Alright, here it is guys: the end. And now I get to go back to Stardust.

Just a little disclaimer here, the letter at the bottom of the chapter isn't mine. It came from the Untold Stories Facebook game and I just had to include it. One, because it was heartbreaking, and two because it has a lot of influence on how I see Nealfire's character, especially given how little screen time he's had compared to some of the other characters.

By the way, did anyone else catch MRJ's twitter Q&A? Besides a whole bunch of stuff that made me fall even more in love with him, he kind of gave away the fact that he's in the REST of the episodes this season. Bo-yah!

Once again thanks to my lovely beta Noam for helping me with my less than perfect spelling and grammar.

Enjoy, loves.


Something was wrong here and Henry knew it, but he couldn't place just what it was. It was a lot of little things added up that didn't seem right. First off, his mom had insisted he get the front seat, even though every kid knew that if there was more than one adult on the trip, they were regulated to the back. It was just one of those undeniable rules of childhood.

She said it was because she wanted to give Gold and Neal a chance to catch up, and that made sense…or at least it would have under any other circumstances, but Henry wasn't blind. He could see Neal wasn't too happy to see his dad. He made a point to stay as far away from Gold as the cramped car would allow, and hadn't said so much as a word directly to him.

Gold hadn't been much better. He had been really quiet since seeing those pictures; actually, he hadn't said a word since. Besides throwing a few really hurt looks Neal's way, he just sat, staring out the window. It was kind of creepy, really.

Henry knew that it was the pictures that had Mr. Gold's mind elsewhere. He was confused, too, but he was a smart boy; looking out the window wouldn't give him answers, and besides, what was going on in the car was a lot more interesting.

And it was the only way he would get any answers about the photos. Emma and Neal had loved each other—he was a kid, and even he could see that—but they didn't act that way now. At least Emma didn't. Neal, on the other hand, kind of reminded Henry of David and Mary-Margaret back when they thought they couldn't be together because the curse made them think he was already married to someone else. He would stare at her when he thought she wasn't looking, his face plastered with love and guilt even if he tried to hide it. Emma just ignored him though, keeping her eyes glued on the road, and trying desperately not to let anyone catch her glancing into the rearview mirror.

This was getting ridiculous, and frustrating. While Neal was in the shower, Henry had asked Emma a bunch of questions, but she had kept the answers short and didn't really tell him anything. All she had really said was that Neal "wasn't a good guy," but wouldn't tell him more.

That didn't fit with what Henry saw; Neal seemed really cool, even if Gold was his dad. But why would his mom lie? And why was she so mad?

Henry didn't think he was going to get those answers just yet, but that didn't mean he didn't have more questions.

"So, Neal," he asked, turning around to stick his head between the seats, "What was it like?"

"What was what like?"

"The Enchanted Forest," Henry asked, almost as if there was no other option.

"I've already told you," Emma said before Neal had a chance to reply, "There were Ogres and Giants and Chimeras…whatever those are—"

"That's after the curse," Henry said, and he somehow knew what she was trying to do. For some reason she was trying to keep Henry as far away from Neal as possible, even going as far as to put them on opposite sides of the small car. Henry just wished he knew why. "I want to know about before the curse."

"Yeah, Emma," Neal said teasingly as he stuck his head between the seats, resting his elbows besides each head rest, "He's talking about after the curse."

Emma slammed on the breaks and Neal lunged forward, almost bashing his face against the gear shift. Neal looked at her, demanding an explanation. Without answering, she just pointed to the traffic light ahead of them a second before it switched from yellow to red.

"You really should be wearing your seatbelt," she said, her voice almost too calm, "It's unsafe."

Neal said nothing. He just looked at Emma in the mirror and tilted his head towards Henry ever so slightly, almost asking if it was okay to answer. Maybe he saw something in Emma's expression that Henry didn't, because even though her face didn't move, he continued.

"Not much to tell, really. It was like living in the dark ages, and our village was kind of out in the middle of nowhere."

