Christmas Morning

Bae woke a little after the sun rose and tiptoed across the floor to peek and see if this Santa Claus had come and left presents for everyone in their stockings. To his relief, he saw that Rumple's stocking was stuffed full, but fearing what was in it, peeked inside and saw the orange and the large book in its depths. Smiling, Bae slipped back to the couch and curled up again with the blanket to his chin, to sleep until he was woken again by the mouthwatering smell of cinnamon rolls, sausage and coffee.

He went into the small necessary off the kitchen to wash up and found his father already in there, using a razor and some kind of foaming soap to shave with. Bae watched his father shave with something akin to envy and said, "Papa, may I try?"

Rumple gave him an amused glance. "Lad, you hardly have anything to shave yet. Do you want to cut yourself?"

Bae sighed. "No . . .but . . .when am I gonna start growing a beard and stuff?"

"When you're ready, son. You're fourteen, give it time." Rumple patted his face dry with the towel. He began to pull on a set of clothes Belle had provided him with after he had taken a bath in the wooden tub. They were a soft crimson shirt and deerskin fringed trousers.

Bae gave him an approving glance. "Those look nice on you, Papa."

"Glad you approve," Rumple smirked. "Now go and wash up, Bae. We need to be clean and presentable for this Christmas celebration. You can take a bath too, since the water's clean and Belle warmed it over the stove."

"Papa, it's winter," Bae muttered.

Rumple gave him a pointed look. "What's that got to do with being clean?"

"Umm . . .I might catch my death with wet hair."

"Not if you wait till it's dry to go outside. Now take a bath, son. Or do you need me to assist you?" he mock-growled.

"What? No! I'm not four, Papa!" his son yelped in horror.

"Then quit grousing like one and get yourself clean," Rumple ordered, then he departed after making sure Bae had a towel to dry off with.

When Rumple emerged from the necessary, leaning on his stick, his floofy hair sticking up slightly from his rough drying of it, Belle was just sliding the pan of cinnamon rolls from the oven. She almost let the pan tilt and the rolls fall out onto the floor when she caught sight of her houseguest all cleaned up. Her heart suddenly leaped into her throat and she bit back a delighted gasp. "Mr. Gold! You look very . . . dashing in those clothes. Lumiere would approve."

"Glad to hear that, dearie, since they were his clothes," Rumple said with a small giggle of nervousness. He was actually glad Belle had been kind enough to lend him these clothes, since his old ones needed to be washed.

She blushed and straightened enough so the rolls stayed in the pan. She had no idea that her slight and rather mild-mannered and humble guest would clean up so fine. She knew that most women wouldn't have given the spinner a second glance since he was skinny and slight of build and walked with a cane, but there was something about him that drew her eye. He wasn't conventionally handsome—with blond hair and blue eyes, or dark hair and green eyes-but his soft flyaway hair that hung in his eyes, which were a deep brown, like chestnuts just roasted on the fire, and his mobile mouth drew her like a moth to a flame.

It unnerved her a bit, for she had only felt that kind of desire for one man—her husband Winter Storm, who had chosen the name Adam for his English one, since it was easier for the English trappers and traders to pronounce than his Indian one. Winter Storm had been thirty-seven to her twenty-seven and she suspected Mr. Gold was in his late forties or thereabouts, not all that old, for a man. But, like Storm, she sensed that Mr. Gold had a good heart and among her adopted people it was that which counted more than looks.

Oh admit it! You like him for how he looks AND his heart and his quiet manner, Belle! Her conscience reproved. He was also one of the very few white men who didn't look at her with scorn or pity or heaven forbid, lust when they saw her in town. Though she wondered if that would change should he find out about her past as a squaw? And Regina's as well?

But she wouldn't worry about that now. Sufficient to the day are the problems thereof, she reminded herself and today was Christmas. As Mr. Gold limped to the table, Bellle said, "Won't you have a cup of coffee, Rum, and a cinnamon bun?"

"Is that what I've been smelling for the past half an hour, dearie?" he asked, twitching his nose.

"It is."

"Then I would be delighted to have one," he replied, his eyes twinkling irresistibly.

As Belle served Rumple some breakfast, Bae came out of the bathing room, his hair damp but clean as well. Regina suddenly appeared in the doorway, her cheeks flushed slightly, her dark eyes glowing and cried, "Bae! Santa came and left us presents in our stockings!"

