Premise: 6x11 Tougher Than The Rest. Wish World Rumple, locked in Regina's dungeon for 28 years, escapes only to find Belle's bones in her tower. He learns that Bae was in the same world, but died, leaving a son.
WARNING: Character death
Dedicated to: wiselittlewoman on tumblr for Rumple Angst Fest 2017
What Remains / Undoing
Twenty-eight years.
For twenty-eight years, he'd languished in that cell, abandoned by everyone and everything except the magic keeping him alive. He'd known the moment the Evil Queen failed, could feel it like a change in the air. The Dark Curse, the prophesied solution to his centuries-old mistake, never came. Storybrooke never came. And he was left alone to rot in Regina's dungeon.
And rot he did. With no food, no water, no need for sleep, his curse kept him alive, but his clothes and his mind degraded. He lost all sense of himself, retreating into the darkness, entertaining himself by conversing with the Dark Ones in his head.
Time meant nothing. Night and day, months and years, it was all the same. Stone and iron, darkness and voices, nothing ever changed. Not even the foolishly brave souls who wandered down here on occasion provided more than a moment's diversion. Most ran away as soon as they sensed they were not alone. The rare few ventured close enough to tap the bars of his cell with sword or spear or pointy stick. All were forgotten the moment their echoing footsteps faded away.
Only one boy, fourteen and daring, left an impression. He crept in on a dare, his friend hanging back by the stairs, begging the princeling to give up so they could head back. But the boy came right up to his cage, the light from his torch revealing...
No, it couldn't be Bae. His hair was too neat, for one thing. But in another time, another place, it could have been him. This boy had the same spark of bravery in his eyes. He didn't back down when Rumplestiltskin pressed his face to the bars, studying his visitor.
"I'm not afraid of you, Dark One," he said.
Rumple giggled. "Why not?" he whined.
"Because I know that this cage was made with fairy dust to keep you trapped and powerless. You can't hurt me. I know all about you."
"Ho, I doubt you know everything, dearie," Rumple said with a flourish. "Only one person alive knows all, and that's me."
"Then tell me about my father."
Rumple pushed off from the bars, shaking his finger at the boy as he melted into the shadows again. "Ah-ah-ah! That's not how it works, sonny-boy! It's not something for nothing, you know."
"What do you want?"
"Hmm..." He looked the boy over. He was dressed well, but carried nothing of value. Asking for his freedom would be too much, he knew. They boy wasn't desperate. He knew perfectly well who his father was, which meant the question was either a trick or a test. "What's your name, boy?"
"My grandfather always warned me never to give my name to you," he said, frowning. "It's in all the stories. They say names have power."
"Oh, they do, they do," Rumple nodded. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "But how am I to know anything about your father if I don't have your name, or his?"
The princeling was silent for a moment. "His name was Neal."
"No, it wasn't." He wasn't sure how he knew, but he was certain. "You lie."
The boy looked confused. "No. That was his name. He died when I was small."
"Then he lied!" Rumplestiltskin pounced on the bars, startling the boy for the first time. He grinned and pushed his face between the bars. "Probably ran off with a sack of silver and has been telling the whole kingdom how he bedded the princess!" He leaned back, twirling a hand in one of his dramatic flourishes and giggled.
"Stop it!" The boy glared at him. "My father died a hero of the realm."
Rumple wrinkled his nose and stepped back from the bars. "Keep telling yourself that."
The boy continued to stare him down. Rumple wondered what he might do without that tight leash on his frustration. Oh, yes, this boy was by far the most entertaining diversion in a long time.
A small voice calling from the stairs broke the spell. "Prince Henry, we need to go. We shouldn't have come here."
The princeling started to turn, but paused. "You know, they're all afraid of you, Rumplestiltskin. But you're nothing but a fraud."
"Careful who you insult, dearie," Rumplestiltskin growled. I won't be in this cage forever, and I assure you, you don't want to be on my bad side when I get out."
Prince Henry shook his head. "Do you even have a good side?"
The question caught Rumple off guard. Rhetorical though it was, a part of him wanted to defend the tiny speck of light left in his heart. The darkness of course would have none of that, preferring to maintain his carefully cultivated reputation. It left him paralyzed with indecision until the moment to respond had passed.
The boy shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Your prophecy about my mom needing to be the Savior was wrong. Why should this one be any different? You're not getting out of here." He turned and left before Rumple could wrap his mind around what he'd said.
His mother was the Savior he'd foretold? Snow White and Prince Charming's child?
How long had he been down here?
After the boy left, taking the light of his torch with him, the darkness seemed deeper, the solitude more profound. When his prodigal pupil returned, he knew the time had come.
He used the formerly evil queen's delusions against her to bargain for his freedom. After all, what was the harm if none of it was real? Her logic was laughable, thinking a not-real magic bean could get her out of a not-real world. He even upheld his end of the bargain, procuring a petrified bean and reviving it with a few drops of water he had once collected from the now dry Lake Nostos.