Henry's eyes narrowed a bit. Neal was doing the same thing Emma had been doing back at the apartment: side stepping every question.

"Oh come on," Henry cried, disbelieving. "Are you telling me nothing interestinghappened?"

The corner of Neal's lips twitched a bit as he leaned back up between the seats. "Well, I did hear that pirates came to town once."

"Really?" Henry asked, clearly interested. And honestly, who wouldn't be? Even Gold turned away from his musings to listen to what Neal had to say. "What happened?"

Neal shrugged. "It was before my time."

"Oh." Henry said, disappointed, as his shoulders slumped. There was a moment of silence before he turned his inquires to Emma.

"Can we stop to get something to eat?"

"No. I just want to get back home and—" Emma began irritably, but stopped when Henry's stomach gave a loud, wild growl.

Emma turned to look at him, "When was the last time you ate?"

"Er—this morning?" He looked down, sensing he was in trouble.

"Dear god, Emma, you didn't even pack a sandwich or something for the kid?" Neal asked, and Emma narrowed her eyes, almost as if she were considering slamming on the breaks again.

"The kid," she hissed, "wasn't even supposed to come."

"So then how did he manage to con his way into the trip?" For some reason, Neal didn't seem particularly surprised that Henry had managed it.

"He hid in the back seat."

Neal snorted. "Emma, when are you going to learn? You always check the back seat. There might be perverts living there."

Henry didn't get it and neither did Gold, but neither of them asked for any clarification. Emma got it, though, Henry could tell by the way her lips twitched almost unnoticeably as she tried to keep from smiling. He wasn't the only one to notice either. Neal's face spread into a wide grin, half victorious and half ecstatic.

"Young Henry hid in a rather large suitcase that Miss Swan assumed was mine and I assumed was hers."

For the first time that day, Neal stopped pretending Gold wasn't with them. He looked over and tilted his head, a bit surprised. "Really?"

Gold's eyes widened the tiniest bit, just as surprised as the rest of them, and nodded. Neal laughed, holding out his hand to give Henry a high five. Emma did slam on the breaks this time, however, and Neal's face smashed against her head rest.

"Don't encourage him, Neal," she said as she turned off the car. With all the fun inside, no one had really noticed that she had pulled into the parking of one of those home-style dinners—kind of like Granny's, but not as cool.

Watching the adults reminded Henry of that time Mary-Margaret taught the class about magnates and polarity—how sometimes magnates would be attracted to each other but other times they just pushed each other apart. Every time Gold tried to bridge the gap between him and Neal, Neal would take a single subtle step away. Every time Neal tried to get close to Emma, she would do the same.

It was annoying, really, but Henry knew it wouldn't last…the only empty seats in the small, crowded dinner were in a booth in the far corner. They weren't going to be able to keep up this odd dance for long.

"You guys go ahead and order. I've got to go to the restroom." Emma said, not even taking a place at the table.

"You want anything?" Neal asked as young waitress in a very small top came over to take their orders.

"I'm not hungry." She replied, not even turning around.

Neal clearly didn't believe her, but said nothing as she walked away.

"What can I get for you?" The waitress looked at Neal, and Henry had to wonder if she had something in her eyes, because she was blinking a lot…like a LOT, a lot, But Neal just ignored her and let Henry and Gold order first.

When it was Neal's turn, he turned to face Henry and asked, "Your mom still likes grilled cheese right?"

"Yeah, but she said she wasn't hungry."

"She was lying," Neal said, not missing a beat as turned back to the waitress. "Can I get a grilled cheese and tomato soup for Emma and a cheeseburger for me? Thanks."

"Sure thing."

"Wait," he said as she turned to leave, "can I get a slice of pumpkin pie?"

"Sorry, honey," she said as she smacked her gum, "we're out."

"What, really?" Neal said, sounding a bit like a whining kid. The waitress just shrugged and walked away.

Something cold and slimy took hold in his stomach. That was the last piece, but it just left Henry with more questions. Why didn't anyone tell him? Why did Emma act like she hated Neal?

