Chapter 11

Lonesome Loser

The crew came back early, Baelfire thought. He lay in his bunk, tracing the carvings on his wooden sword with his finger. His father's name. The creaking of the deck above him and the distant murmur of voices continued. Maybe they were having a party. Too bad he was too young for parties. It was his birthday after all.

The door of his cabin swung open and Mama came over to sit beside him. Baelfire hugged the sword, hiding the markings.

"Did you have a good birthday?" she asked, touching the wooden blade.

He smiled. "Yep."

"Dougal said you met a beggar today."

Baelfire hugged his sword tighter. "He was hungry. And his cloak was patched. He looked like a wizard."

Mama smiled. "You gave him your money, didn't you?"

Baelfire nodded. "Just a little."

"That was very nice of you."

"Mama? Why was he alone? Why wasn't his family with him?" He couldn't ask her what he really wanted to know. Not now. She might suspect that the beggar was Papa, and then she'd take his sword away.

Mama didn't answer right away. "Well, I don't know, Baelfire. Maybe he doesn't have any family."

"Why not?"

Mama sighed. "Maybe they got sick and died. Maybe he never had a family. Beggars can't find work, so they can't take care of a family."

"He can't take care of himself, either. That's why he was hungry?"

"Perhaps."

"I wanna help him, Mama."

"Oh, Baelfire. We can't help all the beggars in the world, not even just the ones in this city."

"I want to help this one." He looked up at Mama, trying his hardest to be cute and sad and pleading. It usually worked for the other things, like bedtime and treats.

"You did help this one. You gave him your birthday money so he can get something to eat. What else can you do for him?" Mama wasn't falling for his trick this time.

"He doesn't have to be alone. He can come with us."

The ship rocked on the waves, and Mama stood.

"No, he can't, Baelfire. A ship is no place for a cripple." She kissed him goodnight and shuttered the lamp, leaving just enough of its flickering glow so it wasn't completely dark.

After she left, Bae resumed tracing Papa's name on his sword. Just as he was drifting off to sleep, he realized he never told Mama the beggar was a cripple. Mama knew it was Papa! He jumped out of his bunk and raced over to the little round window, climbing on top of a chest to see out.

The ship continued to rock with the waves, and the lights of Seatown were fading in the distance.

They had left Papa behind again!

Bae watched the lights until they disappeared, then climbed back into his bunk and fell asleep hugging Papa's wooden sword.

Rumplestiltskin managed to crawl over to where his staff had landed, then maneuvered to lay along the side wall of the tavern, out of the way of passerby. His ankle was fire, but the rest of him hurt as well. He was panting from the effort of moving, each breath shallow to avoid the painful tickle that waited on the edges. He closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, it was morning, and there was a stranger standing over him. He flinched away, but the wall at his back kept him from moving very far.

"Easy, there," the stranger said. "I just want my cloak back." He untied the one on his shoulders, letting the pitiful, patched cloak flutter to the ground next to Rumplestiltskin.

He didn't look much like the drunk he had stolen the cloak from last night, but he must not have paid too much attention to the man, because the patched cloak was definitely the one Rumplestiltskin left behind. This man was balding, wispy gray hair sticking out in all directions. He seemed kind enough, gentle expression, no visible weapons to retaliate with if Rumplestiltskin gave him what he wanted. He saw no reason not to trust the man's words.

Rumplestiltskin reached up to untie his cloak, but when he shifted to roll off of it, his injuries flared. He groaned, gasping as he rested his forehead on the cobblestones, his hand landing on the patched cloak and gripping it tightly until the pain passed.

The stranger shuffled forward and knelt beside him, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Looks like whatever you wanted my cloak for didn't work out the way you wanted," he said.

Rumplestiltskin couldn't answer. It was hard to breathe without whimpering. It was hard to think without realizing that once again, Baelfire was likely out of reach. Even if the Jolly Roger was still in port, Jones wouldn't let Bae wander without an escort again. They wouldn't let Rumplestiltskin anywhere near him. Not that he was going anywhere like this.

He had failed.