I do not own any of the Once Upon a Time Characters
A Waking Moment
It had been years. Years of being alone, years of surviving – a cute girlfriend who he left to fend for herself in prison. He had loved her . . . right? Yes, he had. But he was a survivor, he had been ever since his father; Rumpelstiltskin, had dropped him through the hole. Surviving didn't include jail in it's contract. What was her name? Emma? Miss Swan . . . of course. If he didn't feel so guilty for letting her go, maybe he could've lived instead. But in his heart, he knew that he wasn't any different then his father – who he despised.
The boy, Baelfire, walks down the streets of New York, avoiding the gangs and grabbing a snack here and there. He had a new girlfriend, but it wasn't the same. What's with all the girlfriends? He scowls, spitting tobacco on the street. To fill the hole his father couldn't bother to fill. Curse that man. Curse life.
So while Rumpelstiltskin parties in the Enchanted Forest, stepping on people he turned into snails and steeling babies who needed their mothers, he was left to scavenge for food and pray that he kept his job another day. Jobs sucked. The bar sucked. But at least it was a relief, I mean, seriously, he had told many a drunk husband about his life story, sorcerer and all. They of course thought he was crazy until they snapped out of it, waking up with an awful hangover.
Bae turns a corner to find someone chasing him, and he takes off, throwing his hood above his head. If it was the police, he would surely be done with. Survive, survive Bae, run harder, what are you willing to do to live another day. He takes another turn, jumping over a fence just to see her scramble over behind him, landing on her feet and continuing. He knocks over a few trashcans and runs off again, his lungs ready to burst. Why wouldn't they give up? He falls to the ground with a bang as the person lands on his back, tearing at his clothes and flipping him over, ripping off the hood. He grimaces, closing his eyes. It's no use to fight. Surely this person had a gun.
"Neil?" a soft voice asks. His heart skips a beat, recognizing that voice. Emma. Emma Swan. He feels a sharp sting as her hand flies across his cheek, knocking his to his senses. "You left me!" she exclaims. He looks around, contemplating whether or not he should address this issue in the middle of the street, where people were wondering why a grown woman was sitting on his stomach with her arms crossed.
"That I did, Emma." She slaps him again and he winces, sitting up and forcing her off him.
"I thought you loved me!" he turns as she follows him.
"I did. Very much. But something happened, something awful that I swore to that bullheaded man not to speak about." They enter into a restaurant and she pays for a few drinks, knowing he was broke. She sits back down across from him, frowning, and waiting for an explanation before she beat his bloody ass.
"Why did you leave." He takes a drink and swallows, grimacing at the burn.
"I am sorry, Emma."
"Sorry isn't enough!" she yells. "I was arrested! Put in jail! What kind of man does that to his partner!"
"I didn't want to!" he exclaims desperately. "I tried not to but I had to." She looks at him, dryly.
"That isn't a good excuse." He leans back, crossing his legs. They had argued before when she had trusted him.
"Why are you here?" he asks. He hadn't wanted to leave her. But things happened . . . things changed. She sighs.
"Your father." His eyes shoot open.
"My . . . my father. You must be mistaken." He takes another drink. "He died." She leans over, taking the drink from his hand.
"Do you still love me?" she asks.
"Sadly . . . yes. Although I am in another relationship so don't get your hopes up." She glares at him.
"I need your help then. I made a deal, and I need you to help me keep it. If you do that, although I will never forgive you for what a horrid man you are, I will give you a second chance."
"I don't make deals." She grits her teeth.
"Does your father happen to be named Rumpelstiltskin?" He clenches his fists and leans across the table.
"Where did you learn that." She smirks.
"I made a deal with him. And if you don't help me, I am a dead woman." He stands.
"Take me to him. Take me to him now."
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Emma walks him down the street to his apartment, ignoring his endless talk about how dumb it is to make a deal with him and how she shouldn't have dragged him into this. She was being scolded like a child. He would pay for this later. When she dragged him to a street corner and reminded him of who she really was.
But what's with all the hate towards Mr. Gold? Who knew what he had done to drive his son into such a state of utter loathing towards him. But she was only a messenger, and one that would not return empty handed lest he beat the crap out of her. Of course, she was the younger, more fit person in the room; allowing her to run. But it would be better to die then to live paranoid about whether or not he would curse her. Mr. Gold wasn't that bad though, right? I mean, surely he would understand if she came back with the age old message, sorry, your son doesn't want to see you.
She opens the door, listening to it's slow and painful creak. She winces, seeing Mr. Gold eyes baring down at her.
"So? Where is he?" he asks, his voice gruff. She turns, looking behind her and gasping as she notices he is missing.
"I am sorry. I guess he ran off." She tries to play it cool, looking towards the window. She touches the dream catcher, feeling its soft netting.
"You know something." She jerks her hand away.
"What are you talking about?" He takes a step towards her, his eyes blazing.
"You know something. Now tell me!"
"You don't have magic here. You can't hurt me," she says, desperately trying to change his mind.
"I don't need magic to get information," he seethes. "What is it!" She steps back, out of his reach. "Tell me!" He yells. The door swings open and Neil walks in, frowning at his father. Rumple stares, gaping and horrified at being caught harassing this woman.
"Bae?" he asks timidly.
"Don't touch her." He backs away from the woman and see them glance at each other.
"Why did you come back?" Emma asks. "You didn't last time."