But more importantly then that—more importantly then all of it—why had she lied?

"Excuse me; I got to go to the bathroom."


Well fuck, this was awkward. First Emma had left and then Henry, leaving Neal sitting alone in a dinner across from the one person he had hoped never to see again. It was like something out of his nightmares. But it was true. All of it. Neal had secretly pinched himself too many times today for him to actually be dreaming.

"Bae—"

"Don't." Neal could feel the anger in his eyes as he glanced towards the old man. He had tried so hard and for so long to let go of all this hatred, all this anger, that he was rather disappointed in himself for letting it show so easily…although if anyone deserved it…

"Just don't." This time it was little more than a whisper. A public place like this wasn't the right forum for this conversation. Not when it would inevitably end in blows or tears…or both. No. It was far better to save it for some place in Storybrooke. At least there they knew the sheriff and could probably get out of getting arrested for assault.

Or not. Thanks to this bastard's curse, Emma might just relish the opportunity to throw Neal's ass in a cell.

He had been kind enough to be near silent the entire fucking trip. Neal prayed nothing would change just yet.

Gold licked his lips and for a second, he was afraid the old man would say something, would insist on having the very conversation Neal wanted to put off as long as he could—forever if possible—but he didn't. He just gave a broken little nod and glanced out the window.

There was about a half minute of silence before the old man pointed. "What's Henry doing?"

Neal's head snapped around, and sure enough, there sat Henry in the front seat of the old bug. He wasn't doing anything Neal could see, but that's not what had him worried. What bothered him was the fact that Henry had said he was going to the bathroom and, even though he had only known the kid for a few hours, Neal knew that one of two things were happening. Either the kid was up to something or something was wrong.

Without excusing himself, he walked out, marching towards the closest thing to a true home he had ever had, to have his first real conversation with the son he never knew he had. It was a heavy, overwhelming thought, but he didn't let it slow him down.

Even in the almost literal five minutes he had known he was a parent, he knew the number one rule of the job: the kid came first.

Neal sat in the driver's seat beside him, watching, unsure what to do. Henry was clearly upset. He sat curled in the seat, his knees pulled as tightly to his chest as possible with his head resting on his knees. There was something heartbreakingly vulnerable about his posture, and it took Neal a moment to realize just what: Henry was dry sobbing, trying so desperately not to let anyone see. Neal reached out to touch him, hoping to grasp him on the shoulder, to tell him it was all going to be alright, even though the newfound father's words had failed him.

Henry jerked back, almost instinctually, and Neal dropped his hand to his lap. Of course the kid wouldn't want comfort from him—they were practically strangers.

Lost, Neal just sat there in the cold and the silence for a second before Henry stopped shaking long enough to talk. Slowly, with a devastated look on his face, he turned to Neal.

"My mom lied to me," he whispered, even more lost then Neal felt. "Why would she do that?"

Neal didn't know what Emma had lied about, but somehow he could guess. The kid had figured out what no one said aloud. He had figured out the connection between them, that Neal should have been there and wasn't, and whatever lie Emma had told to cover his ass…again. Once again, Neal was the cause for so much pain.

But the thing was, he wasn't one hundred percent sure that's what was going on. It could have been something completely different, and he didn't want to tip his hand so soon—not before he and Emma got a chance to talk again.

At the pub, it had been different. Then, it had just been mostly Neal begging her to understand why he did what he did. Why he felt there was no other choice, but soon the conversation was going to have to take on an entirely different tone. He knew about Henry now, and they were going to have to talk this one through. Neal wasn't going anywhere this time, and he wasn't convinced he would be able to stay away…even if Emma asked.

"What about?"

"She said my dad was dead." Henry looked at him, his face red and blotched. "Why would she say that?"

Neal sighed, not entirely sure what to say. He knew the feeling: the hurt and betrayal. When he had found out that his own mother wasn't dead, that she had just ran off, it hurt, but not near as much as it had when he realized that his father had lied to him. Even as a boy, he had understood the reasons behind it, but that didn't make it any easier to swallow.

