A/N: I had a bad feeling I'd butcher a timely update on this, making that cliffhanger much more evil than I'd intended. Thanks for your patience as I've been off racking up a new tier of frequent flier miles. Enjoy! :)
11251. You have to ask yourself a simple question. How far are you willing to go?
"Rumplestiltskin."
His name drifted delicately across the eternal black: a broken, haunting whisper that seemed almost without source or substance.
"Belle?" he murmured while jerking his head round, eyes straining, but unable to pierce the night. Still, he'd know her precious voice anywhere, the soft lilting cadence of word and tone washing over him in a way he couldn't ever forget. He was ugly and dark to her beautiful light yet she'd irrevocably bound herself to his heart by the truest of loves. He called once more, slightly louder: "My darling. Belle?"
His claws curled around chipped porcelain and he knew in his heart what it was. He stepped forward a pace: tentative at first then quickly giving way to worry and a flat out run. There was a rhythmic slap of water against the hull of an unseen boat along with familiar hiccupping sobs and he knew if he could only see, that her pale cheeks would be swept with tears.
She was lost. Just as lost as he was.
He staggered a little, nearly losing his balance. If only he could find her… Hurtling blind through the pitch dark, Rumplestiltskin desperately tried to let his ears be his guide; to follow the sounds, but they seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. He spun left, then right.
Confusion melded with impenetrable blackness and his breath hitched in his chest.
"I love you." Though snuffled and faint, the emotion carried within her declaration remained pure and true, slicing straight through his heart with the precision of a master sculptor.
You just don't think I can love you. Now you've made your choice. And you're going to regret it. Forever.
He hadn't trusted her words before; had carelessly tossed her love aside as if she didn't matter… As if she wasn't tremendously special.
All you'll have is an empty heart. And a chipped cup.
But he did believe now. Oh how he believed. With heart-destroying vengeance the blinders had been ripped away: he'd finally read the depth of truth inscribed in every remembered look and gentle touch she'd ever given him. And each moment he couldn't find her stabbed anew with unrelenting loss and unending guilt.
It couldn't be too late.
"Sweetheart?" Curling panic set in and he finally yelled: "Where are you?" His shout faded into smothering shadow.
The roaring slosh of water mixed with an echoing scream: he fought off a cruel vision of scourges and flame, of hooded men and a tall darkened tower dripping with evil. It hurried his steps as he twisted and turned in the inescapable black.
Not this time. If he could just get there in time…
Death stalked the light, creeping nearer within the darkness.
"Belle!"
A wavering image of his beloved lying broken and bloody at the base of the tower gripped his soul, sightless blue eyes and delicate fingertips outstretched to him at the end. He threw himself forward, rushing blindly toward he knew not what. Feet sloshed through wet surf and the fleeting burst of distant starlight illuminated a vast empty ocean before the seething darkness enveloped it once more.
There was no one there.
Rumplestiltskin screamed in agony, tumbling, tumbling, tumbling forward, expecting the rough, wet impact of churning sand beneath extended palms. "BELLE!" There was a painful thud of skull cracking against flagstone and reality stole away the dream.
His tower laboratory. He curled to his side on the cold, dank floor; the overturned stool at the work bench lay next to him. He blinked; shivered uncontrollably. With knees tucked to his chest, he rocked back and forth, anguished and alone as the tears streaked unchecked down his scaly cheeks.
Eventually Rumplestiltskin staggered to his feet. Their precious cup sat on the cluttered tabletop and he grabbed it close before pivoting away: a feral animal trapped in a cage of his own making, pacing back and forth in the open space between table and rounded wall.
Icy sweat dripped from his brow and he palmed it away. Agitation had him rhythmically clenching and unclenching his free fist, his breathing coming in erratic gasps. The empty gaping hole in his heart pleaded to be filled, but there was nothing; no one left to fill it. Then his shoulders sagged and he leaned his forehead against the leaded windowpane, a desolate picture of defeat and loss.
"Belle. My Belle." He'd never breathed the words aloud before: "I love you too." Rumplestiltskin cradled the damaged cup next to his broken heart. His other hand trembled as he slowly raised it to press against the glass, eyes desperately searching the darkened road to his castle though he knew it was hopeless.
She wasn't coming back. She was gone. His Belle was gone forever and all that remained were the haunting nightmares that visited each time he collapsed in restless sleep.
It could have been hours later: his cheeks were still damp with tears and he absently scrubbed them away while the first painted scraps of indigo transformed the shadow of night into a new dawn.
Rumplestiltskin turned his back on the empty road. Instead, he stared down at their cup clutched his palms, eyes bleak and lost.
There was a vivid memory of a broken chip and a tender kiss and the spellbinding rush of someone who loved him deeply. Only… he'd made the wrong choice. And the torture of that truth lashed his soul with profound regret.
If only… His eyes momentarily drifted shut. No. There was no point in wishing for that which was now impossible.
He slowly walked over to carefully place their teacup back on the work bench before continuing on to a ceiling-high set of shelves. Among the haphazard clutter of vials and stacks of books was a roughly carved wooden chest. At first glance it was nothing much to look at and perhaps that was the point: his most cherished possession hidden in plain sight. He gently lifted the lid and removed a threadbare shawl, raising it to his nose to smell. The enchantment still held and he breathed in the lingering scent of his young son: lamb's wool and fallen leaves overprinted with the sting of wood smoke.
