crocodile. Then his precious Alice had come into his life, and he began to understand that revenge could never make him happy. Oh, he still hated the bloody crocodile, but revenge meant nothing to him any more: all he wanted was to be able to hold his child again.

Time and love had dulled the thirst for revenge, then, but the anger at the Dark One had flared right back into life when he heard that the sorcerer was in this realm. For many months, he didn't see him, but he felt that Rumplestiltskin was up to no good, as he always had been. The others may have been fooled into thinking he was a good man, that he'd changed, but he'd never believe it. The crocodile couldn't change, and finding him sniffing around Alice's cottage, and learning what he wanted from her, had infuriated him. How dared the man try to foist his burden on his precious child? He wouldn't allow it: he wouldn't allow the Dark One to take someone else he loved from him.

Then, hearing what Rumplestiltskin had actually done had amazed him. The crocodile he'd known had never done anything out of the goodness of his heart: he'd never done a damn thing that didn't benefit him somehow, but this man…maybe he had changed.

Alice sent him a letter explaining what had happened. He'd written back immediately, wanting more information, wanting to be sure his Starfish was really safe, wanting her to tell him again what had happened. She'd told him again, insisted it was all true and that Rumplestiltskin really had spared her that burden. He had to believe it then: the crocodile had given up his chance at freedom and a reunion with his love, so that his daughter could find happiness of her own with Robin. He had to believe the man had changed then.

Offering friendship was surprisingly easy to do after that, especially when he saw the man, watching over Alice, fondness, but also resignation in his eyes. He'd given up his own happiness for hers. What greater sacrifice could anyone make for another? And he didn't even know Alice; yet he'd done it because, in the end, he was a good man: he had changed.

So, every time he came to check on Alice, he also stopped in to check on Rumplestiltskin. The man spent most of his time spinning. Occasionally, he heard of a potential Guardian and Alice went with him to perform a simple test: to see if the candidate had any connection to his dagger. Invariably, though, it was a dead end, and every time he heard about the failure, his heart was pained for the man who'd become his friend. He wished he could help, could do something for him, so that he could go back to the wife he yearned to be with. All he could really do, though, was be a friend: he hoped that was enough.

Rumplestiltskin usually sat and spun in the forest behind Alice's cottage. She spent part of every day with him, staying close, making sure he wasn't alone with his Darkness. He always found the sorcerer here when he wasn't away performing one of his tests.

He didn't know where the man lived, if he lived anywhere. He suspected he knew no home, not any more. His home was with her, and he couldn't get to her, might never get to her. Oh, but he hoped he would. He hoped some day he could help him get back to his wife.

He never knew how he'd find him, in what frame of mind he'd be. Sometimes he just sat manically spinning; sometimes he'd be lucid and able to talk for a bit. He wasn't sure what kind of day today would be.

Rumplestiltskin wasn't spinning when he came upon him. He was reading. Hook didn't want to go any nearer, lest he disturb him, but the man sensed his presence and looked up.

'Captain.' He didn't seem put out by his arrival. He seemed calm today, present.

'Rumplestiltskin. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt.'

'It's no matter.'

'I hope nothing's wrong?'

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. He smiled a bit. 'A letter, from my son.' He held up the parchment he'd been reading.

'Your son?' Immediately, he thought of Baelfire, the boy he'd left on Neverland so long ago, abandoned in the hands of that demon Pan.

'Gideon,' Rumplestiltskin said.

'You had another son?'

Rumplestiltskin looked up at him. The spirit of Baelfire was very present in that moment, and they both knew it. Both of them were connected to the boy through Milah, and there was so much unsaid between them. Must it always remain so? If they were friends, couldn't they talk about it all without wanting to kill each other?

'Another son, yes,' Rumplestiltskin said, drawing him out of his thoughts.

'And where is he?' Hook asked, catching onto the subject of this other son, so as to avoid the subject of Baelfire, and what he'd done. He should really just raise the subject, but this friendship was still finding its feet. He couldn't keep quiet forever, though.

'Studying,' Rumplestiltskin said. 'Has been for some time now. He's a fine scholar, clever, like his mother.'

