Hook made no more appearances in Rumplestiltskin's dreams. Instead, he took to more frequent visits in the physical plane — at first to gloat, but then to grouse, much to Rumplestiltskin's annoyance. Nights spent in Neverland had restored a certain amount of clarity to his mind, but that meant that he had no easy way to tune out the pirate. He was forcibly summoned to stand on the other side of the bars, a captive audience.
"They want me to marry her. Make things proper. She hasn't said so, but I've seen the way her father looks at me."
Have you mistaken me for someone who gives a damn? Rumplestiltskin wanted to say, but he couldn't forget who held the key to this prison. If he was to have any chance of getting the dagger back, he had to play along. And if the pirate would rather confide in his old enemy than, say, Archie Hopper, Rumplestiltskin couldn't afford to waste the opportunity. Not that Hook permitted him to talk. Perhaps that was his advantage over the cricket: less of a sympathetic ear, but also less of a challenge to the pirate's self- image. Not that Hook seemed to harbor any guilt over kidnapping and torturing Hopper (who was incredibly forgiving in any case, as Rumplestiltskin knew from his own history with him.)
"Now, Milah never wanted marriage. Once she had a taste of freedom, she never wanted to be shackled again." Hook eyed Rumplestiltskin disparagingly. "With a husband like you, who could blame her, eh?"
Milah was the last person Rumplestiltskin wanted to discuss, but he had no choice in the matter.
"Milah." Hook sighed. "Ah, Milah. Now there was a woman who appreciated life under the black flag. Swan's different. The Charmings expect me to be a hero. An admiral in their bloody navy!" He scoffed. "Me, in a uniform again?" He leaned closer into the bars and confided, "The other sea captains resent me. They know what I was. They don't want a trumped-up pirate set over their heads. Truth is, I don't want it either."
What, too much like honest work? Can't handle the responsibility? guessed Rumplestiltskin. Not that anyone had asked for his opinion.
Hook paced restlessly, mouth twisted in a disgruntled frown. "Wearing the royal yoke on my neck, all tied up in rules and regulations, what kind of life is that? The lads think I've gone soft. Why haven't I had my way with Swan and moved on? The seas beckon... but it's a small sacrifice to make for my happy ending."
Hook came back the next day to complain about his crew again. "Half of them have found new berths while the other half plot to steal the Jolly Roger, the mutinous rats."
Rumplestiltskin amused himself by imagining them as literal rats. A pity Hook didn't think to order it from the Dark One. But after he had dealt with his crew, Hook returned to the subject of Milah. This time he was soaked in alcohol and inclined to be weepy with it.
"Stuck in the Underworld for centuries. Then you go and shove her into the river. Bloody tragic." He shot Rumplestiltskin a red-rimmed glare. "Bastard."
Rumplestiltskin ground his teeth on a futile defense. It wasn't as if he had wanted to do that to Milah. But Hades had threatened them all, and if it came to a choice between the living and the dead, the living had to take precedence. Naturally, the pirate was too thick to see it. All he saw was the Dark One in the villain's role again, "stealing" his glory.
Then Hook's face fell and he leaned against the bars, staring earnestly at his nemesis. "What do you think her unfinished business was? Was it me?"
It wasn't with me, or she'd have moved on after our talk, thought Rumplestiltskin. Still, perhaps the pirate was serious about his redemption, if he spared half a thought for Milah herself rather than using her name to justify his obsessions. Unfortunately, a redeemed jailer was no less a jailer.
"If only she'd come in with Emma to find me," Hook muttered resentfully. "Didn't she want to see me?"
As if things weren't already awkward enough? Rumplestiltskin snorted inwardly. Easier for Milah to pretend to be useful by keeping an eye on her ex-husband than to see for certain that she had been replaced in her old lover's affections. Replaced by someone willing to brave hell itself to retrieve him, when it hadn't entered anyone's head to even make the attempt for Milah.