"Because I know what happens when people break deals with my father," he replies, never taking his eyes off him. "And I would rather you spend a lifetime in jail then expose you to that kind of torcher." She shivers, wondering what Neil had seen back in his life in the Enchanted Forest. "Now go, Emma." He points to the door. "I need to speak with my father." Seeing the necessity in his eyes, she walks out, shutting the door behind her.
Years of built up hurt turned into hate flood his system as he glares at the man. He notices his human stature. He no longer was covered in green scales with black nails and demon eyes. Now, he was just a man. He stands there, considering his options. It was hard, seeing that his father was just a man. Just like the father he had known before the darkness.
"Rumpelstiltskin," he seethes. "What brings you here." He buries the memories from his childhood, leaving anger to remain.
"Bae, I – " he stumbles on his words.
"I am not going to forgive you for what you did," he says. "You left me." For once, his father is quiet. He doesn't have a better answer, or even an apology. He just listens. Which is nice for once, because he had been forced to keep everything to himself for years. All the emotion, all the anger. It just grew. Better to take it out on the man who caused it. "You left me, alone. A fourteen year old boy, on the streets of New York, screaming his father's name. But you never came back." He waits for a response to fuel the words, but his father just watches. "Just imagine, a little boy, running from house to house asking for a place to stay because his father left him. And when you open those doors, all you get are people spitting at your feet and telling you to run off; that they don't want to care for a street rat, a piece of scum, a bastard. That was me." He walks into the living room and notices how his father follows, not bothering to sit. He stares at his lap, the anger somehow draining back into just hurt. "And now, you just about killed my girlfriend, just because of another deal." He pauses, blinking back . . . tears? He had only cried once since his father had left him. But he would pay, because that is what he had wanted ever since he had fallen through. For his father to pay, to feel hurt, to loath him back. To put him out of his – a hand touches his shoulder and he looks up, cursing as he feels more tears flow.
"I searched for you, for three hundred years," his father replies softly, the hurt evident in his voice. He tries to stand but his knees feel weak.
"I waited for you. But it's to late, father," he says, glancing back up. "You made your choice. Power is more important then anything." He stands, making his way to the door as his father watches, his eyes soft. Why are they soft? Why aren't they bulging and screaming and tearing the house apart! "Leave." His father looks down.
"Please Bae – "
"I said leave!" He limps towards the door just as a little boy runs in, Emma not far behind. She stops as she sees Neil staring down at his son . . . the one he never knew about.
"Who is that?" Bae asks, trying to hide the emotion in his voice. Two words send him reeling back on the couch, ignoring his father as he walks back in.
"Your son."
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Emma and Henry had left, again. He and his father sat awkwardly in the same room, both speechless. But when that little boy walked in, his eyes bright and shining, his heart fell. What had he done? Left his girlfriend pregnant in jail; therefore, abandoning his son. His son had never known him, he hadn't had a father. But wouldn't he be ashamed, to have a father who stole for a living. Henry was to young, to innocent to bare the weight of a sucky dad like him. But what was different? So what, his son returned a bit younger. But he had been alone, he had cried, he had probably been put in the system, all because he hadn't cared enough. His father had left him.
The anger replaced with hurt, a deep hurt, a hurt that could never be soothed caused his heart to do something he thought he could never do. He lets out a sob, covering his eyes, ashamed to be like this in front of his father. He felt so small again, his world having been torn apart in one day. His body trembles involuntarily, his energy drained and his body refusing to return to normal as he mourns. He hears his father stand, and expects him to either leave or rub his mistake in his face. Rumple had always warned him. A quick role in the hay could cause a lifetime of sorrow. Look at him now. A father, a son, and a boyfriend all in one day.
"Father," he croaks through the tears, keeping his face out of his sight and covered by his now shaking hands. He feels the couch bend as his father sits besides him and he feels his fingers through his hair. The touch, the innocent touch brings back memories. Everything he had before everything was lost.
"My beautiful Bae," Rumple says soothingly. "Please, please give me a chance to be your father again." He stiffens, fighting the urge to accept him again, to leave his heart gaping. But his eyes. His fathers deep, loving chocolate brown eyes staring at him – and the tears forming in them. His heart falls and he lets out another sob, feeling alone and it isn't long before he leans back into his fathers arm, laying his head on his shoulder. Rumple brings his other arm around his son, pulling him into his chest just like he had when he was young. He doesn't resist, sobbing into his fathers silk top as his fingers run there way across the back of this neck.
"I love you, son," Rumple repeats softly over and over into his ear.
"What have I done," he cries, his voice muffled by the silk. Rumple pulls him closer, whispering comforting words into his heartbroken son. He drops his cane, freeing his other hand and lifting his son's face to look at him.
"You have done nothing, Bae." He closes his eyes, quieting his sobs and quietly laying his head back down on his father's chest. He notices how it still smells of straw and the herbs they would pick in the garden before magic came. The most wonderful scent, one that he had craved and loved since infancy, when his father had held him until he slept."You have done nothing." He runs his hand up and down Bae's arm, knowing that as a child, it had always put him to sleep. Sleep was peace, it was comfort. And whether or not Bae would believe that he would lose his manhood by weeping to his father and allowing himself to fall asleep in his arms didn't matter. What mattered was that he had been found, and all the pent up emotions he had built during the three hundred years could finally be relieved. At least for now, he could enjoy this quiet moment, before his son pushed him away once more. The journey towards forgiveness would be a long road.