Bae grinned, for her enthusiasm was catching.

She was wearing a pretty red dress, like a bright winter apple, which set off her dark hair and eyes to perfection. Her tiny feet were encased in pretty red dyed moccasins and she had wound red ribbons thorough her braids.

Bae thought he had never seen a girl so pretty, then he flushed and looked down at his boots for a moment.

"Mama, can we open them?" Regina asked eagerly, sounding now like the thirteen-year-old girl she was.

"After breakfast, Regina. Now come and eat," Belle urged, and set the pan of iced cinnamon rolls down in the middle of the table, along with some sausage and the cream and sugar bowl. She poured coffee for all of them, a special treat for Christmas, since coffee was expensive and could only be afforded once or twice a year.

Everyone enjoyed the cinnamon rolls and after the pan was soaking in the wash tub, they all went into the main room to open their stockings. Rumple rubbed his hands eagerly under the table in anticipation before he followed the others.

Regina ran to the mantle and unhooked each of the stockings in turn. "Here's yours, Mama," she handed Belle her blue stocking. "And here's mine," she removed her red one from the nail and set it down on the rocking chair. "This one is yours, Bae," she handed him the one next to hers. Then she took down Rumple's. "And this one's for you, Rum."

"Thank you, dearie," he murmured, but didn't open his yet, wanting to see Belle's expression when she opened her stocking to find more than an orange inside.

Regina tore open her stocking first. "Ooh! An orange! I love them!" she held the orange up to her nose and sniffed it happily. Oranges were another rare treat and only available on special occasions. Then she found the peppermint stick and sighed in bliss for she loved candy. When she got to the toe of the stocking she found a lovely enameled red apple necklace on a fine velvet cord. "Oh! Mama, look! He brought me an apple necklace! Just like the one we saw in Mr. Clarke's shop!" That was Storybooke's general store owner.

"That's beautiful, Regina," Belle exclaimed. "See, I told you Santa would come and leave you something nice." She put the necklace on her daughter. It went perfectly with Regina's dress.

She looked at Belle. "Now you open yours, Mama!"

"All right, but—" Belle opened her stocking and her eyes widened in amazement when she pulled out a lovely scarf, made of cobalt wool and it even had the reverse blue willow branch knitted into it with some cream yarn. She was speechless with delight.

"Mama, how splendid!" Regina cried. "It matches your eyes perfectly!"

Belle wrapped the soft scarf about her neck, marveling at the intricate knotwork designs in the weave. "I've never had a scarf this fine," she murmured, and then she looked right at Mr. Gold as she said it.

And in that look was a gratitude and appreciation so heartfelt that it made him blush and smile in return, a shy smile, for even now he was still uncertain and awkward around women. Milah had never smiled much around him, now that he thought about it, and once he had been branded a coward, never again. But even when she had, it had never been like this, a smile like the sun coming out after the rain, honest and pure, that warmed him right down to his boots. Milah had appreciated what he brought for her, he realized, but she had never appreciated him. But Belle had known him for barely a day, and she did.

Only one other person had ever done that, and that one was sitting beside him.

Belle couldn't get over the thoughtfulness Rum had displayed, for she knew in an instant that he had played Santa and knitted her the beautiful scarf for a present. Her fingers stroked the cobalt length of wool, marveling all over again at the intricate pattern on the bottom and the way he had worked in the willow pattern in contrasting cream. Belle could knit socks and potholders, but the quiet spinner put her to shame, and she knew that she was in the presence of a master, and felt honored and touched that he had chosen to make her this gift.

One hand still on the scarf, as if afraid it might vanish into the air, Belle reached into her stocking and drew out an orange and another stick of peppermint. Then she turned and said to Rumple, "Now let's see what Santa brought you, Mr. Gold."

"Yeah, Papa. What's in there?"

Rumple glanced away from the trio of curious eyes and opened his stocking to find . . . "Another orange! And a candy cane!" He set those items aside to enjoy later. The stocking still bulged and he pulled out a leatherbound book with a title stamped on it in black letters.

"Great Expectations—by Charles Dickens," he read aloud. "How brilliant! Now how did he know I love to read?" he mused, and winked at Belle.

"Santa knows everything. He watches you through his magic seeing globe." Regina informed him. "And that's a great book, Rum. Mama and I read it together."