"Was she waiting for me to kill you?" Hook stabbed a finger at Rumplestiltskin. "But it's too bloody late now. She's gone. Baelfire's gone. Your demon dad's gone. Just us left. You and me and Smee. You and me and Smee!" He laughed drunkenly.
Wonderful. Rumplestiltskin had no choice but to let him ramble on.
Hook slapped the bars of the cell. "But that's no matter. I'm to marry Swan! I'll be a new man. Reborn." A moment later, his face twisted with worry and he lowered his voice. "D'you think she wants more children? Milah didn't. But what if Emma wants a full clutch? Bloody hell, I was never cut out to be a father."
On that we can agree, thought Rumplestiltskin. Though who knows, maybe it would give you something to think about besides yourself. Not that Hook wanted his advice.
Hook groaned and buried his face against his arms. "But if she asks... she's the bloody light of my life, isn't she? And every man should have a legacy. Even you, Crocodile — that murderous brat of yours is still out there somewhere." Hook lifted his head to glare at Rumplestiltskin. "If he shows his face again..."
Rumplestiltskin kept his own expression neutral. Trust me, I want him as far from here as possible.
After letting the threat hang between them for a few breaths, Hook shoved himself away from the cell and stalked out again, leaving Rumplestiltskin to stew in his own thoughts.
So the heroes were planning a wedding, binding the Savior to the (ex-)pirate. They meant to cut the ties between the Savior and the Evil Queen, then. Poor Regina. She must not have had any better luck breaking free than he had. What this meant for their futures... Rumplestiltskin sat down heavily and tied his mother's cloak around his eyes again. He stared into the darkness, trying to piece together the puzzle that continually shifted in his inner vision.
They walked on a razor's edge. Golden shears cut their path, and a stain of blood spread, washing away all hope. His hands shook as he willed the visions to change, but without using his magic, he had no control over what he was shown. White mists darkened to black. Space shrank, invisible boundaries closing in. Then new stars arose in the darkness, opening space in directions unconceived.
He came back to himself, the cloak of shadows twisted in his fingers. The pattern on the cloak matched the pattern of the stars. A guiding constellation. A beacon of faith.
Faith? Rumplestiltskin grimaced. That had never been his strong point. While fairy magic depended on belief, dark magic was by its nature disruptive to faith. His mother had tried to harness both. Could he do the same?
Be your mother's son.
He had to try. He believed in Belle. If she still believed in him, it was a miracle, but miracles... well, they had to make their own miracles. His mother's cloak had taken him to Neverland in his dreams. Could it take him further than that? If the Shadow could do it—
You're clutching at straws.
Ah, but straw could be spun into gold.
Belle? Rumple's voice came from behind her, soft but distinct.
Rumple? Belle sat up abruptly. Where was he? Why couldn't she see?
He repeated her name, but his voice was drowned out by angry shouts... and a barking dog.
A dog?
Then she woke up, finding herself reaching for empty air. Dim light filtered in through shuttered windows, and the muffled shouting of her dream. Hexie stared at the door, bristling, ears and tail up in high alert. She barked again. Belle picked up Gideon, then crouched next to the dog. She laid a hand on Hexie's neck. "Shhh. Don't. I'm trying to hear..."
Someone rapped softly on the door. Belle stood up and opened it a crack. "Who is it?"
"It's me." The innkeeper's daughter. Her voice trembled with urgency as she beckoned to Belle. "Come on. You have to get out of here. Hurry!"
"What?" Even as she asked the question, Belle packed up her belongings.
The innkeeper's daughter pushed her way inside and moved to help. "My mother's holding them back for now, but I don't know how long she can..."
"Hold who back? Why?" Bewildered, Belle followed the girl down the steps to the back door, Hexie tight on her heels. "Wait..."
"It's the butcher's son. The wee lad's fallen ill, only they're saying it's a curse," the girl explained in a low rush. "They're blaming..."
"They're blaming me?"
The girl flinched, but nodded. She eased the door open, peeked outside, then led Belle around the building, cutting behind the stables. She pointed out the path that led to the woods, only a short length away. "After all that you said last night, they think you're trouble. Maybe you bewitched the boy, or maybe it's the gods punishing us for listening to treason."
