Arising
Chapter 1: Memorial Day
A/N. This is a follow-up to my story "Unbroken" and a companion piece to "Saved by Zero" (which is a follow-up to "Bae's Day" and "Bae's Day 2011"). Reading "Unbroken" first should help to clarify some references here. As always, thanks to everyone who reads this story and especially everyone who comments upon it. Ownership of Once Upon a Time belongs to Kitsis & Horowitz and the series' amazing writers and actors and not me, because most of the time, the Universe knows what it's doing. But Gunnora and Ranulf are mine.
I want to use Gold's first name here, to show the developing relationship between him, Archie and Mother Superior, but since we don't know what it is, I'm using ****. We've been promised a name will be revealed in Season 2 (or as Rumple would say, "I want his name! We had a deal! I need his name!") so when that happens, I'll fill in the blanks. (If I were to take a wild guess at his name, though, I'd guess. . . Cain.)
If the Storybrooke Daily Mirror still existed, perhaps its headline for today would be "Arising from the Ashes," and a small column on page two or three would report something along the lines of "Prominent Citizen Recovers from Vicious Assault." For although its citizens really don't need this information—gossip having already spread the news—they do need the encouragement, as they tackle the work of rebuilding their community, both physically and emotionally, in this second month in the year 1 AR (After Regina).
And the information is encouraging—to some citizens, anyway. Those who do not agree it's a good thing that Mr. Gold has awakened from his coma and is expected to make a full recovery are either preparing, along with James and Snow, to return to the land they call home, just as soon as they have assisted their neighbors in the rebuilding. . .
Or they fear that Gold's recovery means a return to his money-grubbing, power-grabbing ways. A few citizens speculate that if he's permitted to return to power—as though it's possible to stop him—they will have a Regina II on their hands, only worse.
These people have not met Belle.
Nor have they seen the look in Gold's eyes when she walks into his makeshift hospital room in the convent, when she holds his hand as he undergoes treatment, when she greets him with a kiss as he awakes, when she fires up his imagination as she reports James' plans for the future.
It's that look that worries Belle.
She's unusually silent as she joins Mother Superior and Sister Bernadette in the dining room for breakfast. Normally she's a fount of questions and observations; there's so much to learn about this land, her active presence in it being less than three months old. She's a woman in love, not only with a man but with a world, and discoveries, even unpleasant ones, excite her. But today she swirls her spoon in her oatmeal and leans on one arm, the burdens of her mind heavy. Her breakfast companions give her space.
At last she pushes the bowl away and addresses them. "Archie says he's doing fine physically, but he seems so dispirited."
The nuns understand that by "he" she is referring to Gold. Bernadette offers, "A fight like that one is bound to take an emotional toll. It killed twenty-three of us and destroyed half the town."
"Remember, too," Mother Superior urges, "we old war horses take a bit longer to heal." She smiles wryly.
Belle raises her eyebrows. She hasn't thought of Rumplestiltskin as old, not in body, and certainly not in spirit. Even in his human form, even when he had to walk with a cane, he seemed far from aged. She calculates hastily—if, as she's been told, she was locked away in Regina's secret dungeon for twenty-eight years, her present age is 53. She echoes, "'Old war horses'! Mother Superior, you must be exaggerating. I wouldn't imagine you to be more than 35, and **** in his mid-fifties, at most."
Mother Superior sips her coffee before answering. "My years here and in the old land combined, I'm about 205 years old, I think. And Rumplestiltskin is approaching 300." She gives Belle a moment to accept this shocking information. "Remember, Belle, he and Bernadette and I are not—were not human until very recently."
Bernadette shrugs. "I'm just a baby, really. I turned 144 last month."
Belle can't help but burst out in a laugh, and Bernadette is pleased. But then Belle grows serious again. "It's the way he looks at me. . . . I love him, Mother Superior, but I don't know if I can be with him. I wonder if it's good for us to be together."
"What are you talking about?" Bernadette objects. "He adores you."
Mother Superior nods. "He needs you, Belle. I've known him a long time, both as Rumplestiltskin and as **** Gold, and I've never seen him as happy as he is when he's with you. You bring him a new life."
