14

Tuesdays With Grandpa Maury

A few days later, Belle brought Mathias by Game of Thorns to meet Maurice. The child was intensely curious about him, as he had never had any kind of family like this before, and didn't know what it would be like to meet a grandparent. "Was he really a king in Fairy Tale Land, Mama?"

"Yes, he was. And I was a princess, once upon a time." Belle told him.

"So . . . I guess that makes me . . ." Mathias's mouth dropped open as he came to the obvious conclusion.

"A prince, since you're my son," Belle concluded.

"Me?" the little boy halted in the middle of the sidewalk. "But I'm not really—"

Belle put a finger on his lips. "Oh, yes, you are, Mathias Gold! You are my son, in every way except one, and when I adopted you, you gained my status. So you are a prince, even though such things like that don't matter here. Here it's more important what you do, not what you were born as. So I can be a princess and a librarian, and your grandpa was a king and now he's a florist and a gardener."

"And Papa's a sorcerer, a spinner, and a pawnbroker," Mathias recited.

"Yes, your papa is many things," Belle said, smiling at him.

"But not a prince."

"No."

"I'm glad. 'Cause if everybody was a prince, it'd be awful boring," he stated.

Belle started laughing. "You're right, scamp. It would be." Then she reached out and straightened his long-sleeved plaid shirt, which had once been Rumple's, and which Mathias, despite having many new clothes, seemed to prefer over all his other ones. He was also wearing the gray T-shirt made of velvet-soft cotton and the loose gray trousers Rumple had given him that first morning. Rumple had shrunk them slightly so they were a little less baggy since his backside was healing well, and he also wore his black Converse. Mathias had also gone to visit the barber recently, and his flyaway mop of brown hair had been trimmed into a cut that resembled his father's.

Soon they reached Game of Thorns, and Belle led the way into the shop, calling softly, "Father? We're here."

"Just a minute. I'm in the back," they heard a man's voice answer.

Mathias looked about the shop curiously. There were flowers and plants everywhere, almost like a miniature jungle or garden had been brought inside. Some were in large earthenware pots and others hung in baskets from the ceiling. There were rows of small flowers arranged neatly in glass vases near the counter, and then there was a small stream burbling along some flat rocks and statues of frogs, dragonflies, and creatures that looked like fauns. More plants, similar to the ones on Neverland, surrounded the stream. There was also a rack with potting soil, gardening tools, and insect sprays. Plus an even larger display of all kinds of containers for your plants and flowers.

Mathias went over to some African violets, eyeing the pretty plants, for he had never seen ones like this before, though they had many exotic species on Neverland. A small sign told what they were. Frowning, he mouthed the words to himself, sounding them out in his head like Belle had taught him.

"Those are pretty, aren't they?" Belle said as she came over to him. "They're African violets."

"They'd look nice in the kitchen window," her son suggested, referring to the large bay window in the kitchen, right behind the table.

"They would, wouldn't they?" Belle agreed.

Mathias nodded, then moved around to look at some other plants and herbs, many of which he recognized, even though he couldn't read their names on the little cards.

Just then Maurice appeared from the back of the shop, wiping his hands on a rag in his pocket. He was dressed in jeans and cotton shirt with his customary gray windbreaker over it, wearing a baseball cap on his thatch of dark hair. He came around the counter and hugged Belle, saying, "How are you doing?"

"Fine, Father. Never better," she assured him. "Now go meet your new grandson." She indicated the child peering at an acanthus.

Maurice approached the boy, thinking as he did so that the child was a good-looking little chap, if a little thin, though Belle had told him that was because he'd been starved mostly on that Godforsaken island. She had also told him about the child's asthma and how he had been treated like a slave on Neverland by Pan, Felix, and the majority of the Lost Boys. She had even told him of the terrible lashing he'd endured and how Rumple had rescued him and they were now working to cure him of the wounds he bore both of body and spirit. That had gone a long way to getting Maurice to see Gold as a changed man.

"Hello. You must be Mathias," Maurice said, keeping his voice low, because Belle had stressed the boy was shy.

Mathias turned, his brown eyes meeting the former king's shyly. "Yes, sir. I'm Mathias Gold." He held out a hand as Rumple had taught him.

"Maurice French, but most everybody calls me Moe," Maurice said, taking the boy's hand in his. "But I guess . . . since you're my grandson, you can call me—"

"Grandpa Maury?" Mathias suggested, then he blushed and looked at his sneakers. "I'm sorry, sir. I shouldn't interrupt, Papa says that's bad manners."