Belle caught the girl's arm. "No. No, that's crazy."
The girl jerked free and backed away a step. "Everything's mad lately. Or haven't you noticed?"
Belle sighed. "I know. But surely you can't believe that I would harm a child?"
The girl shook her head. "I don't know. How would I know? But Mama says we're innkeepers, we have a duty — we can't betray our guests. So go, damn you."
She's running scared. They all are. You frightened them last night, giving them thoughts that don't fit into their tiny little world. So a boy falls ill. They take it as a sign. Superstitious peasants. Leave them. They won't even remember you, only the stories you told them, and they're trying to forget that, too, by the sound of things.
But what if it really was a curse? And even if it wasn't, if the villagers redoubled on their old beliefs and violent solutions, all of Belle's efforts here would have been for nothing. She frowned at the innkeeper's daughter. "I can't leave. Maybe I can help. I have some experience with curses."
"No one wants your help!" The girl made the sign against evil. "Go away!"
"All right, I'm going, I'm going." Belle moved away slowly, making her way to the cover of the woods under the watchful gaze of the innkeeper's daughter. Hexie trotted after her faithfully. Belle ducked behind a tree. She clasped Owlflower's enchanted brooch and glanced down at the dog. "I'm not really leaving. I can go back to the village in a bit, and they won't recognize me. You'd better wait here, though."
In the meantime, she saw to Gideon's needs. By now, she was accustomed to caring for an infant no matter where she found herself.
A few hours later, she left Hexie tied to a tree (promising to return soon) and sneaked back into the village with Gideon. On her first visit, she had deliberately drawn attention to herself as a storyteller, but now she kept in the background of the crowd that had gathered outside the butcher's shop. It was not just blind fear stirring the villagers up — the fear had a voice.
"The darkness is all around us! We must be vigilant. Be not seduced by a fair face or charmed words into blasphemy and sedition — they will not save us. Only faith in the gods will save us."
A holy man, by the look of his black and red robe. And not a live-and-let-live renegade like Friar Tuck, but a fire-and-brimstone fanatic like the bishop who had ministered to Avonlea's royal court. Belle's heart sank in dismay as she remembered how uncompromising he had been even during the desperation of the ogre war. He had denounced their plan to send for the Dark One, threatening Maurice with excommunication; but as the gods had clearly already withdrawn their favor, it meant little by that point.
"But you! You have wavered in your hearts. You contemplate treason to your rightful rulers. You have opened your ears to filth — and let evil escape justice. See the result! You are cursed by heaven, and a child pays the price."
Belle clapped a hand over her mouth, biting back an outraged protest.
Did you think you were the only storyteller in Misthaven?
Belle shook her head in mute denial, but she dared not speak out now, not without causing worse trouble.
"Repent! Repent, and pray to the gods for forgiveness."
She tried to squeeze her way through the crowd towards the shop. If she could somehow help the sick child, then maybe...
Then the door opened and a man stepped out. He cradled a small, limp form in his arms and his face was contorted in grief. A gasp rose from the crowd. The man shouted hoarsely, "Out! Get out! Vultures...vultures." Then in a soft, broken voice, "He's dead. My son is dead."
Too late.
"It is the dark magic of the fey," proclaimed the holy man. He swept his gaze around the shocked faces gathered outside the shop. "And this poor boy is only the first victim. Whose child is next? Will it be yours? Or yours? How will you save them?"
No one answered. The silence was broken only by the labored breathing of the butcher, who no longer seemed to see anything beyond his dead child.
"Then listen, and listen well. The gods have spoken to me. Let you open your hearts and pray to them, and they may speak to you also. They offer us their protection, but only if we give them loyalty and faith in turn. Follow me, if you would live..."
It was to the village temple that he led them. Like most in the Enchanted Forest, it was dedicated to the Olympian gods. Belle let herself be drawn along after the crowd, but she stopped once she saw where they were headed.
The gods have no love for you...