Once, he would have kept the bean for himself, and used it to get to Bae. But the time for that had passed. No matter how many futures he searched with his Sight, he could no longer find one in which he was reunited with his son. After centuries of searching, planning, and waiting, he had failed. He would never see his Baelfire again, in this life or the next.
The darkness whispered to him, urging him to give up that last flicker of light in his heart. It was inevitable, he knew, but first he wanted to give one last chance to the love and hope he'd denied in order to enact his failed plan.
He went looking for Belle.
The darkness had convinced him to believe Regina's lies twenty-eight years ago. But twenty-eight years was a long time to think. Eventually he had decided that no father could do that to a daughter, especially one so lovely as Belle. She was probably home, safe and sound, even if unmarried because of her brief association with the Dark One.
Of course, if the rest of the world had aged, so would she have done. How old would she be now? Fifty? Sixty? No matter. He'd find her and if not apologize, then at least gaze upon her beauty one last time before the darkness overtook him.
He went to her father's castle first, but Maurice's lands were ruled by a stranger now. Twenty-eight years. Too much had changed. The young lord who sat in Sir Maurice's chair couldn't have been out of swaddling the last time Rumple was there, but he knew enough to forbid the Dark One from ever returning for the price of admitting that the Lady Belle had never returned after saving her people from the ogres.
The news shocked him. He had thought Regina had lied about Belle's death, but if she hadn't come home to her father, where had she gone? Could he have been wrong? Perhaps Regina had been telling the truth about her death, but lying about how it had happened? The Evil Queen had been fishing for a weakness to exploit, and making him believe his relationship with Belle was to blame for her death had been quite the wound. Hadn't he always said love was a weapon?
He retreated to the Dark Castle. It had been ransacked by looters, of course, but Rumple's old walking stick was still there, discarded on the floor. He knelt beside it, brushing his fingers across the marks he'd carved long ago to chart Bae's growth as a boy. The window of opportunity to find his son may have closed, but that didn't stop Rumple from wondering where he was, if he was still alive, how old he would be now, and if he'd managed to find happiness without his papa. Centuries of wasted effort, but he would do it all again for just a chance to see his boy again. He could barely remember the face of the child without the help of a memory spell. How would he have recognized the man Baelfire had surely grown into?
He closed his eyes and stood, swinging the staff around as he rose. The air next to the ransacked display cabinet shimmered before revealing a second, smaller cabinet. The objects inside were dusty, but otherwise untouched. Rumple cupped his hands around a crystal orb, his thoughts still on Bae.
Nothing happened.
Rumple sighed. It never had shown him Bae, even when his visions promised their reunion. Instead, he turned his thoughts to chipped teacups and broken hearts, teasing blue eyes and kisses that push back the dark. Just thinking of Belle was enough to soothe the emptiness in his heart and halt the progression of darkness, even for just a moment. He could almost remember what it was like to be happy.
But the orb remained clear.
No Bae he could understand. But Belle shouldn't be hidden from him unless she was dead... or if Regina had shielded her from his magic. He could feel the rage building, ready to fuel his magical vengeance on his former student. It would be so easy to just let go and wreak the destruction the savior-princess and the not-so-evil Regina expected of him, but he needed to know the truth first. If something had happened to Belle, then those responsible would pay dearly, and in proportion to their crime. If she was alive, well... he had the unpleasant suspicion that he would allow Belle to talk him out of whatever just punishment he planned for the inconvenience.
The last place he wanted to go was the best place to start looking for answers. Returning to the Evil Queen's palace itched like jumping into a lake of wriggling spiders, but as long as he didn't go exploring the dungeons he'd so recently vacated, Rumple hoped those spiders wouldn't bite.
Regina's chambers were trashed even more thoroughly than the Dark Castle had been, if such a thing was possible. More surprising was the presence of two regally dressed corpses laid out on the daybed. Tip-toeing his way through the debris of Regina's belongings, Rumple leaned over the bodies for a look-see.
A high-pitched whine of a giggle escaped him. Well, well, look at that. The Evil Queen had finally gotten her revenge! Snow White and Prince Charming lay posed in each other's arms in eternal slumber, quite aged from the last time Rumple saw either of them. But no, this was recent. This was Regina's work, the one who claimed none of this was real. Real enough for you yet, dearie?
It didn't matter. With Bae beyond his reach, they were all no longer of any use to him. He continued his search. A diary would have been most helpful. The Evil Queen was just the sort to gleefully brag about whatever she had done to the Dark One's... maid? Love interest?... Friend? No matter. There was nothing to find. Room after room, he searched, until he came to a spiral staircase leading up to a solitary tower room.
She threw herself off the tower, Regina had said twenty-eight years ago. She died.
