A/N: This was my Nealfire Exchange gift to Missielynne on Tumblr. She asked for a Papafire meta exploring the ups and downs of their relationship, and it turned into this monster of a character study. Intended as a meta, it reads more like a fic, especially the parts I embellished with missing details or fudged around with hazy timelines.


Baby Baelfire was raised in an unhappy home. Whatever love Milah had for him cooled to mere pitying affection by the time he was able to walk. She wasn't a bad mother, but if Bae had been able to understand what was going on, he would have wondered if it was his fault when Mama would leave him home alone at naptime or walk out when he would ask Papa to play with him. They never argued in front of him, but they were never happy for very long when they were in the same room.

Rumplestiltskin's love for his son was never in doubt, regardless of the judgments passed on his character by everyone who knew him. Little Bae could climb into his papa's lap whenever he wanted and be welcomed with a kiss or a hug, even when Papa was spinning.

As Bae grew, they managed a semblance of contentment, helped in large part by Rumple's genuinely warm greetings at coming home from a day at the market. He was always happy to see his family, and Milah tried her best not to take that happiness away from him. Inevitably, she would fail, giving in to the hurt she felt at being married to the village coward. She longed to get away, to start over somewhere nobody knew them, thinking that if they did so, things would go back to the way they were before the war turned her husband into a coward. But Rumple never wanted to move. He said it wouldn't make any difference, that they could be happy here, if she would just try. Sometimes, she wondered if he was just afraid.

And then came the day that Mama disappeared. Papa went out to look for her and came back alone, saying Mama was dead, but that he would never, ever leave Bae.

Bae cried himself to sleep in his papa's arms.

It was the one clear memory that Bae had from his early childhood, learning that Mama was dead and would never come home. After that, it was him and his papa against the world. The other village kids didn't care that Papa was a cripple. Most of them were too in awe that Bae had a father because theirs had died. The absence of Bae's mother balanced the scales of jealousy for those who would otherwise have been inclined to tease him. Bae might not have had many friends, but he didn't have any enemies either.

They lived a quiet life under the shadow of the never-ending Ogres War, knowing that one day Bae would be called to fight. They watched the older children be taken away, never to return again, thankful that Bae's time was still a long way off.

But the fighting age continued to drop as Bae got older. Bae could see the worry in Papa's eyes when he spun the wool to sell at the market. He was good at hiding it most of the time, but not when he spun. As Bae's fourteenth birthday approached, Papa's smiles became rarer, his silences more pronounced, and Bae would often catch him staring into the fire late at night or sitting at his spinning wheel long after he had run out of wool. He wasn't eating as much anymore either, although Bae believed him when he said he'd eaten while Bae was out playing.

Three days before his birthday, Bae learned what Rumplestiltskin had suspected for a while: the fighting age had been lowered yet again, and they were out of time. The village watched in horror as Morraine was forced onto a soldier's horse, her parents' protest magically strangled by the Dark One. Bae clung to Papa's side and tried to believe him when he promised they would figure something out, but he could feel how Papa trembled, how he held him tight against him, and how thin he'd become beneath his tunic.

Bae went to bed that night as worried about Papa as he was about what would happen to him on his birthday.

Running away in the middle of the night felt wrong to Bae, and ended in disaster. For the first time, Bae was confronted with the accusations that had haunted his father since he returned from the war. Even worse, the soldier implied that Papa was a liar, that Mama hadn't died, but left because Papa was a coward. The cowardliness didn't bother Bae so much as the lying. There was plenty to be afraid of or cautious about. But to lie about Mama and let Bae believe that his limp was earned in battle?

The next morning, Bae woke ready to accept what the law demanded of him, but Papa kept going on about some mad scheme the beggar who had helped them home the night before had told him. He was more himself than Bae had seen him in weeks, even daring an attempt at playful teasing. But when Bae asked if the accusations were true, if he had run and if Mama had left because of it, he shut down hard. He admitted to running, saying he had no choice, but he couldn't meet Bae's eyes when he confirmed that Mama was dead. It wasn't the answer he was looking for, but Bae couldn't bring himself to repeat the question. He remembered the humiliation Papa endured last night in order to protect him, and decided it didn't matter why Mama left when knowing wouldn't bring her back. Dead was dead, and Papa didn't deserve Bae's interrogations over something that happened years ago when he'd been looking out for him every day since.

