Notes: So... Anyone else as excited for crazy Rumple as I was last night? Granted, I was all revved up for a full-on Rumplestiltskin episode, but alas, that looks like it's going to be next week. I hear there's one coming, but patience has never been my strong suit. For those that loved last night's episode as much as I did, I'd suggest hopping over to Robin4's page and reading her short Feed the Madness. I cannot give it high enough praise!
Chapter Three.
He'd been up before the sun, finally limping his way into the empty ballroom just as the earliest light was creeping in through where there had been windows and a door the night before. Rumplestiltskin surveyed the damaged, grateful that the servants had not cleared it away just yet. His connection to his magic had been there that morning when he woke, though weakened, so he had opted for his cane - tucked away in Belle's trunk - as to the spell that would slowly eat away had what reserve he had left. After all, he'd most likely need that for his investigation.
Three hundred years of a wide range of magical study had left him with a great deal of knowledge. His personal favourites had always been those curses that no one bothered with. They were usually old, gathering dust on their brittle scrolls when he uncovered them and he was able to coax the magic back into it. He hadn't limited himself, though, and that had been part of the fun for the spinner that had been lucky enough to know how to read a bit, much less follow any course of study outside of his own trade. Because of this, it was rare to come across something that had felt as foreign as the magic had the night before. It had been a curse, he was sure, but a properly trained a sorcerer should be able to get a sense of the caster when as close to it as he'd been. When the Dark Curse had filtered into the mines below Snow White and Charming's castle and the smoke had filled his lungs and whisked them all of to Storybrooke the first time Regina had been all through it. He'd felt her anger and her malice, her desperation woven into the curse. So desperate she'd killed the only person she had had left to love just to cast it. He'd known she would. He'd counted on that desperation.
In the curse that had shattered its way into the ballroom, though, there had been nothing like that. There was no desperate hate nor even calculated intent. There were no emotions at all and if there was one thing that Rumplestiltskin knew it was that to cast any form of magic one must be able to harness the emotions to do so, especially magic of that magnitude. He stopped, thinking on that in the quiet of the empty room, and surveyed the damage, trying to wrap his still-tired mind around what he knew.
It had been intelligent in the way that it had been adaptable to his attacks. That meant a very highly skilled sorcerer and he could name those that were still alive on one hand, including himself. It hadn't broken through his attack, it had eaten away at it. His mind's eye could still see his own magic working its way into the cloud, ready to blow it apart from the inside. He'd found crevices and had looked for the thread to pull, but it had been like it was waiting for him to put enough of himself into it to latch on and eat through his magic, disintegrating it in a way that he had never seen before. Then there was the way it had filled him up inside, ripping and shredding and clawing. It had felt like someone had tilted acid down his throat and forced him to swallow. He could still feel the effects of it in his chest and his head ached terribly from it. All in all, it was like nothing he had never seen before, and while that would usually excite him, he'd have much rathered it to come in a different manner.
"Find anything useful?"
Rumple turned, finding Emma Swan in clothes that she must have brought with her from Storybrooke. She didn't look like she felt much better than she had the night before and she'd pilfered a cup from the kitchens with a drink that was close enough to coffee for her to call it that and accept it.
"Not sure yet," he answered at length, dark eyes looking up and down what was left of the door. He picked his way through the glass and stepped out onto the ledge and found no damage there. It had only taken down what it needed to to reach in to them, but why?
"Does a migraine always accompany you leaching magic?" Emma called out to him and he thought it sounded like she was trying to lighten the mood, but it was difficult to tell.
"I didn't leach magic," he huffed, moving back in. "You simply provided the boost needed. And no, that is not a typical side effect. To be a bit tired from it would be normal from what you did."
"So it was that cloud?"
"It's looking that way. Bae wasn't ill last night?"
"No."
"Neither was Belle." His eyes met hers and he saw the look that said she hadn't had enough caffeine yet. "They do not use magic."
"So it was magic that attacks magic?"
Rumple squeezed his eyes shut and his free hand went to the bridge of his nose to try to work away some of the pressure there. "Whatever this was… I've never seen it before."
