Storybrooke, present day
After a sleepless night, Rumple rose with the sun. He got carefully out of the bed so as to not disturb Belle, who slept with a serene smile on her lips.
A smile she only wore because she was unaware he was still deceiving and lying to her. For the space of a heartbeat, Rumple felt something vaguely like remorse pass through him. For a moment, for just the barest moment, he wished he could be more like Killian, willing to sacrifice anything for the good of the woman he loved.
But as quickly as the thought surfaced, it flitted away. Look where all Killian's fine heroism got him. He'd been stabbed through the heart by his true love and died in her arms. Then, just when it looked like he'd be saved again, his life—and all his hope—had been taken from him.
No, if one wanted real power, he had to take it. None of this self-sacrifice BS all the storybooks preached.
Rumple quickly got dressed in his most sophisticated suit. Hades had sent him a note, via his magic watch, demanding a meeting at the pawn shop that morning, and Rumple wanted to appear to the best advantage.
It was vital he show this absolute fool of a god that the Dark One was not to be trifled with. If Hades believed he could get by with tricking Rumple into selling his second-born child, he had another thing coming.
Stepping out into the crisp, cool autumn air, Rumple looked around with satisfaction. Not a soul to be seen this early in the morning. Good. The thought of anyone seeing him cavorting with Hades—even secluded in his own pawn shop—was not to be borne. He must impress upon Hades the importance of keeping their meetings discreet.
The bell over the door chimed as Rumple stepped through his shop door. He flipped on the light switch, and found the god of the dead standing behind the counter perusing the items in his front display case.
"I'd appreciate if you left my merchandise be, Dearie," Rumple said with a sneer.
Hades turned the tiny model ship over and over in his hands, looking closely at it before negligently tossing it back into the display case. "Merchandise? That what you call this junk? Anybody actually want any of this? I mean, besides the people you stole it from in the first place?"
"The relative success or failure of my business is not your concern."
Hades chuckled, stepped out from behind the counter and playfully chucked Rumple's chin. "Yeah, you've got a point there Dark One. So what do you say we get to those things that are my concern. Namely that source of magic you promised me."
Rumple smiled nastily. "As to that, perhaps we need to negotiate."
Hades' easy going manner vanished in an instant. His hair flamed nearly to the ceiling. "I don't negotiate with nasty little insects. You made me a promise, and I plan to collect."
"That, dearie, was before I learned you have plans to steal my unborn baby."
"It was right there in the contract Dim One," Hades growled. "Not my fault if you can't read."
"Here's the thing, god of the dead," Rumple said, crossing his arms. "I have something you desperately want, something you, in fact need. Without my knowledge, you fail at your quest to depose your brother. I have, what they call 'leverage'. I know it's a hard concept to grasp, but think really, really hard. I'm sure you'll eventually figure it out."
Hades face reddened and a vein in his forehead started pulsing in his rage. Then, abruptly he calmed, took a seat and smiled nastily. Rumple found it rather unnerving.
"So how's this for leverage, Dark One?" He said calmly. "That contract entitles me to your child. I can take him—yeah, your little embryo is a boy; isn't that nice? You can finally replace Bae!—whenever the hell I want. If I were to…say make your precious Belle so sick she miscarries, I can do it. Should she then…not recover, it's all part of the deal. Hell, for that matter, I could even send one of my minions out to kill her outright. So how's that 'keep Hades in the dark' plan looking to you about now?"
Rumple's heart dropped. He was trapped. He was well and truly trapped. There really wasn't any way out of this horrific deal, at least not before he'd given Hades the information he wanted.
"The wishing well," he finally said, sullenly. "In the woods just outside of town, you'll find a wishing well. It's the tether between this world and all the magical realms. During this fortnight period between the blue moon and the moment the stars align, it will be particularly porous. All you need do is use it as a conduit, drawing magic through it into your god medallion. But I warn you, magical transmission of that magnitude takes time. You must begin the transport immediately if you hope to finish it before the alignment."
Hades got to his feet, stepped forward and offered his hand (which Rumple pointedly ignored). "Now that wasn't that hard was it? Pleasure to do business with you, Dark One. Might as well go spend time with your unborn baby while you still can!"
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
Belle poured the hot water into two mugs and then added two tea bags to seep. She frowned, looking sightlessly out the kitchen window, feeling so very, very helpless.
