Chapter Six: Welcome to Storybrooke
"It's true we don't know what we've got until its gone,
but we don't know what we've been missing until it arrives."
~Unknown
The docks looked darker than they usually do, even in the dark of the early morning. The waves rushed against the wood and groaned from the force of the water. The small fishing vessels that were tied off tried to stay afloat against the rising torment of the sea. Chernabog stood guard at the end of the longest dock and watched the waves rise and twist with unknown fury. A single shadow surrounded by the harshness of nature.
He smiled at the water's tantrum and held out a hand toward the water, "You feel it coming too, don't you?"
What he had gained from Regina's magic built up in him again and he concentrated on making the portal large enough. Portals between worlds are few, rare and dangerous. Only perfected by gods and the most pure of all could harness their potential and call upon them. It was just a coincidence that he was a god of death and with some magic, could conjure just what was needed.
His jacket flapped against his body as a large wind storm flew about his body. The wind so welcomed, he let his wings reach out and stretch in the squall. He laughed loudly toward the sky and welcomed the sea spray on his face. Being in this world makes you appreciate the touch of magic when it surrounds you.
"Time to set things in motion!" he announced and pronounced words that were not possible from a human.
His arms and wings stretched out and shot an invisible force straight into the water. A path of clam water raced across the rough seas toward the horizon where it stopped and exploded with a dark blue light. As the light dissipated, all the waters stilled and everything was silent. Barely visible, a ship began to rise from where the light had met the water and come toward him. He smiled at the accomplishment and felt the witch's magic wane slightly before it began to build again. His wings folded back into place and he shifted his arms to accommodate them.
The ship finally made port in front of Chernabog and he looked at the side, waiting for the first face to show themselves. It was a grand ship of fine wood and elegant details; something that would fit into any king's armada with ease. The sails pristine and well kept, the gleaming siren polished to a shine at the front of the ship, leading the way into many battles and treasures conquered.
Then, without preamble, a body jumped from the ship side and landed beside him. He looked at the man who held a bow and smirked at the showmanship.
"You can rise, Captain," he waved a hand at the man that made his head snap up to face him, "No need to turn this into a spectacle."
"Captain Killian "Hook" Jones," he stood up slowly and put his hand over his sword as he flashed his hook dangerously, "As you requested."
"I appreciate the help," Chernabog smiled to show his sharp teeth, "Now to go over the details…"
"I thought we already had," he whistled up to his crew, "Men, tie her off. Time to get some land legs for a while."
As the pirates began to do as their captain requested, a large barrel of product fell over and onto the dock. Both Hook and Chernabog looked over and saw a couple of dock workers that were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Both of the intimidating figures stood stock still as did their discovered witnesses. Chernabog only shook his head and looked toward the captain.
Hook smirked and turned toward his ship, "It's free season on two onlookers, mates!"
A group of five of his men jumped from the ship and ran toward the two men who still didn't know what to do. They couldn't run fast enough in the end to escape with their lives.
Hook only rubbed a little at his nose as he took in a new set of smells and then turned back to his new 'employer', "As you were saying."
"Where is the witch?" Chernabog asked as looked over the ship from his position on dock. He presumed that she would be hanging from the ship's mast after Hook was done with her.
"Cora," he said in a rather non-amused tone, "Decided that she would put in a safety net should we try to trick her. By we, I meant me."
"What did she do?" he asked in an eerie calm.
"She disintegrated while we were at sea on our way towards your portal. I don't know if she is still on my boat, or if she drifted with the wind change. I don't much care as long as she doesn't get in my way."
"Hm," Chernabog thought to himself for a moment, but then shrugged it off, "She's of no use anyway. We can always deal with her on a whim should she cause any complications. I had just hoped that we could get her out of the way. No matter, we have a bigger target in mind."
"Yes, now this I have been waiting for," he smiled wider and watched his men come back, wiping fresh blood from their blades.
Chernabog looked over the crew, their unkempt clothes and the rather flashy kind wore by their captain. He shook his head and wiped his arm from one extreme to the other. In a flash, the clothes of the pirates were updated along with their captain. Work clothes for his men and a classic semi casual look for the captain made for them to fit into the new world. The Jolly Roger, the fine vessel that it was, turned into a large yacht and floated easily in the water.
"Was all that really necessary?" Hook sighed and pulled at his dark dress shirt and slacks, "More importantly, is it reversible?"
"If we want to get close enough to strike, than yes it is necessary. And yes, it is reversible. Your Jolly Roger will be returned to you once we have done our job here," he looked at Hook's left side and noticed that the magic replaced the hook with a prosthetic and he nodded, "Now, about Rumplestiltskin…"
"Finally," hook mumbled and paid attention to the larger man.
"I have found the thing that will torture him to his absolute soul before I rip it out of him," Chernabog chuckled and saw the spark of excitement burst in Hook's eyes, "Actually two of them. Oh, what a day that would be if they should come together…"
"Are you going to tell me about this tasty morsel, or just dangle it in front of me?"