Maurice chuckled then. "It's okay, lad. Grandpa Maury. You know, I like that." He patted the child lightly on the shoulder.

Mathias gazed up at the florist, thinking that Maurice might be a big bluff man, with his broad shoulders and round face, but he wasn't afraid of him like he'd been of Felix and Peter. A slow shy smile crept over his face.

Maurice found that the boy's grin was like watching the sun come out after a drenching downpour. It reminded him oddly of his daughter, and suddenly the initial awkwardness he'd felt vanished. "So, Mathias, do you like plants?"

The little boy nodded eagerly. "Yes, sir. I do." He pointed to one. "That's an acanthus, and this one over here is a fiddlehead fern, and this one is a calla lily, and that's a philodendron . . ."

Maurice and Belle watched in amazement as the child went around naming all the plants in the shop that he recognized, until Maurice said, "My God, he's like an encyclopedia! Belle, did you teach him that?"

"No, Father. He . . . he can't even read well yet, I'm just teaching him how to spell and recognize words," Belle said, amazed.

"Mathias, can you tell me how you would care for this plant over here?" asked Maurice, curious to see what the boy would say.

Mathias looked at the plant, which was a tropical plumeria, and said, "This is a pink plumeria, and it needs lots of sun and some water, enough so the soil stays moist, but not too much, it should be just enough to wet it down and not be dry."

"Yes, that's correct. How do you know that?"

Mathias shrugged. "Tiger Lily taught me. She's a dryad, she knows everything about growing things, plants and herbs and that sort of thing. And since . . . since I was her friend, she taught me a lot of stuff about plants and herbs and how they grow and what they can do for you."

"That's marvelous! And you . . . you remember what she told you," Maurice said excitedly. It was rare to find a youngster that was interested in growing things and plants nowadays, instead of baseball or video games.

Mathias nodded. "I had to. There wasn't any paper to write things down, and even if there had been, I couldn't write anything since I don't know how. But Mama's teachin' me how to write my name an' read too," he told his grandfather proudly. "And Papa says I should pick it right up, since I'm smart as a whip."

"He's right," Maurice agreed. And that was shocking, that he actually agreed with Rumplestiltskin about something. "How would you like to help me arrange some flowers and transplant some too?"

"Really?" Mathias' eyes shone.

"Come on," Maurice led the child back into his back room, where he had all the flowers waiting to be arranged and some others waiting to be put in different pots to sell. He handed the child a trowel and a pair of small gloves and said, "Let's see what you do with this geranium over here. I want to put it into a smaller pot, since I need this big one for something else."

Mathias examined the pots along a shelf, selecting one that was about medium sized. Without being told, he mixed two different kinds of potting soil together and filled the medium pot with it, leaving space to put in the geranium.

Maurice watched as his grandson carefully uprooted the geranium, managing not to spill any dirt and getting the entire plant out without damaging it. The boy placed the plant in the new soil, then found a half-full can of water and watered it before tamping the soil down and giving the plant more water. Then Mathias set down the trowel and looked up at him.

"Grandpa Maury, I'm done!" he declared.

"You did a fine job," Maurice praised. "Now let's plant some herbs, shall we?"

Belle smiled, pleased that they were getting along so well, then she said, "Would you like to stay and help your grandpa, Mathias, while I go to work at the library? You can bring him by after storytime around twelve thirty, Father."

"I'd like that, Mama," her son replied.

"Yes, let him stay, Belle. I can see he's going to be a great help around here, since half the kids these days don't know a violet from a tulip," her father said.

"I'll leave you two alone then, and I'll see you later," she said, and left the two happily puttering around in the back room of the shop, discussing this and that plant and the best way to care for it.

Page~*~*~*~*~Break

Grandfather and grandson hit it off so well that when Mathias ran into the library that afternoon, just after Belle had finished her afternoon storytime, he almost stammered from excitement when he went to tell her that, "Mama, guess what? Grandpa Maury says that I can come by on Tuesdays and help him with all the plants and flowers 'cause that's when he gets deliveries. I can, can't I?"

"Yes, you may," Belle said, gently correcting his grammar. Rumple and she had decided not to send the boy to school yet, because of his health problems and also because he was still so shy and scared around strangers. He would need time to adjust, and both parents thought it best if Belle homeschooled him for several months, until he became accustomed to the way things were done in Storybrooke and had more therapy with Dr. Hopper. "I'm glad you like being with your grandpa, Mathias. I think . . . I think he always wanted a little boy."

"Why didn't he have one?"