Belle was gone. Yet Bae remained.
A tremulous smile was tinged with heartache and loss instead of joy. His boy was still out there somewhere in a land without magic. And Rumplestiltskin would do whatever it took to cross worlds to find him… and beg forgiveness.
There was further regret along with the tacit acknowledgement that Bae had been right all along. He realized that now; lived the gnawing guilt each and every day. His palm fluttered over the coarse material; traced a small tear along the hem where his son had caught it long ago on a bramble.
Rumplestiltskin returned to the table and placed the folded lump of fabric next to the cup. Gnarled, leathery hands braced against the edge of the table on either side of his pair of talismans: all that remained of the two people that meant everything to him.
His own eyes closed while he focused on the exact shade of Belle's; on the ringing sound of Bae's laughter.
Great power requires great sacrifice.
Her kiss had sliced clean through the yawning darkness and he'd felt his curse slip. Was that what he truly wanted? For the first time there was the faintest whisper of 'yes' secreted deep within. Yet he hadn't trusted her love and now he'd twice lost everything to cowardice: to the dark corrupting chasm of evil. Twice now, he'd made the same wrong choice. And both plagued his mind with equal intensity.
My power means more to me than you.
His head bowed low and his breath shuddered as he recalled how he'd sneered at her love. The power didn't mean more than Belle; couldn't ever be that. Even so… He'd selected it nevertheless and… he needed it to find his son. And what then? Despite the desire not to play what if games, Rumplestiltskin found he couldn't help it. He could have called her back instead of sending her away to her doom. They could have been a family. But he hadn't been remotely brave enough to take the chance: to reach out for Belle's hand and step off the cliff together into the unknown. And now it no longer mattered. It was too late and fate had taken her away. There was the wrenching recognition that the price of finding Bae was now smeared with the blood of the only woman capable of truly loving the monster.
One, but not both. Cowardice over love. Sacrifice for power.
Destiny was infinitely cruel and his crumbling heart wailed against it, yet there was a hardening resolve as well. He would find his son. The seer had foreseen it. And that terrible cost would not be in vain. He would fix at least one mistake.
Somewhere deep in the castle a clock chimed. Then a candle guttered and snuffed itself out throwing the tower room into shifting shadows that lurked and hovered among the hidden dark places. He cocked his head.
Magic was emotion; he could feel the slow incremental build of it intensify and amplify in the inmost reaches of his soul. It swirled and hummed, having been refined repeatedly through the fire of agonizing love and loss into a steely force of unimaginable potency. His heart thudded against his ribs.
Rumplestiltskin hadn't been capable before, but in that instant he could sense the stark difference slipping headily through his veins; suddenly craved the newfound power like an addict needing his next fix… and dove heedlessly toward the bottomless dark. His fingers flexed and released against the table. He stared, fixated on the chipped cup and worn shawl visible in the faint peach gloaming streaking across the sky through windows facing east.
This was his fate: this singular defining moment.
Bae.
Belle.
Both cup and shawl were broken in their own way, as were the two broken and shattered relationships they represented. Only one held the potential to be healed.
A wicked smile graced his mouth. At long last… after centuries of careful research and colossal effort he was strong enough now: finally strong enough to cast the curse to end all curses. He would find his son. Nothing could stop him now.
He could see it unfold in his mind and it was glorious. Greedily, he zeroed in on the deepest magic of all, the monster within drawing on an infinite well of power as darkness and evil knit together the horrifying scourge that would rip them all from their land. The feral look returned to blackened eyes; twisted his expression into one of utter malevolence. His lips mouthed words that would bring about unspeakable suffering and torment: a prison of time and the Queen's revenge.
Shaking palms slowly twisted so they faced upward while the violent torrent of magic sluiced through his body like a blazing inferno in a tinder dry wood. Dark purple smoke churned and poured to the floor where it spun into an enveloping typhoon. And the beast screamed.
A blinding shot of white light nearly yanked him to his knees and he staggered under the terrible onslaught. Then it was gone, vanishing into the ether inside a fraction of a heartbeat and he gasped, tightly clutching a small decorated scroll of parchment in his clawed hands.
The Dark Curse.
It was finished.
Rumplestiltskin carefully unrolled it to view what he'd wrought and the pulse of satisfaction was worth all the heartache and long lonely nights.
A vial of swirling purple and the strongest potion ever created: he strode across the laboratory to collect its precious contents from a special shelf. He was so close: each piece falling into place with measured care.
As the sun broke the horizon, bathing him in a warm golden glow, he placed a single drop onto the parchment; watched it fizz and fade. The saviour would come. A child born of true love would break this dark curse. And after centuries of patience, he'd finally be free to piece his family back together.
85. Do the brave thing and bravery would follow.
Nothing.
There was nothing: nothing but the stomach lurching sensation of falling through inky black so thick she could feel the flaying burn of acceleration.
She thought she might have heard her name once more but it was hopelessly muffled. Then all was deathly silent but for the shrieking inside her head and there was nothing, nothing, nothing but suffocating darkness crushing her toward extinction until only the deepest and final fragment of her spirit remained.
She couldn't breathe; desperately gasped for oxygen, but there was absolutely none to be had.
Perception displaced vision and she felt her hand rotting with a plague that rapidly rushed up her arm toward her heart. Skin, muscle, tendon: all peeling away into vanishing dust, leaving only desiccating bone to tightly grip the hilt of... Rumplestiltskin's dagger. The mystical dagger of power. The dagger of the man she loved.