His slender fingers caressed the leather, and he said, "Then I'm sure I shall enjoy it very much, dearie." He was also touched at Belle's kindness. She had saved his life and Bae's, and given them a place to stay and food. And now, it seemed, made them a part of her Christmas celebrations as well. Smiling, he turned to his son. "And what did Santa bring you, Bae?"

Bae had been impatiently waiting for his turn, and now he tore open his stocking and found the familiar thick peppermint stick and an orange also. Then he reached down in the toe and found another book, but unlike Rumple's this one had a colored illustration on the cover.

"Fairy Tales From Around the World," he read the title aloud, then looked at the lovely drawing beneath it.

His mouth dropped open.

For below the gold scrolled title was a picture of a girl much like those he had known back in his realm, wearing a red skirt and white blouse surrounded by a roomful of straw and beside her was a spinning wheel. Sitting at the wheel, spinning straw into gold, was an imp with golden scaled skin dressed in leather pants and a flowing shirt with haunted brown eyes. Underneath it was the word Rumpelstiltskin.

"Rumplestiltskin!" he blurted.

"What?" Rumple almost jumped out of his skin at his actual name.

"Look, Papa!" Bae shoved the book in front of his nose. The name was spelled differently, and the drawing of the imp slightly different as well, but it was unmistakably a story about . . .his papa!

Rumple gaped like a half-wit.

"That's so . . ." he began, unable to articulate his astonishment.

Regina peered over Bae's shoulder. "That's the story of Rumplestiltskin," she explained. "Some authors like the Grimm brothers, tell it differently, but this one has the miller's daughter calling on Rumplestiltskin to save her life and making a deal with him for three nights and on the third night, he asks her for—"

"Her first born child, I suppose," Rumple said softly, with a snort of disbelief. That was the part all the stories got wrong.

"No, he asks her to marry him," Regina corrected.

"Really, dearie? But I thought that was the king."

"Oh he does. But the miller's daughter refuses him, because who wants to marry a man who nearly had her killed? And she marries the imp instead and they live happily ever after."

"There's a new ending for that tale, Papa," Bae put in. "I can't wait to read it. Are the other stories in here like that?"

"Some of them, yes," Regina said. "It depends on where they were told and who was telling them. Mama says folk tales and fairy tales differ from region to region."

"You should find plenty of interesting stories in there, Bae. And when you're done, I would like to read it," Rumple stated.

"Well, you two can get started then," Belle chuckled. "While I go and put the turkey in to roast."

She went to undo her scarf when Regina cried, "Wait! I have presents for you also."

"Regina, you didn't need to get me anything," Belle protested.

"But I wanted to," the girl declared, the hurried from the room. She returned moments later with a brown wrapped package in her arms, and carrying a large beautifully carved walking staff with colored beads at the top.

She handed Belle the package first.

Belle unwrapped it to find it contained a beautiful cape made of beaver fur. "Regina! When did you make this?"

"While you weren't looking," the girl replied impishly.

"But where did you get the pelts?"

"From Horse. He brought them to me as gifts, already cured, and then I sewed them. I figured you could use a nice cape when you had to go out on rounds."

"It's lovely, and I thank you very much!" Belle said gratefully. The winter wind was bitter this year and cut through her like a knife, especially when she had to go and help the citizens of Storybrooke who still came to her for cures. It was the one reason she had been allowed to stay, since without her they had no one competent enough to help her when they became sick.

Then Belle saw what else Regina was holding and asked, "What are you doing with Willow Heart's old staff, Regina?"

The girl said simply, "Willow Heart told me that she was giving me this to hold, and I would know when the time is right to pass it on. Willow told me it would be needed one day by someone I hadn't met yet. But now I have." She held the shaman's staff out to Rumple. "Mr. Gold, Merry Christmas. That old stick you're using won't last. But this will."

"Lass, you don't need to give me that," he protested. "That looks like an heirloom or something."

"It was a shaman's staff, but Willow Heart gave it to me to pass on to one who needed it, when she was dying," the girl said matter-of-factly. "She said I would know the proper time and who would need it. And I do. Take it, sir. It's yours."

Rumple hesitated a moment more, then he clasped the staff in his hand, not wanting to seem ungrateful. "Regina, this is too much, but . . .thank you kindly." He examined the staff curiously. "Do these carvings of animals and wind and things mean something to your people?"

