13
Out of the Shadows
"Yes, me again, boy," Gold drawled, his eyes suddenly hard as winter frost. "I'm only going to say this once, and I won't repeat myself, so you listen up, and listen good." One slender finger stabbed at the former First Boy of Neverland.
Felix tilted his head, half-mockingly, then sneered, "Okay, okay, old man. I'm listening."
"No, you're not. But I guarantee that by the time I'm done, you will be," Gold declared, his tone low but with a terrible calmness, the sort of calm that precedes a natural disaster, had Felix only known. "I've come to talk to you about what happened on Neverland, how you abused and tormented a little boy who is now under my protection. When you knew him, you called him Mouse, and treated him no better than a piece of trash, or a mongrel dog to catch a kick in the ribs, or a cuff when things didn't go your way. He was your whipping boy. Your slave. But no longer. Now he's my son, Mathias Gold, and if you dare do anything to him, Felix, here's what will happen to you."
Gold's eyes suddenly went flat, like flint, and he spoke in a soft voice, but its tone was no less deadly for being so quiet. His whole stance altered, so that he seemed suddenly taller, darker, more menacing. Suddenly the benevolent debonair businessman transformed into a boogeyman out of childhood nightmares, the one whispered about on late winter nights around the fire, the one your mother warned you about when you went deep into the woods foraging as dusk fell across the land, a creature of darkness and shadow, waiting to devour you.
It was then that Felix felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and a chill run down his backbone. It was then that he remembered that Mr. Gold was not only the richest man in Storybrooke, but the former Dark One. Frozen to the marrow of his bones, terrified the way he had never been in all of his life, the former First Boy remained still like a mouse who senses a hawk circling, knowing that his life could end in a mere second.
Gold continued. "I have known people like you my whole life—bullies who think their arrogance gives them the right to abuse and mock those whom they regard as inferior, who think their strength gives them the right to torment and hurt those smaller or weaker than they, who use that to lord it over others, as if that somehow makes them better. But I learned that it doesn't make them any better than the next man. All it does is make them cowards! Yes, cowards!" Gold spat. "For it takes no courage to hurt someone who can't fight back, whether a child or a cripple. Because people like you know your victim is helpless and so you're safe from retribution. Safe in the knowledge that you don't have to worry about someone beating you down in a fair fight. And there is nothing more cowardly that that, boy."
Gold advanced upon the boy, and Felix backed away, whimpering slightly, until he fetched up against the sink, his back pressing against the stainless steel basin. Trapped with nowhere to go.
"Please, Mr. Gold—"
"Please, Mr. Gold!" Rumple mocked loudly, a sneer curling his handsome face. "And how many times did Mouse say please when you were whipping him? How many times did he beg you to stop . . . and you just kept on . . . because you could? How many, boy?"
"I . . . I don't know! I . . . I can't remember!" Felix babbled, panic showing in his eyes.
"You can't remember," Gold hissed. "And do you know why? Because you didn't care! You didn't care that you were brutalizing a little child for no other reason than you needed something to blame after your camp was invaded. Because to you, he didn't matter any more than a pebble in your shoe. Isn't that true?"
Felix trembled. "Uh . . . yes . . ."
"What was that? I said, isn't that true?"
"Yes, sir!" the Lost Boy whined, shaking now for it seemed Gold's eyes were suddenly more reptilian than human.
"And that is why I changed your blasted whip into a viper that bit you. So you could know a bit of the pain and suffering you caused my son!" Gold growled. "But even that wasn't enough . . . and now I'm here to tell you something else. You are going to leave my son alone. You are not to speak to him, or look at him, or even breathe around him. And if I catch you so much as giving him a cross look, you had best find the nearest portal and throw yourself into it, because I shall hunt you down, no matter where you run, no matter where you hide . . . and I shall transform you into a hideous beast with ten thousand tentacles and pulsing red veins erupting out of graying skin with hooks for hands and lantern-like eyes and four legs like a centaur. People shall run in terror at the sight of you, but there will be some who hunt you, for you shall belch rubies and cough up emeralds and shit diamonds. And so they will all wish a piece of you, and you shall be hunted down and skinned, for your hide will be worth a kingdom's ransom. And even when skinned, your torment shall not end, for you shall recall every horrible moment of it, and be forced to tell your tale over and over, every night, so that all may know the shame and loathing of the coward known as Felix, who tortured and abused a little child, and this was your punishment!"
