The day Gold got his memories back it had become easier to notice the changes the savior and her power had brought to the town. For the most part they were the small subtle things Regina would never have noticed. The cricket had cut across the alleyway on his otherwise routine dog walk, a few nameless patrons had switched up their breakfast orders at Granny's, and most telling of all, the hands on the clock tower had moved a few seconds.
He had been concerned that with her sudden incorporation into curse, all hope of her saving anything would have been lost. After that curious show of power in his shop, and not to mention the look of seething hatred on her face as she did it, he had intended to investigate further. Regina, however, had quickly gotten in the way of that, fitting her with false memories and a life as a lonely foster child in Storybrooke.
The one consolation he had gotten out of the entire situation was the fact that Regina didn't know Miss Swan's role in their little fairy tale. If she had, Regina would have used what little magic she brought into this world to make sure she was in no position to save anyone, and if the magic wasn't enough Rumpelstiltskin wasn't foolish enough to assume she didn't have other measures at her disposal.
He also wasn't foolish enough to assume the timing of her adoption was a coincidence. Miss Swan was a bit young to be a mother but there was no doubt the boy was hers.
It was an interesting development – one even he never could have foretold – and one that was likely to be Regina's downfall. She underestimates the bond between parent and child and just because the memories are no longer there does not mean the bond has lessened any.
"Look man, I don't understand. Are you saying I stole the shit or are you saying those kids did?"
Gold froze. His right hand griped his cane so tight his knuckles felt as if they were going to pop out of his skin and yet he still had to put his left hand against the wall to steady himself.
Bae. Oh God, Bae.
He would recognize that voice anywhere despite it being an octave lower than the last time he heard it. He turned the corner, trying to get a look at his son.
Bae's face had lost some of its roundness and he had grown several inches but he looked much the same as he had that day in the forest, as if only a handful of years had passed for him in the centuries Rumple had been looking.
So many questions raced through his mind. The only way he could have gotten into Storybrooke was if he had been in the Enchanted Forest when it was cast. Had that damn fairy lied about the bean or had Bae somehow found a way back to him?
"I'm saying you were helping them," the sheriff said, making Rumple want to beat him with his cane. Bae was not a thief.
"Then why aren't you going after them?" He said, scratching at the back of his neck.
"Because they got away."
"That's not my problem, so unless you have proof, I have somewhere else to be."
"You knocked over the magazines to cause a distraction…" Clark, the dumpy little dwarf said.
Bae just shrugged in confusion. "My shoelace came undone. Since when is that a crime?"
"You hid things in the camera's blind spot so that they could take them!" Clark continued, indignant.
"I had too much in my basket and was too lazy to put it back in the right spot, besides you just admitted you don't have any proof."
He turned to the sheriff. "Can I go?"
The huntsman sighted and waved him off, much to the dwarf's chagrin.
Gold followed his boy at a respectable distance. As much as every instinct wanted him to run forward and embrace him, to hold Bae in his arms like he did when he was a boy, the undeniable truth was that Baelfire would not remember him.
There was nothing even the dark one could do now. The curse could not be broken until Emma's twenty-eight birthday – a date a decade away – and there was no magic. That little trick could only be done after the curse was broken.
To wake Baelfire, he had only one choice: ask Regina. As long as the 'please' condition was still in play, she would have to do it. Yet Rumple hadn't survived this long and accomplished so much by rushing into things, by not knowing the cost. To get Regina to do it would be to tip his hand too much. He did not want Regina questioning how he had been woken, but more than that, he didn't want to her to try and use his son as a bargaining chip until he had the magic to protect him.
Gold followed him again, unable to take his eyes away from the young man his son had become. Bae walked a few blocks to a little parking lot half hidden behind the hardware store where two kids, not much younger than himself, waited by a yellow car.
"Gees Neal, I really thought they got you," the girl said.
"Na, they didn't have anything on me, but you're going to want to use cash for a while just in case."
"That's kind of the problem, we don't have any."
Bae gave them the shy, mischievous little smile Rumple had missed so much.
"Are you sure about that?" He held up two fingers, a cluster of bills clutched between them. "This should hold you for a while, just don't spend it all at once."
"How did you get that?" The boy asked him, clearly impressed.
"You'd think the sheriff would know better than to carry cash now a days. He was just asking to get took."
They laughed.
"Alright, go stash that somewhere safe and get your homework done," he said, ruffling the boy's hair and sending them on their way.
Bae opened the driver side door and turned to look at Rumple. It was an odd look, as if he was both confused, intrigued, and had the slightest hint of recognition.
It was more than Gold could ever have hoped for.
There was nothing quite like the frantic sound of someone knocking on his window as two in the morning. Not that he was getting that much sleep anyways. Sleeping meant dreaming and that was rarely fun. His nightmares were always the same, a flash of green, wind pulling at every inch of him, and the feeling of someone letting go when they should have been holding on. Sometimes they were of him stuck in a forest, running, hiding, surviving.
The worst, however, were the ones he remembered least. A home somewhere (his mind kept wanting to say Tallahassee but he knew that wasn't quite right,) warmth, laughter, the weight of something precious in his arms…and the overwhelming feeling of loss that tore him apart from the inside. Those dreams stayed with him for days, leaving a dull burning ach that he just couldn't name.