"Well, you see, my mama died when I was small, she was very sick, and it made your grandpa so sad that he never remarried," Belle explained.

"Then I don't have a grandma?"

"No, sweetie. Because your papa's parents are both dead so . . ."

"Oh. That's too bad," the little boy sighed.

"But there's always Granny Lucas," Belle told him. "She'd be happy to call you her grandson."

"But Mama, Felix is there," Mathias said with a shudder. He unconsciously rubbed his backside, then yelped because he had aggravated his still-healing welts.

"Are you okay?" Belle asked, alarmed.

"M'fine," her son hastened to assure her. He didn't want her to think he was a baby, and it was his own fault.

Belle frowned, then decided to ask Rumple to put on some more salve when he came by for lunch, as he usually did nowadays. Then she said, "Sweetie, you don't have to worry about Felix anymore. Your papa went and talked to him and he won't ever hurt you again. Or even come by you. And Granny knows that, and she'll make sure he stays away."

That made the little boy feel a lot better, though he still wished he had a grandma and a grandpa. Then he shrugged and thought one grandparent was better than none at all, especially one who liked growing things the way Maurice did.

Rumple appeared not too long after and Mathias chattered happily to him about helping Grandpa Maury while Belle finished cleaning up the children's section. "Okay, son, you can tell me more over lunch," Gold said, relieved that Maurice seemed to accept the boy and not hold who his father was against him. "While your mama's straightening up over there, let me put some more silvadeen on you."

"Now?" the child sighed, somewhat dismayed. "Thought I only needed some at night."

"It won't hurt for me to give you an extra application," Rumple persuaded. "Come on," he gently steered the boy towards the restrooms in the corner.

"Papa, m'fine!"

"I'll be the judge of that, young man," Gold said briskly.

Mathias huffed, but came along obediently.

Rumple carefully examined the child before applying the cream which he'd summoned, noting the lacerations were healing well, though one or two seemed a little irritated. Those he gently held a wet towel to for a few moments before using the silvadeen.

"Ahh!" the little boy yelped. "Papa, that's cold!" He wriggled in protest, bent over the counter.

"I know, relax. It's just for a minute, because you've irritated them with your rubbing. Be still."

"It's cold!" he grumbled softly, but stopped moving.

After Rumple put the cream on, Mathias admitted he felt better, then accompanied the older man back into the library, where they waited for Belle before going over to Granny's for lunch.

Granny herself served them this time, and while Gold and Belle had their usual hamburgers, Mathias had a grilled cheese with bacon and homemade potato chips, managing to eat most of it before pushing his plate away and saying he was full.

He was glad when Granny gave him a small piece of key lime pie to take home, because he was afraid that if he stayed there any longer, sooner or later he'd see Felix, who he knew was somewhere around the diner.

Afterwards, Belle went back to the library, and Rumple took his son back to his shop, where he put the piece of pie away and told the child he could use help unpacking some boxes down in the basement before he reopened.

Mathias happily helped him, finding all sorts of interesting things in there, and after placing them gently on the shelves, wandered over to Rumple's old spinning wheel and said, "Papa, can you spin straw into gold on this?"

"I can. Would you like to see?" Rumple offered.

"Yes!" Mathias was practically jumping up and down.

Rumple sat down and summoned some straw and then showed Mathias how to pump the wheel and twist the straw and then magic arced from his hands and the straw was suddenly transmuted to golden thread, spinning around and around the bobbin.

"Cool! Do it again!"

Rumple did, spinning most of a bobbin before he stopped and said, "All right, that's enough. We don't really need any more gold right now."

Mathias nodded, sad to see the magic come to an end. "Papa? Can you teach me how to spin?"

"Yes, if you like," Rumple said, pleased. "Of course, you can't spin straw into gold, but you can spin wool, like any spinner." He summoned a basket full of undyed wool and showed his son how to place it and to spin it. "Okay. Now you come here and try."

Mathias came and sat down in front of his papa, and Rumple guided him, showing him how to place the wool upon the wheel and how to pump the treadle and keep the tension going. Soon a rather lumpy strand of yarn came out onto the bobbin.

"There! You did a great job," Rumple praised.

"But Papa . . . it's crooked," the child said, frowning.

"Son, everybody's yarn is crooked the first time," the master spinner laughed. "Including mine."

"Can I try it again?"

"Certainly," once again he helped the child, and this time the yarn was less lumpy than before. "Better. See, the more you practice, the better you'll get." He helped his son a third time, and by the fifth repetition Mathias said he wanted to do it himself, so Rumple let him spin while he dusted and reopened the shop.