Rumple had left that morning before the dawn. When Belle had awoken, turning toward her husband's side of the bed, hoping to cuddle a bit before the morning sickness hit and she had to sprint to the bathroom, she'd found the sheets cold and empty.
For a moment, her heart dropped, believing the events of yesterday—Rumple coming home to her safe and sound—were a dream, but then she saw the note on Rumple's pillow.
She perused it, found that Rumple had gone in to the shop early this morning, hoping to get some work done on the inventory. He'd advised her to get as much rest as she needed, and then he'd asked if she would stay with Henry.
That request had done quite a bit to quash Belle's joy at Rumple's return. Yes, she'd gotten her happy ending back, but Henry…oh, Henry! The poor boy must be in agony. She couldn't imagine what it must feel like to watch a man you thought you knew—thought you loved—murder the remainder of your family in cold blood. How did one even recover from a blow like that?
She'd moved silently around the home, hoping to allow Henry to sleep for as long as possible, hoping at least being well-rested would give her grandson the strength he needed to face the day. Eventually, she'd heard him moving around his room, and she'd tapped silently on the door before opening it.
The sight that met her eyes broke her heart. Henry was up, pacing the room like a caged tiger. His eyes were red and bloodshot, the occasional tear tracking its way down his cheeks. He looked as though he was barely holding on.
Belle did the only thing she could think to do. She took him into her arms and held him close. For a moment Henry cried into her shoulder, the heartbroken sobs of a little boy who'd suddenly been orphaned.
Eventually, Henry had pulled away, scrubbed at his wet cheeks and taken a deep breath, looking every bit as hard and determined as his mother Emma. "I know you're trying to help, Grandma Belle," he'd said in a thick voice, "and I really appreciate it, but I…I think I just need to be alone for a little bit."
She'd given him a concerned look, not at all sure solitude was the best thing for someone who'd endured such a monumental loss, but in the end, she'd merely nodded, assured him that if he needed anything, anything, she'd just be downstairs in the library.
Henry had emerged an hour later, looking calmer than he'd been when he first awoke.
"Grandma," he'd said as soon as he reached the library, "do you have any blank paper? I…I need to write everything down."
Belle had looked at him with no small amount of concern. "Henry…are you sure reliving such a…terribly painful moment is a good idea so soon after it happened? Perhaps you need to give yourself time."
Henry shook his head, resolute look on his face. "I, can't explain it," he said, his voice betraying more than a little frustration at his inability to communicate what he wanted, "it's just…ever since I became the author I have to write. It's like it's in my blood or something. I can't even process what happened until I have it written down. And…and it just doesn't make sense! Any of it! Killian gave up the darkness! He had my mom kill him to destroy it! How could he possibly still have it down in the Underworld? And…and what he did to mom…that's just…he'd never hurt her!" He shrugged. "Maybe if I just…write it down, somehow I can get over this nagging feeling that something is just not right."
She'd agreed then, seeing how important, how vital this was to Henry. She'd pulled out an entire ream of paper, placed it before Henry, and then announced her intention to make them some tea.
Now, here she stood, tea gently steeping in the cups, and she couldn't get Henry's words out of her head. It was weird. All of it. Killian had been quite the villain at one point—no one knew that better than she—but everything he'd done had been in the name of love. That he, even filled with the darkness, would murder the woman he loved in cold blood—it was just utterly unaccountable.
She knew the darkness made a person do things he would normally not do, but…but the Dark One still had themselves within. To think Killian would just throw away his love and do something so terrible…it didn't make sense!
No sooner had that thought crossed her mind, than another, far more horrible took it's place. She only had Rumple's word to go on that things had transpired as he said. Was it possible that he was…he was lying to her again? Something about him had felt off last night as they talked. She'd dismissed it, assuming the trauma of the whole situation had affected him adversely, but, maybe…
Belle compressed her lips into a hard line. No. She would not immediately jump to believing her husband was lying again. She had to have faith; had to trust him. Now that he was no longer under the curse of the darkness, her real Rumple was in command, and she had to believe he would be truthful with her.
After all, if this was just some sort of elaborate ruse on Rumple's part…what kind of person would be so horrifyingly cruel as to let his own grandson suffer the agony of believing both of his mothers, as well as his other set of grandparents, had been murdered at the hands of the man he'd come to look up to as a step-father? That was lower than even Rumple, at his Dark One worst, would stoop.
Right now, Henry was her priority. She had to find a way to help him heal. That decision in mind, she picked up the two mugs and made her way back to the library.