Rumplestiltskin.
Grasping fingers tightened fractionally around the ebony hilt.
The dark. Pure evil churned about her in the terrifying dark.
But that wasn't right.
She liked the dark.
Her lips curled up into a sultry smile and the banshee roar at the discovery of an obstruction nearly deafened her. Suddenly jerked sideways, she thrashed end over end until her aching body could have been shattering into thousands of tiny shards as if she'd been tossed clean through a mirror to lie broken and scattered on the other side.
This.
And no further.
Embracing the magic, she forced the consuming darkness to submit, bending the dreadful power to her will and hers alone.
Eons of cruelty flooded her mind with images of filth and bloodshed and she saw her own end; battled to ignore the deceptive rip and crush of her glowing heart by the hand of her beloved. The dagger positively howled with torture and death.
And magic.
It was glorious, addicting lust and she craved more. So much more. She understood his hunger now; his need.
Time unrolled oddly in that place of infinite black and the battle for supremacy could have lasted seconds or years. There was no past, present or future. There was only survival.
The tiniest flickering ember of light sparked to life within the black and the evil pounced, but she fought back against the onslaught, shielding the precious glow.
Light with a thread of darkness woven throughout. Yes. That's what she was now.
And this power was hers!
An explosion rocketed her backward, throwing the area into erupting starlight and skittering shadow and suddenly she could see. Only instead of a forest and a wishing well at dusk she was unexpectedly aware of her cheek pressed against polished teak and she gulped down a breath of clean salty air, chest heaving and heart pounding.
Fingers drifted briefly along the curved plank in front of her nose before she comprehended the dangerous pitch and swell beneath her.
A boat. She lurched downward, riding the wave and her heaving stomach tore after it. Gods, she hated boats. There was a jarring smack of water against wood and the heavy pounding of feet splashing through surf. "BELLE!"
Someone was shouting her name and it seemed all too familiar.
I love you.
It echoed from within.
She raised her head a fraction as the tiny rowboat was violently cast ashore and it splintered into pieces leaving her dazed and winded and thrown from the wreckage.
Her fingers were still tightly clenched around the dagger's hilt. "Gold?" He was flinging himself toward her with blinding panic shining from demented eyes. There was something distinctly different about him, but she couldn't quite place what.
Boggled uncertainty had him tentatively testing: "Lacey?"
Still, he skidded on his knees through soggy sand and his flailing hands passed straight through her shoulder blade. She was shivering from head to foot. "Y-y-yes. No... B-both?" She paused to think, to remember. She screwed her eyes shut. "Yeah. I, I… I'm… both." She remembered she'd loved him twice; loved both the light and the dark. And so had he. She'd kissed him and she'd become one.
The sucking water churned about her, but when she staggered to her feet she was perfectly dry.
They stood on a darkened curve of beach next to a vast, empty ocean and… Belle instinctively knew it from before. Her shattering heart sunk to her toes; remembered it as nothing but the trappings of a horrible nightmare of unending water before tumbling awake to thick chains and a lonely prison cell at the Queen's palace. And marks. The dream meant another mark scratched on the wall.
She was wearing her pretty golden ball gown from the day they'd met while he stood before her clad in leather and a ruffed silk shirt; physically whole and yet… every inch the broken beast she'd first fallen in love with.
"It's just a dream." There was a lifetime of deep heart-breaking resignation in her tone. She didn't know what it meant, but it wasn't real. This wasn't real.
For a moment he looked perplexed then shook his head as if to clear it. "Yes. But it's also so much more." He was cradling their little mended cup in his palm and Belle stared for a beat.
"Rumple." With a soft cry she launched herself toward him, arms raised. There was a soft shimmer and she passed straight through instead of ending up crushed in his embrace. Pivoting, she tried again. Same thing. They couldn't touch and her heart screamed.
"Sweetheart." The agony in his voice told her it was just as much a torture for him.
Her lip wobbled and there was a prick of tears. She willed them not to fall as he carefully placed the cup next to her feet in the sand. "I never made it to shore before. Just drifting on the swells. Floating forever in the dark." Though she'd vowed to never stop fighting for him, there'd still been the deep soul crushing loneliness of a true love who hadn't wanted her.
His voice tensed; the hesitation was palpable as he looked to make sense of her words. "And I couldn't ever find you, no matter how hard I searched. Always out of reach. I ran and ran and you were just… gone."
This isn't your first time here. The unspoken truth tolled between them like the solemn ring of a church bell.
The implications were mind-blowing and later she'd let herself dwell on them. Now, however, they stared for what felt like an eternity, lost in the other's eyes. They didn't need words when a simple look could convey so true a love.
"When I said I'd see you again, this wasn't exactly what I meant." Her laughter was watery at best and a single tear slipped free.
"My beautiful Belle," he murmured longingly. Rumple stepped closer so there was only an inch or so of charged air between them; slowly raised his fingers to hover as near as possible to her glistening cheek.
They could have stayed that way forever yet he inclined his head toward the dagger hanging limp and forgotten against her thigh. He at least, recalled why they were there even if she was having a hard time of it. "You called, my mistress?" She recognized a wholly manufactured grin as Rumplestiltskin placed a teasing impish edge to the words. "Although I would be grateful if you allowed me the discretion to do as I wish with my magic."