The pawnbroker looked over at the boy from time to time, noting the intense concentration on his son's face, and the way he chewed his lip a little as he carefully spun the wool. He had taught Bae how to spin when he was a little older than Mathias, but Bae didn't have the patience to practice for hours, and would soon grow tired and be off playing outside. Mathias, however, showed no signs of growing tired, and spun happily for nearly an entire hour, only stopping when Rumple told him he'd spun enough for today and to go wash his hands.

"We'll take this home to show your mama," he said to his son. "You did very well for your first time."

Mathias examined the thread critically. "It's crooked."

"Hey. It's better than a lot of apprentices I've taught, and you can't be perfect. Next time you'll be better." He ruffled his son's hair, thinking how funny it was that with all the modern toys and games the boy had been given, it was his old spinning wheel that seemed to hold the child's interest the most.

He stuck the bobbin in his pocket and then had his son get a drink from the fridge in the back room and eat his pie as a snack before helping Rumple rearrange some items inside his glass cabinet and tag some new ones, teaching the boy his numbers while he did so.

Page~*~*~*~*~Break

A month later:

Every Tuesday, Mathias went to Game of Thorns and helped Grandpa Maury with his flowers and plants. Maurice discovered that the former Lost Boy had no aversion to doing any sort of chore he asked, from sweeping up spilled dirt to mixing compost to watering all the plants or feeding them with some special food Mathias had suggested he try, which seemed to make all the plants and flowers bloom vibrantly.

Maurice was delighted to have found another gardener, and Mathias seemed to know instinctively what each plant seemed to need to make it grow well, whether it was a different position in the shop, to less sunlight, or extra food. He was also very good with herbs, and knew several different preparations that could help with different ailments.

"He's like a walking pharmacology," he told Belle one afternoon when she came by to pick him up.

"He's very bright," she agreed. "He can read now at a third grade level, once he grasped the way you formed letters on the page it was like a light went on in his head and now he reads everything. He read the paper to Rumple yesterday and I've given him a new word to learn and use in a sentence everyday."

Maurice laughed. "Looks like you've got another bookworm on your hands, Belle."

Belle beamed proudly. For her son had a prodigious memory, one that retained knowledge like a sponge retained water, and he learned things at an astonishing rate. He could write several sentences now and comprehend mostly everything he read, and if he didn't know a word, he looked it up in Belle's dictionary or online.

In addition to his schoolwork, he also accompanied Rumple to his shop on Wednesdays, and helped his papa organize his collection of antiques and collectibles, and Rumple often told him stories about each piece, which Mathias started to write down in a small notebook, so he could share them with Henry and Pinocchio. He also practiced his spinning there, and soon could spin a very good thread, and Rumple was teaching him to spin mohair.

He seemed to be adjusting well, and yet there were times he still had nightmares about Neverland, and woke up with the old terror strangling him and had to take puffs on his inhaler. It was on those nights that he ended up going and cleaning the house, as if the monotonous routine were a kind of safe mechanism for him.

Twice Belle and Rumple caught him cleaning, and asked why he was doing it, but the child just shrugged and said he felt like it, not wanting to admit he was still having nightmares. It was Archie who finally teased it out of him during his therapy session, and soon after was met by a concerned Rumple, who asked if he'd found out the mysterious reason behind Mathias' cleaning sprees.

"He's a little OCD, Rumple. And cleaning is a habit with him," Archie said, trying to help without disclosing the real reason Mathias had told him and breaking his confidentiality. "So sometimes he just . . . needs to clean something. It makes him feel better."

"I don't understand. He was forced to clean as a slave on Neverland, so how can it make him feel better?" Rumple asked, puzzled.

"Well, it's been a routine for him for who knows how long," Archie explained. "And you know, habits are comforting, sometimes. So . . . maybe you could have him clean on certain days?"

"Yes, I suppose that can't hurt, only I don't want him thinking he's a servant."

"Oh, I doubt he does think that . . . or if he does, it's another habit of his. Have you noticed any difference in his attitude recently?"

"Yes. He seems much less shy and has slowly started to interact more with other children, like Henry and Marco's two boys, Pinocchio and Perry."

"Good. And how's he been sleeping?"

"Okay. I think," Gold said. "Hmm . . . maybe I ought to monitor that. Make sure he isn't having any more nightmares."

"That would be good," Archie said, hoping that would clue Gold into Mathias' problem.

