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People in a coma can hear you.

They are not being silly and too hopeful, all these tearful relatives who come to coma patients in hospitals every day to read to them, to play them music, to hold their hands and whisper caring, silly hopeful words. People in a coma can hear them, and these words, this music and those caressing hands serve as a lifeline that connects them to reality - a tiny tread of life that might eventually lead them back to the light out of the labyrinth of darkness where their weak bodies keep their souls.

People in a coma can hear you, and feel you. Especially if it is a magical coma, more protection than curse. And especially if a girl that holds your hand and kisses your brow is the only love of your life. That tiny tread you feel is almost physical then - it is the bond of love that always connected you two.

He felt her when she sat by his side, kissing his hand, putting her fingers on his brow, running them through his hair. He heard her soft "I love you. Please come back to me", repeated over and over again. And no matter how deadly tired he was, how empty and spent, how ready to let go of everything and find final peace, he couldn't. She loved him. She wanted him back with her. He couldn't let her down.

How cruel she was, and how powerful. His beautiful girl. His love, lost and found and lost again... And found again.

He remained there on his camp-bed, motionless, unable to move - unable to even cry. And he kept listening to her, and remembering the look in her eyes when, as he was dying, she pressed her brow to his and just gazed at him, solemnly, speechless, urging him to stay, promising him hope. He had so many of her looks and smiles stored in the vaults of his memory. Her innocent coquetry as she embraced him in the woods when he spared the thief's life. Her indulgent smile as she stood on the ladder in his castle, just before falling into his arms. Her dreamy eyes as she tried to kiss him for the first time. The shining happiness with which she greeted him when he returned from Neverland. The tearful happiness of seeing him alive again as he emerged from the vault when she and Bae resurrected him. So many looks and smiles - shining, dazzling, misted with passion, warmed with affection, alight with hope. Yet his favorite look of hers always used to be the one she gave him when they first met and she promised to be with him forever - that solemn, deep and open look that made her promise true more than any words would. If only he could believe her... Well, he believed her now for, after everything he's done, she stood by him, she held him close and she gave him that new look - this new promise. That look, that sad and open and tender gaze, would be the favorite of his from now on.

If only he could move, or cry, or press her hand. If only he could let her know that he hears her - that he is with her and knows of her love, and of her sufferings. For she did suffer, of course - he understood how unbearable it is to sit by his side day by day, helpless, useless, feeling guilty and hopeless. So when she left his bedside and went with other heroes on their hopeless quest of saving the Savior, he did not blame her. Did he not leave her bedside when she lost her memory - didn't he go to New York? He went to New York to find his son. She went to Camelot to find herself. She had to. She had to have a life of her own - she couldn't spend all her time chained to him. He was glad she understood that.

The Fairy gave her a rose - a magical rose that would inform her if and when he died. A rather useless thing for someone who was going to another realm: so what if she learned of his demise when being in another world? And she gave it to her with a rather meaningless phrase about Beast's life being linked to the rose.

A Beast, indeed. He was no longer a beast.

If only he could smile at the irony.

He was a man now. An ordinary man - the one she always wanted him to be.

He wondered how she'd like that. How she would react to this new old him - to the ordinary man he was once and whom she never knew.

He wondered if that was even true, that thought of "being an ordinary man once". Was he an ordinary man, ever? His life was plagued by magic since he was a little boy. His father was an evil wizard. He was raised by spinsters who, he was almost sure, were witches. He had a gift of spinning which was extraordinary - almost magical. He got his power through the curse of the dagger, but he wondered - perhaps he did have some magic in him all along. Perhaps all people in the Enchanted Forest have that sleeping gift in them - that power that might wake up in them any moment.

And, even leaving magic alone - wasn't he rather unusual, always? Cunning. Clever. Desperate. Loving. Able to sacrifice himself and to fight for his loved ones. No, he was never an ordinary man - now, after centuries of discovering his true self with the aid of his magic, he knew that. He lost a lot to his power, but it sure gave him one thing in return: self-respect. Self-esteem.