A thought bubbled to the surface. Escalating power hummed through her veins and she quirked an eyebrow. There was something deliciously wicked about having the Dark One in her thrall. Her voice dropped a notch and she eyed him speculatively; chewed her lower lip. "Or what?" A finger drifted downward, a fraction above the ties lacing together his leather vest then paused at his abdomen. "This way you have to do as I say. I could make you beg… for all sorts of things."
"Lacey!" He jerked forward in shock then yanked his hand from where it had accidentally plunged through her cheek. His expression was a mixture of horror and desire. Mostly horror.
She chuckled at that and her expression softened. "Relax. Granted."
Relief flooded his slight frame, completely eradicating the sharp grip of tension from his shoulders. Rumple's shaky smile warmed her and they inched nearer, the bond of trust between them deepening and strengthening under the glowing starlight. It was followed by whispered words of love and desire that sent the darkness scattering aside. Belle reached up with the renewed yearning to stroke his jaw; couldn't.
"What happened, sweetheart? I was shouting for you."
"It tried to kill me." She brandished the blade. "I… Lacey, she…" Uncertain how to explain, she glanced away then back, and finally started again. "When I called for you it was l-like… like the evil was trying to annihilate me. It was pure darkness; so… so powerful. A-and… It did." Belle shivered. "Mostly. But the part of me that's Lacey, the darkness couldn't destroy that."
Any words he might have spoken turned to an unintelligible garble that caught in his throat; terror sheened his eyes. Forgetting they couldn't touch, his swiping arms crossed through her waist as he lunged forward to grab her close. "Nothing like that happened when I took the power from Zoso!"
She shrugged, not knowing what else to say and they shared a desperate, needy look.
"I could have killed you. It was my fault."
The aching guilt in his whisper broke her heart. "Shh." Her fingers hovered over his lips. "Shh. It's okay."
Rumple shook his head as if to say it wasn't, couldn't, ever be okay.
His hands floated near her hips. For a long moment he wouldn't look her in the eye, then: "It's time. You have to be brave."
At first she didn't understand what he was talking about then Belle glanced down; found the little parchment scroll he'd given her on the docks clasped tight in her fist.
Belle nodded once sharply in comprehension, but couldn't halt the tremble that shook her entire body. "Rumple." She breathed his name and he shuddered; stared at her with hungry longing.
There was no way she could halt the silent track of tears now, knowing that once she cast the spell, she'd be trapped forever behind an untraceable barrier… and that when it was done he would be off to sacrifice himself for the life of his grandson.
"I love you."
He nodded a little. "Yes. And I love you."
It was both a declaration and a benediction and it rang with a haunting finality that shattered her heart into fine glassy shards inside her chest.
She briefly closed her eyes, drawing strength from their love. She had to do this. She would do this. It was the brave thing to do even though the terror felt far stronger in that instant. Her breath hitched.
Then Belle slowly raised the dagger above her head and began to read aloud. It was as if she were both there on the beach with Rumple yet also standing before the wishing well all at once and his magic pooled within her, building in strength until her spirit soared with the intoxicating accumulation of power.
The final words died away on a gentle breeze and smouldering blue eyes raised to lock fiercely with his, imprinting the moment on her spirit forever.
She mouthed her love and his jaw twitched under the heavy weight of emotion. There was a slight pause in which his hand rose once more to cup near her cheek. It didn't last nearly long enough before the brutal body slam of darkness hurtled straight through her soul in a seething torrent of mingled gold and blue that left her gasping.
85. So whatever has kept random people from stumbling into Storybrooke for the last twenty-eight years… It's gone.
There was a commotion behind her. That was all she seemed certain of for a long hazy moment. Tentative hands pressed into soft loam; she stretched a stiff ankle. Dazed, she lay there an instant longer then slowly raised her head, gave it a quick shake.
She was lying in a faint patch of filtered light at the base of a sturdy oak and she glanced up at the full moon, partially visible through the forest canopy and it appeared…
Familiar.
Pounding feet hurtled toward her from behind and she rolled to her knees with a feral grin and flaring nostrils. Long slender fingers extended then clenched while her eyes blazed with yellow fire. There was a shout of a name, but it wasn't who she needed to be right now.
The commando she'd been fighting darted close as her Granny ploughed out of the forest, eyes flat and cold. Her crossbow arced confidently in her grip while she gracefully tracked her running prey; sighted expertly down the laser scope.
Intrinsic power howled through Ruby's veins and she remembered. She remembered she'd crossed the line yet…
"I am the wolf."
The whizzing bolt found its target with deadly accuracy, the man landing in a skidding slump before her.
With a mighty growl Ruby drew on the might of the moon and the transformation took hold once more. The wind ruffled through her fur and she lunged toward a new wave of attackers with vicious intent.
Still, the invaders pushed forward and their defence struggled until Reul Ghorm realized that while they seemed to have some form of protection against spells, indirect magic could work wonders.
Her wand arm slashed a broad arc in front of her and a closely spaced wall of trees sprung from the ground, corralling a pair of commandos.
"You did put a lid on it, right? Otherwise they'll just climb out."
"Seriously?" The blue fairy flung Leroy a baleful look, but she waved her wand again anyway. A muffled thud and a curse emanated from the box and he shrugged.
Another commando appeared to his left, but Granny ducked and pivoted, clocking him in the chin with the butt of her crossbow and they all goggled in shock when the man dropped unconscious to the leaf-strewn ground like a sack of potatoes.