She made a sound of acknowledgement as he stooped down, taking hold of a piece of glass. As his fingers touched it, the glass fogged over in the same dark purple-grey that the cloud had been, swirling as if it were trying to escape where it had been left and he could feel more power radiating off of it than should have been. His skin burned where he held it and he dropped it, a hiss of pain escaping him and he swayed.
"What the hell was that?"
"The part that didn't escape. No, don't touch that," he snapped at her as she was leaning to inspect a different piece.
"This'll fade, won't it? You were able to push it away before it had any lasting damage?"
"I believe so," the Dark One murmured, though he could hear the hesitation in his own voice and he didn't like it one bit.
"Well, if you're done poking around, I think Neal was planning to be up for breakfast… sooner or later. Guess a decade between doesn't change a guy into a morning person, huh?"
"Nor do centuries," Rumplestiltskin answered with a wan smile.
Bae had managed to wander his way in to the room where Maurice had assured them that breakfast would be waiting that morning sometime after his father and Emma had already sat down and sounded to be discussing the events of the night before. Well, Rumplestiltskin was bouncing ideas and theories around as Emma stared at him, trying not to look too ignorant on a subject she'd never studied. She was clever and quick to learn, there was no denying that, but Bae was pretty sure his papa had her beat in this field.
She turned hazel eyes in him as he entered and lifted the cup she was holding. "They have coffee in this kingdom, Neal," she announced as if that alone might solve their problems.
He took the offered cup and inhaled, the scent old but familiar. They'd brewed something similar in the Frontlands. It had been weaker, of course, but it had covered up the taste if dirty water. "It's a little different from coffee," he said at last after a long gulp of the hot drink. "It's-"
Emma shot him a glare. "It has caffeine in it. Nothing else matters," she cut him off and Bae held his hands up in a nonthreatening gesture and moved to sit so his father was between them.
Rumplestiltskin chuckled. "In any other case you know I'd lay my life down to protect you, son, but you're on your own with her."
"Thanks a lot, Pop," Bae groused and received a smile he could never believe was innocent for all his efforts. He took another long swallow of the almost-coffee and glanced around. "Belle's never been a late sleeper, has she?"
"She's in speaking with her father and his advisors," Rumple answered with a frown.
"So what happened between the two of you, anyway? You and Maurice."
"What makes you say something happened?" his father asked.
"Because I'm not blind. Or deaf. Or stupid."
Rumplestiltskin shrugged. "He never took well to my price to save their little town. It was Belle's choice, but he was convinced I kept her against her will."
"The fact that you nearly beat him to death probably didn't help all that," Emma popped off as she shoved a pastry in her mouth and Bae shot his father a look.
"Really, Papa?"
Rumple snorted. "I didn't break anything he needed, and in my defense I was under the impression he'd had Belle killed."
"I'd like to point out that this was before the curse broke. Moe had no clue what he was being beaten for."
"He broke into my house and ransacked it. I think he had a pretty good idea, it just wasn't the whole idea."
Bae took another sip of his drink as his father and love continued back and forth about it, Emma never falling behind in the verbal sparring. He probably would never hear the story in full, but it sounded like something that they would have both been caught up in. It was probably best logged back in things he didn't really want to know further details on. The number of half-stories he'd heard since his father had come back that were put into that nice little place in his mind had grown.
They never found out who would have won as the door pushed open and Belle entered silently, looking worn before the day had truly gotten under way. She took a seat directly across from Rumple and reached sluggishly for the food.
"That bad, huh?" Bae asked.
"We finally shuffled everyone out late last night and I woke up when Rumple did to start to handle the questions this morning." She turned tired blue eyes towards her love. "Anything yet?"
"It seems to only react to those of us that use magic."
"Well that will put them at ease, at least, if not us. How are you feeling?"
"Oh, well enough," he answered her lightly.
"You don't look like it," Belle murmured.