"Maybe she was doing it to protect you."

"From what?" Henry half screamed, half cried. It broke his heart to see the kid like that, and really he had no idea what to do. Should he go behind Emma's back and clear the air, or wait for her to make her move. It was a snap decision, but one he knew was right. Emma was the love of his life, and he knew from the moment he betrayed her that, if he ever got a chance to make it up to her, he would do anything.

But the kid came first…no matter what Emma had to say about it.

"What gave it away?"

Henry gave a sharp intake of breath, as if he hadn't been entirely sure he was right until Neal confirmed it. A little part of Neal was annoyed that he could have just let it go. He could have played it off and not risked Emma's wrath. Mostly though, he was relieved to have it all out in the open. The kid deserved the truth and nothing else.

"The pie."

"What?" Of all the things, that was the last thing he expected to hear.

Henry whipped his eyes with his shirt sleeve. "She said you always complained when there was no pumpkin pie. It was probably the one part of that story that was true…"

Neal really wanted to ask for the rest of the story out of a morbid, masochistic form of curiosity, but he didn't. He could ask Emma later; Henry didn't need to dwell on her well-meant betrayal.

"Why did she lie?" he asked again, this time more forceful then before, his anger spreading to Neal too, "What did she think she had to protect me from?"

Neal tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dry. It was odd, but he found this almost as hard as turning in Emma, that hellish night. This truth was so much smaller in the grand scheme of things, but that didn't help. All he could do now was pray that Henry was more forgiving then his mother. It was devastating enough to have her hate him…

"I made her get into trouble for something I did." Neal kept it vague, hoping Henry would give him some clues as to just how much he knew about it all. It wouldn't do to traumatize the kid by telling him his mom had gone to prison if he didn't have to.

"Is that why she went to jail?" Neal's eyes shot up and he nodded. Apparently the kid knew more than he had expected.

"Why would you do that?" Neal couldn't tell if the roughness in the kid's voice was accusation or just left over from his crying spell, and frankly, Neal didn't want to know. Just in case…

He stared at the kid, studying him, trying to measure how much of the truth the kid needed and how much he could handle. He had always been good at reading people, and he forced himself to trust his instincts over his fear of hurting the boy.

Henry was a lot tougher then this: he could handle it all. And that's what Neal told him. The car. The Bonny and Clyde days. Tallahassee. The watches. August. The postcard. All of it.

There was a moment of silence as the kid let the truth sink in.

"Does mom know all this?" the kid asked curiously. There was no judgment in his voice, just a desire to understand.

Neal nodded, "But she's still mad. I get it, really I do, but that doesn't make it any easier."

"But you two still love each other, right?"

How the hell was he supposed to answer that? The kid's thoughts were written all over his face with a vividness to rival a sharpie marker. He wanted to believe that it would all work out, that Neal and Emma would get back together, that true love would always win in the end. And Neal wanted to believe it, too, but he had lived in this world for too long. It didn't always work that way.

Emma may never forgive him—it was a horrible truth, but one he had accepted long ago. After what he did, he wouldn't blame her, but he still hoped… and that was the problem. He still loved her more than anything, but he couldn't speak for Emma and he wasn't going to lie to the kid.

"I still love her, yeah."

It was all he could give him. That one incontrovertible truth, and Henry saw that.

"She still loves you, too," he said after a moment of silence, and Neal looked over at him, more than a little taken back at his words. He had been looking, searching for a sign all day that he wasn't the only one still in love, but all evidence had come back inclusive. Either she felt nothing and was being civil for Henry's sake, or she did still love and was just trying desperately to hide it. If it was the latter, her poker face had gotten better over the years.

So what had the kid seen that he hadn't?

"What makes you say that?"

Henry gave a knowing smile and looked around a bit theatrically. "She kept the car, didn't she?"

