21
Rest In Peace
A/N: Kleenex alert for this chapter!
"Belle, may I come in? I need to talk to Gold," Regina stated.
"Yes, of course," Belle stepped back to let the former Evil Queen into the house, feeling like she'd just let an ax murderer cross her threshold. She was about to call out to Rumple that someone was here to see him when Regina barged past her and into the den. Incensed, she opened her mouth to remind the mayor that this wasn't her house and they weren't her subjects any longer, when Rumple looked up from where he was sitting in his recliner with Mathias.
"Regina. What a . . . pleasant surprise," he said dryly. "Did you need something?"
Regina rolled her eyes. "Obviously, or I wouldn't be here."
"Really, dearie? And here I thought you dropped in for some dessert," he drawled, a faint smirk quirking a corner of his mouth.
"Gold, I need to talk to you—alone—" the mayor snapped.
"Anything you need to say, Regina, you can say in front of my family," Gold said bluntly.
"Including your son?"
"As long as it doesn't involve torture, rape, murder, and filthy language, we're good. I know, considering it's you, it might be hard to tailor it down, but you'll manage, I'm sure."
Regina scowled. "And who's this?" She gestured to Glenna. "Your new housekeeper?"
"Housekeeper? That's my grandma!" Mathias objected.
"Your what?" Regina's mouth fell open.
"You heard the lad, dearie. Or is there something wrong with your ears?" Glenna queried, standing up. "My name is Glenna, otherwise known as Glinda the Good Witch of the North."
"Good Witch of—you're from Oz?"
"I am."
"What are you doing in Storybrooke?"
"Let us say . . . I came here to renew some old family ties." Glenna said shortly. "And you are?"
"Regina Mills, Mayor of Storybrooke," said Regina crisply.
"Also known as the Evil Queen," Mathias put in.
Regina craned her head around and said coldly, "Someone needs to learn to speak when he's spoken to. Rumple, send him to bed or something while the grown-ups are talking."
"Regina, don't forget, you're in my house. And I'll say who goes anywhere in it," Rumple returned sharply, one arm protectively about his son. Fearchara pressed against his legs, her ears laid back, giving a soft bark of warning.
Regina looked over at Gold, his son, and the dog in disgust. "My God, Gold, what is this Father Knows Best? Leave It To Beaver? You used to be a cold hard businessman, and now you've got snot dripping all over you."
"Better that than blood," Gold snapped.
Mathias glared at her, and Fearchara growled low in her throat, not liking this new visitor at all.
"Why are you here, mayor Mills?" queried Belle, coming back into the room.
"I'm here to discuss something of great importance," Regina declared haughtily.
"You're here to tell us something we already know, dearie. That Elspira, the Wicked Witch of the West, is coming here," Glenna interjected.
"What are you, his echo?" Regina demanded coldly.
Glenna gave her an icy smile. "I'm his mother, Mayor Mills."
Regina nearly tripped over her Gucci heels and fell on the floor. "You're what? But he . . . you . . ." she sputtered incoherently.
"There was a bit of a misunderstanding between me and my late husband, which resulted in my being separated from Rumple," Glenna said smoothly. "But that's not the case anymore. Like I said, I'm here both for personal reasons and to stop Elspira from taking over Storybrooke."
"What makes you think she's going to do that?" Regina asked.
Glenna laughed. "Oh, let's not play stupid, Regina. We both know Elspira has always longed to conquer other realms, and she has long set her sights on this one . . . home of her archenemy Dorothy Gale. She'd conquer it to ease the sting of her humiliation at the hands of a little twelve-year-old girl alone . . . but I think there's another reason why she's coming here. Something only you know, am I right?"
Regina looked hard at the other witch. "You . . . what are you, some kind of mind reader?"
"Better, dearie. I'm a Seer," Glenna stated, her green eyes sparkling.
"Then . . . you already know what I'm about to tell you," Regina refuted.
"Well, it's always good to hear things from the horse's mouth, dearie," Glenna gestured.