Gold set a silent ward that would alert him if Mathias woke during the night and seemed distressed, placing it just inside the boy's room.

Page~*~*~*~*~Break

As he began to grow closer to Maurice, Mathias noticed something that bothered him. He noticed that his grandfather didn't seem to really speak to his papa all that much, only seeming to be concerned about Belle and Mathias. When Belle talked about her upcoming wedding, all Maurice said was, "I hope he's paying for all of it, considering."

Belle frowned and said, "Of course, Father. All you need to do is to come and give me away and stay for the reception afterwards at the town hall."

"I can do it," Maurice sighed, but he seemed grudging about it.

That got Mathias to thinking, and it was then that the little boy came to the conclusion that there was something not right between his papa and Grandpa Maury. After Belle had left, when they were repotting some petunias and begonias, Mathias finally got up enough courage to ask, "Grandpa Maury?"

"What is it, Matty?" Maurice asked, calling the boy by a nickname only he used.

"Uh . . . I was wondering . . . why don't you like my papa?"

The question shocked the older man, who had never realized that his indifference to Gold would be noted by the child, until he realized that the boy was as precocious as they came, and nothing missed those quiet brown eyes. "Well . . . you see . . . it's rather complicated. When I first knw your papa, he was under a curse, do you know about that?"

"He told me. He was cursed to be the Dark One. But because he helped Tiger Lily, his curse got broken," Mathias said.

"Right, well, before that, he made a deal with me to save my kingdom, but his price was your mama as his chatelaine. And that made me . . . very angry because I thought he was an evil beast and would hurt her," Maurice admitted. "Turned out I was wrong, but I never wanted to see it, even though your mama insisted he was a good man and loved her."

"Papa does love her," Mathias reassured him. "He loves her to the moon and back, just like he loves me."

Maurice coughed. "Yes, I know. Now I know. Your papa and I have had our differences, Matty. And some of them . . . were my fault . . . and some were his . . . but I . . . told your mama I'd let bygones be bygones since she was going to marry Mr. Gold. It just takes a little more time than I thought."

Mathias nodded. "Sort of like it takes me time to forget about what Felix did to me."

"Uh . . . in a way," Maurice said, thinking that the child was entirely too damn perceptive for seven years old.

"Maybe you'll like him better if I tell you all the nice things he's done for me and Mama," Mathias said.

"Uh . . . if you like," Maurice said, thinking that was the last thing he'd expected to be discussing.

Mathias began telling him all the things Rumple had done lately, and gradually Maurice started to see Rumple not as the beast he had always thought, but as a loving and dedicated fiancée and father. Mathias, like Belle, adored Rumple, and it showed in the way he talked about the man. Maurice began to consider that maybe he might be willing to give Rumple a chance . . . when suddenly the door to Game of Thorns opened and Gold entered.

"Mr. French? Mathias?"

At familiar voice, Mathias dropped his trowel on the counter and raced from the back room. "Papa! Papa!"

"How's my boy?" Gold asked, as the little boy ran to hug him.

"Papa, guess what I did today?" Mathias said. "I helped Grandpa Maury put in a whole row of begonias and we put water lilies in the koi pond and I got to feed the fish and . . ."

" . . . and it looks like you forgot to wash your hands because all of a sudden I'm covered in dirt," Rumple said, somewhat dismayed, as he looked down at himself and found faint streaks of dirt on his good Dolce and Gabbana suit.

"Uh oh," Mathias groaned, as he now realized his hands were streaked with potting soil. "I'm sorry, Papa." He hung his head and pulled away from his father, looking utterly devastated.

Maurice had come out of the back room, and stood silently beside the door, thinking, if that . . .landlord dares to yell at my grandson for an accident, I'm going to give him a piece of my mind all right . . .

"Mathias, it's fine," Rumple said, kneeling and gently putting a hand under the boy's chin. "It's only a bit of dirt. Look, it comes right off," and he brushed a hand down his suit, and the dirt was suddenly vanished, leaving small twinkling motes of purple magic behind. "There's nothing to be upset about."

The little boy perked up at that, relieved that his papa wasn't angry, then he said, "I'm going to wash my hands now!" and bolted for the little bathroom off the back of the shop.

Rumple rose to his feet, and saw Maurice standing there. He nodded cordially at the other man and said, "I hope I wasn't interrupting anything, Mr. French?"

"No, we were just . . . err . . . repotting some perennials," Maurice said, thinking that he had certainly misjudged the other man. He had expected Gold to get angry at the boy's mishap, not just shrug it off.