Rumplestiltskin flourished his hand and a square, flattish object appeared. He offered it, and Hook went closer and took it. It was a painting in a small frame.

'It's a very lifelike image,' he said, fascinated, as he looked at the young man, smiling warmly, brown eyes twinkling. 'Never saw a painting like this.'

'It's called a photograph,' Rumplestiltskin said. 'Belle took it, before he started his studies. He's older now. He was eighteen in this picture.'

'I see. He looks like you.'

'He has my eyes,' Rumplestiltskin agreed, 'but his mother's smile and cheekbones, and her good heart.'

Hook handed back the photograph and looked at the man.

'He must have gotten some of that from you,' he said, and meant it.

Rumplestiltskin looked up at him for a moment, but seemed to realise he was being genuine. He gestured to a stool near at hand and Hook took the invitation and sat.

'So, your…your son is doing well?' he asked.

'Yes, though he misses his mother.'

Hook nodded. That was understandable. 'Does he know where you are; what happened, what you did?'

'He doesn't need to be burdened with that. He believes I'm still searching for the Guardian: that's all he needs to know.'

'I'm sure he'd want to be with you.'

'He deserves to live his own life.'

'He should know how selfless you were: he'd be proud of you, I'm sure.'

Rumplestiltskin sent him a level look. 'I don't want him to know. My first son saw me like this: I don't want Gideon to.'

'Look—'

'Don't argue with me on this,' Rumplestiltskin snapped.

Hook held his hand up. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. I just… I know how heartbreaking it is to be separated from your child.'

'Gideon is safe and happy. That's all I can ask for. And you don't need to tell me about being separated from a child: I spent centuries searching for one, and then lost him anyway.'

'Baelfire,' Hook breathed. It was time to address this: he knew that now. A new story couldn't begin without closing the old book.

Rumplestiltskin looked at him again and then nodded.

'I…I knew him,' Hook said softly.

'I know you did.'

'You do?'

'The other you and I talked about it many years ago…well, many years ago for me.'

'Did he tell you that I…that I gave him up to Peter Pan?' Shame filled him at those words. Abandoning a child to Peter Pan… Now that he had his own child, it struck him how horrific what he'd done was.

'Yes, he told me,' Rumplestiltskin said calmly. 'He said he left him with Pan because he refused to stay with him.'

'Yes,' Hook said, 'and I'm truly sorry, Rumplestiltskin. Now that I'm a father myself, I know how precious a child is. It was a terrible thing I did. And I'm sorry I taunted you on my ship all those years ago, when you…when you came looking for Milah,' he added, because it was time to talk all of this out. 'I shouldn't have goaded you into fighting, not when you had a child at home. You made the right choice that day in walking away. I only wish I'd made the right choice with Alice. Instead of going home to her, I let myself be talked into a duel, and that's how my heart got poisoned. I should have understood that there was no shame in walking away, especially with a child to care for.

'I am sorry, Rumplestiltskin, for everything.'

The sorcerer had been looking at him, taking in his distress, and Hook could see that he knew he was being sincere. A look of understanding and kindness came into his eyes, and Hook felt relieved.

'I accept your apology,' Rumplestiltskin said quietly, 'and I said this to your other self too, but I'm sorry about Milah. There's no excuse for what I did, but I am sorry.'

Hook took a breath. 'I accept your apology, Rumplestiltskin. I'm glad we had this talk. I've wanted to, for a while now, but I wasn't sure how to broach it.' He was glad he had now. They had to move on from the past. Accepting each other's apologies for their past encounters seemed the right thing, given where they were in their lives now. Hook felt like he could fully put his hatred for the Dark One in the past now, especially having heard him say he was sorry. Hook believed he truly meant that.

'There's something else you should know,' the sorcerer said, 'something I didn't tell the other you.'

'Oh? What's that?'

'Many years ago, I went with Emma Swan to the Underworld to rescue the other you. Milah was there.'

'She was?' Hook's heart began to beat hard.

'Yes, she was. She had unfinished business with Bae.'

'She…she regretted much in relation to him,' Hook said. 'She regretted leaving him.' He wanted Rumplestiltskin to know that. She'd been unhappy, but she wasn't evil, no matter what he'd thought.