"Have a seat, Regina, and say what you've come to say," Gold said, and gestured to the couch.
Regina went and sat down on it, then she coughed and said, "A long time ago, back in the Enchanted Forest, I spoke with the Wicked Witch of the West through one of my mirrors. We . . . made an arrangement that I would get her something she wanted in exchange for her giving me something I needed to defeat Snow White and remove her from the line of succession."
"So you made a deal with her. What for?" Rumple queried.
"She wanted the ruby slippers . . . which she said were hers by right, as they belonged to her sister, the same one that was killed by Dorothy Gale, but she couldn't get them, because Glinda had them locked up in her tower and she couldn't set foot there."
"Actually, dearie, that was a lie. The ruby slippers never belonged to her or anyone in her family, they were always mine, I had found them in the ruins of my tower in Munchkinland. Elspira knew her sister had stolen them from me. What she didn't know is that the slippers cursed anyone trying to use them for evil, and that was why Elsingra died. But do go on."
Regina continued. "Well, as I was saying, I agreed to get her the slippers . . . if she would give me a poison brooch she had. So I called on Jefferson to go and get them from Oz, since he could make portals and walk the realms."
"So that was the thief who stole them from me and left a golden acorn in their place," Glenna mused.
"I don't know anything about an acorn, Glinda. But Jeff brought me the slippers and I was going to give them to Elspira on the next dark moon of the month, because then she could mirror walk and receive them directly from me . . . but then I realized something. Those slippers had the power to travel dimensions. Even, perhaps to a land without magic. And I thought of you, Rumple, so desperate to find your son."
"So you reneged on your deal with Elspira," Rumple stated.
"Let's say . . . I found a better way to get what I wanted . . . and I didn't have to wait till the dark of the moon to do so," Regina purred. "So I struck a deal with you instead, Rumple, and gave you the slippers for a potion recipe. Which, if I remember correctly, failed, because Snow White didn't die."
"Not so, Regina. My recipe worked . . . it's just that Charming had an antidote," Rumple said smoothly. Of course, he didn't tell Regina that said antidote had been gotten from him.
"She didn't die, and that was what was supposed to happen," the Evil Queen snarled. "So you made out like a bandit, Rumple."
"Did I? I had slippers that I couldn't use," Rumple snorted.
"Why couldn't you use them? Afraid to tarnish your image?"
"Hardly. I couldn't use them, dearie, because they don't work for magicians, or any who wield magic. They only work for certain people."
"How was I supposed to know that?"
"Well, I ought to have known better. Caveat emptor. But as it turned out, it was fortunate coincidence I kept them. Because now the true owner can use them."
"Who's the true owner?" Regina asked.
Rumple gestured to Mathias. "My son."
"Gold, what are you, cracked? He's a Lost Boy. How can he be the slippers true owner?"
"Because he's also a Gale, Regina. Like his grandmother Dorothy. And he's inherited not only her shoes, but her magic resistance as well."
Regina stared hard at Mathias. "He's magic resistant?"
"That's what I said. And therefore he's also the only one the slippers will work for."
"Where . . . where are the slippers now?"
"Right here," Mathias replied, and wriggled a foot pointedly.
"Those are basketball shoes," Regina commented.
"Well, I'm not gonna wear sparkly shoes with bows on 'em, mayor," Mathias said, grimacing. "I'm not a girl!"
Regina frowned and peered again at his shoes. "They . . . they have an Oz logo on them . . . in sparkly gold paint. Those are the ruby slippers?"
"Yup. But they changed for me into these wicked cool shoes," Mathias told her.
"Give them to me," Regina said then.
"No way!" Mathias drew back against Rumple, tucking his feet behind his father's legs.
"Regina, I just told you, you can't use them, so why would you want them?" demanded Rumple.
"Because I can give them to her, Gold," she said impatiently.