It would be fun to wake up, and start living again, and rediscover himself.

If only he could wake up.

But he couldn't, and he remained on his bed, and fairies kept him company now that She was gone, and instead of her tender whispers he had to listen to these flying pests discussing their grime situation. Emma had become the Dark One and had to be brought back to light. Merlin was their only hope of doing that. How did the mission go? How it would end? It went on and on. He wished he could snort ironically. He wished he could speak - he could tell them a lot about those things. He would have told them not to expect too much from Merlin: powerful and legendary as he was, he was a weak man, naive and susceptible to lies, easily tricked - he knew all about him from the Dark One that was his lover and whose soul he saw when he possessed the power. If only he had known that Merlin was the mysterious Sorcerer that forged the magical hat, so much trouble could have been avoided. He started his affair with the hat, that quest of using it to free himself from the dagger that eventually ruined his life with Belle, only because he was afraid that the Sorcerer was more powerful than he and therefor could bend him to his will. But Merlin never could out-master him. He just didn't have it in him. And he would never fight Merlin - he had no need to. Merlin was the Light One, he was necessary. Darkness and light have to coexist for the world to be in balance.

He was worried by the things fairies discussed. Emma was not a suitable person to become the Dark One; this girl could hardly hold her light magic, she wouldn't know what to do with darkness - how to control it. She was too rash, to blatant for dealing with darkness; there were no shades and shadows in her life, she lived in a black and white world, knew only good and bad, and one has to understand all the shades of grey to be the Dark One. Silly, silly heroic girl, she needed a teacher. She needed someone to guide her. To save her from mistakes. He would have done that... But he couldn't.

He had to remain still on his bed, knowing everything, unable to do anything.

And then, after those endless weeks and yet suddenly, as such things happen, heroes came back from their mission. Apparently they failed. Emma was darker than ever. They lost their memory to a curse - again. They were lost and confused.

But She was back to his bedside, gentle and sweet as ever. Worried about him. Kissing his hand. Caressing his hair.

Oh he wished that his coma were a curse that could be broken by a kiss of true love. She gave him so many kisses one of them definitely would have worked.

He believed it now.

He wished he could respond. He wished he could wake up to see her eyes, bright and loving and filled with grateful tears.

But fate, which never tired of playing with him, was not to stop even now, when he was not a wizard anymore. Really, it expressed too much interest in an "ordinary man" that he once was and now became again. No "ordinary man" could become a victim of so many misadventures. He was chosen - at least by fate and at least for this constant beating.

His evil fate wouldn't rest, wouldn't leave him alone. Dark Swan kidnapped him and woke him up with dark magic, and instead of his own bed and his loving wife he faced a gloomy cell and a slightly deranged blond girl raving about great deeds.

This situation - being held in a cell by a madwoman and tortured into crazy deals - had become a bit repetitive.

Emma revealed her plan to him. He was to become a hero. Not just a hero - The Hero, the one capable of pull Excalibur from the stone. A feat that only the man with the purest, bravest heart could perform for anyone unworthy would perish trying. She figured she could turn his "clean slate" of a soul into a person light enough to be the chosen one. She needed the sword for some reason - presumably evil reason. Perhaps she wanted to turn this sword against the light; that was a silly ambition Darks Ones before him always cherished, and she might have listened to their souls now trapped in hers. He never saw the point of that idea: why destroy the light? It would destroy the darkness too. As said before, both were necessary to balance the world. But Emma just might have been naive enough to accept such a plan. As a Savior, she wanted to destroy the darkness. As the Dark One, she might have switched goals.

Now, there was something fishy about that, and something very wrong with this plan. He knew his strong qualities - he had brains, he was cunning, he was desperate in a fight for love, he could love with true love. But heroic purity of heart could never, ever be his - he was just too clever for such blind bravery. But Emma believed she could force him into heroics and, being as blatant and straightforward as a dark witch as she was when light, she wouldn't take no for an answer, and wouldn't listen to reason.