Today just happened to be one of the worst.
"Shouldn't you be asleep?"
"I snuck out when Miss Blanchard went to bed. They're going to separate us! We need your help."
He wiped the sleep from his face and put the back of the seat up.
"Ava calm down and breathe. What is going on?"
"Mr. Clark got the sheriff to follow us and now they know we were living on our own. We're staying with Miss Blanchard until they figure out what to do with us but I heard them talking about sending us away to different homes. What are we going to do?"
She looked so scared, not the Neal could blame her. Families should stick together and losing yours, well it was a lot for any kid.
"I don't know," he said, "but we'll find something."
And that was how he found himself spending all of the next day pounding the preverbal pavement. It was a long shot, but the best idea they could come up with was to find the twins dad, despite the fact that he had never been in their lives.
Neal was nervous for them, if their pop had known about them and had already walked away from them once, that was only opening up the kids for heartbreak. But that wouldn't be nearly as bad as them being separated.
Eventually though, it all came down to a last ditch effort Neal hadn't the heart to tell them probably wouldn't work. They had an old broken campus that was special to their mom and maybe, just maybe she had been enough of the sentimental type that she kept something of her ex's.
Neal had never met Mr. Gold personally, but he knew his reputation as one of those people that scared everyone shitless. For some reason that didn't really bother Neal that much.
What did set him a bit off balance was the absolute distraction that had pretty much destroyed his shop. Every display had been smashed and splintered leaving objects spread everywhere. The only thing that seemed to be in its proper place were a bunch of crystal unicorns strung together into what Neal thought was a child's mobile.
Under the destruction there was something in the air, like the faintest hint of static electricity just under the surface, dancing across his skin and kissing the top of his head. A little laugh echoed in his ears but he shook it off.
"Store's closed," someone shouted from the back but Neal wasn't quite ready to leave just yet.
"I'm not here to buy anything."
Probably not the best thing to say to a pawnshop broker but the words kind of came out before he meant them to.
Gold came out to greet him and stopped in the doorway, a look of shock and joy and about a million other emotions flashing across his face at once.
"Bae?"
"What?"
Just like that the look was gone and what replaced it, Neal knew, was a carefully constructed mask. Whatever was going on in the old man's head, he didn't want people knowing it.
"What business do you have here if not to buy anything?"
The emotions so carefully hidden by his mask were leaking into his voice, making Neal uncomfortable.
"I was wondering if you had any information on this," he said, showing Gold the compass, "There's a couple kids in trouble and I think it may belong to their father. Maybe he can help them."
"I heard about that. Nasty business but perhaps it's better this way. Kids shouldn't be living on the street alone, stealing just to eat."
"They're not alone, they have each other and to be honest, living on the street is nothing compared to living alone. Families shouldn't be torn apart."
Gold looked like he had been slapped. He held out his hand inviting Neal to hand it over.
"I remember this piece. Excellent craftsmanship."
"What's your price?"
"What?" Gold asked, still obviously out of sorts.
"I know your reputation. Everything comes with a price with you, even information."
Gold looked at him, measuring. It was a look that Neal had seen many others squirm under, and yet Neal had no problems standing his ground.
"Something recently came into my shop that I didn't fully understand and left my shop a bit of a mess."
"I hadn't noticed."
Gold cracked a smile.
"Yes well, it's just me here and bending down is somewhat difficult," he said, motioning to his cane. "If I give you the name of the man who bought it, then when you've concluded your business with him, you come and help me straighten up a bit?"
"And you're just going to give me the information first?" Neal had spent too long surviving on his own not to be suspicious of something like that.
"I trust you."
There was something going on here that Neal couldn't quite put his finger on. His mind told him he should be scared of this old man. His heart said he should be pissed at him (for what?). But his instincts, well they told him that, as crazy as it sounded, he could trust Gold.
Those instincts had saved his ass more than the other two.
"What the hell. It's not like I have anything better to do."
If Neal was being objective, he would say that there was something a little pathetic about a man who didn't want his kids, but wasn't being objective and so that just made Michael Tillman despicable.
"Well, I'm sorry, but Dory – she wasn't my, um… It was just once."
"Sex Ed 101, man. That's all it takes."
"I can barely manage this garage. I can't manage two kids."
Neal could have understood if it was the shock talking – after all it's not every day you find out you have a twelve year old you never knew about, let alone two – but Neal could hear the truth. It wasn't shock. It was fear. That man was doing everything he could to justify chickening out of his responsibilities.
"Then you should have wrapped it."
"What makes you think they're mine?"
"Timing, for one. And there's this," Neal dropped the compass into his hand.
"I lost this…"
"Why don't you do the math and find out when."
Michael stared at it for a long moment before handing it back.
"I'm really sorry. I am. I don't know anything about being a dad. If it's a good home you're looking for, it's not with me."
Neal stepped forward until he was almost in the coward's face.
"Good home? Bullshit. Those kids are going to spend the rest of their lives wondering why you just let them go and didn't give a shit what happens next, because it's never pretty.