"That won't work, dearie," Glenna put in. "Elspira is already angry at you for breaking your deal with her . . . she'll not forgive and forget now. You could give her a dozen ruby slippers and it won't change a thing. Because she's got a bigger prize in mind now . . . and she never forgets an insult done to her."
"But . . . if I give her back the slippers, she'll have no reason to invade Storybrooke!"
Glenna sighed. "Listen to me, queenie. Elspira doesn't care about the slippers any longer. She wants two things-revenge and a new power base. She can get both here. So she's coming here specifically to have her revenge upon you, for doublecrossing her, and Dorothy Gale for defeating her, and also to establish a foothold here, and try and take over this realm like she tried with Oz."
"How?"
"Oh, she has an army, Regina."
"Of what? Flying monkeys?" the other laughed.
"Oh, not just them. She has others at her command, and some a lot more vicious than they are," Glenna said. "So . . . if I were you, Mayor Mills, I'd start planning a defensive. Because Elspira plays for keeps. And if she can't strike at you one way, she'll find another. So watch your son, mayor. Because Elspira hates children . . . especially precocious ones who are related to those who defeated her . . . or doublecrossed her."
"If she tries anything with my son, I'll gut her like a hooked fish!" Regina spat.
"Then we're in agreement about something," Gold said frostily. "But you know, Regina, you have only yourself to blame for this feud . . . because I thought I taught you to keep any deal you make . . . especially with witches."
"Who asked you, Gold?" the mayor spat, flushing slightly. "So, are you going to help or are you going to hide out here in your little house, Pa Ingalls?" she sneered.
"Oh, I'll help. Because anyone who threatens Henry threatens my grandson . . . and Storybrooke is my home too. But this war was brought to my doorstep because of you, Regina. And don't think I'm going to forget that, dearie."
"You're saying I'm going to owe you. What else is new?"
"No, I'm saying you better be prepared to pay a high price for your duplicity, Regina Mills," he said sharply.
"Is that some kind of threat?"
"It's a fact, dearie. Elspira's no novice in the dark arts, Regina. I'd wager she's been planning this for a long time . . . and she'll kill whoever gets in her way," Rumple warned. "Starting with you."
Regina shrugged. "That'll be the day! Miss Greenwretch falls apart when it rains! You think I'm going to have any trouble with her?"
"I think your overconfidence will be your undoing," Glenna predicted.
Regina spun on her. "When I want a prediction, Cassandra, I'll ask for it. What will you be doing in the meantime? Fluttering about with your magic wand?"
Glenna just looked at her. "A bit more than that, dearie. Remember, I'm the one who knows how to fight her."
"I'll get you a bucket, sister," Regina snorted.
"Water may be her big weakness, but she'll be prepared for that, I'm sure. But there are a few others we can exploit . . . when the time is right."
"Okay. That's why I came here. To make sure we're all on the same page," Regina declared, then she rose to her feet. "Good evening, Gold." She looked at Belle. "Don't bother getting up. I can see myself out."
"I wasn't going to," Belle said coldly.
Then Regina sailed out through the door, her heels clicking on the tile.
"Don't forget your broomstick, dearie!" Glenna called after her, and the door slammed shut.
Mathias burst out laughing. So did Rumple and Belle.
"Grandma, that was awesome!"
"Why, thank you, sweetie," Glenna giggled, and winked at him.
Fearchara barked in agreement.
Page~*~*~*~*~Break
The next day, after doing his lessons and helping Glenna make a chicken noodle casserole for lunch, Mathias decided to watch a program called Ghost Hunters. He thought it would be cool to see some real live ghosts, and the program was pretty interesting, but after it was over, it raised some unpleasant ghosts of its own, for it caused Mathias to remember certain aspects of Neverland that he wished he could forget.