A shiver of dread made him pause halfway up the stairs. Even the voices in his head were silent. Did he really want to know the truth? He could leave now, never open that door, and give up his search. He could live with the assumption that Bae and Belle were both still alive somewhere, in some world, and delude himself into believing their paths might still cross his someday.
He could, but without their light in his life, that someday might not come soon enough to save his heart form the darkness.
He pushed on, opening the door at the top with just a touch of magic. It swung open slowly, adding to Rumple's reluctance. The darkness rebelled against what he was trying to do, quite happy to let his soul rot without love. But there was something else at play, too. Another protection spell of Regina's to keep intruder's out? Or was it something within Rumple himself? Premonition, instinct, some other sense, magical or mundane? Irrational fear urged him to leave, but he was already across the threshold.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he looked around the empty room. Nothing special or particularly sinister, it appeared to be just another prison cell, bare except for a cot, a chamber pot, and chains bolted to the wall. The lumpy shape on the cot beneath a blanket covered in thick dust suggested the poor soul had been forgotten and left to starve when the Evil Queen was banished. Tally marks on the wall above the bed indicated that they'd been here some time before succumbing to eternal sleep. Months, perhaps even a year or two, if Rumple cared to count, which he didn't.
He was about to leave when he noticed the pattern on the blanket. Heavily obscured by dust, it was hard to make out, but it somehow looked... familiar. A wave of his hand magicked the dust away and restored the material to its original form. It was a spring green with golden leaves, vines, and flowers dancing across every inch of fabric. Very familiar indeed...
Hearing his own manic giggle in his head frightened him. Have you forgotten her already? Poor Rumple, lost without twu wuv. How did you expect to find her when you can't even recognize what's right in front of you?
Rumple clutched the door frame, hyperventilating with the effort to shake the thoughts from his head, to banish the darkness back into the shadows where it belonged. At the first sob, he sank to the floor, leaning his forehead against the cool stone of the wall. His tears were as silent as ever, but his shock and guilt undid him. He couldn't unsee the truth anymore than he could stop the darkness from eating away his heart.
He could feel it, wrapped in a tight grip within his chest, squeezing the light out. It hissed in pleasure, murmuring his weaknesses with the voices of his predecessors. Love was weakness. Always weakness. And no one would ever love him ever again. True love was a dream, nothing more. Now it was gone forever. Only the Dark One had life immortal. No use hanging on to the past, to the mortals who abandoned him time after time. Darkness was his only friend, the only constant companion of his twenty-eight year solitude.
When he raised himself from the floor, his tears had dried. He scowled at the shape of the corpse on the cot and magicked himself away to skin himself a regal.
Skinning was too good for Regina, he decided, too quick. No, she would suffer as he had suffered, as Belle had suffered.
He locked her in his dungeon with the thief. So what if she wasn't the same Regina who had locked them up? She certainly hadn't denied doing the same thing in whatever world she came from. Besides, he needed someone to punish, and she was close enough to the real thing (or not-real thing, as she insisted) to make little difference.
Really, it was quite mind-boggling how she managed to cling to her little delusion. Pain was pain. Dead was dead. There was nothing "not real" about any of it.
He'd just made up his mind to skin the thief after all when he realized they had escaped. They would be looking for Princess Emma, of course, so Rumple decided to find her first.
Something must have gone wrong in the tracking spell, because he found himself teleporting in front of a charging horse. A wave of his hand froze the beast, but the rider dismounted, drawing his sword.
"You again," the knight, no, boy, said.
Rumple giggled. "Well, of course it's me, dearie! The question is, who are you?"
The boy scowled and pointed the sword at him, as if it would be any use against magic. His rage seemed to be a better fit for his armor than his youthful self. "How did you get out of your cage?"
Rumple shrugged. "I escaped." He stalked forward, eyeing the boy.
"If you know anything about where the Evil Queen has taken the Princess, tell me now and let me pass."
Realization dawned. "You're the Savior's boy!" Rumple clapped his hands together with another giggle, dancing around to the side, out of the reach of the sword. "Tell me, what did she say when you asked about your father's true name?"
The boy knight remained silent, frowning as he followed the Dark One's movements with the tip of his sword.
"Come, come! What was his name? What's to be afraid of? It's not like I can..." Rumple illustrated with a flourish, "summon him from the dead!" He stepped in closer, so close to the blade that the boy took a reflexive step back. "No name, no horse. What have you got to lose?"
The boy's look darkened with resolve. "His name was Baelfire, and you killed his father."
The shock paralyzed him for the moment it took for his grandson to pierce his heart with the sword. A boy will lead you to your son, but beware, Rumplestiltskin, for the boy is more than he appears. The boy will be your undoing.
With his final breaths, Rumplestiltskin felt the sword leeching the darkness from his heart. The last thing he saw as he fell to the ground was Bae's son standing over him with a blackened blade, a red gem glittering in the pommel.
Would they call the boy a hero, or a new Dark One?