Felix went paler than new milk, for there was something dangerous in Gold's eyes now, something that whispered that if Felix dared to disregard his instructions, he would take great pleasure in making his prediction come true. Felix swallowed, for his mouth had gone drier than a bone without marrow, and he found himself sweating and shaking as if he was stricken with a deadly plague.
And its name . . . was Rumplestiltskin.
"Am I understood, boy?" the former imp demanded, with a slight evil giggle at the end of the query.
Felix nodded frantically.
"What was that? I can't hear you!"
Felix moistened his tongue then said, his voice quivering, "Yes sir, Mr. Gold, sir! I understand!" Tears stood in his eyes, so frightened was he of the vision Gold had painted with his cold declaration.
"And you'll leave Mathias alone?"
"Yes! Yes! I promise!" Felix whimpered. "Just please don't hurt me! I don't want to be a hideous beast!"
Gold stabbed his finger into Felix's chest. "Then stay away from my son! Or else a disaster beyond your wildest imaginings shall occur!"
Felix made a sound similar to a deflated pig bladder, a kind of whimpering petrified whine.
Gold drew back then, and gave the boy a look of utter disgust. "And clean yourself up, you blubbering baby!" he said coldly, then spun around and stalked out.
Felix looked down at himself . . . and went scarlet in shame, for there was a wet stain on the front of his pants.
There came a snort, and Felix looked up and saw Granny glowering at him.
The old woman just looked at him, then said, "I heard every word, boy. You'd best do what he said . . . or I'll hand you over to him . . . after I strip the hide off of you myself. So better remember that . . . and start getting a new attitude and changing your ways. Now go get changed."
Then she tucked a dishtowel in her apron and marched out of the kitchen. There were precious few times when she agreed with Gold, but for once she was glad that Rumplestiltskin had put the fear of the Dark One into that miscreant. It was a start, at least, to letting the boy realize that he wasn't the cock of the walk anymore, and his actions had consequences, and he could no longer hide behind the dictates of Peter Pan.
Felix went and bolted for the back door, heading back to the house to get changed, and thinking to himself, Damn, but that is one badass motherfucking sorcerer!
Page~*~*~*~*~Break
Gold's Victorian:
Now that she was engaged to Rumple, Belle decided to move back to Gold's house, and with the help of her fiancée and her new son, took almost everything from her small apartment back there. By then the whole town knew of her changed circumstances, and for once there was no nasty gossip surrounding her choice, and even her father, Maurice, had nothing derogatory to say about Mr. Gold.
She had gone to his shop, Game of Thorns, to show him her engagement ring after she had moved back into Gold's Victorian, and he had looked at the ring, looked at her, and said, "Does he truly . . . make you happy, Belle?"
"He does, Father. He's not the monster you've always thought him. He's changed. And he loves me and I love him. I've come here to share the news of our engagement . . . and I hope you will give me away at my wedding in a few months."
Maurice slowly nodded. "If . . . if that is what you wish . . . then I shall try and be civil to him . . . for your sake."
"That's a start, then. Oh, and we'd like you to come over and meet our son, Mathias," Belle added.
"Your son?" he repeated, looking flummoxed.
"Yes. Rumple and I have adopted one of the Lost Boys, a child named Mouse. Well, that was his name, before I gave him a real one." Belle told him eagerly.
"How old is the boy?"
"Umm . . . Rumple thinks maybe seven. He's such a sweet inquisitive boy, Father! Do say you'll come and meet him . . . your grandson."
"Why don't you bring him by the shop, Belle?" Maurice suggested. "I think . . . I'd be more comfortable if he came here. That house . . . has always . . . seemed like some rich showpiece to me."
Belle considered. She could see why her father was intimidated. "Okay. I'll bring him to meet you . . . say next Wednesday?"
"That would be fine. And . . . congratulations," Maurice added.