All the Lost Boys knew, even if it was in the most general of terms, that Peter sometimes chose a few who were . . . unnecessary to him and sacrificed them on Skull Rock. Mathias had known several of those who had been chosen, and had tried, without success to help a few, but they had refused to listen to him, instead buying into Pan's speech about "helping" their brothers and "saving" Neverland. Mathias had known, after the first few never returned, that something terrible must have happened to them. Especially because Peter insisted that they had met with "unfortunate accidents" and so on. Soon the words "midnight stroll" or "visiting the rock" became synonymous with "sacrifice" and Mathias' blood ran cold every time he heard one of the others joking about it . . . or who had died.
He knew that many of the Lost Boys had done their best to forget that ugly truth, but he never could, mostly because he had always been afraid one day he'd be next. And sometimes . . . sometimes after one of them had gone . . . a part of him thanked the fates for letting him live a little longer, and part of him felt guilty for thinking like that.
Now he still felt guilty, thinking about all those boys, and there had been many over the years he'd been in Neverland, that would never go home, that were unquiet ghosts upon an island where only dryads, mermaids, and magical creatures roamed. Peter was gone, and Mathias knew Tiger Lily and her sisters had freed the shadows in the Dark Hollow, but he was sure no one had thought about the sacrifices and how their ghosts probably remained still upon Skull Rock, tied to the place where they had died.
The dryads wouldn't set foot there, and only Peter and the chosen had gone there regularly, so no one would even think about those poor lost children, whose unquiet shades haunted the place.
No one except the boy once called Mouse, who recalled their faces and their names in his dreams at night.
It had been the least he could do, to remember who they were, and what they had gone through . . . only now he wished he could forget . . . but found he couldn't.
His most recent nightmare focused upon a memory he had of one of the first sacrifices, a skinny boy with glasses and wide eyes called Billy. Billy had been Mathias' friend from the orphanage, because like him he was handicapped because of poor eyesight the way Mathias was with his asthma. Billy had tried to be one of the Lost Boys, tried to keep up with them in their rough games, but failed because if his glasses ever fell off he was blind as a bat. A liability. And therefore . . . expendable.
Mathias had dreamed about Billy many times, along with the others, after gleaning what had happened to them by overhearing conversations between Peter, Felix, and the others, where Pan bragged about how he had the chosen ones dig the graves in the Toy Box, where they buried their remains and used their favorite toys to mark the graves, like slingshots on sticks, teddy bears, balls, tops, ect . . .
Last night he dreamed again of Billy, a ghostly child who played with him, but when Mathias offered to bring him home, the ghost boy shook his head, and said, "We can't leave, Mouse. We need to go back . . . we're stuck here, on the rock, at the inbetween place, we can't go to heaven, can't go anywhere, we're bound here, to this spot, our souls imprisoned . . ."
Mathias stared around at the other souls of the children, all drifting listlessly among the toy markers, unable to play, the air filled with sniffling and weeping.
"Help us, Mouse. Help us."
"How? How can I help you?" he'd cried.
"You can't . . . unless you can destroy the table . . . the altar where we breathed our last . . ."
"How? How can I destroy it?"
"I don't know . . . destroy the table . . . destroy it . . . only then can we be free . . . remember us . . . don't forget . . . help us . . ."
He shook his head abruptly, sending the awful dream back to sleep.
He flipped through some more channels, thinking to watch some cartoons, but couldn't find anything to hold his interest, and he turned the TV off and said to his dog, "Fearchara, let's go outside. We can play stagecoach or something." That was his new favorite game, after watching the movie of the same name with John Wayne one night with Rumple. Rumple had made him a harness for Fearchara that Mathias could attach to his Radio Flyer wagon and have the dog pull him in it around the yard. The Samoyed-mix proved equally happy to do that as she did fetch a ball or other tricks.
But when the little boy and the dog went downstairs, Belle and Glenna were talking in the kitchen over cups of tea, and Mathias paused just outside the door, listening to Belle talk about how she had used something called the Booke of Dreams to help Rumple on Neverland. It was how they had defeated Peter, by trapping his shadow and his consciousness in the dreamscape and his body in Pandora's Box.
"I know that's really not how it was meant to be used, but . . ." Belle spread her hands.