Belle expected to find Henry scribbling away at the paper in front of him, but instead found him staring into space, the pen discarded, the paper blank before him.
"Having trouble getting started?" she asked kindly, setting the mug of tea before him.
He turned confused, pain-filled eyes her way. "I don't understand it. I have these memories of what happened in my head, but I just can't write it."
Belle gave him a quick, side-armed hug. "It was an incredibly traumatic experience Henry," she said. "Be patient with yourself. It only makes sense that it would be so painful that you can't bring yourself to relive it."
Henry growled in exasperation. "It's not that, Grandma!" he sighed deeply. "It's not that I'm too emotional or whatever; it's that…the words just aren't there. It's like I'm trying to write the wrong thing. Every time I try to start writing about what happened, these…other images keep popping into my mind. I see Killian giving mom a True Love's Kiss. I see my other mom splitting mom's heart for her and giving half to Killian, and them coming down the stairs of the house by the sea hand in hand and happy. I see us all—Killian too—working together."
Belle felt a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with her pregnancy nausea, as her doubts about her husband came roaring back again.
But once again, she ruthlessly shoved them aside. If this marriage had a prayer of working, she had to trust him. She had to give him the opportunity to prove himself to her.
"Write what you feel, Henry," she finally said, once and for all putting aside her fears and suspicions. "Maybe fiction—a version of events you wished had happened is what your mind is telling you you need right now. Satisfy that urge to write, and maybe one day, when the pain isn't so fresh, you can write your memories of what actually happened."
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
Underworld, present day
Emma woke slowly to the sensation of Killian—her husband—caressing her back, playing with the ends of her hair. She lay tangled with him beneath the covers of their king-sized bed, her head pillowed on his chest, his springy chest hear tickling her nose.
For a moment, for just one small moment, she let herself indulge in memories of the night before. Their loving had been overwhelming, mind-blowing, explosive—easily the best experience of the kind she'd ever had.
It wasn't merely the physical sensations, the fact that Killian was an excellent lover—although he certainly knew what he was doing between the sheets—it was so very much more. Like the difference between a black and white film and one in color. The love she felt for this man, his love for her, the fact that they'd committed their whole lives to each other…all of this made it more and stronger and better than any other amorous adventure she'd ever experienced.
She hadn't merely given her body to him—and him to her—they'd both given their entire beings, body, heart, spirit, to each other, and she'd never in her life even imagined it could be possible to feel that close, that connected to another person.
Nor had she ever dreamed being that vulnerable, that open could be so freeing and exhilarating.
Killian must have sensed her waking, because no sooner had she opened her eyes, than he gently flipped them, so she lay on her back and he hovered over her. "Good morning, wife," he said with a tender smile.
"Morning, husband," she responded, reaching up to kiss him. He returned the kiss, sighing into it but keeping it deliberately light and gentle.
Slowly he pulled back and grinned mischievously at her. "Darling, I love you with every fiber of my being, but if you tell me that last night was a one-time thing, I will be inconsolable."
She rolled her eyes at his nonsense, swatting his shoulder playfully. "You're never going to let me live that 'one-time thing' business down, are you?"
He rolled them again so that they lay on their sides facing each other. He nuzzled his nose against hers before leaning in to kiss her again. "I might be persuaded to forget the incident, my love, but it will cost you."
"Yeah?" she asked, grinning. "What's it going to run me?"
He began trailing kisses behind her ear, down her neck once more. "Perhaps a couple million kisses. An entire lifetime of nights like the one we just spent. Forever with the woman I love with everything I have and everything I am."
She smiled tenderly, pulling his face up for another searing kiss. "I think I could agree to those terms."
"So we have an accord, my lovely princess?"
"Yep."
Red-tinted sunlight spilled into their room as Killian leaned in to kiss her again, and the reminder of the dawn brought Emma's mind back to the crises of the day before. Along with the memory came the rush of anger and sadness and aching fear.
Killian picked up on the change of her mood immediately. His brow furrowed and he gently massaged her scalp. "What troubles you, love...other than the obvious difficulty of our current situation?"
"It's just…" she said, "he has him, Killian! Rumple-freaking-stiltskin has Henry. He has our son! Who knows what's happening to him! Who knows what he's told him! Who knows what he's doing to him! And there's not a damn thing I can do about it. I'm trapped here while my son might be in danger."
