If it weren't for Baelfire, he'd have called Dove to do this for him. Getting information, digging around and snooping…those things weren't really his job. And in this world, with his ankle injury, it wasn't something he was often physically prepared, or sometimes, even able, to do. If this were any other job not related to potentially finding a link to his son, he'd have sent Dove in a heartbeat. But since it was Baelfire, he'd opted not to summon his bird and simply do it himself.

Of course…the fact that he'd sent Dove on a nice little vacation didn't help.

After checking Granny's records in the office, carelessly left out for anyone to find really, and learning which room Booth was staying in, he'd taken to the stairs. That was the first time that he started to think he would have rather liked to have Dove with him in this case. He wouldn't have trusted the bird to come alone lest he find something too damning, but having a second pair of eyes might have been incredibly helpful given the fact that he was giving himself such a short amount of time to get this done. On the stairs, he'd set the alarm on his cell phone for seven minutes. That gave him time to get up the stairs, pick the lock, look around for five minutes, and leave. It wasn't a lot, but anything more than that would be risky. Booth could leave Mary Margaret's party and return here, he could come back with Emma, he could catch him and call Emma, Granny or even Ruby could come back to change for work, and he had no doubt they wouldn't keep silent. No, more than five minutes was just too risky.

He wore gloves, just on the off chance that he couldn't get the door locked again or he made a mess of something and Emma was called after. He wished he had one of Regina's skeleton keys, but the best part of being Mr. Gold meant that he didn't need it. Would it have been helpful? Sure. But necessary? Not at all. He picked the lock with some tools from the shop. Dove was good with locks, but he'd wager that he could do better. Being a pawnbroker meant dealing with locks of all types. He had hazy false memories over the years of people bringing him objects of value that had locks but keys that had "long ago" gone missing. Picking a lock was second nature; it was just another day at the office for him. Now, if he had two healthy legs, then he could dismiss Dove for good. But as it was right now…

Suddenly he felt the tumblers fall into place and heard the snick of the lock opening. He swung the door open, limped inside, and closed the door to give himself a few minutes of privacy. A few minutes…he had to make those minutes count.

There were a few lights that have been left on, which helped. His first priority was doing this quickly, but his second was to keep things tidy so that no one knew he'd been here. The lights on meant he didn't have to turn any on or remember to turn them off. He noted that the room looked well lived in, but wasn't terribly shocked at that considering how long Booth had been in Storybrooke by now. Bed, nightstands, desk, all common items one might find in a B&B room. But the desk would probably yield the most information. It was the most cluttered.

There was a hat of some kind, sitting next to a typewriter. It was old, older than Storybrooke. It didn't belong here in the B&B, and Emma had mentioned something about a typewriter when he'd spoken to her a bit ago. It was probably August's. It was an antique but…nothing more. Probably worth about one hundred dollars in a shop like his. There was no meaning to it except perhaps sentimental. If it was sentimental, he wasn't going to discover its sentiment without August. So he kept looking. He checked the paper in the typewriter, but it was blank. No words. No letters. However, there was more paper stacked next to it, under a wooden paperweight—a donkey of all things. Beautiful craftsmanship, it appeared to be handmade, but…also meaningless in addition to being worthless. He doubted the donkey was standard at Granny's either. But it, like the typewriter, was an odd thing to travel with. More sentiment?

He moved the donkey aside and looked to the small stack of paper it guarded. The top page held a simple typewritten paragraph, probably a continuation of whatever was on the page-

His heart stopped for a moment before thudding painfully back to life. He felt cold. As if all the blood had drained from his body.

He'd turned that page, expecting to find another page of text. Instead, he'd discovered a drawing, a sketch of something deadly, something he couldn't have prepared himself for.

It was a drawing of his dagger.

His name was spelled correctly.

"L" before "E". And every other detail aside from that was perfect as well. The way it waved, the etchings on it, the handle's design, the point of it, everything right down to his fucking name was perfect!

It was disturbing. Of all the things he'd expected to find, that certainly hadn't been in. It changed everything. Everything! He couldn't just leave August Booth to his own plans, not when he had a drawing like that. And he sure as hell couldn't call in one of the birds to watch him. No. He had to get to the bottom of this. And he had to do it himself. He had to do it quickly. He knew Baelfire and knew about the dagger…this didn't end when his cell phone alarm went off. It couldn't.

For once, he closed the shop the next day without warning or reason and spent the day trailing after August Wayne Booth. It wasn't terribly difficult. Where his motorcycle as he was usually never far. He'd gone to see Emma early that morning, but it had been a short visit. He still had two workers watching Emma and Regina, the two last remaining players in the Mary Margaret Scandal. He knew what they were doing. Emma was trying to figure out a way to take down Regina; Regina was trying to figure out how to cover her ass. They'd be too busy for Booth.

That was probably why he'd had lunch alone at Granny's that day. Hungry as he was, he didn't allow himself to go inside or eat anything. If he did that, he might get held up and miss August on the way out. He was a man on a mission—a mission to get information. Having a picture of that dagger was a threat to his existence. A threat to his existence was a threat to seeing his son.

