Author's notes: This happens during the night after The Millers Daughter, so, you'll find here minor spoilers for season 2, episode 16.
Special thanks to xonceinadream for a perfect beta-reading.
Warnings: Description of heavy self harm.
Disclaimer: OUAT don't belongs to me. Unfortunately. This fiction is just made for fun, I don't get money out of it.
He'd never thought, that a single well aimed blow done with a heavy sledge hammer, would smash a human leg in such an effective way or that he'd have to live as a cripple for the rest of his life. A cripple, with no choice but to remember the price he'd paid, with every change in the weather, or after the slightest strain on the leg. Even after more than 300 years he didn't have a choice other than to remember. Back then, he couldn't think about anything, but his son, a son he would have soon, a son about whom he hadn't even known until a few hours ago. A son who would grow up without having a father. A son like himself, mocked by the other boys of the village, unwilling pawn to their unremitting teasing, without ever having a fair chance to fight in an effective way against their superiority.
The pain was almost unbearable in that moment when the sledge hammer hit the bones and cracked them like brittle branches and when the cracked bones pierced the skin afterwards to wet the lower part of his leg with warm liquid. Most of the time that was the very moment when he woke up, bathed in sweat, hearing himself crying out.
He'd witnessed this moment hundreds of times, over and over again, during his lifetime as the Dark One in the fairytaleland that was and as Mr. Gold in Storybrooke. Even during the 28 years when he was still cursed like everybody else who lived there, he had this dream. Certainly, he didn't know then where this nightmare came from but he knew for certain that it must be part of his innermost self, even if he hadn't had an explanation for it. That was the reason why he never told anybody about it; never Milah, his first wife, who hated him for the outcome of that event, never Cora or even Belle.
To conceal what truly happened on that day which decided his whole life, and also that of thousands of other people was his burden, the burden he had to bear for the rest of his life. A burden which grew with each time, more and more. A burden he had to keep to himself. A burden he couldn't share with anyone. This burden was as effective as the pain he felt all the time, the pain which reminded him who he was, and what he did, once, in another lifetime.
With a sigh, he pushed the comforter away with his good leg, sat up and put his legs, one after the next to the cold floor. Then he grabbed the cane with his right hand, and walked slowly to the bathroom.
‚Maybe, I'll have the chance to talk to Bae today', he thought. His son was very effective, when he wanted to avoid something. In this, he was not different from himself.