"Dearie, any magical object usually has more than one thing it can be used for. The Booke of Dreams might have been intended for lovers forced to part, but that doesna mean it cannot be used for other things, as you proved with Pan. Besides, the one who has the Booke is mistress or master of the dream he or she writes down, and can bend the dreamscape to suit his or her wishes."
"You're right. And I'm thinking maybe I should put the Booke away soon, since it's not really good policy to leave it out on my night table any longer," Belle mused.
"That would be wise, lassie," Glenna approved. "You wouldn't want something like that to fall into the wrong hands."
"I'll give it to Rumple tomorrow and he can put it away somewhere safe," Belle decided.
Just then Mathias entered the kitchen with Fearchara. "Hi!" he greeted the two women. "Fearchara and I are gonna play outside." He stopped to fill his pocket with treats for her before he raced outside, the cream-colored dog at his heels.
He went and got the Radio Flyer with its harness from the shed and started to hitch up Fearchara to it when he paused, as an idea had suddenly occurred to him.
What if he could use the Booke of Dreams somehow to help those Lost Boys' spirits trapped on Skull Rock?
He could travel there in dreams using the book, since Tiger Lily had said that way was still open to children who believed . . . and you didn't have to be a magician to use it.
And then maybe . . . just maybe he could use the book to lay the ghosts of all the little boys to rest forever . . . and then they would stop coming into his dreams at night and haunting him.
He felt suddenly cold and knelt and hugged Fearchara tightly. His dog whined and licked him. "I don't wanna go back there," he told her. "Not even in dreams. But . . . no one else even remembers who they are . . . or cares . . . except me. And I promised . . . to always remember . . .until it was done . . ." He stroked the dog's head and sighed. "I thought it was over when Papa helped Tiger Lily and we all came here. But it's not. Not for them. It'll never be over . . . until somebody goes back and sets them free . . . and I have to do it . . . because it's my fault . . . I couldn't save them then . . . but maybe now I can."
He buried his face in Fearchara's fur, whispering, "Sure wish you could come with me, girl." Then he recalled something else. "Hey, maybe you can. Dogs dream too . . . and Grandma said the one who has the book can make anything happen in the dreamscape . . ."
He fed his dog a jerky treat and then decided he could play stagecoach after all, and hitched Fearchara to his red wagon. As they raced around, Mathias wondered how he could get the book from Belle's room, then recalled she had said where it was . . . and he had to do it tonight, before his papa took it and hid it somewhere.
Tonight I'll lay all their ghosts to rest, he thought as Fearchara dragged him about the yard. And then maybe he could finally sleep without nightmares.
Page~*~*~*~*~Break
Mathias waited until his parents had gone back downstairs after tucking him into bed before he woke himself out of the half-doze he'd been in and went to get the book. He hesitated before entering the bedroom, and paused before he picked the book up off the night stand, finding it exactly where Belle had said it would be. His hands gripped the finely tooled leather book and he almost dropped it when he thought about what he was going to do.
Put it back. Put it back. You don't want to do this. You don't want to go there.
He bit his lip hard. He didn't want to go there, not at all. Skull Rock was an evil place, full of blood and death and horror. He shut his eyes, recalling all the faces of the boys who had gone there, never to return.
Their voices cried out to him from the shadows, moaning and sobbing.
I have to do this. I have to. I'm the only one who cares.
He clutched the book to his chest, then scurried out of the room, shutting the door behind him, quiet as the mouse he'd been named for.
Once back in his room, he opened the book to the first page.
Written in bold script were the words: The Booke of Dreams.
He took a pen from his desk and pressed it down to the page, making a slight ink blot.
Immediately words formed in graceful calligraphy. Think it. Write it. Dream it.
Mathias looked at Fearchara, curled next to him on the bed. "Okay, girl. I guess it's back to Neverland. Second star to the right and straight on till morning."
His dog whuffed at him.
"I know. I know I'm crazy. But . . . I have to do this. So they can rest in peace."