Belle beamed at him. "Thank you, Father! I think . . . with time . . . you'll see that Rumple is a good man . . . and he was the right choice for me."
Then she left the shop, her heart a thousand times lighter.
Page~*~*~*~*~Break
But if things were going smoothly for Belle and Rumple at last, the same could not be said for their new son. Despite having a wonderful new home, with his own room, and a whole wardrobe of new clothes (all soft and fresh-smelling), shoes, and even puzzles, games, and toys, as well as a TV and a Blue Ray player, Mathias still had a hard time accepting that this was all real. A part of him was still convinced this was but a dream, and he would someday wake and find himself back on Neverland, still a slave, still just wimpy Mouse.
His welts were healing with daily applications of both Tiger Lily's salve and the silvadeen cream Whale had prescribed, and Belle made certain he took his antibiotics twice a day with food, to prevent infection. Mathias didn't like them much, as even with food they tended to make him feel ill, but he knew they were necessary and so put up with the nagging upset stomach and the runs they gave him.
Until Rumple discovered his plight one evening while they were playing checkers, and the poor boy bolted from the table and into the bathroom. After some gentle questioning, the pawnbroker learned the antibiotics were making the boy sick, and called Whale the next morning to ask if they could be changed to a milder dose, and Whale switched the prescription and recommended Gold give the boy some probiotics along with the antibiotic and once he had done so, Mathias found he could tolerate the medicine much better.
"Next time, son, tell me or your mama if you're sick like this," Gold had reprimanded mildly. "So we can help you."
"I . . . I didn't want to be a bother," Mathias said, ashamed.
"You aren't. If we don't know you're sick, then we can't help you," Gold stressed. "Okay?"
"Okay, Papa," Mathias said obediently. He would remember, but he still felt odd having someone looking out for him . . . and thinking that it actually mattered if he were feeling well or not.
And Rumple and Belle had already done so much for him, more than he felt he deserved, and he didn't feel right asking for anything else. The inhaler they'd gotten he used any time he felt his chest getting tight, or when he found it hard to breathe because of nerves, which usually only happened after one of his nightmares.
The kindly Dr. Hopper had recommended a night light and some special tea before bed, and Mathias had that and stories from both his parents before he fell asleep, yet still he had nightmares, and woke shuddering and gasping almost every night. Despite Archie's insistence that he tell his parents whenever that happened, Mathias mostly kept silent about it. He didn't want to disturb his parents' rest, or make them think he was a coward crybaby afraid of the dark.
One morning, a little over a week after Mathias had come to Storybrooke, the boy woke shaking from a dark dream where Pan had shoved him out into the middle of a deep lake and bid him swim back home, knowing full well that Mathias couldn't do anything so vigorous, lest his throat close up and he drown. And Mathias had begged him to please get him, and Pan had laughed and yelled, "Play the game, Mouse!"
Mathias had woken up feeling the water close over his head, and had to take a breath of the inhaler to stop an attack, and calm himself down. He huddled in his bed, with its sleek sheets colored a soothing indigo blue and the special blanket his papa had made just for him, out of gold and green yarn knitted in a star pattern. His hands gripped the blanket and he glanced wildly about the room, with its flatscreen TV and velvety beanbag chair the closet with his clothes arranged neatly and shoes, the dresser with his figurines of dragons, knights, wizards, and mythical creatures on it, and his desk with paper, colored pencils, a sketchbook, notebooks, and some workbooks on it, since Belle was teaching him to read and write.
He looked out the window, partially covered by a midnight blue swag, and saw it was barely light out, the time of the morning he was accustomed to waking at when he was in Neverland, to get the fire going and cook breakfast before the other boys awoke.
He looked at the little clock, shaped like a wizard's hat, on his nightstand, next to the little nightlight that revolved around, it was a globe with the constellation Pegasus on it, and saw it was only 4 AM.
It was too early to get up, both his mama and papa had stressed he was to sleep until at least seven o'clock, but the dream had frightened him so much that he couldn't fall asleep again. He buried his head in the pillow, trying to go back to sleep, but the horrible feeling of drowning made him unable to do so, and after another puff of his inhaler, he found he couldn't stay in bed any longer, and crawled out of his cozy nest and stood on the hardwood floor.