"Uh… Wow. Nice shot, sister."
She merely harrumphed. "I was taking down ogres long before you hatched from your egg, Grumpy."
He didn't have time to comment as Dopey tugged urgently on his sleeve and pointed. A pair of F-22 fighters flying in fighting wing formation hurtled up and over a rocky ridge then straight down the valley, their sonic boom trailing across the town like a portent of death. There was a hiss and whoosh of incoming ordnance and Storybrooke exploded into an inferno of chaos and crumbling rubble.
Leroy stared, immobilized with horror.
A fireball rocketed into the sky, followed quickly by a second, painting the night with an angry orange glow. Afterward they banked north in tandem over the bay, clearly preparing to circle back for another run.
"Oh. Fuck." Their home... They were done for now. They were going to make the national news. And not in a good way. He thought vaguely about shouting something about American pride and not bombing your own then thought better of it. Was there even a box on the illegal immigrant form for 'Enchanted Forest'?
Then he prayed to the gods that it no longer mattered.
A twisting column of intertwining blue and gold light soared straight up into the air from somewhere out in the forest on the opposite side of the valley, reaching an apex high in the clouds. The glow of a shimmering dome rapidly began its arcing decent over the town just as those damn jets returned for another pass.
"Belle." Her name was a grateful murmur under his breath then he shouted: "Ruby! Inside. Now!"
A distant growl of affirmation was all he got.
Leroy tossed a hunted look behind him and thought he saw open bomb bay doors as he shouldered the heavy lunk Granny had taken down back across the town line. He vaguely saw Reul Ghorm do similar to those she'd captured. The magical barrier plunged toward the earth like dripping water across a rain-pelted window and a pair of bombs was obliterated before they could reach the ground.
Ruby hurdled across a fallen tree, chased by yet another black clad commando as she made a beeline home. It was nearly in place. She accelerated faster. There was a tackling leap and the dodge of gunfire as the wolf skidded sideways underneath with a whisker to spare; her pursuer, not as lucky. Ruby lay panting next to her grandmother's feet and the older woman knelt to place a comforting palm on the back of her neck.
At first they weren't sure the spell had worked as the man seemingly slammed straight through the glimmering barricade after their friend. Then it became clear with his wild spin and haphazard looks that he couldn't see them any longer. There was a soft puff of wind and it was as if they were viewing him from behind a gauzy veil of scattering light.
Leroy walked up and waved a hand in front of the soldier's face. Nothing. A punch to the man's gut passed straight through, effectively yielding the same result.
Cloaked.
They breathed a collective sigh of relief. They were safe.
11242. I have a deal to discuss. A certain… mermaid.
Rumplestiltskin picked his way through a dense forest of towering pine. Thick fog blanketed the area in gloom while droplets of moisture clung to branches and needles; collected in fern filled hollows on the ground. Fully obsessed with his task, he failed to feel the damp chill that gripped the land in a cloak of dreary lead and faded bronze. Instead he strode with an unerring sense of direction, confident of a destined path already carved out for him. His boots squelched through the mossy underbrush.
Bae. He focused exclusively on Bae. This was all for him and he would do whatever it took.
Sorting through the medley of shifting pieces – making any sense whatsoever of the mystifying jumble of shattered images of what would one day come to pass – had taken him decades then years longer to discover the particular one he needed to bridge this gap… The day after he'd learned Belle was gone: a shimmering vision unexpectedly tumbled into his mind. It'd been crystal clear, melding seamlessly with the fateful memory of a prophecy foretold him many years before.
You will not cast the curse. Someone else will.
Impatient, he broke into an easy trot. The Dark Curse to end all curses was shaped: lay snug in a hidden pocket against his heart. Now there was a deal to complete.
For a brief handful of minutes the whipping wind tore the roiling clouds apart to bathe him in the harsh burn of sunlight and he found himself on a craggy headland overlooking the sea: a forlorn and forgotten place where few ventured and fewer returned. Waves crashed against the sharpened rocks far below in a churning mass of foaming grey and then the view was obliterated.
He paused.
A branch snapped behind him and a snakelike smile twisted at his mouth. "Show yourself, dearie."
He spun around, eyes pinned on the exact spot he knew his prey to be hiding. After a time, a teenaged girl stepped from behind a crumbling pillar of basalt. She approached him, nervous and wary, while leaning heavily against a rough wooden walking stick that reminded him starkly of his own. He pushed the random thought aside. His days as a cowardly spinner were long since past.
She was beautiful in spite of the coarse peasant garb hanging loose against a slender willowy frame; deep auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. The girl pointed at her throat.
Reptilian eyes narrowed. "Yes, yes, you're mute. I know. Oh, Regina!" he then called in a sing song voice. "You're laaaate!"
The Queen immediately swept across the uneven promontory, appearing from inside rapidly vanishing eddies of violet mist. "I'm never late." Head held high, she inched up the hem of her ebony skirts while arrogantly striding toward the pair in order to form a triangle.
"As you say." He smirked and gave her a grand bow that reeked of embellishment because he knew it would aggravate her further. "Well then. Lovely. We're all here!" Rumplestiltskin chirped, fingers steepling together in front of his chest.
"Funny, you weren't at all interested in dealing when I came to you months before." Regina's hard gaze bore into his, belying the dismissive flap of her hand.
The pointed referral to the vulnerability she'd witnessed was a sideswipe to the gut.