Neal blinked, completely caught off guard at the simplicity of the answer. It was such an obvious thing, but the truth was, it hadn't really registered in his mind. Perhaps he had been shocked, or perhaps the thoughts of Emma and the car had become so intertwined in his mind that he couldn't picture her without that one piece of him by her side. Either way, the kid was right. She could have sold it and used the money to buy another one—perhaps something newer—but she had kept that little yellow bug.

He couldn't argue with that logic, and Henry took his silence as his cue to give a wide smile—the kind that reached all the way to his eyes.

"It's kind of awesome, two of the only people in this world who are from Fairytale Land and not cursed finding each other."

To Neal that idea wasn't as romantic as the kid made it out to be. Were there such things as coincidences, or was this all a part of the plan? Had the old man manipulated things in some sick, twisted attempt to make it up to him? Was Emma supposed to be some sort of peace offering?

He had thought about this every day for eleven years, and had only been able to come to one conclusion: he didn't want to know. If he didn't know the truth, he could choose to believe the kinder of the two options, he could rely on some of the old stories he had grown up with to explain away some of the crazy.

"Maybe it's not a coincidence at all," Neal said, watching as Henry turned to look at him. The kid hadn't thought of the deeper implications. Good. With any luck, they will never cross his mind.

"There's a story in the Enchanted Forest—or at least the part I was from."

He paused, licking his lips. It had been a long time since he had thought of home in any other context besides the place where his nightmares started, and his memories was a little rusty.

"When humans were first created, they had four arms, four legs, two heads and one heart. The goddess of creation decreed they were prefect and complete in every way, and they lived in paradise; the goddess spent her time watching them, much as a mother would watch her children at play.

"The god of destruction, however, was getting frustrated. His wife was spending all her time with her new pets, and he was left all alone in the black void between worlds. One day, an idea struck him and, calling upon his magic, he summoned an enormous burst of wind to sweep the humans out of paradise and into the empty world below.

"The goddess was furious, for once her pets had touched unholy ground, they could no longer be welcomed back into paradise, but she would not strike at her husband. No, she had a better idea. Since her pets couldn't be brought back to paradise, she decided to bring it to them.

"She cried, and where her tears fell, magic grew into all the different kinds of plants and animals. From then on, the humans worked for their survival, learning to harvest the plants and tame the animals. It was hard work, but they never complained. Why would they? They were never alone.

"This did nothing to calm the god's temper, for his wife still spent all her days watching over the humans and he was still lonely. He cursed the land, convincing some of the animals to turn and try and eat the humans, and some of the plants to churn their stomachs with poison.

"The goddess saw what her husband had done, and bade animals to become loyal and docile for the humans and plants to gain curative properties so that the evils of the god could be undone. And so it went. Every time the god would curse the world with something: plague, famine, death, jealousy, fear; the goddess would bless it with something just as good and beautiful as his gifts were ugly and evil: health, bounty, life, love, courage.

"One day, the god got angry, frustrated, and tired of this tug of war over humanity, so he cut the rope. He descended down into the world and ripped each person in half, one by one, leaving each creature with just one head, two arm, two legs and half a heart. Still not satisfied, he took each piece and hurled them in opposite directions, cursed to spend eternity looking for their other halves.

"The goddess could not fix it; she could not undo the carnage he had wrought. As she stood, holding the broken, bloody, pieces of her children in her hands, she was sure he had won…sure that her beloved creations were to be forced to live forever in pain, but then, as she watched a single star fall to earth, she had an idea.

"Leaning down, she whispered a promise into each ear that, although she could not make them whole again, she could guarantee them that no matter how brief there light was amongst this vast ocean of darkness, they would find each other at least once. The trick would be to recognize it through the evils the god had set forth in the world. As long as they were brave, truthful and unselfish, they could have their happy endings."

Neal sighed and looked over at Henry, wondering he had lost the kid in an ancient and probably fact-less tale of a world and time long gone, but the kid was enthralled, his eyes absorbing every syllable.

"You think any of it's true?"

In any other situation, it would probably have been a rather dumb question, but not now. Neal was from a place where magic was everywhere, and Henry's life was dominated by the impossible.