Rumplestiltskin nodded. 'Yes, I know.'

'Did she get to talk to him?'

'No.'

Hook's heart dropped. 'I see.'

'Bae had already moved on. He and I worked things out before he died, and he didn't have much of a relationship with his mother to have unfinished business with her.'

Hook nodded. Milah had always said that the boy had been closer with his father. She loved him, but she didn't know how to be close with him like that. Her bitterness about her life came between them, and the boy had always loved his father more.

'That isn't why she never got to see him, though,' Rumplestiltskin said quietly.

Hook looked at him. 'Then why?'

Rumplestiltskin met his gaze. 'Because of me.'

Hook's eyes narrowed. 'What did you do?' He instinctively knew it was something terrible, something befitting the man Rumplestiltskin used to be, and, though he knew he'd changed, Hook couldn't push down the anger.

'I pushed her into the River of Lost Souls,' Rumplestiltskin said.

Hook jumped up from the stool. All children heard stories of the Underworld: all children learned of the terrible fate that met any who entered the River of Lost Souls. The souls were truly lost. They could never move on, never deal with their unfinished business. It was a fate worse than death: it was eternal damnation.

'Why would you do that to her? Why wouldn't you let her see her son?' Hook was furious and shaking, and the centuries-old pain of losing Milah flared back to life again, so that tears trickled down his cheeks.

'I wanted her to see him,' Rumplestiltskin said. 'She was helping us get to the other you so that she'd have a chance to move on and see him. Then Hades told me he'd kill Emma and her family if I didn't get rid of Milah and our way out of the Underworld. I chose to sacrifice her to save the rest of us. I regret my actions to this day: I just couldn't see another way.'

Hook stared at him for a long moment. He could hear the remorse in his voice, and that actually did much to dispel his fury, though tears still trickled down his cheeks.

'You…you do regret it, don't you?' he asked, sitting back down slowly, heavily.

'Yes,' Rumplestiltskin said, looking away, his hands fluttering about the spinning wheel. Hook thought it was a sign of nervousness, and it made him seem more human, somehow. He found his anger ebbing away. What Rumplestiltskin had done wasn't right, but faced with others being hurt, he might have made a similar choice. The gods knew he'd done some terrible things in attempt to save his own skin: handing Bae over to Pan was one of them, for sure.

'Why didn't you tell the other me?' he asked.

'Because I was only starting to change then,' the sorcerer said, 'and I wasn't ready to admit to every terrible thing I did. You may tell him, if you see him again one day. Tell him I'm sorry I lied that day. Tell him I lied because I was ashamed, not that it excuses it, but I did regret it the moment it was done.'

'I believe you,' Hook said, and Rumplestiltskin looked at him. 'I think I understand why you didn't tell him. I'm not sure if he and I would react the same way, but I…I thank you for telling me, at least. I understand you were in a difficult position, and it was a choice between saving living people or saving Milah, who was already dead.'

'I should've found a way to save them all, but desperate people do desperate things. I know that all too well.'

'So do I,' Hook said quietly. 'I've done many terrible things in my time too. I've tried to be better for Alice.'

'And I for Belle and Gideon, and for myself.' Rumplestiltskin sighed softly. 'I should've been something very different from what I became.'

'Oh? What's that?'

'I was meant to be a Saviour.'

'Like Emma Swan?'

Rumplestiltskin nodded.

'Then how did you become the Dark One?'

'My mother, to protect her power, took away mine shortly after I was born. It left a hole inside me that I spent years trying to fill. I took on the Darkness, and that seemed to fill it, but then I couldn't let it go.'

'Because you were scared to feel that hole inside you.'

'Yes.'

Hook nodded. 'I used rum to try to fill the hole in me after I lost my Alice, but it wasn't a cure: it was just more poison.'

'Yes,' Rumplestiltskin said, like he knew how that felt. 'The Darkness was never the answer: love was.'

'And you found that,' Hook said, smiling.

'Yes, I did,' Rumplestiltskin agreed quietly, looking off into the distance.