He had to stop her - had to oppose her. It would have been a bad thing if he did become a hero and helped her to gain the sword. It would have been a bad thing if he did not become a hero and died after just touching the noble blade. Both outcomes that he could expect were extremely unpleasant, so he had to use his brains to avoid them. So he acted as cowardly and weakly as he could: crying, sniveling, begging to be let go, limping around and falling down, refusing to fight with the redheaded Scottish princess that Emma forced to "train" him. All that time watching for the right moment to escape. Waiting for his chance; using every opportunity.

His heart broke, as he had to break Belle's chipped cup. It was broken before, by her in her madness, but he was a wizard then and could make it whole again. He wouldn't be able to, now. But perhaps he wouldn't need to. Perhaps now, when he was free of darkness, Belle wouldn't cling to symbols of their past and her incessant fight for his soul and just accept him as he is.

So he broke it, and cut his ropes, and made his way to her library, and faced her - finally, after all those weeks, after all his stillness and silence, he could touch her, and speak to her, and be with her again.

It was such a strange, such an awkward reunion.

She was so beautiful - more beautiful than ever. Her eyes so bright, her voice so soft. He felt her warmth, her concern, her deepest affection. Her heart went out to him, she was ready to support him, to help him, to endlessly encourage him. He felt all that.

The only thing he did not feel was her love.

She did not love him now, this girl he loved so much. And it was not because of their various separations and past hurts. It was not because she changed and loved another.

It was because of him. He changed. He became a man whom she never met, and didn't know.

And she didn't love him.

It took him a long time to fully grasp it - it was just so unbelievable. She didn't kiss him when they met - she just held his hand, but he could expect that - too much happened between them before he fell into his coma, there was too much suffering and pain, they needed to talk before they could kiss. And then they were distracted - the Scottish princess attacked again, and he was forced to fight, and he realized, with dismay that his escape actually contributed to his becoming a hero. If only Belle listened to him and they left town - Emma's plans would have been ruined then, and all would have been well... They could have started a new life in a world free of magic - free of their difficult past; they could have built their lives anew. But Belle was... Belle. She wanted him to fight. She wanted him to become a hero... Why would she want a hero now if she used to want an ordinary man before? And couldn't she realize that him becoming a hero would actually promote the plans of the Dark One? Oh no, all her cleverness temporarily left her, and she insisted that he must fight and thus succumb to Emma's plan.

She left him in the middle of the forest when she realized that all he wanted was escape. Left him so easily and just walked away from him into the darkness of the trees.

And still he couldn't really grasp how much things changed.

Of course he followed her. Of course he had to fight - he had to fight a giant bear, for goodness sake! Unthinking, hopeless, blindly brave. All for her. He had to win - by pure chance. And he had to feel his heart changing ever so slightly by this act of stupid bravery; making him a hero. Making him a tool in Emma's hands.

Belle looked at him with concern and admiration as he pulled the sword from the stone. She said all the right things, as did he. And he stood there, holding the sword miraculously accessible to him, and thought: "Something is very wrong here".

He performed one heroic act; not nearly as heroic as giving his life for others, as he did once when he killed himself along with his father, and that didn't make him a hero then. One stupid and brave thing couldn't make him a hero now. Certainly not a hero worthy of pulling Merlin's precious sword from the enchanted stone.

The sword felt definitely odd in his hand. A powerful magical object, obviously. But the epitome of light magic - the all-powerful blade able to destroy darkness once and for all?.. He had his doubts about that.

Something was wrong here. With the stone, with the sword, or with himself.

And something was wrong with Belle.

She did not kiss him when they met in the library. She did not kiss him in the woods after he defeated the bear. She embraced him, yes, but as he pressed his face to her hair and inhaled her scent, and felt the gentleness of her body next to his, finally, she went slightly stiff, and her lips never touched his.