"I don't know, kid," he said, shrugging. Hell, he hadn't completely believed it when he lived in that world, but now it was a lot better of an answer than anything he wanted to think about, "But I'd like to think that Emma and I were flung particularly far."

"Speaking of which," he said, glancing back at the dinner, "Your mom should be back from the bathroom by now and we don't want her worrying that we've fallen through a portal or anything."

He winked at Henry and got out the car, and walked towards the dinner.

They were half way back to the table when Neal noticed the way Emma's eyes were narrowed as she stared at them. It was only then that Neal realized one very unpleasant? truth: now they were going to have to tell Emma that Henry knew…

Oh, this was going to be fun.


Neal watched the tail lights of the bug as it retreated down Main Street, leaving him and Gold standing on the sidewalk in front of the only inn in the town. A bitter part of him, still in shock, had to wonder how it all came to this. How he had managed to fuck everything up so badly, and honestly, he didn't even know where to start fixing it.

That's why he hadn't come to Storybrooke himself after getting that fucking postcard. He had been too much of a coward to face Emma's hate. God, what a fool he'd been! But then again, he couldn't have known, not that that excused anything.

"Bae," Gold began.

Neal's head whipped around, and for the first time in a long time, he let all the pain and hatred he had towards his father—towards the Dark One—come erupting to the surface.

"Don't you dare," he hissed, not caring about the way Gold flinched back at his words.

He had spent so long and so much energy trying not the hate him, that it felt good to no longer fight it. It was a relief to let it all go. Neal hadn't hated him, not when he changed, and not when he let go. He had been frightened, yes, and he had been hurt, but he had never hated him.

Not until August told him the truth about the curse.

Neal cared about what had happened to the rest of the people stuck here—really he did—but that wasn't what made him hate the old man. It was what he did to Emma that had sent his blood boiling that night. He had ripped her family from her, and it was a hundred times worse than that night with the bean.

At least Neal had fourteen years' worth of good memories…even if it was almost impossible to get to them through the nightmares.

And Henry…oh, god, Henry. Because of this curse Neal hadn't just lost Emma, he had lost Henry as well.

"The worst part of all this is that you don't even fucking realize what you've done." He hissed, running his hands through his hair before picking up his duffel bag and walking to the door of the inn.

His fingers had just brushed the cool metal of the knob when he heard it, Gold's broken whisper.

"I…I think I'm beginning to."

Twenty years ago, seeing his father so sad, so broken, would have killed him. Twenty years ago, he would have done everything he could think of to comfort him.

But it wasn't twenty years ago, and there was too much darkness for him to see the stars right now.

He opened the door, ignoring the sound of the little bell announcing his presence to the matron of the place, and turned to face Gold.

There was only one thing he could say, and he didn't even bother hiding the venom in his voice as he hissed a single word and shut the door.

"Good."


The call hadn't been what Belle expected. She knew that Rumple took the day to go looking for his son, and it was entirely possible that he would have asked her to meet him. It had been a rather frightening idea, but she had tried to prepare herself for it, mentally at least, but it had been almost impossible. For starters, Rumple hadn't even been able to say how old Baelfire would be. It was entirely possible that Belle could find herself acting as some sort of step mother to a teenager, but it was just as likely that he was her age or older.

When she hadn't heard from Rumple by ten, she had assumed that the trip had taken a bit longer then he had anticipated. Belle wouldn't pretend that she wasn't a little disappointed that he hadn't called to let her know, but she understood - he had a lot on his mind right now.

What she hadn't expected, however, was Ruby calling her at one in the morning, letting her know that Rumple was sitting there at the dinner, drinking himself into a stupor.

Belle knew what it meant before Ruby had even finished explaining the situation: the meeting between him and Baelfire had gone badly. She hadn't even considered it a possibility until now—how could someone not want their family back?—but then again, Rumple hadn't given her many details of what had happened and she hadn't asked. She understood that he had spent so long shut off from everyone that he wasn't comfortable sharing his life story. All she had asked from him was the truth, for him not to lie to her, even if he wasn't willing to go into deep details.