Then he picked up the pen and began to write, slowly and carefully, about Skull Rock and the boys who were sacrificed there and how he needed to go there and free them from the horror they had been trapped in. He wrote it all out, making sure he detailed how he could come and go, and Fearchara with him.
Once he had gotten it all down, he put the pen away, used his inhaler, then snuggled down into the covers and hugged Fearchara with one hand. He drifted off to sleep, unable to keep his eyes open . . . and then he was within the dreamscape . . .
Page~*~*~*~*~Break
Skull Rock, Neverland:
The wind blew high and shrill through the cavern and eyeholes of the place nicknamed Skull Rock, so called because of the shape of the rock that dominated the landscape, but also because of the skulls that were buried beneath the altar Peter had erected.
The porous rock, like black obsidian, reflected the cold soaring moon and absorbed the spilled blood that had run like flowing water through the grooves in the altar into the floor. The wind swirled through the open passageway into the cavern, stirring the dust upon the floor, echoing through the empty spaces, howling mournfully.
In the slanted fall of moonlight circled slender half-transparent phantoms, about the dark basalt altar and throughout the cavern, floating upon the wind, their shrill voices whispering their woeful tale of betrayal and loss.
Into this swirling cauldron of death and loss and despair came a small figure, with a large dog beside him, one hand holding out a lantern. He held the lantern high, illuminating his face, a small boy with large brown eyes and a shock of brown hair, wearing red shoes.
"Billy? Billy, where are you?"
The other boys looked up and whispered, "Why are you here? Go home, Mouse! Go home!"
Their spirits floated about, holding out their hands and looking at him, silent tears running down their faces. "We want to go home! Let us go home! Please!"
"Okay! I will . . . just . . . I need to talk to Billy," Mathias cried, as the children all pressed up against him, moaning and sobbing, most with gaping wounds in their chests as Peter had pulled their hearts out and crushed them, though some also had slit throats from Pan's dagger.
"Help us! Help us!"
Fearchara snarled, barking sharply, and some of the spirit boys drew away.
Suddenly the wind kicked up and in a swirl of blue light, another boy appeared, with round glasses atop his nose and a gaping hole where his heart had been.
"Billy."
"Hey, Mouse. Whatcha want?"
"It's Mathias now. My real name."
The other boy smiled. "Yeah. Have you come to help us?"
"Uh huh. How do I destroy it? The altar?"
"It must be cleansed. With fire, water, and salt. And the names of the lost recited. Do you remember, Mathias? Do you?"
Mathias nodded, feeling himself sway suddenly, his head whirling. He didn't know what was happening, as he hadn't written this into the dreamscape . . .
Page~*~*~*~*~Break
Belle had come up to check on Mathias before she went to bed, as usual, and found the child sprawled across his bed, one foot hanging off and Fearchara asleep beside him, whimpering and moaning.
"Nightmares again," she sighed, and shook his shoulder. "Mathias, wake up! Mathias! It's a dream, son. Wake up!"
But her voice had no effect on him, he remained deeply asleep, and even shaking him produced no result.
"Mathias!" Belle called, suddenly terrified, because the boy was unresponsive, and even stranger, Fearchara was sound asleep too, and the dog normally woke when one of them entered the bedroom.
"Rumple! Get over here!" she yelled. "There's something wrong with Mathias!"
Rumple appeared in the room in a flicker of purple smoke. "Yes, dearie. What's wrong?"
"He won't wake up!" Belle half-sobbed. "He's dreaming and he won't wake up. Him or Fearchara!"
"What?" Rumple bent over the still form of his son and the dog, counting pulsebeats and then he swore. "This is no natural sleep, Belle. They're . . . enchanted . . ."
"Enchanted? But Mathias is magic resistant! How is that possible?" she blurted. Then she saw a familiar object resting beneath the boy's head. "Oh my God! The Booke of Dreams!"
She grabbed the book and pulled it out from beneath the boy's head and flipped it open.
As they watched, the writing in the book was slowly disappearing as the dream played itself out.