"I know he loves me, and that will never change. But when he looks at me, it's with guilt in his eyes. I'm a constant reminder of the mistakes he's made. It's not good for him, and it's certainly not good for me."
"It's right that he should feel guilt," Mother Superior answers gently. "He's done horrible things, often in full realization of the consequences. If he doesn't admit that, he can never redeem himself. But there's nothing so horrible that God can't forgive it. Rumplestiltskin's soul will be restored, Belle; all he has to do is ask."
"He needs human forgiveness too. Otherwise he'll continue to push himself away from everyone. If I'm going to be with him, I need to understand him, and he needs to understand me, and words aren't enough for that. I've tried telling him what those twenty-eight years in Regina's dungeon did to me, but I just can't bring myself to tell him the whole truth, just as he can't bring himself to tell me about his past. We're afraid of hurting each other again, I guess."
"Confession is God's gift to us. It enables us to face the truth and forgive ourselves. I can arrange for a priest to come and hear your confession, Belle, but to be honest, I don't think Rumplestiltskin is ready to give his."
"No," Belle admits. "Not until he knows for sure I've forgiven him. Until he feels I've forgiven him. I tell him and tell him, but he doesn't feel it. He won't let go, and the guilt will drive me away from him." She raises her face hopefully. "Mother Superior, I know you intend to give up your magic, but do you suppose God would forgive you if you used it one last time, for the sake of love?"
Mother Superior frowns. "The healing Rumplestiltskin needs must come from God, not from magic."
"But it has to start with me." Belle grasps the nun's hands. "Please, Mother Superior, give us this chance. It may be the only way he and I can find peace."
Mother Superior hesitates, and Sister Bernadette nearly drops her spoon, for she can't recall a time that her boss ever reversed a decision.
Belle continues, "Please, Mother Superior, our love depends on this. Just as you helped me before, I know you can help me now. Show us the past."
After a long silence, Mother Superior offers this: "I'll pray about it."
Mother Superior pauses on the threshold of the room in which Gold is recuperating. She's brought tea, which she knows will please him, and a Bible, which she's not sure will, but she knows it can help him. Inside the bedroom, Dr. Hopper is completing an examination of his patient; Mother Superior turns away to give them privacy, but Hopper's words give her pause.
"Mr. Gold, I'm going to be frank with you. Your body's healing, but you're not helping it much. You're not eating enough, and you're putting minimal effort into your physical therapy. Uh uh, don't argue with me. I have the proof right here." Archie taps a medical chart. "If I didn't know you better, I'd say you're lazy. But I do know you better, so I say, I think you don't really want to recover."
"That's ridi—"
"There's a lovely garden in the back of the convent. Vegetables and flowers both. Do you know that, Mr. Gold? I doubt if you do, because I doubt if you've been out there. There's a swing on the front porch; did you know that? The porch is just a few yards from this room, but have you been out there to sit and enjoy the fresh air and the sun? Sunlight contains lithium, and lithium produces a sense of well-being in the human body. But you wouldn't know that, would you, Mr. Gold, because you won't get up off your ass and go outside. We've brought you a wheelchair; you won't use it. All right, maybe it's a matter of pride, so we brought you your cane, but you won't leave this room, will you?"
Archie slaps the chart against the bedpost, sending a metallic ring throughout the room. "Don't give me pain as an excuse. I've seen you walk from one end of this town to the other in the pouring rain, gritting your teeth because your knee couldn't take the punishment, but you did it because it suited your purpose. I know how strong your will is, Mr. Gold. So I'm saying to you now, you just don't want to heal. In fact, I think you've got it in mind to hasten your own demise. Now, why that is, I have a few guesses, but I can't do any more for you until you start talking to me."
He waits, but Gold says nothing. Around the open door, Mother Superior can see the patient, propped up in bed, returning Hopper's anger glare for glare, but otherwise motionless.
Archie collects his medical instruments and snaps his bag shut. "No more painkillers. I'll be back when they tell me you've got up off your ass." He starts to leave, but throws a parting shot: "Like the guy in the movie says, 'Either get busy living or get busy dying.' Let me know which one you decide it's gonna be so I won't waste my time. I've got patients who want to get well."
