The usual disclaimers apply: OUAT and its characters are not mine, I'm just using them for fun, not profit. The story is entirely AU with many of the events since the curse broke being changed. Let's just say after I got over being upset that certain things in the series didn't turn out the way I hoped and I decided to do an AU. This is aimed at primarily at Dearies, Rumbelle fans and maybe Swanfire (I haven't decided yet if they will get back together, but Bae does not die.) May contain some LGBT pairing later on so if that offends do not read. Malcom Wallace is my own creation as well as a few others mentioned in the story. Please review
(For those who started the read my other OUAT fic, I promise I would get back to it now that my heart break is resolving).
Aftermath
Part 1: Waking Up
Chapter 1
A land without magic?
The Enchanted Forest, some 300 years ago.
The man in black waited in the clearing. The night was dark with no moon and thick clouds veiling the starlight, making the path to the meeting place difficult to see. It didn't bother him though, darkness and shadows were ever his constant companions. And it would not deter the one he waited for either. For a being who thought of herself as belonging to the light, she was becoming quite adept at dealing in the shadow. He suppose she thought herself a martyr to her cause. He didn't care as long as he got what he wanted in the end.
He didn't have to wait long before a small, blue ball of light came floating from the woods. It stopped about two feet in front of him before transforming into a small, winged female wearing an elaborate (and somewhat ridiculous-he thought-blue dress).
"I have come, portal jumper," she said, trying her best to sound imperious.
"You have quite the talent for stating the obvious Reul Ghorm." He watched her bristle, enjoying her irritation.
"What is it you want?" she asked.
"Funny, I was going to ask you that…I understand you have a problem. A dark problem?"
"What do you know of this?" she asked trying desperately to hide her irritation and something else? Fear? Yes… fear that he knew her deep, dark, dirty secret. Fear that everyone else would find out. Well she didn't need to know that he knew…not yet anyway.
"I know that this Dark One isn't like the others. For one thing he's managed to hang on to his soul somehow and the dagger, unlike those before him who became some Lord's thrall. And the other thing he's clever, this one."
Reul Ghorm said nothing. She tightened her lips in disapproval but waited for him to continue.
"You need a way to be rid of him yes? But you can't kill him unless you get the dagger and your magic against his…well. So why not send him away? Someplace where he will be powerless to hurt others, unable to interfere in your wish granting and the realm goes back to what it was?"
"How?" she asked.
"With this." He held out her hand for her to see. Lying on the center was a perfect, crystalline bean.
"But how will we get him to use it?" She asked. Fool fairy never bothered to ask why he was helping her or where he would send the Dark One. She never could look beyond her own short sighted problems.
"Oh, I'm sure you would find a way," he said, bowing slightly as he surrendered the bean. "As always, it was a pleasure doing business with you."
Storybrooke, 28 years post curse.
Rumplestillskin headed towards the well. Even with his limp slowing his pace, Belle still lingered behind, her haze of confusion serving as her own handicap.
"Wait," she called after him.
"No, no…it isn't very far," he replied without slowing.
"Rumplestillskin, wait!"
The sound of his name coming from her lips stopped him in his tracks almost as if she held his dagger and commanded him to stop.
"I…I remember."
He turned slowly to face her, dreading what he would see in those lovely blue eyes. Anger, resentment or disgust maybe?
"I love you," she said. For a moment he doubted the words he heard. But one look at her face, her eyes and he knew he had heard true.
"Yes," he said smiling. It was good to smile, a real smile-not the mocking, cynical mask he had grown accustomed to- but one of pure joy. "And I love you". How long had he waited to say that, waited to hold her as he did now? Too long and then he had lost her…lost her and never believed that he would ever have this moment. But she was here, and she loved him. And he would never, ever let anyone take her from him. Which made what he had to do all the more important.
"But hey, there'll be time for that. Right now there is something I must do."
With that he turned and headed towards the well. Belle watched as he pulled a vial of glowing purple from his pocket and dropped it over the stone edge.
"What is this?" she asked.
"The waters below have the power to restore that which has been lost. I'm restoring something I need. Magic is coming."
Manhattan, present day.
Neal Cassidy looked at the woman who was asleep in his bed, her long, chocolate brown limbs tangled in his sheets, chest rising and falling rhythmically. She looked peaceful now, very different from the night before, when she had shown up at his doorstep in tears. Silently he got up, grabbing his clothes off the floor and tiptoed into his living room. Once he had pulled on his jeans and wrinkled t-shirt, he crossed to the kitchen sink and splashed his face with cold water. There was left over coffee in the coffee maker which he poured into a cup and shoved in the microwave to heat while he swallowed some aspirin. Taste didn't matter. He just needed the caffeine, needed to get his head clear so he could figure out what the hell he was doing letting Tamara back in his life.
