"I know what your mother said. I overheard-"
"She doesn't know what she's talking about!" Milah interrupted him abruptly, the way she always did when he tried to say something she didn't like. "She doesn't know you, Rumple. Not the way I do."
"I can't blame her, what they say about my father is true." The young man hung his head, and Milah moved closer, lifting her hand to his cheek affectionately.
"We've been through this. You are not your father. You are not a coward." She assured him and he nodded. "You would never run away from your responsibilities."
"I just wish there was some way to prove it." He said emphatically, looking into her eyes. She was the only one who had ever ignored the rumors, the only one who had been willing to see past them. "Some way to make others see-"
"I see who you really are. I know you're a good man, a brave man, and I know that you're going to make a wonderful husband." She smiled, and wrapped her arms around his neck. "And I don't care what my mother says. She can't keep me from marrying you."
Milah ran her hand over her swollen belly affectionately, stirring her soup over the fire. Any day now, the midwife had told her, any day now. She could hardly believe that it was really happening; she and Rumple had been trying to have a child for so many years, she had nearly given up hope. She hated that he wasn't here to celebrate with her, and she worried about him on the warfront, but she knew that this was what he had always wanted. The chance to prove himself, to show everyone that he wasn't the coward they all believed him to be, and she wanted it for him.
She had always had faith in Rumple, through all the hard years they'd spent together, scraping to get by, saving their pennies for the future, she knew that everyone was wrong. She had believed in him, argued for him, defended him against anyone who spoke against him, even when he was too ashamed of his father's actions to do it for himself. Now they would finally see that he was the man she had always claimed him to be, and no one would be able to speak against him ever again. He would return a decorated war hero – because he would return, she had to believe that – and they would have the life they had dreamed of. A family, and a soldier's pension to ease their meagre existence, once the war was ended maybe they could even see the world, as they had spoken of. She smiled vaguely to herself, running her fingers over her belly wistfully, imagining their future together.
"Did you hear?" Her friend ran over to her, latching onto her arm as Milah made her way to market, shushing her newborn in his sling. "News from the front! There's a messenger in the square!" Her voice was equal parts excitement and anxiety. Like all the other woman of the village, her loved ones were fighting in the war too.
"Then we'd best go to the square, don't you think?" Milah breathed, saying a silent prayer. A messenger would not only have news of the war, but he might have a list of the dead. It was the news you both wanted and never wanted to receive; to know whether your loved one was alive or dead. Her friend nodded, clinging to her arm as they hurried to the square.
The crowd was noisy as they approached, and they had to push their way to the centre of the square, where a crier held a long list. That was it… the list of the dead. Her friend drew in a deep breath. "I'll go first." Milah nodded as she approached, telling the man the name of her brother. The messenger checked his list, and Milah wrapped her arm around her tightly, giving her a squeeze, until he shook his head.
"Not dead, not yet." Her friend breathed a sigh of relief, and hugged Milah tightly. Bolstering her courage, Milah stepped up.
"What of my husband, Rumplestiltskin?" She asked, her face fading as the man's expression darkened, and he barked with laughter.
"You're actually married to that coward? You poor woman," he snorted, not even bothering to check his list.
"How dare you!" Milah growled, incited by the same old rage that always bubbled up when someone undermined her husband. "He's gone to fight in the war, to fight for all of us, and still you call him a coward?!"
"I do, I do call him a coward, because as I heard it, the bloody wastrel took a hammer to his own leg so he'd be unable to fight. So he could go home without so much as a lick of fighting." He threw back at her, and Milah's rage was replaced with shock, and she took a trembling step back.
"It's… it's not true." She mumbled, at a loss. He had wanted this so badly, he wouldn't just throw it away now. "It can't be true." She said more loudly, looking up at the crowd, who were now whispering to one another like snakes hissing. "He wouldn't run away, he's not a coward!" She insisted, stepping back, she looked at her friend hopelessly, who only shook her head at her sadly, offering none of the comfort Milah had extended to her.
"We always knew as much, Milah, I'm sorry it's taken you so long to see it." She said instead, shaking her head, and looking down at her baby. "Pity that kind of thing flows in the blood."
Milah sucked in a deep breath, her anger bubbling up, she didn't even think before she drew her fist back, and the next thing she knew her friend was crying out in pain as blood trickled down her nose and chin. Even Milah was surprised by her own actions, but she was too proud to back down now, and held her chin up high as she turned away. "It's a lie." She insisted, sweeping out of the square with her back straight and her nose in the air. She knew Rumple, and she believed in him. He would not let her down. He would not let his son down.
Milah tried to ignore the whispers in the marketplace. She tried not to hear them, pretended, like she always did, that she didn't know they were about her. Acted like it didn't bother her that no one would talk to her anymore, that even those who did purchase her wool or sold her bread looked down their nose at her, and muttered under their breath. No one tried to hide how they felt about her, and could she blame them? She was the wife of the coward, the man who had run away from his duty, who wouldn't even fight to keep his own family safe.