At least, not those gods, Belle thought bitterly. As a child, she had been taught that the gods were good. The gods protected humankind. Lies. At first she had thought Hades to be an anomaly, a villainous god, but now she knew better. The gods were as selfish and short-sighted as mortals. As the fey? What if it was a fey curse that had struck down the child? Belle remembered Owlflower's story — remembered that elves, too, were capable of great evil. Even if ninety-nine out of a hundred committed to peace, that left one who was not. And if the one was skilled in dark magic...
Belle shuddered and quickened her pace — she had to see, had to know. The butcher had not moved from the threshold except to sit, his head bowed over the body gathered in his lap. Now that the crowd had dispersed, Belle saw the sign against witchcraft crudely painted on the wall next to the butcher. As for the butcher and his son—
It's not a curse. It's a contagion.
And nothing natural. A haze of darkness hung over the corpse. Nameless dread emanated from bloodless skin, clung to the father. A contagion of horror.
Belle stopped and stumbled back a step, a chill running up her spine. It wasn't fey magic. It wasn't human magic. It was... it was a greedy, empty hunger. Belle swallowed her revulsion and forced herself to inch closer. She crouched down a few feet in front of the bereft father, wishing to comfort him, but it was as if even that much proximity left her frozen.
The man lifted his head and stared at her blankly. His jaws worked for a long moment before he found his voice again. "What do I do?"
Belle couldn't answer.
Tears ran down the man's cheeks. "They said. Cursed. Unclean. They won't... they won't let him. Be with his mother."
Why? Belle mouthed the question soundlessly.
"Hallowed ground. They won't let him in. My boy."
Because he was "unclean"?
"He was all I had left. Last one." The man's eyes focused sharply on Belle. No. On Gideon. "You have a child. Give it to me!" He scrambled to his feet, dropping his own son, and lunged at Belle.
An invisible force smashed him back into the wall, his head meeting the bricks with a sickening thud. Shocked, Belle jumped back, her hand raised to strike him again before she even realized what she had done. "No!"
The unnatural miasma stretched out from the butcher and from the corpse on the street, reaching out for her — for her son.
Run! a voice shrieked inside her mind. It will take Gideon!
Fear flooded through her and she raised a shield of magic around her son, all caution thrown to the wind. A moment later, she was back in the forest, dropping to the ground to cling to Hexie (warm, alive). She shook uncontrollably, breath shuddering harshly through her mouth.
"We have to go," she whispered when she could speak again. "I don't know what that... what that was. I don't know how to fight it. Whatever it did to that poor boy... it was horrible."
Hexie whined and licked at her.
"I don't know." She remembered the man's question, What do I do? He had sounded so lost. Until he had found an answer, a madman's answer that was worse than no answer at all. "What should I do?"
Run.
"Your reverence?" The voice came muffled through the door, but the knock that followed was clear in its urgency.
The Blue Fairy hastily shut her cabinet before moving to answer the door. She arranged a confident smile on her face as she greeted the visitors. "Geppetto. Pinocchio."
"Your reverence, please, is there any news?" The old woodworker's voice was edged with anxiety, but he managed a veneer of calm.
Pinocchio — or August, as he now preferred to be called — was less restrained. "It's been almost four weeks—"
And they had come to her door daily for the past two. The Blue Fairy forced herself to patience. "I'm sorry. Fey magic is difficult to see through. If they have Jiminy, they've hidden him well."
"Yes, you said that before. Many times." August glowered at her. "I should have gone with him."
The Blue Fairy shook her head. "On such an ill-advised mission? He should never have gone at all. Snow White should never have allowed..."
"He insisted," said August. "And if there's any chance of a diplomatic solution, well, Archie's the best one to find it."
Geppetto nodded. "He has a good heart."
"That means nothing to the fey," Blue said sharply. "They're full of darkness, and there's no negotiating with darkness."
"I don't know. Regina and Rumplestiltskin seemed to have some success," August muttered.
"They betrayed us all. We're fortunate we caught them in time."