He had been seventeen when they had first met, and part of a gang of thieves that ironically had named themselves the 'Lost Boys'. It had been their idea to break into the old mansion. The only people who lived there was a crazy old man and his adopted daughter. Easy pickings. Or so they thought. No one had realized that the crazy old man owned a gun and was more that adept at using it. And unfortunately Neal had been the one to get caught at the end of the barrel. The last thing he remembered seeing before passing out from the blood loss was the backs of his so called 'brothers' as they left him to die.
When he came to, he found himself lying in a bed in a lavish room. Someone had removed his blood soaked clothing and dressed his wound. He had tried to sit up but the burning pain in his side compelled him to do otherwise.
"You shouldn't do that," a voice said, "you might burst the stitches."
He had tried to speak then but his throat was dry and he could only manage a strangled whisper. She understood him though and gave a bright smile before replying.
"I'm Tamara and this," she said nodding her head to the open doorway as a man dressed all in black stepped through "is my father."
"My name is Malcom Wallace, son…rest now, you're safe."
"You look… different here." Belle said after studying Rumple for some time. She was curled up on his sofa, her legs tucked under her. She wore an oversized sweat shirt and matching pants: his clothes courtesy the curse, though he had never worn them, and her hair, still damp from the shower hung loose over her shoulders. She looked smaller and more fragile than he remembered. And there was something about her now, a hesitation and uncertainty that was a marked contrast from the brave, bold woman he remembered.
Gods. What had Regina done to her? What had she put her through?
Whatever she did, we will repay threefold, sang the demon, lusty for blood.
He pushed the thought from his mind. There would be time for vengeance later. Right now he wanted to focus on Belle. He didn't want to hear the demon's voice now.
"Are you…is your curse…"
"No." He said, cutting her off. His curse was definitely not broken. It had just been dormant. And then he had brought the magic of the Enchanted Forest into this world and woken it up. "It's just different here…"
"Because this is a land without magic?"
"Not exactly without…there had to be magic here for the curse to be sustained in the first place, but it's different, not nearly as potent or easy to access, so my curse was…suppressed."
"But then you brought magic here? Why?"
He winced at the edge of horror he heard in her voice. He got up and walked over to the window, turning his back towards her. He could not bear to look at her eyes, look at the disbelief and hurt that he would choose his curse again. It reminded him of the last time he had seen her, when she had tried to break his curse, when it had almost worked…but she hadn't known what it would cost him to let it break. She never knew the reason he took on the curse. Why he needed it then, and if the visions were right, why he needed it now more than ever. He had promised her that he would tell his story once upon a time, if she came back after he let her go to town. And after he had lost her, not a single day had gone by without him regretting not telling her. Now he had the chance. To tell her. To bear his soul and make amends. Make her understand his terrible rage. But he could not make the words come. They lay buried under his shame and guilt.
Coward. It is what I am. What I will always be. How could she understand? How could she love him after what he did? He let go his own son, he choose this blackness over him. How could she love him if she knew?
No one could ever love you, the demon taunted. And he felt himself believing it. And falling into blackness…
"Rumple," Belle said gently. She was standing next to him now, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. Her turned to face her then and felt her hands travel up to his face, stroking his cheek, brushing his hair. And somehow the darkness lifted. For one moment…one sweet moment he could no longer hear that black, vile voice that plagued his soul.
"I'm sorry…you don't have to explain anything. I love you." Her lips found his and she kissed him, gently at first and then deeper. He found himself returning the kiss, pulling her closer to him, tangling his fingers in her hair. And he felt the darkness retreating, scattering against her light. It was he that broke the embrace first. He had too. Before…
"Belle…I can't," he said, pushing her back gently.
She only nodded. Taking her hand, he led her towards the couch. Sitting beside her he took a deep breath and started talking.
"I promised you a story a long time ago. A story about before…when I was just an ordinary man. And about my son. It's time you had your story."
The old man sat reading by the fire place. He sipped a glass of wine slowly, savoring the taste. An old vintage, full bodied and bold. In all the worlds and all the wines he tasted, this one was his favorite. Dark red and said to contain Lycan blood. Better than the taste was what it did for him, body and soul.
"Master Wallace," Allister, his serving man interrupted.
"Yes, what is it?"
"This came for you, from an unknown sender."
The other man handed him a sealed white envelope with no return address. Inside was a postcard with a picture of a clock tower on it. Storybrooke, Maine was printed at the top. Underneath, scrawled in black was one word: Broken.
TBC