Gold had promised to get a carpet in the room, which had once been an office, until Mathias had come, but hadn't gotten around to it yet, and the boy felt it was unnecessary—he'd made do with the ground before he'd come here, and any floor was sheer luxury.
It was a little chilly, but the former Lost Boy barely noticed it as he padded like a ghost down the stairs and into the main room of the house. He walked into the kitchen and started to pull out a pot, intending to make breakfast, then he noticed a faint smudge upon the cream colored tile.
Dirt.
And if there was one thing he knew how to do, it was clean.
He recalled Belle showing him some cleaning products beneath the sink one day as she filled a bucket and mopped the floor after a can of sticky soda had exploded all over it, falling out of the fridge.
Mathias went to the small closet and found the bucket, and also something called a mop and a broom and dustpan.
Though neither of them had said anything, Mathias knew he should repay them for buying him new clothes and giving him a room and food to eat. So he began sweeping and mopping the kitchen floor, as was proper for a servant boy.
Since he couldn't sleep, he might as well work, he thought, and soon had finished the kitchen floor and moved on into the foyer.
Page~*~*~*~*~*~Break
Two and a half hours later, Belle and Rumple woke, since Rumple usually got up early to open up his shop by seven, and Belle wanted to cook him breakfast before he left. While Rumple shaved in the bathroom, Belle pulled on a pink terry robe and slippers and went downstairs to put on some coffee.
She found some of the lights on and the floor shining from being polished and everything in the kitchen sparkled, as if it had been scrubbed recently. She rubbed her eyes, sure she smelled Pine Sol and lemon Pledge.
What's going on?
She looked around, and walked into the foyer, noting it too was sparkling clean. Then she went into the den, and saw that everything had been straightened, including all the books beside the entertainment system, and Rumple's basket with yarn had been . . . neatly arranged by color and his needles carefully inserted into his latest project, a hat for Mathias, which lay on top of the yarn balls.
She frowned, thinking that if she didn't know better, she would assume that some good spirit or helpful brownie had come and cleaned the house while they slept!
She heard a faint noise coming from the dining room, where Gold's curio cabinet was, and went to see what had made it, praying there wasn't a robber in the house. On the way there, she grabbed a rolling pin from the rack on the kitchen wall, it being the first thing she saw.
She crept into the room . . . and saw Mathias dusting like a fiend, wielding a soft chamois cloth and a featherduster, dusting the inside of the curio cabinet and carefully polishing all the collectibles Rumple had within it before placing them back inside.
"My goodness! Mathias, did you clean the whole downstairs!" Belle gasped.
The little boy jerked up at her voice, startled because he hadn't thought anyone awake yet, and his hand, which had been cradling the blue willow teapot from Rumple's favorite tea set (the one with the chipped cup), slipped and the delicate white and blue porcelain with 24-karat gold around the handle and the rim plummeted onto the floor and shattered.
"No!" Mathias hissed, horrified.
He stared down at the teapot, now broken into a million little bits and pieces, and he knew he was in serious trouble for touching it . . . and worse . . . breaking it. Belle had told him the story of the tea set and he knew Rumple was going to be furious that he had broken the teapot.
He put a hand over his mouth, gasping.
"Mathias! Don't move!" Belle ordered. "There's glass all over, you could cut yourself. Stay still and I'll get a broom and a dustpan." All she could think of right then was saving the boy from getting a nasty cut in his foot, since he had forgotten to put on his slippers again and was barefoot.
She hurried away to find the broom and dustpan, leaving Mathias standing there, shocked.
The little boy's eyes filled with tears as he stared at the wreckage, and he felt his asthma suddenly flare up. As his breathing became impaired and he thought woefully of how angry Rumple would be with him, he heard his papa come down the stairs and call, "Belle? What was that noise? I thought I heard something break," as he entered the kitchen.
Dread curled within him and the little boy hopped deftly over the broken shards and fled up the stairs. He needed to use his inhaler and also to prepare himself for the wrath of his father sure to fall upon him for destroying his precious teapot.