"He's gone . . . gone back to Neverland . . . to Skull Rock!" Belle cried.
"To free the spirits of those Pan sacrificed . . . by destroying Pan's altar . . ." Rumple read rapidly. "Hell and damnation! He's too young for this . . . magic's price . . . magic's price will be too much for him . . ."
"Can you stop it, Rumple?"
"Maybe. Give me a pen, Belle. Hurry!"
Belle pressed the pen upon the nightstand into his hand.
Rumple took it and began to write, scribbling the words upon the paper, inbetween Mathias' larger sentences. No sooner had he done so then he crumpled to the floor, asleep as well, using his magic to put himself to sleep instantly.
Page~*~*~*~*~Break
Skull Rock:
"Get me a bucket, Billy," Mathias ordered, digging a container of salt out of his pocket. "I need something to carry water."
Billy drifted over to some other ghosts and whispered. Then they pointed to the Toy Box. "There! There! Over there!"
"Fearchara, fetch!" Mathias ordered, and the dog bounded over to a sandy grave and snatched the beach pail off of it and trotted back to Mathias with it.
"Thanks, girl. Now I need some water." He picked up the pail and went outside to where the waves crashed against the rocks, filling the pail with water.
As he toted it back inside, the air shimmered in front of him and a familiar figure in black crocodile leathers appeared in the cavern.
"Papa?" Mathias gasped.
"Mathias!" Rumple cried. "What on earth are you doing, son?"
"Freeing these little kids, Papa. They're trapped here . . . unless I destroy the altar," Mathias said, dragging the beach pail over to the black altar. "I have to . . . cleanse it with . . . fire . . . water . . . and salt . . . and speak their names . . . but I'm . . so tired . . ."
Rumple reached out a hand and took the pail from him. "That's because all magic comes with a price . . . and you're too young to pay it . . . or not all of it . . ."
"But Papa . . . I have to!" the child protested. "I'm the only one who can . . . because I remember . . . nobody else does . . .!" Tears fell down his cheeks.
Rumple set his hands on his son's shoulders. "Son . . . let me help you. Together we can cleanse the altar, and magic's price won't all fall upon you."
The spirits of the little boys all swirled and reached out to Rumple, plucking his vest and shirt, sobbing.
"Help us! Set us free!"
"Trapped . . .!"
"Lost. . . all lost . . .!"
"Free us!"
Rumple gazed about him, seeing more and more spirits materializing in the graveyard. "Hell! How many are there?"
"Many. All betrayed . . . every one of us . . ." Billy said mournfully. "Peter lied . . ."
"Lied!"
"Betrayed!"
"Now we're stuck here forever . . ."
"Stuck!"
"Unless you destroy the altar," Billy intoned.
"Destroy it!"
"Free us!"
The children's voices swelled and crackled around them, surging over Rumple and Mathias in a wave of wailing weeping noise. Over a hundred shades clamored to be freed.
"Quiet!" Rumple ordered, because he could barely think through the noise.
The howls and moaning ceased abruptly.
"All right. Now you wait over here. Line up, all of you. Come on," he urged, giving the spirit boys something to focus on while he approached the altar with the pail of seawater.
"Water—healer, renewer, breaker of all bonds, old and new! With this water I cleanse this altar! Let the blood of innocents be washed away," Rumple said sharply, and then he threw the pail of water over it.
The altar shimmered and turned green, running with rivulets of silvery moisture.
"Mathias, the salt!" Rumple commanded.
Mathias handed him the container.
Rumple took it and cupped a handful, saying, "Salt—born of earth, purifier, breaker of evil magic! With this salt I cleanse this altar! Let the bones of the sacrificed rest!" he threw three rapid handfuls of salt over the basalt table.
Sudden cracks appeared in the rock and the salt shimmered in the gaps.
The spirits of the boys gasped and whimpered.
"Papa! It's working!"
"Give me the lantern, son," Rumple ordered.