Archie pushes through the doorway, offering Mother Superior a wink and a whisper. "Let's see if a little tough love does the old buzzard any good."
Bernadette has an idea. It's been five weeks since he awoke, yet no one besides Belle has come to visit Mr. Gold. Visitors, she believes, would do him good, so she walks through the town, extending invitations.
Snow takes her aside, admitting that she and James have talked about visiting Gold, but with the rebuilding, and with re-establishing their own family, they've just been so. . . and then Snow sighs and admits the truth. "It's not that we haven't thought about him, and it's not that we don't appreciate what he did in the war, but, Bernie, he's Rumplestiltskin. A lot of us feel that he's the cause of all our troubles. You can't say we're wrong to feel that way."
Bernadette shrugs her shoulders. It's the truth.
"We're not ready to make nice yet. With Regina it's a little easier, because she's so different now. She doesn't remember the past, so she's like a child now, and that makes it easier to forgive her. Besides, he could see the future: he must've known the damage he was causing. Do you understand, Bernie?"
Bernadette must agree. She too has found it easier to accept Regina, who now calls herself Gina, whose memories have been wiped clean, who thinks she is 16 again and has been asking for her father and her favorite steed. When Regina's physical health permits, she will move in with a foster family in Storybrooke. She will attend high school, perhaps college. She will have a new life. Her past will remain a secret from her.
But Rumplestiltskin remembers his crimes, every single one of them, and that makes it harder for his neighbors to forget his past. Perhaps, with his actions during the war, he has earned back some respect, even begrudging admiration, but he has not earned forgiveness.
For one thing, he's never asked for it.
So Snow and James do not come to the convent, nor Ruby, who is immersed in grief for Granny, who perished in the war; nor August, nor Jefferson, nor anyone else. Only Emma and Henry come, and they come for Mr. Gold's sake, for they never knew Rumplestiltskin.
Emma stands beside the patient's bed, her hands stuffed into her jeans pockets, shifting from foot to foot. Gold understands; her discomfort is not so much with him as with the situation; it makes her uncomfortable to see him incapacitated. Henry brings a sack of gumdrops and a load of questions about Fairytale Land. Without hesitation the boy wiggles a seat for himself onto Gold's bed and launches into a nonstop monologue. He pauses long enough to remember his manners: "So how are you doin', Mr. Gold?"
Before the patient can answer, Henry has another question. "Or do you want us to call you Rumplestiltskin?" And that sets off another train of questions.
Emma shrugs her shoulders apologetically, but Gold smiles and accepts a gumdrop. Since Henry doesn't seem ready to slow down anytime soon, Emma strikes up a conversation with Belle. They are war buddies now; someday, they will become friends.
When Henry finally takes a breath, Emma says, "Well, we'd better be getting back. There's still a lot of work to do. But uh, I have a couple of favors to ask, if you don't mind. I mean, I know I still owe you one."
Gold sits up a little straighter. "I think not, Ms. Swan. I consider that favor paid when you. . . provided me accommodations."
She laughs awkwardly. "Yeah, that was weird. Well, speaking of which, sort of, I have this magic now and I don't know anything about using it. Not sure I want to."
"Which is why it belongs with you."
"Yeah, well, you did say you'd teach me how to use it."
Gold looks down at his hands. "I did, yes, but you would be better served if Mother Superior teaches you."
Emma purses her lips. "So you're backing out of our deal?"
He sputters, "No, no, but there's a better teacher for you than me."
She crosses her arms and glares down at him. "You're backing out of our deal. 'That's not what I do, Ms. Swan.' Didn't you say that to me? 'Contracts are the backbone of our society.' Something like that. You're backing out. Huh!"
Belle has to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing aloud.
Flustered, Gold raises his hands in surrender. "Very well, Ms. Swan, I'll honor our agreement."