She did not kiss him when they went back home after that sword-pulling stunt. They did not make love. She walked awkwardly to the kitchen, muttering that he must be tired, that she would make them a cup of tea.

He watched her slender back, and his heart sunk.

She opened the fridge, saying that she'd make sandwiches, and stood there motionless, absorbed in thought. He said he'd see about the tea, and limped towards the cupboard, and she told him to sit down in a slightly harsh voice, and there was something in her eyes that he never saw there before. Pity. She pitied him - for his age, for his weakness, for his lame leg.

They sat at the kitchen table, talking and drinking that damned tea. That was a good thing - they needed to talk. They needed to talk for a long time now, they had to clear the air so that they could rebuild their love. Only it felt that there was nothing to rebuild now, and if he looked deep into his heart right then he would have known it.

But he did not - not yet. He was just too happy to see her. To be in the same room with her.

God, he missed her so much. All that time in New York when she banished him from town for his evil deeds. All that time as he was trying to build the curse of the new book when he had to stay away from her and watch her kiss another man. All that time in a coma, when she was away. He hasn't seen her for so long... He almost forgot what it felt like to be near her again.

Perhaps she was right and they needed to take things slowly. Had to get accustomed to each other again. Strange - they didn't need that after 28 years of the first curse - they reconnected at once then. And after a year he spent in Zelena's power - they made love the second they were reunited then.

But not now.

Things changed now.

He changed.

He was not the man she fell in love with. As simple as that.

Late into the night, unable to bear this forced conversation any longer, desperately looking for an excuse that would set her free of his company at least for an hour, he said he must get down to his shop - he had to check what was ruined or missing.

She said she was very tired.

"Go to bed", he said. "I will see you in the morning".

She him gave a weak smile, probably appreciating his kindness, his naive trick that would give her time to think.

He spent that night sitting on his camp-bed, alone, thinking and at the same time blank minded - stunned, silent, unbelieving. Lost – aimless. Abandoned. Filled with hope that every second she'd walk in and fall into his arms. Knowing full well that she wouldn't. Refusing to admit it. At least not yet.

And in the morning when she joined him in the shop she smiled brightly and they didn't talk of last night. They were busy anyway - they finally learned Emma's secret: the fact that she turned her lover, the pirate, into a Dark One too. And he was the man who cast the curse; and he was the man who put the sword back into the stone, for that sword now was his dagger - the thing that could control and kill him.

And that explained everything. He would never have been able to pull Merlin's Excalibur from the stone - he was not a hero enough for that. But to pull out of the stone a sword put there by angry, disturbed and inexperienced Dark One?.. Oh, he was hero enough for that.

Pirate challenged him to a duel - a duel that was a repetition of the fight they never had on the pirate's ship, when the brave captain was stealing his wife. That day, that humiliation turned him into a Dark One, eventually, yet the pirate who sneered at the cripple and trod him to the ground seemed to think that he was still somehow to blame for the events of that day.

Of course he accepted the challenge - that was what a hero should do, right? He felt no fear. Even with all his dark power the pirate was still a fool - nothing more than a rash boy. A fine couple they made, these two Dark Ones - silly, inept, naive... No special power was needed to best them. Plain brains would do just fine.

Yet everybody was so very concerned about him and his imminent peril. Everyone offered to protect him. Suddenly he became a part of the family, and everyone fussed about his wellbeing. Yet despite the fact that he was now "a hero", not one of them believed in him. Not one of them thought that he stood a chance of winning. They respected and pitied him for his readiness to die.

And She didn't believe in him too. There was such surprise in her eyes when he told her that he'd fight without magical tricks and without anyone's help. Oh it was irony, such irony: she wanted him to become a hero, and he obliged her, but still she only saw him as a weak and cowardly cripple. She actually looked astonished when he said something noble - when he voiced, very carefully and gently, his newfound belief that she fell out of love with him, a belief that grew stronger every second.

"Not wanting me to die is not the same as wanting to be with me", he said.

She looked concerned, and confused, as if it was an unexpected thought.

Yet she did not object.