Belle.
Nothing remained of his beloved but a memory and their little chipped teacup. Raw grief and the unending crush of nightmares pounded against his heart, but he refused to let it show. The imp's mask was firmly in place this time and nothing the venomous witch could say would shift it. A withering glare was all she rated.
"Oh. Well, if you've given up on your petty revenge against the princess and her twoo wuv then I might as well go home; warm up by a cheery fire. This is a dismal hunk of rock after all." He gestured at their general vicinity then pranced away a couple paces, knowing full well Regina wasn't truly serious. They'd play their little game and he'd win because he always won.
Their companion didn't know that however and her worried stare ping ponged between the two. She anxiously hopped from one foot to the other even though it seemed to make her grimace in excruciating pain.
"Fine," Regina acquiesced and he immediately halted his retreat; shot her a roguish grin.
"A deal can always be struck if someone has something the other wants dearly enough." He flamboyantly waved a clawed hand then spared a fleeting glance at the girl. Sheer desperation seeped from every pore in her body and he knew this would be easy. "Do you have it?" The question was directed at the queen.
Regina snapped her fingers and a brown leather hatbox appeared at her feet. "Of course," she murmured as if it ought to have been self-evident.
She stooped to flip open the lid and the girl stared greedily when Regina pulled out a black felt top hat. Her staff thudded dully against the ground when she inched a fraction nearer, lips compressed together in a thin line that screamed of longing.
Rumplestiltskin cocked an eyebrow at the girl. "Well?" he asked leadingly. "Nothing comes for free, dearie."
As if suddenly realizing her part, she dropped heavily to a blackened rock, propping the walking stick next to her then pulled a polished obsidian box from the cloth sack slung across her shoulder. She quickly worked to open the lock as if her life depended on it or in case her companions might capriciously change their minds. Maybe both.
After extracting a small glass jar, the girl scrambled back to her feet and held it out to the imp. He nodded in agreement, masking his excitement behind bland indifference. If only Regina realized what he was doing right in front of her face. The irony was truly delicious. He pulled the small decorative scroll from his pocket, passing it blindly to the queen while his fingers closed around the coveted jar.
His mind was already focused on the next phase of his plan to bother with ceremony.
The girl quickly shut and shoved the box back inside her sack while the Evil Queen knelt to give the hat a spin. A portal opened instantaneously with a ferocious swirl of purple and the girl's lips twitched upward though her eyes widened with what looked like unease. He sensed she was too frightened to smile properly. Still, she nodded once in silent gratitude then threw herself into the spinning vortex.
With a hiss the hurricane faded and she was gone. The portal had sealed shut. Their transaction was complete and everyone had gotten what they wanted: squid ink for… The Dark Curse for… passage home.
"Use it well." He giggled and gestured at the parchment Regina held clutched in her hand.
With a maniacal grin, Rumplestiltskin tucked the small jar safely into an inside pocket of his dragon scale coat. Then, spinning on one heel, he vanished into his own swirl of purple smoke.
One step closer…
84. That's the thing about children. Before you know it, you lose them.
The view was absolutely spectacular: an unimpeded three hundred and sixty degree panorama of a precipitous sloping drop from rocky crag through undulating forest green toward a tumbling river of milky turquoise and the expanse of sea beyond. There were no trees at this altitude. Instead an alpine meadow marked treeline far below, covered in nothing larger than a handful of scrubby bushes and a thin carpet of native grasses. A muted blue shimmer roofed it all in a lofty frozen palace of contorted glacial ice. Other islands dotted the distant horizon in a curving archipelago, but none could rival the towering majesty and untamed beauty of Neverland's soaring central peak.
Still, it couldn't mask the blatant track of evil clawed deeply into the land: a corrupted outward display of natural splendour tempered powerfully by lives lived in the shadow of savage oppression. He could feel the depth and breadth of it permeate this inner sanctum like a plague and it shook him to his core.
Rumplestiltskin suppressed a shiver.
Baelfire. He was here to honour his son's memory.
Though an utter failure as a father, his grandson would now receive what his son no longer could. He would break the vicious cycle of cowardice that had defined his pathetic excuse of an existence for centuries. His life for Henry's: he could at least do this one final thing right in the end.
"Gold! What the hell are you doing?"
He'd just barely caught the spiralling churn of purple magic out of the corner of his eye before being lambasted.
Emma and Regina. Lovely. Just what he didn't need.
The blonde woman yanked her wrist free from the queen's grip and strode across to him, glaring eyes full of fiery brimstone. He easily read her escalating fury at being left behind.
"How did you find me?" Rumplestiltskin snarled through clenched teeth. This was his sacrifice to make and his alone. It would all be for naught if Henry lost both his mother as well as his father. "You need to leave. Now."
"Hook told us to aim for the tallest mountain," Regina supplied coolly. She glanced around, taking in the fact they currently found themselves in the center of a palatial Great Room carved from ice: circular and wide open to the bone chilling cold.
Before they could descend into a bickering argument an ornate curving staircase sunk open in the floor and a hooded teen appeared with Greg and Tamara trailing hot on his heels. The youth's hand lay heavy on the shoulder of a younger boy, forcefully propelling him forward.
"Eric, you don't have to do this-" Henry abruptly spotted his rescue party and whatever he was going to say ground into nothing. The boy's blossoming grin shone like the sun and Rumple's heart clenched. It was Bae's smile. How had he not recognized it long ago? That piece of his son would live on. He would see to it.