"Good. I came today instead of Belle because Emma and Snow have taken her for her dress fitting," Gold told him.

Maurice nodded, then said awkwardly, "You know, Gold . . . I think . . . I might have . . . misjudged you . . ."

"In what way?" asked the pawnbroker.

"I always thought you were using my daughter . . . but now I see that I was wrong . . . You truly do love her . . . and you love that boy in there."

"Yes. They're my family, and there is nothing more important to me. Nothing."

"I see that now. And I . . . was wrong to . . . steal that cup from you . . .I never should have let the mayor manipulate me . . . but it was easy to blame you for my own stupidity in falling behind on my payments and . . . well . . ."

"We've all done things we regret, especially when we were cursed," Rumple began. "Me included. I . . . apologize for my temper . . . I wasn't thinking clearly when I . . . assaulted you . . or rather I was thinking only about hatred and revenge . . .something which I've put aside now."

"Yes, I can see that," Maurice said. "And I . . . forgive you . . . if you can forgive me also . . . Rumplestiltskin." He held out a hand.

"Deal," said the former Dark One, and they shook.

Mathias came out of the bathroom just then and saw. "Are you friends now, Papa?"

Rumple turned and looked at his son. "Yes, Mathias."

"Yes!" the little boy grinned and punched the air victoriously.

"Are you all ready to go home?" Rumple asked.

"Uh huh. But wait! I gotta get the flower for Mama!" Mathias cried, and rushed into the back room to pick up the pretty flowering tea rose he'd planted for her.

Maurice watched him scurry away, then said softly to Rumple, "That kid's something else. If I didn't know better, I'd say he planned this whole thing."

Rumple chuckled. "With Mathias, you never know."

Maurice nodded. "He's like his mama, so smart it's scary. And I thought you said he was shy, Rumple."

"Only if he doesn't know you well. Otherwise he'll talk your ear off, like you didn't know that, Moe," Gold replied, smirking.

Mathias came out of the back room, cradling the rose bush in his arms. "Papa, see the rose bush I planted for Mama?"

Rumple smiled down at him, saying, "You did an excellent job, son. Now let me take it before you accidentally drop it." He took the champagne blush tea rose from his son and held it in one arm. "Now, we'd best be going, lad. I need to start supper before your mama gets home. What do you say to your grandfather?"

Mathias turned and hugged Maurice. "Thanks, Grandpa Maury, for letting me work here and I'll see you next Tuesday!"

"I'll be waiting, scamp. So don't be late," his grandfather said, and hugged the boy goodbye.

"I won't! Bye!" Mathias called, then he grabbed Rumple by the hand and pulled him out the shop door. "C'mon, Papa! Hurry, I wanna get home before Mama does so I can put her present on the windowsill."

"Mathias Gold, slow down before you give yourself an asthma attack," Gold scolded mildly, shaking his head and smiling at his irrepressible son, who had done something he'd once thought impossible—reconcile him and Maurice French.

"Papa, m'fine!" panted the boy, waving his inhaler. "I took some before I left Grandpa Maury's."

Rumple rolled his eyes in resignation. "You'd tell me you were fine if you were lying bleeding to death in the street."

"No, I wouldn't," his son disagreed. "Cause dead people can't talk."

"Now don't you get smart with me, boy," Gold mock-growled.

Mathias smirked. "Okay, Papa. But it's a fact."

"Never mind your facts, you little imp. I swear, any more of your mouth and you'll be getting some Stiltskin Tickle Torture when we get home."

Mathias released Rumple's hand, saying saucily, "Uh, Papa? You'd have to catch me first." Then he ran down the sidewalk, giggling.

"Why, you sassy brat!" his papa muttered, then transported the rose bush home and sprinted after his son, finally catching up to the boy after a half a block and picking him up and tossing him over his shoulder.

Mathias was already giggling before Rumple transported them home and started tickling him, making the boy scream with laughter.

"You going to behave?"

"Uh huh. I promise! Papa . . . please . . ." the little boy was laughing hysterically in his father's lap, trying to escape Rumple's devilishly quick fingers.

"All right, guess you've learned your lesson, huh?" he said, then gave Mathias a quick hug before allowing him to scramble off his lap and put the rose bush on the windowsill, where Belle would be sure to spot it when she came home.

Rumple watched him, smiling to himself and thinking that he'd made the best decision ever when he had chosen to adopt the little boy, for Mathias had changed his life in ways he'd never imagined, and wouldn't Belle be surprised that he and Maurice had finally buried the hatchet?