Killian leaned forward and kissed her gently before pulling back. "Calm yourself, Swan," he said soothingly, "we will get back to him and we will save him from the Crocodile's clutches. Never doubt that. In the meantime, our lad is smart and resourceful. He can deal with the situation."
"Can he, though?" she asked. "He's in the hands of the nastiest Dark One there's ever been—that and the freaking god of the dead!"
"And that Dark One, no matter how loathsome and villainous," Killian said calmly, "is his grandfather. Remember love; the Crocodile kidnapped Henry because he wanted his son's only progeny with him. He cares about Henry, in whatever warped, twisted way he's able to care for others. At least we can be assured he will do all in his power to keep the lad safe."
Emma smiled tremulously and then sat up, looking around for her clothes. "You're good for me; you know that?"
Killian chuckled, retrieving his own clothing and beginning to dress. "I've known that from the day we climbed the beanstalk together, love. What do you say we head over to your parent's hell abode and strategize a way to rescue our lad?"
Emma pulled on her jeans and white sweater, and then turned toward him with a smile. "Sounds good to me. And while we're at it, why don't we discuss the best techniques for skinning crocodiles?"
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
In the end, as no one had come up with a solution to their problem during the night, the group decided a trip to the library was in order. None had high hopes Hades would keep a book in his library that detailed ways to escape his realm, but at this point anything was worth a shot.
As the others poured over volume after dusty volume, Hercules found his mind wandering. The others, all the others, had hope. For them, it was merely a matter of finding a way to create a portal back to the land of the living. Once there, they could find the villain who had taken their life and walk through them to reclaim it.
Not so for his Meg. Hades, himself had taken Meg's life, and Hercules knew instinctively that there would be no getting it back. No matter what. It was gone forever.
The thought hurt as badly as a knife to the chest. The thought that no matter how successful this group of heroes might be, his true love would be forever trapped in this hell hole…it was not to be borne. There had to be another way.
And so while the rest looked for ways to create portals, he searched for a way to bring back one whose soul was gone.
To his knowledge, there was only one way to bring someone back from the dead once their spirit was gone (well, two, but he'd ruled out the heart split right away. As a god he knew his heart would be incompatible with her mortal body): A life for a life. If a living one were to trade places with a dead one, the dead one's life would be restored.
Hercules would have willingly, gladly made the trade with his Meg, but for one tiny, crucial detail: He was rumored to be the only one able to defeat Hades. Were he to walk through Meg, giving her his life, there would be no way to stop his terrible uncle, and that possibility was not to be considered. The fate of all the known universe depended on Hercules to fulfill his destiny.
It was far into the afternoon when he finally found it—one small sentence that sparked an idea in him. It was a long shot, and it would require no little sacrifice on his part, but knowing that his Meg would be alive and well made it more than worth it.
"When a god swears an oath from the temple of the gods, the oath is binding."
Within moments, he had a plan in place. He must be covert; it was a sure thing Meg would balk at the plan should she catch wind of it. But it was his life, his fate, he was considering. If he had a chance—no matter how slim—to save the woman he loved, he had to take it.
Killian closed the ponderous tome he was reading with a bang and then ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Nothing! There is not a bloody thing in this entire bloody library that's of any use to us!"
Snow was at his side in a moment, comforting hand against his back. "Don't give up Killian! We have to have hope! We'll find something; we always do."
From Killian's other side, Emma spoke up, sounding far more defeated than Hercules had ever heard her in the whole of their acquaintance. "No, mom, Killian's right. We've spent all day here, and we've looked through every book that even remotely had anything that could be useful and we haven't found a thing. Trust me; I know when a trail is cold."
No one, evidently, had anything to respond to that, and for a moment the only sound in the library was the ticking of the clock on the wall above the circulation desk. In the end, it was Charming who broke the silence.
"Maybe so," he said firmly, "but all isn't yet lost. We had a plan before Gold and Hades double crossed us, and that plan is still usable."
"What?" Regina asked, crossing her arms, and leaning back in her chair. "You mean take advantage of the magic of the stars aligning and use the lowering of the barriers between worlds to create a portal for ourselves?"
"Excatly," Charming said.
"But dad!" Emma protested. "The alignment of the stars is still almost two weeks away! Are you suggesting we just sit on our hands for two weeks while Gold has Henry and Hades is up there doing…only God knows what kind of horrible things? For all we know, within two weeks, Hades will have enough power to take down Zeus, and we'll be too late to stop him!"