"Yes. A shaman has all the spirit animal guides on her staff," she pointed to each in turn, naming the animal. "Wolf, Bear, Beaver, Horse, Dog, Cat, Eagle, Raven . . ." Then she pointed to the other carvings. "These are the four winds and sacred directions-east, west, north, and south. And the sun symbol stands for the power of the light, and this one of the eclipse is the power of the underworld. A shaman has the power, you see, of life and death."

"Is the staff magical?" Bae asked wonderingly.

"Well . . .it was once, when Willow Heart had it. She used it in her castings sometimes. But now . . ."

"Now 'tis just a stick to help me walk," Rumple said swiftly. "I have no magic, you know that, Baelfire. I'm just a spinner and weaver."

"And a master at that," Belle smiled.

Rumple dipped his head in acknowledgement.

Then Regina handed Bae a smaller package. "And this is for you."

Bae opened it to find a hand-carved whistle in the shape of a hawk. "Neat!"

"It's a bird whistle. So you can call the birds to you," Regina explained. "If you learn how to call them, you can feed them and sometimes some will eat from your hands."

"Thanks! Umm . . .can we try it out now?" the boy asked eagerly.

Regina glanced at Belle. "Mama, do you need me to help you cook or can I—"

"Go, you two." Belle waved them off. "Go and have fun calling the birds. It's Christmas. I'll be fine. I have most of the work done already."

"And I can help if you'd like," Rumple offered shyly.

"C'mon, Bae! I'll teach you how to call starlings and jays and maybe even a raven!" Regina hooted, and the two pulled on their coat and cloak and raced outside into the frosty morning to see if they could call some birds.

Once the children were out of earshot, Belle turned to her houseguest and said, "You knitted that scarf for me, didn't you, Rum?"

"I did. For you deserve something too for Christmas," the spinner answered. "'Twasn't right we all had gifts to unwrap and you had none. I would have liked to make you a shawl but there wasn't time or enough yarn, I fear."

"What you made me was wonderful enough," Belle assured him. "I have never seen anyone knit so well in all my life. Where did you learn?"

"Two spinster sisters took me in when I was a lad and my papa abandoned me," Rumple replied. "They taught me all that I know about working with cloth and knitting."

"I'm sorry your papa left you, but it sounds like you may have gotten a better life after all," she said sympathetically. Then she recalled his odd clothing and said probingly, "Where do you come from, Rum?"

"Far away," he replied evasively.

"From across the sea? Europe? Russia? The Far East?"

"Something like that," he answered. Then he smoothly changed the subject. "What would you be needing my help with, Mrs. Winters? I may walk with a limp, but I have two good hands."

Thus recalled that she needed to get the turkey in the oven to eat supper, Belle quickly abandoned her questioning for now, though she vowed to try and pry some more information out of her reclusive guest if he could later. She had a feeling that Mr. Gold was more than he seemed, and she loved mysteries.

"You can help me set the table while I season the turkey and put it in the oven," she told him, and ushered him into the kitchen.

As he walked slightly ahead of her, she had to admit that Regina had been right in bequeathing Willow Heart's staff to him. It was a little taller than he was, and looked fine as he walked with it, lending him an air of importance and mystery that he hadn't had until then.

She smiled and showed him where the plates and silverware were located in the hutch, and the good tablecloth embroidered with birds and fleur de lis which had been Lumiere's mother's.

As Rumple set the table and Belle seasoned the turkey and placed it in the oven to roast, Bae and Regina were outside behind the cabin, where Regina attempted to show Bae how to imitate bird calls with his whistle.

The first time he blew it, the whistle barely made a noise.

"Uh . . .let me try it again." He blew again, and this time it screamed like something dying.

Regina covered her ears.

"Sorry," Bae apologized.

"Here. Like this," Regina took the whistle back and blew carefully into it while moving her fingers over the small holes.

The sound that emerged sounded like a sparrow chirping.

"See? Now you try. Blow softly, like a breeze, not a winter storm."

Bae tried again, and this time sounded less like a banshee. "I almost got it."

Regina giggled. "You just need practice."

After about ten minutes, Bae said, "Let me see how many birds you can call with this."

Regina took the whistle and imitated a sparrow, thrush, and a finch.

All three birds fluttered close beside them and then she handed Bae some corn she had filched from the chicken feed bin and they scattered it on the ground.