Bae watched from his spot as the young woman across the table perked, suddenly entirely alert and focused on his father. Her eyes were sharper than they had been when she entered and her shoulders back. Her expression was even enough, but there was a silent conversation between them that he couldn't have hoped to understand. Belle was quite adept at conversations without words, but it seemed she used an entirely different sort of language depending on just who she was communicating with. He shifted his gaze to Rumplestiltskin who looked almost ready to be scolded. There was a tenseness there, waiting. The non-verbal argument continued and Emma looked ready to jump up and find any excuse to leave the room. Baelfire marveled at the shift, though, obvious to anyone who was watching, and Rumple's shoulders sagged. All at once, like the facade was simply washed away, the glamour that Bae hadn't known was there fading and revealed the dark circles under brown eyes. He looked exhausted, like any sleep he'd actually received the night before had done him little to no good and he was pale. With the glamour done away with, Bae could even see the slight tremors that ran through him where he sat, his hand trembling even as he reached across the table to grab something to eat, though it was likely just an excuse to break eye contact with Belle. When he refused to look back at her she stood, circling the table and he didn't move an inch as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind, embracing him and pressing a kiss against the top of his head.
"Thank you," she whispered and he leaned back into her.
It was strange, watching the exchange. Bae wasn't sure he'd ever be entirely used to it, no matter how much he approved. If he thought back hard, he could dredge up a few memories of when Milah had been around them, the only other woman he'd ever seen his father with. She had always been biting, ready to announce any failure on Rumplestiltskin's side and any victory on her own. Belle was never like that. Oh, he'd heard them tease each other often enough when they both knew an argument was silly, but when it was serious she never belittled him. She didn't pull punches, either, that much Bae had found out for himself in the near year his father had been gone and he'd formed a friendship with the fiery librarian, but she never set out to cause him harm in any way. Where Milah had torn him down at every turn, Belle built him up.
A sharp knock at the door announced a servant that almost immediately entered. He bowed stiffly and turned his gaze on Emma. "Your highness, a letter has come to you this morning."
The blonde took it, muttering her thanks as she tore open a seal that she thought was her own family's and her eyes skimmed the page. As she read her lips twitched downward and finally she looked at Bae. "We have to go."
"We just got here. You and Papa could use some rest after yesterday and-"
Emma waved the paper at him and he took hold of it. "That same cloud went through their castle. Henry's sick."
"Henry?" Baelfire echoed as he skimmed the rest of the note. "Regina I get, but why Henry? Since when has he-"
"Your boy does have raw talent," Rumplestiltskin murmured, his voice rougher than it had been earlier. Apparently the glamour altered more than just physical appearance.
"Henry can do magic?" Bae managed.
"Don't sound so surprised, son. Emma could do so much more if she put even half her mind to it."
"Yeah, but how do you know what Henry can do?" Emma demanded.
"You don't have to sound so accusing, dear," the sorcerer said as he stood slowly, reaching for his cane with slow movements. "He wanted to learn while we were in Storybrooke, so I taught him a few tricks. Nothing dark and terrible, I assure you."
Emma ripped the note from Bae's hands and waved it in his father's face. "And by doing so you put my son in danger."
"Okay, this is getting us nowhere," Baelfire cut in. "Pop, can you get us home?"
"Yes."
"Good. We'll deal with the you-teaching-Henry-magic thing later. Right now, let's go make sure he's okay."
Less than an hour later everything was packed and they were standing in the great hall, Belle saying goodbye to her father and promising to send any information that Rumplestiltskin uncovered his way if it would affect the town. He'd taken pieces of the broken glass with him, carefully wrapped up and tucked away and now he stood, waiting on them. He was leaning heavily on his cane when Bae approached him and his son didn't miss how he startled at the sound of his voice. "Hey, you sure you'll be good to get us back to the castle?"
Rumple gave a stiff nod. "Yes."
"Then we're ready."
He gave another nod and without a word there was the distinct pull of magic whisking them from one spot to another. Bae couldn't say he was used to it, but he handled it much better than he had as a child. Then it had been so sudden, his father never wanting him to know what he was about to do, and it had always felt as if he'd left part of himself where they'd been before. Knowing helped. At least it did most of the time. They all swayed a bit as they appeared in Snow White's castle, but only Rumplestiltskin pitched entirely forward to the stones.
TBC