"Rumple, I found Mathias up and he was . . . cleaning the whole house!" Belle told him as she searched for the broom in the kitchen closet. "He was dusting the curio cabinet and I . . . startled him and he dropped a teapot, that was what you heard breaking."
"He was what? Cleaning the house?" Rumple repeated. "What for?"
Belle shrugged. "I . . . don't know. I didn't have time to ask before he dropped the teapot and there was glass everywhere and he was barefoot, so I went to get the broom, I didn't want him to cut himself . . ."
"Let me see, dearie," Gold said calmly, then went into the dining room. "Mathias, lad, what happened?"
Only to find the remains of the teapot all over the floor and the little boy was gone.
Belle came and stared in dismay. "Oh, Rumple! Where did he go? I told him not to move."
"Don't worry, Belle, about the teapot. I'll fix it with magic," Rumple told her. "Right now though, I'd better see where the boy went. He's probably hiding somewhere, afraid I'm going to be angry with him."
"The poor thing! Rumple . . . you're not . . . are you?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Of course not! It's just a teapot."
He turned and made his way upstairs, calling softly, "Mathias, where are you?"
Mathias cringed and bit his lip when he heard Gold's tread upon the stairs and then his name being called. He wanted to crawl in a hole, he was so ashamed. He knew better than to drop things, he had been punished enough by Pan for being clumsy. And now he had broken something special of his papa's . . . something from their old realm and it couldn't be replaced. He fumbled and dropped his inhaler on his bed.
Stupid! Stupid Mouse! Now you're in for it, and you deserve whatever punishment you get, you dumb clumsy idiot!
He darted out of his room, which was a ways down the hall, and peered across the hall towards the stairs, where he saw his father climbing up them. Strangely, his papa didn't seem all that angry . . . but perhaps he was and just not showing it yet. Pan had done that. Sometimes he would smile and speak softly to Mouse . . . just before he unleashed his wrath upon him for something.
You've been horribly bad. And you know what bad boys deserve, a familiar voice taunted in his head.
He bowed his head, tears glistening on his lashes.
Crybaby! Coward crybaby! Now the voice in his head sounded like Felix, sneering at him for crying and acting like a baby.
Mathias swallowed hard. No! I'm not a coward or a crybaby! Biting his lip, he scurried down the hall, determined to show his father that his son was brave . . . brave enough to take his punishment like a man. He slipped inside Rumple's bedroom . . . for what he needed was inside it.
Rumple opened his mouth to call for his son again, going down the hall towards the boy's room, figuring the child was in there. "Mathias?"
Just as he reached the door, and was peeking around the doorframe inside, he heard a small voice say, "Here I am, sir."
Gold turned to see the little boy standing a few feet behind him, looking at the ground. He looked utterly wretched. "Hey," Gold began. "It's okay, it was an accident—" he lost his voice as he saw what the boy was holding in his hands. "Son, what are you doing with . . . that?"
Mathias shivered slightly, then held out the belt he had fetched from the bedroom. Obviously his papa hadn't had time to get it himself, so Mathias had done so, knowing quite well what the punishment for bad little boys who broke special things was. He only hoped Rumple didn't hit too hard, since he was still sore from the previous beating.
Rumple stared at the belt in the boy's outstretched hands as if it were a viper, revulsion crawling over his features.
Mathias didn't understand why his papa didn't take the belt and punish him. "Sir?" he asked uncertainly, sniffling. "I'm sorry . . . I didn't mean to . . ." He swallowed again, mastering his tears, biting his lip to shreds.
"Mathias . . ."
The child thrust the belt at him again, whispering, "Here, sir."
"Lad, why do I need this?" Rumple made himself ask.
The little boy gave him an incredulous look. "So . . . so you can punish me for . . . for breaking the teapot."
"And you think . . . I'm going to beat you over that?"
Mathias nodded, sniffling. "Uh huh." When it appeared that Rumple wasn't going to take the belt, the boy shoved it into his hands. Then he turned around quickly and bent over, bracing himself against the wall. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cry as he waited for the punishment to start.
Rumple just stared at the child for several moments, thinking he can't really expect me to . . . to beat him . . . while another part hissed, of course he can . .. after all that's what they did to him on Neverland . . .The thought made him ill. Then he dropped the belt on the floor and reached out and gently tugged the little boy around to face him.