Emma drops her glare and unfolds her arms. "Fine. Soon as you're up and about, we'll start. Now here's the other thing: we'll be done with the clean up in another couple of weeks, and so we need to rebuild, right? A lot of our buildings got destroyed. We could just put everything back the way it was, but we figure, maybe we need to plan for the future. Storybrooke could grow now, bring in new business, even tourists. Do we want to grow, that's the first thing we need to figure out, and if we do, how can we do it smart? We need a city planner, and I hear you had that job before. So, once we start to reorganize the town government, a lot of us figure you're the best candidate for the position. Seems like you did a pretty good job the first time around."
"Ms. Swan, I believe you're trying to manipulate me with flattery."
"OK. Yeah, sure, flattery doesn't work with you. So how about plain old bribery?" She winks at Belle. "Try this on for size: the **** Gold Public Library. Or Rumplestiltskin Public Library, if you like that better."
Gold's face darkens. "An amusing little joke. "
"What—no—no joke. I mean it."
"Public buildings are named for those a town wishes to honor. People who should be remembered." He draws in a deep breath, then dismisses his guests, politely. "Thank you for visiting, Sheriff. And thank you for the candy, Henry. Now if you'll excuse me, I find I'm rather tired."
Belle and Emma exchange a helpless glance. As she escorts Emma and Henry to the porch, Belle hugs them and begs them to return soon. The visit helped, she's sure of it, despite the seeming outcome.
When she returns to his room, she finds he's turned to the wall. He won't talk to her. When she brings his lunch, he pretends to be asleep.
It's Memorial Day, according to the calendar. Storybrooke never celebrated that particular holiday: since for 28 years, nobody in Storybrooke remembered the past, Memorial Day lacked meaning for them.
This year is a little different. While there will be no parades or speeches, and the work of cleaning up after the destruction of the war will continue today, James has called for five minutes of silent reflection at noon to remember—everything. Not just the people they've lost in the war, but the lives they've regained by the breaking of the curse. Mother Superior thinks five minutes is much too short a time for that task, but it's a beginning. Instinctively, the community, except for Belle and Clark, who have remained at the convent to tend the wounded, comes together at the library.
James, Henry, Emma and Snow stand at the entrance to the library. They are a family in progress. Like their neighbors, they don't know what the future holds: Emma and Henry have indicated their preference for remaining in Storybrooke, while James and Snow want to return to Fairytale Land. Not even Rumplestiltskin can predict whether this family will remain together, but for now, they are united. And for now, James has assumed a de facto leadership role. Quietly, he thanks the crowd for coming and for their hard work in restoring the town. He assures them things are better and will continue to improve. Some of the folks believe him; others are too numb to imagine a future. Then the clock tolls twelve and James asks for remembrance.
Several of the townsfolk come to Mother Superior's side. She takes their hands and offers a whispered prayer, asking for strength, forgiveness and God's peace. As they echo her "amen," her hands start to shake. No, they're tingling—with magic.
The memorial service concluded, the townsfolk disperse, putting back on their work gloves, picking up their shovels and hammers.
And Mother Superior knows she must get to work too. She's had her answer.
A flicker of hope lights his eyes for the first time since the war. He promptly squelches it, but not in time: they've both seen it. Belle and Mother Superior share a small smile: Rumplestiltskin thinks this can work, and who knows magic better than Rumplestiltskin?
"You don't know what you're asking, Belle."
She seizes his hands. "I have to understand, and you won't tell me. And you have to understand what happened to me."
"We can't change what's already happened. You must realize that."
"But we can change the now."
He stares hard at her, but he can't stare her down. "I've done unspeakable things."
"There's nothing you can show me that will make me stop loving you." She has tried to imagine the worst he could be capable of, but she can't imagine herself ever hating him. She gives his hands a shake as if to wake him up. "But this guilt between us will drive me away. You won't talk to me, you won't talk to Archie. So show me and let me understand."
He relents a little. "Tomorrow. I'm tired."
"Today."
"Are you sure, Belle? Are you completely sure?"
She realizes what he's asking is "Are you sure you can love me despite the truth?" She tucks her face into his shoulder. "I'm sure."
He kisses the top of her head. "All right."
"Archie's waiting in the garden." Belle stands and brings forward a wheelchair. He shakes his head at it in disgust and grabs his old familiar cane, and with her arm supporting him, he leaves his bedroom for the first time since he nearly died.