He was obviously thinking about his wife, and Hook's own thoughts went back to Milah. He felt a pang at the thought of her trapped forever. There must be a way to save her, surely…

'Can I ask you something?' he asked the sorcerer.

'Please,' Rumplestiltskin replied, turning his attention back to him.

'You know much more about magic than I do, so I wondered…do you think there might be a way to save Milah?'

'I don't know,' Rumplestiltskin said truthfully. 'I've never found a way.'

'You've looked?' This surprised Hook.

'On our quest to find a way to be rid of the dagger, my wife and I searched for a way to do that too. We didn't find anything, but that doesn't mean there isn't a way. It may simply be that there's no way to do it here.'

'You mean one has to die?'

'I think so, and then ask the gods for help, perhaps. I don't know, though. I suspect the power to do it is only granted to the gods, but that's beyond my knowledge.'

'Will you ask when you get there?'

Rumplestiltskin looked at him, a sad, sort of knowing look.

'Oh, we both know you'll get there long before I do, Captain,' he said quietly, as if he'd accepted it.

Hook's heart stuttered. 'No,' he said: 'no, you can't give up, Rumplestiltskin,' he insisted. 'I said if I could repay you for what you did for Alice, I would. I don't know how I can do that, but I'm not going to let you just give up.'

Rumplestiltskin smiled a little more warmly. 'You're a good man, Killian Jones.'

'Everyone should get to be with the one they love: that's all,' Hook said in reply.

'Including you and your daughter,' Rumplestiltskin said. 'I'm sorry I can't heal your heart.'

Hook shook his head. 'It's Dark magic, like you said. You'd pay the price for it, or Alice or I would. I will find the way, though, if I have to kill Gothel to do it.'

'Don't be rash,' Rumplestiltskin advised. 'Don't darken your own heart to save it, Killian, because you'd still be damning it just the same.'

Hook nodded, sighing. 'I know you're right, and at least Alice is safe, and happy, thanks to you. If Gothel ever tried to hurt her, though…'

'Gothel won't get anywhere near her,' Rumplestiltskin promised, and Hook knew he meant that he'd protect her from the witch.

'Thank you,' he said. Well, how strange to have the Dark One on their side!

The sorcerer shook his head. 'It's no matter. It's the least I can do to thank her for her company, for helping me not forget who I am.'

'I won't let you forget either,' Hook said.

Rumplestiltskin nodded. 'Thank you for that. You know, my wife would have liked your Alice.'

Hook smiled. 'Yeah?'

'Yes. Belle was adventurous, kind, loving, like your daughter. I think they'd have been friends.'

'Since you told me the truth about Milah, I should tell you the truth too,' Hook said then. 'I met your wife, in the queen's tower.'

'And tried to trick her into telling you about the dagger, and knocked her out when she wouldn't?'

'Yes. So, she told you.'

'She did, but thank you for telling me too.'

'There's more, though,' Hook said. 'After I knocked her out, I was going to kill her. I would have, only Regina stopped me.'

Rumplestiltskin nodded. 'I appreciate you telling me.'

'When you get back to her, will you tell her I'm sorry?'

'I'm sure she knows, but, yes, I'll tell her.'

'Thank you.' And Hook smiled. 'You know, you and I, talking like this, I never thought it would be possible.'

Rumplestiltskin's lips quirked into a smile. 'You have no idea how surprised I was when you offered me your friendship.'

Hook smiled again. 'Believe me, I was surprised to find myself offering it,' he said truthfully, 'but we've both changed, and I meant what I said: if I can ever help you, I will.'

Rumplestiltskin nodded. 'I know you will.' And he shook Hook's offered hand once again.

0

Detective Rogers let himself into the evidence room and saw his partner slumped over over the long table. His heart stuttered. Weaver had been acting oddly, and Rogers hadn't forgotten seeing their killer slumped over a table in a similar way.

He approached carefully. Close to, he saw his partner's hand curled around something. Oh, it was the teacup he'd been fixing when he spoke about his wife. Perhaps it was hers. There was a piece missing, though: there was a chip in the rim. Too bad.

Rogers put a hand on his partner's shoulder, increasing the pressure as he called his name.