The songbirds hopped over and began to peck at it eagerly, while the two watched and smiled.

Soon more birds came and were pecking at the corn. Regina handed Bae the rest of the corn and said, "I'm going to get more!" then she skipped off to the barn to do so.

Bae continued to throw the corn for the birds and try and practice breathing softly, not wanting to blow the whistle around his neck and frighten them off. The birds' tiny feet left minute tracks in the soft snow and Bae thought about having a snowball fight with Regina when she returned.

Regina emerged from the barn with a wooden scoop of chicken feed and gasped as a tall Mesquakie brave with a single crow feather in his hair appeared in front of her. "Running Horse! What are you doing here?" she cried in Algonquin.

"Saying hello. And wondering why you haven't accepted my token," he said, and smiled at her. He was a year older than she was and they had been friends since they were children.

"Horse, I can't. My place is here now, with my mama. You know that."

He stiffened, his eyes flashing angrily. "Have the white men tamed you then, Raven Heart?" He used her old Mesquakie name. "You going to put your hair up like some good white squaw and wear a cap and all now?"

Regina glared at him angrily. "Stop it, Horse! You're acting like an idiot! I told you before, what you want can never be. This is my home now. With my mother."

"They treat you like outcasts!" he snorted. "And yet you want to stay with them? Why?"

"Because I can stay nowhere else!" she growled. "Horse, we've been over this ten times. Why can't you just go and court Summer Breeze or Wild Cherry?"

"Because I don't want those soft maidens. I want the wild and magical raven," he retorted.

Suddenly they heard Bae calling for Regina.

"I have to go," she said abruptly.

He grabbed her hand. "Why? Who is he?"

"He's a guest who's staying at my house for awhile, that's all." She tried to pull free.

"A white boy," Horse sneered. "I'll bet he can't track for spit. And if he's what was making all that noise . . ." he snorted.

Regina pulled free. "He's learning how to call the birds. I remember you were none too good yourself, Moon Calf!" she used his old childhood name on purpose, to illustrate that he was behaving like one.

"Better than a white boy any day! Why are you wasting your time with him, when you could hunt with me?"

"Because unlike a certain jabbering fool, he has manners!" Regina growled. "Good day, Horse!" She swung around and stomped off around the corner of the cabin.

The older boy glowered after her, and then vanished back into the trees, his heart cold and filled with jealousy towards this unknown white boy, who was probably a weakling who couldn't run a mile without falling down, or shoot a bow and hit the broad side of an oak tree.

Bae looked up as Regina came around the side of the cabin. "Hey, where did you go? The birds all flew off because there was nothing left to eat. Did your mama call you to help her or something?"

Regina shook her head. "No, I just . . .it doesn't matter what I was doing." She scattered the feed in a wide swath with the scoop.

Bae glanced at her, trying to figure out why she seemed irritated. Maybe it was because she thought he was stupid for not being able to whistle birds from the sky.

The corn sparkled like golden nuggets on the snow as the two watched and waited for the birds to come back and eat.

They waited for several minutes, and then Regina, angry because Horse had made her late and spoiled her good mood with Bae, did something she shouldn't have, and Called a raven by its secret Name.

Bae stared in shock as a bird that was almost as big as his head came soaring down through the trees and landed on Regina's shoulder.

"Hello, Brother Raven," she greeted the bird in her native tongue and stroked its head.

The raven cawed and nuzzled her and for an instant she forgot that she had an audience, reveling in the bond she shared with the bird, and the magic that was her birthright flowed through her veins.

Bae just watched as she continued to stroke and talk to the bird, who seemed to understand her.

It was only when the raven cawed at him, that Regina recalled he was there . . .and what she had done right in front of him.

With a gasp of dismay, she murmured, "Fly away, Brother. Our time here is done."

The raven launched itself skyward and disappeared over the tree tops, leaving Regina to try and explain why a huge bird suddenly came and perched on her arm and "talked" with her.

But before she could say anything, Bae blurted, "You—you can do magic, can't you?"

Regina bit her lip hard. "I . . .I . . ."

"You were really talking with that bird, weren't you? Was it your familiar?"

Stung, she snapped defensively, "I'm not a witch! Not like you mean! I am—or was—a shaman's apprentice." Then color rose in her cheeks, flushing them a dusky pink.

"But you can do magic," Bae persisted. "Like—" he almost said "like my papa" before he caught himself.