Killian sighed deeply once again. "Aye, true enough, my love," he said in a tired, defeated voice, "but your father's right. That may be our only option for escape. By all means, we'd do best to keep an eye out for any new information that might arise, but to my way of thinking, our best strategy now is to use these two weeks to plan our attack once we've returned to Storybrooke."
"And," Snow said, "we don't need to just sit on our hands while we're down here! There's still a lot of good we can do! This place is still full of souls with unfinished business. While we're waiting for our chance to leave, we can help as many people as we can get to Elysium."
"That's a wonderful idea," Meg said, taking Hercules's hand and lacing their fingers. "And not just because it's the heroic thing to do. It can also help us prepare for the battle! The more souls Hercules is able to help to their eternal reward, the more of his god status will be returned and the more prepared he'll be for the big standoff with Hades!"
And so it was decided. They'd spend their remaining thirteen days in the Underworld training for battle and helping as many souls as possible cross to the other side.
Plan in place, it was decided that the group of heroes would return to the house by the sea for dinner and a further strategy session. (Though their research session had come up empty on ways to open a portal to the land of the living, it had provided them with a useful tidbit: the usual rules about eating in the underworld, didn't apply to souls who were no longer living. Eating and drinking would no longer be a problem.)
Knowing that the longer he put it off, the harder it would be to break away and do what he had to do, Hercules excused himself, making an excuse about needing to search his uncle's mansion for a memento that might help him in his fight. Meg had, of course, offered to accompany him, but he'd waved her off, insisting this was something he had to do alone.
She'd looked more than a little skeptical, but in the end had nodded and let him go without a protest—to his profound relief.
The biggest difficulty with regard to Hercules' plan was getting to the temple of the gods, as it existed in the land of the living. But after a moment of thought, Hercules came up with an idea. Clearly the gods were able to appear at the temple when mortals called on them, but they didn't appear in person. That must mean each god had a way to contact and appear in the temple—from their own home. Where might Hades' connection to the temple be but in his own mansion?
Hercules half expected the connection to be difficult to find, hidden well, protected with some kind of horrific magic, but finally, finally luck seemed to be with him. He'd no sooner walked into his uncle's study before he noticed a large, neon sign in the corner which helpfully read "To the Temple of the Gods".
Following the doorway, he found himself in a tiny, round, windowless room. Looking around, he saw another door at the far side of the room. This one, also was conveniently labeled: "To talk to the annoying mortals who want something from me."
It wasn't exactly his purpose, but it was the closest he was going to get, he decided. Taking a deep breath, he walked through the door…and found himself exactly where he wanted to be, at Hades' shrine in the temple of the gods.
Something drove him; something compelled him. Somehow he knew exactly what to do. Tossing a handful of powder into the bowl before his uncle's shrine, he grabbed the lamp on the wall, and then set his handful of powder on fire.
He took a deep breath and then made his god's oath.
"I wish to save the life of my true love, Megara," he said clearly, "and to that end, I plan to walk through her, trade places with her as soon as we've returned to the land of the living. As it's vital I retain my godhood until I've defeated Hades, god of the dead, my sacrifice will not take effect until Hades is defeated. I make this vow now before all the gods of the Pantheon: I swear that the moment Hades is defeated, I will renounce my godhood and bequeath my human life to Megara. I will henceforth remain forever in the Underworld."
There was a tremendous bang and flash of light, and then all was still once again. It was sign enough. Hercules knew his vow had been made.
Feeling lighter than he had in years, Hercules walked out of the temple and back into his uncle's study, a delighted smile on his face. He'd succeeded. Come what may, he'd assured Meg could return to life.
Notes:
-So, Rumple tells Hades how to obtain the power he wants, Belle and Henry instinctively know something is not quite right with Rumple's horrifying tale, the gang in the Underworld has a plan, even if it's going to take much longer than they'd like, and Hercules found a way to save Meg. All in all, a pretty full chapter, lol.
-I have to admit, I'm enjoying making Rumple squirm (and still enjoying the irony of him getting the raw end of a deal), but I do feel bad for Belle and the baby.
-Not long to go now. 3 chapters left.
-Up next: In Storybrooke, after two weeks of collecting power, Hades is still a little short. He has an interesting proposition for Rumple. In the Underworld, the time of the stars aligning finally arrives. Will the heroes be able to form a portal and go through? If so, what will they find when they return to Storybrooke?