Weaver jolted awake, and Rogers sent up a silent prayer of thanks that he wasn't dealing with another corpse. Cops saw death all the time, but seeing Weaver slumped over like that, in much the way their killer had been, had unsettled him, and, truth to tell, he didn't want anything to happen to the man.

Weaver, sensing his presence, leaned away, obviously not wanting to be touched, and Rogers backed off, raising his hands.

'Sorry, mate, I didn't mean to startle you,' he said quietly.

Weaver rubbed his hands over his face, which Rogers suddenly noticed was ashen. The greyness of it made the red-rimmed eyes stand out. Weaver…Weaver had been crying.

'What's wrong?' he asked, concerned.

Weaver shook his head and looked away. Rogers realised he was trying to pull himself together. He looked down at the man's hands and saw that he was stroking the little teacup. He seemed to find it soothing.

Rogers pulled out a stool, willing to sit with his partner, even if the man didn't want to talk.

'I've done something terrible,' Weaver said quietly, after a long moment of quiet, his voice gravelly from crying.

Rogers looked up at his face. Weaver couldn't look at him.

'What could be so terrible?' he asked softly.

'I stole something snd put a life at risk. I don't know if I can fix it.'

Rogers leaned over the table. 'Hey, mate, whatever it is, I'll help you fix it. Look, I…I wasn't sure at first, but I know now that you're a good man. You've been trying to protect me, Tilly, Victoria Belfrey's daughter… You've a good heart, beneath that hard shell.'

Weaver didn't say anything, but Rogers wasn't about to let him wallow.

'Get up, I'm taking you for breakfast. Roni's does a good breakfast menu.'

'I can't go to Roni's,' Weaver said, 'not right now at least. She won't be happy to see me, not until I can find a way to make this right.'

Rogers frowned. 'Is Roni's the life you put at risk?'

Weaver shook his head. 'Someone she loves deeply. He's sick: she had the cure he needed, and I stole it.'

'Right…' Yes, that did sound bad…but maybe Weaver had a good reason? Maybe his wife needed this medicine too?

'I took it because I'm a selfish bastard who only thinks of himself,' Weaver spat. 'Roni was right: I haven't changed a bit.'

'Roni knew you before we became partners, right?'

'Yes.'

'What were you like then?'

'Selfish, cold hearted, devious, manipulative. I'm still those things.' And he looked pretty pissed with himself, Rogers saw.

Rogers knew better, though. 'Nah, cold hearted people don't get this upset when they do something bad,' he said. 'Selfish people don't care about others and try to protect them. Ok, maybe I'd have to agree about the devious and manipulative bits, but those things come in damn handy in detective work, mate.' And he grinned.

Weaver spluttered a laugh, surprising himself, Rogers guessed.

'Hey, come on, mate, I saw you yesterday: you were scared, and I've never seen you like that before. If you took something from Roni out of fear, I'm sure she'll forgive you.'

'I don't know. It's not the first time I've hurt her.'

'Well, maybe you can make it the last, and maybe you can find a way to make amends.'

Weaver looked at him. After a long moment, he nodded. 'I do want to try.'

Rogers nodded. 'Good. Roni will forgive you: she's a good woman.'

'Yes, she is,' Weaver agreed, and smiled a little.

'Right, come on, let's go,' Rogers ordered.

'Go where?' Weaver asked, confused.

'I'm taking you for breakfast,' Rogers said, smiling.

'I told you, I can't—'

'No worries, mate: I know other places to eat besides Roni's.'

'We've got work to do, Rogers,' Weaver said, gesturing around him.

'Well, if I know you, you haven't eaten, and you didn't even go home last night, did you?'

Weaver made a face.

Yeah, mhm. Come on, Weaver, no arguments. I'm treating you to breakfast.'

Weaver stood tiredly. 'I'm really not that hungry, but I suppose it'll beat staring at these four walls for a bit.'

'Exactly,' Rogers agreed. 'I know a place that does the best pancakes.'

Weaver nodded. He stood by the table for a moment, looking at the teacup. After a few seconds, he reached out and picked it up. He walked towards Rogers with it in his hand, obviously intending to take it with him to breakfast. Rogers didn't comment on the eccentricity.