"Yes," Regina admitted, then she waited for him to point at her and make the sign for the devil and call her a savage witch and spit on her.

But Bae just shrugged. "So what can you do? Talk with animals? Brew potions?"

"I . . .I can speak some animal tongues," Regina admitted. "And know some cures for different ailments. You . . .you don't care?"

"I . . .knew someone who used to do magic. So I'm used to it."

At this revelation, Regina gaped at him. "You are? Then you don't think I'm evil? Or-or going to put the evil eye on you or something?"

"If you were going to do that, you'd have already done it," Bae murmured. "But . . .how come you can use magic? I thought . . .I thought that was all made up . . ." he trailed off now wondering if his papa's curse could really be broken here. This was supposed to be a Land Without Magic. He glanced away, and saw some birds pecking the corn, and thought maybe the Blue Fairy had lied.

"Not my kind of magic," Regina told him. "Shaman's magic is one with the earth, the sky, the rivers, and all living things. It's the spark of creation."

"Then you can't . . .err . . .change someone into something? Or curse them?"

"No . . .because I haven't learned anything like that. And I wouldn't want to curse anyone unless I had a very good reason. What you do with magic always comes back threefold," she recited a saying her mistress had taught her. "But I can Call animals if I need to. And if I'm ever in the woods alone and cold, I can do this."

She held out her hand and fire bloomed in the center of it.

Bae flinched from the heat.

Regina looked crestfallen. "I'm sorry." She cupped her hand and willed the flame to go out.

"No, it's all right. I told you, I'm not afraid. It's just a little hot around here," he joked softly.

But she let the flame flicker and die, saying, "I'm not supposed to use magic anyhow. I promised my mama . . .but then I just forgot . . .because I was angry . . ."

"Angry? Why? Was it something I did?"

"No. It was something that . . . Daniel did," Regina sighed, using the name the old trapper, Lumiere, had given her friend.

"Huh? Who's that?"

"He used to be my best friend. Until everything changed," the former chief's daughter said quietly.

Sensing she was growing upset, Bae said, "You don't need to tell me if you don't want to."

She shook her head. "No. I need . . .I don't know what I need!" she glared at the ground. Then she jerked her head up and muttered, "That's not true. I need someone to just listen."

Bae leaned against the fence post. He raised an eyebrow. "I'm all ears, dearie," he teased, mimicking his father.

So Regina told him about what Horse wanted, and why she couldn't accept his suit, and how the ignorant townspeople of Storybrooke would have driven her into the cold to die for being an evil witch, but Belle had saved her and because she refused to turn against Regina the townsfolk had cast her out too.

"So that's why I can't leave her, Bae. She's my mother, for all that she never bore me. My own mother died when I was a little girl, and Belle was the closest thing to a mother I ever had since, and Willow Heart was like my grandmother. After what's happened. . .I don't think I can ever fit in with their society. But I won't leave my mama to marry him, I don't love him, not that way, and my heart is here," she gestured to the cabin. "He doesn't understand that."

Bae took her hand in his. "I do. You're like me . . .your heart is with your family. Back at home . . . some people thought I should leave my papa, only I wouldn't, because like you he's my family, and you don't leave your family." Not even when they're dark sorcerers who scare the piss out of you, he thought ruefully.

Regina gave his hand a squeeze. She didn't know why or how, but Bae understood her better than anyone ever had since her father had died. Like Belle. "I'm glad you came here, Bae." It was true. Yet even with all she had revealed, still she had not told him all of it.

"You know . . .so am I, even if it was by accident," he mused.

She laughed. "Or fate."

He smiled back, then picked up some snow and threw it at her.

She squealed and then threw some back, nailing him in the neck.

"Ooh! I'm gonna get you for that!" he threatened, and then lunged after her, with some more snow in his hand.

Regina stumbled backwards, giggling, and ran behind the barn with Bae in hot pursuit.

Page~*~*~*~Break

Belle basted the turkey while Rumple decided to make some tea for them both.

Finding she had only a small amount of regular tea, and a lot of some other kinds of tea leaves, he mixed a few kinds together and then poured the hot water over the little steeping basket and let the teapot steep for about four minutes.

When Belle went to sit down and have tea, the most delicious smell came out of the teapot when she poured the tea into her cup. "Oh! This smells heavenly! Rum, what is this?"