He sat at the bar, looking completely devastated, one hand tightly clutching a glass of dark brown liquid; a thick, dark piece of paper clutched tightly in the other.

Pulling her robe closer, she walked up to him and snaked an arm around his shoulders. She didn't have to say anything; he knew what she was silently asking. He flattened the paper out almost reverently before sliding it over to her. Belle knew it was the liquor that made him share the truth so easily, but she still accepted what he offered.

Although the words scrawled on the paper broke her heart, it could only have been a million times worse for him.

Papa,

There are many things I want to say to you, things I think you need to hear, but I cannot bring myself to say them out loud. And I've tried, Papa, I've tried many times in all the ways I know how, but you won't hear me. Maybe it's because you don't want to hear these things. Maybe it is because you can't hear them anymore. Or maybe, maybe it is my fault. Maybe I have not tried hard enough, have not said these things clearly enough. But that is because…oh Papa…

I will try again now.

I am afraid, Papa. I am too afraid to talk to you anymore. I am too afraid to be around you. I am afraid when you touch me. Afraid when you look at me. Afraid when I wake in the middle of the night to see you spinning at your wheel. I am afraid all the time.

But I remember a time when I was not afraid. When it was just you and me, and I was a boy and you were just a man and I could hug you when I felt alone. You wrapped your arms around me and they were warm, flesh and bone. Now, they are something else, something that makes me tremble to touch…

You protected me in your own way, and I loved you for it. Now, I worry I need to be protected from you.

I know that you think you have changed for the better. But the truth is, Papa, that you have changed entirely. You just killed two people,two innocent people, not because they were any real threat, but because you could. You are not my Papa at all. You are the Dark One, Rumplestiltskin, and that is how I think of you now. I must remind myself to call you "Papa" every time I speak, because I fear what you will do if I should slip and call you something else…

But I also know that deep down, underneath your power, is my old Papa, and I only hope I can see him again. I found a bit of hope today. Morraine spoke to me of someone I can talk to, someone who may be able to help. I am going tonight, and I pray she is right.

I do love you, Papa, and I await the day that love is not tempered by fear.

Your

Bae

Belle slid the paper back into his hand and held him closer, pressing her lips to the crown of his head in comfort. It was all she could do, really. He was a private man, and she knew now was neither the time nor the place for her words. And really, what could she say? That it would all be alright in the end? She had faith that it would be, but that's not what he needed to hear right now.

Now he just needed someone to be there for him.

"Come on, Rumple," she whispered into his hair, "let's go home."

He did not protest as he slid off the stool and walked with her to the door.

Belle stopped at the door and turned her head around to face Red. Thank you. She mouthed to her friend, and Red just nodded, not asking for what. They both knew it was for everything. For calling her. For not asking questions. For not commenting on just how completely out of character it was for Rumple to be here.

Her apartment was right over the library, and that's why she decided to take him there. His home was too far to walk to, and she hadn't yet learned how to operate one of those…. cars. The library, however, was just down the street.

Although he tried to hide it, she could tell he was thoroughly drunk as he fumbled with the buttons on his jacket, quickly getting frustrated when they would not comply. With her help, his jacket, belt and shoes fell to the floor along with her robe.

Her bed was significantly smaller than his, but there was still enough room for them to both squeeze in.

"Oh Belle," he said, his voice breaking as she felt the top of her nightgown growing wet with his tears, "I've made such a mess of things and I don't know where to start fixing them."

She ran her hands through his hair, her fingers circling his earlobe as if he were a child who couldn't sleep. It pained her to see him like this, so completely broken, but she knew she couldn't fix it for him. This was between him and his son, and all she could do was this…be here for him in any way she could.

"You start by resting," she whispered, "you're exhausted and can't do anything tonight. That's a problem for tomorrow when you're thinking clearer, but I know your son loves you, and when people love each other, that is all they need. That love can be the stars in the darkness—it's what guides us through the night."

~~~ The End ~~~