The way the light came back into Papa's eyes when Bae agreed to help did little to assuage his uneasiness. It was wrong to run away, it was wrong to steal, but was it any better to die in a war that would never end?

He had plenty of time to think things over that night while he hid in the woods waiting for Papa to return. Plenty of time to worry that the fire they had set was a bad idea, that Papa would be hurt trying to get this impossible dagger. If the fire didn't get him, surely the soldiers would.

When Papa returned smelling of smoke, Bae begged him to come home with him, but Papa wasn't finished. Bae waited until dawn without sleeping, but Papa never came. It was his birthday now, and there was no more time.

When the soldiers came for him, he went without a fuss, worried about what might have happened to Papa. He was right to worry, because the man who came out of the woods to slaughter the soldiers was not his father. His papa didn't hide his face in a hood, couldn't walk without a staff for support, and most certainly didn't kill people. Instead of being afraid for his father, he was now afraid of him.

It took a few days for that fear to lessen enough for him to see that Papa was still in there somewhere, behind the gold skin and lizard eyes. Papa would never hurt Bae. In fact, he tried his best to make Bae happy. But the monster he had become never hesitated to terrorize anyone who got in the way of that happiness.

Papa's protection became oppressive, but Bae found hope when Papa made a deal with him. If Bae could find a way to save Papa from the dagger's power, then Papa would let the magic go. They could be a family again.

Finding a cure was difficult, though, and took longer than Bae expected. He almost gave up once, when he followed the sound of music to a campfire in the woods where other kids his age danced and had fun. Peter Pan was their leader, and he explained that the pipes he played could only be heard by those who felt unloved. At first, Bae wanted to deny it. He knew Papa loved him, or at least he did before the became the Dark One. Pan made Bae realize that he wasn't sure anymore, and the alternative to his sheltered life was tempting. He could be himself with Pan, make friends, and have fun. He wouldn't have to worry about Papa's darkness ever again.

Pan offered Baelfire a test to see if Papa still loved him. If Papa loved him and trusted Bae to make his own decisions, he would ask Bae what he wanted. It would be Bae's choice whether to stay with Pan and go to Neverland or to go home with Papa. Of course, if Papa didn't come looking for him, that would say something too.

But Papa did come, and Bae heard just enough as he danced around the campfire to know that Pan was offering Papa the deal. Next thing he knew, Papa was in front of him, but he didn't ask. He just whipped up some magic to take them home. The argued, and Bae stormed out, all hope for his father shattered, but surprised when Papa let him go.

When he finally crept home, Papa was at his spinning wheel, a long string of gold coiled beside him. They didn't speak, but the frantic creaking of the wheel slowed as Bae crawled into his bed. The reassuring rhythm lulled him to sleep, but as he drifted off, Bae imagined he could hear the muffled sound of Papa's tears.

He didn't have much hope left when he called on Ruel Ghorm, but he was desperate to find a cure that would stop Papa from hurting anyone else without killing him or locking him away where Bae couldn't be with him. The bean was a gift, she said, but Bae should have known better. Papa always said magic came with a price. Why should the bean be any different, just because it came from a good fairy?

In the months that followed, living alone on the streets of this strange magicless place called London, Baelfire grew to wish he'd never found that bean. He hated Papa for what he'd become and for breaking their deal, but he hated the bean more for ripping them apart. He was glad to be done with magic, but he missed Papa terribly.

Finding a new family with the Darlings helped. At least he was fed and cared for. But magic seemed to have cursed him to always be ripped away from any family he could ever belong to.

Neverland was a nightmare. He spent every night hoping Papa would come and rescue him, but he'd always fall asleep remembering how Papa had let him fall, choosing magic over family. In his more hopeful moments, he admitted that Papa was right to warn him away from Pan, and once he even wondered how Papa would even know where to look for him. There was no reason for him to think Baelfire was in Neverland. Magic could let him know, and yet still Papa never came. Bae stopped counting the days sometime in his second year on the island, when he realized that none of the boys were aging, particularly the smallest ones. Papa wasn't coming, so it was best to just forget the passage of time.

The memory of the last time he saw Papa never left him though, and he grew to hate it. He hated Papa, he hated Pan, he hated Neverland, and eventually he realized he'd have to make his own hope. He escaped and returned to the Land Without Magic, a place much different from the London he had left all those years ago. He grew up and was able to put the past behind him. He mourned the good man his father had been before the darkness, now certain he'd never see him again.