With little more than half a thought, the zip tie binding his grandson's wrists was slashed and fell in pieces to the floor. He was pleased when the boy immediately tried to wrench himself free from his captor's grip. "Moms! Mr. Gold!"
The burning heat of a fireball formed in his palm as the group descended into bumbling confusion and scattered shouts. There was a tumbled pile of bodies and Emma rushed forward blocking his shot. He swore under his breath. Greg pitched himself toward his struggling grandson though he never stood a chance, his rapid fire spell swatting the man aside like the pitiful insect he was.
Faint movement sparked just out of sight yet Rumplestiltskin didn't need to glimpse firsthand the looming crush of destiny. Instead he felt the chilling approach of evil deep within his bones an instant before the shadows morphed into petrifying substance.
He instinctively skittered sideways though it didn't delay the inevitable one iota. And then he was face to face with the shadowed Pan of legend: a darkness greater, stronger, more powerful than anyone there could ever grasp and without a doubt Rumple knew that they were on the precipice of dropping straight into the fiery abyss of hell.
Rumplestiltskin.
The booming voice slashed through his thoughts and he could tell from the terror-stricken glances that his companions had heard it too. It nearly struck him to his knees; the ambush of fear left him a quaking puddle inside.
Bae. He focused on Bae though his end was near. And Belle. He needed to be brave like his Belle. A lifetime of effort to find his son would not be wasted.
"Wha-"
"Who?"
The pair of kidnappers vanished with an imperceptible flick of a shadowy finger. There was no puff of smoke, nothing. They were simply gone.
Rumplestiltskin glanced at Henry. The boy was his undoing and he strove to keep his voice steady. "I will save my-"
Oh I know exactly why you are here, the voice interrupted. Do you truly think you can hide anything from me?
The shadow flitted about before him and as their eyes locked together a sudden vision of his death shredded Rumple's mind like the icy grip of a hammer blow shattering his frozen corpse. He couldn't tell if what he saw was what was to come or merely a possibility and the instant he tried to grasp hold the details, they slipped away into shadow.
Bring me the boy.
"It's him: the one from the prophecy!" The lad named Eric hauled a thrashing Henry to his feet.
Indeed.
"Don't you dare!" Regina tried tossing a spell, but it bounced harmlessly away and as she pivoted, suddenly found herself frozen and struggling in place.
Henry whipped around in the melee that followed, briefly finding freedom until Pan swooped toward him. For a heartbeat they stared straight at the other before shadowy fingers plunged directly through Henry's forehead up to the wrist.
All seemed to drift into haze as if the world hung balanced on a tipping knife blade. He couldn't think. There was a combined yell from both mothers that sounded distant through the onrushing roar of darkness in his ears. No magic came to him and Rumple could only watch helplessly as the boy's eyes widened with fear, mouth forming into a silent scream.
His vision tunnelled.
And Henry gradually faded out of existence leaving behind nothing, a clawed hand extending into the vacant space once occupied by his grandson.
He'd failed: failed Henry; failed Bae. Both were now gone. And his heart crumpled into dust: that smile, his son's smile, would not live on.
"WHERE IS MY SON?" Emma shouted. She tore past Rumplestilskin though he didn't have a clue what she hoped to accomplish. He dropped to his knees in agonizing defeat.
An incendiary blast of white heat tore from her outstretched palms and it was like watching shadow and light vie for dominance. Only there was absolutely no effect, the magic of true love disappearing upon contact as if into a gaping black hole.
That is not the appropriate question, the shadow answered cryptically. White eyes pinned Rumplestiltskin where he knelt. Have no fear. In time we will meet again.
Upon that menacing promise a hand was raised. Next thing they knew, the trio was back on the deck of the Jolly Roger.
84. I will never stop fighting for him!
Belle sat on the darkened beach with her legs tucked up underneath her, just out of reach of the lapping water; arms wrapped tightly around her midriff to ward off a chill. The waves lazily sloshed back and forth across the sand as she stared pensively out over the open ocean. She supposed there was a certain amount of logic in her feet magnetically returning her to this spot once again; had a feeling it was far from being the last.
A shooting star hurtled across the clear night sky and she sighed, unable to find it within herself to even make a wish for she knew it wouldn't be granted.
She'd hidden Rumple's dagger back inside the wishing well before hurrying back to town the other day and no one was any the wiser about its location… nor that she'd used it to summon his dark power. While the part of her that was Lacey had exulted in the electrifying surge of magic, Belle wasn't entirely convinced. She wasn't sure how to reconcile that particular dichotomy now existing within herself… Still, the depth of trust he'd granted her was astounding and that, in and of itself, was worth any misgivings. She hoped.
The town had begun cleaning up the destruction. They'd lost some to the fighting and a handful more to the blasts, but thankfully none to fighting the resulting fires, meaning it was also a time to come together and mourn, giving a sombre colour to the celebration of safety.
There was much to ponder. Except none of those pressing issues was where her heart and her thoughts currently lay. Belle missed him terribly, as if part of herself had been torn away. And the not knowing whether he was safe: she was sure it would drive her insane.
Rumplestiltskin.
And dreams.
All those long lonely nights apart while she'd been held captive: her spirit reaching out for his. They'd been searching for each other in their dreams and that was a truth nearly incomprehensible. She'd never heard of such a thing before, not even in her precious books.