"Follow and I will tell you a tale," he waved at the captain and brought him back aboard his ship that was now in a different form, "What do you know of Rumplesitltskin?"
"The old crocodile," Hook sneered and looked down at his fake hand, "A ruthless creature that is still a whole coward with no heart to speak of. The Dark One who would kill without thought or mercy a woman, whose only crime was to love another who loved her. A thing that knows nothing of true devotion, love or meaning… We're speaking of the same beast, yes?"
Chernabog sat on a long couch within the yacht and got comfortable, "What if I told you that the beast… that creature… found love."
"He…" Hook frowned and without much thought or elegant demeanor he usually held he tossed what looked like an antique vase against the wall in fury. He clenched his teeth and shook his head slowly, "He cannot take the woman that I loved and expect to live with a new love of his own without consequence! It will not be done!"
He reaches for his sword to find it gone and cursed the new clothing of the land he found himself in. He began to pace and open cabinets to find something that will substitute. He just needed something to cut him down, to stab his heart… or hers. Oh, to see his soul and withered heart break as the light leaves her eyes and he is helpless to do anything about it. He will know that pain.
"Where do you think you are going?" Chernabog asked and materialized a glass of scotch to his hand.
"We can take her now. It's the cover of night, simple enough."
"She is with him," he said in a bored tone, "I tried too early to take him over. The new magic I found was eager, and I couldn't say that I wasn't either. She was there and managed to do something to loosen my grip. She is resolute to stay with him tonight from the looks of things."
"She's with him, even with you showing his true potential to her?"
"She is stead fast and loyal, even with his faults. She fights for him… Damn whore nearly took out my eyes," he shrugged, "We have to wait until she is back in her own little home. Her library."
"He doesn't keep her with him," Hook nodded and took in the information, "He always took me as the type to keep tabs on his women… or wives. Tracking them down to taverns and what have you."
"They are, for lack of a better term, together yet separate. Something that these people call dating," Chernabog explained, "A long courtship that precedes engagement or betrothal."
"Yet you say he loves her?"
"Without fault," he smirked and took another sip of the scotch, "She is his weakness in this place."
"But he must be weak enough; we can get her without too much of a fight."
"We are not going tonight, Captain," he said in a patient tone as Hook tried to turn to walk out of the boat again.
"Why not?" he growled.
"You do not want to face the beast that is Rumplestiltskin where his lovely Belle is concerned."
"I want to do just that, actually," Hook nodded.
"Besides, I am expecting someone," he said simply and looked out the window towards the dock. He got up and pulled on his leather jacket, "It is someone of true interest to you and Rumplestiltskin if you want to come with me."
Hook considered the offer for a moment and then curtly nodded his head, "Lead the way."
Hook ordered his men to stay with the ship and followed the man that had promised him so much. They walked through the empty streets and saw very few lights. Hook looked and wondered over electricity and the horseless carriages that he saw at the side of the roads. He narrowed his eyes at some of the buildings and wondered what their advertisements meant.
"What kind of world is this?"
"A kind where there are no happy endings or magic," Chernabog answered and bent his fingers slightly to show the fog that enwrapped them, "Unless you count recent events."
They walked the length of Main Street and sat on the benches toward the front of the town. Chernabog kept his eyes on the sidewalk that wrapped around some hedges and waited. Hook knew that he wasn't going to get more answers from the man and didn't question him. He scanned the area for other people, but assumed that it was late enough that the sleepy town had completely gone to bed.
A half hour of waiting later, a young man walked around the hedge, his hands in his pockets and a bag strapped to his back. His hair was dark, but cut to a shorter, manageable length. His eyes were dark, holding years of wisdom past his young age yet gentle. He was dressed in a button shirt and dark jeans with sturdy shoes. He stopped at the sight of the two men on the bench. He stood straight and watched their movements carefully.
"You have no reason to fear us," Chernabog said sweetly.
"Who said that I was frightened?" he asked with a tight lipped expression that Hook subconsciously remembered or at least found familiar.
"I was the one who sent you…" he waved his hand in the air and produced the postcard that was just in his pocket, "…this."
The man's shoulders slumped a little in realization, "You have magic… I should have known."
"Something that I see you still have a distaste of."
"You could say that," he nodded and then paused as he narrowed his eyes at the two men, "Did my father send you?"
"No one sends me anywhere," Chernabog shook his head, "But your father has been very anxious to see you. For a very long time now."
"This is rather cheerful at the prospect of the reunion, but I really have an imp to slay," Hook whispered harshly and stood up from the bench.
Chernabog didn't even turn to acknowledge Hook's tantrum. He kept his eyes on the man that just walked in to the conversation, "What about you? Do you miss your father… Baelfire?"
"How'd you know my real name?" he asked in confusion.
Hook's steps stalled and he stood frozen, his eyes anchored to one spot on the ground. It couldn't be. Everyone thought that the boy was dead. Gone just like his beautiful Milah. He turned back around to see that the man had stepped closer to Chernabog as if seeking answers.