0

Weaver looked around as they walked into the diner.

'Ever been here?' Rogers asked.

'No, but I knew a place very like it once,' Weaver returned.

'So, what do you want to eat?' Rogers asked, sliding into a booth.

'I told you, I'm not really hungry.' Weaver said, cradling the cup in his hands as he sat opposite him.

'Well, I'm gonna order enough for the two of us: maybe you'll develop an appetite.'

And Rogers ordered pancakes with bacon, syrup, and eggs. 'And two coffees, please.'

'Tea for me,' Weaver piped up.

'Alright, tea for my partner here.'

The waitress nodded and headed off. Rogers watched Weaver with the cup.

'It's pretty,' he said: 'too bad about the missing piece. Were you not able to find it?'

Weaver shook his head. 'It's meant to be chipped.'

'Oh? Go on: there's a story here.'

Weaver smiled a bit. 'Many years ago, I made a stupid joke that shocked this pretty girl I'd just met. She was holding this cup at the time and she was so shocked, it tumbled from her hands. That's how it got chipped. She was terribly sorry she'd broken something that belonged to me. I was touched that she cared so much. "It's just a cup," I said, but it ended up being a lot more than just a cup.'

'Let me guess: the pretty girl became your wife,' Rogers said, smiling.

'Indeed she did.' And Weaver smiled.

'So, what's significant about the cup? Why's it more than a cup?'

'It's…it's our talisman, in a way,' Weaver said, still gazing at the cup. 'It represents us, our marriage, our relationship. We had some very difficult times early on, mostly because I was a very different man then, a difficult man to love. I made life hard for both of us. And this cup represented our love: beautiful, delicate and fragile, flawed, but also…timeless, enduring.' He smiled at that. 'This little cup's had many knocks, but it's survived, even though it's had to be put back together, just like me and her.'

Rogers smiled. 'So it…connects you,' he said. 'That's really beautiful.' He leaned forward a bit. 'You know, I haven't forgotten I said I'd help you. I will help you get your wife back, Weaver. Do you know where she is? Did someone take her?'

'Time took her, Rogers,' Weaver said, looking into his eyes.

Rogers was taken aback. Oh… Well, that explained some things. Weaver, for as long as he'd known him, or known of him, was a workaholic, with little time for anything else. A wife had never seemed to fit, and now Rogers knew why.

'I'm sorry, Weaver,' he said softly. 'I can't imagine how difficult that must be. So when you…when you talk about getting back to her, you mean… Is-is that what Tilly shooting you was about? Were you trying to…?'

Weaver shook his head. 'That wasn't what that was about. Look, I wish I could explain everything to you, Rogers, but—'

'I wouldn't believe it if you told me, right?'

Weaver nodded.

'Mate, after the day I had yesterday, I might believe any number of strange things.'

'What do you mean?' Weaver sat up, interested now.

'I believe I know who killed our killer,' Rogers said quietly, 'and the manner of the killing should be physically impossible, unless it's some kind of…'

'Magic,' Weaver said, anticipating him, and he wasn't making fun. On the contrary, he was deadly serious.

Rogers tilted his head. 'Weaver, you know something, don't you? You know everything that's been going on in this town, don't you?'

'I know who our killer is,' Weaver said, 'and I know he's dangerous, and I know you should stay out of it, lad.'

'And let you walk into the firing line?'

Weaver looked at him, shocked.

Rogers nodded. 'Yeah, doesn't take a genius to figure out Baron Samdi's what had you scared yesterday. What does he have on you, Weaver? What does he want from you?'

'Listen, Rogers, there are things happening in this town that are beyond your ken, and it's better it stays that way for now,' Weaver said placatingly. 'I've done enough damage with Roni: I don't want you and Tilly getting hurt too.'

'And you think us being in the dark will keep us safe?'

Weaver sighed. 'Gods, I don't know. I'm feeling my way in the dark here. I try to do what's right, but I've gone wrong and now…' He swallowed hard, blinking.

'Hey.' Rogers put his hand on his arm and squeezed. 'Hey, Weaver, I know you're trying to do what's best.'