She walked by a group of murmuring women without making eye contact with any of them, not wishing to invite their ire. She got it anyway, when she felt something hard impact her shoulder. Turning, she narrowly missed a second rock colliding with her head.
"You bitch!" One of the women screamed at her, and as she stepped out of the crowd, Milah could see that her face was red and puffy, tears streaming down her face freely, her hair wild and tangled. Milah's eyes went wide as she looked at her, but the woman kept screaming. "My husband is dead! He died fighting the ogres, unlike your useless Rumple! They were supposed to fight together…maybe if he hadn't run, MY husband would still be alive!" She howled with anguish, almost throwing herself towards Milah, but the other women pulled her back to them, embracing her warmly and trying to soothe her. Milah watched them, her own face pained, but all she got from the other women were glares and angry mutters, until she turned around and kept on walking. She made it out of town before the tears started streaming down her face, before she broke down by the side of the road and cried. By the time she made it home, she had quieted her sobs, entering the cottage and brushing the dirt from her shoulder. When Rumple asked her about her red eyes, she told him what had happened, and he went quiet for a long time. Eventually, she looked up at him.
"We could leave, Rumple," she said softly, and he looked up at her with surprise. "Sell the herd, leave this town and all those people behind. We could have a better life." Her eyes lit up, hopeful, maybe in another place, they could be happy.
"I-it's not that simple, Milah." Her face fell, and she knew what was coming. "We've lived our whole lives here…and what would we do if we couldn't find another place? The war's still on, the world is a dangerous place, and with my bad leg I wouldn't be able to protect you and Bae…at least here, we're safe. And how would we earn a living without the herd? It's…it's better if we just stay here." And try as she might, she knew she'd never convince him otherwise. He was too scared to even try to live a better life.
It wouldn't be the last time an angry widow openly lashed out at her, and it was after just another such attack that she found herself in the tavern. She couldn't go home yet, she couldn't pretend that she was happy just yet, so she thought a drink might calm her nerves, might make it easier to pretend. And by the time she stumbled home in a drunken stupor, she didn't have to tell Rumple anything. And it was so much easier than faking it, that she went back again, and again.
She wanted to leave him, and she knew that if it weren't for Baelfire, she would have gone, gone so far away so long ago. But how could she leave her son behind? She couldn't take him without Rumple, how could she be sure she could protect him, provide for him, without a husband to keep them safe? Not that Rumple was much of a man, she thought to herself, but he was all she had. Him and Bae. But the longer she stayed with Rumple, the more she resented him, and the more she found herself resenting her son, and then she started to hate herself. How could a mother hate her son? And she directed it all back at Rumple, because it was all his fault. And since she couldn't do anything about it, she drank, returning to the tavern more and more just to dull the pain of the reality that had become her life.
The night she met Killian Jones was the night she broke. She couldn't take it any longer. Rumple's words ran through her head, how she had to try, how they could have a good life if only she would try. She had been trying! Why did he think she had to drink to numb the pain? The very sight of him filled her with loathing, and even the thought of her son couldn't bring a smile to her face any longer, and yet a few hours with Killian had her laughing like she couldn't remember laughing in years. A brief window of happiness, and she craved more. She had to get out.
After Rumple went to bed, she crept from under the covers. She paused by Baelfire's sleeping form by the door, looking down at her beloved son with tormented eyes, she brushed his hair away from his forehead affectionately. Maybe she could do this, she thought to herself, her mind already changing, now that she was looking at him, maybe she could be happy here…she drew in a shuddering breath. If she didn't go now, she never would, and she'd live in this misery, hating her husband, her son, and herself. She couldn't bear the thought of hating Bae, so she bent down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, holding in her tears, before she left. She would always love him, even if she couldn't always be with him.
She went back to the tavern, hoping the pirates would still be there. And, in true pirate form, they were, still drinking and carousing and getting ever more drunk by the moment. She approached hesitantly, but Killian's eyes flashed up towards her, and she smiled as he waved her over, recognition shining in his pretty blue eyes. He was more drunk than earlier, and pulled her into his lap. "Ready to go, love? You want me to take you away from all this misery, to a life of adventure and wonder?" He didn't sound serious, but Milah was.
"Will you have me?" He sobered up a bit at that, looking up from where he had been staring at her breasts to meet her gaze. He looked into her eyes, and an understanding passed between them, and in answer, he pulled her chin down to him and kissed her roughly.
She had her back pressed against the door of the captain's cabin, and she could hear them talking on the other side. Killian and Rumple, talking about her. She closed her eyes tight, knowing she should go out and tell Rumple the truth, tell him she was leaving and Killian wasn't taking her against her will, but the Captain didn't seem to have a problem with letting Rumple believe that. She reached for the handle, about to pull the door open and tell her husband not to hurt himself fighting for a woman who didn't want him, when she heard Killian speak.