The startled Mathias burst into tears, not understanding why his papa didn't just give him his punishment and get it over with. "I'm so-o-rry!" he bawled. He waited to be shoved back against the wall and to feel the belt across his backside.
Instead he found himself being hugged and Rumple's hand, instead of smacking him like he deserved, was stroking his hair. Utterly confused, he started to cry harder.
"Shh! Mathias, it's okay. You're not in trouble. I'm not going to punish you," Rumple reassured him.
Shocked at that statement, Mathias stopped sobbing. "Y-You're not? But . . . But I broke your favorite teapot . . . I w-was bad . . ."
"Hey . . . look at me," his papa ordered, waiting until the child's eyes met his before saying, "It was an accident, son, and I will never punish you over an accident . . . or beat you with anything . . . and especially not a belt! That ended when I rescued you from Felix. There will be no more beatings, Mathias, not ever again. Not from me, not from anyone. Because that's not how my children are punished."
The boy blinked up at him. "They're . . . not?"
"No. I never used a belt on Bae, and I sure won't start with you. In this house, a belt is for holding up your pants, and that's all."
"Then . . . what are you gonna use? A stick?"
"Nothing. Not a stick, or a whip, or my hand. I'll never hit you, Mathias. The only way you'll ever be punished is by scoldings and maybe some time in your room, thinking about your misbehavior. That's all."
That was all? Mathias almost couldn't grasp that concept. It seemed too good to be true. Ever since he could remember, he had known kicks and cuffs and beatings, sometimes every couple of days, depending on the mood that Peter or Felix or a few others were in. "I . . . don't understand."
Rumple knelt and put his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Mathias, listen to me. I will never beat you. Not for any reason. Ever. Remember that, please. And as far as breaking my teapot goes . . . I want you to come with me and see something."
He took his son gently by the hand and led him back downstairs.
By then, Belle had swept up the glass shards of the teapot and placed them on a cloth on the table.
Rumple led the child over to where Belle stood, with the shards of the teapot on the table. "Now . . . anything that breaks in this house can always be mended. Like this," and he waved a hand over the broken shards and purple magic swirled about them, putting them back together again.
It was as if the teapot had never been broken.
"There! It's fixed," Rumple told him. "And even if it wasn't, it's just a teapot, son, and not worth getting hysterical over and certainly not worth getting beaten over."
"Beaten?" Belle exclaimed, horrified.
"That's what he thought I was going to do to him," Rumple told her. "He brought me my belt so I could punish him. Until I convinced him otherwise."
"My God!" Belle exclaimed. "Mathias, we would never do that! Belts are for holding up pants and dresses, and making a dress look fancy, but certainly not to hit little boys!"
Mathias stared at her, she seemed so distressed over what had been an everyday thing back on the island.
"You're our son, Mathias, and not a slave," Rumple added. "You don't need to clean the whole house in order to make us proud to have you. Though I do thank you for it, it's not necessary. We love you and always will, no matter if you scrub the floor or not."
Mathias' relief was so great he started sniffling, as his heart realized then what his head had been telling him a week ago . . . that he was no longer Mouse, but Mathias Gold. No longer a slave, but a child, a child who didn't need to fear whippings and beatings ever again. And it was then he realized that it was finally over . . . the nightmare was ended, now and forever, and he could finally come out of the shadows for good.
Then Belle grabbed him in a hug and he cried all over her, uncaring because at last he was loved and wanted, and had found a place where he belonged, a place where he could be, at last, just an ordinary little boy.
When he finally stopped crying, Rumple handed him a tissue and then said, "Okay, now let's have some breakfast . . . and some tea along with it." Then he picked up the teapot and set it in the middle of the kitchen table, with hot water and teabags steeping inside it, and next to it was a matching sugar bowl and creamer, and three cups.
And they all had tea and some of Belle's delicious oatmeal with brown sugar, cinnamon, bananas, and walnuts, before Gold had to leave for work and Belle got ready to show Mathias how to recognize the letters of the alphabet while helping her bake a pie for dessert that night.