Weaver squeezed his eyes shut. 'Belle, sweetheart, please show me the way. I'm so lost, my love.'

Rogers gasped at the loving words, and the desperation in them.

Weaver opened his eyes suddenly, startled. Rogers realised he hadn't thought he'd spoken aloud. Weaver looked at the cup again, his jaw clenched, trying to pull himself together.

'She's more than your wife, isn't she, Weaver?' Rogers asked, after a moment of wondering whether he should or not. 'Your Belle: she's more than your wife. What is she to you? What connects you? Surely you can tell me that much?' He had to ask in the end, because the way Weaver had spoken to her…he'd never heard his voice sound like that, so full of love and trust, and something…something Rogers couldn't even begin to fathom.

'She's my True Love,' Weaver said, looking from the cup to him. 'Actually, to be specific, she's my Eternal Love, and she's waiting for me. She promised me on her deathbed that I'd find the way to be reunited with her.'

Rogers nodded. It sounded crazy, talk of Eternal Love, True Love, but he knew, somehow, it wasn't crazy. Because the thing Rogers hadn't been able to fathom in Weaver's voice: that was what it was…truth, eternity…forever. His soul and Belle's, they were bound together, like…like some sort of fairy tale romance. And that was bloody crazy…except it wasn't, and Rogers instinctively knew that his partner was more than he appeared, that he had always been someone else, something much more.

'And who are you, Weaver: who are you really?' he asked now, staring at his partner.

Weaver leaned forward. 'Rogers, I promise that when this is all over, everything will make senes, and you'll know who I am then. You once offered me friendship, and I've been doing my best here to pay you back for that.'

'So I'm…I'm someone else too?'

'Yes.'

'And Tilly?'

'Yes, and Roni, and Henry Mills, and Jacinda, and Lucy.'

'And this Samdi fellow, and Eloise?'

Weaver nodded.

'And…and magic exists?'

Weaver nodded again. 'And both Samdi and Eloise have it, so, please, lay low, Rogers. I can't have anything happening to my partner, to my friend.'

Rogers stared at him for a moment, trying to take it all in. He felt in his heart that Weaver was being honest with him, though.

'It's all real, then? I'm not mad to think that maybe magic was real and it's what killed Nick?'

'You're not mad,' Weaver said understandingly.

'Because I saw the ME's report on Nick, and, honestly, Weaver, magic was the only thing that made sense, but I thought maybe I was losing my mind.'

Weaver shook his head. 'No, lad, you're not losing your mind.'

Rogers nodded, taking a calming breath. 'What about you: do you have magic?'

Weaver shook his head again. 'Not here. If I did, it would be easier to protect you all.'

Rogers nodded solemnly. 'And can I ask one more thing?'

'Go ahead.'

'The real me: am I…am I a good man?'

Weaver smiled, a warm, genuine smile. 'Yes, you're a good man, one of the best I've ever known. I couldn't have anyone better for a partner.'

Rogers smiled. Funny how he used to think Weaver was a shady bastard, and now he'd follow him into hell if need be.

'Likewise, mate,' he said softly.

Weaver smiled. He looked at the cup again; then he raised it, closed his eyes, and kissed it fervently.

'What happened?' Rogers asked: 'why'd you do that?'

'To thank her, for showing me the way,' Weaver said.

'So, you're not feeling lost any more?'

Weaver shook his head.

'So, what are you going to do?'

'I'm gonna do what's right, and I'm gonna protect my family, no matter what it costs me,' Weaver said quietly.

Rogers nodded, knowing he meant it. 'Alright, but you have to eat breakfast first, mate. Heroes need to eat, you know.'

Weaver barked a laugh. 'Well, rookie, I suggest we both eat up then, eh?'

At that moment, the waitress arrived with their food, Rogers' coffee, and Weaver's tea.

A few minutes later, both men were tucking into their breakfast. Rogers looked up and found his partner watching him.

'Thank you, Rogers,' Weaver said quietly. 'Thanks for not letting me wallow.'

Rogers smiled. 'Well, what are friends for?' he asked, smiling again at Weaver's smile.

The end :)