It hadn't happened while they'd been together in Storybrooke, she assumed because of lack of need. When they were both themselves, they'd curled peacefully into each other in sleep, arms gently draped and legs twined.
And when she hadn't known him? There was a shiver of realization. A hand slowly raised; pressed forward slightly in remembrance. She'd felt him through a mirror's glass: a bond of love so profound that it transcended time and space and even memory.
Her heart fluttered.
Their new connection through the blade: would she be able to feel it if, if… she didn't even want to think it… if he was gone? Would they be able to bridge this separation even while awake and though worlds apart? She didn't even know where he was… Yet as his mistress, she could call and he was forcibly bound by deepest magic to answer.
Their cup was sitting next to her on the sand and Belle ran a considering finger around the rim, pausing at the chip. She closed her eyes. If he happened to be just as still as she, then perhaps, just perhaps…
Reaching out with her mind and her heart, she focused on the man she loved: on the tender smile he kept just for her; the way his face lit up with wonder whenever she told him she loved him… Then softly whispered: "Rumplestiltskin. I summon thee."
As with before there was a quiet pause as if the world stilled. Only this time there was a gentle burst of starlight and when she opened her eyes she was on a different darkened beach, warmer, and with golden silk swishing about her feet while she slowly turned in place.
"My darling Belle." He looked weary and drawn, as if a dreadful weight had been thrown on his shoulders.
A couple quick steps had Belle flinging herself toward his embrace. "Rumple." They still couldn't touch and it killed her inside not to be able to offer comfort in that way nor to receive it from him.
They didn't mention it aloud. A single look was more than enough to convey their shared suffering. What was there to say anyway? Instead, her hand hovered over his heart as she asked what was wrong and he shared how they'd lost Henry; how he'd failed. Again.
His anguish tore her heart to ribbons.
"And you? Storybrooke is safe, yes?"
She squinted a little and compressed her lips together, aiming for humour to lighten a darkened world. "Well… you can tell Regina that we're dreadfully sorry, but a fighter jet blew up her house. Also, the sheriff's station."
He snorted. "Couldn't have happened to a more deserving woman."
"I thought you'd like that." Belle looked as if she were trying to suppress a grin then any brief flit with happiness slipped from her face. "Where are you?"
"Standing alone on the prow of the Jolly Roger. I am persona non grata right now."
Her rolling eyes told him that wasn't exactly what she'd meant and it earned her a small smile.
Rumplestiltskin silently urged her to turn with a gesturing finger and a palm placed near her hip. Standing behind, he inched closer then reached an arm over her bare shoulder to point a clawed finger up to the heavens stretching majestically above the shadowy ocean swells. Gentle waves lapped just out of reach of their toes and the yearning to feel his strong arms wrapped tightly around her was so great that it took everything she had not to lean backward into his embrace.
"See that constellation there? Now slip just a little out of the dream so you can see the same one from Storybrooke." His gravelly voice was a soft breath in her ear. "Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning. Neverland. I'm in Neverland, sweetheart."
She did as he asked and it was the oddest sensation of being in two places at once. Her lip quivered. "It's so far away."
Momentary forgetfulness had delicate fingertips reaching for his outstretched hand and she sucked in a disappointed breath when they slid through his.
"And this place?"
"A dream world is as apt a description as any. It only exists between us."
The silence stretched between them at that, but it wasn't uncomfortable, merely thoughtful.
She sighed: "I need you. So much." Belle finally turned to face him then quietly admitted what she hoped he'd already realized: "I'm just as lost and alone without you as you are without me."
They were supposed to have forever. She'd promised and he'd accepted. Rumple nodded an unspoken acknowledgement of the sorrow etched on her heart. She deliberately raised her right hand; he mirrored with his left.
Touch: a phenomenon as fundamental as breathing. Slowly, oh so infinitesimally slowly, Belle inched her trembling palm toward his and their eyes locked in a fervent gaze that neither could break had they even the desire to try.
Her heart thudded loudly against her ribs, willing it to work as Rumple followed her lead, edging his own hand closer.
Closer.
Pushing ever closer.
Two millimetres apart then one…
Her face scrunched with deepest concentration, unconsciously latching onto something strong and powerful surging just beneath the surface while they murmured heartfelt words of love and need and deepest devotion.
A weak smear of white light appeared around the edges, gradually growing ever stronger as distance decreased. She paused for a brief second; focused on the first time he'd told her he loved her: the utter joy when he believed she loved him back.
"Rumple."
Then with a tiny flash there was the solid pressure of skin against skin and they were through the barrier.
He quickly laced his fingers through hers, gripping tightly as her breath shuddered and she was rapidly jerked into his embrace, his free arm securely encircling her waist.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
Her cheek pressed snug to his shoulder, the heady scent of his leather vest tickling her nose, and Belle gently stroked her fingertips up his back to card the hair at the nape of his neck; thumb caressing precious skin just above the burgundy collar of his silk shirt. She'd wondered for years what the texture of scales felt like and now she knew.
"Dance with me?" He nosed dark hair out of the way to press a soft kiss to the base of her throat and she laughed a little in agreement; squeezed his hand.
Bubbling joy burst forth from within and Belle's feet had wings as they spun and swayed to the music of the waves until finally all they could do was stand still together under the stars, silently holding on for dear life while she stared across his shoulder at the dual trail of footprints strung together in the sand.