He took the lantern and spun it in a circle. "Fire—the spark of creation, light bringer, destroyer of shadows. May the shadow of sacrifice be undone! With this fire, I cleanse this altar!"
He whipped the lantern about two more times and then threw it onto the altar.
It shattered and fire leaped up in a swath, covering the rock, flames dancing merrily across its surface.
"Mathias! Speak their names! Quickly!"
"William Hart!" The child shouted, coming to stand before the burning table, Rumple's hands on his shoulders. "Thomas Smith, Derek O'Malley, John Brashares, Hal Andrews, Carl Cummings, Matthew Moran, Limpy, Two Teeth, Corkscrew . . ."
As he recited each name, the boy it named vanished, his spirit freed at last.
Mathias continued naming the names, somehow finding the strength to recall all of them, even those who had only use names.
As each one vanished, the air about the cavern grew a little brighter, a little less heavy with the weight of sorrow.
Finally, there was one spirit left, a little boy with a carrot top and two teeth missing, about five, the one child Peter had kidnapped that had been too young to last upon Neverland.
Mathias hesitated, trying to recall who he was.
"Hey! Hey! When can I go home?"
"In a minute," Mathias panted, he was feeling woozy again. "You're . . . you're Robert . . . right?"
"Uh huh. Bobby."
"Bobby . . . Bobby . . ." Mathias muttered. He couldn't remember! Then suddenly it came to him. "Robert Stanwyck!"
"That's me!" the tiny boy cried. Then he started to fade, and the last thing Rumple and Mathias saw was the child's gap-toothed grin.
"Go home, lad," Rumple whispered.
"Bye!" he called, and waved, fading away a moment later.
"Rest in peace, all here! So mote it be!" Rumple intoned.
No sooner were the words out of his mouth then the stone altar shuddered and cracked in two.
The ground trembled and the graveyard was suddenly cracking and splitting in two and suddenly it disappeared in a roar of displaced earth, sucked down into a hole, buried forever beneath the surface of Skull Rock.
"It's done, Papa!" Mathias cried.
"Indeed. Now let's go home," Rumple said, and picked up his son, grabbed a hold of Fearchara's collar and vanished from the dreamscape.
Page~*~*~*~*~Break
Rumple woke first, sitting up and yawning. He got to his feet, seeing Belle sitting beside Mathias, who was just beginning to stir as well. Fearchara yawned and opened her eyes, shaking her head.
"Rumple . . . is he . . .?" Belle asked. The Booke of Dreams lay open on her lap, the pages blank again.
Mathias opened his eyes and blinked. "Huh? Mama?"
Belle grabbed the boy and hugged him hard. "Mathias Crane Gold! Don't you ever scare me like that again!"
Mathias found his face pressed up against Belle's nightgown, and at first wasn't sure what was going on. Then he remembered. The Booke of Dreams. The spirits of the Lost Boys. The graveyard. The altar.
Slowly, he lifted his head and looked up to see two sets of eyes, one blue and one brown, staring at him with a mixture of disappointment and disapproval. "Oh," he managed to whispered.
"Oh, is right, young man," Rumple repeated, frowning. "You have some serious 'splaining to do!" he mumbled, feeling exhaustion sweep over him. He fought to keep from yawning.
Mathias swallowed hard and shrank back against Fearchara.
Belle put a hand on Rumple's arm and said to her son, "You stay right here until we come back and discuss things with you, Mr. Gold." Then she drew Rumple out of the room so they could discuss what to do with their wayward child, leaving Mathias huddled in the middle of the bed, clinging to Fearchara, who was licking his face anxiously.
A/N: Okay, thanks for reading and hope you liked what went on here. Big thank you to cynicsquest for helping me with this chapter. More Easter Eggs here-what does the basalt stone altar remind you of? Hint . . . it is featured in another famous children's story by a noted author. And . . . who did Rumple remind you of with his last words in this chapter? This character's initials are RR.
Answer to trivia question #2: Dorothy's husband's name parodied George McLintock played by John Wayne.