Except he did see him again. August told him that the Dark One had managed to bring an entire town of people over from the Enchanted Forest, and that Emma was destined to break the curse. He didn't expect Emma to seek him out after the way he had betrayed her, or that breaking the curse meant that his father would come looking for him. As far as he knew, that ship had sailed. If Papa hadn't found him by now, he likely wasn't even trying. Besides, Bae had spent centuries trapped in Neverland. There was no reason to believe that his father knew he was alive, or even cared. Neal wanted nothing to do with him. He was done with magic. He had a new life now, with a job and a fiance. But then there was Emma, unwittingly bringing his past back to haunt him in more ways than one.

Seeing Papa again was a shock. Logically, he should have known that the gold skin and lizard eyes couldn't follow him here, but seeing him so human and leaning on a cane threw Neal off balance. He kept his resolve to keep his father at a distance, even while trying to figure out a way to make amends to his own newly-discovered son, Henry. He was just beginning to think that this might work out, that his father would realize he wasn't welcome and return to Storybrooke, when Hook showed up.

For the first time since he turned 14, Neal was able to see Papa in the man slumped against the security gate with blood on his fingers from the stab wound in his chest. His cries of pain and fear cut through Neal's defenses like they were paper. He wasn't immortal here, had no magic to heal the poison working its way to his heart. Neal might not be ready to forgive him, but he wasn't about to let him die.

Of course, the only cure was back in Storybrooke, and the fastest way to get Papa there was to take Hook's ship, which only Neal knew how to sail. Like it or not, Papa was back in his life, and so was magic.

Watching the poison eat away at his father's strength was difficult. Standing guard in the pawnshop waiting for a crazy woman to come barging in with Papa's dagger to kill him before the poison did, Neal listened to Papa's deathbed goodbye to a girlfriend who didn't even remember him. As much as Neal wanted to deny what was happening, his father seemed sure of it. This time when the heartfelt apology came, Neal's defenses crumbled. His father loved him without expecting to be forgiven, and Neal couldn't deny him the comfort they both needed in what could be their final moments together.

King of loopholes that he was, Rumplestiltskin found a way to survive, manipulating Mary Margaret into using a double-ended candle to kill Cora and save him. Neal hung around town for a few days, getting to know his son and avoiding his father. He had yet to decide if the change he saw was really there, or if he was projecting his wishful thinking on the monster who wore his father's face. He knew his father watched him from a distance as he played at swords with Henry, and was grateful he never intruded. He couldn't fault him for it, now that Neal was learning what it meant to be a father, but it was so much easier to forget his presence than to deal with everything that lay between them.

Waking up to shouting and having to pull his father off a man cowering under his shoe was the last straw. If his father could pull the same "kiss my boot" crap that had been inflicted on him, then Papa really was gone. No excuses. No more second chances. Neal told himself that the look of hurt on his father's face when he told him to stay away from him and Henry was nothing more than the guilt of getting caught red-handed.

That was the last time he saw his father before falling through a portal with a bullet wound in his side. He woke in the Enchanted Forest surrounded by people he'd seen only in animated movies in the Land Without Magic. Apparently they had met Emma and were more than willing to help him get back to her and Henry.

He had never been to the Dark Castle before, but he knew it existed from Henry's storybook. Frankly, he wasn't surprised that his father had finally built the castle he'd offered to build for Bae back when he'd first become the Dark One. It would have been impressive if not for the complete ruin it had become since the Dark Curse ripped everyone away. Looters had made off with anything remotely valuable in sight, or else it had made the trip to the pawnshop in Storybrooke. Empty display racks lay discarded next to toppled pedestals. The only thing left of any interest to anyone was common enough to escape the notice of everyone except Neal.

The presence of Papa's old walking stick in the great hall of the Dark Castle was beyond impressive. That it had survived all this time and been kept close did much to ease Neal's opinion of his father as he traced the notches marking his growth as a boy. On a whim, he swung the stick around him as he'd seen done in martial arts movies, and was surprised anew when a hidden cabinet opened behind him. Inside was what Neal had been looking for: a way to check on Emma.

He'd never imagined he'd ever return to Neverland, but if Emma was there, then he needed to be there too. The island hadn't changed much in the years since he'd escaped, nor had Felix's ability to tie knots. It didn't take long for him to get away from Pan's second-in-command, only to run head-first into the worst person to sneak up on.


A/N: Part 2 coming soon (I'm sorry!)