"Oh just a few different teas I blended together."

"What ones did you use?" she asked curiously, after adding a sugar cube and a little cream and taking a sip.

"The black tea, some almond tea, some caramel tea and some little bits of cocoa and a sprinkling of vanilla," he told her. "Do you like it?"

"I love it!" she said, taking another swallow. "It's like . . .Christmas morning, like unwrapping the best gift ever, like . . ." Her cobalt eyes glowing she murmured, "I think you've made a new tea blend, Mr. Gold."

He sipped his own cup. "You know, this is good. It reminds me of . . .a summer's day long ago, and playing with my boy in the meadow." Before the soldiers had come to take Bae away, before he had been cursed into a monster, back when he still had hope. As he swallowed he thought of how slowly hope had started to come back into his life, creeping up on silent cat's paws, surrounding him with its light, as he drank the wonderful tea he had created and thought a miracle had occurred right there.

Belle went to go and baste the turkey again, and soon scrumptious smells were filling the cabin. She heated up the glazed carrots and put small rolls in to bake.

While she was doing that, Rumple decided to clear the tea things from the table. He carried the teapot and Belle's cup over to the washtub and set them carefully down on the table next to it.

Then he went back and picked up his own cup to bring it over to the washtub.

Belle turned around as she was basting the almost golden brown bird and said jokingly, "Once Regina came in from tending the chickens and complained about the rooster, said he chased her like a hen all over the yard and bit her on the bottom. And I was so mad I cried, 'The randy old thing! Oughta cut it off!'"

Rumple was so startled he dropped his cup on the floor.

Belle blinked at him. "Well, wouldn't you say he ought to have it cut off?"

Rumple knelt and picked up the cup in dismay. He held up the cup, looking very like a guilty child. "It's chipped." There was a very small chip in the rim."It's only a small chip. You can barely see it," he said worriedly.

"It's fine, Rum. I'm sorry if I startled you with my little joke." Belle shoved the turkey back into the oven.

His mouth quirked up. "For a minute there I was afraid you might cut mine off."

Belle giggled. "Really, Mr. Gold! As if I wanted to spend Christmas Day with a headless man!"

Rumple started giggling. "Oh, dear! Oh dearie dearie dear!"

Belle started to laugh too. "What's so funny?"

"Because I thought you meant . . ." he almost fell on the floor he was giggling so hard.

"Oh!" her eyes went wide as she comprehended his mistake. "You really thought . . . you wicked imp!"

"Guilty, I'm afraid."

Then Belle doubled over laughing, nearly dropping the cup on the floor again.

That was how the two teens found them when they entered the cabin a few moments later.

"Something sure smells good in here," Bae sniffed appreciatively.

Regina looked from Belle to Rumple. "Did something happen?" she asked.

"Nothing much," her mother replied serenely. "I told Mr. Gold a joke, which startled him so much he chipped a cup."

Regina smirked. "I'm not surprised. Sometimes your jokes are very . . . strange, Mama."

"You can say that again, dearie," Rumple teased, earning himself a mock-glare from Belle.

"Go wash up, you two. Supper will be on the table shortly."

Neither child needed to be told twice.

Belle found the fruity pear wine that Lumiere had said came all the way from France, made from Anjou pears, and that he'd only drank on special occasions. She brought a bottle up from the cellar and opened it so they could all toast and celebrate this Christmas.

She poured a small glass for each of them, and then said, "Let's have a toast—to family and new friends and all the hope of the Christmas season!"

Then they all clinked glasses and drank.

Rumple carved the turkey with Belle's sharp carving knife, and mischievously, Belle hummed "Three Blind Mice" while he did so.

Rumple had to stop he was laughing so much, before his fingers became a casualty.

But finally the turkey was carved and everyone had some with delicious chestnut stuffing, cranberry relish, carrots, and rolls. Belle had also made gravy from the drippings.

Bae remarked he had never tasted a bird so tender as this turkey, and Regina said turkey was one of the great staples of the Algonquin tribes, along with maize, squash, and beans. "They call them the Three Sisters, and plant them together always."

Belle lofted an eyebrow, surprised that Regina was so talkative about Indian customs around these strangers, but then she caught how Bae and Regina seemed comfortable around each other and wondered if Regina had shared some of her past with the boy and he had not judged her like those in Storybrooke.