"You're a little harsh." August stared at her rebelliously. "There's always some give and take in diplomacy. Surely it's better than all-out war."
"Not at the cost of our souls! Any peace they offer is illusion. A slow corruption and slide into the dark." Blue glanced at Geppetto, drawing a wisp of belief to push his fatherly instincts. "We must fight for our children."
Geppetto sighed, patting August on his shoulder. "She's right, son."
"Is she?" August scowled. "Even if we could save Archie? If there's nothing you can do, maybe I should ask Rumplestiltskin for help."
The Blue Fairy shuddered at the name. "He tortured you!"
"Yeah, well, he also saved me. Thinking back..." August shook his head. "He didn't have to do that. After the pain I caused him the first time we met, I could have expected more payback, but he only took advantage of spells already laid on me. And there's always a price for magic."
"A high price. You had a second chance. The childhood you were meant to have, with your father." The Blue Fairy had hoped it would alleviate some of the guilt she bore for their separation. She had hoped that this time Pinocchio could grow up without being tainted by his experiences in the Land Without Magic. "You had your innocence back."
"I know, and I'll always be grateful to you for restoring me to life. But—" To her disappointment, August actually clung to his corruption. "—all those years, they made me who I am today. So yeah, I'm grateful to Gold, too, for restoring my memories, my self."
"But he's the Dark One. He can't be trusted." Blue appealed to Geppetto, who had always been more susceptible to her influence. "You know what he did to your parents..."
The old man grimaced. He tugged at August's arm and said softly, "She's right, son. Just give her a little more time. We'll find Jiminy without dark magic."
August reluctantly allowed himself to be persuaded, at least for now, finally leaving Blue in peace. She breathed a sigh of relief, but her peace was short-lived.
A few moments later, Snow White and David were at at her door.
"It's Henry," Snow White explained. "Doctor Whale says there's nothing he can do about magical ailments, so we were hoping you could help..."
Blue and her fairies had taken up residence in the palace, as the only experienced light magic practitioners available to the Charmings. Their daughter, though gifted as a Savior, lacked proper training. Doctor Whale had set up a makeshift hospital nearby, in what had now become the medical wing, grumbling all the while about the lack of modern technology. He was stuck in the Enchanted Forest for now, as no one had seen Jefferson or any other portal jumper since the Dark Curse had been lifted.
"He looks so drained all the time," said David. "It's not right for a boy his age."
"And he's always writing in that book of his, in that language none of us can read," Snow said in a rush. "I know he's the Author, but if it's affecting him like this, isn't there anything we can do?"
"He's the Truest Believer. I'm afraid that can be a burden, but it'll work out in the end." The Blue Fairy gave them her best reassuring smile. "The gods have gifted him with divine runes. He's using them to stop the darkness from rewriting the happy endings you deserve."
"The darkness? We can't let it destroy our grandson!" Snow's expression grew determined. "How do we help him?"
"You're already helping him, by being the leaders this realm needs. In order to take it back from the fey—"
"Wait." David frowned. "He's just a boy. Not a warrior."
"Oh no, I don't mean he needs to fight, not physically. No, he needs to write the final chapter, the one where light wins over the dark. Where his mother marries her true love, and his family is united at the end."
Snow nodded decisively. "Then we'll make sure that happens, won't we, David?"
The Blue Fairy smiled. It didn't take much encouragement to restore Snow White's optimism, and where she went, her husband followed. The royal couple was all that she could hope for, paragons of human virtue that would set the realm to rights at last. It was an honor to be chosen to guide them, and guide them she would.
Nevertheless, the strain of keeping them aligned with the gods' plans — even the best humans were such flighty creatures, prone to straying on the slightest whim — wore on the Blue Fairy, and she sent the Charmings on their way after assuring them that Henry's sacrifice was for the greater good.
All their sacrifices were for the greater good. Even if she imagined she heard a gentle voice emanating from her cabinet.
You know this is wrong, it reproached her.