"How do you know my name? Was it through the magic? Do you know where my father is?" he asked again with a little more force. His nose crinkled slightly as he pushed for answers, just like hers used to during their arguments. No wonder his mouth looked familiar, she used to wear the same expression when wary or confused. This was the son that Milah had left behind to live with him. The one she missed and cried for in the night. The one she regretted she lost every waking moment.
"You knew," Hook growled and looked at the man on the bench, "You knew and you never brought him to me."
"Wasn't in the cards until now," Chernabog waved his hand in dismissal and turned his attention back to Baelfire who looked thoroughly confused, "Answer the question… do you miss your father?"
"My father is dead," Baelfire said without emotion, "Has been for a very long time."
"And your mother?" Hook asked quickly.
"Her longer than that," he looked at the other man up and down as if sizing up an opponent.
"Believe me when I say that I will never harm you," Hook put up his useable hand toward the man, "I knew your mother."
"Before she left father and I?" Baelfire said with a twinge of hate laced in his words, "Or after?"
"You don't believe that she had died that day she didn't come home?"
"I may have been young, but I found out later that she left on her own will," Baelfire looked away and repeated his question, "So, before or after?"
"Tenacious," Hook smiled, "You are definitely her son."
"I am thinking after then," Baelfire walked up to Hook and looked him in the eyes and set his jaw, "Are you the one she left us for?"
"She left for more reasons than just me," Hook whispered and expected the man in front of him to punch or swear to kill him, but he stood quiet, "She longed to be free, to see the world and experience life for her. She couldn't do that with your father."
"Or with me."
"She loved you so much and she regretted leaving you behind. Being separated from you."
"You still let her leave when she had a child and husband at home," he shook his head at Hook, "My father had done horrible things in his existence, but at least I knew he was honorable to mother."
"Honorable?!" Hook roared before Baelfire stepped away, "Your father killed her in front of me. I held her in my arms as he crushed her heart to dust. The great Dark One killed his wife, your mother and the only woman that I have ever loved. Without remorse, without regret and without a heart. How is that honorable?"
Baelfire's jaw set again and he turned from the fuming captain to the man still on the bench enjoying the show, "Why do you ask about my father? Or send me that postcard? I left that world behind long ago and wonder how you stepped from it."
"Many were cast out of it twenty-eight years ago," Chernabog explained and tilted his head to the side, "Under a curse that your father made, but casted by a darker soul. He was sent here with the rest of them, in limbo for that twenty-eight years, never aging, never even conscious that they are even living. The same day, every day, until recently. When the curse was…"
"…broken," Baelfire nodded, "If it is broken, why do you need my father?"
"Your father and I have unfinished business."
"A deal, I am guessing?" Baelfire sighed.
"Something of that sort," Chernabog nodded.
"I want nothing to do with it," Baelfire shook his head and shifted his pack before he turned to go back the way he came.
"You know, he could be human fully again," Chernabog called to his back.
Baelfire stopped and looked over his shoulder, "I have been told this before."
"Ah, but you should never trust fairies with this type of thing," he waved his hand again, "He has been living as a man for the length of the curse. True, magic has been brought back to this land, but there is a chance that we can take his from him. Then he would be a regular man. Isn't that what you wanted?"
"All traces of the Dark One gone? Forever?" Baelfire asked with narrowed eyes.
"Forever."
Hook watched the exchange intrigued. The boy, now man, was still looking for his father. Without a single shred of a thought to his mother. Still looking for the man that killed his mother in cold blood, never paying mind to her pleas. He was choosing the monster over the beautiful angel that gave him life. Even so, he still couldn't bring himself to hate something that was part of her. Her blood and her legacy ran through him.
"Why don't I believe you?" Baelfire took a step back with a shake of his head, "You want the dagger, don't you?"
"There are other ways to break a curse other than a dagger," Chernabog held out his hand and flashed his straight, perfect teeth, "Wanna give it a go?"
"I think I would want an educated decision over a hasty one any day," he turned from the offered hand and began to walk off once more.
Hook began to follow him, but Chernabog put a hand against his chest to keep him back.
"We will lose sight of him," Hook said in an urgent voice, "What if Rumplestiltskin discovers him?"
"I am counting on it," Chernabog looked down at Hook, "Let the boy find his father. Discover what kind of man he really is… and he will be back. Rumplestiltskin can't avoid the dark forever, and his son will find that out."
"The boy is leaving," Hook pointed after him, "If we let him leave…"
"No, there is a bed and bath up that road," Chernabog took a deep breath, "Come, Hook. We have a plan to go over. Not to mention all the ways to inflict pain. My favorite past time."
Hook looked after the pathway that Baelfire took. He then looked up at the sky and slowly closed his eyes, 'He's here, Milah. Your son is strong, healthy and smart enough not to trust me. I won't let him fall prey to his father. I promise you.'