So he went to face the pirate, feeling silly and strange in his heroic role, acting it up, biding his time, waiting for the moment to do something, anything that would turn the fight in his favor. He sensed that the pirate did not want to kill him - not really, otherwise he would have been dead the instant he stepped on board of the ship. No, the pirate needed him to be alive - to suffer and to fight with again. The pirate was obsessed with him, killing his prey would have been no fun for the deranged seaman - he could understand that. He hated the pirate too - hated him for his ruined life and for taking his son's woman and for being such a blasted fool and for abusing the great power that needed to be treated very carefully.

Perhaps the pirate wanted him to win - he always liked to be beaten by him. Or perhaps luck really played into his hands. Eventually he seized the sword that could kill the Dark One... And he didn't kill him.

He hated him too much to kill him and end his sufferings, that was one reason. And there was another, even more important one.

If he would have killed the Dark Pirate with this sword, he would become the Dark One - again. What was the point of getting rid of his darkness, of becoming a man she asked for, of gaining acceptance and a measure of love from his family if he'd ruin it all in one stroke? Why ruin everything and become a villain in everyone's eyes again? He did that before. He became the Dark One before, for all the good and noble reasons, and nobody remembered his good cause or appreciated it.

To repeat this act would have been stupid, and pointless.

He did not want his power. He did not miss it. Ah, that was not true, of course - not entirely. He did miss it, it was such a big part of his soul for so long. He did miss his magic, but not as much as he missed his wife's love.

If he had that, nothing else would have mattered.

As he stood by the magical well where they were married and where she, guided by Regina, broke his heart so recently, there was hope - insane and wonderful hope in his heart that she would now finally see what she wants in him. He defeated a dangerous enemy. Bested Dark One in a fight. That was much better than desperately throwing magical dust into a bear's mouth. If she wanted a hero, surely he was a hero now.

But she did not want a hero.

She did not know what she wanted. But she definitely didn't want him.

She was cruel enough to come to the meeting and give him hope. He told her that her coming would show her intention to be with him. She came and told him she didn't want him. Why did she came?.. It would have been much simpler and kinder to just stay away. She was cruel enough to justify her decision by referring to his past mistakes. "You broke my heart too many times", she said. She said she needed to protect her own heart now. She accused him of cruelty while being unbearably cruel herself, spoke of past hurt while breaking his heart to pieces; turned all his striving to goodness completely meaningless in one instant...

The brutal injustice of her words brought tears to his eyes.

She saw these tears as a sign of weakness.

She turned on her heels, and walked away from him.

He stood silent, calling her back just once, knowing she wouldn't come.

It was pointless to argue. He had nothing to say. Fate played its cruelest joke on him - again. After all these efforts to change him, after all that nagging that spoilt even the best times they had together, she finally had what she wanted... And she didn't like it.

Be careful what you wish for, for it might come true.

Every time he lost her before, it was his fault. He was unworthy of her; he was a villain; villains don't get happy endings... Now there was no fault of his in what was happening. And that was no consolation at all.

He became a man she wished him to be, and he lost her. He lost everything. The only meaning his life had after his son died just walked away from him - a receding figure in a pink coat, disappearing between the trees.

Did he feel lost? Oh yes. Did he feel angry? Strangely, no. Her happiness was what he always wanted. She saw her happiness away from him... He could accept that. He couldn't blame her.

That's what good, kind people do: they forgive; and he was a good, kind man. That's what people who love truly do: they let their loved ones go; and he loved her truly.

He remembered suddenly how he let her go for the first time, all these years ago; how he sent her away to the village to get straw, expecting to never see her again, and how he watched the empty forest road from the window, mourning his loss, his heart bleeding. He remembered how, as his gloom at her loss deepened, the weather changed - the day that was sunny and bright turned dark and stormy. He was the Dark One then, and the world around reflected his moods.

He was an ordinary man now, and his heart bled. And the sun shined relentlessly above his head, and the day remained blindingly bright.