Ava and Nick, they're going to be put into the foster system and it's pretty much a sure thing they are going to be separated. What little bit of family they have left will be ripe apart because, and let me let me tell you a bit about the foster system; it's not a good home, not for anyone. I was only hit once before I took off on my own but few are so lucky.
"The good homes – the ones so rare they're practically a legend— almost always send you back when you get to be too much trouble. Maybe you accidently break something, maybe they have their own kid, or maybe when you find someone finally willing to adopt you, they go nuts and try and shove you in front of oncoming traffic.
"And that's just the good ones. The bad families, the ones that can't keep their hands to themselves, well sometimes they wait until you're asleep and—"
"Enough!" Tillman screamed and Neal could tell he was getting to him. Good the coward needed to know just what the hell he was doing.
"No man, it's not. The truth is that the moment you become a father, or find out you're one, it's no longer about you. Those kids are the only thing that matters and you better do right by them."
It was in that moment that Neal noticed that as mad as Tillman was, he was just as disgusted with himself.
"I can't help you."
Neal gave a bitter snort. "It's not me you're fucking over."
A half dozen trash bags were tied up by the door, full of wood and glass, waiting to be taken out. Neal had been surprised to find that he hadn't been expected to do the work alone. Gold had actually stayed with him, doing almost any bit of cleaning that didn't require stooping down or putting down his cane.
"I hear Mr. Tillman has retrieved his children from Miss Blanchard's custody," Gold said, leaning against what was left of the counter.
"Good."
"And you've done quite well here."
They had talked for hours as they worked and Neal couldn't remember the last time he had had such easy conversation. Neither of the really watched television and it soon became obvious that Gold was much more of a homebody then Neal, but underneath it all there was something there, some connection he just couldn't place.
"Yeah, it's kind of nice."
"How would you like a job?"
"Seriously?" Neal asked. Even without the distraction this place couldn't get all that many customers, so what was the old man playing at?
"I figured you could use some honest work rather than picking the sheriff's pocket," Gold said, an impish little grin tugging at the corners of his lips.
"You saw that?" Neal said, his pride a little bruised.
"I saw you give those kids the money."
"It will be our little secret." If Neal didn't know better, he could have sworn the old man was a little proud of him.
"Of course."
"So do you want the job or not?"
"What the hell."
The night after his third day at work, it rained. He liked the rain, it was comforting and sometimes – just sometimes – it was enough to keep the nightmares away. What he didn't like was that someone had smashed in his window sometime before he got off work. A trash bag would seal it up pretty well for tonight, but the inside was already soaked.
"Shit."
"What's wrong," Gold said from behind him. "Ah."
"It's fine." Neal said, "I can put a towel down until I get home."
"No you won't."
Neal turned. "What?"
"You think I didn't know that you've been sleeping in your car?"
Neal shouldn't have been surprised, it was harder to get anything past the old man than it was just about anyone else Neal knew.
"Come on. I have a guest room and we can get that horrible yellow thing of yours into the garage first thing tomorrow."
"What's this really about?" Neal asked, sitting at the table a glass of orange juice and a couple eggs-in-a-baskets sitting in front of him. He had to admit it was nice not to have stolen pop tarts for breakfast, but there was more going on here and he wanted to know what.
"The car's been fixed for a week and you still insist that I stay here."
"A well-rested person can work better. I consider it an investment."
Neal snorted. How the hell had Gold been able to tell such a straight faced lie? The man had skills.
"I could almost buy that if you hadn't let me sleep in until noon all week."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"You think I'm stupid? When I first came into the shop you looked like you had seen a ghost, then you gave me a job. Then my car window gets 'mysteriously' broken and you just happen to offer me your guest room. And now you want me to stay. Give me one reason this isn't creepy."
Gold paused and looked down, pensive, his own glass of juice in his hand.
It took him a moment to answer, but when he did his voice was soft and vonarble in a way Neal hadn't thought it could be.
"You remind me so much of my son. He would be about your age now."
"What happened to him?"
"A car accident."
"You were driving, weren't you?" Neal asked. It would explain the shear heart wrenching loss in the man's voice and for some reason Neal understood.
"Yes. He wanted to go so badly and I had promised even though it truly felt like a bad idea. I can still hear the wind from the storm. I could have saved him but I had hesitated. The whole thing reminded me so much of when I lost my father that I froze and then he was gone."
"What was his name?" Neal whispered, getting up. It was an odd thing but it felt right. Neal wrapped his arms around Gold and gave him a big hug.
"Bae."
"I'm not him."
"I know." Gold whispered, returning the hug and Neal could feel tears hitting his neck. "But you're welcomed to stay."
Neal licked his lips, unsure and then sighed.
"What the hell."
It's weird, but I kind of fan cast Dylan and Abby rather than MRJ and JMO. I guess a lot of that has to do with how no one bought them acting as teenagers. For future reference, Neal's age is 21 in this story. The wanted poster said he was born in 77, which would make him 23 in 2000 when Emma went to Jail. Truthfully, I think he would have lied about his age. I mean he was what fifteen or sixteen when he escaped Neverland and I think he would have padded his age a bit to stay out of the system.