He didn't take threats well.

Finally, August emerged from the diner, mounted his motorcycle, and sped off. He followed at a distance as he sped through the streets of Storybrooke, up into the woods, and arrived at, of all places, the convent. He parked his car in a spot that he knew would give him a good visual once Booth parked his bike and then watched as he strode up the stairs. He waited outside, pacing until Mother Superior appeared, they exchanged a few words, and then the pair of them went inside. It was curious. Very curious. What would Booth want with an Old Bug like her?

Fortunately, after an hour of sitting in his car, waiting for him to come out, he knew how to find out. Mother Superior…finally he'd talked to someone that he could have sway over! Fairy or nun, in this land, she was nothing but a tenant, and that meant he could ask her about him, threaten her if need be. In fact…this was great. Either Mother Superior would tell him what Booth wanted, or he'd find some legal reason to kick them out of the convent. One way or another, he'd be leaving here with a problem solved. The only question was which one.

One hour later, August emerged from the convent with the Bug. They chatted amiably on the porch for a few moments before walking down some steps and finally parting. That was his chance. And yes, the moment he got out of his car and made his way to the nun while August sat back on his bike, he was aware that he risked losing the man. But if he could learn anything substantial, then it might be worth the risk. For Baelfire…anything was worth the risk.

"Mother Superior. Good afternoon," he muttered without bothering to hide his disdain for her. She knew he didn't like them. No need to hide it. After all, the way she glanced up at him and then sighed didn't hide her own disdain.

"Our rent is paid in full," he explained simply. Yes, he knew that. Rent had been due the day Kathryn was freed…he'd had Dove collect it like usual so they could talk over the Kathryn situation. Then, once he'd given him his cut, he'd disappeared up to one of the cabins he owned by the lake for his well-deserved vacation while he'd done the books. He'd been irritated to see the convent had paid in full but not surprised after the events that had taken place over Miner's Day.

"I'm not here about the rent."

Mother Superior smiled one of her falsely sweet but innocent smiles. "Well, good day to you, then," she sassed before attempting to walk away from him. Honestly, the Curse had a sense of humor. This woman…a nun…innocent?! That was utterly ridiculous when talking about any fairy, least of all their leader.

"Tell me, that man who just left here…who did he say he was? What did he want?" he called before she could get too far.

She turned, her smile still in place as she whispered, "I don't have to tell you that."

The thing was, ever since he'd decided to ask her, he'd been expecting an answer like that. And he was more than happy to give her the answer that he'd prepared.

"And I don't have to not double your rent," he snapped, wiping the smile off of her face and putting it on his own instead. Their rental agreement was indeed specific. And Mr. Gold had longed for years to tear it up, which meant he practically had the damn thing memorized. He couldn't kick them out unless they failed to make rent. There was nothing in it that mentioned the rent had to stay the same year to year or even month to month. And by the look on her face, the Blue Bug knew it too.

"What did he want?" he pushed.

"Advice and counsel," she answered. "He came to town looking for his father after a long separation and he recently found him."

"Ah," he managed to let out a choked noise but only because his heart had suddenly leaped up into his throat as his body went cold and then numb all over again. It was identical to the feeling he'd had last night when he'd seen the drawing of the dagger only...different. This was different.

A son who had found his father after a long separation. A man who knew Baelfire.

It wasn't possible…

"And a happy reunion has already taken place?" he asked, trying not to put too much emotion into it. That was a difficult task. He was nothing but emotion right now. Emotion after emotion…fear, hope, love, joy, pain, sorrow, panic…lots of panic.

Why panic? All the others he understood but panic…

"No. He hasn't spoken to him yet."

No. It couldn't be Baelfire. If it was, they'd spoken just the other morning. Not that he would call that a happy reunion, exactly. But nuances…

He swallowed. "And why not?"

"Mm, it was a difficult parting. There are many issues to be resolved between them."

"I see…" he whispered, looking out across the property without actually seeing it. He felt a shiver creep up his spine and just barely managed to mutter "Good day, Mother Superior" before turning and leaving.

When he fell back into his car, he felt like he couldn't breathe.

August Wayne Booth…here to reunite with a father he'd parted badly from…it couldn't be…

Could he?

This chapter is a combination of three scenes that were really so short I couldn't make any of them work individually. Fortunately, they all fell under the same category of "recon," and I combined them. I'm fairly happy with the outcome. It means not taking time where we don't need it, and I feel like it also gives this entire encounter the feeling of being rushed, which we all know is not a Rumple thing. He takes his time with things, which allows him to analyze and come to correct conclusions. Here, the rushing about actually allows us to feel like it contributes to the big terrible thing coming at the end of this episode.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, Grace5231973 and Alarda, for your wonderful reviews! As always, I am eternally glad that you are enjoying this and thrilled to hear your thoughts! Up next, we're going from one bug to another. Did anyone miss Archie? He's coming at you next! Peace and Happy Reading!