"A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets." She dropped the door handle, her face aghast. He…he wouldn't even fight for her? He'd come to fetch her, to save her from the pirates, apparently, but when push came to shove, he'd rather let a crew of bawdy men have their way with her then even pick up a sword? She knew he was a coward, but…but this… she stepped back, away from the door. Let him live with his guilt. She would not miss him.
She did miss Baelfire. Every day, no matter what adventure they had or what dangers they faced, she thought of her son. She was happy with Killian, so happy she felt like she was living in a dream, and yet she was tormented by the guilt of having abandoned her son. And though he didn't say anything, she could tell that Killian knew.
"We could go get him, you know." He said one day, years later, and Milah looked back at him, from where she'd been staring out over the sea mournfully. "He's old enough now to be a part of the crew."
"I left him, Killian." She murmured softly, looking down towards the railing. "How could he forgive me?"
"You're his mother," he answered, wrapping an arm around her from behind, he rested his chin on her shoulder. "He'll forgive you when you come back for him."
It was a discussion they would have many more times before Milah finally relented, her desire to have her family back overcoming her shame at having left. "I'll take the lads to the tavern. You're sure you can handle your husband if he's angry?" He told her as they disembarked from the ship, back in that same town she had set sail from so many years ago.
Milah quirked an eyebrow at him, and patted the sword at her hip. "You remember my husband, don't you?" Killian laughed, and Milah set off to find her old home by herself.
She found it empty. No sign of Bae, no sign of Rumple, and it was obvious no one had lived there for some time. Even the herd was long since gone. Puzzled, she wondered if her absence was the motivation he had needed to finally leave the town, but running into an old neighbour, she learned otherwise.
"Rumplestiltskin…Milah, he became the Dark One." Milah's eyes went wide. "He and Bae continued living in town after that, but…you could tell all was not well. And then one day…Baelfire just disappeared. Rumplestiltskin left shortly after that, but he's still in town often." Drifting back to her ship in a daze, she worried what had become of her son. Had he left his father, as she had, or had…she couldn't even finish the thought. He was all right, he had to be all right. He was like her, he had set out to make his own way, that was all… But when she arrived back at the ship, her mind went elsewhere.
Killian embraced her immediately, and she twined her arms around his neck, grateful for his touch. "Killian?" She murmured, wondering if he had found out what had happened at the tavern. But when she pulled back to look at him, she knew that wasn't it. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, love… just glad to see you." He shook his head, scooping her up into his arms. She knew he was lying but she kissed him anyway, she knew she could get the truth out of him eventually. He made love to her like it was his last night on earth, and when she woke the next morning, he was already up. She crept to the door of the cabin, where she could her Killian speaking in a low voice to someone outside the door.
"Set sail as soon as I leave, before she wakes." She could hardly believe her ears. "She's the captain now... make sure the men follow her." He gave a low chuckle, before continuing, "hell, what am I saying. She never had trouble making you lot listen on her own." He sounded wistful, and she could hear the affection in his voice when he spoke of her. So why was he leaving? "Don't tell her anything until the sun's down. Then explain what happened. Tell her I'm sorry. Tell her… well, she knows."
"What do I know, Killian?" She demanded, pushing open the door, fury on her face. Killian looked up in shock, guilt written all over his pretty face.
"Milah, I… please, just do as I ask. Leave without me, you must." It took some time to get him to admit what had happened, how he had met her husband in town, and her face went pale.
"You can't go to face him, Killian. He'll kill you."
"If I don't, he'll kill you all." He stroked her hair back from her face, then kissed her. "You have the ship, you have the crew, you'll be fine without me."
"Don't be daft," she answered shortly. "We can figure this out. We always do. The Dark One always makes deals, right? There must be something he wants more than your head, pretty as it is."
"I stole the man's wife, Milah." He pointed out. "It's not something one forgives easily."
Milah waved off his concern. "He never loved me, whatever insult you served him, it wasn't heartbreak. We'll go back to the tavern, find something. There's always something." She insisted, and Killian smiled, and kissed her again. Then he turned to one of his men, speaking under his breath.
"Keep her at the tavern until after dawn…don't let her come find us."
"You're going to tell me what he wanted from you, or I'm going to cut your liver out and make you watch as I feed it to the dogs." Milah growled at the squat man, his red hat having fallen to the gutter as he struggled against the two burly men holding him.
"B-but this is the Dark One we're talking about! He'll kill me if I betray him!" Milah was unperturbed.
"I'll kill you if you don't. Tell me what he wanted, and I'll make sure you live." She growled, threatening the man until he finally gave up the information about the magic bean. "Take him back to the ship. If he's lied to me, string him up." She ordered, before taking off at a run.
It was already past dawn by the time she raced through the streets, searching for the alley her men had spoken of, praying she wasn't too late. But by the time she got there, Killian was already on his knees, the Dark One's hand protruding from him chest, the expression on his face one of torment. "Stop!" She cried in anguish, stepping into the light and hoping she wasn't already too late.