It almost made her want to confess her past to Mr. Gold. She thought he didn't seem like the men in Storybrooke, all too ready to judge her for being Winter Storm's bride, and looking at her with disgust mixed with pity for being an Indian captive. She knew the only reason she had been allowed to stay in town had been because she had healing skills they needed, though she had also been a librarian back in Boston and was educated at almost a university level.

But at the last minute her heart failed her, and she decided to wait to tell Rum about her past . . .perhaps tomorrow once they had returned from town she would reveal it.

Tonight, however, she was content to keep her past in the past, and tomorrow was a new day.

Once they had all finished dinner, and the kitchen was tidied and all the leftovers stored in the cellar, they all retired to the main room to sprawl in front of the hearth and relax with cups of Rumple's new tea and roasted chestnuts. Belle picked up the book she had been trying to finish for a week now—The Count of Monte Cristo, Rumple started to read Great Expectations, Bae read his fairy tale book, starting with the Rumplestiltskin tale, and Regina stitched an apple on a handkerchief of hers to cover a stain she couldn't get out.

The fire hissed, crackled, and popped in the grate, and though the wind shrilled in a lonely crescendo about the cabin, inside all of the occupants were snug and warm, reading about daring escapes, swordfights, magic, and princes in disguise. The fire and two large oil lamps cast plenty of light to read by, so no one had to strain their eyes, and after an hour or two of companionably reading, Belle set her book down and said, "Regina, shall we sing some carols?" She looked at the two men, who were still reading their Christmas gifts avidly. "If you won't mind, that is?"

"Huh?" Bae looked up from reading about Baba Yaga and Vasilisa. "Um . . . no, go ahead. Right, Papa?" He nudged Rumple with his foot.

"Hmm . . . what did you say, dearie?" He lifted his eyes from his book.

"Regina and I would like to sing some Christmas carols, it's what we usually do on Christmas. Unless we'd disturb you? I know what it's like to get lost in a book."

"Once she got so lost she forgot about the bread baking in the oven and burnt it black as cinders!" Regina related with a wicked smirk.

"No, I'd like to hear these songs," Rumple encouraged, and set his book on his lap, marking his place with a finger.

Belle started out with the classic, "We Wish You A Merry Christmas", then "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen", and segued into "Away In A Manger", "The Ivy and the Holly", "O Holy Night", "Greensleeves", and finished with "Silent Night."

When they were finished, Bae and Rumple applauded and Bae said, "You two ought to be minstrels or something! You're incredible!"

"Quite right, Bae. What a lovely concert, dearies!" Rumple said, smiling.

Belle and Regina curtsied.

"We're glad you liked it," Belle said.

Then Belle read aloud a poem called "A Visit From St. Nicholas" by Clement Moore, which she said she ought to have read last night, but had forgotten about, but better late than never.

Afterwards, they all bid each other good night, for tomorrow would be a busy day too, as they would go to Storybrooke so Rumple could "take the waters" as it was called, and see if they helped his crippled leg.

Bae was soon snoozing, with visions of sugar plums dancing in his head.

But Rumple remained awake awhile longer, thinking how for the first time in a long time, he had actually enjoyed a woman's company. Yet he knew it could not last. Nothing good in his life ever had . . .except for his son.

He glanced over at Bae, curled up on his side, asleep, and whispered, "Good night, my wee boy," which was something he had not called his son since he was a toddler, or at least not where Bae could hear him. Then he pulled up his own blankets, and was swept off by Morpheus into the realm of dreams, where he danced with Belle through a meadow of wildflowers and dozens of butterflies, fluttering about them in a rainbow of wings.

And as the fire died down to embers, its glow struck the staff leaning against the wall beside Rumple's bed, and the carvings seemed to shimmer for one brief moment, with a violet eldritch light. Then it died and no one was the wiser.

A/N: The tea Rumple invents is actually a real tea blend, called Mr. Gold tea and you can purchase it from a shop online called adiago teas. It really does taste as I've described and I love it!

I also did a little role reversal with the chipped cup. And in case you're wondering what the deal is with the oranges, oranges back then were very exotic fruit and most people couldn't afford them all year round, and so they were a special treat.

What challenges await Rumple, Belle, Regina, and Bae in Storybrooke? Find out next chapter! Thanks for all the awesome reviews and reads! Hope your holiday was merry and your New Year will be bright!