"I only do what I must," she said aloud, though she knew the wards were secure around her cabinet. No voice could possibly be heard from it, especially not one so soft as—
The Blue Fairy opened her cabinet again, revealing a cricket locked in a golden cage. "Jiminy."
"Please, there's no need for this." And then, in the exact tones she had imagined, "You know this is wrong."
"You get above yourself," snapped Blue. "You're not my conscience."
"I'm your prisoner." Tiny jeweled eyes peered out at her. "Why do you feel that I'm a threat to you?"
"You threaten our future. I can't allow you to betray us to the fey, not when we finally have a chance to secure the realm from them. No more ogre wars, no more children lost to the mists."
"But what about their future? The fey have a right—"
"They have none. They are an abomination. A flawed creation from before the true gods ascended, from before true humans arose." The only redemption for such monsters was transformation into innocent beasts. Mute beasts. The one exception only proved that her initial assessment had been correct. "They have no future. They belong to the past."
The cricket seemed to wince, its antennae twitching nervously. "I think there's a little more to that..."
"I used to think so, but look at you. Even after all this time, after everything I've done for you, you run to the fey." It had caught her by surprise, and only a chance sighting by one of her fairies had alerted Blue to the danger. She was just glad she had found him before he had found the fey. But the betrayal still rankled. "Blood will out. I should have known better than to trust in—"
"That isn't why...why I went. I don't wish harm to Geppetto or August, or anyone else. I only want peace. Isn't that what you want, too?"
"They don't know what you are. And they shouldn't have to find out." Blue reached into the cabinet and lifted out the cage. "Perhaps I should move you. The puppet may not bother to knock the next time..."
"It's only natural that August would be worried. Have you considered trusting him with the truth?"
"Why didn't you?"
"I didn't feel it was relevant."
"And it's not relevant now. But I have more pressing concerns." She carried the cricket's cage with her as she passed through a hidden passage, leading to an even more tightly warded chamber underneath the palace, one that had been erased from the memories of everyone except Blue and her followers — and its sole inhabitant (prisoner, she admitted to herself.)
The Blue Fairy strode in and set the cage on top of the desk where the prisoner sat, scrawling away, studiously ignoring her. She cleared her throat in irritation. "Isaac Heller."
Isaac Heller, erstwhile Author, glanced up with a scowl. "Can't you see I'm busy?" Then his eyes narrowed at the cricket in the cage. "What's this? Do I look like I need a pet, lady?"
"You know who this is. You two can keep each other company. At least I know you can't possibly corrupt each other any further."
Isaac snorted. "Why don't you send me back to the Land Without Magic? Everyone you care about is over here, now, right?"
"I'm afraid I can't do that," Blue answered primly. "But perhaps I can appeal to the Great Mother on your behalf when this is all over..."
As Jiminy introduced himself to Isaac, Blue turned and walked away. She couldn't permit herself to doubt her own actions. She served the higher powers. Whatever she did in that service was justified.
She just had to see it through to the end — the final battle.
Author's note: GoldenHook! Just kidding. Maybe it's Stockholm syndrome... though I did think the show missed an opportunity for wacky duo Weaver and Rogers in s7. Such a waste of a final season to just remake s1 (badly). Ah well. OUAT still has its good moments, but I'm glad it's over, given the horrors of s4-6.
On religion in the Enchanted Forest: yeah, I'm making up random bullshit, no offense intended to any real life faiths. All I know from canon is that 1) Greek gods apparently exist and are known, as well as Sea Goddess!Ursula (that Poseidon's daughter Ursula was named after) 2) "clerics" exist, and it was plausible to both Rumple and Regina that they had no tolerance for the Dark One, and could treat people harshly (e.g. scourging is a thing with them) 3) the fairies were nuns in Storybrooke 4) Friar Tuck exists and is native to the EF culture 5) the Holy Grail exists 6) no Biblical figures, Jesus, Muhammad, the Buddha, etc. have been mentioned in fairy tale land as far as I know 7) there's a belief in "demons" and "angels" but the details are unclear. (Regina got called an "angel of death" once.)